“Well, you’ve come to the right place,” Stella says, gesturing at the rows of trees stretching out behind her. “The Fraser firsare your best bet for needle retention. They’ll stay fresh through the new year if you water them properly.”
We make small talk about tree varieties and proper care. Stella assures me that she’s been working the Christmas tree circuit longer than I’ve been alive, and before that, she worked on the telemetry unit of the hospital. Eventually, I steer the conversation toward more relevant matters.
“Quite a holiday season so far,” I say casually. “First, the Jubilee disaster, and now I heard there was some excitement at the Velvet Fox last night as well.”
“Oh, yes.” Stella straightens the ornament display next to her with her mittens for a moment. “It’s just been terrible. I don’t know about the Velvet Fox, but I just heard that Lorenzo Bianchi passed away last night, too! Right after his brother. Must have been the stress from losing Nicholas. It’s all just such a shock.”
“That family has some seriously cursed Christmas karma,” I mutter under my breath.
Stella’s eyes widen at my comment. “What do you mean by that?”
I shrug, going for nonchalant. “Just seems like an unlucky coincidence. Two brothers dropping dead within days of each other? That’s like getting coal in your stocking two years running.”
“Yes. Quite... coincidental.” Stella moves to a table full of bushy wreaths and begins to straighten them as well. “I’m just so sorry for the family.”
“Did you know them well?” I probe. “Nicholas and Lorenzo?”
“Not really,” she says reflexively. “I mean, everyone knows the Bianchis, of course. Old money almost always equals big influence in the community. Nicholas was a regular donor to the hospital.” She glances over my shoulder and offers a gracious wave to a family striding by. “Now I just volunteer here and run the caroling group.”
“That must be how you knew Nicholas from the Jubilee,” I say, pretending to examine a miniature tree. “You seemed upset with him that night.”
“Oh, that.” Stella waves dismissively. “It was just a disagreement about the upcoming fundraising auction. He wanted to lower the starting bids to attract more participants, but I felt it would devalue the items. Nothing serious. That’s usually my arena, so I was surprised to hear he was trying to steamroll his way into it.” She frowns out at the bustling tree lot.
Watson squirms in my arms, apparently losing interest in our conversation. I readjust my grip, using the moment to study Stella’s face.
“It’s a shame about their business troubles,” I comment, throwing out a fishing line to see what I might catch.
“Business troubles?” Stella repeats and she sounds every bit neutral with her concern.
“With the toy company,” I improvise, having absolutely no idea if the Bianchis had any trouble at all with their stores. “I heard there were some—financial irregularities.”
“I wouldn’t know anything about that,” Stella says primly, though her fingers tighten around the wreath she’s holding. “Nicholas was always very private about his business affairs. But then, it wouldn’t surprise me either. The Bianchi brothers were notoriously greedy as can be. That’s just general knowledge.”
A family with three small children who can hardly be contained approach us looking for assistance, and Stella holds up a hand their way.
“I should get going,” she says. “The lot’s getting terribly busy.” She taps a finger to her lips. “But you know, come to think of it, I did see something odd that night at the Jubilee. Did you happen to see a dark-haired gentleman who was upset with Nicholas? I only heard a snippet of their conversation, but Ibelieve it had something to do with business. Perhaps he’ll know about any financial woes the brothers were having.”
“Come to think of it, I did see Nick getting heated with a dark-haired man,” I say, as the memory comes back to me. “Do you know who he is?”
Stella nods. “Gabriel ‘Gabe’ Esposito. He owns Miracle on Main Street, the town’s year-round Christmas shop. And well, the name tells you exactly where you can find him.” She reaches into a basket hanging from her arm and extracts a candy cane, before offering it to me. “One for you—and one for your sweet puppy, too.”
Watson gives a quick bark of appreciation as if he understood, and I know for a fact he did. Treats are basically his love language, and they just so happen to be mine, too.
I accept the candy canes, ignoring the irony of taking potentially poisoned candy from a woman I’m investigating for poisoning.
“Thanks for your help, Stella. Will I see you at the Mistletoe and Merriment Gala at the Evergreen Manor?”
“Oh, you bet. That’s the auction I was telling you about.” She hands me an extra candy cane as she pushes past me. “Merry Christmas,” she sings before hurrying off to assist the waiting family.
“So, there’s that,” I say, giving Watson another kiss to his furry little forehead before taking off. I hardly make it back to the entrance when Niki, Aunt Cat, and Carlotta descend upon me like cheap tinsel on an aluminum tree.
“Did you get anything useful?” Niki asks, her cheeks flushed either from the cold or whatever cardio she got in with Santa’s hot helpers.
“Maybe,” I say. “What about you three? Learn anything interesting from the elven workforce?”
“Only that those tights leave nothing to the imagination.” Carlotta gives a chef’s kiss to her fingertips. “But I think we scared them off with our enthusiasm.”
“Word is getting out about what we did to those wax boys.” Aunt Cat gives a mournful nod.
