by Ami Diane
Will’s chin dipped in a nod.
“Huh. I was sure it was Leif.”
“It’s not.”
The sound of Flo uncapping her thermos again made both Ella and the inventor turn their heads.
The older woman’s eyebrows rose to her statuesque cap, adding about a dozen wrinkles across her forehead. “What? Helps keep me warm. Want some, William?”
Stretching out her hand that held the booze, she batted spider-like lashes with extra clumps of mascara at him.
Will politely declined. The older woman shrugged and took a long swig.
“I’m fine too, Flo,” Ella said. “Thanks for the offer, though.”
In a not-so-quiet whisper, she spoke out of the side of her mouth to Will. “If you’re not careful, you’re going to be husband number… whatever.” Ella had yet to get Flo to admit to a number—probably because she was unsure herself.
Will’s mouth pressed into a thin line, and he kept silent. But she didn’t miss the slight shudder travel up his body.
Once Flo’s thermos had been safely secured amongst one of the many layers of jackets, she said rather loudly, “Anyone else hungry? I’m starving. I could really go for some bacon right about now.”
“Seriously?” Ella asked.
“Yes… what?”
“Dead body.” Ella pointed at the dead body in the snow in case it wasn’t obvious as to which body she was referring to.
“Well, it ain’t like me not eating is gonna bring him back to life now, is it?”
One of Ella’s eyebrows arched up. “I suppose you have a point. But we still have to talk to Chapman.”
She absently stared at Erik whose body had now been completely freed of snow. Now that she could get a better look, she studied the body, tilting her head. There was something off about his prone position, about how he lay, but she couldn’t put her finger on it.
The sound of boots crunching over snow told her that Chapman and Wink had finished and were returning, but she continued to study the dead man.
She narrowed her eyes. “He had to have died very early this morning.”
“You a coroner now too?” Pauline huffed, her breath coming out in puffs. “Just ‘cause you watched a few forensic shows in your time—”
“Why do you say that, Miss Barton?” the sheriff asked, cutting off the coroner whose mood swings were as fickle as the weather.
“Because of how much snow was covering him. It’s basically snowed non-stop since we got here until it finally let up about eight this morning. I remember because it was around the time I was getting to the diner for my shift.”
She glanced at Wink for confirmation before continuing.
“There was, what, a half a foot of snow covering him? Meaning that he was probably killed early morning sometime, assuming it snowed about two inches an hour which is what it’s been doing.” She took a breath.
Chapman’s eyes flickered with some undecipherable emotion, a rare display. “Hm, might be right. Pauline should be able to pinpoint a time though, right?”
The doc nodded. “Ballpark.”
“I don’t know what that means, but I’m gonna guess that’s a yes.”
Both doctor and lawman were from an era nearly a century apart. Ella stood at the ready with an explanation in case Pauline wasn’t, but the sheriff didn’t seem interested in learning the meaning of a “ballpark” estimation.
While Chapman escorted Flo to the clearing-turned-outside-office, Ella, Will, and Wink decided to make themselves useful and scan the area for footprints. This was made infinitely harder by not wanting to contaminate the scene.
So, they were relegated to shuffling on the spot, turning in all directions, combing the snow with their eyes from a distance.
“If Erik was buried in about six inches of snow,” Ella said, “we’re not going to find anything.”
“Maybe not in the snow,” Will said, “but perhaps a little higher.” He pointed to something in the middle distance.
Ella followed his finger to a tree about sixty yards away. “What? What am I looking at? The tree?”
“That.”
Ella stared at the eight-foot tall evergreen. After she exchanged a glance with Wink which confirmed her boss was just as confused as she was, Ella said, “Ah, yes. I see it now. But just to confirm we’re looking at the same thing, you should probably tell me. Just so we’re all on the same page.”
“Subtle,” he muttered.
“Thank you.”
“It’s the branches. Look at the branches.”
Ella squinted, wishing she’d had her eyes checked before getting stranded in the village. After struggling a moment, she asked for her phone back. Zooming in with her camera, she finally spotted what he was referring to.
About halfway up the tree, roughly shoulder-height, was a broken branch. It bent towards the ground, still partially attached.
“Fascinating. The snow broke it.” She caught the flaw in her logic the moment the words came out. “Except there’s roughly the same amount of snow on it as was on Erik’s body.”
“Exactly.”
Meaning that it broke around the same time he was killed.
The three puzzled in silence while Ella snapped a photo. For whatever reason, she also turned on her heel, filming the entire scene, lingering on the body. Her stomach turned, and she felt weird for having done what she just did, so she stopped recording.
Over the next fifteen minutes, Chapman interviewed Will then Ella. His conversation with the inventor had been short since Will hadn’t been there for the discovery of the body.
However, Ella’s conversation took more time, drawn out even longer by her Broadway style narration, complete with sound effects. In the end, he decided it best to confiscate the sled, a decision for which she silently thanked him.
Flo’s shoulders drooped, and her knit-covered beehive dipped.
Draping an arm around her shoulders, Ella did her best to console her crazy friend, saying encouraging things like, “Now you’ll live to see Christmas” and “Rosebud will keep someone’s fireplace going a bit longer.”
Flo glared at her while Wink coughed to cover a chortle.
Once Chapman dismissed them, the three began to hike towards the greenhouses where Will sat in his pickup waiting for them, the engine humming as it attempted to warm the cab.
Halfway there, Ella paused, looked back at the sheriff, and told them to go on ahead. She’d catch up.
Jogging back to the crime scene, Ella approached as Chapman lowered himself to a squat at Erik’s feet. The law man’s head tilted slightly, his mustache moving as his lips worked over a problem.
“What is it?” Ella asked, dropping beside him. Her backside brushed the snow, causing her to shiver.
It was several breaths before he answered, and when he did, his voice poured out slower than usual. “Can’t put my finger on it. But the blood… it just ain’t quite right.”
She stomached another long look at the body, trying to determine what he meant. Had the blood congealed too quickly?
“Do you mean the blood spatter?”
He dipped his chin in silent response. Ella wasn’t sure what blood spatter from an ax to the head was supposed to look like, so she was just going to have to take his word for it that something was off.
“Are you going to tell Leif?” she asked softly.
A deep pang of sympathy hit her chest. As far as she knew, they were the only two from their era and didn’t seem to speak any other language. Now the man, who Ella suspected was a Viking, was all alone.
“That I am. Not sure how, though. Mind coming along and interpreting?”
Ella’s Old Norse language was rusty at best. Despite her linguistic shortcomings, she said she would. Hopefully, her charades game was up to snuff.
CHAPTER 3
SHERIFF CHAPMAN TOLD Ella to go back to the inn, and he’d pick her up in about an hour and take her to Leif’s to help interpret. She left him to his rumination o
f murder and blood spatter.
Her boots crunched through the snow alone while her brain ran rampant with questions about Erik, what he was doing out here, and whose ax that had been.
With each step, her boots sunk up to her knees. She tried to keep to Flo’s footprints, but it was like following in Bigfoot’s steps. How did a woman of seemingly average height have such a gaping stride?
As she reached the pickup, light flakes began to fall. They sprinkled her jacket and dusted the vehicle. Stopping short, Ella took in the three bodies crammed into the small cab then back to the hard pickup bed as a chilly breeze pierced her skin.
After much cajoling and swearing on Flo’s part, Ella convinced them to let her into the cab, opting to fold into a pretzel on the floorboard in front of Wink rather than sit on the older woman’s lap.
As Will nosed the car onto the main road—which was more snow luge than drivable road at this point—the conversation immediately turned to the dead body.
“Poor Leif,” Wink said.
Ella told them she would be interpreting Chapman’s conversation with the Norseman. While speaking, she put her hands up to the vent, hoping to thaw her popsicle fingers, but Flo batted her hands away, complaining about her blocking the heat.
A thought occurred to Ella. “Wouldn’t it take some strength to put an ax in someone’s head?”
The memory of Erik with the weapon sticking out of his head popped up unbidden, causing her to flinch. She hoped she could forget the image sometime before she died.
“I mean,” she clarified, “I’ve chopped wood before. Not only does it take strength and a hard swing, but accuracy. Just ask my driveway.”
“Should probably chop wood over dirt,” Will suggested.
“Yeah, lesson learned. Especially after the first couple of sparks. Point is, it’s not easy to do. Not that wood is the same as bone.”
“How would you know?” Flo asked.
“Good point. I don’t.”
The cab lapsed into an awkward silence.
Ella cleared her throat. “But I’m correct about it requiring technique, right?”
The Chevy slowed as they reached town. Will adjusted his grip on the wheel, saying, “Agreed. It would take someone who’s handled an ax before. But that’s most people here.”
Flo shifted in her seat, scooting even closer to the inventor, leaving scarcely room enough to breathe. He was now sandwiched tightly against his door, and it would probably require the jaws of life to pry him loose.
The crazy woman glanced sideways at Ella. “I learned how to chop wood when I was eight.”
“Good for you,” Ella said. “And you still have all your fingers and toes? I’m impressed.”
“Who said I did?”
Ella’s mouth turned up until she realized Flo wasn’t kidding. “Oh, good Lord. Did you really think you could slip out something like that and not expect me to make fun of you?” She held up all ten fingers then dropped one. “Stop me when I reach how many toes you have.” She dropped another finger, now holding up only eight. When Flo didn’t react, Ella dropped a third. “Seriously? Is it under seven?”
“You got a few screws loose, you know that?”
“Yes. I’m well aware.”
Despite having chains, the pickup’s tires slipped over the snow as Will rolled the vehicle to a stop in front of Keystone Inn which was partially obstructed from view by the mound of snow spat out by the plow and half-buried cars. Snow clung to the ivy crawling up the 1800s two-story mansion-turned-inn.
Ella climbed out, followed by Wink, then Flo. Will arranged to give Wink a ride back to her house when she was ready, said goodbye, then skidded his car down a block before turning onto a side street.
“Are you staying for dinner?” Ella asked, climbing over the snow bank to get to the sidewalk. The heel of her boot slipped when she reached the top, and her feet kicked out from under her. She slid the rest of the way down penguin style. After popping to her feet, she brushed off her jacket and glanced back to be sure Flo hadn’t seen her arctic tumble.
“Yes. Rose invited me.” Wink bear-crawled over the mound, then she rummaged through a pocket to retrieve her key for the diner. “I want to get the kitchen ready for tomorrow.”
“What’s tomorrow?” Ella asked as they waited for Flo.
The woman stood on the other side of the barrier, her tongue slipping between her lips in concentration.
“The pie bake, remember?”
“Right, right. The pie bake.”
“You forgot, didn’t you?”
“Of course, I forgot. Remember me and baking?”
“Everyone in Keystone remembers you and baking. With the teeth you’ve cracked in this town with your cookies, I’m sure Dr. Taylor loves you.”
“Dr. Taylor’s the dentist, right?”
Wink never responded. Her expression flashed to one of terror. “Flo, no!”
Ella whipped her head around in time to see the batty woman take a waddling leap over the barricade. Flo’s feet barely cleared three inches off the ground, resulting in her thighs slamming into the bank and her entire body flipping over. She somersaulted shy of a full revolution, landing on her back.
Something between a whimper and the air squealing out of a balloon escaped her shriveled mouth.
Ella and Wink rushed over and helped her to a sitting position.
After visually inspecting her, Ella focused on Flo’s rheumy eyes to be sure they responded properly to light. “You okay?”
“No.” Flo gripped her back. “I think I broke my metatarsal.”
Ella’s mouth pinched together, then she said, “That’s in your foot. And you have more than one.”
“She’s fine.” Wink rolled her eyes. “I’ve seen her roll down the entire east hill to escape a band of pirates.”
“Okay, first,” Ella said, “you need to finish that story sometime. Preferably over cookies or drinks or both. Secondly—” she rounded on Flo “—hand over your thermos.”
After much arguing, cursing, and name-calling, Flo surrendered the container of questionable liquid, and they helped her to her feet. She teetered a moment, either because of the contents of the thermos or from her tumble, Ella couldn’t be certain.
Then, she mentioned something about seeing the ghost of a late husband. From any other person’s mouth, Ella would’ve found this disconcerting and immediately taken said person for a brain scan. However, she let out a breath, realizing Flo would be just fine. After that, she assured Wink she could handle the boozehound from there.
They parted, and Ella heard the bell over the front door for the diner as Wink went inside.
“You ain’t gonna be there tomorrow, are you?” Flo asked as she put nearly all of her generous weight on Ella.
Struggling up the stoop, Ella managed to turn the knob on the intricately carved wooden door to the inn, and she nudged it open with a boot.
“I was planning on it.”
“I’ll be sure to bring my fire extinguisher.”
Ella let the comment slide, partly because she was grateful for the added retardant—especially considering the lack of an official fire department. “Relax. I’m mostly going so I can get free pie.”
“We don’t keep ‘em. They’re for the food pantry or charity or something.”
“Oh.” Ella didn’t bother to hide her disappointment. Her stomach rumbled in protest. “I mean, that’s nice. I made sure to eat light last night and this morning in preparation. But whatever.”
“I thought it was because Rose had made a strawberry gelatin mold.”
Ella winced. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. It was delicious.” She hung up both their jackets onto the coat tree. Slowly, Flo began to fall like a tree, and Ella caught her in time before having to yell “Timber!”
Flo sucked in a breath through her teeth. “Tasted fine if you ate around the potato.”
Ella shivered at the memory and lowered her voice. “What on earth was sweet p
otato doing in there, anyway?”
“You know it’s her turn for the family dinner tonight?”
Ella swore under her breath and made a mental note to sneak over to the diner and grab something. At this rate, she would rapidly drop the pounds she’d packed on since her arrival, largely thanks to Wink’s baking.
Together, they stumbled up the stairs, forced to have to skip an entire stair since it was currently occupied by a ginormous Maine Coon the size of a small dog.
“No, no. Don’t you get up, Fluffy,” Ella said through gasps of air. The cat’s ears twitched before his mouth stretched in a yawn that lasted a minimum of five Mississippis.
After depositing Flo in her room, Ella turned to leave.
She paused.
She backtracked a step.
A beautiful antique desk made of dark mahogany and a leather top sat below a window overlooking Main Street, but Ella’s gaze had been drawn to the contents littering the burgundy leather surface. Wires mixed with beakers dispersed around a myriad of weapons.
One of them, Ella could swear looked like a miniaturized cannon with a telescope on top.
Flo had collapsed onto her bed, her eyes barely slits. “Move along, Barton. Nothing to see.”
Shaking her head, Ella stepped out into the hall, clicking the door closed behind her. She really needed to find Flo’s hidden cache of weapons.
CHAPTER 4
ELLA’S BOOTS CRUNCHED over the snow as she slid down the embankment. After dusting off her backside, she stilled staring up into the doleful eyes of a horse.
“What’s this?”
“A horse.” Chapman sat atop his own horse, aptly named Horse, and held out the reins of the second to her. “They don’t have these where you’re from?”
She eyed the proffered leather tack. “No, they do, but it’s not exactly our preferred means of transportation. Like magic carpets, teleportation, your usual fare.”
After staring down the leather straps another five seconds, it was clear Chapman wasn’t going to take back the reins any time soon. Ella let out a breath that sounded like a steam engine then swiped them from his hands.