Missing in Christmas River: A Christmas Cozy Mystery (Christmas River Cozy Book 9)

by Meg Muldoon

  Chapter 16

  The tall, muscular man stood outside on the sidewalk, cupping his hands around his face and peering in through the window with large cow-like eyes.

  I furrowed my brow.

  The front door was locked and the sign in the window was turned to “closed.” But obviously, the guy wasn’t taking either one of those messages too seriously.

  When he caught sight of me, he smiled a big, toothy grin and backed away from the door, waiting for me to open it.

  I hesitated, wondering if I should just ignore him. It was getting late, I didn’t recognize the man, and I had the sense that he could read just fine.

  I was about to turn around and go back into the kitchen, leaving the stranger where he was, but then I caught sight of Deputy Owen McHale walking on the sidewalk opposite the pie shop.

  I supposed it put my mind at ease, knowing that a deputy was nearby in case I needed him. So I revised my decision.

  As a rule of thumb, I didn’t like turning customers away.

  I unlocked the front door and stuck my head out.

  The man appeared to be in his late 40s. He looked like the type who considered the gym his temple – but not in a good way. His muscles bulged unnaturally beneath his clothes. He was bald with greying stubble on his chin, and his deep-set, almost-swollen eyes matched the rest of his large features. And I noticed that on one of his wrists, there was a rustic tattoo of a heart broken in half.

  He was dressed in a pair of khaki cargo shorts and a tight-fitting T-shirt that was a few sizes too small for him. The fabric was pulled so tight around his biceps, I didn’t know how it was still in one piece. Sausage casings left more wiggle room than the sleeves of that shirt.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, forcing a smile. “But I’m afraid we’re closed for the evening.”

  “Aw… really?” he said, obviously disappointed.

  I nodded.

  He let out a big sigh that reminded me of the way a fourth grade boy might act if you took away his recess.

  “But are you sure that you’re really closed for the night?” he said. “Absolutely certain? Because I just got into town and I’ve got this insane craving for pie and coffee. And your shop just looks like it could deliver exactly what I need.”

  I studied him for a long while.

  Generally, I didn’t like turning anybody away from my pie shop. Even if we were officially closed, if somebody showed up, I’d do my best to at least get them a cup of coffee.

  But I also had a good head on my shoulders. Which meant that I wasn’t going to let a strange man who was twice my size into the shop when I was the only one here.

  “I’m afraid we really are closed,” I said firmly.

  He clicked his tongue against the side of his mouth and looked away.

  “Aw, well, that’s a shame,” he said.

  “But if you want to come back tomorrow morning, we open at 7:30. I’d be happy to get you a slice of pie and coffee then. On the house, too.”

  He smiled slightly, the wrinkles around his eyes growing with the effort.

  “All right, sure. If I still got a craving for pie tomorrow, I’ll be here.”

  “Great,” I said, closing the door. “Have yourself a good night—”

  “Does a pie shop do good business in a town like this?” he asked abruptly.

  I stopped closing the door.

  “Sure,” I said, shrugging. “We do pretty decently.”

  “Do you have a lot of employees here?” he asked.

  “What makes you think I’m the owner?”

  He shook his head nonchalantly.

  “I just figured since you’re here late, and you seem to be the only one, then you must be the owner.”

  I hesitated before answering, sizing up the man for a long second.

  There was nothing that strange about his questions. But there was something in his tone that seemed odd to me, though I couldn’t explain why I felt that way.

  Maybe he was just an out-of-towner, and nothing more. Trying to make small talk.

  “Yes, I’ve got a few employees,” I said. “But I better close up my shop now, or I’ll never get home tonight.”

  He nodded, clearly catching my drift this time.

  “Okay,” he said. “But I’ll be back, sugar. You can count on that.”

  He winked at me then.

  I nodded and didn’t say anything more.

  I shut the door, locking it quickly.

  I stood there for a long moment, watching as the man in the tiny T-shirt walked down the street in the growing darkness.

  Then I went into the kitchen. I lured Chadwick and Huckleberry inside with some leftover pie, and then shut the back door, locking it up tight, too.

  Even in a town as small and charming as Christmas River, you could never be too careful.

  Chapter 17

  Between helping Tiana plan for her wedding, keeping up with demand at the pie shop, and helping Warren with his interview, my first week back home in Christmas River had been a hectic, tiring, and action-packed one.

  Which was why when Daniel surprised me at the shop one afternoon, saying it was time to ditch the rolling pin for a little fun, I promptly tossed my apron off and closed up the kitchen early without protest.

  I leaned against the smooth bark of a quaking aspen and watched as Daniel reached into the picnic basket, grabbing the bottle of white wine. He uncorked the already-opened bottle, and refilled my glass with the sweet stuff.

  For Daniel and me, a perfect date night wasn’t sitting in a fancy, uppity restaurant, poring over menus and overpriced food. Our idea of a good time usually had something to do with pristine mountain air, good wine or craft beer, and a tasty meal – preferably one that had been caught only a few moments earlier.

  Daniel went over to the small propane gas stove a few feet away and turned the knob. The flame made a whooshing noise as it caught. He leaned on his back heels, waiting for the frying pan sitting on the burner to heat up. The two fat trout – which I had just caught only minutes earlier – had been cleaned and gutted, and were now ready for some heat, a good helping of lemon juice, and a hefty amount of butter.

  It was the kind of meal that you just couldn’t find in a restaurant. And almost as though they sensed that, too, Huckleberry and Chadwick paced anxiously around our little campsite, stealing glances at the two fish filets and licking their chops when they thought we weren’t looking.

  I took a sip of the crisp and clean wine, and gazed out across Sparks Lake at the swollen orange sun of early evening. Tall, full reeds swayed in a soft breeze, while dragonflies skirted the lake, zipping around with purpose. A peaceful haze settled over everything and gave the whole landscape a dream-like quality.

  I picked up a small branch that was lying within reach, waved it to get the attention of the pooches, then chucked it into the lake. The pair momentarily forgot all about the fish filets and raced each other, reveling in the chase as they plunged into the chilly waters.

  Daniel laughed out loud at the two of them splashing around. But then, ever the attentive chef, he returned his attention back to our dinner.

  “I ought to take you gambling,” Daniel said to me, cutting off a big slice of butter and dropping it in the pan. “You’re on a hell of a lucky streak.”

  Huckleberry and Chadwick weren’t the only ones who had been competing tonight. As was usual whenever Daniel and I went fishing together, there had been a healthy dose of rivalry to see who could catch a fish first. Normally, Daniel always beat me. But tonight, I’d been lucky and got nibbles nearly as soon as I’d cast my line. I’d caught my second fish before Daniel even knew what hit him.

  “Call it luck if you want, Daniel Brightman,” I said. “The truth is, I’m twice the fisherman you are. And you know it, too.”

  He looked up from the pan at me, raising his eyebrows.

  “Is that so?”

  “Yep,” I said. “Warren always says fishing isn’t about luck. It’s abou
t skill.”

  “Yeah, well. That old man says a lot of things. Doesn’t make even half of them true.”

  I clicked my tongue against the roof of my mouth.

  I’d only been home a week, but it seemed that in that short amount of time, I’d been playing near-constant defense for my beloved grandfather.

  “Hey, now,” I said, following our familiar pattern of conversation. “You stop talking nonsense about Warren, you hear? That thing that Wes started saying about him at the Search & Rescue volunteer party? I know that was all your influence. And you know what, Daniel Brightman? It was totally not cool.”

  Daniel spread the pat of butter around the frying pan with a spatula and smiled to himself.

  “Look, darlin,’ I can’t help what Wes Dulany might or might not say.” he said.

  “Oh yes you can. The two of you have been thick as thieves all summer. And it’s no coincidence that he’s picked up this bad habit of undermining my grandpa.”

  It was all in good fun, and we both knew it. Daniel was crazy about Warren, just like I was.

  But still, we both played along.

  “Okay, okay,” Daniel said, raising his hands up. “You’re right. I take full responsibility for influencing Wes as to your grandpa’s nature.”

  “And?” I said, expectantly, raising my eyebrows and crossing my arms.

  “And... I apologize,” Daniel said. “I’ll stop undermining Warren in front of others.”

  He said that last part in a low sing-song tone that put a smile on my face.

  I watched as he transferred the trout filets to the pan. They made a mouthwatering crackling sound when the skin hit the butter.

  My stomach rumbled something fierce.

  “No,” I said. “You’ll stop undermining Warren, period. Not just in front of others. Don’t you know he’s one of Christmas River’s most highly respected elders? He’s practically a legend in this part of the world.”

  Daniel scoffed.

  “Most highly respected elders? A legend? Now c’mon, Cin. You don’t have to exaggerate about him to get me to quit making fun of the old timer.”

  “Daniel Brightman!” I said. “If you weren’t making me dinner right now, I’d come over there and… and—”

  “Come over here and what?” Daniel said, playfully.

  I let out a frustrated grunt.

  “Make you pay for what you just said.”

  He tilted his head and looked back out at the lake.

  “Well, don’t worry your pretty head. There’ll be plenty of time for that after dinner.”

  “Daniel Brightman!” I shouted again.

  He started snickering, his whole body reverberating with the effort.

  “I’m sorry, Cin,” he said, flipping the filets and looking back at me. “I’ve just… I’ve really missed this.”

  I crossed my arms tighter and gave him a seething look. But already, whatever annoyances I had with him over his mistreatment of Warren had already evaporated.

  Because the truth was, I’d missed this, too.

  After a few more moments, Daniel turned the propane burner off and delicately scooped up the trout onto two blue camping plates. He cut off more butter, brushing the filets with it, then sliced up a lemon. He squeezed generous amounts on both plates, added a helping of thyme to each, and then carried them over. He knelt down next to me, leaning his back against the same tree I was leaning on. He handed me the plate, along with a fork.

  “Truce?” he said.

  I gazed at him for a moment, thinking about it.

  “Let me try this first before I commit to anything,” I said.

  “Suit yourself.”

  I dug my fork into the steaming trout, blowing on it a second before popping a forkful of the white filet into my mouth.

  The sweet, buttery, lemony fish had to have been the juiciest, freshest, most delicious trout I’d ever had.

  “I take it we have a truce, then?” Daniel said, seeing my grin.

  I shrugged, taking another heavenly bite.

  “Maybe. But just by a hair.”

  Within a few seconds, the fish on my plate was completely gone.

  Chapter 18

  “So you think Wes and Angie are millionaires by now?” I asked.

  The couple was still on their adventure in the mountains.

  “Anything’s possible,” Daniel said.

  “You know, Angie promised to cut me in if they did find anything,” I said. “She said it’d be a way to compensate me for Wes passing on his Christmas Flynn treasure obsession to you.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t exactly call myself obsessed,” Daniel said. “At least, not like Wes. He’s on a whole other level. You don’t even know the half of it, Cin – he’s spent years on this thing.”

  I placed the remains of our trout feast out for Huckleberry and Chadwick, who chowed down on the meager scraps ravenously.

  They’d been getting boatloads of scraps and leftovers and treats from me lately as a result of my own guilt for having left them so much this summer. Cutting back a little wasn’t going to hurt them.

  “What would you do with a million dollars?” I asked, glancing at Daniel.

  “That’s easy,” he said, not missing a beat. “I’d pay off the mortgage. Then I’d take you on a trip to Europe.”

  I grinned.

  “You would?”

  He nodded.

  “What else?” I asked.

  He rubbed his chin, looking out at the lake for a long while.

  “That’s it, I guess,” he said.

  “That’s all?” I said. “You wouldn’t quit your job or buy a big fancy house or travel the seven continents or something?”

  He stroked his chin some more, considering it.

  “I might get us a nice little cabin out in the woods,” he said “And anything else you might like, Cin. But other than that, I don’t need any frills. I like my job just fine. I like my life just fine, too.”

  “Then what would you do with the rest?”

  He shrugged.

  “Probably put in it a college fund for our kids one day,” he said.

  I gazed at him, my cheeks burning a little bit.

  He caught me looking.

  “What?” he said.

  I shook my head, gazing back at the lake.

  “Nothing,” I said. “Just… you’re one in a million, Daniel Brightman. One in a million.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  I laughed, pecking him on the cheek. He set his plate down and put his arm around me.

  “But you know, we don’t have to wait until we find some legendary treasure before we go to Europe, Cin,” he said.

  I looked up at him, trying to gauge if he was joking.

  He wasn’t.

  “Really?” I asked.

  He nodded.

  “I mean, if an old curmudgeon like Warren can go off to Scotland for a year, I don’t see why we can’t take a trip across the pond, too.”

  “Say,” I said. “What do you mean an old curmudgeon like Warren? I thought we just went through all of this.”

  “You’re right,” he said. “My bad. What I mean is that if he can do it, what’s to stop us from going over there? I’ve got a little money saved up. It’s not much, but it’ll be enough for a few weeks, I think. I’ve got some vacation time coming my way in February, and I’m sure that you could get Tiana, Tobias, and Ian to run things at the shop while you’re gone.”

  Daniel’s eyes lit up, the way they did when an idea grabbed him.

  “I mean, where do you want to go? I promised to take you to Paris one day, remember? Want to go there? Or what about Amsterdam? Or Rome? What’s stopping us from going?”

  I studied him for a long moment.

  “What’s bringing all this on?” I asked. “You’ve never really talked about traveling before.”

  He shrugged, picking as some grass growing around the tree.

  “Sometimes a man just feels like an adventure, that’s all
,” he said. “Seeing the sights and doing the things that everybody’s always talking about. You know?”

  I smiled, then sidled up closer to him.

  “I’d be remiss if I didn’t point out that you’re sounding an awful lot like a certain old man you always make fun of, Daniel. Talking about big trips to Europe and in the third person about yourself like that. I mean, if you’re not careful, then you’ll—”

  I let out a sharp, sudden yip as Daniel’s fingers suddenly found the most ticklish spot on my ribcage and began going to work. I squirmed and collapsed on my side, laughing uncontrollably. Daniel was on top of me shortly thereafter. I tried to wriggle free, but couldn’t. All I could do was laugh like a woman who had just escaped scot-free from the loony bin.

  Huckleberry and Chadwick started barking at us, unable to understand just what was going on.

  “What was that you were saying?” Daniel said.

  “Nothing!” I choked out.

  “Oh, it wasn’t just nothing, darlin,’” he said, leaning in closer, his pale green eyes meeting mine. “You were accusing me of being like—”

  But just then, a sharp ring interrupted our moment of fun. A second later, Daniel dropped his hand from my ribcage.

  He shook his head, his eyes still meeting mine.

  “We really should get you to a casino,” he said. “You are one lucky woman.”

  He leaned back, releasing me from his grip, and reached across the picnic blanket for his phone. I let out a sigh of relief, sitting up.

  “This is Sheriff Brightman,” he said, answering.

  A hint of mischief still remained in his eyes as he gazed at me.

  A voice that sounded an awful like Deputy Billy Jasper’s broke across the speaker.

  A moment later, all trace of fun faded from Daniel’s face as he listened to what the deputy had to say. And it was replaced by something else entirely.

  Something I didn’t like seeing.

  Worry.

  Chapter 19

  “I knew something was wrong when they didn’t show up for Frankie’s birthday party yesterday,” Deb Dulany said, shifting her bloodshot eyes from Daniel to me. “I mean, Wes would never miss Frankie’s birthday. Even if he did find that treasure out there. It’s just not like him.”