A Murder in Christmas Village (Christmas Village Mysteries Book 0) Read Online Free

those big boots of his? He cuts Wilkinson’s throat, turns, and leaves the same way. He might not have even noticed the dust on the floor.”
    The other three were stunned for a moment. Angela was the first to speak. “That actually makes sense in a pedestrian sort of way.”
    “Thanks…or same to you. I’m not sure if that was a compliment or an insult.”
    “I hate to rain on your parade, Deputy -”Doc Wilcox had spent the last couple of minutes leaning against the wall and wiping his glasses. Now that he was ready to take his turn, he replaced his glasses and stepped away from the wall, taking his place in the light. “- but I’m afraid that theory doesn’t fit the evidence. You see, Mr. Wilkinson’s boots were tailor-made for him, and for whatever reason, he had the letter ‘W’ emblazoned on the soul of each boot and another ‘W’ on each heel. I would imagine it was to signify his persona of ‘Wild Willy’. But what’s important is that when he stepped in the dust these W’s left their mark as well, and when I saw them with my own eyes they were as fresh as the moment he left them.”
    Bentley sighed. “So, we’re back to square one.”
    Angela flipped through her little notebook. “Since we’re stuck on square one for the time being, let me just recap and you three can tell me if I’ve missed anything pertinent.”
    “Now, I thought we were just talking,” Doc said, waving a finger. “I don’t want any quotes in the paper without my say so.”
    “You’ve got my word on that, Doctor Wilcox. I think at this point we all just want to know what happened.”
    “Very well then, let’s hear what you’ve got.”
    Angela took a deep breath as though she were preparing to sing, but instead she began quoting from her notes. “Let’s see, we have Willard Wilkinson seen inside the prop room at six-fifteen, alone and with the door open. At six-fifty-nine, Carlton Moore, the theater manager, is summoned to unlock the door and the body is discovered. It is some five feet into the room, the floor of which is covered in fresh saw dust. There are two sets of foot prints in the room, neither of which could have belonged to the killer. The victim died of a severed carotid artery. No weapon was found in the room. The only entrance and exit to the room is the door that leads into the hall. The deadbolt on the door was found locked, but the only keys were with Mr. Wilkinson and Carlton Moore, who is known to have been nowhere near the room at the time the murder must have been committed. The only suspect we have is Tex Bundy, a convicted thief and known lock pick who performed as a knife thrower. Bundy had the means, motive, and opportunity to commit the murder, though there’s still no explanation for the lack of foot prints. Either Bundy is guilty, or somebody is working hard to make him look guilty. Does that about sum it up?”
    “That’s about it as far as I can tell,” said Doc. “But for what it’s worth, the cut on the neck was on the right side of his throat and moved from back to front. If the killer were standing behind him, as I would expect, that would make him left-handed.”
    “What if the killer were standing in front of him?” asked Angela.
    “Same thing. It would take a southpaw to make that cut. But it’s all mox nix since no one else was in the room with him.”
    All the fight seemed to have left Bentley, who merely nodded in agreement. “Well, all is not lost. The sheriff is grilling Bundy, Deputy Shelton is still taking statements from some of the hands, and Deputy Pace is going through everyone’s cell phones. We might catch a break yet.”
    Maribel chuckled. “You are most right, young man. All is most certainly not lost.”
    “I know that tone, Auntie,” said Angela. “You have an idea, don’t you?”
    “An idea? Yes, oh yes. Nothing more, though. Deputy Bentley, am I to understand that Mrs. Wilkinson and Mr. Dandridge are being sequestered somewhere as we