Candy Canes & Corpses

by Abby L. Vandiver

  Just then, the old lady opens her door and almost trips over the two cats as she steps out into the hallway. She grabs onto the doorframe to catch herself. “Oh dear,” she says, holding onto her heart. “Well I guess you found your cats.”

  “Just one cat,” I tell her. “Pumpkin’s mine. I don’t know who that other guy belongs to.”

  “Hmm,” she frowns, looking at him closely. “Judging from his condition, he doesn’t look like he belongs to anyone.” She looks at him sadly, then bends down tentatively to pet him. The cat is so busy lapping up my salmon dinner that he doesn’t seem to mind.

  “Yes, you’re a good boy, aren’t you?” she whispers. He looks up at her. And for a moment I’m afraid he’s going to bite her. But instead, he noses her fingers then rests his old head on her hand.

  “I’ve always thought about getting another cat,” she says softly. “After Max died. But I wasn’t sure if I should.” She blinks back tears. “But now…maybe it’s time.”

  As she lifts him up gently and carries him into her apartment – we wish her Merry Christmas. At which point she invites us all in for some candy-cane flavored hot chocolate. And we all toast each other and the upcoming New Year.

  THE END

  Sylvia Selfman & Leigh Selfman

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  Christmas, Chaos & Second Chances by Zanna Mackenzie

  CHRISTMAS, CHAOS & SECOND CHANCES

  A Romantic Comedy Mystery Short Story

  by Zanna Mackenzie

  Christmas, Chaos & Second Chances – © 2018 Zanna Mackenzie

  The moral rights of the author have been asserted. All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. All plots, incidents, characters, locations, organisations, names etc. are fictitious, created from the author’s imagination and any resemblance to real persons, incidents, locations, organisations, names is purely coincidental. No part of this book may be stored, shared, copied, transmitted or reproduced in any way without express written permission from the author.

  About This Story:

  When Bernie, the star of breakfast show TV Rise & Shine, is murdered in her dressing room, Celebrity Crimes Investigation Agents Abi and Jake are sent undercover just before Christmas to catch the killer.

  With suspects aplenty, the snow building up outside and the holidays fast approaching, they’ve certainly got their work cut out!

  Chapter One

  “I can’t believe people actually watch this stuff,” I mutter into the agency’s communication’s device tucked behind my ear, easily hidden by my long black hair.

  Jake’s deep chuckle rumbles through in response.

  “I mean, seriously? A chimpanzee that cooks pancakes on live TV? That’s wrong on so many levels,” I grumble.

  “Where’s your sense of fun these days?” Jake replies. “I know you used to have one, but it’s been absent for quite a while now.”

  I stiffen at his words. A sense of humour. Right. Yes. I remember that. It was before...

  Jake interrupts my thoughts and thankfully calls a halt to what could have become a painful trip down memory lane. “So, what do you reckon is on these photos that the Queen Of Daytime TV is being blackmailed with?”

  Instantly pulling my mind back to business, I say, “We really shouldn’t speculate on that, but she’s certainly keen to ensure those photos never see the light of day and is tight-lipped about their scandalous content.”

  Bernie Reivers is the aforementioned Queen Of Daytime TV. A woman with a fierce reputation in the celebrity world which suggests she is not to be trifled with.

  Somebody is trifling with her though, by attempting to blackmail her with photos they have somehow obtained of Bernie doing something she desperately doesn’t want the world to know about.

  Which is where we come in.

  Jake and I both work for the Celebrity Crimes Investigation Agency – the CCIA for short. When the rich and famous are in trouble and need professional investigative help, then they call the CCIA and we’re sent to work on cases such as this one. From blackmail and stalking, to murder and theft, we’ve dealt with them all in the name of putting the bad guys behind bars and making the hectic and demanding lives of those in the media spotlight a little safer and a whole lot easier. We specialise in working discreetly and efficiently, keeping under the radar so to speak, and the agency guarantees results – fast.

  All of which is why Jake and myself are currently pretending to be new recruits behind the scenes on TV Rise & Shine, a tacky morning show fronted by Bernie Reivers, with reputedly as much aggravation, back-biting and sensationalism behind the cameras as there is on the show. I’ve been placed here undercover as a runner – i.e. general dogsbody – for the show, while Jake is doing something on the technical side of things. It should suit him well as I know he has a PhD in engineering, and before he became a special agent with the CCIA he was involved with some highly specialist mechanical technological type stuff in the military.

  Jake strides across the studio towards me, the Rise & Shine fiasco thankfully now finished for another day. “Want to get out of here? We could head for the studio’s cafe, grab coffee and do an update.”

  I nod. “Sounds like a plan.”

  “Oi, you, the new girl,” a high-pitched voice I recognise as belonging to Tallulah, the show’s assistant producer, shouts out. “I need you to run out and do a few errands for me. Now.”

  Jake raises his eyebrows at me. I roll my eyes in response and tilt my head towards the exit. “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear her. Come on, let’s get out of here, pronto.

  I slide into a comfy leather chair next to a low coffee table and watch and wait. Cafe Screen is the station’s own refreshment zone, strictly for those who work here. At a table over by the window, with views over Manchester and the distant Pennine Hills, sits Bernie and what I’m assuming is a male journalist. Hmm. I wonder what that’s about. Is it just a routine interview or are the media vultures already circling? Have rumours of those photos of Bernie somehow been leaked to the newshounds, making them hungry for a story?

  Bernie fidgets in her seat, her body language that of a woman close to the edge of her sanity. I know one thing though, the show’s make-up department deserve a medal because Bernie’s expertly applied TV make-up successfully hides the anxiety I know is ricocheting through her over those contentious blackmail images.

  “Hi, mind if I join you?”

  I turn around to see Kitty taking a seat opposite me – even though I haven’t replied one way or another to her question about taking a seat yet. She’s one of TV Rise & Shine’s junior hosts and researches and presents slots on fashion, baking, crafts, children and beauty.

  “I wanted to ask you a quick question.” She licks her lips and tucks a strand of platinum blonde hair behind her ear. “It’s about Jake.”

  The man in question is, right now, chatting away to the woman sorting out our coffee order over at Cafe Screen’s counter.

  “He’s very cute,” Kitty continues with a hungry look in Jake’s direction. She takes a deep breath then slowly exhales. “Okay, cards on the table time. Are the two of you, like, you know, involved? I noticed you both started work on the show at the exact same time and I’ve spotted the two of you talking quite a bit so...”

  Before I can reply, we’re both momentarily distracted by Jake, armed with a tray containing two coffees and two pastries, heading towards us. He’s easily over six feet tall, has broad shoulders, long legs clad in black jeans, short brown hair and a killer smile. I can totally understand how Kitty has the hots for him. What Kitty doesn’t know is that Jake is close to being one of the top special agents at the CCIA and has nerves of steel. He’s also excellent company, has a wicked sense of humour, an IQ of 146 and a quicksilver mind. Talk about some people being at the front of the queue when the looks and abilities were dished out at birth.

  “So, are the two of you dating or not?” Kitty pushe
s on before Jake gets too close to hear her.

  What Kitty also doesn’t know is that Jake can lip read.

  “Well?” she demands.

  Hmm. There was that time when Jake and I were working a case together out in New York and we were trailing a suspect in Central Park. It was bitingly cold that day and had been snowing. The city was transformed with its light dusting of white and looked amazing. As we’d followed the bad guy along the pathways, we had held hands and pretended to be a couple, purely for cover, of course, nothing else. There had been a spark (on my part anyway, I can’t speak for Jake) but back then I wasn’t in any position to fan those oh-so-dangerous flames and let that spark ignite into a fire. Now... well, I’m still not sure if I am, to tell the truth.

  “Here you go, Abi,” Jake says, setting the tray down on the table. “Oh, sorry, Kitty, I would have got you a drink if I’d known you were joining us. Tell you what, I’ll head right back over there now. What can I get you?”

  Kitty blushes scarlet and jumps to her stiletto-shod feet. “Oh, nothing for me, thank you, Jake. I have to get going. I’m off to do a segment on a craft show at GMEX for tomorrow’s programme. Don’t you just love making things? I’m a real craftie.”

  “A real craftie,” she beams. At my blank expression she adds, “It’s what we call ourselves. You know, people who just love crafting. My absolute favourite is scrapbooking. My sister got married last month and I made her and her new hubbie a gorgeous scrapbook souvenir of their big day.”

  “That sounds...wonderful,” I say with forced jollity. “Well, you enjoy that craft show then.”

  As she scuttles away, Jake claims her vacated seat and begins to devour a Danish pastry.

  “Kitty has a major crush on you,” I say, reaching for my coffee. “She was just asking if we were a thing.”

  Placing the remainder of his pastry on the plate, Jake wipes his hands on a paper napkin and eyes me carefully. “We could have been a thing.”

  I nod. “I know. Another place, another time, and all that.”

  His piercing blue gaze searches my face. “It was too soon, that’s what you said.”

  Rubbing a hand against my forehead, a whole montage of mental video clips from the past race through my mind. Some of them heart-stopping in a good way, others simply heart-breaking. My stomach clenches unhappily and my mouth goes powder dry.

  “That’s what you said, when we were working that case together in New York. That it was too soon for you to contemplate us,” Jake needlessly reminds me.

  “And I was right.” I quickly shake my head in an effort to push away the uncomfortable memories. “Getting involved with a co-worker is a bad idea anyway, especially in this line of business.”

  “It does make things substantially more complicated,” he agrees with an acknowledging tilt of his head before finishing up his Danish pastry. Then he adds, “So, let’s get down to updating each other on the case and our suspects, shall we?”

  “Absolutely,” I reply, glad to get my mind, my emotions and this conversation back into what I would deem safer territory.

  Jake points at the other pastry – the one he got for me – lying untouched on its plate. “Are you going to eat that?”

  I shake my head. My appetite vanished with those little bursts of unpleasant memory flashbacks. “Go ahead if you want it. Thanks for getting it for me though, I’m just not hungry at the moment.”

  Jake doesn’t need telling twice.

  I pull my notebook from my jacket pocket – a fitted black number, teamed with white shirt and dark jeans - and flip through the pages detailing the names of people who might have reason and opportunity to indulge in a spot of blackmailing.

  “We have Kitty – your number one fan – and the show’s reporter and segment host who has made no secret about her desire to take over the anchor-woman role on TV Rise & Shine.” Cheekily I add, “And, it seems, no secret about her desire to spend some quality alone time with you.”

  “Jealous?” Jake grins.

  “You wish.” I bash him on the thigh, knowing we are once again edging into flirting territory; a dangerous place we should be steering well clear of.

  “Hey, I can’t help it if I’m irresistible,” Jake smirks, spreading his arms wide and shrugging innocently.

  “No, of course you can’t. Right. Back to business. We’ve established Kitty has possible motive for trying to oust Bernie – furthering her own career. More than that, we can’t say at present. It’s not like we’ve got a murder to investigate here, where we can pinpoint a time, a place and then establish alibis for suspects. Blackmail can take place anywhere, any time.”

  Pulling out my phone, I flip through images until I come to the one showing a snapshot of the note Bernie was sent by her blackmailer. It’s an old style note – a piece of white nondescript paper with the words in the message pasted onto it, using letters cut from newspapers and magazines. I mean, who does things like that these days? The note itself is short and pretty straightforward:

  We know what you do on Tuesdays. We have photos. Want to keep your secret intact? Pay us £20,000 in cash. Instructions to follow.

  “I reckon they chose the amount carefully,” Jake says, tapping a finger against the screen of my phone. “They could have asked for far more, but kept it to what is – for Bernie anyway – an amount she can pull together in cash at short notice pretty easily.”

  “Because they think there’s a higher probability of them getting their monetary demands met,” I say, nodding in agreement. “I take that to mean the money is more important than splashing these photos all over the world’s media and ruining things for Bernie.”

  “Which suggests our suspect is somebody who needs cash for whatever reason, rather than a person who stands to gain from Bernie’s reputation and career being in tatters thanks to the blackmail images.” Jake leans back in his chair, cupping his mug of coffee in both hands. “Have we got the requested financial background info on each of our suspects back from the agency yet?”

  I scroll through emails on my secure agency phone. “Some, not all. Your friend and admirer Kitty has hefty student loans weighing down on her pretty little shoulders. Twenty thousand pounds certainly wouldn’t clear her debts, though it would ease the financial burden.”

  Jake nods, absorbing this information, his mind clearly working through scenarios involving the blackmailer we are on the trail of, their probable motivations and their mode of operation.

  “Tanya, the disgruntled runner – AKA general dogsbody – on the show, was having what looked to me to be an animated chat with Bernie a little earlier. According to agency HQ though Tanya comes from a wealthy London family, has a trust fund and doesn’t appear to need to resort to blackmailing Bernie for twenty thousand pounds.”

  “Hey, working hard as usual?” a familiar voice chides.

  I look up to see Special Agent Daniel Stone – all Mediterranean dark good looks and oozing confidence – flop into the only free chair at our table.

  “Seems you are too,” Jake counters, and they high-five each other.

  I can’t help smiling at the two of them. Anyone around us in Cafe Screen would never figure these guys as being highly trained agency operatives tracking down criminals. For that matter, hopefully I too slide under the radar on that front. Tall, average build, long black hair and green eyes, an ongoing battle with maintaining the agency’s required fitness levels, and fast approaching the dreaded thirtieth birthday milestone. I might catch admiring glances from guys from time to time, but generally speaking I hope I come across as just your average girl about town. I think that gives me an edge, something I readily turn to my advantage – making me easy to talk to, approachable and unthreatening. I want to come across as the girl next door; your new best friend and confidante.

  On the surface, anyway.

  Agency guys like Jake and Dan aren’t averse to turning on the charm, taking advantage of their handsome looks and engaging in some flirting in the quest
for investigational knowledge and one-upmanship.

  For me though, that’s tricky territory. As a woman in a predominantly male agency like the CCIA, I’m not keen on using my feminine wiles to pursue investigations. I know plenty of other female agents who don’t think twice about it; people like Man-eater Martha, a top special agent and a master at manipulating people.

  Neither Jake nor I ask Dan what he’s doing here at the TV station. We know that cases are strictly confidential. He might be regarded as one of the best and most experienced investigators at the agency along with another elite agent called Charlie Huxton, but Dan is also noted as being something of a maverick. I worked with him on one case out in Hong Kong and Dan landed us both in a police cell with his pushing-the-boundaries investigative style. A phone call to the CCIA quickly sorted it and got us out of there and we cracked the case soon after, but if you get assigned to work with Dan then you know you need to be prepared for rules to be broken on a pretty regular basis.

  “I’m allowed to chill out now,” Dan replies, flashing me a quick smile. It’s a smile that with most females probably renders them all of a flutter. Not so with me though. For some reason I am immune to his charms. I think he might be a little too good looking for my tastes. We’re friends and colleagues but there isn’t even the potential for anything more as far as I am concerned. No spark whatsoever. Strange that.

  My eyes flick across to Jake and my traitorous heart speeds up a little as he chats away with our fellow agent. Leaning forward, elbows on knees, talking animatedly as Dan explains he’s off duty now for a few days, his case complete. Next, they’re talking holidays. Dan going on about how he’s planning to jet off to see his mother in her native Spain for a few days. Jake starts regaling him with tales of last weekend’s surfing trip, enjoying monstrous waves off the coast of Cornwall. Dan instantly demands to know which beach so that he can try it out for himself.