Back Room Bookstore Cozy Mystery Boxed Set: Books 1 - 12

by Susan Harper

  “Dang…even his story doesn’t make him look good,” Brian said. “First on the scene. His pen sticking out of the victim’s eye… We’ve got to find something more concrete than his word.”

  “I know,” Monica said. “How about your meeting with Tiff? How did it go?”

  Brian rolled his eyes. “I wasn’t able to find her. Showed up at the office for the local paper, and they told me she was out in the field. I looked around, and she wasn’t there. She has around five stories she’s working on today, so there really is no telling where she is at.”

  “Dang,” Monica said. “I’m sure we’ll get a hold of her soon enough.”

  “I hope so,” Brian said. “I hope she interviewed someone who might have information we’re lacking.”

  Just as he was saying this, Holly came running up, looking falsely frazzled. “Monica! I need your help with something right now!” she exclaimed.

  “Everything okay?” Brian started to jump up.

  “Oh…um…yeah, everything’s fine… It’s a…a girl emergency,” Holly said, and Brian frowned.

  “Like… Oh!” he said. “Yeah, you do what you need to do.”

  Holly snagged Monica by the wrist. “Let’s go, please,” she said. “Brian, we’ll catch you later, okay?”

  “Um…okay? I guess I’ll see what I can do about finding Tiff,” he said, watching them both dart off.

  “Good one,” Monica muttered to Holly as she snagged her bike, and the two of them disappeared around the corner.

  “Well, you didn’t exactly give me enough time to plan anything, now did you?” Holly asked. “What big emergency do you have exactly that you needed me to get us both away from Brian? We are trying to get Isaac out of jail, you know? And we really need to be focused on that, don’t you think?”

  Monica nodded. “Of course, and I wouldn’t pull our attention away from that unless it was really urgent. Let’s get to the shop, and I’ll explain everything once we get there, and I promise you’ll agree with me that we need to address this.”

  Holly sighed but relented. Once they arrived at the shop, Monica’s Aunt Wilma excitedly made the ladies some coffee, eager to tell them about how she had sold an entire collection of classics. “I appreciate you filling in, Aunt Wilma,” Monica said. “But we may have an emergency on our hands.”

  “I know you have an emergency,” Aunt Wilma said. “Isn’t that why I’m filling in for you? Or are you saying you have another emergency?”

  “Another emergency,” Monica said, hurrying over to the bookstore’s computer. “Hold on, let me pull it up.” She typed in Isaac’s blog’s address. “Holly, when was the last time you looked at Isaac’s blog?”

  Holly laughed. “That stupid thing? I only tell him I’ve looked at it. I rarely do anything more than skim it. It’s probably been a month or two since I actually read anything on it. Why?”

  Monica turned the computer screen around for Holly and her Aunt Wilma to see. “This is why,” she said, showing them the picture of herself flying on her broom. “Look. I’m pretty sure that’s me.”

  “Oh my gracious, Monica!” Aunt Wilma scorned. “How could you let yourself get caught on camera like that?”

  “You can’t tell what it is really,” Monica said. “Not unless you knew… Isaac’s blog claims it’s an alien. And this isn’t the worst of it. He’s got all sorts of stuff just like this on his most recent blogs. It’s all mystic-related activities that he is claiming to be of alien nature. He is getting pictures of actual mystics and doesn’t even realize it. And he’s posting it all online! It’s mostly poor quality, but what if next time it’s not?”

  “Okay, you are right. This is a real emergency,” Holly said, skimming through some of the most recent pictures. “Is…is that a troll in the sewer drainpipe?”

  “Possibly,” Aunt Wilma said, squinting. “This is not good at all.”

  “And look at this. What even is this?” Monica asked, pointing to another picture of the night sky—something else, apart from a witch on a broomstick, flying overhead. “I can’t tell.”

  Aunt Wilma leaned in, and her eyebrows raised. “I know what that is. That there is a reindeer. Big enough to probably belong to you-know-who.”

  “Santa?” Holly asked enthusiastically.

  “But what is a reindeer doing in the middle of Bankstown? It’s not even Thanksgiving yet,” Monica said.

  “People do decorate awfully early these days,” Aunt Wilma said.

  “Aunt Wilma, what does that have to do with it?” Monica asked with a slight eye-roll. “Point is, Isaac is taking pictures of mystics and posting it all online and calling them aliens.”

  “I suppose you see what you want to see,” Aunt Wilma said. “I’m sure every time he sees something unusual, he wants to blame it on aliens.”

  “He doesn’t really believe in this stuff,” Holly said.

  “Are you sure?” Monica asked. “I spoke with him earlier, and it sounds like he was pretty traumatized as a kid.”

  “That’s no secret,” Holly said. “But he got help. He went to therapy and stuff. He doesn’t actually believe in aliens.”

  “So what if he does?” Aunt Wilma asked. “I’m sure he would think you’re nuts if you went and started talking to him about witches, werewolves, and jolly old men in red suits.”

  “So, Santa is real, then?” Holly asked.

  “Point being, proving that something isn’t real is a lot harder than proving that something is,” Aunt Wilma said. “Now, I’m not sure where I stand on the whole extra-terrestrial debate. Frankly, the world is a lot stranger than mortals are led to believe. I think you of all people should know that, Holly. Until just a few weeks ago, you never would have believed in witches, am I right? And now here you are wondering if you may be one yourself.”

  “I suppose that’s true,” Holly said.

  “So, don’t give the man too hard of a time if he does believe that there is something else out there,” Aunt Wilma said. “That being said, what he is snapping pictures of is certainly not of alien nature. They are mystics. He just thinks it’s all alien. We can’t have Isaac posting this stuff all online. Someone is bound to put two and two together. Mortals are a lot smarter than we mystics like to give them credit for.” Aunt Wilma looked at the shadowy picture of the reindeer. “Now, I am very curious about this one. His blog said he took this picture just a few days ago. So, what is a reindeer doing in the middle of Bankstown?”

  “Not sure,” Holly said. “But that might would help explain the North Pole elf in my apartment.”

  “Did you feed it plenty of cookies?” Aunt Wilma asked. “Monica, you know what those things turn into if they go too long without sugar when they are away from the North Pole.”

  “Believe me, I’m aware,” Monica said. “And, yes, we baked it plenty of cookies, and Abigail is watching it.”

  “So, reindeer and North Pole elves… Something is up,” Aunt Wilma said.

  “Yes, it’s all a grand mystery,” Holly said, plopping down on the stool behind the counter. “But, honestly, I’m still way more worried about Isaac being falsely accused of murder. We need to get him out of jail.”

  “You know, while I’m not so sure about how I feel about aliens, there is something I don’t believe in, and that is coincidences,” Aunt Wilma said. “He takes a picture of a reindeer and suddenly gets framed for murder right around the time a North Pole elf shows up in Holly’s apartment. Any chance these things could be connected?”

  “I hadn’t even thought about that,” Monica said. “What if Isaac taking all these pictures has somehow made him a target for mystics?”

  “You think a mystic could be behind the stabbing?” Holly asked.

  “If someone was really worried about being busted because Isaac is poking his nose where it doesn’t belong, putting him behind bars would certainly put a stop to the blog,” Monica said. “Maybe a mystic framed Isaac to keep him from writing his blog posts? What do you think, Holly?
”

  “I think that makes this case a lot more complicated,” she said. “How are we supposed to prove Isaac is innocent if the real killer is a mystic? The police are never going to believe that in a million years.”

  “Step one is finding out what actually happened. Then we will worry about what to do if we discover that a mystic is behind this,” Monica said.

  “Agreed,” Aunt Wilma said, and she began scrolling through some of the pictures that Isaac had taken. “Well, that there is Mr. Johnson, the troll, hiding out in the sewer. I know him…temperamental, sure, but not smart enough to frame someone of murder. So, I don’t think you have to worry about him.”

  “What about the reindeer and elf?” Holly asked. “They wouldn’t frame Isaac, would they?”

  “Doubtful,” Aunt Wilma said. “I mean, the thing about reindeer and elves is even if someone saw them face to face, they’re going to think there is some trick or decoration or just a regular deer dressed up as a reindeer or a little person in a costume. It’s genius, really. They have free range during the holiday season. Because of that, I doubt one of them would have hurt Isaac over something like that. They wouldn’t have cared if he had snapped their picture and showed it to the whole world, because the only people who would have thought they were an actual elf and reindeer are children. That being said, North Pole elves who haven’t had an appropriate amount of sugar in their diet when away from home can get a bit testy. If the elf happened upon Isaac’s pen, he might have hurt someone with it.”

  “Then maybe we should go talk to the elf,” Monica said.

  “Talk to it?” Holly asked. “That thing couldn’t talk. All it has done is growl and hiss at me. I doubt it’s going to be able to communicate anything to us.”

  “It was growling and hissing because he hadn’t had enough sugar,” Monica explained. “We left plenty of cookies at your apartment for the thing to snack on. I’m sure by now, it is probably back to its usual self. I say it’s worth a shot to see if it knows anything. Even if it’s not the guilty party, it might be able to tell us who is behind what happened to Luke. Especially if another mystic is responsible.”

  “Good idea,” Holly said in agreement. “And, to be frank, I really would like to ask this elf some questions about his boss.”

  “You are really into this whole Santa thing, aren’t you?” Aunt Wilma asked.

  “So, Santa is real, then?” Holly asked, still waiting on absolute confirmation from her two witch friends.

  Monica opened her mouth to speak, but before she could say anything, the front door to the shop opened.

  10

  Monica and Holly were just about to leave the bookshop to head to Holly’s in order to check in on their little elf visitor when the shop door flung open. Standing there in their way, nearly bumping clear into them, was Tiff. “Whoa!” she exclaimed. “Sorry, I saw that you were about to leave through the window, and I was trying to catch you before you left.”

  Monica raised a brow. “Who, me?” she asked.

  “That’s right,” she said, pulling out a small tape recorder from her purse. “I don’t suppose you mind chatting with me for a moment?”

  Holly frowned. “About what?”

  “Oh, yes, you too, of course, Holly,” Tiff said. “I forgot Isaac told me you worked here now. I’m still following the murder of Luke for the paper. Readers are going to want an update, and a little birdie told me that you were helping the police with the investigation.” She immediately hit the little red button on the side. “So, tell me, do local authorities make it a habit of asking random citizens to help them out on murder cases?” she asked, pointing the recorder toward Monica.

  “Don’t answer that,” Holly said quickly and pushed the recorder away. “Tiff, we were actually hoping to talk to you. We heard that you interviewed a lot of people the night of the murder. Anyone tell you anything that could help with the investigation?”

  “Are you also helping out the police with the latest homicide case?” Tiff asked, starting to point the recorder toward Holly again.

  “Okay, you’re going to have to stop doing that,” Holly warned.

  “Sorry,” Tiff said, at last putting the recorder away. “Bad habit. Yeah, I spoke with a few people here and there, but honestly, I didn’t get much out of anyone about what happened before the murder. Everyone had something to say about seeing Isaac being arrested…which stings, because I wasn’t going to use any of those quotes I got. Not about to make Isaac look bad on purpose.”

  Monica smiled. “So, you don’t think that Isaac is guilty?”

  “Of course not!” Tiff exclaimed. “Isaac wouldn’t hurt a fly. I can’t believe anyone would think it for a second, not even Jehu. I spoke to him that night, and he was totally convinced that Isaac killed Luke. I asked him what evidence he had to support that theory, and he told me this whole tale about how they were so mean to him when they were kids. I know Isaac really well, and he’s not exactly one to hold a grudge. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  “Absolutely,” Holly said.

  “I’ve been trying to find someone who can tell me something to help me…well…do what you two are doing, really,” Tiff said.

  “And what exactly do you believe we’re doing?” Holly asked.

  “You’re trying to help Isaac!” Tiff yelped, causing Aunt Wilma to peer out from behind a bookshelf. “And that’s just what I’m trying to do. No way he hurt Luke. I don’t believe it for a second. He is innocent. He’s too sweet…” Tiff’s cheeks turned a bit red.

  “Oh,” Monica said, now catching on. “Are you his work-wife or something?”

  Tiff put her hands on her hips. “Funny.”

  “I wasn’t trying to be funny,” Monica said. “You two work together. I’m sure you’re very close.”

  Tiff sighed. “Yeah, you could say that. Honestly… I’ve always liked him…a lot actually. But it’s pretty obvious he likes someone else. Not that it makes me bitter toward him or anything. I just… He’s really great…” Her face was as red as a tomato.

  “It’s okay. You don’t have to be so embarrassed,” Monica assured her. “We love Isaac. Holly is his best friend, and even though I haven’t known him that long, I count him as one of my better friends. He’s a good guy. It’s no wonder you like him.”

  “I’m kind of embarrassed now,” she said. “I came here to interview you, and now I’m talking about some stupid work crush.”

  “It’s not stupid,” Monica assured her. “The police are working hard to find out what really happened that night at the Turkey Trot—you can put that in your paper. Don’t worry, we know the officer who is working the case, and he’s not going to stop until he finds real evidence to help clear Isaac and bring the real killer to justice.”

  Tiff smiled. “Thanks for saying that. I’ve been really worried about him. This whole thing kind of woke me up, you know? I mean… What if he goes to prison and I never said anything to him about…well…you know. How I feel and all… How stupid is that?”

  “You’ll get your chance. I’m sure of it,” Monica said. “But we have to get back to Holly’s apartment. We left my cat there, and she can sometimes get a little antsy when left alone in new places. I don’t want her to destroy half of Holly’s place.”

  “Oh, of course,” Tiff said. “Go right ahead. Do what you need to do.”

  Monica and Holly left the bookshop, and Monica could immediately hear Holly’s grumblings. “She must think we’re stupid. She expects us to believe she came here because she is worried about Isaac? That she’s got some sort of crush on him or something? No, she came here because she was being nosy and was trying to pin us down for another angle for her to run with this story.”

  “I don’t know,” Monica argued. “I did see the article she wrote for today’s paper. It said that the police jumped too quickly in arresting Isaac. She was very opinionated for an article in the paper, and I felt like it usually isn’t that way. She obviously likes him. I wonder if he knows
that?”

  “Why?” Holly asked a bit too quickly.

  Monica stared back at her friend for a moment. “Do you?”

  “Do I what?” Holly asked.

  “Never mind,” Monica said with a slight sigh. The two of them hurried back across town toward Holly’s apartment complex, and once inside, Holly was a bit mortified to discover that half of her furniture was flipped completely upside-down and Abigail was taking a nap in the kitchen sink.

  “Abigail!” Holly wailed. “You were supposed to be watching it!”

  Abigail, waking up in a daze, yawned. “I was. I just waited a bit too long to give him the last batch of cookies. He settled down again. Looking a lot less like a little hairy troll now. He’s in your bedroom.”

  “My bedroom!” Holly shrieked and darted across the apartment, followed closely by Monica.

  They flung the bedroom door open, where they immediately spotted the elf, a little two-foot-tall creature with long, pointed ears dressed in green with accents of red, bouncing up and down on the bed. It let out a loud, “Woohoo!” each time it bounced, doing a little backflip occasionally.

  Though its teeth were still sharp, its tongue a bit serpent-like, and its eyes a solid black, it did have a lot less monstrous of a look. Its body hair was gone, and its features were less rigid—more like the cuddly little elf one would come across in a children’s Christmas storybook. “Woohoo!” the elf shrieked two more times before Monica and Holly reached it.

  Monica put her hand out, catching the little guy by the shirt collar. She then whipped out her wand and pointed it to his face, and he began kicking his legs about. “Whoa, whoa, whoa!” he squeaked. “Easy, there, witchy-poo! Whatcha need little elfy to do? Sorry I caused such a plunder. But I cannot help but to wonder—”

  “Oh my gosh, they talk in rhyme,” Holly said, her mouth hanging open.

  Monica, still pointing the wand to the little guy’s face, gave him a wicked glare. “Okay, I’m going to need you to start talking. What are you doing here in Bankstown?”