Miss Frost Chills the Cheater

by Kristen Painter

  “We could talk to your father or your uncle. Or the constable. Or Francis. If you really want to go there.”

  “No, not yet. I think we should stick to my dad, Uncle Kris, and Constable Larsen. We need to fill them in anyway. But maybe that’s what the note is trying to get us to do. React.”

  “So…do you not want to react?”

  “I do. I just don’t know how.” I tipped my head back against the couch cushion. “Chocolate cake would help me think.”

  He laughed. “All right. Get some shoes on and let’s go down to the kitchen.”

  But I stayed where I was and took the collar out of the box, turning it in my hands. “This will be a great cover for Spider’s ability to talk. Not sure how he’s going to feel about it, though. He’s not much of a talker in front of anyone but me.”

  “Apparently. Maybe this will change that.”

  “I’m sure it will, and even if it only works half the time, can you imagine how these will fly off the shelves? I mean—” I sat up, collar still in my hand, and blinked hard a few times before turning toward Sin. “Why on earth would Stanley enter that robot chicken when he’s sitting on a collar that translates your pet’s voice? It’s not a toy in the strictest sense of the word, but it’s close enough. What kid wouldn’t want to be able to talk to their pet? I realize he made the chicken for his granddaughter, but he could have just given that to her. This collar is amazing.”

  Sin put his arm up on the back of the couch. “Those are very good questions. And ones you should probably ask him.”

  “We will. Right after your interview at the Post.”

  “Do you know where he lives?” Sin asked.

  “No, but that’s easy enough to find out.”

  “Good.” Sin stood. “Because I don’t think those questions should wait until the morning.”

  “You’re serious?”

  “Yes. Let’s do this. Let’s figure this out. So what if we wake him up? You’re heir to the throne. I see the kind of power you have. Let’s put it to use.”

  I jumped to my feet. “You’re right. Let’s do it.” I held my finger up. “But not in these clothes.”

  Our first stop after changing was Ezreal’s apartment in the staff wing of the palace. He was up and happy to help. “Come in.”

  “I’m glad you haven’t gone to bed yet.”

  “No, no. Just finished sending a notice to August Woolsey at the Post that his request for additional security was approved.” He waved us in.

  “That’s great.”

  “Your father had me send it with one of the palace guards. He’s starting watch at the paper until they can hire their own additional people.”

  “That’s my dad.” Ezreal’s place was nice. Small, but well appointed. My father had offered him a larger place a few years ago, but Ezreal had turned it down, so my father had given him a budget for redecorating instead. I wasn’t an expert by any means, but it seemed to me Ezreal had used that budget wisely.

  Ezreal nodded. “He never does anything in half measures. What can I help you with?”

  “I need Stanley Kinder’s address. Any chance you might have that?”

  “I think so. Follow me.”

  He led us into his home office. One wall held a shelf of boxing trophies and photos from his fighting days. Sin went over and started looking at them.

  “Give me just a moment.” Ezreal veered toward a set of ledgers that took up one long shelf above his desk. “This is a few years old, but I don’t believe the Kinders have moved.” He pulled down one marked Tinkers and paged through it.

  Sin glanced around at some of the other boxing memorabilia in the office. “You did all right in the ring, didn’t you?”

  Ezreal looked up and smiled. “I did. Still train three days a week in the palace gym if you ever want to spar.”

  “For real?” Sin rocked back on his heels. “I would actually love that.”

  “Please,” I said. “Don’t break my boyfriend.”

  Ezreal laughed. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

  “Hey, now,” Sin said. “I don’t want special treatment. I can survive a black eye or a fat lip.”

  Ezreal tapped the page. “Found them. Seventeen Cranberry Lane.”

  I stuck my hands in my jean pockets. “Old neighborhood but very nice. Thank you. We’ll get out of your hair now.”

  “It’s never an inconvenience, Princess. Mr. Crowe, I’ll be happy to supply you with a beatdown whenever you’re ready.”

  Sin barked out a laugh and stuck out his hand. “I like you a lot, Ezreal. I’ll be in touch about that beatdown.”

  We left and went straight to the crawler. The transportation valet was not as schooled at keeping the surprise out of his face as Sin’s valet had been. His eyes rounded when he saw us, but then he quickly regained his composure. I’m sure we were the last people he expected to see at this late hour.

  He gave me a little bow, then asked, “The crawler, Princess Frost?”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  It took a little longer. Apparently, they’d garaged all the crawlers for the evening already. But a few minutes later, we were on our way toward the Tinkers’ Village, often affectionately referred to as Toy Town.

  Cranberry Lane was a beautiful street of older townhouses. It was no real surprise that the Kinders lived here. They’d been tinkers for a long time. If I had to guess, I’d say the house had been in the family equally as long.

  I parked, and Sin and I went up the steps to the door. The front light was on, but so were the front lights of most of the townhouses. Didn’t mean the Kinders were awake. I rang the bell and hoped for the best.

  It took a few minutes, but Mrs. Kinder came to the door, dressed in a flannel robe and a nightcap, instantly making me feel bad for disturbing them so late.

  “I’m sorry to bother you—”

  She dropped into a curtsey far lower than I would have expected from a woman of her age. “Princess Frost.”

  “Yes, ma’am. I was wondering if we could talk to your husband, Stanley.”

  As she rose, he appeared behind her. He was still in his work clothes. “Princess Frost, what an honor to have you at our home.”

  “I’m sorry about the late hour, Stanley, but we really need to speak with you.”

  “Of course, come in.” He moved out of the way, concern filling his gaze. “I hope the gifts I sent weren’t out of place. I just thought—”

  “No, no. They were great. But they are a big part of why we’re here.” The Kinders’ home was charming, cozy, and neat as a pin. It looked picture perfect. Like a photo out of Tinker Life magazine. (Yes, that’s a real publication.) I took that to mean Mrs. Kinder didn’t allow the kind of chaos that existed in Stanley’s work space. “Can we talk somewhere?”

  Mrs. Kinder gestured to the room behind us. “Please, use the sitting room. I was just making some hot chocolate. I’ll get some for everyone.”

  “That sounds wonderful,” Sin said.

  “It is,” Stanley said. “Gracie grew up in a confectioners’ household. She’s a whiz with sweets.” He led us into the sitting room.

  I took a spot on the couch. “I’m more of a whiz at eating sweets.”

  Sin sat beside me.

  Stanley chuckled. “That’s more my area of expertise too.” He took one of the easy chairs. “What can I help you with?”

  Sin glanced at me, giving me a little nod. I smiled at Stanley. “Those collars you sent over are really something. We already tried one of them on Sinclair’s cat, Sugar, and it worked like a charm. It was amazing.”

  He smiled back. “Thank you. I’m glad you like them.”

  “We love them,” Sin said. “Sending them was a very thoughtful gift.”

  “It was,” I added. “But it made me think. When you have something that amazing, why didn’t you enter the collar instead of the robot chicken in the Tinkers’ Tourney?”

  Stanley shrugged. “The collars are really prototypes. They’re n
ot ready for mass production yet. And Mrs. Clucks-A-Lot was my gift to Lyla. Her inspiration, my creation. I was hoping that seeing her idea come to life would inspire her to be a tinker.”

  Mrs. Kinder walked in with a tray of steaming mugs. “There’s no shame in being a confectioner, Stan.”

  “No, honey, of course not. There’s no shame in any profession. But there’s no shame in me wanting to sway her a little either.”

  Mrs. Kinder handed out the mugs of hot chocolate. Fat, snowflake-shaped marshmallows floated on top. No doubt also homemade. She shook her head. “Our son became a builder, and it looks like his three little girls all want to pursue baking or confections. Stan is the last of a very long line of tinkers in the Kinder family, so it’s been hard.”

  The thought of that squeezed my heart. “Oh, Stanley, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

  He stared at his hot chocolate. “I don’t know what happened, but none of them want to make toys.” He looked up at us, attempting to smile. “I’ll be okay. But after me…no more Kinder Creations.”

  “There will always be Kinder Creations.” But I knew that wasn’t true. At some point, that label would be retired.

  He smiled a little more. “That’s kind of you to say, Princess.” He let out a long sigh. “Maybe one of them will change their mind and decide to make toys after all.”

  I sipped my hot chocolate. It was exceptional. “How old are they?”

  “Three, six, and nine.”

  Sin laughed softly. “Still lots of time for them to figure out what they want to do in life. I have two nieces—a seven-year-old and a thirteen-year-old. They’ve already been through about a dozen careers already.”

  Stanley’s smile seemed more heartfelt after Sin’s words. “Children do change their minds, don’t they? I was just hoping a good showing at the tinker competition would help with that. But now…I guess there won’t really be a tourney this year.”

  I sighed. I was letting my frustration show, but I didn’t care. “I’m sorry we bothered you so late. And I’m sorry we haven’t gotten much further in figuring out what happened at the tourney. I wish I had answers, but I don’t.”

  Stanley nodded. “They’ll come. I hope.”

  Since we were here, I decided to ask a few more questions. “Do you have any enemies, Stanley? Anyone who’d want to see you fail?”

  He shook his head. “Not that I know of. I certainly hope not, anyway.”

  We fell into silence until Sin chimed in. “Mrs. Kinder, this is the best hot chocolate I’ve ever had.” He lifted his mug. “What’s your secret?”

  She smiled profusely. “A little touch of cinnamon and a vanilla bean that’s been soaked in bourbon. Oh, and a dash of sea salt.”

  He laughed. “I think it’s that bourbon-soaked vanilla bean that does it.”

  She blushed a little. “I’m sure you’re right.”

  He took another sip, then looked at me. “Maybe you should tell them what we learned at the farm.”

  I thought about that. “I guess I could. What have we got to lose?”

  Stanley sat forward. “Tell us what?”

  I glanced at Mrs. Kinder before answering him. “First, let me ask you when Lyla’s birthday is?”

  Mrs. Kinder answered me. “September twenty-sixth.”

  I shook my head. “So that part was a lie.”

  Stanley frowned. “I don’t understand.”

  “You know how you told me Lyla won a stuffed chicken in a contest? There was no contest. But a woman did come into the gift shop and send a stuffed chicken to Lyla after the class field trip. She said it was for Lyla’s birthday.”

  “But the note said it was because she’d won a contest. What woman was this?” Mrs. Kinder asked.

  “We don’t know.” I wrapped my hands around my cup. “We have a description, but that’s about it.”

  “Tell us,” Stanley said. “Maybe we can help.”

  “All we know is she has an average build, short, medium blue hair with a few silver streaks, and was about midsixties. And she wore glasses. Could be anyone.”

  Stanley looked at his wife, then back at me. “Sounds like a lot of women in the North Pole.”

  “I know.” I drank the last of my hot chocolate, resisting the urge to use my fingers to retrieve what was left of the marshmallow, and set the mug aside. Then I remembered something. “Hang on…”

  I dug into my purse. I pulled out the note from the farm that Greta Ann had given us, the note that had Lyla’s address scribbled on it. I held it out to Stanley and his wife. “Does this help? It could be a sample of the woman’s handwriting.”

  Stanley reached out and took the paper, the color leaching from his face even as an angry spark lit in his eyes. “Yes, it helps. I know this scrawl. It belongs to Dora Frigit.”

  I shook my head. “Name sounds a little familiar. Who is she?”

  A muscle in his jaw twitched. “The Glitterskins inventor. The third tinker in the competition.”

  I squeezed Sin’s hand as we walked down the Kinders’ steps. “You were right.”

  He smiled. “Happens occasionally. But it doesn’t solve anything. Just gives us one more thing to investigate. Maybe moves us closer to an answer.”

  “But it makes perfect sense. If Dora somehow got these other two tinkers to put up the same kind of toys, and they get disqualified from the competition, she wins by default. I mean, it’s perfect.”

  “I agree. If it is her, I guess starting rumors about me and trying to make it seem like your cousin is after the throne are her way of distracting people from what she’s up to.”

  “Or maybe she wasn’t hoping to distract anyone but us. You know, get us off on the wrong path. Still, seems like a lot of effort to go to just to win a competition. Especially going after you. What if you’d decided to go home like you originally offered? Her distraction would have been gone pretty quickly.”

  “Maybe she knew you wouldn’t let me go. You didn’t, after all. And stirring people up is a great smoke screen. Especially if you can make them afraid. And who better to do that than a necromancer?”

  We hopped into the crawler, Sin behind the wheel.

  “I guess so. Something about it feels like a real reach to me. For a tinker to rely on the complicated lives of the royals to cover her deception? How would she know enough about us to even make us part of her plan?”

  “You said yourself nothing stays secret in the palace.”

  “True.” I rolled that thought over. “You know, when we were in the square waiting for the toys to be revealed, I could have sworn I heard people calling you a necromancer in the whispers that were going around, but I didn’t understand how anyone would know that. That information wasn’t hidden, but it wasn’t published either. All I can think is that someone overheard my parents or my aunt and uncle talking about you.”

  Sin stared at me in that way he had that meant he was stuck on a thought. He started to slowly shake his head. “Maybe it wasn’t any of your family.”

  “Then who?”

  “Yesterday, when we were on the Segways in the hall, you said something about falling in love with a necromancer as we passed those housekeepers.”

  My mouth fell open. “You’re right. I did. So much for taking my own advice about not saying anything in front of staff that I don’t want repeated.” I groaned, frustrated at myself. “I’m going to ask Mamie to give me everything she’s got on Dora Frigit in the morning. In fact, if it’s okay with you, I’ll drop you at the paper for your interview, then go see Mamie. I want to know if Dora’s got friends in the palace. Friends that would give her the kind of details she could use against us.”

  “I’m good with that plan. Let’s keep this ball rolling.”

  I looked over at him. “Oh, this ball is gonna roll. But first…” I bit my lip as I smiled.

  His brows rose. “What?”

  “I still want chocolate cake.”

  “You just had hot chocolate,” he teased. “Reall
y good hot chocolate.”

  “That was like an appetizer. I need the main course now.”

  He laughed as he drove through the quiet streets. Amazing what a little info and the promise of sugar could do for our moods.

  “You know, this could mean my cousin is in the clear. Or…” I tapped my fingers on my knee. “Could he be working with Dora? He’s always aligned himself more with the builders than the tinkers. Although I guess that will change to the decorators when he marries Umelia.”

  “I guess anything’s possible.” He kept his eyes on the road as we went over the Meltwater River Bridge. “How can we find that out?”

  “Mamie might be able to give us more info about access to the tinkers’ floor. I don’t know if the elevator records what badges are used, but that’s a place to start.”

  “Can’t hurt to ask, right?”

  “Right.”

  He pulled through the palace gates and back to the south entrance. He parked, handed the keys to a valet, and we went inside.

  I took his hand again and led him to the kitchens. There was no one there, which made the space feel even bigger. Everything sparkled like it was new.

  He did a slow spiral, taking it all in. “This is some kitchen.”

  “There’s a cook on call overnight too. Just in case someone gets a craving for something that isn’t in the family fridge.”

  “The family fridge?”

  I walked over to the stainless-steel double doors and opened them, showing Sin what I meant. “This. The chefs prepare food that’s easy to grab and go and put it in here for the family and palace staff. That way, if any of us gets hungry, we can help ourselves.”

  “I like that.” He tipped his head toward the shelves of food in front of us. “Rather high ratio of sweet to savory, don’t you think?”

  I reached in and hefted out the tall, triple chocolate cake that was almost always on hand. “I think it’s perfect. Grab some plates, would you?” I pointed with my elbow. “That first cabinet, middle shelf. Oh, and we need ice cream. And whipped cream. Forget plates, get those big bowls.”

  “What? No sprinkles?” Sin laughed and went to the cabinet I’d indicated.

  We destroyed two massive slices of cake with ice cream, whipped cream, and sprinkles, then finally headed back upstairs.