Harlequin Holiday Collection - Four Classic Seasonal Novellas

pantry, had gotten out here.
    He was lying on the chaise lounge, a blanket tucked around him. A pair of sunglasses covered his eyes and he looked like a vacationer enjoying an afternoon nap—as long as one didn’t notice the stiffness of his form or the slightly blue tinge to his skin.
    “Whoops,” she whispered, grabbing the perky reporter, Candy, by the arm. “A guest is napping. He’s, uh, been ill and we shouldn’t disturb him.”
    “Really? I thought I just saw him snoozing in a room upstairs. He must move pretty quickly for someone who’s sick.”
    Oh Lord, that must have been when Holly had been posing for some pictures in the lobby. Candy had gone wandering—and her grandparents had obviously been doing some, uh, redecorating.
    “He looks so peaceful, maybe we could get one shot—”
    “No!” That came from Zach, who’d followed them onto the porch. He met her eyes, silently offering his support. “The man said he wished to maintain his privacy. He wouldn’t sign a release to be photographed.”
    Candy shrugged. “Too bad. But I do understand.” Offering Holly a huge smile, the reporter followed Holly back inside then added, “well, I think we’re finished. I have to tell you, The Hollyberry Inn is absolutely delightful.
    “Thank you so much,” Holly replied. “This means the world to us.”
    As she led the woman out, warming under even more compliments, Holly could only think of what would happen as soon as the news van pulled away. Zach had promised to help guard the body until after the interview.
    But now the interview was over. It was time to call the police. And face the music.

Chapter Fourteen
    “Look, Mark, I know you’re mad, but I swear to you, Holly and her family never had any intention of not reporting this. They were just…delaying a little while.”
    Detective Mark Santori, who Zach had befriended shortly after he’d begun covering the crime beat in Chicago, continued to scowl. He’d had that expression on his face since the minute he’d arrived a half-hour ago, having come down from Chicago after Zach’s call.
    Zach was just glad he’d come, not only because the local cops were inexperienced in dealing with murder, but also because he knew Mark to be a reasonable, laid-back kind of guy. As laid back as a Chicago detective could be, of course.
    “Is there any particular reason the body was moved after it—” he consulted his notes, “— fell out of the Christmas tree?”
    Zach and Holly exchanged a glance and he saw the question in her eyes. How much detail should they go into? Would a potential foreclosure on the inn and a single chance to save it with a story on a popular travel show make any difference to an angry cop?
    In this instance, knowing the angry cop was a decent man, Zach thought yes. So he told Mark the whole story, stressing the very real possibility that Holly’s elderly grandparents could lose the home that had been in her family for a century. And that the Cavanaughs had genuinely believed the guy in the tree had died in some kind of freak accident—they’d never imagined he’d been murdered.
    Sighing heavily, Mark ran a hand through his dark hair and then shook his head. “Okay. I guess it wouldn’t be too obvious to a civilian that Meaney had been suffocated.” Grinning wryly, he added, “Though I’d really like to know what kind of town this is if guys routinely do stupid stuff like diving through tree binders.”
    “Thank you,” Holly murmured. “I really am sorry for the trouble we caused.”
    Mark shook his head once. “Meaney and Kipling caused the trouble. You just got sucked into it. I’ll try to smooth things over with the department.” He smiled broadly. “The local guys are already laughing about it. I guess you’re well-liked.”
    Mark Santori was the kind of guy women typically melted over, but Zach happened to know he was very happily married and expecting his first child. Good thing. Because if he thought his friend was trying to hit on Holly, he might seriously have to belt him.
    True to his word, over the next couple of hours, Mark got the police’s attention off the game of body-mover and onto the crime itself. The tree lot owner had verified Fred Kipling’s preoccupation with Holly’s Christmas tree and there was a lot of circumstantial evidence. When they found Kipling—and the diamonds—they should have enough to nail him for all his crimes. And, hopefully, any potential evidence lost because of