5 Mischief in Christmas River

Mischief in Christmas River

A Christmas Cozy Mystery

by

Meg Muldoon

Published by
Vacant Lot Publishing

Copyright 2014© by Meg Muldoon

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance whatsoever to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Other Works by Meg Muldoon

The Christmas River Cozy Mystery Series

Murder in Christmas River: A Christmas Cozy Mystery
(Book 1)

Mayhem in Christmas River: A Christmas in July Cozy Mystery (Book 2)

Madness in Christmas River: A Christmas Cozy Mystery (Book 3)

Malice in Christmas River: A Christmas Cozy Mystery (Book 4)

Roasted in Christmas River: A Thanksgiving Cozy Mystery Novella

The Cozy Matchmaker Mystery Series

Burned in Broken Hearts Junction: A Cozy Matchmaker Mystery

Coming February 2015
:

Busted in Broken Hearts Junction: A Cozy Matchmaker Mystery

Coming March 2015:

Malarkey in Christmas River: A Christmas Cozy Mystery (Book 6)

Mischief in Christmas River

by Meg Muldoon

Prologue

There was something wrong in the backyard.  

The woman had been rushing around all day, doing things in the house he didn’t understand. Pushing a long pole with bristles on the end across the wood floor. Spraying something sharp-smelling on the countertops. Suspending long strips of colorful paper across the walls.  And then there was that machine making all the noise that the woman pulled across the carpet. He didn’t much care for that machine, rumbling the way it did, roaring so loud that he had trouble hearing over it.   

But there was one good thing to come out of the woman’s strange behavior. The house was filled with the most delicious smells, all of them seeming to originate from the kitchen. He didn’t know what the smells signified, nor could he identify them. All he knew was that he wanted to eat whatever was making that meaty aroma. So much so, that he could feel saliva drip from his chin when he thought about it. The hard kibble in his bowl sat untouched most of the day while he dreamed of the food, just out of reach, in the kitchen. 

Then, a little while after nightfall, the doorbell started ringing. Strangers came into the house, bringing with them all sorts of smells. A few of them rubbed their hands on his head. A few of them he recognized.

The woman was busy speaking to them, her energy fast and frantic. She was stressed, he could sense it. But it was the kind of stress that she often had, and it didn’t trouble him.

What troubled him was his chances of getting whatever was cooking in the kitchen before the others did, and before the other little dog that had stayed with them the night before did. The one that barked all the time and didn’t make a whole lot of sense.  

He was thinking about all of this when he heard the noise outside.

It was faint. The talking by the strangers had almost obliterated it completely. But he heard it, nonetheless. The sound of a twig snapping. Coming from the woods behind the house.

He lifted his head and sniffed the air.

He caught a whiff of something, something faint. Something that smelled… unnatural. Not a smell he was used to sniffing back there in the woods. The rancid aroma of those black and white oafish-looking creatures, or the earthy smell of those big creatures that had those long spidery crowns atop their heads.

No, this smell didn’t belong to any of them.

He caught another whiff of it.

He didn’t like it.

He looked at the woman and then started barking. She held a finger up to her mouth. The other little dog started barking too, though he sensed that the new dog didn’t know what he was talking about, and was joining in just because he could.

“Shh… Huckleberry!” the woman said between gritted teeth.

She wanted him to stop. And normally he would have listened to her command. But the dog knew that this was too important.

He barked until his voice felt scratchy and cracked, until he was hoarse. The woman gave him food from the kitchen, which he paused to eat, but the food was no longer what he wanted.

“Woof! Woof! Woofff!!!”

The woman wasn’t listening.

He suddenly sensed eyes on him. Something staring at him through the see-through door, from somewhere out in those woods.

The eyes wanted something from him.

The woman had to be warned.

“Woof! Woof! Wooofff!!!”

The other little dog joined in.

But the woman didn’t understand. She sighed, and looked at him the way she had the very few times he had disobeyed her.

But she had to know.

She had to know what was out in the backyard.

He kept barking.  

Chapter 1

I looked past my frozen breath, hanging in the air like the word clouds in a cartoon, and stared up at the bubblegum pink sign above the shop.  

My jaw came unhinged without me having any say in the matter. I felt my eyes bulge as I reread the words on the sign again.

Pepper’s Pies, Pastries, and Other Pick-me-ups!

And then my eyes dropped down, finding the banner strung below the sign.

Grand Opening Today!

I suddenly felt as if I might lose the slice of Chocolate Bourbon Pecan Pie I’d eaten back at my own shop for taste-testing purposes all over the sidewalk.

A middle-aged woman abruptly bumped into me as she passed by, her overflowing shopping bags hitting the back of my legs. I stumbled forward, then waited for an apology, but one never came. The woman just went on her way, too caught up in the December shopping frenzy to care much about anybody else.

Sometimes, this time of year could be just
too
much. Even for a town where it was Christmas all year round.

The Humane Society Cocker Spaniel I was walking, which the shelter manager had named Chadwick, growled in the rude woman’s general direction. I tightened up the leash, afraid that he might have more to say to her if he was given the chance.

Maybe I would have been more bothered by the stranger’s poor behavior if I wasn’t so distracted by something else at the moment.

I glanced up again at the new sign.

For weeks, I’d been watching from across the street as movers and plumbers and electricians came in and out of this shop. The storefront had been sitting vacant for almost a year, having been a men’s clothing store for almost forty years before that. The clothing store recently went out of business when Harry Pugmire Sr., the owner, passed on at the ripe age of 96. Someone had bought the old musty shop this fall, and had gone a long ways toward renovating it.

There’d been lots of rumors in the meantime about what was going in there. But it had been a mystery, for the most part.

Until now.

I felt my stomach tighten as I peered in the shop window.

It was shortly after the lunch hour, and the tables inside
Pepper’s Pies
were all full. Hordes of holiday shoppers were sitting around, laughing, drinking coffee, eating croissants, eating turnovers, eating brownies.

Eating…
pie
. 

I swallowed hard, a sick feeling rising up from my gut and through my throat.

I had thought this place was going to be a coffee shop or a bagel place or a hole-in-the-wall restaurant.

I didn’t think that it would be a pie shop.

Directly across the street from
my
pie shop.

Just then, the bakery’s front door opened, and a pleasant burst of warm, sugary air hit me in the face. A woman in her mid-20s wearing a pink apron and with hair the color of embers held the door open, stepping near me.

Her apron read “Pepper’s Pies.”

“I promise we don’t bite,” she said, her perfectly shaped lips curling up into a glowing smile.

“What?” I said, feeling as though I’d been jarred awake.

“I saw you standing out here, and I just thought you might need an extra nudge to help you get inside the door,” she said. “And since it’s the grand opening today, if you’re not 100 percent happy with my pies and pastries, I’ll give you your money back. No questions asked.”

I felt my mouth go dry.

“You’re, uh, you’re Pepper? The owner?” I said.

“Sure am. Now what do you say to a nice hot slice of pie?”

I felt my face go numb.

It was like I was in some sort of bad
Twilight Zone
. A parallel universe where this town had two pie shops, instead of one. And that the pie shops were right across the street from each other, almost mirror images.

But instead of being in some nether part of a strange universe, my feet were firmly on the ground, here, in this universe’s Christmas River.

This was actually happening.

I swallowed hard, about to tell her who I was, but I struggled to find the basic words of introduction.

“I, uh, I… well…” I started, looking down at Chadwick.

He wagged his tail at the woman, and she leaned down for a moment, patting his head.

“What a
precious
dog,” she said, scratching behind his flappy ears.

Chadwick sat down, loving every moment of the attention. He didn’t even growl, the way he usually did when a person he didn’t know started petting him.  

“He’s not mine,” I said abruptly. “I just volunteer at the Humane Society, is all. Sometimes I walk the dogs.”

She stood back up and smiled, dusting her hands off on her apron.

“That’s nice of you,” she said. “I wish I had more time to do something like that in the middle of the day. But you know, I’ve got to run the business here.”

And I don’t?
I thought.  

“Sure I can’t tempt you and your friend here with some pie? I’ve got some doggy biscuits inside too.”

I shook my head hard.

“No, I’ve got to get back,” I said, all the friendliness that was usually in my voice having drained away completely.

I started pulling on Chadwick’s leash. The dog was stubborn, though, and didn’t want to leave the friendly woman. He pawed at her legs for more attention.

“Aww,” she said, looking down at him.