Murder at the Snowed Inn

by Imogen Plimp

  “Ah the sweet, poetic justice…” Ry mused, grinning.

  Al slapped their arm playfully.

  “Are you kids gonna go skiing while you’re here?” Evelyn changed tack enthusiastically. “Do you ski?”

  “I fall down,” Ry answered dryly.

  “Well, it’s good snow for it!” she replied. “Nice and thick and fluffy!”

  “Speaking of snow…” Emma raised her tea cup. “Here’s to you, Claire. To your new beginnings. And to being snowed in with good friends—old and new,” she beamed at each of us over her thick spectacles.

  We all raised our cups in a toast.

  “It’s certainly been an adventure thus far,” I countered, grinning only slightly nervously.

  “Well then…” Evelyn added with gusto, lifting her cup higher. “May your adventures continue.” She paused and looked at me mischievously. “But may they be slightly less murder-y.”

  “Hear, hear!”

  The End.