The Heavenly Hazelnut Murder

by CC Dragon

  “Ed isn’t afraid of courts or jail,” Shelley warned.

  Eddie sniffled and wiped a tear away with a fist. “He’d kill us all if he thought he couldn’t hold on. I’m not mean or dumb. We had to get away or he had to die.”

  “Why didn’t you leave the python in the trailer for your dad to find?” I asked.

  Eddie frowned and scratched his head. “I don’t know. One snake…he’d probably do okay with that one. Luke would be terrified. It was funnier. I hope I didn’t get Trevor in trouble. It’s not like he programmed the snake to be mean or anything.”

  Gus pulled Shelley and me out of the bedroom. “I’m going to have a word with the Kentucky trooper, and social workers will come in and interview Eddie. He might get some counseling or a little time in a juvenile facility. I’ll have a talk with Trevor and his parents when I get back, too.”

  “Juvy? No, my baby was trying to protect us. Maybe play a bad joke on the pastor, but murder wasn’t the intent,” she insisted.

  “A judge will decide that, but you’ll probably end up back in Tennessee. You can’t move that far away from your kid’s father without a Tennessee judge signing off on your agreement,” Gus explained. “I’m sorry.”

  “Me too. I never thought…” I put my hand over my mouth to avoid saying the wrong thing.

  “We finally had a shot,” Shelley said.

  Gus put a hand on her shoulder. “You need to go through the courts. Divorce, document the abuse. I’ll testify. Plenty of people will. Once you’ve proven he’s an abuser, you can go as far away as you want. I’m sure people will help you raise some money to move. The key is you need to stand your ground and fight him in court. Make him pay.”

  Shelley sighed. “I don’t have a choice. I’ll get the kids to pack up.”

  When she opened Eddie’s door, the window was open.

  “He’s gone.” Shelley stared. “His emergency backpack too.”

  “He can’t have gotten that far,” Gus advised. He ran out to inform the other troopers.

  Epilogue

  Milan was back with the crew in the shop and acting like a supervisor as Jeff and Gus fixed the wiring. I tried very hard not to pay attention to the cursing coming from the back.

  “So little Eddie was found and isn’t going to jail?” Martha asked as she stocked the preserves.

  “He’s a child. It was a prank,” Gran argued.

  “Or maybe he wanted Luke to take care of the snake since he couldn’t release it? But they had to leave so fast he didn’t get a chance to do it right,” Milan argued.

  “The kids are victims of their dad’s abuse, and having to leave like that—I feel sorry for them, but you don’t leave a deadly snake in someone’s house,” I argued.

  “But, Belle, kids don’t think things through,” Martha explained.

  “He had a plan to handle his father. But you’re right. Kids don’t think things through the same way as adults.” I blended my berry smoothie until it was the perfect shade of blue.

  “That’s why they shouldn’t be allowed to keep dangerous animals as pets. They could end up in the hospital or worse.” Gran fussed over the coffee pots as the power blinked.

  “You ladies should be good to go,” Jeff announced.

  “A pastor shouldn’t be doing that sort of work,” Gran said.

  “Happy to help. I’m only on trial for a few months,” Jeff admitted.

  “People liked your few weeks’ try-out. Like the pastor’s house?” I asked.

  Jeff smiled. “Better than the jail or a closet, but I keep an eye out for snakes.”

  “What happened to Eddie?” Milan asked Gus.

  “He and his friend in town who actually put the snake in the house both got probation for a few years and can’t own any dangerous pets while on probation,” Gus said.

  “And Shelley?” Martha asked.

  “That’s a longer process. She’s given testimony about the abuse, supplied the court with pictures and also filed for divorce. Obviously, she has a restraining order, but she had to move back to Tennessee for the court. She’s staying with family. Ed is pissed and dangerous.” Gus poured himself an ice water.

  “Making yourself at home?” I teased.

  We’d been on a few dates since our Kentucky road trip. So far, so good, except when Dina crashes the fun at the Buckle.

  Gus’ phone beeped and he checked it.

  “I got the land with the trailer. They have to inspect and then we’ll close, but it’s all accepted and approved. Can’t get rid of me now, neighbor,” Gus teased.

  Gran clapped her hands. “Oh good, he has a barbed wire fence along his perimeter. We can let the goats roam farther. We won’t charge you for grass trimming services.”

  I laughed. “Gran.”

  “What? Now you boys go on to the house and put up those enclosures for the goats on our side. Took forever getting them in,” Gran huffed.

  “I think Lurlene has something to do with that. Sounded like they were there but no one called to set up a time for me to pick them up.” I shook my head.

  “Neighbors?” Martha asked with a teasing innuendo in her voice.

  “I wanted a bit more land and to still be in town. It’s better than renting and a start.” Gus smirked.

  Before the debate on financing and the housing market could begin, the band entered like royalty. Dillon and the guys ordered smoothies and muffins, and paid.

  “You guys gotta come tonight. Three new songs. Gus better sit in,” Troll said.

  “If they’re new, I don’t know them,” Gus countered.

  “That’s deep. We’ll teach you.” Troll smiled.

  “Gus doesn’t have to if he doesn’t want to. He’s got a steady girlfriend and an annoying ex. His life is complicated,” Dillon teased.

  “You’re the one who brought her back here,” I snarked.

  “Free country, she can go where she wants. Not on your property, we got that part,” Dillon said.

  “The enclosures came in for the goats, if you want to help,” Gran suggested.

  “We’re on that. Heading back right now.” Troll nodded to Jeff’s tool belt. “Is Pastor Jeff going to help?”

  “You coming to church on Sunday?” Jeff asked.

  Troll shrugged. “Can’t hurt. I hear your services are cool. Talking, not scolding or harsh. When I was a kid, church was nothing but sit still, itchy clothes and going to hell.”

  “I try to avoid all of those things. There are lot of pretty ladies in church.” Jeff smiled. “Let’s go build stuff. Idle hands…”

  Troll laughed. “I remember that. Idle hands are the devil’s workshop. I learned to play music and my hands always have something to do.”

  “Maybe you could take a look at the oven at the Buckle? It’s slower than all get out. Might need a new one, but something is wrong. We cleaned the grease trap and the vents, but nothing. I want to create a new menu for the bar—apps and so on, but it’s no good if the oven is unreliable,” Martha worried.

  “We’ll be there tonight before the guys go on,” Jeff offered.

  “Thanks,” Martha said.

  “I’m good with appliances. Gotta have cold beer,” Troll joked.

  * * * *

  That night, Gran was out to dinner with her fellas while Gus and I were trying out the apps Martha had whipped up. It took Jeff ten minutes and a new part from the store to fix the oven.

  “These are great, Martha!” I gushed.

  “Yes, I’m going to gain ten pounds just nibbling in my own bar.” Katie stuffed her face again.

  “Wouldn’t hurt you. Ladies today are too skinny,” Jeff said. “I’m off.”

  “Stay for the band,” Troll encouraged.

  Katie’s cheeks were a bit pink. “Yeah, I owe you a drink at least.”

  Jeff sat down and ordered a Coke. He looked a lot younger after a haircut, shave and some new clothes. He couldn’t be more than forty.

  Lurlene strolled in and ordered a drink.
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br />   “Glad they had that part in at the store, Miss Lurlene,” Jeff said.

  “We can order whatever you need, pastor. No trouble at all,” she said.

  Martha smiled. “You might have enough room for a new pizza oven, Katie. Expand your business. Put in a carryout window. Maybe delivery service?”

  “Maybe.” Katie shrugged.

  “To small towns and small business,” Jeff said.

  We all lifted our glasses and toasted.

  The band began to set up. I looked at Gus. “You’re not going to go join in?”

  “Nah. You?” he asked.

  I shook my head. “I don’t like singing in public.”

  “You disapprove of the choir?” Jeff asked.

  “No, it’s not that sort of singing and Gran never liked young ladies make a spectacle of themselves,” I explained.

  Jeff took a deep breath. “Gifts aren’t meant to be withheld.”

  “People are awful hard to please. Being in the spotlight just gives them a chance to nitpick,” I replied.

  Lurlene turned back from the stage and sampled a loaded potato wedge from our plate. “Don’t you worry. It looks like Dina is helping them tonight.”

  I glanced over and shrugged. Gus didn’t say a word.

  With the murders solved in Sweet Grove, now I could turn my attention to how to get rid of pests like Dina and figure out how to keep Lurlene from meddling in things. At least I had a hunky new neighbor and things were on the right path for us…

  “We need to add a hot fudge sundae to your menu,” I suggested.

  Katie laughed. “You supply me with some frozen hot fudge smoothies and I sell them.”

  “Done,” I agreed.

  That sounded like a delicious next project…

  A Note from Belle

  Hey y’all,

  I can’t even begin to believe it was a kid…but given his plan for his daddy and who his daddy is, that kid is going to be in jail at some point or another. Hopefully this chance for probation and guidance will get him on the right track for a different life. I’d bet my life and my truck his dad, Ed, will get himself behind bars soon, but the family might be safer.

  Not that my old truck is worth much these days…

  Don’t you worry about Dina. Katie and I will figure something out. The goats are too precious for words, but I’m not sure I can use them to get rid of Dina or sell enough of them to buy me a proper and new-to-me used truck.

  I do have a new neighbor coming and we’ve got a new pastor, who I think we’ll all like better. If he can get Troll to come to church, maybe he’ll surprise us all.

  Don’t forget to come back for my hot fudge sundae smoothie and the berry blues. I can’t tell which is better…

  Appreciate cha!

  Belle

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  A Little Bit Cupid: Lovestruck

  January Bain

  Excerpt

  Emma Valentine Hurst’s hand hovered over the open chocolate box. Hmm. A sinfully dark chocolate truffle or a heart-shaped melt-in-my-mouth orange liquor? After her dismal morning, both.

  She slipped the first one into her mouth, closed her eyes and let it melt on her tongue while trying to ignore the ongoing struggle of wills between mother and son right behind her. A sudden, sharp snap alerted her to trouble. She whirled around to discover her new Cupid-with-arrow display teetering precariously on its pedestal. In a flash, she leapt the short distance, just in time to save the display from toppling over, but not in time to stop the child from taking off with his prize, clutched in his candy-stained hands—the bow and arrow recently held upright and loaded for action by none other than Cupid himself.

  “Timmy! Stop that! Put that back right now. Don’t you dare, young man, I’m warning you!”

  Timothy Adam Jones took off like a bat right out of, well, Hades for the front door of the newly minted Valentine’s Candy Shoppe, his mother Vanity trying desperately to catch up with the five-year-old. He seemed to have been blessed with feet that must be invisibly winged like Mercury or Hermes, depending on whether one preferred the Romans or the Greeks. Emma was personally more enamored of the Greeks, as their mythology came first, though Cupid was decidedly more Roman.

  But the determined child, who had already made the front entrance, also had the advantage of being sugar-fueled, thanks to his doting mother allowing him to graze at each and every candy bin to his heart’s content, hence Emma’s dismal morning. To Vanity’s credit, she was hampered by her four-inch heels, a tight pencil skirt and a multitude of hair extensions that obscured her sideways vision like blinders on a plow horse. The fashion plate succeeded in only teetering dangerously back and forth on the tiled floor and within precarious inches of a towering display of cut-glass crystal stemware.

  Emma swallowed the remains of the chocolate and charged after the child, waving off his mother, who gave her a grateful, though chagrined, look. After all, he had her Cupid’s arrow clutched in his tight little fists, having torn it from her new Valentine’s display. So now the display didn’t make sense, for why would Cupid be holding his arms out so awkwardly? Pretending to mime an arrow? It just wasn’t going to work.

  And not to mention that her best friend Charm McCall had loaned it to her with the express order that Emma keep it safe and out of anyone’s hands. That it was the real deal. And, knowing Charm, that meant it was charged with magic, whatever that would entail. But right now, all Emma wanted was to get the precious artifact back in one piece and where it belonged before her friend found out what had happened.

  Timmy turned the handle of the shop’s front door and slipped through the opening before she could grasp the back of his snowsuit.

  “Whoopee, I’m Robin Hood!” he yelled at the top of his surprisingly robust lungs while tearing off down the street, holding his prize in front of him.

  Emma took off after him, grateful for her running shoes. She ignored the frosty air that bit at her skin. February in Snowy Lake in the northern reaches of Canada’s heartland was a cold, cold affair. The next two weeks plus one day of celebrating the Winter Festival—claim to fame the longest one in Canada, beating out Quebec by twenty-four hours—concluded with a Valentine’s Dance on Saturday, February fourteenth. The town, competitive? Naw. Well, maybe. But it was the highlight of their winter and helped the residents, all twelve hundred and fifty-nine of them on a good day, beat the doldrums of the endless, freezing white stuff that lined driveways and fields with equal abandon. Snow. The four-letter word that was greeted with such fanfare in late October, and vilified by most by early February.

  “Timmy! Stop! I’ll give you a big bag of candy,” she yelled at the small figure disappearing down the street, doing a dazzling display of male daring by pretending to shoot every person he met. He was also too busy darting around the legs of passersby to pay her any mind. She began to gain on him. Just a few more steps and I’ll have that little candy monster in my grasp.

  Ah-ha. She reached for him just as he let the arrow loose from the bow. No! She watched in horror as it went flying into the air on a straight trajectory and right into the backside of a retreating figure. The person, a man, stopped in his tracks. Oh—fudge. He was walking alongside Charm’s Mountie, Ace Collins. She grabbed the bow from Timmy and clutched it to her stomach. The child slumped to the sidewalk and began to cry.

  The tall man, as tall as Ace—who Charm had likened to Bigfoot on first meeting him out at Saskatoon, berry picking, last fall—turned around and stared right at her. Everyone else backed away a bit, leaving them to sort it out. Of course, they all stayed, lining the sidewalk—a good show in Snowy Lake was not something to be missed. A popcorn vendor was likely on his way.

  “You could have just said hello, but I get your point,” the man said, his brown eyes locked with hers. She couldn’t seem to find her tongue to speak. Words. That’s what’s needed. He’d just said something clever, so now it was her tur
n. But what could she say to this fine-looking hunk of maleness who carried such a striking resemblance to the town’s newest Mountie? Right down to the rich brown, wavy hair and chiseled jawline. Oh. My. Goddess.

  “I’m sorry. It wasn’t me. I mean, it’s my bow, on loan, but I didn’t shoot you. Timmy, tell the man.” She looked in desperation at the young boy still carrying on his now full-blown tantrum at her feet, rolling around the sidewalk in his bright blue snowsuit. “Tell him you shot him in the—aw—derrière, not me.”

  No help in that direction. Timmy ignored everything but his own grief at the loss of his new toy. The man continued to stare at her for a few more intense seconds, eyebrows raised in disbelief, before seeming to realize he had an arrow attached to his backside. Ace, his ever-supportive brother, stopped laughing long enough to inspect the damage.

  “Afraid we’re going to need medical intervention, Stone. That thing’s rather well embedded.” Ace’s tone was quite calm for a man whose sibling had just been shot.

  “Just pull it out already!” Stone’s deep voice growled from inside his rather large chest. He wore a black leather jacket and a navy-blue wool scarf wrapped around his neck. Too bad the jacket isn’t a longer length. It would have better protected his, ah—assets.

  “If you’re sure?” Ace did the honors. Emma stood frozen to the spot, in plain sight of the full-face wince that came over Stone’s handsome features as the arrow was withdrawn from the back pocket of his blue jeans, courtesy of his brother. She tried not to stare, but the removal of the arrow left a hole dead center of the pocket, though surprisingly no blood. Huh.

  Ace handed her the arrow. “You might want to keep better control of this.” He didn’t look too concerned, a twinkle lurking in his eyes as per usual. He was of great value to the town. A good man who knew his job and had the smarts to be pairing off with her best friend. His brother took a few more seconds before joining them. Emma swallowed over the lump in her throat. Even though she should be freezing in just a blouse and pants, perspiration trickled down her underarms.