Peppermint Mocha Killer

by Summer Prescott

  Friendship. Comfortable. Izzy’s stomach dropped. It sounded like what Spencer actually wanted was a dog. When she felt that she had swallowed the lump in her throat and could finally speak, she mustered what she hoped was a convincing smile and nodded.

  “Of course. That only makes sense,” she agreed bravely. “But, do you think that there’s any chance, like maybe in the future, that…” she started to ask, but he stopped her by reaching out to touch her cheek. She hadn’t realized that a single tear had tracked its way down and dripped from her jawline.

  “Neither of us knows what the future may bring, Izzy,” he gazed into her lovely hazel eyes. “But for now, let’s not complicate things. Let’s just enjoy each other’s company and give ourselves some time to figure things out.”

  “But, I already know…” she began to protest.

  “But I don’t,” was his somber reply. “Please, Izzy. Can we commit to being friends?”

  She nodded, numb. She wanted so much more from the amazing man in front of her, and had been kicking herself for weeks for hurting him one time too many.

  “Good,” he smiled. “Should we get back to float building?” he asked, not realizing that her very soul cried out for him.

  “Good idea,” she stood and turned to head back to the inn.

  “Hey,” he caught her hand to slow her progress. She turned and faced him, eyes wide.

  “Yes?”

  He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it lightly. “Thanks for understanding.”

  “You’re welcome,” she stared at him.

  He released her hand and they walked silently up the beach.

  CHAPTER THREE

  * * *

  “Oh Chas, it’s so beautiful!” Missy clasped her hands under her chin, gazing at the sparkling winter wonderland float that was being pulled behind the inn’s utility van. “I can’t believe you were able to get a snow machine.”

  Chas had made some calls and found a “snow” machine that filled the air above the float with flakes.

  “Makes it look more authentic, don’t you think?” he asked.

  “It really does,” his wife nodded with approval.

  “What are you going to do when you win the float contest?” he teased.

  “Put the trophy in the front hall of the inn and donate the money to the children’s wing of the hospital,” was the decisive reply.

  “That’s my girl,” the detective wrapped his wife up in a warm embrace, kissing the blonde curls on top of her head. “Where’s our Ice Princess?” he asked, glancing at his watch.

  “She should be here any minute,” Missy looked around the staging area for the floats, but didn’t see anything that looked remotely like a beautiful woman in a ball gown made of “ice.” Izzy had seemed to be acting a bit strangely the past couple of days, staring into space and seeming remote. She hoped that everything was okay with the somewhat reclusive author.

  “Ah, there she is,” Chas remarked, pointing to where a stone-faced Izzy was scurrying toward them, her delicate skirt held up carefully in her hands, a large bag of candy swinging from her wrist.

  “I was not cut out to be a princess,” she sighed when she got close enough for them to hear her. “Nothing has gone right this morning, and I think one of my false eyelashes may have fallen off in the parking lot,” she batted her eyes rapidly, straining to see if she could detect missing lashes.

  “Nope, they’re all still there,” Missy assured her with a giggle. “You look beautiful, and you’re going to be just fine.”

  “Mommy, Mommy, look, it’s a real life princess!” a tow-headed little girl of about five exclaimed, dragging her rather haggard-looking mother over to where Izzy stood.

  The little girl’s eyes shone with delight, and she reached toward Izzy’s skirt, not quite daring to touch the gossamer folds. “You’re beautiful,” she breathed, clearly in awe.

  Izzy beamed down at the tot. “Why, thank you. I think you’re beautiful, and I have something for you,” she reached into the large recyclable grocery bag that she was carrying and pulled out a glossy red and white striped candy cane. The child’s eyes grew big as saucers and she thanked Izzy profusely. The author waved as the tired mother thanked her and gently pulled her daughter away. The formerly reluctant young woman turned back to Missy and Chas in a decidedly different mood.

  “Okay,” she grinned. “I can do this.”

  “You’ll be great,” Missy hugged her. “We’ll be right before the main float in the lineup, the one with Santa on it. There are extra bags of candy in the igloo if you need them, and after the float is parked at the end of the parade, you can walk back up to the judging area with Spencer. He’ll be dressed as a reindeer and will be driving the van in front of the float.”

  “Judging area?” Izzy frowned.

  “There’s a contest for the best float, and all of the float riders have to come and stand in front of the judges’ stage so that they can be seen during the voting,” Chas explained, suppressing a grin. “My wife is under the impression that we might win, so she’s counting on you to charm the judges.”

  “Oh great, no pressure,” Izzy muttered, unwrapping a piece of candy that she’d fished out of her bag, and popping it into her mouth.

  A sudden fracas in a nearby group of parade float participants broke out, catching Chas’s immediate attention. As voices raised to a shout, he broke away and trotted over to see what the fuss was all about.

  “The contest was rigged,” an old, bearded man in overalls and a button-down shirt shouted at the star of the entire parade, Santa Claus.

  “Nonsense, it was a fair competition and you lost. Now, for the sake of the children, you need to just accept that and move on,” Santa counseled, glancing about to see if any children were in the area.

  “What’s going on here?” Chas stepped into the fray, and both parties, recognizing the detective, backed off a bit. “Arthur?” he asked Santa.

  Arthur Beringer, who was playing Santa for the parade this year, was a local businessman who was known for his shrewd dealings and cutthroat tactics, but he also gave money and time to various charities around town, so many of Calgon’s leading citizens chose to overlook his sometimes less than admirable business practices.

  “This yokel competed against me for the role of Santa this year. I won fair and square and he doesn’t want to accept it,” Arthur explained, glaring at the other man.

  “Seth? Is that what this is about?” the detective asked the losing Santa.

  Seth Samuels, a former school teacher, who now made his living giving private piano lessons to many of Calgon’s school children, had been Arthur’s toughest rival in the annual contest which was held to see who would act as Santa in the parade, as well as taking center court in the mall. The parade and mall Santa received a relatively sizable cash prize, which most of the Santas in the past had donated to charity.

  “He cheated, Detective,” Seth ground out with contempt. “Stacked the deck by offering sweet deals to some of the judges on the committee. It isn’t right. It just isn’t right,” He folded his arms, indignant.

  “Look, Seth,” Chas put up a hand, letting the piano teacher know that he meant business. “If there’s anything inappropriate that happened during the competition, there are ways to address that after the parade. Right now, all we need to be concerned about are the kids of Calgon, and I don’t know about you, but I don’t want any of them to see their piano teacher yelling at Santa Claus, do you?” he challenged.

  “No, but it isn’t right. This foul human being thinks that he can manipulate everyone into doing his bidding, and he’s usually right. It’s disgusting,” Seth shook his head.

  “You’re just sore because you want the money,” Arthur sniffed with disdain. “Business bad these days?” he taunted, maintaining a smile in case there were any children who could see him.

  “Gentlemen, this discussion is tabled, right now. Are we quite clear on that?” Chas directed sternly. “You both kno
w better. Arthur get up in your sleigh and stay there, Seth, go find a place in the shade and keep your thoughts to yourself for the moment, got it?” he raised his eyebrows, challenging them to dare to disagree.

  “Fine by me,” Arthur rolled his eyes, turned his back, and climbed up into his air-conditioned sleigh.

  “This isn’t the end of it. Not by a long shot,” were Seth’s parting words as he stalked off toward a spot on the curb on Main Street.

  Chas chuckled to himself and shook his head, making his way back to Missy after he made certain that the Santa rivals were staying away from each other. Missy was supposed to sit with him, Kel and Echo to watch the parade, but, knowing how excited she was, he suggested that she accompany Spencer in the van, tossing candy to the children along the sides of the route.

  “Are you sure?” she asked, eyes sparkling.

  “Of course I am. Go be Santa’s elf, have fun,” her loving husband insisted.

  “You’re the best,” she kissed him quickly and made her way to the float, where Spencer was helping Izzy to get settled on her throne.

  “How are we doing?” she asked, face aglow with holiday cheer.

  “This is actually really comfortable,” Izzy remarked, sitting gracefully in her sparkling throne of “ice.”

  “Spencer made sure of that. The entire thing is cushioned for your comfort, Princess,” she teased.

  “That was nice, thank you,” Izzy glanced up at the Marine, her lower lip caught between her teeth.

  “It’s a long ride. I didn’t want you to be uncomfortable,” he smiled down at her. “Ready to roll?”

  “Ready as I’ll ever be,” she admitted, glancing down into the massive bag of candy beside her throne. It had been disguised as a giant snowball.

  “I’ll start the snow machine once we get to the parade route,” he informed her. “The parasol above the throne should prevent the “snow” from getting in your hair.”

  “Great. I’ll just be back here munching on candy,” was the mischievous reply.

  “Save some for the kids,” Missy admonished with a laugh.

  Spencer slipped into a full-body reindeer costume, which left his face uncovered so that he could drive, and pulled the hood with antlers attached up onto his head. Surprised, Izzy burst into laughter at seeing the handsome Marine looking very much like Rudolph. He grinned, shrugged, and climbed into the van, with a chuckling Missy getting into the passenger side. Smoothly, without the slightest lurch, the van pulled into line behind the other floats, and Izzy took a deep breath, preparing to be the center of attention, as dozens of little hands waved at her from curbs and lawn chairs and porches.

  Spencer flipped a switch inside the cab of the van and it started snowing around the Ice Princess. Caught in the spell of holiday cheer and her lovely surroundings, Izzy forgot about being self-conscious, and waved cheerily to the children of Calgon, blowing kisses and tossing candies. The sun was out, making the float sparkle like a diamond, and the air was perfectly comfortable as they rode along the route. Izzy heard Santa’s jingle bells from the float behind her, and listened to the sounds of the marching band that was several floats ahead of her, thinking that this was indeed a wonderful way to ring in the season.

  In the cab of the van, Missy was thinking similar thoughts. She too, waved and tossed candies from the window of the van, receiving shouts of appreciation and smiles from the children who lined the route. She bent down for a moment to grab another fistful of candy, and something caught her eye just as she glanced out the window again. She blinked twice, thinking that she was seeing things, then stared hard and realized that she recognized someone very special in the crowd watching the parade. Waving like crazy, she saw that her special friend had noticed her as well, and was blowing kisses.

  “I’ll find you after the parade,” she called out the window, gratified to see a nod of acknowledgment, along with an enthusiastic thumbs up.

  After all the long hours spent preparing the parade float – Missy had been up into the wee hours of the night tweaking and fluffing and fixing – the parade itself went by in a flash, and Missy, Spencer and Izzy were making their way toward the judges’ stand in no time.

  Traditionally, the judges would make their decision for first through third place awards, and Santa himself would announce the Grand Prize winner. Santa’s float was the same every year, and was maintained by the parade committee, rendering it ineligible to compete. After the awards were announced, there would be an ice cream social in the town square, to which Missy had donated dozens upon dozens of her Peppermint Mocha cupcakes. Spencer had disappeared during the judges’ deliberations, fearing that he’d ruin the borrowed reindeer costume with perspiration stains if he didn’t take it off, and quickly. He came back, appropriately dressed in shorts and a t-shirt, before the results were announced, standing beside a beaming Missy and a contented Izzy, who seemed to be enjoying the role of princess now that there were adoring children present.

  The third place, second place, and first place winners were announced, with Missy twisting her hands together to keep from biting her nails in anticipation.

  “And now, ladies and gentlemen,” the mayor declared, smiling broadly at the audience. “Santa Claus himself will announce the Grand Prize winner.”

  He looked to his left, and moved his head, trying to see where Santa was. A uniformed police officer came trotting over to the judges’ stand and whispered something in the mayor’s ear. Missy noted that a flicker of something unpleasant crossed the mayor’s features briefly before he recovered his smile and nodded.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, we’re going to do things a bit differently this year. If everyone will please head on over to the town square, we’ll be announcing the Grand Prize winner after we’ve all had some ice cream and listened to the Junior High school choir,” he explained, ignoring the puzzled looks from parade participants. “Everyone please head over to the town square,” the now-sweating man directed with a pasted on smile.

  As the crowd milled toward the town square, the mayor made a beeline for Missy.

  “Melissa, where is Detective Beckett?” he asked, a strange urgency in his voice.

  “He’s over there, in front of the Fire Station,” she pointed, and he took off, leaving a very confused Missy staring after him.

  “Want me to go find out what’s going on?” Spencer asked, jaw set, sensing trouble.

  “Yes, please,” she nodded, watching as the mayor strode quickly toward Chas.

  “Go toward the town square,” the Marine directed, going into protective mode. “It’s obviously safe there,” he commented, jogging toward Chas and the mayor.

  Missy took Izzy’s arm so that they wouldn’t get separated and fell in step with the parade-watching crowd. Unable to eat, Missy and Izzy sat down in the shade of a gazebo, not saying much, each consumed with their own thoughts.

  “It could be nothing,” Izzy suggested, her words sounding lame, even to her own ears.

  “Honey, Chas is a homicide detective. When the mayor asks for him and changes the format of a major town event on the fly…something happened. Probably something big,” she sighed.

  “Merry Christmas, Miss Melissa,” Missy heard a soft, familiar voice, and turned her head to see Destiny Crandall, a delightfully precocious pre-teen whom she’d encountered while solving a murder in LaChance, Louisiana, standing with her parents, decked out in brilliant red and green.

  “Destiny! I knew I saw you out there on the parade route!” Missy exclaimed, jumping up to give the lovely girl a hug. “Mr. and Mrs. Crandall, it’s good to see you again,” she greeted Destiny’s parents. “What brings y’all to Calgon?”

  “Well, you told me about your inn when we were in Louisiana, and we needed a warm place to spend the holidays, so we thought it’d be a good idea to come down and look you up.”

  Destiny’s family lived in an RV and traveled all over the country. Her dad, Evan wrote travel articles and science fiction novels which were quite p
opular, enabling him to provide well for his family while they were on the road.

  “Well, I’m so glad that you did,” Missy grinned. “Are you going to be around until Christmas?”

  “We may be,” Dolores, Destiny’s mother replied. “But we don’t want to impose at all. We just wanted to see you and say hello while we’re here.”

  “Well, if you’re going to be around, I want y’all to come to my little Christmas get-together at the inn.”

  “Really?” Destiny’s eyes sparkled. “Can we, Mom?” she asked, giving her parents a pleading glance.

  “We’ll see, sweetheart,” her dad, Evan, replied.

  They chatted with Missy for a few minutes, and she introduced them to Izzy, whom Evan was honored to meet, as he was a great admirer of her work. It was a very pleasant visit, marred only when Missy received a sobering text from Chas.

  There’s been a murder. Spencer has been brought in for questioning. Saw Echo and Kel heading to the car; it looked like Echo was in pain. I’ll be home late. Will keep you updated.

  “Destiny, Mr. and Mrs. Crandall, it’s been so great seeing y’all again, and I want you to come by for our Christmas party, but something’s come up and I’ve gotta run. Won’t you excuse me?” Missy said, taking Izzy’s arm and pulling her toward the parking lot.

  “Bye,” Destiny waved, a frown creasing her smooth brow. “I wonder what bad news she got,” she murmured.

  “How do you know she got bad news?” Dolores Crandall asked.

  “Just something in her eyes, Mama.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  * * *

  Detective Chas Beckett’s face was grim as he stood within the roped off area of the crime scene, waiting for the coroner, Timothy Eckels, and his spunky assistant Fiona to show up. Violent crime was especially disturbing at this time of year, and the sight of a Santa Clause covered in blood was particularly gruesome. Someone had brutally murdered Arthur Beringer before he could make it to the judges’ stand to announce the winner of the parade float contest, and had stashed his body inside Missy’s igloo, his blood staining the fake snow a deep crimson and pooling beneath the flatbed.