Snowed Under

Home > Other > Snowed Under > Page 23
Snowed Under Page 23

by Rickie Blair


  “Croissant? Is that new?”

  “No. They’ve been making them for centuries in France.”

  I made a face at her while lifting the mug to my mouth. “Never mind the pastries. Tell me what the competition was doing here.”

  “If you mean Rick, he’s not the competition. In fact, we’re planning a joint sales campaign.”

  I spurted tea onto my parka, hastily putting down the mug. “What? How did that happen?”

  “He suggested it. Right after explaining how those reviews ended up online.”

  “Did he write them?”

  “No. It was Gloria.”

  “Lucky Lentil’s Employee of the Month? Who wanted to check out the wallet owners on social media to see if they were cute?”

  “That’s the one. She bribed the delivery guy—he also delivers to the Lentil—to plant that butter vat in my storage room and take a photo of it. Turns out Gloria had a crush on Rick, and believed that would get his attention.”

  Rebecca. Shanice. And now Gloria, I thought, shaking my head. Were there any women in the village who didn’t have a crush on Rick? “And did it?”

  “Yes, but not in the way she hoped. When she told Rick what she’d done, he fired her. And came over here to apologize.”

  I picked up my tea and sipped it, mulling this over. “It’s not a bad thing to have another vegan shop across the street. Economists call it ‘clustering.’ If shops selling the same type of goods locate near each other, the added choice draws more customers overall.”

  Emy plucked a chocolate croissant from the display with a pair of tongs, dropped it on a plate, and slid it across the counter with a grin. “That’s what Lorne says. They covered it in his business courses. Rick and I are planning a village-wide promotion.”

  Tearing off a chuck of pastry, I popped it into my mouth. I hoped there would be no guerrillas involved in this marketing venture. Leaning against the counter, eyes closed, I savored the burst of chocolate filling, grateful that Emy hadn’t given up butter at the 5X.

  “Did you hear about Noah and Rebecca?” she asked.

  Instantly alert, I swiveled around to place both elbows on the counter. “Tell me.”

  “They’re on a one-month cruise to South America. Left yesterday. Apparently, it’s Noah’s last-ditch effort to, you know—”

  “Save his marriage?”

  “Exactly.” She paused. “He bought Rebecca a new designer tote bag, too.”

  We both chuckled, and I nibbled at my croissant. In Eco Edibles next door, the doorbell tinkled. “What can I get you?” we heard Shanice ask.

  “She’s still here?” I whispered, eyebrows raised.

  “Why would I ask her to leave? Shanice was only trying to protect the bakery. And she’s promised to restrict her butter sculpturing to the fall fair.”

  “What about Rick?”

  “He’s completely devoid of female companionship at the moment.”

  “That won’t last.”

  “I know.” We stifled our laughter when Shanice popped her head through the passage to say, “Verity—I thought I heard your voice. How are you?”

  “Great,” I said, adding a friendly wave. “And you?”

  “Couldn’t be better.” She withdrew her head, I assumed to return to the customer.

  I swallowed the last of my tea, set my cup on the counter, and zipped up my parka. “Time to walk the dogs.”

  “How’s that going?”

  “Pretty good. Although, every once in a while I have to return somebody’s wallet.”

  “What about your investigation agency?”

  I grimaced. “Jeff was not happy about the outcome of my first case.”

  “What do you mean?” Emy smirked. “You cracked that case wide open.”

  By the time I’d walked the dogs and returned home with Boomer, Jeff was lifting a huge cardboard box out of his pickup truck in the driveway. Holding the box, he leaned in for an awkward kiss.

  “Is this where I say, ‘Honey, I’m home?’” I asked, after stretching over the carton to manage a peck on his cheek.

  “No. That’s my line.”

  “Already you’re bossing me around.” I pointed to the box. “Is that the last of it?”

  With a nod, he followed me inside—where he dropped the box on the floor, shucked off his parka, and wrapped his arms around me for a lingering kiss. Afterwards, I leaned my head against his shoulder, inhaling the scent of his Old Spice, comforted by the embrace of his arms, willing that moment to last forever.

  Until I noticed the cardboard boxes stacked in the foyer. And the hall. And—as far as I could tell from where I was standing—the dining nook, the bedroom, and the kitchen.

  Springing back, eyes wide, I gestured at the cartons. “We agreed on clothing only—plus any kitchen stuff you absolutely had to have. What’s all this?”

  Apparently amused, he grinned. “Clothing—and kitchen stuff I absolutely had to have.”

  “I meant your clothing, not the entire neighborhood’s. In my whole life, I’ve never owned this many clothes.”

  He grinned. “I’ve been meaning to mention that.”

  “I wouldn’t if I were you.” My lips were twitching, and it was hard to maintain a stern expression. Glancing around, I added, “Are you going to put this stuff away?”

  “Absolutely. But first—” He shoved aside a couple of boxes to reveal two printed with the familiar logo of a Scandinavian self-serve furniture store. “I have to put this wardrobe together.”

  I stared, unable to speak, panic welling in my throat. “Jeff,” I wailed finally, pressing a finger to the throbbing vein in my neck. “You’re not moving in. Not really. This is only a trial run. So that you don’t have to go home to change your clothes. And now—you’re putting furniture together?”

  “Come here.” He held out his arms. I snuggled into them, trying to breathe. “Everything will be fine,” he whispered. “Don’t forget. I love you. And I always will.”

  “You better.”

  He tightened his grip.

  Much later, I curled up on the sofa with Boomer tucked in beside me. The General—unaware I’d observed him touching noses with the enemy—perched on the back of the sofa, pretending to be indifferent. From the bedroom came the occasional whirr of a power tool, followed by hammering, followed by a muttered oath. The curse of the Norse furniture gods, I assumed.

  Smiling, I turned the pages of Sleuthing for Beginners—A Handbook. Maybe my first case had been a disaster, but that didn’t mean I was ready to give up.

  My cell phone beeped with a text. It was Emy at the bakery.

  Emergency. Get down here.

  What’s wrong? I texted back.

  Stranger. Asking for Verity Thorne.

  My stomach ran cold while I stared at the screen. Hawkes was my mother’s maiden name, and the one I’d used since childhood. Few people in Leafy Hollow even knew the other one.

  B right there, I texted. And vaulted off the sofa.

  “I’m going to the store, Jeff—I’ll be back soon,” I called as I hurriedly tugged on my boots with one hand and opened the front door with my other.

  He stuck his head out of the bedroom, looking harried. “Okay.” He disappeared again.

  After pushing open the door of 5X Bakery, I shot Emy a raised-eyebrow glance from the threshold. She tilted her head in the direction of a man standing by the far wall. He was studying the notices pinned to the bulletin board with his back to us. The waxed canvas field coat he wore was totally inadequate for the weather.

  I slammed the door closed, causing the overhead bell to jangle loudly.

  He turned around, focusing laser-blue eyes on me. His face was heavily lined and deeply tanned. A grim smile briefly cracked his skin, but vanished just as quickly.

  Emy, pretending to dry glasses behind the counter, watched intently.

  I swallowed heavily, willing my stomach to settle before I spoke his name.

  “Hello, Frank.”
r />   “Verity.”

  We exchanged glares.

  Finally, “Why are you here?” I asked.

  “I need your help. It’s a matter of life and death, or I wouldn’t have come.”

  “You’ve got a lot of nerve coming here, asking me for help.”

  He shrugged.

  Still glaring, and without turning my head, I spoke again.

  “Emy. This is my father.”

  * * *

  THE END

  * * *

  To receive advance notice of upcoming books and special offers, please join my mailing list at www.rickieblair.com.

  * * *

  Reviews are very important for the success of a book. If you enjoyed Snowed Under, please consider leaving an online review.

  Also by Rickie Blair

  THE LEAFY HOLLOW MYSTERIES

  Snowed Under is the fifth book in this cozy mystery series. If you like lovably quirky characters, deceptively idyllic Canadian villages, and twists you won’t see coming, then you’ll love The Leafy Hollow Mysteries.

  From Garden To Grave, Book 1

  Verity Hawkes is a shut-in. After two years bunkered in her apartment, the only thing that gets her out is the disappearance of her beloved but eccentric aunt. As she takes over her aunt’s landscaping shop, she’ll need to go from hoarder to horticulturist in a hurry…

  Her new home of Leafy Hollow is quaint, except for her most obnoxious client. When a series of freak accidents kills the customer, all signs point to Verity as the killer.

  The hunt for answers is on, and Verity must question a tipsy carpenter, a bacon-peddling vegan baker, and her dreamy landscaping competitor to keep her new life afloat. Failure to find the truth could put her back in a confined space for much more than two years…

  Digging Up Trouble, Book 2

  Verity Hawkes misses her recluse lifestyle, but she’s finally starting to settle in as Leafy Hollow’s resident landscaper. At least until a village-wide cupcake battle helps turn one new visitor from a skeptic to a corpse in record time. When her friend’s crush shockingly confesses to the crime, Verity is once again asked to investigate…

  Potential clues come in as fast as the suspects: a documentary film director, a wacky artist, and a feral-cat enthusiast, to name a few. It turns out everyone in town has skeletons in their closet… even her new friends. If Verity doesn’t find out the truth soon, then the next local legend buried in the ground… could be her.

  A Branch Too Far, Book 3

  Verity Hawkes’ new life in Leafy Hollow almost feels whole. All the self-taught horticulturalist lacks are her Aunt Adeline and a stable relationship. Just when the second missing piece seems like it might be falling into place, Verity’s sleepy town welcomes back an all-too-familiar killer…

  Suspicions run rampant when a body is found at the base of Pine Hill Peak, and the mother of Verity’s best friend is the number one suspect. To keep the wrong woman out of prison, Verity must rub shoulders with an arsonist, a hunky lawman, and a pair of dueling pastry chefs. When a scandal from the past threatens her investigation, Verity must act fast before the peak of her life becomes a valley…

  Muddy Waters, Book 4

  Verity Hawkes can hardly remember her reclusive past. She’s actually starting to enjoy her role as the small town’s resident gardener and unofficial super sleuth. Her blossoming relationship with a dreamy local detective certainly doesn’t hurt matters. But Verity can’t help but question her place in town when a group of kidnappers steal away a beloved citizen and single her out to handle the ransom…

  After the deal goes south, it’s clear to the Leafy Hollow gardener that larger forces are at play. Between dealing with a rogue agent, a meddling ex-boyfriend, and an underground Botox clinic, she knows that nothing is as it seems. To dig up the conspiracy, Verity may just have to get her hands dirty…

  Snowed Under, Book 5

  With Leafy Hollow in a deep winter freeze, landscaper Verity Hawkes is all out of funds. Setting up a private investigator business seems like the best way to indulge her fantasy and make a few bucks. But she never expected her first case would turn the whole town against her.

  As she investigates a shady, million-dollar crossword competition, even her detective boyfriend sides with her neighbors in thinking it’s legit. But when the contest seems to connect with scruffy dog walkers and a missing investment adviser, Verity hopes she can solve the clues before the whole town descends into a scammy word-smithing frenzy. Between vegan food scandals and a village hoarder biting the dust, the landscaper-turned-PI has her hands full.

  With time running out, can Verity discover the phantom killer before the culprit makes it two down?

  Book 6

  Sign up for my newsletter at rickieblair.com to receive advance notice of the next book in the series.

  THE RUBY DANGER SERIES

  If you like fast-paced action, believable heroines, and breathtaking twists, then you’ll love this series of gripping financial thrillers. (Note: The Ruby Danger books include mild language and some adult situations, although they’re less violent than most thrillers.)

  Dangerous Allies, Book 1

  No one invites the mob on their second honeymoon… Ruby Delaney is at the bottom of a spiral. After the death of her sister, the young actress turned to booze to numb the pain. Desperate to reconnect with her husband and get her life back on track, Ruby embarks on a luxurious second honeymoon cruise. Everything is going well, until she makes a surprising discovery in their cabin: $20 million in bonds!

  When she’s set up for a crime she didn’t commit, Ruby’s only chance is a series of impossible escapes to clear her name. With the help of a few surprise allies, and a bit of luck, Ruby might just have a shot… if she can live long enough to solve the mystery.

  Dangerous Benefits, Book 2

  When fraudbusters Ruby Delaney and Hari Bhatt track a murder victim’s stolen money to Paris, they uncover a surprising link to one of Wall Street’s biggest names. The partners race to determine the truth, unaware they’re being watched by someone who will go to desperate lengths to hide a lethal secret.

  Dangerous Comforts, Book 3

  After the tragic consequences of their last case, fraud investigators Ruby Delaney and Hari Bhatt have lost the desire to expose cheats and con artists—or to risk their own hearts.

  But when a body is found in the home of a missing casino employee, the estranged partners must join forces to find the victim’s terrified killer. Hari and Ruby embark on a desperate race through the underground tunnels of Las Vegas, pursued by a deadly adversary who’s hunting the same man.

  About the Author

  When not hunched over her computer talking to people who exist only in her head, Rickie spends her time taming an unruly half-acre garden and an irrepressible Jack Chi. She also shares her southern Ontario home with three rescue cats and an overactive Netflix account.

  Contact Rickie at rickieblair.com or on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/AuthorRickieBlair/

 

 

 


‹ Prev