Slay Bells Ring (A Christmas Cozy Mystery Series Book 2)

by Mona Marple

  “Okay. I’ll file a report and see what we can do,” Wiggles agreed, defeated.

  “Thank you,” Peggy-Sue said. She turned and saw me out of the corner of her eye and scowled at me.

  “I’ll wait,” I said with a smile, and sank into one of the plush chairs in the foyer.

  “Of course you will, you arrived after me. I see you’re one of those people who thinks your status means you should automatically go to the front of the queue,” Peggy-Sue said.

  “Not at all, I’m happy to wait,” I said. I’d actually never used my doctor status to my benefit. If anything, the title embarrassed me at times and I often hid it.

  “Good. Because I’m here on important business,” Peggy-Sue said.

  “Let’s get these details down. You say this is an issue with an enormous company? Which one are we talking about?” Wiggles asked, pen poised by his notepad.

  “I bought them from Bruce’s.”

  “Bruce’s Bauble Emporium?” Wiggles returned his pen to the counter and rubbed his temple.

  “That’s the place. You’re familiar with it because he’s been up to no good before, I take it?”

  “I’m familiar with it because I buy my new baubles there every year,” Wiggles admitted.

  “Ah, I see. But can you investigate him fairly?”

  “Peggy, listen…”

  “It’s Peggy-Sue,” she corrected.

  “Sorry, my bad. Listen, Bruce is a one man band. He’s not out to mislead anyone. He’ll have counted these baubles in the pack by hand.”

  “I’m not challenging his ability to count. I want the description changing,” Peggy-Sue insisted.

  Wiggles sighed. “I’ll go and make a couple of phone calls. Wait here.”

  He disappeared from the counter and Peggy-Sue paced the foyer.

  “We have to stand up against these titans of industry,” she muttered.

  It sounded like Bruce wasn’t a titan of anything, but I didn’t want to get involved.

  Suddenly, she stopped pacing and glared across at me.

  “What are you here for, anyway?”

  “Oh, I have to talk to Wiggles about something,” I said.

  “Hmm. I guess you’re aware that The Greasy Spoon is re-opening?”

  “Twisty said he planned to re-open, yes,” I said.

  “It’ll be a better place without Greasy,” Peggy-Sue said.

  “You didn’t get along with him, did you?”

  “I didn’t enjoy his cooking. There’s a difference. I had no opinion about the man behind the ketchup.”

  “But he wrote that article about you,” I said.

  Her eye twitched a little. “What article?”

  “The one in the Chronicles, about the effect your complaints are having on businesses.”

  She scoffed. “I don’t read that rag.”

  “Really? But you have letters published in it quite often.” I asked.

  “I write to the place. That doesn’t mean I read it. I had no idea that Greasy had taken to writing about me. I shall have to request a back copy and inspect his work, I expect his grammar to be as sloppy as his food hygiene,” Peggy-Sue said.

  “I’m not sure that’s a good idea. I think the letter was pretty scathing. Are you sure you haven’t heard about it before?”

  “Absolutely not. I remember everything,” she said.

  “Do you remember how awful it was when the glitter ball fell?” I asked, hoping the sudden change of subject would catch her unawares.

  She scoffed. “I wasn’t there to see. I was discussing an important matter with Mrs Claus.”

  “You were?”

  “The toilets that night were disgusting. I have no idea who was on the cleaning team but they did a shoddy job. I felt a matter of hygiene should be escalated to the highest authority, so I found Mrs Claus and reported it to her.”

  “Right at the time that Greasy died?”

  “Yes. And do you know the amazing thing? I was the only person to mention the toilets! It made me question whether anyone else in Candy Cane Hollow cares about cleanliness. I’ve been extra careful to sterilise my hands since then, I can tell you.”

  “I can imagine. So if someone has a grudge against Greasy, it wouldn’t be you?” I pushed.

  “Of course not. It would be Lila. She’s furious with him for their break up. I overheard her sobbing about it on the night of the Ball. And then, of course, there would be Drayton.”

  My ears pricked up at the name of the man who had been near the staircase. “Drayton?”

  “He wants Sleigh A While to be the venue of choice in town, and his menu is certainly the classier affair. But Greasy had this strange appeal with people. Drayton wanted Greasy out of the way.”

  Wiggles returned to the desk and cleared his throat.

  “All sorted, I hope?” Peggy-Sue asked.

  “I made the call but there was no answer. I’ll give Bruce the opportunity to explain his side of things and then make a decision,” Wiggles explained.

  “Really? You’re not sending a squad car out to arrest him right away? What else do you have to deal with?”

  “Well, I’m practicing for the Figure Skating competition,” Wiggles said with a smile.

  Peggy-Sue scowled at him.

  “Work-wise you mean? I can’t possibly disclose that information. But leave it with me!”

  Peggy-Sue huffed her way out of the police station and I watched as she immediately squeezed some antibacterial gel on her hands after touching the door.

  “Please don’t tell me that you’re here about an odd number of leaves on your poinsettia plant or some other nonsense like that?” Wiggles pleaded with me.

  “Afraid not. I really need to talk to you about Greasy’s death,” I said.

  “What about it?”

  “He was murdered. I’m certain of it.”

  Wiggles let out a long breath, as if I’d just made a bad day even worse. “You’d better come through.”

  He buzzed me through the door to the inner workings of the police station.

  I followed him to his office, a cubby-hole of a room with an MDF desk and a small window looking out over Candy Cane Hollow.

  I lowered myself carefully into the spare plastic chair. The rest of the decor inside Candy Cane Custody was plush and welcoming, and even the rooms inside the jail itself were more like a 4-star hotel.

  Wiggles must have seen the surprise on my face because he said, “I’ve never felt right spending police money on my own room. This furniture was all here when I took over the role and it’s done me fine. A police officer should be out and about anyway, not holed up in their own office. Now, about this potential murder?”

  I reached into my bag and pulled out my phone.

  “You’ll probably remember that I took photos that night? Well, this one shows the clip of the glitter ball. It’s not damaged. None of the chain links are damaged.”

  Wiggles leaned in and looked at the image. “That’s curious.”

  I flicked to the next image. “And here’s the staircase that goes up to the ceiling. Take a look and see who’s about to go up there.”

  “Is that Drayton?” Wiggles asked.

  I nodded. “He never liked Greasy. He wanted to put him out of business. Plus, the man’s awful. I had to get Mrs Claus involved in the way he was treating a female member of staff recently.”

  “You went straight to Mrs Claus?”

  “Well, I rang her to vent really and she insisted on dealing with it.”

  Wiggles chuckled. “Of course she did. Well, I can’t charge a man with murder because he was seen near a staircase. You know that, right?”

  I felt the disappointment twist in my stomach. Of course being near a staircase wasn’t strong enough evidence.

  “But I think you could be onto something, Holly. You’re right that that chain should have been damaged if it had collapsed under the weight.”

  “Really?” I asked with a smile.

  “
It’s worth taking a look at. Good thing you took those photographs. I was ready to write it off as a tragic accident. You’ve got a good instinct for these things.”

  “Thank you!” I gushed.

  Wiggles glanced at his watch and rose from his own plastic chair.

  “Where are we going? Are we going to speak to Drayton now?” I felt the adrenaline flood through my body.

  “Now? Goodness gumdrops, no. I have a rehearsal to get to,” Wiggles said.

  “Rehearsal?”

  “For the Figure Skating competition.”

  “I thought that was a joke,” I admitted.

  Wiggles looked down at his rotund shape and then raised an eyebrow at me. “This right here is the physique of an athlete on the ice. But don’t worry, I’ll go and speak to Drayton soon. Tomorrow afternoon, perhaps.”

  I felt myself exhale with relief. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”

  12

  The thing I had learned about calling a very cold place home was that it created an appreciation for warmth. Any time I could close the door, light a fire, put on slippers, or slide under a blanket, it felt like a real luxury.

  And that’s why I had no intention of waking up.

  “Holly, come on,” the voice repeated.

  I closed my eyes tight and willed myself back to sleep. Whoever that velvet voice belonged to, they had stumbled into the wrong bedroom at the wrong time.

  “It’s important. I know you can hear me. Come on, open those eyes,” the voice continued.

  It was a delicious voice. The kind of voice that could tell me a bedtime story for the rest of my life. But even that kind of voice had no place interrupting the warm cocoon of my sleep.

  “No!” I mumbled as I pulled the covers over my head.

  “Baby, you’ll want to wake up. Trust me,” the voice came again. Insistent little delicious voice, it was.

  “Never,” I said.

  I had never been a morning person, which made my career choice ridiculous. Becoming a GP had at least removed the ungodly shift patterns and on call rota from my life, but I’d done enough of them while training.

  In Candy Cane Hollow my attachment to my bed and my precious sleep schedule had grown. It was just so cold outside of the blankets.

  The voice sighed and I felt the pressure from where they had perched on the end of the bed ease. They were going away. I had fought the battle of my right to sleep in, and won!

  “I didn’t want to have to do this, but it’s time for the ice cold water. That’s the best way to wake up a sleeping beauty,” the voice said.

  I jumped up and peeled my eyes open, then glared at Nick, who was stood at the side of my bed.

  He smiled at me and that irresistible dimple greeted me good morning too.

  “What are you doing here? You’ve never come into my bedroom before,” I asked as the reality of the situation sank in.

  He sat back down on the bed and reached for my hands. “Holly, something’s happened. Wiggles has just called. There’s been a second death.”

  “No!” I cried.

  “It’s true.”

  “Who?”

  “Come on, get dressed and I’ll take you to the station. Wiggles is going to interview the person who found the body and he said he’d appreciate your help.”

  “He did?” I asked in disbelief. I jumped out of bed and quickly washed, dressed and smoothed down my hair.

  We rode across town and I felt jittery with nerves the whole way.

  “Do I look okay? Is this outfit right to interrogating a murder suspect?” I asked as we pulled outside Candy Cane Custody.

  Nick looked me up and down and gave me a smile of approval. I’d gone for muted colours and something that approached professional, which wasn’t easy since my Candy Cane Hollow wardrobe mainly consisted of Christmas jumpers and everything in red and green.

  “You look perfect. I’m not sure this is an interrogation, though. This is the person who found the body, remember. You’ll do great,” Nick said.

  He leaned across and planted a kiss on my cheek.

  I felt my skin flush. I felt as nervous as if I was being dropped off for my first day at a new job.

  I took a breath, got out of the car, and made my way into the police station.

  At the reception desk was an elf who looked young enough to still be in school. His face was covered with angry-looking acne and he was fixing jewels to a piece of fabric with a hot glue gun as I entered.

  “Good morning, I’m here to see Wiggles,” I said with a shaky smile. In the battle between me and my nerves, my nerves were winning.

  “Chief Superintendent Wiggles?”

  “Yes, that’s him! He’s asked for me. I’m Holly. Holly Wood.”

  “Holly Wood? That’s an alias, right?”

  “No, no, it’s my real name,” I said.

  The youth raised an eyebrow. “You’re telling me that your real name is Holly Wood?”

  “That’s right. It’s really quite urgent that I speak to Wiggles.”

  “He’s in an interview. But let’s get back to your name. You do realise that this is a police station? We have records on everyone. I can zap your fingerprint right now and find out your real name,” the elf said.

  “Erm, actually you can’t because I’ve never had my fingerprints taken so I won’t be on your database,” I said.

  “Everyone’s in the database,” he said.

  “Only the people who’ve had their DNA taken for some reason,” I insisted.

  He frowned and placed his glue gun down on the counter. “Is that true? I’m sure it’s everyone. My Aunt Doreen’s on there.”

  “Well, I could be wrong,” I backtracked.

  “Goodness gumdrops! Are you telling me that Auntie Doreen is a criminal?”

  “No!” I exclaimed, but he was typing manically on his computer.

  He hit the Return key and waited a moment, then gasped. “She was interviewed! She was accused of being a serial… a serial…”

  I really wanted to get to Wiggles but I also really wanted to hear what nasty business Auntie Doreen had got herself mixed up with.

  “A serial litterer!” The elf finally exclaimed. His face had drained of colour. Auntie Doreen had just brought shame on his family.

  “Well, if she was just interviewed, that means she was innocent, right? Or she’d have been charged and locked up!” I said with a smile.

  The elf shook his blemished face and grabbed his glue gun again. “There’s no smoke without fire. That’s what I say. I’ll be having words with Auntie Doreen, you can bet your last icicle on that. She always has been a bit wild and free with her refuse disposal - leaves her rubbish bin outside for days after it’s been emptied, she does!”

  “I’m sure a chat will help you get to the bottom of it. Can you buzz me through to see Wiggles now, please?”

  “Oh no. He’s in an interview. I said that already,” the elf said. His attention had returned to his crystals.

  “He needs me in that interview. He’s specifically requested that I come over and assist him,” I said in my most stern voice. I usually saved that voice for consultants who refused to take patient referrals from me. It always worked.

  “No can do, sorry. I never interrupt an interview,” he said. He was clearly made of tougher stuff than NHS consultants were.

  I resisted the temptation to lean over and threaten him with his own glue gun, and instead began to pace the foyer, until an idea emerged.

  “Did you ever read the case papers about that serial litterer?” I asked.

  “What do you mean?” He asked. He laid the glue gun down and I had his attention. Luckily, everyone in Candy Cane Hollow loved gossip.

  “I heard that they never felt they’d got the right person. I was just thinking, maybe it was Auntie Doreen after all,” I shrugged my shoulders.

  He practically flew out of his chair and out of sight in search of the case archives.

  I approached the reception desk an
d checked that nobody else was around, then pulled myself up and over. On the other side of the desk, I was free to explore the inner workings of the police station.

  Unfortunately, the place was like a labyrinth. Corridor after corridor stretched out as if for miles, and I had no idea where to find Wiggles.

  I noticed a uniformed police officer ahead of me and decided to try some false bravado.

  “Excuse me, Constable. Can you point me towards the interview that Chief Superintendent Wiggles is conducting?”

  The officer looked me up and down and I was grateful for my sombre clothes.

  “Follow me, ma’am,” he said.

  He lead me on an intricate path of lefts, rights, and two security locked doors that I’d have had no chance of getting past unaccompanied.

  Eventually, he gave a short rap on the door of Interview C4, then pushed the heavy door open.

  Wiggles looked up at me and gave a slight smile.

  “Thank you,” I said to the officer.

  He grinned at me. “I don’t know how you broke in here, but I figured Wiggles could deal with you. I’ll leave you to it.”

  My cheeks flamed but I entered the room and heard it clunk closed behind me.

  In the interview room were two plush chairs and, across from them, a luxurious sofa. I sat in the chair next to Wiggles and finally looked across to see who we were about to interview.

  13

  “I’ve read Peggy-Sue her rights, although of course she’s here as a witness and isn’t under suspicion at this stage,” Wiggles said, for my benefit.

  “At this stage?!” Peggy-Sue exclaimed from the settee. She looked tiny sitting there, and the fear was written across her face.

  “I have to phrase it that way,” Wiggles said with a smile.

  “Hmm. What’s she doing here, anyway?” Peggy-Sue eyed me with suspicion. I didn’t blame her. Why had Wiggles asked me to join him?

  “Holly here will be assisting in the enquiries. In fact, I have some papers I have to read through, so she may lead the interview after I’ve done the first few questions.”