“Why would we call you?” I whisper as I bring my finger to my lips. “They’re going to close the library soon, and if we want to get locked in after-hours we need to get lost, now.”
The four of us go our separate ways, and I find a nook in the back corner where they keep boxes of old magazines and flick through a few before they announce they’re closing in a few minutes and that all books should be brought up front.
One by one the florescent lights overhead flicker off until there’s just a couple of rows left, dimming things down to the equivalent of a nightlight. The click of heels saunters toward the exit, and I tiptoe in that direction and watch as a couple of women head into the foyer, before leaving and locking the doors behind them.
“The coast is clear!” someone bellows from the front, and I can’t help but close my eyes.
“Would you keep it down?” I shout back, because clearly I am not immune to the lunacy.
Steph, Tilly, Regina, and I meet near the checkout counter, and I can’t help but notice Tilly is cradling something pink in her arms.
“What is that?” I squint over at it. “A baby?”
“More like a box of baby donuts.” She opens it up, and each of us crashes a hand inside of it like a bunch of donut-hungry vultures.
Stephanie grunts as she takes a bite. “I can’t believe they were going to let all of this delicious food go to waste. That’s a sin no matter what religion you are.”
Regina moans through a bite. “My religion just so happens to be donuts.”
“I thought it was fried chicken.” I lift a brow her way. I’ve witnessed her ardent worship of the fried bird myself.
“Never mind what you think,” she snips. “What are you doing here? If I’m going to do the time, I may as well be apprised of the crime.”
“I’m heading off to Holly Wright’s office. The three of you stay put. And try not to break anything,” I say.
Stephanie scoffs. “This is a library, Bowie. What are we going to break? Books?”
I traipse my way to the foyer where it’s cooler and my feet clip-clop over the ceramic tiles, forcing me to tiptoe. But the forced clip-clop of designer boots running to catch up with me demands that I hold my breath in lieu of losing my temper.
Regina pops up next to me. “Where are you off to? I thought you said you were going to poke around in some office?”
“I am.” I sniff. “Besides, why do you care? You’re just anxious to turn me in, aren’t you?” I study her for a moment to see if she flinches, but she simply squints my way.
“Why would I turn you in? I’m right here with you.”
“You know, turn me in—you and Shep.” I probably shouldn’t have gone there, but I can’t help it. That vision I had all but ensured she’s chomping at the bit to turn me over to the feds. And I have no doubt it’s the feds. I mean, how would Regina turn me over to the mob? It’s not like she’s got mob ties in Starry Falls—
I suck in quick breath.
Those two goons!
Maybe they’re a part of Regina’s big plan to shove me into the flames? Why else would they be sniffing around Starry Falls of all places? It all makes perfect sense now. And boy, am I in bigger trouble than I thought. Maybe. I’m not often right, but that doesn’t seem to matter at the moment.
Regina swats me on the arm. “I’m not turning you in, but if you keep hyperventilating, we’ll be here all night. Now pull it together. Where’s this office?”
“This way.” I lead us to the left, and sure enough there’s a door marked head librarian.
Regina jiggles the doorknob, and it doesn’t budge.
“Locked,” she hisses.
“That’s what I’ve got this for.” I pull a bobby pin from my hair and wiggle and jiggle that lock until the door glides open, practically inviting us inside.
I pull out my phone and turn on the flashlight just as Regina flicks on the lights.
“Would you turn those off?” I motion for her to do just that as I give a quick glance around.
“How are we supposed to see?” She steps away from the light switch, proving to be just as ornery as ever.
“Never mind,” I say. “Stand in front of the window. That way they’ll know who to arrest when the cops show up.” I make myself at home behind the desk and pull on my gloves. Regina might have touched the doorknob, but that doesn’t mean I plan on leaving any fingerprints behind.
Unfortunately for me, the middle drawer yields nothing but pens and pencils and a few stray paperclips here and there. I pull the side drawer open to the right and am met with a few folders. Each one has an employee’s name on it. I spot Kaila Clark and pull it out.
Inside, I find a resume and a few letters of recommendation. I’m about to pull out one of those glowing reviews when a small pink piece of paper floats out from the folder and Regina snaps it up.
“I bet this is incriminating evidence.” She waggles her brows as she turns it over. “Canadian fox?” She hands it to me.
“What’s that?” I examine it a moment and there are only two words on it. “Canadian fox.” I shrug it off. “Okay, so maybe they needed to order books on Canadian foxes and it fell into the file?” I pilfer through the rest of the employee files, but nary another fox—or a clue for that matter, do I find. I quickly sweep through the rest of the office but come up with zippo. “Well, there you go,” I say. “I guess this was a bust.” I look over to find Regina crouching on the floor near the desk. She probably found an old pretzel to gnaw on. What can I say? The girl likes to snack while breaking and entering. “Come on, let’s go.” I head for the door, and she clasps onto my ankle, nearly tripping me in the endeavor.
“Hang on, I’m looking through all these old notes she threw away. You can find lots of valuable things in the trash. Didn’t they teach you that in detective school?” She shoots a snide grin my way. “Oh, wait, you didn’t go to detective school.”
“You’re a riot,” I say, kneeling next to her and pulling the wastebasket over. Regina and I riffle through each and every crumpled up piece of paper, and there’s not much more than a few crunched numbers Holly inputted manually on her calculator, and a few errant notes that don’t amount to much.
“Call Ford,” Regina reads as she waves the tiny note in front of me, and I pull it my way.
“Call Ford,” I read. “And look”—I point to the bottom of the yellow piece of paper—“it says twenty-five hundred. Ford mentioned she owed him money. Maybe that was the total?” I flip it over and scrawled across the back it reads. “Over my dead body.”
The sound of something or someone knocking against the window sends both Regina and me mobilizing, evicting ourselves from the office as we race to gather Tilly and Steph. The four of us, along with that pink box of donuts, hightail it out of the library, jump into our cars, and race our way to the nearest fried chicken drive-thru.
What can I say? It’s been a long night. I think we all deserved a little chicken lovin’.
Stephanie and I pull up to the cabin at the same time as Shep, and he pauses with morbid curiosity as he examines the greasy bucket in my sister’s arms.
“Bowie? Please tell me that chicken doesn’t represent anything other than the fact you’re hungry.”
“Why do you ask?” I pretend to study the cheery Christmas lights garnishing our cabins as if reliving a wonderful memory, and hoping he’ll do the same.
Shep exhales, and a plume of smoke curls from his nostrils.
“Because the last time I caught you with a drumstick in your hand, you had just broken into someone else’s office.”
“Ooh.” Stephanie shakes her head. “You’re a really good detective.” She holds the bucket his way. “Does all that hard work make you hungry?”
“Bowie,” Shep says it stern and sexy as all get out, and I’m left to wonder what do I have to do to get this man alone.
“Come on, you two.” Stephanie herds us into my cabin. “I’ll pull out the cookies, the leftover lasagn
a, and you two kids can duke it out while getting some good food in your bellies.”
Shep nods her way. “What about the chicken?”
“It’ll cost you my company,” Stephanie says while pulling up a seat at the table. “But what the heck.”
I heat up the lasagna, plate it up, and land some forks on the table along with my Nana Rose’s anise cookies. The anise cookies are about the size and shape of a walnut, and each one is dipped in pink icing then rolled in sprinkles. No use in pretending we’re not going to attack those cuties right after dinner. In fact, I might just skip straight to dessert.
“So where were you and what have you got?” Shep asks before shoveling in a forkful of lasagna and engaging in one of those deep throaty moans that typically means the food is better than most carnal things that feed the body.
I shrug over at him. “We were at the library, Holly Wright’s office to be exact, and I found nada. What about you? What’s this new evidence?”
“Nora had a few specifics on what Holly owed Ford and why. Turns out, it was less than three thousand dollars, and Holly claimed she needed the money for a garden she was putting in.”
“Who told her that?” I ask, partially because I’m not believing anyone borrows that much to put in a garden in the dead of winter.
“Beauford’s ex-wife.” He shrugs. “Not that I believe anyone is borrowing money for a garden in the dead of winter.”
I point over to him with a cookie in hand. “I knew I liked you. So what’s next?”
He shrugs. “You tell me. Who are the suspects in the lineup?”
“Let’s see. Kaila? She and Holly didn’t get along, but then who did Holly get along with? The night Holly was killed Kaila made a rather dark remark. She said Holly had better hope their paths didn’t cross again that night. And then there’s that whole thing about her lying regarding her relationship with Ford. So weird. Unless, of course, Ford is the liar in that equation.”
Stephanie picks up an anise cookie off the platter. “What about that woman we met at DoReMi Karaoke?”
“Carol Bransford.” I nod. “She and Holly were in the same sorority together. But things soured once Holly wanted Carol to ditch her job at the distillery.” I look to Shep. “And Ford told us that Holly’s uncle owned that distillery. But Kaila told me that he died recently, and that Holly was fuming because she was left out of the will.” A thought comes to me. “You know, I saw a business card that fell from Carol’s purse that said she was the CFO of that place. She said it was just for a little while. I guess Holly got her demoted somehow—something to do with all the drama.”
“Men hate drama,” Stephanie says while fishing another drumstick out of the bucket.
“Women hate it, too,” I’m quick to point out. “That’s why the killer could just as easily be a woman.”
Shep grabs a cookie. “But there are two men we’re looking at.” He pops the anise goodness into his mouth and savors it. “Wow, these are amazing.”
“Don’t I know it,” I say, snapping up another one, and my sister does the same. “Okay, how about Beauford? Holly destroyed his marriage, and she owed him money. And let’s not forget Mayor Wright, aka Santa Claus.”
Stephanie shakes her head. “The mayor may have hated her guts, but he was dealing with hundreds of screaming kids that night. The man didn’t do it.” She pauses with her cookie in midair. “On second thought, dealing with hundreds of screaming kids could drive anyone batty. If my ex showed up, I’d strangle him with Christmas lights, too, just to take the edge off. Maybe we should give the poor guy a pass?”
I frown over at her. “Nobody gets a pass when it comes to murder. Especially not murder during the holidays. It’s twice as sacrilegious as it is any other time of year.”
We finish up our meals deep in contemplation. Once we’re through, I walk Shep out and we stand between our cabins, admiring our multi-colored handiwork.
“I can’t believe Christmas is just about here.” I sigh as I wrap my arms around him.
Shep drops a kiss to my nose. “Missing your family?”
I nod. “But I’ve got my sister.” I give his tie a playful tug. “And I’ve got you.”
“You bet you’ve got me.” He gently lifts my chin with his finger. “You feel like family to me, Bowie. I hope I feel the same to you.”
I nod as I lick my lips. “And I’m not talking about in a brotherly way. Are you coming to the mayor’s Christmas party at the manor tomorrow night?”
“With you there, I wouldn’t miss it.” He points up, and I look to see a frosted sprig of mistletoe hanging from the branch of an evergreen.
“Now there’s some forward-thinking, Detective. And I most wholeheartedly approve.”
“Good, because it’s practically illegal not to share a kiss when you’re standing underneath that magical bough.”
“And if I didn’t kiss you?”
“I’d be forced to arrest you.”
I bite down on a smile. “I just might be gunning for both.”
“Lucky girl, I was about to arrest you anyway for breaking and entering.”
“At the library?”
Shep tips his head back, his blue eyes shining down over me like a heat lamp.
“My heart.” He winks, no smile.
Shep and I share a kiss that makes that magical bough up above wish it could blush.
Shep says I’ve broken in and entered his heart, and the thought warms me from head to toe.
The best part? He’s broken into my heart, too.
Let’s just hope he doesn’t break my heart right after he turns me in to the feds.
Maybe if I help him nab Holly Wright’s killer, he’ll want to keep me around a little while longer.
Here’s hoping.
Chapter 13
I knew Nana Rose’s cookies would be a hit, but I had no idea they’d darn near incite a riot. Stephanie and I baked our fingers to the bone all week and sold twice as many boxes as we ever thought possible. I’ve never been so thankful in all my life that Christmas is almost upon us.
It’s Christmas Eve Eve, and Mayor Wright’s ugly sweater holiday party is in full swing. The ballroom is brimming with the requisite accouterment, and I can’t take my eyes off the strange alterations people have made to these poor knit sweaters. Some of the knitted atrocities blink and wink, some wiggle and jiggle, some even giggle, and there are even a few that claim to be interactive, but there’s no way I’m pressing that touch me button set in a precarious location.
Cheerful Christmas carols blare from the speakers as people loosen up and start to dance to the music. The eggnog is flowing, there’s a line beneath the mistletoe, the giant tree in the corner is adorned with colorful lights and shiny red ornaments that hang like apples, and Mayor Wright has dressed up as Santa Claus once again. There is more merriment and holiday cheer in this room to fuel Santa’s sleigh to the moon. But the shining star on this night is the refreshment table laden with hot cocoa, fresh coffee, and enough of Nana Rose’s cookies to feed the entire Eastern Seaboard.
“Not a bad party.” Stephanie bumps her hip to mine, and I can’t help but scowl at the horror she’s chosen to wear.
“Would you go home and put something decent on? This is a family-friendly event in case you didn’t get the memo.”
“What? You don’t like it?” She shimmies her shoulders, and I all but growl at her.
Stephanie’s sweater has a picture of a boob hanging out with a star slapped over it like a pasty. The rest of the sweater is red with silver stars, which would have been a cute concept all on its own.
“Where does one pick up a nightmare like that, anyway?” I glare at her for daring to look like a boob in the truest sense.
“I got it at a gag shop out in Scooter Springs when I went to visit Enzo and Dom. Enzo found a snazzy little roadside bar he’s thinking of purchasing, and he wanted my opinion on it.”
“Tell me things aren’t heating up between the two of you.”
/> “Things are heating up between the three of us.” She gives a cheeky wink my way. “Now that we’re in an official love triangle, I’ve invited them both here as my date. I can’t wait until they see me in this. I bet it’s going to incite a war.”
“Great,” I say. “On the bright side, they’ll probably end up offing each other because of you. So in a way, you’re doing the world a favor taking down one mobster at a time—or in this case two.”
She nods. “They’ve already said if they see me with another guy, he’s a dead man walking.”
Mud comes over with a T-shirt with a tuxedo printed over it and a necklace comprised of silver garland around his neck like a lei.
“Well, holy hot stuff, Lola.” He sweeps his eyes up and down her body. Mud has short, spiky, dirty blond hair and a dirty mind to match. “Let’s not waste any more time. We’re hitting the dance floor.”
Stephanie giggles like a schoolgirl as he takes her hand and begins to lead her away.
She turns my way. “Dead man walking!”
“Perfect,” I say, turning back to look at the dessert table. As if it wasn’t bad enough, Starry Falls still has one outstanding homicide. Although, in all fairness, Mud’s murder will be much easier to solve.
Opal traipses up with a long red velvet gown, complete with a bustle and a petticoat. She’s wearing a forest green pillbox hat and has on enough rubies and emeralds around her neck to warrant a security guard. But I suppose that’s why she has an armful of cats with her. King, the spotted and striped Bengal, Jinx, a black and white tuxedo cat who is as fat as he is old, and an orange tabby named Whiskers.
“Bowie, really?” She frowns over at my sweater, and I hold it out by the hem for her to get a better look at.
“What?” I say, taking a moment to admire the red cable wonder with a giant blinking Christmas tree that takes up most of the front. “As soon as I saw these colorful twinkle lights, I knew this was going to rock my holidays. And check this out.” I press the gold star dotting the top of the evergreen, and music begins to sound from it. “It’s playing ‘Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer.’ Not that you can tell over the roar of this crowd. It turns out, it was a great idea to add a comfort station next to the eggnog—just for the adults, of course.” It was my idea, but Opal provided the booze. So far we’re making triple what we bring in on a good night with Stitch Witchery.
A Candy Cane Cat-astrophe Page 12
