Secret Snowman

by Alayna Fox

  That’s when I spotted the snowman. It was just across the street from the hair salon right in front of Foster Larkin’s store.

  “I think I recognize that hat. Mason has one just like it.” Mason Field owned the only grocery store in downtown Dream Cove. He still had the original sign out front that his grandfather had put up in nineteen twenty. The store was celebrating its one hundredth year anniversary in May, and Mason had told me he planned several events to celebrate the occasion.

  “Do you think Mason made the snowmen?” Tessa asked as she headed across the street in front of me.

  I hurried to catch up to her, my oversized frame slowing me down. “I don’t know,” I said as I reached the other side.

  A car drove by and I waved at the driver. It was Asher who worked at the curling rink and was loved by everyone who curled there, except Lynette who thought it was time the rink employed someone a little younger. But Asher was quick for his age. He had celebrated his sixty-fifth birthday last Saturday and we were having a small party for him at the curling rink tomorrow night.

  I bought Asher a keychain with two curling rocks on it off the internet. I was excited to give it to him. Maybe Nora would enjoy one herself. I’d have to remember to order another one when I got home. I doubted it would get here in time for Christmas, but at least I could give it to her over the holidays.

  I watched as Tessa lifted the hat off the snowman, and that’s when we found the handwritten note.

  I picked it up and read it to Tessa.

  Secret snowman treasures stuff.

  Chapter 3

  T essa and I got out of the taxi and walked into the curling club. It had been ages since we’d curled last. Eight years in fact. The arthritis in Tessa’s hands had gotten bad, and she couldn’t hold a broom anymore, so she quit the sport.

  I felt bad for my friend, so I quit curling and took up bingo with her instead. I used to tease Tessa that it was time bingo became an Olympic sport like curling. She’d laughed at my joke, but I knew she missed it.

  I wondered how she felt being back at the rink. Memories of the four of us playing on the same team warmed my heart. I could almost hear Jeb yelling at his brother to sweep harder. I was surprised that Carl didn’t tackle him like he used to during their impromptu football games with their high-school buddies. It took several bruised ribs and a few broken bones before the brothers traded a football for a curling rock.

  I looked at Tessa to see if she remembered our time at the rink. A tear flowed down her wrinkled cheek. She turned to me and held onto my right hand. “Do you think they curl in heaven?” she asked as she squeezed my hand.

  “If they do, I’m sure Carl is telling Jeb to stop yelling,” I teased. I wasn’t sure what happened in heaven, but I was sure they were happy.

  “Okay folks, gather round,” the owner of the curling rink said. “Asher should be here any minute. I’d ask you all to hide, but I know most of you have knee and hip issues, so we’ll skip that.”

  Several of the older men laughed.

  “Turn the lights off,” the owner yelled to his sister who stood beside the light switch next to the snack bar. “Everyone be quiet until the lights turn back on.”

  Tessa and I leaned against one of the old couches overlooking the rink and waited for the owner’s signal.

  Five minutes later, Asher walked in and the lights were switched on.

  “Happy Birthday,” we all yelled.

  I thought Asher was going to have a heart attack. He grabbed his chest with his left hand, as he managed to hold onto the cup in his right. He turned to his boss. “I should have known you were up to something. Since when do you drink cappuccino,” he said before bursting into laughter. He handed the drink to the owner who gave him a huge hug.

  Suddenly, Asher was surrounded by well wishers. It took several minutes before I was able to squeeze my way through the crowd. I noticed a receipt on the ground next to Asher. I picked it up and handed it to him before wishing him a Happy Birthday.

  As we were standing around, I spotted Foster by the snack table. I thought it would be the perfect opportunity to ask him about the snowman in front of his shop.

  I still hadn’t had time to ask Mason if the hat belonged to him, but first I wanted to see if Foster had seen the person who’d built the snowman.

  I grabbed Tessa’s arm and dragged her over to Foster.

  “Well if it isn’t Dream Cove’s finest citizens, Pepper and Tessa. How are you ladies this evening?” Foster asked.

  The young man had just moved to Dream Cove in May and I wasn’t sure if I trusted him. For starters, Foster had turned my favorite sewing shop into an antique store, or vintage shop as he liked to correct me. He’d named his shop, Drop by Vintage.

  “How’s the shop doing?” I asked. I wanted to get to my questions about the snowman but felt it would be rude to skip the pleasantries.

  “Great. I decided to specialize in small trinkets for the cruise passenger crowd. My larger stuff tends to sell slowly, but the trinkets were flying off the shelves, especially the nineteen sixty stuff. I guess a lot of boomers are traveling these days.”

  I thought about Helen’s brooch. It would have been the perfect trinket for Foster’s store. Did he make the snowman with the brooch button? Did he steal the brooch from Helen?

  Or did she sell it to him just before she died?

  Either way, why was the brooch on the snowman instead of in his shop? I remembered the peeling pearls. Foster wouldn’t have wanted to sell a damaged brooch. Was that why he put it on the snowman?

  “Foster, did you make the snowman in front of your shop?” I asked.

  He smiled. “Wish I had. Whoever did it was quite the snowman builder. I especially loved the way the person curved the snowballs. They were perfectly round.” He tugged on his blue sweater.

  Tessa squared her shoulders and pointed a finger right at Foster’s chest. “If you didn’t make the snowman, why are you foaming at the mouth talking about it?”

  Foster grabbed a napkin off the table and wiped his mouth. “That’s whipped cream. I had a hot chocolate earlier,” he said as he crumbled the napkin and placed it in the garbage bin next to the snack table. “As for my special interest in snowmen, let’s just say I was the champion snowman maker at my elementary school. Won three years in a row.” He grabbed a glass off the table and poured himself a bit of punch. “Would you ladies like a glass?”

  Tessa wasn’t done with him. “If you didn’t build the snowman, then explain why it’s in front of your shop?” she blurted out.

  Foster’s dark eyebrows narrowed. “Why is this suddenly sounding like an interrogation?”

  I knew I had to step in before Tessa gave away too much information. I’d read a few mystery books in my day, and the lousy detectives always revealed all their clues to the suspects. And right now, Foster was our prime suspect. He owned a vintage shop, and the brooch was a vintage trinket. Not to mention the second snowman had showed up right in front Drop by Vintage.

  Coincidence? I doubted it.

  “Foster, do you know who’s hat this is?” I showed him a picture of the snowman in front of his store.

  He shook his head. “No. But I can tell you what kind of hat it is. That’s an ivy cap. Wish it was from the nineteen thirties. Too bad its not a vintage one. Could have made a nice profit off it.”

  “What makes you think its not a vintage item?” I asked.

  “Yeah, why don’t you want it?” Tessa asked in her loud, bingo voice.

  Foster frowned. “Because the old ivy caps had a triangle shape from the ear to the base of the head. The modern ones don’t.”

  “You’re saying that this isn’t an old hat?” I asked, still not convinced whether to believe him or not.

  “Exactly. The person probably bought it recently.” He rubbed his jaw. “Are you finished with the questions?”

  I noticed Foster eyeing a pretty woman chatting with the curling club owner near the couches. By the look
on Foster’s face, he seemed none to pleased with the competition. “Yes. Thanks for the information, Foster. And if we don’t see you before Christmas …”

  “Yes, Merry Christmas to you both,” he said before he excused himself and walked in the young lady’s direction.

  “He sure was in a hurry,” Tessa grumbled as she poured herself a glass of punch.

  I pointed at Foster’s love interest. “Gorgeous single women aren’t too plentiful in a small town like Dream Cove.” Which made me wonder why Foster lived here. It wasn’t a happening place like Boston. Why didn’t he open a shop there? Was he run out of town for stealing people’s stuff?

  Suddenly I remembered the note we found under the hat.

  Secret snowman treasures stuff.

  Was Foster our secret snowman? He sure did treasure stuff. Old, vintage stuff. Like Helen’s brooch and maybe even the ivy cap. What if the cap wasn’t new? I didn’t know the first thing about men’s hats. Was he telling us a lie to get us off the trail?

  I never got a chance to question him further. We ended up talking with some of the curling players we knew from our days at the rink. Before we knew it, the party had ended.

  Asher offered to drive us home instead of making us take a taxi back to the retirement home. As we were rounding the corner of the building with him, I couldn’t believe my eyes.

  In the center of the parking lot was another snowman. This time, its wooden stick arms were raised in the air.

  And dangling from one wood hand was a necklace.

  Chapter 4

  “W hat is it?” Tessa asked as she got closer to the snowman.

  I gently lifted the necklace off the wooden hand and opened the locket. Inside was a picture of a young mom with her two kids.

  Tessa inched closer to me. “That’s Louisa. She moved to Baker Street down by the docks. Last I heard she was pregnant with her third.”

  Why was Louisa’s locket hanging from a snowman? What in the world was going on in Dream Cove? Did they have a thief on the loose? Was he or she taunting people with their stolen items?

  I closed the locket and put it in my pocket. “Asher, how long has this snowman been here?” I could tell it was a recent creation made sometime in the last four hours. The temperature had been a lot warmer today, and the snowman was intact. Which meant someone made it sometime between five o’clock and nine o’clock. But who?

  “It was here when I arrived. But I don’t remember seeing a locket,” Asher pointed out.

  “What time did you get here?” Tessa asked.

  I shook my head. Tessa’s memory was as bad as her bingo playing. “He got here at six fifteen. Don’t you remember?”

  Tessa looked at me almost surprised that she’d forgotten. “Yeah right. Six fifteen.” She looked at the snowman. “How come I never noticed it?”

  “We were dropped off at the front,” I said as I smiled at my forgetful friend.

  “Right. Taxi. Now I remember. Someone must have spiked the punch.” She winked at me.

  I laughed. There was no spiked punch. Just an aging woman whom I dearly loved. “Asher, do you have any idea who made the snowman?”

  He shrugged his shoulders. “Nope. But it sure is a nice one. Perfectly round.” He patted his stomach. “Just like my belly.”

  “Round. Perfectly round,” I repeated.

  Asher started laughing. “You don’t have to keep repeating it. I know I’m getting a little circular.”

  I shook my head. “Oh, Asher. I was thinking about the snowman and not your tummy.” I eyed his middle. “But you could back off the donuts a little,” I teased.

  He smiled. “It’s not donuts. Ever since my wife started her cake decorating course, I’ve been obliged to help her out.”

  “How about bringing some of that cake to the home? That way we can take a little pressure off you,” Tessa said.

  He smiled. “Sounds good.” He took his curling rock keychain out of his pocket. As he did, the receipt fell out again.

  I picked it up and stole a glance at it. I smiled to myself. Asher got his senior discount. Getting older did have its perks.

  “Why don’t we get you ladies home? My wife went home an hour ago, said something about making cupcakes with my name on them. She’s been spoiling me like crazy since I turned sixty-five,” he told us. “Even took me to Boston for my birthday.” He opened the back door and waited for us to get inside.

  We thanked him and before we knew it, he was dropping us off at the home. We wished him a Happy Birthday and a Merry Christmas as we got out of the car.

  He waved as he drove away.

  “When do we confront Asher about stealing those items?” Tessa asked as she opened the door to the retirement home.

  I wasn’t sure about Asher. “Don’t you find it strange that he pointed out how round the snowman was? Just like Foster. Do you think the two men are in cahoots?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “Nope. Asher worked alone. He was the last to get into the curling rink and could have easily put the locket on the snowman without anyone seeing him.”

  That was true. But why would Asher steal all those items? What was his motive? I suddenly remembered seeing him drive by the second snowman in front of Drop by Vintage. Asher had waved to me as I had crossed the street. Did he make the snowman and was being coy about it? Did he steal the hat from Mason?

  There were too many questions and it was way too late to answer any of them.

  “Let’s get some sleep. My feet are aching, and I have a slight headache,” I said. The only thoughts I wanted to entertain tonight were memories of Jeb and I curling.

  “I told you, someone spiked the punch. That’s why you have a headache,” Tessa pointed out. “My bet is on that fella Foster. Cagey guy. Trying to get two old ladies dizzy.”

  I would have laughed if I wasn’t so tired. “Next time you can bring your own lemonade.”

  Tessa smiled. “Tea not lemonade. I’ll never sleep with all that sugar. Probably toss and turn all night.”

  At least the noise from her bed would drown out Archie’s snoring. His snore was louder than a train horn.

  We went back to our two-bedroom suite and Archie was waiting for us by the door. Before I knew it, I was lying in bed dreaming about curling rocks and my husband yelling, “sweep … sweep.”

  The next day we were walking by the small playground just off the main street when we came upon Louisa and her two little boys. Louisa was in her late twenties and had married her boyfriend just out of high school.

  Tessa had grumbled that they were too young to get married, but I figured if God had a match in mind for you, it was up to Him to decide when you met him or her.

  “Merry Christmas,” I said as I held onto Archie’s leash. He was unusually feisty today, barking at anyone who walked by. Maybe he was getting into the festive season.

  “Merry Christmas,” Louisa returned the greeting as she bent down and patted Archie.

  Her two little boys were more than excited to pat Archie’s back. He wagged his curly tail, enjoying the attention.

  Before I could bring up the topic of the locket, Tessa had whisked it out of my jacket pocket and held it in her hand in front of us. “Did you lose a locket?” she asked.

  I tried not to smile. I loved how my friend said whatever was on her mind. It was a refreshing characteristic that I enjoyed. You always knew what Tessa was thinking, even when you didn’t want to. “We found it on a snowman behind the curling rink,” I told Louisa.

  Louisa stood up and took the locket from Tessa. “I’ve been looking for this for ages. Thought I’d never see it again.”

  The locket caught the youngest boy’s attention. He unzipped his jacket then grabbed the locket and put it around his neck. It rested against another long necklace that he was wearing. He struggled to get the locket open.

  His older brother, who looked about eight, opened it up for him and showed him the picture.

  “That’s us,” the little boy whi
spered to his mom. “Why did that old lady have our picture?”

  Old lady. I could feel the tension in Tessa’s body. Before she had a chance to give the little boy a piece of her mind, I stepped in and said, “This is your mommy’s locket.”

  He seemed satisfied with my answer. “Mommy, you look pretty,” the little boy said. He gave her a huge smile as he held onto the locket.

  “Thanks sweetie,” she said, before adding, “remember Luke, it’s not nice to call people old.”

  “Okay mommy. But can I call the doggie old?”

  “Archie is old,” I told the little boy. “He’ll be twelve in February.”

  His tiny mouth dropped. He took off his mittens. “Does that mean my brother will be old in …” He started counting on his fingers but never made it past three.

  Before the conversation went down an alley that could only spell trouble, I interrupted Luke. “May I ask when you last saw it?”

  Louisa bit her upper lip as she thought. “I think the last time I saw the locket was sometime in early May. I was planning on wearing it on Mother’s Day when I noticed it missing.”

  “Do you think someone broke into your house and stole it?” Tessa whispered.

  The little boy’s mouth fell open again. “Stole it?” He turned to his mom. “Mommy the twelve-year-old lady said someone stole it.”

  I knew we had to leave before Tessa picked up on the old reference. “We’d better get going. Have to get to the grocery store before our baking class,” I reminded Tessa hoping she wouldn’t scold the little boy.

  “Baking class. I forgot,” Tessa said. “I promised everyone that I’d hide the baking soda. Can’t be too careful,” she told me as she smiled at the boys.

  The boys smiled back at her.

  “Luke, can you zip up your jacket?” Louisa asked her son.

  I watched as the little boy fumbled with his zipper. I was just about to help, when Louisa bent down and took off her mittens. Within seconds, tiny bumps appeared on her hands. She hurriedly zipped up his jacket, put her mittens back on, and stood up.