by Meg Muldoon
Cinnamon Peters & The Rabbit Bandit
A Christmas River Cozy Mystery Short
Recipe included!
by
Meg Muldoon
Published by Vacant Lot Publishing
Copyright 2018© by Meg Muldoon
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance whatsoever to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
The Meg Muldoon Collection
The Christmas River Cozy Mystery Series
Murder in Christmas River: A Christmas Cozy Mystery (Book 1)
Mayhem in Christmas River: A Christmas Cozy Mystery (Book 2)
Madness in Christmas River: A Christmas Cozy Mystery (Book 3)
Malice in Christmas River: A Christmas Cozy Mystery (Book 4)
Mischief in Christmas River: A Christmas Cozy Mystery (Book 5)
Manic in Christmas River: A Christmas Cozy Mystery (Book 6)
Magic in Christmas River: A Christmas Cozy Mystery (Book 7)
Menace in Christmas River: A Christmas Cozy Mystery (Book 8)
Missing in Christmas River: A Christmas Cozy Mystery (Book 9)
Meltdown in Christmas River: A Christmas Cozy Mystery (Book 10)
Roasted in Christmas River: A Thanksgiving Cozy Mystery Novella
The Cozy Matchmaker Mystery Series
Burned in Broken Hearts Junction: A Cozy Matchmaker Mystery (Book 1)
Busted in Broken Hearts Junction: A Cozy Matchmaker Mystery (Book 2)
The Dog Town USA Cozy Mystery Series
Mutts & Murder: A Dog Town USA Cozy Mystery (Book 1)
Bulldogs & Bullets: A Dog Town USA Cozy Mystery (Book 2)
The Holly Hopewell Cozy Mystery Series
The Silence of the Elves: A Holly Hopewell Cozy Mystery (Book 1)
The Broomfield Bay Cozy Mystery Series (with Jools Sinclair)
Ginger of the West: A Witches of Broomfield Bay Mystery (Book 1)
Cinnamon Peters & The Rabbit Bandit
by Meg Muldoon
Author’s Note: Chronologically, this story takes place during the spring between Menace in Christmas River (Book 8) and Missing in Christmas River (Book 9)
Chapter 1
It was your average early spring day in Christmas River when Kara Billings came stomping into my pie shop kitchen, screaming about the violent murder of Henrietta O’Reilly.
Not that there really were any average days this time of year. Spring weather in the small, cozy town of Christmas River was about as predictable as a cold-footed bride on the morning of her wedding. Sometimes, the weather could be pleasant, and the white powder dusting the mountains in the distance would glisten in the warm spring sun. Other times, especially in the afternoon, clouds would gather overhead and before you could say “Cinnamon’s Pies” the little Oregon mountain town would practically be drowned in a torrent of rain and hail. Sometimes, it’d be so cold that it would just flat-out snow, and all of us Christmas Riverites would have to once again bring out the snow shovels and do some laborious clearing of our driveways.
But the morning that I heard about the murder was a nice one. The sun was shining, the sky was a clear, crisp shade of blue, and when I had taken my morning break outside with a cup of strong hazelnut coffee earlier, I felt like I could almost hear the forest itself stirring with the newness of spring. The birds were chirping and lime-green buds were beginning to show themselves on the spidery branches of the aspen trees by the back porch.
I was right in the middle of mixing up the silky peanut butter filling for a batch of Peanut Butter Easter Candy Pies – one of our most popular flavors so far this season – when my best friend came bursting through the back door, walking in like she was a lost member of our local high school’s championship-winning marching band.
I probably would have been more surprised by the commotion, but Kara had a flair for drama and this wasn’t the first time she’d come through the kitchen door like that.
But today, what she said after she walked in took my breath away.
“Murder!” she yelled, taking off her lilac-colored scarf and tossing it on the counter. “Poor Henrietta O’Reilly’s been murdered!”
My baking assistant Tiana, who had never quite gotten used to Kara’s boisterous personality, dropped the wooden spoon that she’d been using to mix the Strawberry Shortbread Pie filling she’d been working on. It let out a dull thud as it hit the counter.
Meanwhile, I struggled to come up with how to respond to Kara’s declaration.
It was hard to know where to start.
“What..? How..? I mean, who are you talking about? Who in the heck is Henrietta O’Reilly?”
It seemed like a perfectly sane question, but Kara gave me a deadpan look like I had just said something stupid.
“Henrietta O’Reilly! The rabbit I got for Laila last week. Remember?!”
I furrowed my brow, trying to recollect if Kara had ever told me about getting a pet for her young daughter.
I didn’t think I would forget about a rabbit named Henrietta O’Reilly. But I supposed it was possible that Kara had mentioned it and that I just hadn’t been listening. I’d been doing a lot of that lately – hearing things but not really hearing them. Normally, I was one of the best listeners around, but I’d had a lot on my plate this week. Daniel and I were hosting a big Easter brunch at our house for all of our friends and family, and we were also hosting an Easter egg hunt for the local Boys & Girl’s Club in our backyard meadow afterwards. Planning for the events had consumed most of my week.
“Oh, sorry,” I said. “I forgot about the rabbit.”
Kara let out a big sigh, tilting her head upwards towards the wooden beams of the ceiling.
“I should have never gotten a rabbit in the first place, Cin. Everything I read says that rabbits are bad pets to get for young children. But Henrietta was different than most rabbits, you know? She was calm and sweet and she loved nuzzling. Laila loved her so much and… oh, hell. Who am I kidding? I loved her so much. I think I probably got that bunny more for me than for little Laila.”
While she spoke, I had gone to the fridge and rifled around the many dishes of pie in there until I found a plate of Lemon Gingersnap Pie – Kara’s favorite flavor and the one that had calmed her down more times than I could count over the years.
“I know it’s silly,” she said, finally taking a seat at the kitchen island. “But I always wanted a rabbit. Ever since I was five years old and I met a really nice one in my kindergarten class that some kid brought in for show-and-tell. That one’s name was Henrietta. I went home that day and asked my parents if I could get one, too, but they said no. My mom said she would not allow one in her house.”
Kara rested her chin glumly on the palm of her hand.
“I must have asked her a thousand times for a rabbit. But she always said no,” she continued. “You know how things that you don’t get as a kid have a way of sticking with you? Well, not getting a rabbit certainly stuck with me. Some people feel that way about puppies or kittens. But for me, it was always about kits.”
“Kits?”
She nodded.
“That’s what they call baby rabbits.”
I’d known Kara for most of our lives, but somehow, we’d never discussed her love for the little creatures.
I supposed you could know a person for a long time, but there were still always new things to learn about them.
I cut a big piece of the creamy lemon pie, doling it out onto a plate. I slid it over to my best friend along with a fork.
“So how did it happen?” I said, watching her dig into the pie without a moment’s hesitation. “How was Henrietta murdered?”
Kara let out a sigh.
“Well, it’s all John’s fault, really. He was out back doing some yard work last night and he left the back door open for a while. I’d let Henrietta out of her cage, and Laila and I were petting her. But then the contractor in charge of our living room remodel called, and I got distracted. I went upstairs to look for some old receipts I’d put somewhere in the office. When I got back, Henrietta was gone.”
Kara inhaled another bite of the pie.
“John thought he’d seen some small creature over by the far fence when he was working. So we searched the whole yard until the sun went down. When we didn’t find her, I went around the neighborhood in the dark with a flashlight, looking for her and calling to her.”
I stifled a smile that had no place in this conversation. But the image of Kara pounding the pavement in the dark shouting “Henrietta!” at the top of her lungs was just too funny.
“I’m sorry, Kara,” I said turning my face so she wouldn’t see the smile creeping across it.
I cleared my throat.
“But when you came in here, I thought you said Henrietta had been murdered,” I said. “How do you know?”
Kara shoveled the last bit of pie into her mouth in what some might call an un-lady-like fashion.
“This morning, I went looking again in the neighborhood for her. I asked a few neighbors if they’d seen a rabbit, and nobody had. Then, I came across Mr. Burke. You know, the man who lives directly behind us and keeps mostly to himself? Well, he was out on a walk with his dog. A mean-looking dog if I ever saw one, Cin. Lots of neighbors say its part Pitbull – which as you know, isn’t legal in our neighborhood. But nobody’s made any problems because Mr. Burke always keeps that dog on a leash and makes it a point to never attend any neighborhood association meetings.”
Kara shook her head.
“Well, when I saw him, I asked if he had seen a rabbit around the neighborhood. And I tell you, Cin – he went stark white and couldn’t even seem to answer. He just tugged on his dog’s leash and brushed past me. The look of guilt on his face was unmistakable. And I don’t have to be a detective to know that that mean old Pitbull of his killed poor Henrietta O’Reilly.”
Her voice had turned shaky with anger.
“But, you can’t know that for sure, Kara,” I said, wondering if I should try to argue for reason at all – sometimes in these kinds of situations, reason didn’t help much. “You said Mr. Burke mostly keeps to himself. Maybe he’s just awkward around people.”
“No way,” Kara said. “That dog did it. I could see it written all over both of their faces.”
She shook her head.
“And now I’m going to somehow have to explain to Laila what happens when pets die and have that whole conversation about death, and I was really hoping that that conversation could wait a year or two.”
She let out a deep breath.
“Not to mention how smitten Edna’s going to be with herself, thinking she was right all along.”
“What? What do you mean?”
Kara was referring to her 90-plus-year-old mother-in-law, who, to put politely, was a real thorn in her side. They never got along to begin with, but their differences had only gotten worse since Laila was born.
“Edna thought it was a bad idea to get a rabbit,” Kara said. “She doesn’t believe kids should have pets unless they’re old enough to take care of them. She says it breeds irresponsibility if they grow up thinking everything will be taken care of for them. Now she’s going to be up there on her high horse, laughing down at me and saying I told you so.”
I noticed Kara’s empty plate, and without her having to ask, filled it up with another slice of pie.
I wagered it was a two-slice kind of morning for my friend.
“I’m really sorry about all this, Kara. Is there anything I can do to help?”
Short of starting up a Henrietta O’Reilly search & rescue party, I didn’t know what I could do.
“Well, actually, now that you ask, Cin – there is something you could do for me.”
I raised my eyebrows, watching as she started digging into the second slice of pie.
“You could ask Daniel to look into it,” she said.
I struggled for words.
“You want Daniel to look into—”
“If Henrietta was eaten by Mr. Burke’s dog, then it’s a crime, isn’t it? Henrietta could have been considered livestock. And dogs – especially half-Pitbull dogs – can’t just eat livestock without consequences.”
It sounded as if Kara had been doing research on this.
“I don’t want to make any unneeded trouble for anyone,” she continued. “But I loved that rabbit. And cheese and crackers, I think justice should be available to everyone – even members of the Lagomorph species, don’t you?”
I furrowed my brow.
“Lago-what?”
“Lagomorph.A fancy word for rabbit species.”
I cleared my throat.
“I guess so, Kara, but—”
She stood up, carrying her plate over to the sink.
“Thanks so much, Cin. It really means a lot to me that you’re doing this.”
She grabbed her scarf, wrapped it around her neck, and gave me a hug.
“And more importantly, Laila’s grateful, too. She really did love that rabbit.”
“Well, I—”
“See you later?” she said.
“I, uh—”
“Good.”
She started heading out.
A moment later, the back door slammed shut.
Chapter 2
“Darlin? You know I’d go to the ends of the earth for you. You know I’d climb the highest mountain in Nepal. I’d swim down to the lowest canyon in the Pacific. I’d fly up to the stars for a chance at seeing that pretty smile of yours.”
I beamed at the rampant flattery my husband was laying on me.
Daniel stopped walking down the trail we’d been strolling on with the two pooches, and turned to look at me.
“But I just can’t go around accusing people and their dogs of killing a rabbit,” he said. “And anyway, it sounds to me like this is more of a case of misplacement than anything else.”
“But isn’t it a code violation of some sort if a dog ends up killing someone’s pet or livestock? Isn’t that something the Sheriff’s Office enforces?”
That argument somehow didn’t seem nearly as strong coming out of my mouth as it had coming out of Kara’s mouth. But I said it anyway, doing what I could to help my best friend.
“Yes, it is,” Daniel said. “But it’s hard to prove something like this.”
It was Daniel’s lunch hour, and I’d met him halfway between the Sheriff’s Station and my pie shop on the Meadow Lake Trail to bring him a slice of the Peanut Butter Easter Candy Pie.
“You need eyewitnesses and evidence,” Daniel said. “Which it sounds like there isn’t much of in this case.”
I watched as Huckleberry and Chadwick sniffed along the base of a stand of junipers. The pooches seemed to be enjoying all the new smells of spring.
The day had stayed warm and beautiful. A soft breeze was rustling the branches of the trees around us, and I predicted that it would hit 70 degrees by the time I got back to my pie shop.
“And I don’t want to sound insensitive, Cin. But… it’s a rabbit. And you know how busy things have been at the office lately. The warm weather always brings on a big uptick in crime. We�
�ve got a lot on our plate lately.”
“I know, but it’s not just a rabbit, Daniel. It’s Henrietta O’Reilly. Kara loved that little creature. And she wants to see justice for it.”
Daniel looked off into the distance for a long minute.
Then drew in a deep breath and showed why he was such a good husband.
“All right. Let’s look into it tonight,” he said. “You and me. Off department hours. Okay?”
I smiled, hooking my arm in his.
“Sounds like my kind of date,” I said.
Chapter 3
“Okay, so back here is the Billings’ fence,” Daniel said, nodding to the freshly-painted wooden stakes that divided the backyard from the small field.
He walked a little way through the overgrown grass, studying the ground.
“And John said he saw the creature heading out in this direction, possibly toward the Burke house.”
I followed Daniel as we stalked through the freshly-watered green field. The sun was sinking lower in the sky and the air was getting colder, reminding us that while today had been blue and warm, it would still be a long time before we could count on warm days.
Daniel continued in silence, his eyes fixed on the ground as he searched for any sign of what could have happened to Henrietta.
We had already talked to Kara and John to get their version of events. We’d also knocked on almost all the neighbors’ doors.
Nobody we talked to had seen Henrietta, and there were no new leads.
Kara’s hunch that the Pitbull was responsible for the bunny’s demise was the only thing we had to go on. That, and Daniel’s own theory that Henrietta more than likely just ran away and was somewhere living the high life of a free rabbit in the wild.
Daniel drew in a deep breath.
“Well, I guess there’s nothing to do but to talk to Mr. Burke,” he mumbled, clearly not too keen on the idea.
