Phil's smile fell off his face as he looked between the two of us.

"Hello, Kay."

Phil looked a bit more relieved now that we were talking.

"You have a great singing voice." I couldn't think of anything else to say.

Phil smiled.

"Phil, Nancy and I have already met."

"You have? Where?"

"I met your wife at the retirement home where I'm the director. Kay performed CPR on our maintenance man when his heart stopped."

I could almost see Phil's brain light up in an ah-ha moment. Awkward silence followed.

"Phil, I think it would be best to tell you that I've thought over your band's proposal and I have decided against it." She glanced over at me. "I don't think it would be the right fit for me. Sorry."

"We're sorry to hear that," Mike said, who had just arrived with Dinesh to get more wine. They looked sad and confused to have walked in on Nancy declining to join their band.

"Well, I better be going." Nancy walked out of the study.

"I wonder what could have made her change her mind," Dinesh said. "She was so good."

"Don't worry. We'll find another good voice," Phil said.

I went back into the living room to look for Deirdre. She was talking to Rebecca and Jeff, our neighbor's from two doors down, who had just walked in the front door. I waved to Rebecca. She made a motion towards Elizabeth and John who were dancing to Otis Redding's rendition of "White Christmas." I grinned then thought of the last time I heard a different version of this song, at the retirement home watching Les on the ladder.

Elizabeth gave a little laugh as she danced with John. A laughter that was relaxed, like everything about her.

"Kay, you'll never guess who I saw leaving the party," Deirdre said.

"Nancy Reinhardt?"

"How did you know?"

"Tell you later."

Phil came into the living room carrying a tall glass of ice and a bottle of wine. He poured wine into our glasses, although his glass was the only one that needed filling. "Sorry, Kay. I didn't realize Nancy was the director of Hawthorne Hills. That must have been awkward."

"It's fine. No worries." I gave him a kiss on his cheek.

The recorded song that Elizabeth and John were dancing to ended. Elizabeth smiled as she passed us and walked into the dining room. Soon I heard a bell ring. Those of us in the living room followed the sound into the dining room to see what it was about. Mike, Dinesh, and others came into the room from the adjoining study.

Elizabeth put down the bell and proceeded to make a toast. "Welcome everyone. I'm glad you could make it to our Christmas masquerade party." She then covered her face with her hand held mask. I noticed a few other people did as well. John reached for Elizabeth and slipped his arm around her waist. "There's lots of food and drink. And dance all night." She raised her glass up and continued, "I know I've wished you this before..." Deirdre looked at me and started mouthing Elizabeth's words. "...but every year I wish it more. A Merry, Merry Christmas to you all."

Deirdre whispered into my ear. "She's right. She did last year...and the year before that...and the year..."

My attention moved to a distinguished looking man, who must have been in his late sixties, standing off to the side. He wore a casual, navy crewneck sweater and tan cordoroys. His arms folded, he seemed enthralled by Elizabeth's toast. I inched closer and continued watching him. He exuded wealth, his Corum watch gleamed on his wrist. Allen Edmonds peaked from under his trousers. He seemed to be in a trance. His eyes lingered on the picture Elizabeth imparted. An admirer?

Everyone in turn sang out, "Merry Christmas!"

As I stood in the doorway of the dining room, watching the man, I heard James Brown's "Please Come Home For Christmas" from the living room. Phil came over, took my hand and led me further into the living room. I cast one more glance over to Elizabeth's gentleman admirer, but he was no longer there. Looking around the room, his blue and tan ensemble was nowhere to be seen. I shrugged, letting Phil lead me. We started dancing.

"When can we leave?" he whispered discretely, a sweet smile on his face as he nodded to Elizabeth passing through to the kitchen.

"How about now?"

Chapter Four.

Wednesday, December 24 Christmas Eve I spent much of the morning in the kitchen preparing Christmas Eve dinner. I decided it would be fun to surprise the family with "A Christmas Carol" themed dinner. I wanted tonight to be a special and relaxing evening for the five of us. Tomorrow I'd have a houseful; it would be mayhem with Phil's relatives descending upon our home. Thank goodness, I had also invited friends as a buffer.

Phil came into the kitchen and took a bite out of an apple that was on the counter. "Hon, the presents in the bedroom closet, do you want them around the tree? I could bring them down."

"That'd be great. Have you bought yours yet?"

He busied himself washing a few dishes in the sink, pretending not to hear me. I thought so.

"I may have to run out to get a few last minute items later," Phil said nonchalantly after a minute.

Of course he does. Like everything. I wiped my hands on a towel and went into the living room.

"The tree's beautiful, Kay."

"Thanks. Wonder how long Elizabeth's party went on," I said, thinking about the mystery man who stood enthralled one minute, then seemed to have vanished the next.

"Well, it looks like all of the cars are gone. When I shoveled this morning, I didn't see any mystery men leaving her house." He laughed. I laughed too; perhaps Phil had read my mind.

"I'm sure John chased them all away," I said.

"Her one true love."

"At least for the time being."

Phil chuckled and looked outside. "It's starting to come down again. We're supposed to get another foot by tonight."

"I hope the boys make it home safe."

Phil put on some Christmas music and I went back into the kitchen. On the menu tonight was roast goose with sage and onion dressing, roasted potatoes, brussel sprouts with chestnuts, applesauce, plum pudding flamed with brandy, Port wine, and a hot potent punch for after-dinner toasts. Next to my cookbook was a dog-eared old copy of Dickens' masterpiece; I had done my research. This would be a dinner that even Scrooge would love.

Phil walked into the room and started chopping onions for the dressing. I thought it might be nice to have a little conversation while we were preparing dinner. I told Phil about Sarah's, Martin's, and Anne's suspicions. He gave the onion he was working on a mighty and poorly-aimed chop, barely missing his fingers.

"How do you keep getting yourself involved in things like this? Stay out of it, Kay! Stay out of it!"

"All I'm going to do is go over and talk to them on Friday!"

"I'm off of school for the next two weeks. All I want is to have a peaceful and relaxing Christmas with you and the family! No talk of murder, peanut allergies, or the retirement home!"

We worked in the kitchen in silence for a few minutes.

"Kay, we've come up with an awesome set for New Year's Eve."

So Phil decided to go with his usual safe topics: jazz and guitars.

The phone rang. Phil lunged at the phone. "I'll get it."

He took the phone in the other room. I could hear him talking quietly but couldn't figure out what he was saying. Strange how he grabbed the phone and left the room. Did he have a secret? Perhaps a special gift for me tonight? Or did he just want to get away from me? No, must be a present for me.

He came back into the room a few minutes later. "That was Andy. It's really coming down in the Cities. He's not sure he and Rose will be able to make it."

"I wish the snow would let up. I'd hate it if we couldn't all be together...especially tonight." What was the special surprise gift Phil had for me? He sounded disappointed. Maybe he was having Andy and Rose bring it for him.

I started peeling the apples. There were a lot of people at the Christmas tea at Hawthorne Hills. Being so rushed, the kitchen staff might have accidentally contaminated the food with peanuts. It would have taken only one careless worker. Perhaps they had been short-handed, and a devasting mistake was made.

"Phil, I'm going to run over to the retirement home and bring a plate of Christmas cookies to Sarah."

"In this snow? What if you get stuck?"

"Don't worry. I'll be back in an hour. It's Christmas Eve, and I'd like to spread a little cheer."

"I'll come along. You can drop me off downtown and I'll walk back. Finish my shopping."

Heavy, feathery flakes swirled hypnotically in front of my eyes as I drove the short distance to downtown and then Hawthorne Hills. I welcomed the warmth of the retirement home as I entered the front door with my cookies in hand. I went up to the third floor and rang Sarah's doorbell.

She answered straight away. "Merry Christmas, Sarah." I handed her the cookies.

"Kay, come in. Thank you." She took the plate in her hands. "They look delicious. I'll put on the tea kettle."

"Oh, I can't stay long."

"For a few minutes then. My children are coming tomorrow. There's a Christmas dinner here for the families."

I sat on the sofa facing her Christmas tree with its lights flashing off and on. If I had to watch those blinking lights all day, I'd go mad.

"Kind of surprising, considering what just happened."

"Les? Well, it is Christmas. Life goes on."

"Yes, business is very much as usual. Kind of bothers me."

Sarah nodded.

"Sarah, I've been thinking about Les. The kitchen staff was so busy at the tea. It could have been a simple mistake."

"And what if it wasn't? Remember all the others who also had peanut allergies?"

There was that. "I wonder what Les did on his days off?"

"I never thought of it. Why?"

We needed to get a clearer idea of Les' life. "Why would somebody want him dead? Did he live off campus?"

Sarah looked contemplative. I gave her a moment. Sarah and company were going to have to come up with something more than the coincidence with the peanut allergies if this investigation was going to go anywhere. We needed to establish a clear motive. I went on.

"Did you ever see him with any friends from outside work?"

"Kay, I've only been here a month. I'll have to ask Anne and Martin about that."

Glancing out the window, I could see the snowflakes getting heavier. Standing up, I said, "Sarah, I better get going. I'll come back on Boxing Day to talk about this in more depth."

"Merry Christmas!" we said to each other and hugged.

When I reached the lobby, Nancy glared at me from behind the front desk. I smiled at her. She then gave me a half-hearted smile. I was relieved that I wouldn't have to see her every time Phil's band performed.

I opened the front door. The cold blast of wind just about forced me back inside. As I walked out, I turned around, and saw Nancy on the phone. Was she calling someone about me? I was definitely starting to get paranoid. Martin's, Anne's, and Sarah's ideas of her murdering Les were rubbing off on me.

While brushing the snow from my windshield, I decided that I would drive over and pay a visit to Police Chief Kirk, to learn which foods served at the Christmas tea had contained the peanuts.

The parking lot was full at the police station, so I parked on the street. Loud Christmas music blasted out when I opened the door. The reception area was packed with people. The decor consisted of gaudy, red bells strung from wall to wall with lots of gold garland about. A bowl of punch was the centerpiece on a table surrounded by trays of cookies and platters with the makings for sandwiches. Chief Kirk was parked at the punch bowl, speaking to his receptionist, trying to be heard over the loud music.

When he saw me, he dipped the ladel into the punch bowl and offered me a cup. "Hello, Kay." His breath was hundred proof. Thrusting the cup toward me, he spilled a bit over his hand and back into the punch bowl.

Guess I didn't have to wonder if it was spiked. "Thank you. Where are the napkins?" I turned in the direction of loud laughter coming from the other side of the room. A group of officers stood in a circle, looking at some photos on a projection screen. It appeared to be the same group at another office function, mugging for the camera. The laughter grew louder as what seemed like an endless stream of photos paraded across the screen. I guess you had to be there. Or drunk. Or both.

"What brings you here?"

Chief Kirk and I went back a couple of months. He was given the credit for solving the ginseng murders, when I had handed the evidence to the FBI on a silver platter, since I wished to remain anonymous.

"Do you think we could go into your office?" I shouted. "I have a few things I wanted to ask you?"

"What?"

I pointed in the direction of the offices. "Can we go to your office?"

"Sure." He grabbed a second cup of punch. "This way."

We entered his spacious office. He had a table-top Christmas tree over to one side. Papers were strewn all over his desk. He shoved them aside to make space for our punch cups.