The remaining guests made a quick retreat, with Roy and Troy being the quickest. In fact, they’d abandoned all of their belongings, only to be found later in their room. The police poked through the items, but they turned out to be a generic pile of dress shirts and underclothing. Cecelia was disturbed to find there were no toothbrushes, however Frank did discover a couple of dog-eared copies of Agatha Christie’s Poirot mysteries. Cecelia supposed that was a wash.
It was with great relief when the bed-and-breakfast was finally quiet again. Cecelia smiled at Oscar and patted the cushion on the love seat next to her. Oscar rose from his arm chair, and, after making a quick trip to the fireplace to add some wood and to turn up the music, finally came to sit next to her.
“So, no guests tonight?” he asked.
“I thought my rooms were filled for the week. Even sweet Sarah took off, no doubt spooked by nearly spending her holidays with mafia men, investigators, and a murderer.” She sighed. “And I had that lovely lunch planned.”
“Well, I’m feeling a bit peckish.” Oscar smiled at her. “And your pot pie is heaven on earth.”
“Even cold?”
“Even anything, as long as I’m with you.”
She reached out to stroke his face, now so dear to her. He could act like an old coot, but she knew him for who he really was. Kind. Smart. Considerate.
“You should bring Peanut over here for some lunch as well,” she suggested.
He eyed the falling snow. “You don’t mind?”
“You two are a package deal. I already know that.”
Oscar kissed her cheek, relishing how soft it was and how sweet smelling she was, and then stood up. He tugged on his hat, squared his shoulders, and walked out to brave the snow.
She squeezed herself next to the Christmas tree and watched him from the big living room window. The tinsel tickled her face and she let out a sad sigh. They’d completely forgotten to finish decorating Oscar’s tree in all the ruckus. She thought about calling him to say she was on her way over when he returned to the porch with Peanut tucked under his arm.
And something else. A brightly wrapped Christmas present.
She grinned as he locked his door, before she darted away to her own room. In a moment she had her own gift, much smaller, which she tucked behind one of the cushions in the loveseat.
It was a few minutes before Oscar returned. He was letting Peanut do her business before scooping her up and carrying her to the door. Cecelia opened it before he had a chance to knock.
“Do you have a towel? The varmint’s feet have collected snowballs,” he said. And then for good measure he turned the dog around and pointed at the posterior. “And her butt.”
Cecelia laughed. “Bring her in. I’m sure we can get her dry. If not, I’ll stick her in the tub.
It took more than a few minutes with the hairdryer on low to melt the snow chunks, but eventually they all fell off. Then she dried the dog, who squirmed happily, and bundled her in a clean towel.
Oscar cradled the dog for two seconds before the wriggling animal made it impossible to hold her safely. She wanted to get down to explore and right now!
He set her down where she skidded out of the bathroom like she was a race car pumped full of 110-octane leaded fuel. She charged straight down the hall and into the kitchen. From there she ran into the living room, circled the couch two times, and slid to a stop in front of the Christmas tree. With a happy yip, she looked for her owner, her tongue hanging out in a contented doggy smile.
“Make yourself home, Peanut!” Cecelia called.
Oscar cleared his throat.
“I mean Bear!” Cecelia amended.
Oscar rolled his eyes and grabbed Cecelia’s hand and brought her to the love seat. Then he retrieved the package he’d left in the foyer and, with a heavy breath of someone who was doing a lot of exercise, set it heavily in her lap.
“Merry Christmas to the cutest cookie-making, sweet-smelling, smart, funny, creative woman I’ve ever met. God gave me a gift in letting me meet you.”
“Oh, Oscar.” His compliment took her breath away. Cecelia had met his wife years ago, before she’d passed. She knew what a wonderful woman she was. Tears burned her eyes. “Thank you.” And then her eyes sparkled. “But don’t think for one moment that I’ve forgotten about that lasagna you owe me.”
He harrumphed. “Just open it.”
She did open it to discover a small flat box inside the big one. Glancing at him, a little apprehensively, she slid her fingernail under the tape and opened the small one.
Inside was a piece of paper. She plucked it out and pulled her readers up on the chain and placed them on her nose. It was an itinerary. Her lips moved silently as she read.
“Oh my goodness!” She finally exclaimed. “Is this real?”
“You deserve it,” he said. “Two weeks on the Royal Caribbean. They have a spa on board. I reserved the entire treatment.”
Her hand dropped to her lap. “It’s too much.”
“Not at all too much. Besides, I’m going as well. In my own cabin,” he added, quickly.
She laughed, and he grudgingly said, “Right next to yours. Anyway, you are always doing stuff for others. Always putting people before yourself. I wanted to do this, to let you know that I see you. I hear you, and you are so important to me.”
“Oscar….” She didn’t say more, instead letting her kiss do the talking. It was quite a few minutes before she broke apart from him with a start. “Oh, my goodness, I have something for you as well!”
She dug behind the cushion and pulled out the tiny box. But as she held it, Oscar noticed her hands were trembling.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Yes.” She bit her bottom lip and looked decidedly Not Okay. He reached for the box and she would not let go. Chuckling, he gave it a little tug.
She hung onto it like a mouse with a piece of cheese.
“You want to give this to me or not?”
Her eyes were wide and maybe a little scared as she looked at him. “I don’t want to upset you.”
“Honey, you couldn’t upset me. Especially with a gift.”
“I’m serious, Oscar. This is coming from a pure place in my heart. Please know I care about you.”
Well, with a build up like that, now Oscar was nervous himself. He eyed the box. In his FBI career he’d been around more than a few bombs, and he didn’t think one ever scared him half as much as this little red-ribboned gift.
Suddenly, he didn’t want it. He had a feeling that whatever was inside was about to change everything. He liked his life. For the first time since his boys had disowned him, he was finally having hope. “Let’s save it for later,” he said, thinking maybe he would hide it away and claim it was lost.
His suggestion seemed to empower her decision, and she thrust it in his hands. “No, open it now.”
He glanced at her and then at the box. Slowly, he shook it, noting the rattle inside.
“Go on,” she said, smiling now. “Open it.”
He took in a deep breath and pulled at the ribbon. It untied in one movement. With gentle precision he slid the wrapping open and pushed out the box.
It was white cardboard, the same type as the paste jewelry came in that his boys used to buy their mom.
He opened it and stared at the white pad of cotton.
Cecelia let out a little giggle.
He glanced at her and slowly removed the cotton, half expecting something to jump out at him.
Inside was a pink flamingo. He stared at it, blinking, and then turned a perplexed glance at Cecelia.
“It’s a keychain,” she said. “Take it out!”
He removed the metal painted ornament from the box and let it swing in the air. His eyebrows rumpled together, and he was so confused he could hardly think to form the question why?
“I heard from Georgie, who heard from her best friend Kari that the Flamingo Realty in Brookfield is getting a new real estate agent.” She l
eaned back, puffed with pride.
“You?” he asked, his throat feeling dry.
“No, Oscar. Someone else. Someone very near and dear to you. Someone who is flying in from Seattle.” She rested her hand on his. “Someone you deserve to get to know. Your granddaughter.”
Oscar felt faint.
“You’ve been patient, and you’ve given everyone space. But it’s time to figure out your family. Time to move forward. I’ll help you do it.” Her thumb gently caressed his.
He saw the determination in her eyes and believed her. His gut feeling had been right after all. He wondered at his sons— he loved them so and it broke his heart that they would never forgive him. Yet, how could they, after what he had done?
This item in the box was indeed a link to a permanent life change.
Still, secrets run deep. Deeper than he ever imagined. And he could never have expected the rollercoaster that was waiting for him right around the corner.
Also by Cee Cee James
To read more about Oscar’s adventures, check out the Flamingo Realty Mysteries. Find out what secret is separating his family. Will his son’s ever forgive him?
Mind Your Manors
A Dead Market
Home Strange Home
Duplex Double Trouble
MidCentury Modern Murder
With Killer Views
Baker Street Mysteries— Join Georgie, amateur sleuth and historical tour guide on her spooky, crazy adventures. As a fun bonus there’s free recipes included!
Cherry Pie or Die
Cookies and Scream
Crème Brûlée or Slay
Drizzle of Death
Slash in the Pan
Oceanside Hotel Cozy Mysteries—Maisie runs a 5 star hotel and thought she’d seen everything. Little did she know. From haunted pirate tales to Hollywood red carpet events, she has a lot to keep her busy.
Booked For Murder
Deadly Reservation
Final Check Out
Fatal Vacancy
Suite Casualty
Angel Lake Cozy Mysteries—Elise comes home to her home town to lick her wounds after a nasty divorce. Together, with her best friend Lavina, they cook up some crazy mysteries.
The Sweet Taste of Murder
The Bitter Taste of Betrayal
The Sour Taste of Suspicion
The Honeyed Taste of Deception
The Tempting Taste of Danger
The Frosty Taste of Scandal
About CeeCee James
She is a two time USA Today Best Selling mystery author with her hands full with miniature dachshunds and grandkids. Her favorite hobbies besides writing include reading, painting and hiding rocks, crocheting, and making miniatures. Connect with her readers’ page on facebook, and follow her on BookBub and Amazon for flash sales and new releases.
Aunt Cecelia’s Christmas Star Breakfast Bread
1 package active dry yeast
1/4 cup warm water
3/4 cup warm milk
1/4 cup butter, softened
1 egg at room temperature
1/4 tsp vanilla
1/4 cup granulated sugar
pinch of salt
3 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
3/4 cup raspberry jam
Or- 1/2 cup of sugar
1TBS cinnamon mixed the 2 together
3 tbsp butter, melted
1/4 cup powdered sugar
Mix the water and yeast in a small mixing bowl. In a separate mixing bowl, beat butter until it’s smooth. Mix in egg, milk, sugar, and salt into the butter until smoothish. Once the yeast and water is foamy, add into the second bowl and continue to mix.
Transfer dough to a well-floured surface. Knead it a few minutes or until it becomes smooth and elastic. After kneading, transfer to a greased bowl and cover. Let it rise in a warm place for about an hour or until the dough has doubled in size.
Once dough has risen, divide into four balls. Take the first dough ball and roll it out into an approx. 12" circle. Place on a large sheet pan or pizza stone. Transfer 1/3 of the jam onto the dough (or cinnamon topping) and spread around, leaving 1/2" of space all the way around. Roll out next dough ball and put on top of first. Layer on jam or other topping. Repeat with one more dough balls and the remaining jam. With the last dough ball, roll it out and put it on top, but do not cover with jam.
Once the dough and jam have been layered, place a 2" circle (circular cookie cutter) leave a mark in the middle without cutting all the way through. From there, use a knife to slice the dough away from the circular mark, like sun rays. Make16 even cuts.
Take two pieces right next to each other and spin them outward twice. Pinch ends together like the top of a flower petal. Repeat for the remaining strips.
Cover and let rise for about 1 hour. Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Once dough has risen, bake for about 20 minute or until the top start to turn golden brown. Brush with melted butter, and serve warm. Options- sprinkle with powdered sugar or cinnamon and sugar.
YUM!
CAT’S PAWS AND CURSES, A Vampire Knitting Club Holiday Whodunnit, Copyright © 2019 by Nancy Warren
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Thank you for respecting the author’s work.
ISBN: ebook 978-1-928145-66-0
Cover Design by Lou Harper of Cover Affair
About this Book
In this classic closed room mystery, someone is murdered during a knitting class. But how was it possible? Lucy Swift and her band of undead knitters must catch the culprit before there's a second Christmas catastrophe!
When someone is murdered at a holiday knitting circle at Cardinal Woolsey’s knitting shop in Oxford, it’s soon clear to amateur sleuth Lucy that the culprit is one of the knitters. This is a fun take on a classic closed room mystery. If you enjoy it, the best way to keep up with new releases and special offers is to join Nancy’s newsletter at nancywarren.net.
1
There is a phenomenon that occurs all over the British Isles toward the end of December. It turns grown men into virtual toddlers and seems to bring out the fool in even the most serious people. I refer, of course, to the Christmas jumper. This is what we Americans would call a Christmas sweater, but for some reason in the UK, the uglier the sweater is, the better. Don’t ask me.
It was one of the stranger of the British customs I was trying to understand.
I’d become used to living in Oxford now that I’d been in that beautiful city for more than a year, but I didn’t think I’d ever become entirely comfortable with the Christmas jumper, even though I owned a knitting shop. There was plenty of business to be had in providing wool and patterns for those garish, cartoonish sweaters featuring things like Christmas puddings, reindeer, snowmen and elves.
Even places where you would hope your business would be taken seriously, like banks or dentist’s offices, looked more like daycare centers when in the grip of Christmas jumper fever. There was something particularly disconcerting about having someone come at you with a dental drill while wearing a lumpy, bumpy bright red sweater with a badly knitted reindeer in the middle of it.
However, I was never one to turn down business and, at my grandmother’s suggestion, I’d put together a few kits specifically for those who wanted to try making their own Christmas jumpers. My gran might be one of the undead members of the vampire knitting club that met twice a week in my shop, but she’d owned the shop before I inherited, and she liked to keep her hand in.
Since I was a novice shopkeeper as well as a novice knitter, I happily listened to her advice. She’d suggested we’d get more business if I offered classes on knitting such a jumper, but I decided to institute a Christmas knitting and crochet circle instead. This way, anyone could come along and bring whatever
project they were working on without expecting me to teach them anything.
The knitting circle was immediately popular with customers who were knitting or crocheting presents for loved ones who lived at the same address. It was also a good chance to sit busily working away for a few hours on a project while chatting with other, like-minded craftspeople.
And so, every Tuesday night between seven and nine, I invited any of my customers who wished to come and join me in the back room of my Oxford knitting and yarn shop, Cardinal Woolsey’s.
There was a core group who came every week, and it was augmented by those who dropped in sporadically.
I had been slightly unnerved the first time Mabel and Clara had shown up for the knitting circle. They were both vampires who lived underneath my shop. There was a trapdoor that led from the back room down into the tunnels that wind beneath Oxford. My downstairs neighbor vampires were all excellent knitters, having had years—and in some cases centuries—of practice. The vampire knitting club met after ten o’clock, supposedly two nights a week but in reality whenever they felt like it.
There had always been an unwritten rule that the vampires had to stay out of my shop when humans were about. Not that any of them were great rule followers, but I tried to separate the daywalkers from the nightwalkers as much as possible. Fortunately, my vampires weren’t hunters any longer. They didn’t have to be. They had their own blood bank to meet their nutritional needs, and they’d had a lot of years to perfect their way of life. They were sleek, well fed, and rich. Their biggest problem wasn’t hunger. It was boredom. Knitting helped while away the hours of an existence that would last for a very long time.
However, Clara and Mabel had the same problem as knitters who lived aboveground. They were working on holiday gifts for other vampires and wanted them to be a surprise. At least, that was the reason they gave me for wanting to join the human knitting circle. I liked Mabel and Clara, and in theory they’d be a great addition to the circle, mainly because they were much better knitters than I and could answer any questions or untangle any knitting disasters. Probably mine.
Six Merry Little Murders Page 18
