Merry Market Murder(81)

Nothing I saw was in itself scary, but I was scared nonetheless. I felt like I needed to leave that barn. Quick.

But Denny finally heard me when I took a step backward, my heel hitting something wheel-like and creaky.

Denny’s head shot up. He saw me and his face fell at first, but he tried to cover his surprise, and maybe disappointment, with a quick smile. “Becca, hello,” he said, but he didn’t put down the ornament. “I didn’t know you were here yet.”

“I just got here. Sorry to interrupt. I saw Ned and he told me to wait in the other barn but I saw you come in here . . .” I was talking too much.

“Oh, well, it’s okay.”

But it wasn’t—I could hear that much in his voice.

Denny finally put the ornament on the table. As he walked around toward me, I took another step backward, but this time I fell. As I went down, I reflexively put my hand out and it hit something sharp.

“Ow!” I said, but I still tried to get up.

Denny was by my side, pulling me up by my arm an instant later.

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” I protested.

“No, you’re not. You’re bleeding. Profusely.”

I looked at my hand. He was right. I didn’t look down to see what had cut my palm because I was so surprised by all the blood dripping down my fingers.

“Come here, there’s a sink and some towels over here,” Denny said as he pulled me toward the workshop and farther from the front doors.

“I’m okay,” I said again, but we both knew I wasn’t.

Denny had my hand under running water only a few moments later.

“I’ve got to clean it. It’ll sting,” he said, and he didn’t hesitate to squeeze a pile of liquid soap onto it.

It stung meanly; the pain would have made my knees buckle if I weren’t so hyped with adrenaline. I had the presence of mind to notice that the goose bite was on my other arm, so now I was injured on both sides. I needed to get out of that barn.

“Here, we need to keep pressure on the towel. You don’t need stitches, but I’ll put some bandages on it.”

I held my good hand over the towel as Denny continued to direct me by holding on to my arm. He guided me to a stool next to the table and told me to sit. I did, but I was plotting how I was going to get around both him and the table when even the briefest opportunity presented itself.

He clasped my hand and the towel between both of his hands. He was putting pressure right over the cut, but I could tell the bleeding hadn’t slowed much. I still needed to get out of there. I eyed the ornament on the table. I’d been correct; it was in the shape of an adult female elf. It was made of a piece of wood and cleverly carved to show the elf’s curvy features and pretty face. It wasn’t Mamma Maria’s face, but it was still familiar.

“You’re a wood carver?” I asked, my voice cracking.

Denny’s hard, focused gaze moved from our hands to my eyes. “I guess.”

“You make a lot of Christmas ornaments?”

He kept hold of my injured hand as he pulled another stool a little closer. He sat and looked at me again.

“About that . . .” he began.

I swallowed hard.

A clunk sounded from the direction of the old tractor. I hoped more than I’d ever hoped for anything that it was Sam.

But it wasn’t.

“Denny!” Billie said as she came into view. “I’ve been calling . . . oh, hi, Becca. You okay?” She hurried toward the table.

It might not have been Sam, but I was still happy to see her. At least there’d be a witness when Denny bludgeoned me with the ax.

It didn’t take but another second, though, to realize that the trap I’d unintentionally walked into was now more deadly because Billie had joined us.

Like her brothers, Billie was dressed for the occasion. As at the parade, she was again dressed as an elf, her short, green dress tight around her thin but curvy frame. No matter how old she was, she still looked great. I looked at her pretty face and her short, brown hair—and I realized that she looked almost exactly like the carved ornament on the table. I would have bet a thousand jars of jalapeño-mint jelly that she used to have long, blonde hair.

Even though I’d pondered the idea of the killer changing her looks or her hair, now wasn’t the moment to be proud of my investigative or deductive skills. No matter what, I’d still walked into a trap. But there still might be a way out of it.

“I’m okay.” I laughed. “Denny’s taking good care of me. I should probably just get home and get cleaned up better. I’ll replace the towel.”

“Oh, don’t be silly,” Billie the elf said. “You can clean up here. I’ll take you into the house.”