A Festival of Murder Read Online Free PDF

lot of
dead bodies, have you?” Canberry’s smile was a flash of teeth, which for some
reason appeared to consist of all incisors.
    “When someone’s
frozen solid you can pretty much assume they aren’t going to sit up and start
talking.”
    “Why was Mr. Lee
outside at the lake finding bodies instead of inside at the party?”
    “He usually drives
down to the Gingerbear using a route that takes him past the lake.”
    “Is it common for
people to spend time at the lake during the winter? Or at night? Any activities
held out there?”
    “No. It ices over
but it’s not thick enough to skate on. Charles keeps the kids off it.”
    “When I was out
there I saw red lights in the trees.”
    Nicholas sighed. “You
probably saw Captain Sam’s trailer. He lives about fifty yards from the south
side of the lake.”
    “Captain Sam?”
Canberry perked up. “Is he military?”
    “No idea. To be
honest, he might have given himself the name on a whim.”
    “Is he here
tonight?”
    “I sincerely doubt
it.” The mere thought of it nearly made the eggnog curdle in Nicholas’s
stomach. “He’s even less social than I am.”
    “Not an attention
hound?”
    Like you are, hung unspoken in
the air. It gave Nicholas pause, turned his polite smile on its wobbly end. “No,”
he said, careful to keep his voice even. “He’s more like a hermit.”
    Canberry’s smile
was chilly. “Looks like he came to the wrong town if he wanted to avoid the
spotlight.”
    The detective
worried Nicholas. Occasionally, sharpness peeked out of him like a pair of
scissors swaddled in a blanket. Was he one of those officers who disliked
people who reported sightings? Considered them troublemakers? Or had the
prospect of a murder in a normally peaceful, idyllic place turned him into a
barracuda who considered everyone guilty until proven innocent?
    Canberry ran his
eyes around Charles’s study, pausing on each of the framed photos of alleged
UFOs. Nicholas could imagine what the man thought: what a bunch of nutcases.
They’re probably card-carrying members of a cult .
    With a frown, he
turned back to Nicholas. “Who do you suggest I question next, Mr. Trilby?”
    Caught aback,
Nicholas warily circled the question, checking it for the trap he was certain
lie in wait for him. “Er, Captain Sam seems like a good start.” He had no
problem throwing Hightop’s strangest resident—and his personal nemesis—to the
wolves. “He’s the only person I know of who wasn’t at the party when the body
was found.” It was a half truth. He wouldn’t be able to recognize all of
Hightop’s residents if he faced them in a lineup, and the tourists were one
annoying blur to him. But Captain Sam seemed a good fit for most crimes.
    Canberry reached
into his coat pocket and withdrew a wadded up ball of burgundy silk. Judging by
the way it flopped about as he unfolded it, it was already quite damp. Nicholas
suppressed a shudder. Who used a handkerchief these days? He watched the man
mop his nose with it before stuffing the sodden thing back into his pocket. One
monogrammed corner peeked out like the tongue of something exhausted.
    “That should be
enough for now, Mr. Trilby. Please make yourself available for further
questioning if we require it. In other words don’t go making any spontaneous
trips to the Caribbean.” Canberry’s smile held all the warmth of a snow cone.
    Nicholas
reluctantly took the card Canberry handed him, hoping it wasn’t swarming with
viruses.
    Tom Little was by
the Christmas tree when Nicholas and Canberry reentered the living room. The
officer nodded as Charles proudly pointed out various ornaments on the sagging
limbs of the blinged-out tree. The ornaments were all alien-themed.
    “Everything all
right?” Charles asked with a tremulous smile when Nicholas and Detective
Canberry joined them. Christmas lights blinked off the sweat on his brow.
Nicholas found it remarkable—not to mention alarming—how poorly his friends
were