Hey, Christmas Murder fans, this is Katie a Cardo. Listen in while
I tell you the story of the Evergreen Murders. A McKenzie Monroe Christmas Mystery,
Part four detective work. The offices of Matheson and Matheson were housed in
a fourteen story building that towered over most of the others in downtown Columbus,
Ohio. It was modern in sleek, with a glass facade and black columns
flanking the grand entrance. Nick and mackenzie went up to the front steps and
entered through the revolving doors. Beyond them stretched a shiny marble floor with a
bank of elevators along the far wall. A security guard was hurt behind the
only dusk, speaking with a visitor, and as they walked past, waved
them through with barely a glance in their direction. Great security, Mackenzie remarked,
Even better for us. Nick replied, So, what's the plan here?
Mackenzie asked, Are we just going to waltson to Rick Matheson's office and
demand he tell us his whereabouts last night? That's the plan? Are you
serious? Pretty much? Nick pressed the button in the elevator for the fourteenth
floor and lounged back against the wall. He was silent while the car raced
up toward the top. The elevator dinged, and they stepped out and made
their way toward a pretty young buxom blonde sitting behind a tall desk. The
girl was staring intently at her cell phone, typing quickly. When she saw
Nick and McKenzie, she put down the phone and sat up straighter. Can
I help you? She asked politely. Nick pulled out his wallet and held
it open in front of her, before quickly snapping it shut. Police ma'am,
I'm Detective Cutler with the Columbus PD. This is my associate. We're
here to speak with Rick Matheson. Oh sure, yes, just one moment
please. The girl looked terrified and scurried away down a long hallway. What
did you show her, mackenzie whispered, Just my attorney, court Id Badge.
I'm not sure, mister Mathieson's secretary is the brightest bulb in the box.
Just then, the girl returned and swept her hand down the hallway from
which she had come. Mister Matheson will see you now take a rite,
and it's the last door down the hall. Thank you, Nick said gruffly.
They entered the executive suite. It was an enormous office with a gleaming
mahogany desk, leather couch, and tall file cabinets. A fully stocked bar
sat in the corner. Through the windows was a beautiful view of downtown Columbus.
Rick Matheson stood with his back to them, wearing a black pinstripe suit.
He was tall, and as he turned around mackenzie noticed very attractive in
a George Clooney sort of way. His face was stern as he greeted them.
Rick Matheson, he introduced himself as he held out a large hand.
In the other he held a tumbler glassful of an amber liquid. And you
are Detective Cutler Columbus p D. Nick began holding out his hand. No
you're not, Rick retorted, I know all of the Columbus detectives. Who
are you really? Of course you do? All right, then, My
name is Nick Tenenbaum, and this is McKenzie Monroe. I'm here because of
Denver Sebastian. Rick sat down in the chair behind his desk and gestured for
Nick and McKenzie to sit in the two across from him. Is Denver finally
ready to sell his land to me? Rick smirked and leaned back in his
chair. You're his lawyer, I presume I am, and friend, former
friend, former Yes, mister Sebastian was murdered late last night. Mackenzie and
Nick waited for some sort of response from Rick Matheson upon hearing the shocking news,
but received none. Matheson's face remained stoic, not even an eyebrow lifted.
Finally, he looked down at the glass in his hand, rubbed his
chin, and said, how rude of me. I never even offered you
a drink? Can I interest you in one? Mackenzie and Nick stared back
at him. Finally, Mackenzie spoke up, no, thank you, and
isn't it a little early for a drink? Rick just smiled. Mackenzie tried
again, mister Matheson, you were just told that a business acquaintance of yours
was murdered, and you have no response whatsoever. Well, Rick got up
out of his seat and walked toward the bar cart, where he poured himself
another splash. You see, mister Sebastian is not really a business acquaintance of
mine, because the man simply and consistently refused to do business with me.
And no, I do not have a response to his demise, because I'm
not surprised in the least. That man has a lot of enemies, maybe
more than I, and that is quite a feat. He chuckled to himself
quietly as he sipped his drink reflectively. So we've heard Mackenzie deadpanned, where
were you in the early morning hours of last night? Rick chuckled again,
This one is quite the spitfire detective, isn't she hilarious? I like her?
Nick shot Mackenzie A look. If you must know, Jessica Fletcher,
I was working late here at the office, Rick said. Nick piped in
with can anyone vouch for that? I suppose you could ask Celeste out front.
She was helping me with my work. I bet she was, Mackenzie
retorted. Matheson smiled a coy smile and drained the last of his drink before
he said, you know, I never understood why Denver never wanted to sell
me his land. I would have made him a very wealthy man. I
believe he had ties to it that went back generations. Nick stated, yes,
but you'd think someone would have talked some sense into the man. That
wife of his at least God knows his ex wife tried to. Now,
that is a sensible woman. Wanda. Do you know her? Nick asked,
yes, I do. I have had many dealings with Wanda Morris.
She still owns forty nine percent of the land and wanted desperately to strike a
deal with my firm. The only thing standing in her way was Denver.
If I were you, I would look at her if you really want to
find out who killed him. Wanda loathed him. Not only was he her
ex husband, but he was the only one standing in her way of becoming
a millionaire. Many times over, I heard her say to me once that
she wished the son of a bitch were dead. We seem to have heard
that phrase a lot lately. Nick said, I'm simply telling you what I
heard. That woman was out for blood. Nick stood up and stuck out
his hand again. Thank you, mister Matheson, He said, hope we
haven't taken up too much of your time. We can show ourselves out.
Rick held up his glass and ignored Nick's outstretched hand. Pleasure was all mine.
Best of luck to you both. Might I add that I didn't kill
Denver, but I wish I had. Whoever did certainly had the right idea.
And with that, Nick and Mackenzie walked out the door. Once they
were back in the car, Nick turned to McKenzie, So what did you
think about mister Matheson. I'm not sure, mackenzie replied. I certainly didn't
get a very good vibe from him. I know, Nick agreed, what
a slimeball, but that doesn't necessarily mean that he's the killer. He certainly
has the best motive, Mackenzie said, he does. Except for Wanda Denver's
ex wife. We need to go talk to her. Do you know where
she lives? Nick thought for a minute. Yeah, I think she rents
a room in the old Gordon Homestead out in the edge of town. They
turned the massive house into a four unit apartment complex. It's about a forty
five minute drive from here. You up for it, mac, sure,
Mackenzie replied, I mean, it's not like I have anything better to do
anyway. Besides, Cameron just texted me and said he was having dinner with
the cast. They're at the diner, and he said, your mom is
just beside herself because she's serving famous people. In her restaurant. McKenzie made
the air quotes motion with her fingers. Nick laughed, I bet my mom
lives for her candy cane movies and gossip magazines. Wait a minute, dinner.
He looked out at the dark and sky and disbelief and checked the little
red numbers on the digital car clock that read five thirty six PM. I
can't believe it got so late. We better get over there. Mackenzie looked
out the window and could only see inky blackness. It gets dark here so
early, she remarked. It's unsettling. That's just how it is. Nick
said, starting the engine. Not like La where the sunshines every day.
I don't know how you guys do it. No seasons, no snow,
no real Christmas. It's just so different. I hate Christmas anyway, Mackenzie
said, wrapping her coat more tightly around her suddenly chilled. Nick looked at
her out of the corner of his eye with a look of what Mackenzie could
only describe as contempt. Well, then, he said, turning his eyes
back to the road and pulling out onto the street. You're definitely in the
wrong place. They pulled up to an old homestead on the outskirts of town
about thirty minutes later. Right away, Mackenzie noticed that this part of the
village was vastly different from the bright and cheery downtown. For the first time
in the two days since she arrived in Evergreen, she did not see any
Christmas decorations. In fact, it was hard to see anything at all.
All she could make out was the creepy homestead, an ominous brick structure set
far back between the swaying Evergreen trees. The wind howled and swept, while
an old weather vane on the roof made a clanging sound as it swung wildly
back and forth. There were no lights on in the homestead. There seemed
to be no semblance of life at all. This is where Denver's ex wife
lives, Mackenzie asked, incredulously. That doesn't seem very nice. Nick offered,
hopping out of the truck and bringing up the flashlight on his phone,
which cut a swath through the darkness, illuminating a rickety stone path up to
the front door. Yeah, he continued, this isn't the nicest part of
town. I don't think Wanda got a whole lot in the divorce settlement.
In fact, I don't think she got anything besides the half of the forest.
I think this apartment was about all she could afford. They didn't have
any kids, and I know she was upset about what little she got.
That's why she so desperately wanted to sell her piece of the land. Does
anyone else even live here? Mackenzie asked, hurrying to follow closely behind Nick.
Besides, Wanda, you're round, I don't think so. This was
supposed to be a fancy new apartment complex, but the funding fell through,
so the town basically turned it into a seasonal housing for some of the workers
who coming in the fall to stay and work the forests. Typically everyone clears
out once the logging is done a couple days before Christmas. Like today,
it's a ghost town, I'll say, Mackenzie said. Nick made his way
around to the back of the house, his footsteps crunching over the snow as
he walked. At the back of the house was a little red door with
a four on it, the brass number hanging askew. A small window was
next to the door, with a curtain inside partially drawn. Doesn't look like
she's home, he mused as he raised his hand to knock on the door.
As he did so, the door creaked open with a small all amount
of force. He used. That's weird, he said, looking back at
McKenzie. That is, She agreed. I'm going to go check it out.
Something about this feels off. You stay here. I don't want you
coming in, Mackenzie Bault. You're going to leave me out here alone,
she asked, sweeping her hand around to indicate their surroundings. No way in
hell I'm coming with. You cannot be anything creepier inside than what is out
here. Nick looked at her for a moment and then shrugged his shoulders.
Okay, he acquiesced, but stay close behind me and be quiet. He
tentatively pushed the door open wider, placing his foot on the threshold, which
immediately emanated a loud groan. So much for being quiet, Mackenzie hissed.
Nick ignored her and beckoned her with his hand. As they made their way
into the small room, Mackenzie could make out a table to the left,
on which sat a lamp. She cautiously made her way over to the table
and fumbled for the switch. Mackenzie, no, Nick started to say,
but it was too late. She had already located the switch and turned it.
An eerie glow illuminated the room. Mackenzie surveyed the leather love seat with
its worn and cracked cushions. An old TV sat on a bookshelf in the
corner of the room with an empty wine glass and an almost finished bottle of
wine. A stone fireplace took up the majority of the other wall, with
a doorway leading into another room, and then right. When her eyes traveled
downward to survey the floor, she saw a terrifying sight. In the middle
of the carpet lay the figure of a woman in her late thirties. She
was pretty, with small features and short, curly, dark hair. She
wore a long sleeve shirt with an evergreen softball team logo displayed on it.
In her right hand, she was clutching a string of Christmas tree lights.
The bulbs broken, with shards of colored glass scattered all around her. The
remaining piece of string traveled across the carpet and was wound tightly around the neck
of the woman. Her brown eyes bulged and her other hand clutched desperately at
the lights encircling her neck that had resulted in her demise she was unmistakably dead,
Mackenzie let out a blood curdling scream. The Evergreen Murders is written,
produced, and performed by me Katie Cardo. Sound mixing provided by Jack Hire.
Music provided by Jack Hire, Jim Van Rieth, Steve Bain and The
Angel Choir. Tune in next Tuesday for Part five. See you then,