The Case of the Missing Elf: a Melanie Hart Mystery (Melanie Hart Cozy Mysteries Book 2)

by Anna Drake

  He turned and beamed and extended a hand toward our guest. “Hugh, so glad you could join us.”

  I watched the two men exchange greetings. Internally, I was totally confused. I was already dating a man named Josh. He was an accountant for a manufacturing firm headquartered in a Chicago suburb. He often came down to spend his weekends here with me. I’d thought Dad had approved our relationship, so that he was again throwing Jennings at me left me puzzled.

  I found a vase, stashed the flowers inside it, and returned my attention to the men. “So,” I rubbed my hands together, “should I pour the wine?”

  “I opened a bottle to breathe earlier,” Dad said, inclining his head toward the kitchen island. A bottle of Chardonnay and three wine glasses stood waiting for me to take advantage of them. So I did.

  I distributed the filled glasses. We toasted the day.

  “Shall we retire to the living room?” Dad asked. “Everything’s well in hand in here.”

  We set off down the hallway, Taffy and me bringing up the rear.

  “What’s the latest on this murder?” Hugh asked Father.

  “You’ll have to talk to Melanie about it. She’s covering the investigation for the newspaper.”

  “Indeed?” Hugh turned his head back toward me and raised his glass like my doing so was some major accomplishment rather than a routine part of my job.

  Thank you so very much, I thought. Then, I reminded myself that Dad had kept the first murder story that came my way for himself. And that memory helped put Hugh’s toast in perspective.

  “So what is the latest news on that front?” Dad asked me.

  “I should get an update from Gossford tomorrow. But I was out this morning interviewing a friend of Scroggins.”

  “Who was that?” Dad asked. Having reached the living room, he settled into his favorite chair.

  Hugh took the couch. I opted for an armchair near the fire. If Dad thought I would plant myself beside Hugh on the couch, Dad could just think again. Our charade wasn’t worth pushing that far. Someday one of us was going to get married or engaged. There was little point to letting Dad’s hopes for our union continue much longer..

  “His name is Lester Porter,” I explained. “He’s a bit of a roustabout, I guess, but he was more than willing to give me some background information on Scroggins.”

  “That’s good,” Father said.

  “Yes, it was kind of him,” I answered, but said nothing more.

  Jennings leaned forward. “Who was this Scroggins anyway?”

  I swallowed the small sip of wine I’d just taken. “His major claim to fame was his annual portrayal of an elf in Santa’s cabin. He grew up here. Left for a while, then returned to Cloverton after his business failed. His major claim to fame, locally at least, was his portrayal of the elf in Santa’s Cabin.”

  Hugh laughed. “Guess I must have missed that one, then.”

  “His official duties included keeping the children in line and steering them to their sessions with Santa.”

  Hugh and I continued to play nice through drinks and our dinner of roast chicken and roasted winter vegetables. But by the end of the meal, the act was beginning to wear thin on me. And by the time we reached dessert, I’d decided I need to speak up and rid Dad of his expectations for Hugh and me.

  I couldn’t understand how Father could be so dense. I’d been dating Josh for months now and made no secret of how well I liked him. Why was he still pushing Hugh at me?

  Maybe, I thought, Dad’s concern was that Hugh lived here in Cloverton while Josh didn’t. On some level, I suspected Dad worried that I might someday move away from our little town.

  “Really,” Dad said after closing the door on Hugh’s departing back, “I think that went very well, don’t you?”

  “It did. Just as long as you realize how the land lays.”

  Dad stopped short and turned to face me. “And how is that, Dear?”

  “Almost a hundred percent in favor of Josh Devon,” I said.

  Dad’s face darkened. “It’s been weeks since that man has made an appearance here. I thought perhaps you two had gone your separate ways.”

  “I think, if that would have happened, you’d have noticed.”

  “How’s that?”

  “I would have been bumming around here in tears for months.”

  “It’s that serious then?”

  “For me, yes.”

  “How does he feel?”

  “From what he says, I’d say the same.”

  “So you see yourself moving up near Chicago in the future?”

  I walked up and wrapped my arms around my father and drew him to me in a tight hug. “Not a chance,” I said, rubbing his back and gazing over his shoulder. “I’m taking over the newspaper when you retire, Dad. Nothing’s changed. You can’t chase me off that easily.”

  “Then what about Josh and his job?” Dad asked as we broke apart.

  “Don’t worry yourself about that. If it’s meant for us to be together, we’ll find a way to work it out. But the one thing you can count as certain is that I’m not leaving Cloverton.

  ~~~

  That night, Ginger and I got together at her house as planned. The temperature outdoors had dropped for most of the afternoon and now was headed down close to zero. Could that lovely, warm, autumn-like day have been with us as recently as just Friday?” But that was Illinois, where the weather was about as constant as the wind.

  I scurried inside Ginger’s house and shoved the door closed behind me.

  “Nasty out there?” my host asked, taking my scarf and gloves and coat from me and slipping them into the closet.

  “You don’t want to know.”

  “It wasn’t all that long ago I was out there myself. And I’m delighted to be tucked up at home tonight.”

  “How did the afternoon session go at the cabin?” I asked.

  “Nary a soul ventured out. I couldn’t blame them. Who wants to stroll from store to store on outdoor sidewalks at these temperatures?” Ginger ushered me to the kitchen. “I’ve made hot chocolate. I thought we could switch to coffee later, but first I figured a little chocolate and milk laced with sugar might help chase the winter blues away.”

  “Works for me, thank you.” I rubbed my hands together to warm them. Even wearing gloves, the drive over in a cold car had robbed my fingers of most of their warmth. That was one of the downsides to living in a small town. Nothing was far enough away for the car to have time to warm up before reaching my destination.

  I sat myself at the kitchen table, which had been set with napkins and a platter of chocolate chip cookies.

  “Thank you for agreeing to host this session. I can’t let Dad catch wind that we’re back at chasing down killers again.”

  “Like I’ve told you, you need to move into your own place.”

  “Right. Maybe someday.”

  “I know where there’s an empty apartment. The rent’s probably not too expensive, either.”

  “That’s kind of you,” I said. Ginger rented out rooms on the second floor of her beauty shop which was housed in an old, Victorian house she’d inherited from her parents. Obviously, she was suggesting that I join the members of the staff who lodged there when they needed a place to land.

  Ginger cast me a disbelieving glance. “Sugar, I’m not offering you a room over my shop. That’s exclusively reserved for my employees. No, I was thinking about Wendy’s carriage house.”

  I glanced up, alarmed. “Where I just stumbled onto a dead body? You can’t be serious.”

  “Hey, I bet it’s a lovely place.”

  “It is,” I answered with regret.

  Other than leaving Dad home alone, the apartment would fulfill my every dream. It was the perfect size. The landlady was charming. The conversion was stylishly done. The only problem was that every time I closed my eyes in the bedroom, I’d see Scroggins lying there. Well, that plus the fact that I can’t cook, and I was rather fond of eating.

 
Across the room, Ginger poured hot chocolate into an ornate Christmas mug. “You should talk to Wendy. I bet she’d give you an excellent deal.” She grabbed a second mug and poured again.

  Ginger meant well. But she’d never yet met up with a corpse. A part of me almost wished she would so she’d have a better idea of how distasteful an experience it was. Then, I took the wish back. Ginger didn’t deserve that bad a fate. Come to think of it, neither did I.

  “So,” I asked, preferring to sidestep the issue for now, “did any of the board members know about last year’s bad blood between Sparks and Scroggins?”

  Ginger chuckled as she delivered our hot chocolate to the table.. “Those two names sound like someone’s bad idea of a law firm.”

  “Funny.”

  Ginger sobered. “Still, Sparks is a good guy.”

  “Then, what was the row about?”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t want to push too hard. Mostly, I filled the board members in on Scroggins’ replacement and assured them that I had everything at the cabin well in hand. I didn’t even manage to reach the last person until a little before you showed up.”

  “So you failed to work the Sparks conflict into your conversation?”

  “Something like that, thought I’m not sure I’d call that a failure, thank you very much.”

  I picked up my steaming mug of chocolate. The drink smelled delicious. Maybe it would drown my disappointment with Ginger and her refusal to unearth info on Sparks and his disagreement last year with Scroggins.

  “Thank you,” I said of the chocolate. “I know this will cheer me up. Is this also a sign that the board approved Roger’s offer to provide free hot chocolate at the cabin?”

  Ginger moaned. “They did. They agreed to it. Can you believe it?”

  “I’d think you’d be pleased. Surely your visitors to the cabin will welcome the addition.”

  “No doubt they will. I only hope it’s not Roger’s way of worming himself further into my life.”

  “I doubt that was his purpose. He’s a businessman, just like you. I suspect he’s eager to be viewed well by his fellow cohorts, that’s all.”

  “You don’t know him well enough to be sure of that.”

  “No, I don’t. And you don’t know him well enough to contradict me, either.”

  “I know enough to consider him a pest.”

  “Well, I think he’s a handsome, considerate, and highly available man.”

  “Could we get back to discussing the murder, please. That is what was originally listed on the agenda for tonight’s session.”

  “Sure, but first I have an update from Larkin.”

  “Do tell.”

  “He didn’t know that Santa was seriously fond of his gin.”

  A look of puzzlement slipped over Ginger’s face. “That does surprise me.”

  “Yeah, imagine that. For once, on one subject, we’re better informed than he is.”

  “Huh, but did you pick up anything from him to help us solve the murder?”

  “Unfortunately, no. But he thought Agnes would work out as the elf. He sounded a little iffy about her youngest son, but said there was nothing against him yet.” I paused to take a sip of the chocolate. Then, I filled Ginger in on what Porter had said about Scroggins.

  “No kidding?” Ginger asked at the conclusion of my update. “Scroggins wanted to set up a business in the old warehouse?”

  “According to Porter, yes.”

  “Well, first of all, I think it’s too late to launch a successful antiques and craft mall. That’s a bit of a deflated market right now. At least according to the latest business reports.”

  “I doubt Scroggins took the time to study the market. What I’m wondering, though, is where he thought the extra money would come from? I don’t suppose his salary at Santa’s Cabin would provide much in the way of ready cash. Yet Porter insisted money was never a problem.”

  Ginger shook her head. “What Scroggins earned from the cabin would hardly be enough money to buy a decent flat screen TV, let alone a warehouse.”

  “Then what was he counting on to bring in the extra cash?”

  “Blackmail?”

  Dang. Leave it to Ginger to be creative. Blackmail had never entered my mind.

  “That could explain it,” I suppose. “Unless he expected to come into an inheritance.”

  Our eyes grew large. “Wendy?” we said in unison.

  “She’s in perfect health,” I protested.

  “You know that, how?”

  “I saw her Friday night. She was fine.”

  “That doesn’t rule anything out. Lisa Clark’s aunt was fine one day and dead the next.”

  “Yes, but if Scroggins was counting on an inheritance from her, he would have had to have known she was about to die.”

  “Maybe Wendy is sicker than she looks.”

  “I hope not.”

  Ginger’s face softened. “You really like the gal, don’t you?”

  “Yes, she’s just the kind of woman I’d have wanted for a grandmother.”

  “All the more reason you should move into that vacant apartment of hers.”

  “It isn’t vacant. It’s still full of Scroggins’ things and the door to the place is barred with crime scene tape.”

  “That will come down.”

  “Eventually.”

  “Exactly.”

  Drats. Ginger was nothing if not persistent.

  ~~~

  When I reached home that night, Dad was in his armchair, the Herald Times gripped tightly in his hands. Taffy lay on Dad’s lap. As I entered the living room, she looked up at me and yawned. That pretty much summed up Taffy’s reaction to me almost all the time. Her loyalties lay firmly with the man upon whose lap she reclined.

  “Anything worthy in the paper?” I asked.

  “Their story on Scroggins’ murder was decent,” Dad said.

  “I wouldn’t expect it to be otherwise..”

  Dad grunted. “Have you touched base with Gossford recently?”

  “Not since he dropped by the offices yesterday.”

  “Did he give you many details about the killing?”

  “Just that poisoning angle I told you about.”

  Father chuckled. “The Times doesn’t have that little tidbit yet.”

  “No they wouldn’t. Gossford said he wanted to keep that under wraps until it’s confirmed by lab reports. I’ll have to check with him to see if it’s okay to use that information.”

  “Maybe the timing will benefit us, and the report will come in too late to meet the Times’ deadline.”

  “I hope so.”

  Father gave the paper a shake. It was frustrating sometimes, being the little guy on the block. And with only publishing three days a week, the Times often beat us to large stories. We tried to offset that advantage by writing more in depth, personal stories.

  Dad lowered the paper and glanced up at me. “What sent you out on a night like this?”

  “I wanted to check in with Ginger. See if she thought her replacement for Scroggins would work out.”

  “You could have called. There was no need to go over there.”

  “You didn’t see Ginger at the cabin. I wanted to be sure she’d fully recovered.”

  ‘What was the problem?”

  “If I said Ginger’s allergic to children, would you buy the story?

  Dad laughed. “Yes, from what I know of her, I can’t imagine her thriving around little tykes..”

  I settled into a matching arm chair and pulled a book from a nearby table. Surreptitiously, I glanced over at my father and tried to imagine what his world would be like if I moved out.

  Mom had died in a car crash when I was about four. Since then Dad had been everything to me. But now that I’d reached adulthood, I couldn’t deny a desire to launch out on my own. I told Ginger it was my absent cooking skills that held me back. Actually, though, feeding myself was only part of the problem. Ultimately, I couldn’t bear the thought of le
aving Dad alone in this big house.

  “How’s the book?” Dad asked.

  “Great,” I replied.

  Eight

  The call came in at about three Monday morning. I rolled onto my side and grabbed the phone. “Hello?” I muttered in a voice still dripping with sleep.

  “Melanie, I’m so sorry for disturbing you, but I don’t know who else to call.”

  “Wendy?” I glanced at my bedside clock. “What’s happened?”

  “Someone’s broken in.”

  I raised myself up onto an elbow, “Into your place?”

  “No, at Barnaby’s apartment.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I saw what looked like the beam from a flashlight in the apartment window.”

  “You’ve called the police?”

  “Yes, they’re here now. But they won’t sit with me. Melanie,” her voice trembled, “I’m so scared.”

  “I’ll be right over.”

  I rose from bed and tossed on jeans and an old sweatshirt. Then, after leaving a note for Dad on the center island in the kitchen, I bundled myself up in my parka and headed for the garage. Less than five minutes later, I pulled up at Wendy’s house. Exiting the car, I dashed for her front door. Visiting a friend in her hour of need was one thing, but getting in out of this freezing cold weather carried its own urgency.

  I bounded up the porch steps and pounded on the door. “Wendy,” I called out, “it’s me.”

  In short order the door opened. I lunged inside the house.

  “Thank you for coming,” Wendy said. “You can’t imagine how much I appreciate this.”

  Nero sat off to one side, eyeing me with disdain.

  “Glad to help.” I peeled off my parka.

  “Come on into the kitchen. I’ve made coffee.”

  Once settled there, with coffee mugs in hand, I pressed Wendy for details of the break-in.

  “I wouldn’t have known a thing,” she said, “if Nero hadn’t wakened me. I found him sitting on my chest, making the most frightful sounds. I glanced at the clock, and that’s when, through my bedroom window, I saw a light flitting about in Barnaby’s apartment.”

  “And you called police?”

  “Right.”