The Emma Wild Mysteries: Complete Holiday Collection Books 1-4 (Cozy Romantic Mysteries with Recipes)

by Lin, Harper

  “But it could’ve been anybody,” said Sandra. “Our team is interviewing all the witnesses they can find. If they saw someone, they would surely let us know. I mean, there were plenty of people at the festival.”

  “That’s the thing,” I said. “I think if it was a stranger, wouldn’t someone notice him? What if it was someone the children already knew? Maybe he was a local, someone close to the family.”

  “Are you sure that the person was even a man?” Sandra’s eyebrow arched again.

  I thought about it. “Whoever it was had short hair, so it’s a possibility that it could be a woman, yes.”

  “It’s really very little to go on,” Sandra said. “It could’ve been anybody. Maybe just a friendly neighbour or something. You didn’t actually see the man take the children, right?”

  I hated to admit it, but Sandra was right. Maybe it was nothing.

  “I just thought you might want to know this bit of info,” I said. “It seemed strange that the children would be gone just minutes after the man left.”

  “Well, thanks for taking the time.” Sandra smiled condescendingly. “We’ll continue to interview people at the festival and see if anyone else has a more detailed description of this man.”

  She stared at me, as if waiting for me to go. My gaze reverted to Sterling, who said nothing and only put on a strained smile in the midst of the tension.

  My eyes fell to a ziplock bag on the table. There was a piece of paper inside.

  “Is that the ransom note?”

  Before they could answer, I jumped up to read it. It was written in a funny cursive writing, sloppy, like a child’s.

  “The twisted sunlight of morning’s path; to the land of turmoil in the night’s dead; children’s laughter echos hallow…”

  “Please!” Sandra’s pretty face twisted into a less pretty scowl. “This is classified information.”

  She grabbed the note from the desk.

  “I’m good at solving cases,” I said. “Let me help.”

  Sterling spoke up for me. “Yes, Emma has a knack for this. She can be an asset.”

  Sandra shot him a look. “This is against police regulations. You can have your badge suspended for divulging information to the public. We have plenty of boys on the case, and Sterling and I have plenty of experience. Let us professionals handle it.”

  “I just have this hunch that the kidnapper is close to the family. Whoever he is probably knows the children—”

  Sandra raised an arm and cut me off. “Now of course he knows who the children are. They’re famous. Maybe celebrities don’t have the perspective that we civilians do. The mayor’s family is in the public eye. Everybody knows who they are.” She sighed impatiently. “Celebrity or not, you can’t just waltz into our office and start pointing fingers. We have a system in place and we are working as hard as we can. We have no time to waste on the silly musings of an outsider.”

  I looked at Sterling, but he looked defeated. He didn’t defend me again.

  Sandra’s arm pointed to the door and I went out.

  I turned around and tried one more time, “I just think—”

  The door slammed in my face.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The nerve of that woman. I stormed out of the station, absolutely livid, and headed straight to Mirabelle’s cafe.

  The lineup for coffee and chocolate wasn’t as long as it usually was, and Mirabelle was behind the counter helping another barista make the drinks. When I came in, she saw how upset I was and waved me back to her office. We were sisters; we could communicate without speaking.

  I plopped down on her blue beanie chair at the corner of her office and told her all that had transpired at the station with Sterling and Sandra.

  “She sounds so rude,” Mirabelle exclaimed. “Slamming a door in your face! I know they’re under a lot of stress, but that’s uncalled for.”

  She got up and took out a box from her freezer. After fumbling around back there, she slid me a red velvet cupcake on a plate with a plastic fork.

  “This is absolute amazing. You have to try this.”

  “Thanks Mirabelle,” I said.

  I dug into the cupcake, straight for the centre. The cheesecake filling oozed out. I shoved half of the thing in my mouth and felt better immediately. It would’ve been better if it was warm, but you couldn’t go wrong with a red velvet cupcake.

  “Don’t let her get to you,” she said. “Maybe it’s not personal. She might be the high-strung type.”

  But I couldn’t help thinking that Sterling and Sandra looked like they would make a good couple. They were both detectives and gorgeous. Sandra was the smart type. I had always been terrible at school. I never studied, and only thrived in music class and art class. What was I thinking when I wanted to follow Sterling to college at 18? No wonder he wanted to break up with me then. He knew I wasn’t the smart type. They probably had plenty more in common. Plus they’d be working together all the time and who knew what would happen when they spent a lot of time together.

  When I expressed all this to Mirabelle she gave me a quizzical look.

  “That’s funny,” she said dryly. “I can’t believe you’re actually jealous. You’re one of the most popular singers right now. Your face is on more covers of magazines than mine is in the picture frames at my house. Men are practically drooling over you. Not to mention there are two very hot men fighting over you right now, and one happens to be the hottest movie star of our time. Do you know how pretty you are?”

  I shook my head. “That’s just makeup. And some designer clothes and a gay guy who’s really good with a hairbrush.”

  “You’re just crazy.” Mirabelle shook her head. “You write your own songs and your albums have sold millions. For God’s sake, no wonder the lady detective slammed the door in your face. Now that I think about it, I’d slam a door in your face too.”

  That didn’t cheer me up. I was still sullen, even with the cupcake all gone.

  “When you were with Nick, he was probably working morning to night with hot actresses, right?”

  “Right,” I mumbled.

  “And he didn’t cheat on you. He wants to marry you.”

  “You’re right.” I nodded, trying to convince myself. “It’s just a bunch of silly fears. But…she wore a pantsuit, and has a badge and a gun and everything.”

  “So?”

  “She’s a real detective,” I said. “I’m just some silly wannabe. I don’t even know how to use a gun.”

  “Look, you solved, what, two murder cases now? You’re intuitive and have a knack for this kind of thing. Intuition can come in handy more than logic sometimes, right?”

  “I suppose,” I said. “I just want to help on this case, but she’s shutting me out. I guess she’s just being professional.”

  “If you can’t work with Sterling, why not do it on your own? You’re wasting time stuffing yourself with my baked goods, even if they are the best in town.”

  “Why are you always right?” I sighed and smiled. Mirabelle’s pep talk and a cupcake could do wonders for your spirit. “Those kids have to be found. I hope they’re all right. I met them, and they’re lovely. Sterling and that Sandra might be going in one direction, but they don’t have everyone covered.” I thought about the case a bit more. “It could be someone closer than they think. Once I read about this kidnapping case in Connecticut where a little boy got kidnapped. It turned out that it was the gardener who was fired over some dead geraniums and he wanted to get revenge on the parents.”

  “And what happened?” asked Mirabelle. “Was the boy okay?”

  “Unfortunately he locked the boy in a car trunk for too long. Since it was a particularly hot summer, the trunk was overheated and the boy died.”

  “Wow. I hope the guy got what he deserved.”

  “Two life sentences,” I said. “The thing is, I’m not sure if this kidnapping is about money. The ransom note didn’t say anything about money. It was just sort of…cruel.�
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  I told Mirabelle what the note said. The handwriting on the note was scrawled by someone who wanted to disguise their writing. It looked like it had been written with the left hand so that it would be hard to analyze.

  “I wonder what the motive is,” Mirabelle said. “It does sounds like someone wants to torture the parents.”

  “Exactly,” I said. “Whoever it is wants the mayor or his wife to suffer. Or both, but who would go out of their way to be this cruel? The dairy farmer is out. Plus, when I did speak to him, it sounded like he genuinely cared for Eleanor, so I don’t think he would do this to her, even if he wanted to get back at the mayor.”

  “I don’t even think the mayor’s all that rich,” said Mirabelle. “He’s only a small town mayor. He may live in a better house now, but he used to live in a house just a big as ours a few years ago.”

  “Right, which is why I do think this crime is more personal. But who would really want to hurt him? It could be the money laundering people, I suppose. But if it’s them, Sterling’s team would surely dig up something. But I can’t ask him because I don’t want to get him in trouble.”

  “Was it him?” Mirabelle asked softly. “Did you choose Sterling?”

  I hesitated in answering, but I was dying to tell someone. “Yes. I thought about it long and hard. I choose Sterling.”

  Mirabelle grinned. “I knew it.”

  “He was always the one who got away. I do love Nick, I really do. Heck, once I was madly obsessed with him. But my life wasn’t going in the direction I wanted with him. I’m not sure that he would cut back on the work and travel if we did marry. He’s just too in demand. What if he falls back into his old patterns? Meanwhile, Sterling’s always been a rock. I need that kind of security right now.”

  “It’s hard to forget your first love.” Mirabelle nodded in sympathy.

  “Right. I’ve always wondered, ‘what if’?”

  I looked at Mirabelle’s huge baby bump.

  “I mean, I’m not sure if I’m quite ready for kids yet, but I’d like the option. Soon.”

  “I hear you,” said Mirabelle. “But sometimes I envy you and your life. You get to travel around, meet all these interesting people. And what do I get to do?”

  “Eat chocolate and drink coffee all day,” I teased. “What torture.”

  “So you want to quit your celebrity lifestyle and come back here?”

  “No. I can’t stop singing. I’ll just have to slow down my career. I’ve already accomplished what I wanted. I’ll just have to keep challenging myself musically. But I can do that here too. I can buy a house and build my own studio. Why not? Sure, I’ll have to tour and promote, but that’s only sometimes. It’s not going to kill me if I appear on less covers of magazines.”

  “But what if Nick wants that too? Buying a house and settling down?”

  “He said he wants his career to slow down,” I said. “But I don’t know. I feel like Sterling is a more sensible choice.”

  “Which one is better in bed?” Mirabelle smiled slyly.

  “Mirabelle!” I exclaimed. “I’m not going to talk about that with you.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Once I picked myself up from my moment of self-pity, I decided to pay Eleanor Champ a visit at her house. If Sandra didn’t want me on the case, I would go around her. It wasn’t hard to arrange a meeting to see Eleanor because she was a big fan of mine. We had talked quite a bit after the Emma Wild Day ceremony, and we got on really well.

  I took a taxi to the Champ estate. The housekeeper opened the door. She was a short stout lady wearing a grey apron that matched her knotty hair. When she saw me, she narrowed her eyes, all the wrinkles crinkling on her face like a road map.

  “I’m here to see Mrs. Champ?”

  “Who’s inquiring?” she asked sharply.

  “Emma Wild,” I said. “I’m a friend.”

  “Stay here.” She closed the door in my face.

  What was with the doors slamming in my face today? It reminded me of the early days of my career when I used to visit record companies with my demo.

  I heard her taking her sweet time trudging up the stairs while I waited outside in the winter cold. By the time I wondered if I was getting frostbites, the door opened, and the sour housekeeper appeared once again.

  “She’s upstairs,” she barked. “First room to your left.”

  “Okay,” I said. “Thanks.”

  I walked up quickly, eager to get away from her.

  Eleanor was sitting in a library room looking perfectly composed and beautiful. She wore a baby blue sweater, a knee-length corduroy skirt and tan leather boots. With her immaculate ivory skin and blonde hair, she looked very well kept for someone in her early 50’s. All the walls were lined with books. Sunlight streamed from the window behind her, lighting her from behind and giving her a golden aura. She was drinking her tea when she saw me, and had I not known better I would’ve thought that she was just enjoying a quiet morning to herself.

  “Ah, Emma.”

  She stood up to greet me, but I signalled that it was okay for her to sit. I closed the door behind me, and sat in the chair next to her.

  “Would you like some tea?” She gestured the empty cup and saucer on the tea tray next to the pot.

  Her lips were smiling, but her eyes weren’t. They were red, probably from hours of crying last night and this morning.

  “I’ll help myself,” I said. “How are you holding up?”

  For a second, Eleanor couldn’t speak. Then I noticed her lower lip quivering before she pressed her lips together. She was trying not to cry.

  “I trust the police is doing all they can,” she finally said.

  “Yes,” I agreed.

  I sure hoped Sterling and his new partner were getting somewhere.

  “I just don’t know what this person would want,” she said. “They’re not asking for money. Yet.”

  Her eyes turned red and it wasn’t long before tears began dripping. She sobbed and I put my arm around her shoulders.

  “They’ll turn up,” I said, trying to sound convincing.

  “I’m such a bad mother,” she said. “Maybe this is God punishing me.”

  “That’s not true. I’ve seen you with your kids and you’re a great mother. Those kids love you.”

  She continued to sob and I passed her a napkin from the tea tray.

  “Whoever took them is out to get me for all that I’ve done. I’m a terrible wife and a terrible mother.”

  I didn’t know whether to bring it up, but now it felt appropriate.

  “Eleanor, you can’t torture yourself like this. I know about your…affair.”

  Her blue eyes grew wide. “You know?”

  I nodded. “With Edward Herman, the dairy farmer, yes.”

  She buried her face in the napkin and made a sound that was between a laugh and a cry.

  “How humiliating,” she said. “Does the whole town know?”

  “No. Not at all. I only know because I was questioning him for a murder case. Remember the woman who owned the inn? Edward used to date her.”