Candy Canes & Corpses

by Abby L. Vandiver

  “Sir, we’ve been getting calls from all the people in Paint Creek and Calhoun telling us about the wonderful Santa Claus who had no Santa Claus suit. The people at the festival directed us here. On behalf of Magical Novelties, Inc. I would like to present you with our deluxe Kris Kringle suit.”

  “Gee, thanks!” Junior said, taking the large box.

  “Now, if you will just sign here, indicating that you received the item,” he said putting on his glasses.

  Those spectacles… “Ferdy?

  “Miss? I’m Alex Ferdinand. I haven’t been Ferdy since high school wrestling. Have we met.”

  “No…no, sorry.”

  He took the receipt from Junior, bowed his head slightly to each of us, and was gone.

  “I’m sure you’re going to love that suit, Junior. It will help you really get into character.”

  “He opened the box and looked at it. It’s really a nice suit, Mercy. Not sure why they just gave it to me.”

  “That's what happens when you’re the best Santa Claus in the business. How’s that sleigh coming?”

  “Geez, I don’t know, Mercy. All the snow is gone already. Maybe we’ll just do hay rides.”

  “No way. I heard there was a storm in the Gulf, so there might be a lot of moisture coming up this way. Why don’t you ask Ed Bear to do a rain dance, except for snow?”

  His face lit up. “That’s a great idea! That’ll work for sure.”

  “Great, because I’m going to need Santa’s sleigh in my parade.”

  “Your parade?”

  A woman walked into the room, and I recognized her as Lucille Gildemeister.

  “I heard they brought you here, and I just had to come to wish you the best.”

  “Oh, hi, Lucille. I’m doing fine now. And, of course, it’s your parade. But, you know if Marcy calls you and decides to go skiing at Aspen this week, I’m your girl!”

  Her phone rang. Her face went blank and she looked at me before she hung up.

  “Marcy’s going to Aspen. So, I can count on you then?”

  “Done deal,” I said, “as long as Ruby will be my assistant producer.”

  “I’d love to!” Ruby said, genuinely.

  A nurse walked into the room. I couldn’t see her behind all the people, but I could hear her.

  “Okay, everyone, time to go. Miss Howard needs her rest, and then you can have her back in the morning!”

  Everyone said their goodbyes, and I yawned.

  “One good night’s sleep, and I should be 100 percent, I said to the nurse as she changed the IV bag.”

  “And one more bag of fluid,” she said with a smile.

  Oh, my. “Cupcake?”

  She gave me an odd look. “My dad used to call me that.” She let out a little giggle. “Actually, he still does. He even made 35 cupcakes for me last month on my 35th birthday.”

  I just nodded. Maybe I’m still hallucinating.

  “But, you’re a girl.”

  “That I am!” She said, giving me an odd look.

  Then she pretended to grab something out of the palm of her hand with the fingertips of her other hand, sprinkling the invisible stuff on me.

  “What’s that?” I asked.

  She gently tucked her flaxen hair behind a rather pointy ear. “Pixie dust. For good luck.” She winked and pulled my covers up just a little before she left the room.

  I insisted that the whole gang come over to my house after dinner on Christmas Day. Six inches of snow on Christmas Eve, and another inch overnight made it one of the best Christmases I could remember.

  Of course, Smoke, Ruby, and Brody came to my house for dinner too. Smoke loved to make holiday dinners, and I wasn’t going to complain! His turkey with all the trimmings was wonderful.

  And, naturally, Ruby was busy now making some goodies for dessert with the whole group.

  Deloris and Babs made dinner at Deloris’s house for the rest of the gang. The bell rang, and everybody arrived together.

  “I hope you’re all not tired of wassail yet,” Deloris said, bringing in a five-quart crockpot filled with the liquid gold.

  “Never!” I said, taking the pot right to the serving table we had set up in the living room. “Your wassail is perfect all the time, especially on Christmas Day.”

  Ruby already had a platter of Christmas cookies on the table, and another of beautifully decorated gingerbread men. She came in from the kitchen now with yet another treat.

  “Here’ you go, folks,” She said with a bright smile as she set another platter down. “Snickerdoodle candy cane cookies with red and white peppermint icing!”

  “More candy canes? Really, Ruby?” I asked, though they did make my mouth water.

  “Well you were the only one who got to have a Candy Cane Killer and a big candy cane Danish, Mercy. It’s only fair.”

  “Speaking of which,” Brody said, “we’ve barely had a minute to talk since you cracked that case, what with the festival and the parade and all.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Solving that murder didn’t leave you with much of a case load.”

  “Hey, now. My team provided security for festivals all over the county.”

  “Just teasing, Sheriff,” I said with a smile. “It was just a lucky fluke.”

  “Was it though?” He had a serious look on his face. “I mean, you nailed just about every detail, Mercy. The names on the list, the canes that were stolen from the flea market – I was chasing the canes that were stolen at the festival here, but those turned out to just be random thefts. And then, of course, searching his parents’ house instead of his apartment.”

  “Well, the best part is that Professor Hern and Maria Brown-Calderone are still alive,” I said. “That makes it worthwhile to feel like I’m insane.”

  “Let’s just chalk it all up to a Christmas miracle,” Ruby said, raising her glass of wassail.

  “I’ll drink to that,” Junior said, raising a big mug.

  “Me too,” echoed Jake and the others.

  Somehow, this had turned out to be the best Christmas ever. I knew in this moment that I really was with family right now. These people were the world to me, and Paint Creek was my home forever. There was no doubt about that.

  Of course, although I told them every detail of my dream, I didn’t tell them that I saw Ferdy and Cupcake at the hospital. That was just too crazy for me to share.

  But I did save some of that invisible pixie dust she sprinkled on me and put it in my coin purse, because – you just never know.

  THE END

  More books from the Old School Diner Series

  Murder at Stake

  Murder Well Done

  A Side Order of Deception

  Murder, Basted and Barbecued

  Murder Ala Mode

  The Case of the Felonious Feline by Leigh Selfman & Sylvia Selfman

  THE CASE OF THE FELONIOUS FELINE

  A Paisley and Pumpkin Mystery

  by Leigh Selfman & Sylvia Selfman

  Copyright ©

  2018 Leigh Selfman & Sylvia Selfman

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without permission from the publisher or writer, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes.

  Paisley

  I’m sitting in my den – which is actually more of a closet than a den – going over my bills and it all seems pretty hopeless. I’m never going to be able to open my Cupcake Cafe at this rate. Not with my car in the shape it’s in and the power bill which skyrocketed last month thanks to an ancient refrigerator I can’t afford to replace.

  Oh well.

  I sigh as I get up and look out the window and take in the view of the brick wall across the alley. Somehow, things aren’t going exactly the way I planned.

  Taking a deep breath, I go back over to open the last envelope in the stack of day’s mail. Another bill probably, I think as I glance at the return address on the envelope. It reads
Hastings and Hastings, Attorneys at Law.

  Great. Now I’m probably being be sued for something. My mind races as I try to think of any crimes I may have committed recently. Does jaywalking count? I hope not.

  Nothing else comes to mind except for that vintage jacket I wore to a party the-week-before-last, which my best pal, Sara, called a fashion crime. I figure this letter probably has something to do with my landlord raising my rent again. Which is not good news. For a tiny studio with an even tinier kitchen and bathroom, the rent he charges is the real crime.

  Steeling myself for bad news, I slit the envelope open with my fingernail.

  “Ouch!” I scream as the sharp end of the envelope cuts into my flesh. I put my finger in my mouth to ease the pain – and just then, the doorbell rings.

  “Honey, open up!” Jeremy, my boyfriend, calls out to me.

  I get up and open the door to see that Jeremy’s arms are laden down with brown packages containing delicious-smelling Chinese food from our favorite neighborhood takeout.

  The piquant smell of the orange chicken with the garlicky sweet and sour sauce makes my mouth water as I relieve him of the bags and carry them over to the painted-wood coffee table that sits in front of my fold-up sofa bed. (Did I say my studio is small? Yes. It is sofa-bed-small.)

  “Yum,” I say as I put the bag down on the coffee table and then run to grab some plates and utensils. “I’m starved.”

  I grab one of the eggrolls and take a warm crunchy bite. At the same time, I grab the brown paper bag that the Chinese food had come in – which is now dark on the bottom with grease – and I see that the lawyer’s letter has gotten stuck to the bottom of it. In my rush to taste the food, everything else has been completely erased from my mind – including my fear of a lawsuit.

  But now that I’d had a few good bites of food, I am able to face the letter with more aplomb. I open it up and read it.

  Then I scream.

  “Honey, what is it?” Jeremy asks.

  Wordlessly, I hand him the letter. He takes it and reads aloud:

  “Dear Paisley Palmer. We regret to inform you that your Great-Aunt Agnes Summers Worthington, has passed away. As per her wishes, you are the heir to her estate, including her house on Montclair Lane in the town of Tuillieries.”

  “Ahh!!” I scream again – unable to stop myself.

  Jeremy studies me. “Are you screaming due to sadness over your great-aunt’s passing? Or joy over inheriting her house? Or do you need me to Heimlich you?”

  “Maybe all of the above,” I say grabbing the letter again and scanning through it. “I do feel bad for Poor old Aunt Agnes, even though I didn’t really know her at all. In fact…I’m not really even sure that I ever met her.”

  “And you’re obviously not choking, so…you’re happy?”

  I nod in disbelief. “Yes. I mean, I’ve been living in a two-foot by two-foot apartment. And here, Great Aunt Agnes is leaving me her entire house. It has to be bigger than my studio, right? I mean, they wouldn’t really call a studio apartment an ‘estate’ would they?”

  “Unlikely,” Jeremy says. “So where is Tuilleries?”

  “No idea,” I say. “I have to call Messrs. Hastings, Hastings and Hastings to find out.”

  “I think it was just “Hasting and Hastings,” he says.

  I look at him. “But I mean, if I have to move, you’ll come with me right?”

  He glances over at me and I see hesitation. He bites into his eggroll and talks through a mouthful off food. “Of course. Sure thing,” he mumbles, as though by obscuring his words with cabbage and sprouts they won’t carry the same significance.

  Or maybe that’s not it at all. Maybe I’m just reading into things.

  PAISLEY

  Two Months Later

  I hear the doorbell ring just as I’m pulling my new dress over my head, but unfortunately, my earring is caught on the silky fabric.

  “Just a minute,” I call out, trying to untangle myself without ripping anything vital—like my earlobe or the dress I’d just spent a week’s salary on. “I’m coming!”

  I hurry down the echoing hall, struck again by the beauty of this this gorgeous house that my great-aunt left to me in her will. I’m still baffled by the fact that she wanted me to have it. Especially as I’d never met her before. After all, it wasn’t like I was her only living relative -- she had other, even closer relatives—like her sister’s daughter who really, really REALLY wanted the place.

  In fact, she wanted it so much that she stormed into the lawyer’s office just as I was signing the papers and demanded it. She claimed she was the legal heir and that I’d obviously manipulated Great-Aunt Agnes into giving it to me.

  The fact that I’d never even met Great Aunt Agnes didn’t’ seem to faze her whatsoever. And as I watched distant cousin-in-law Selena scream her beautiful head off, I realized just why Aunt Agnes might not have wanted her to have it. The girl really had a temper. And a definite mean streak, judging by all the names she was calling me.

  Though of course it was unlikely she’d ever have shown that side to Aunt Agnes.

  But who knew? Maybe Aunt Agnes was as wise as she looked in her photos and could see through her façade.

  In any case, for some reason or other—I know not why – Great-Aunt Agnes had wanted me to have it.

  I still hadn’t even gone through everything in the house— for unfortunately, Great-Aunt Agnes (or GAA as I’d taken to calling her for short) was a bit of a hoarder. She also had this cat—Pumpkin that came with the place- an orange and white tabby whose care and feeding was part of the package. I figured that was no big deal—not that I was much of a cat person. But how hard could it be to take care of one feline, right?

  Little did I know.

  Pumpkin would appear at the strangest times and just watch me…with an almost human look on his face. A human look of disappointment that is. I’d tell my best friend Sara about him on the phone—Sara being a total cat person. But she’d just tell me I was projecting or reading into his look. “Cats are mysterious and clever and fascinating, but he is not disappointed in you,” she said. “Not yet anyway. After all, he barely knows you.”

  Hmm, thanks. I think.

  Sometimes I felt we might really be bonding and other times…well, I wasn’t so sure. Maybe he was just using me for food. Sometimes I’d catch him watching me and wonder what was going on behind those hypnotic yellow eyes of his. It looked like he was thinking all sorts of complicated thoughts—but of course that was ridiculous. He was probably just thinking how much he’d like one of those squishy cat treats.

  In any case, I didn’t have time to wonder about it now. I had a date. It was really my first date since moving to town and I just hoped I was ready for it after the breakup with my last boyfriend.

  That had been a bad one. My ex from my old town had planned on moving out here with me. He even flew out here the week after I moved in. But then at the last minute he changed his mind. He refused to actually make the move—even though he had his own advertising business and could live anywhere he pleased. But he chose the city over me. And I chose to come here without him.

  That had been a month ago and I thought I might need more time to heal from the whole miserable mess, but then I ran into this new guy, Rafe.

  I met him, by chance, at the pet store…and it turned out we had the same taste in music and food and movies…so, I figured I’d give it a shot. Plus, he was pretty cute and had a really nice, sweet smile. And he loved animals of all kinds, so how bad could he be?

  I run into the bathroom and take a last glance at myself in the mirror. Then I pick up GAA’s beautiful, silver and enamel brush and run it through my hair, which looks nice and shiny and silky. Except for that one unruly cowlick. I brush that down and I’m good to go.

  “Now be nice, Pumpkin. Okay?” I say as I open the door.

  Pumpkin appears skeptical.

  “You look beautiful,” Rafe says, an appreciative grin on his h
andsome face.

  His blue eyes twinkle as he looks me over, then he steps inside, bringing the scent of Ralph Lauren Polo with him.

  PUMPKIN

  I really don’t know what’s wrong with her. Can’t she see he’s bad news? I look over at her. She’s watching him, a twinkle in her eyes as she opens the door. I know that look. It’s trouble. Especially with this one.

  Just to let him know that I’m not falling for his act, I hiss at him as soon as he steps inside.

  “Pumpkin!” she says as she scoops me into her arms. “C’mon, be nice to Rafe.”

  She snuggles me for a second but I squirm in her arms and jump onto the floor.

  Rafe? What kind of name is Rafe?

  “Heh, that’s okay,” Rafe says to her. “He’ll warm up to me when he gets to know me better. Animals usually love me.”

  Even she won’t believe that, I think as I look over at her. But…she’s smiling at him!

  She actually believes him. She never learns.

  I was so relieved when we finally got rid of that last one. It took her forever to realize that he was not for me. And ergo not for her.

  And when she finally did realize it, she was so unhappy that she attempted to snuggle with me every night – pouring her heart out to me. Holding me as she cried, night after night. It was miserable but I allowed it to a degree – in the hopes that maybe she’d learn a lesson. After all, if she was the one who would be providing my food bowls whilst I protected my old human’s house and things, she needed to get her act together. And I thought maybe she had.

  She said it was going to be just us from now on. Men were awful. And stupid. They lied and couldn’t commit. Cats were so much better.

  True. So true.

  But then, not even 30 food bowls later, she’s already found a new one! And this one’s up to something. I can tell. I just don’t know what. Or why.