Traveling Town Mystery Boxset

by Ami Diane

  Silently, Ella reached over and tapped the screen. A second later, the picture flickered and showed a blurry view of his abdomen. His eyebrows pinched together as he mumbled under his breath about the “wonders of technology.”

  Overhead, gray clouds floated across peeks of a late afternoon blue sky. It was the first break of nice weather they’d seen since the entire town jumped to its new, current location. It was partly the reason why Wink had decided to close up the diner early. Ella wasn’t so sure sledding at break-neck speed warranted closing a restaurant early on a Friday night, but she had little experience to back up this assumption.

  She breathed into her gloves, rubbed them together, then turned a slow circle. Wink’s house sat perched on the top of the hill a few yards away. A sweeping landscape of craggy, snowy mountains that made Ella feel like she was reliving the opening scene in The Sound of Music surrounded the town.

  The snow itself reminded her of the night she’d arrived in the small village. Her car had hit a snowbank, putting it out of commission. She’d wandered into Keystone Village, a quint town that looked like it was straight from the 1950s (because it was), and stayed the night in the large manor-converted-inn.

  At first, she’d thought the locals unfriendly due to their enthusiasm to get her to leave. However, what she had mistaken as coldness had been them trying to save her from getting stranded when the town jumped.

  Soon after her arrival, light flashed like a dome over the town. When it had dissipated, they were in a new location—and a new time. Now, just like the other citizens, she was a woman out of place and out of time.

  Her eyes fell from the snowy vista to a picnic basket Will had pulled out from his pickup. Ella scrounged inside, her mood picking up considerably when she discovered Wink’s cranberry scones.

  Crumbs cascaded down her jacket as she greedily shoved the pastry in her mouth. Despite the fact that it was no longer warm, it melted in her mouth.

  Inside the wicker basket, she located a thermos as well. Her eyebrows rose as she unscrewed it.

  “That’s Flo’s hot chocolate,” Will said.

  The words had just registered as she swallowed the first gulp.

  “Holy mother of pearl!” Ella spat the liquid all over the snow. “This stuff could peel paint off a house. I’m not even sure there’s chocolate in here… wait. Stewart told me chocolate was scarce here. Said we couldn’t grow cacao in the greenhouses or something.”

  She peered into the dark thermos. “If this isn’t chocolate, then what is it?” Will opened his mouth, but Ella held up her hand. “You know what, I don’t want to know.”

  The mystery liquid sloshed around as she screwed the lid back on and returned the spiked “cocoa” to the basket.

  “Where did Flo wander off to, anyway?” she asked. “Not that I don’t mind she’s not here. Heh, maybe we should, you know, call this off. If she’s sick or something, we could always wait another day. Or never. That’s always an option.”

  “She’s still in the house. Said she had to use a mirror to put her hat on.”

  Ella withheld a shuddering breath, not wanting to know what that meant. Although they’d ridden up together in Will’s classic marine blue Chevy pickup, Flo hadn’t been properly attired for the weather, but rather had a bundle of coats and scarves in her lap that she said she’d put on once she got to Wink’s house.

  “Oops.” Will’s fingers swiped across the phone screen several times, each movement more frantic than the one before. He’d managed to open up Ella’s contacts and was currently trying to dial her mother.

  Ella ignored the stabbing pain of homesickness as the phone failed to find a signal. She jabbed a finger over the red icon to hang up the phone and opened the camera app back up.

  “Maybe I should hang on to that—”

  Will danced the device out of her reach. “No, I got it, I got it.” He held the camera up.

  “That’s Wink’s eye. Zoom out. No. Now, that’s her butt.”

  Before Ella could try another attempt at retrieving the phone, a creaky voice floated over the snow from somewhere up the steep incline.

  “Alright, I’m here. Let’s do this.”

  Ella shielded her eyes against the glare of the snow and found an unnaturally tall figure waddling down towards them—waddling mostly due to several layers of jackets.

  Ella’s gaze traveled up Flo’s Marshmallow Fluff body and snagged on her head, more specifically the hat that covered her beehive. Unless the local general store carried winter hats several feet long, this assault on fashion had been specially knitted to accommodate Flo’s tower of hair, hair so tall it blotted out a gray cloud overhead.

  “My God,” Ella whispered. “Marge Simpson has nothing on you.”

  “What are you on about?” Flo’s breath came out in rattling huffs, despite her approach being all downhill.

  Shooting out her arm, Ella snatched her phone from Will.

  “Hey—”

  “Hold on. I want to see if I get any reception off Flo’s head.”

  “Haha,” Flo tutted. “At least I don’t look like a poodle.” Her hand primped the knit cap as if she could somehow fluff up her hair through the thick yarn.

  Reluctantly, Ella handed the phone back to the inventor. “At least I’m not a hazard to planes flying overhead.” She laughed at her own joke, held her hand up for a high five from Will, and said, “Oh, burn.”

  Three sets of eyes stared at her in confusion.

  “Really? Nothing?” Ella’s smile froze in place, and her hand lingered. Reaching over, she freed up one of Will’s hands from her phone and forced it to give her a high five. “That’s it. There we go.”

  Wink clapped her hands together, the sound mostly muted due to her mittens. “Alright, you two. Look alive. We’re ready.”

  “One moment.” Flo rummaged through the picnic basket and took a very long swig from the thermos.

  Ella side eyed Will who was subtly shaking his head. Using the sleeve of her top layer of jacket, Flo swiped the brown liquid from her mouth and instructed the inventor to be sure to pack the basket in his pickup when he drove down to meet them at the bottom.

  Then, she shuffled over to the sled and attempted to straddle it. When that failed, she clambered on. Her feet slipped on the wet wood and flew out from under her, resulting in her haunches hitting the chipped seat with a thud.

  “Close enough,” Wink said as she gracefully mounted the front.

  Ella approached the rickety looking thing warily. Not only was it an antique sled, like the one seen in Citizen Kane, but it wasn’t even a gently used antique like most objects found around Keystone.

  With a sigh, she looked over at Will. “You recording?”

  “Yes. Wait, no.” He fumbled with the screen, his mouth turning down. “Now, I’m recording.”

  “This message is to my parents—”

  “Just get in, you scaredy-cat,” Flo said.

  “Hey, that’s offensive. At least in my time.”

  “Is it?”

  “Actually, I’m not sure.” She looked at Will. “Remember me fondly. Also, if Flo survives, don’t let her get my Bluetooth stereo. Pretty sure she’d turn it into some kind of spectral receiver or whatever.” She heard the old woman mutter about that not being a bad idea.

  “Can I have it, then?” Will’s eyes danced with humor but had a note of sincerity.

  She shrugged and said, “Sure.”

  After straddling the sled she mentally dubbed Rosebud, Ella dropped to her backside and squeezed in between Flo and Wink. Then she wrapped her arms around her boss so tightly she feared she might crack a rib.

  “Why am I stuck in the middle?”

  Flo’s voice floated over Ella’s shoulder, smelling strongly of her not-chocolate drink. “Wink’s gotta steer, and I need to run the engine.”

  Ella’s stomach dropped to somewhere beneath the sled, the older woman’s words confirming her fear. “Engine? Puppies, why does this thing need an e
ngine? I’m pretty sure the hill is so steep, mountain goats wouldn’t climb it. Also, in case anyone cares, I believe we’re on a collision course with the greenhouses.”

  She pointed at the many dozen roofs below. They seemed far enough away to be innocuous, but Ella had learned from experience that whatever can go wrong in Keystone, will go wrong in Keystone.

  “Don’t worry,” Wink said, shifting her weight around. “The ground naturally curves about halfway down. It’ll steer us away.”

  “Sure, sure.” Ella closed her eyes, her lips moving in silent words as she muttered curses about the two women’s lineage and began a mental inventory of her earthly possessions and who would get what.

  “Ready?” Wink hollered over her shoulder.

  “Ow, I’m right here. No need to shout. And no, I’m not ready.”

  “Ready!” Flo yelled from behind Ella.

  “Crap, you two. I’m going to go deaf.” She glanced over at Will in a silent plea. He shot her a thumbs up, nearly dropping her phone.

  Ella opened her mouth to tell him to be careful, that her cellular couldn’t survive a dip in the freezing accumulation, but the words were forced to the back of her throat as the sled teetered and took off.

  The first fleeting thought that raced through her mind as the vehicle of death gathered speed was that she should’ve worn a helmet. The thought flitted away a second later when her cheeks began to flap then came around again when Flo turned on the motor.

  It let out a throaty cough before roaring to life. The sled kicked with the extra horsepower, and Ella’s eyeballs were sucked into the back of her head. Water streamed from her tear ducts and traced across her cheeks, whether due to the air blasting against her naked eyes or actual tears of fear, she couldn’t be sure.

  Evergreen trees blurred past. At first, she had been able to make out bark and branches, but now, they were just a general tree-shape as they slid past at Mach five.

  Her breakfast threatened to launch back up, and her fingers dug into Wink to the point she could feel what the woman ate last Tuesday.

  Beneath her, the sled vibrated and bounced with each minute bump in the snow, ensuring that Ella would never be able to sit again.

  Sometime between her heart nearly stopping and her tongue tasting colors, her eyes had squeezed shut on their own accord. She peeled one open and chanced a glance over Wink’s shoulder to see what lay ahead.

  Her heart climbed up her throat.

  Below, their route ended abruptly in the tree line that surrounded the greenhouses.

  “Uh,” she shouted in Wink’s ear so her friend could hear her over the raging wind and motor, “when is the sled supposed to turn?”

  The air nearly whipped the words away as Wink yelled, “Back there!”

  Ella wasn’t sure where “there” was, but the fact that it had already passed was concerning, on top of the note of panic edging Wink’s voice.

  “That’s what I thought. Just wanted to check. Also, maybe now’s a good time to try turning?”

  Wink had been plying the handbrakes like they were going out of style. “I’m trying! Lean! Tell Flo to cut the engine!”

  Ella tilted her body and relayed Wink’s command. The roar of the engine stopped, and a blessed silence followed, save for the ringing in Ella’s ears.

  For a moment, relief flooded her. The sled drifted a hair to the right, and their speed cut—not much, but it was something. Then, she spotted a drift shaped like a ramp, dead ahead.

  “Turn!” Ella screamed.

  Her feet came off the sled, and she dug the heels of her boots in as best she could. Her footwear stuttered and built up their own drifts. But she was too late.

  The sled hit the drift-turned-ramp at a blistering speed. Ella felt weightless, floating through the air with her friends, as she watched the sled fall away beneath them. She was flying like Superman, only without a cape and superpowers and marginally better hair.

  A high-pitched scream she’d never claim as her own issued from her mouth. Wind whipped her hat off. Snow rolled by far below. She was somersaulting, glimpsing a tree growing larger with each roll.

  Ella braced for impact. Instead of hitting the Douglas-fir, however, her shoulder brushed the bark as she flew past. She slammed into the snow, forming a perfectly shaped human hole three feet deep.

  Groaning, Ella lay on her back, staring up at the snow-ladened boughs, cursing in several languages, and even throwing in a few words she made up on the spot.

  Above, one of the boughs bent, and before she could move, a load of snow slid off and dumped over her face, burying her.

  She swallowed a metallic taste and rolled back and forth like a beached seal until she broke free of her snowy coffin. As she rolled, she felt an arm.

  “Wink? Flo? You okay?”

  “I’m alright,” Wink’s muffled voice drifted from another mound of snow five feet to Ella’s left.

  “Flo?”

  A groan followed by swearing told Ella Flo was alive and somewhere behind her. She craned her head around to see the older woman nearly upside down up to her waist, her legs wriggling in the air as she struggled free.

  “Man, I’m glad you didn’t wear a dress today. Anyone have a change of underwear—” Ella froze.

  “El, you okay?” Wink staggered to her feet, a line forming between her penciled eyebrows.

  Ella looked at her boss, standing a few yards away, then she twisted around, spotting Flo rolling out of her snow mound, also several yards away.

  Saliva lodged in her throat as she swallowed.

  Slowly, her eyes dropped to the spot in the snow beside her, the spot where she’d definitely felt an arm.

  Ella’s voice came out hoarse, whispering, “No, no, no. Not again.”

  She scrambled onto her knees, her gloved hands furiously digging at the snow, slowly excavating a hand as blue as a Smurf.

  “Wink, help me.”

  Wink dropped to her knees, followed by Flo. All three of them dug carefully. They slowed when Flo’s hand pulled away rust-colored snow.

  After several minutes, they sat back on their haunches, breathing heavily and staring at vacant eyes and an ax buried in a man’s head.

  CHAPTER 2

  ELLA WATCHED GRAY clouds march across the sky. Despite the fact that no flakes fell, she tasted snow in the air. It was the scent of winter and Christmas, the taste of pumpkin spiced lattes and the sound of Bing Crosby singing White Christmas.

  She breathed in the moment, let out a breath that formed a cloud in front of her, then her eyes fell to the body and half-dozen people loitering around.

  Pauline, the coroner and town doctor, searched one of a dozen pockets covering her puffy jacket—most of the puffiness accounted for by the bulging pockets. When that one failed to produce what she was looking for, her hand probed another. And another. Two bruised bananas, one rubber ducky, and several tongue suppressors later, she finally pulled out a pair of gloves and began to examine the body.

  “You didn’t touch it this time, did you?” Sheriff Chapman tipped back the brim of his derby hat, leveling his penetrating blue eyes on Ella, the kind of eyes that could see into a person’s soul.

  “No… did you want me to touch the body?”

  “Why would I want you to touch it?”

  Her shoulders lifted in a shrug, but her heart wasn’t in the movement.

  He hooked his thumbs in his belt loops. “I just figured since last time—”

  “That was to be sure Stan was dead. Pretty sure this guy’s dead.” She nodded towards the corpse. “I don’t know, maybe it’s the glazed-over eyes, blue skin, or ax in the head. Call me crazy.”

  She winced at how insincere she sounded. Humor and sarcasm were defense mechanisms for her, but sometimes, they made her sound callous. The man half-covered in snow was someone’s family. Someone’s friend.

  Nearby, Wink loitered under a tree, rubbing her hands together and stomping her boots to keep warm. A few steps away, Will stood, hi
s hands jammed into his pockets as he watched the proceedings, his mouth turned down. Beside him, Flo leaned against a tree, taking nips from her thermos every time the sheriff turned away.

  Ella cleared her throat, searching for something to say, anything to fill the heavy air. “At least Will wasn’t with me when we found the body this time, right, Will?”

  The inventor stirred and nodded, saying, “That’s progress, I suppose.”

  “Right,” Ella agreed, turning back to Chapman. “Well, maybe not progress so much as a lateral move. But still, it’s something.”

  Chapman’s fingers worked over his handlebar mustache as he stared at her. Eventually, he broke his gaze, but only after she began squirming.

  “Alright, Wink,” the lawman drawled. “How’s about you and I have a chat first?”

  He led her a few yards away to a clearing beside the nearest greenhouse. Ella couldn’t make out his words, but his voice, deep and full of gravel, carried easily across the chilly breeze.

  As Pauline brushed aside more snow from the victim, Ella’s eyes were drawn to the carnage despite her best efforts to look away. The unfortunate man stared up at the sky, blood in frozen rivulets around the wound.

  Ella was no detective, but unless the man was capable of hitting himself in the head with an ax, there was no doubt he’d been murdered.

  As Pauline uncovered more, Ella got a closer look at his clothing. Beneath pelts of fur, he wore a faded blue tunic over trousers. Something in her brain clicked, and now the ax made sense.

  “Hey, isn’t that one of the Norsemen guys?” She remembered one of them—Leif maybe—talking at the previous to last town hall meeting three weeks ago. No one had understood a lick of what he said, but he’d said it with such fire and conviction, she was certain it had been a good speech.

  “Yes,” Will said, “that’s Erik.”

  “Not Leif?”

  “No. Erik.”

  “He’s the other Norseman, right?”