Miss Frost Ices The Imp: A Nocturne Falls Mystery (Jayne Frost Book 2)

by Kristen Painter

Stanhill and I are outside.

  I grabbed my purse, locked my office and headed to the sidewalk. A sleek black sedan was parked and waiting.

  The rear window buzzed down, and Delaney grinned at me. “Hop in.”

  But before I could take another step, Stanhill got out and opened the door for me. “Morning, Your Highness.”

  I smirked at him. “Morning, Stanhill.”

  He shut the door and got back behind the wheel. As he pulled away from the curb, I leaned toward Delaney. “Where are we going?”

  “To see the woman who I think could be the answer to our imp troubles.” She set a paper bag between us. Her shop name and logo were emblazoned on the side. “Salted caramel peach muffin?”

  Was she actually unsure if I wanted one? Eager to answer, my stomach rumbled. “Absolutely, thanks.”

  She offered me a napkin. I took one, spread it on my lap, then pulled a muffin out of the bag and dug in. It was heaven. “This is so good,” I mumbled around a mouthful. “That was really thoughtful of you to bring them.”

  “My pleasure. I might be a vampire, but I still believe there are very few occasions that can’t be improved with something sweet.”

  My girl crush on her deepened. “Can we be best friends?”

  She laughed, showing off her cute little fangs. “Happily.” She took the second muffin out of the bag, and before long, we had them both polished off.

  We put the wrappers and napkins in the bag as Stanhill turned onto a long gravel drive.

  Delaney inched forward excitedly. “We’re almost there.”

  I still had no idea where we were going, but we weren’t in town anymore. Instead, countryside spread out around us. “Where are we exactly?”

  Delaney nodded toward something beyond the window.

  The car slowed, and I glanced that way to see for myself. A small cottage was up ahead, something that would have been right at home in the English countryside. Flowers of all kinds, even flowering bushes, were everywhere. And at the back of the property were rows of white boxes.

  A sign outside the door read Matilda Sharpe, Mistress of Bees.

  “Bees?” My brows knit as I looked at Delaney.

  “Not just bees. Magical bees,” she said. “And, more importantly, their honey.” Then she bit her lip. “That is, if Matilda decides to share it with us. Which I’m sure she will. She basically said she would on the phone, but she wants to meet you first.”

  “Decides? She controls the bees?” And no pressure on me or anything.

  Delaney bobbed her head. “Sort of.”

  “Is she a supernatural? A bee shifter or something?”

  “Not a shifter, but sort of a magical bee whisperer. She can speak to the bees and has the ability to imbue magical properties into the things she produces with the honey and the wax. I’m hoping she can provide us with some spelled honey to lure the imp in and keep him in the box until you can get the lid closed.”

  “That would be great.”

  She smiled. “Let’s go introduce you to Mattie, then.”

  Matilda Sharpe came around from the back of the cottage as we got out of the car. She was a woman of average height, above-average curves and the owner of an infectious smile. Her whiskey-brown eyes and matching twin braids made a pretty picture combined with the smattering of freckles across her cheeks. I’d never met a magical beekeeper before (who had?), but Matilda seemed to fit that description perfectly.

  She wore an ivory apron over a long-sleeved, pink plaid shirt and denim shorts that showed off shapely tanned legs. The pockets of her apron held a few gardening tools, and the smudges of dirt on the fabric clearly said it wasn’t just for looks. She wiped the hair out of her eyes with the back of her hand as she approached. She nodded to Delaney. “Hey.”

  Delaney nodded back. “Hi, Mattie.”

  She stopped in front of me, her gaze pointed and assessing. “You must be the winter elf who set the imp free.”

  “That’s me, but it wasn’t on purpose, I assure you.”

  A pair of bees buzzed past me. I held still as they landed on her shoulder. They weren’t something I was familiar with, and in truth, they scared me a little. I didn’t want to get stung.

  Mattie didn’t seem to have that concern, since she acted like they weren’t even there. “Tell me again how it happened.”

  “How the imp got free? I bought the box from Francine Gresham’s estate sale, brought it home, my cat knocked it off the coffee table and the lid popped free. I didn’t even know there’d been anything in the box until all the nonsense in town started happening.”

  She nodded, then glanced at the bees and tipped her head at them. Like she was listening. Were they saying something?

  I didn’t hear a thing.

  When the bees took off, she looked at me again. “The bees say you’re telling the truth.”

  “They can tell?”

  “Bees pick up on vibrations humans can’t register. And I can understand the bees. It’s my gift. Been in my family a long time.”

  “That’s very cool. Does me telling the truth mean you’re going to give me some of your honey?”

  She smiled. “Yes. But it’ll take me a moment. I need to tell the bees the purpose of the honey first, then harvest it.” She wiggled her fingers. “Work my magic, as it were.”

  A small swarm of bees flew overhead.

  I ducked.

  Mattie grinned. “Come on in the house, both of you. You can wait there.”

  We followed her. The cottage was just as cute inside as it was out and still just as English.

  “Have a seat at the table there if you like.” She pointed toward the small kitchen table covered with a floral cloth. “Can I get you anything?”

  “I’m all right.” I glanced at Delaney.

  She shook her head. “All good here.”

  “Back in a bit, then. There’s lemonade in the fridge if you get thirsty.” She started for the door.

  I had to ask. “Aren’t you going to put on protective gear so you don’t get stung?”

  Mattie smiled. “My bees never sting me.”

  “Nice.”

  She left us, and Delaney settled back in a chair. “If this honey doesn’t do the trick, I have no idea what to try next, but I have a feeling it’ll work. Especially after your aunt’s fudge showed so much promise.”

  I thought about that. “You think because that fudge was made by an elf—”

  “Not just an elf,” Delaney said. “But a very special one. Santa Claus’s better half.”

  “So you think Mattie’s magic honey might do the trick because it’s also produced by a supernatural?”

  “I do. It’s got the whole supernatural element, but it’s also of the earth. That deeper connection might just be the thing.”

  I took a breath. “I sure hope you’re right.” A few moments of silence passed. “How long have you known Mattie?”

  “Not long. She just moved here a few months ago. She’s a friend of the brother and sister who own the winery we passed. He was looking for help pollinating the vines, so he called her.”

  “I still don’t think I understand what kind of supernatural she is.”

  “The most I can tell you is that she’s an ancient kind of Celtic witch. A green witch, like Corette’s daughter Marigold, but a very specific type that has this gift with bees. It’s pretty rare, from what I know.”

  I looked around. “Celtic? That explains the house.”

  “Looks straight out of an English village, doesn’t it?” Delaney smiled. “Hugh’s grandmother loves it. She lives just down the road. I’ve heard her mention it at least three or four times since Mattie’s been here.”

  “Well, the cottage didn’t just magically appear when she arrived. Who built it?”

  Delaney’s brows rose. “Actually, it kind of did.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “I told you she was a witch.”

  The cottage door opened, and Mattie came in holding a
small Mason jar filled with liquid gold. She held it out to me. “I took a bit of the honeycomb, too. Use it. The wax holds a scent that should help draw the imp in.”

  I took the jar. It was warm and weighty, and I was instantly filled with hope. “Thank you so much.”

  Delaney hoisted herself upright. “If I weren’t pregnant, I’d be asking for a couple bottles of your mead.”

  Mattie smiled. “As soon as the baby’s born, I’ll make you some.”

  “Mead is…” I looked at both of them.

  “Wine made from honey,” Mattie answered.

  Delaney made a happy little sound. “Her mead really is magical. Sweet and delicious and just the best stuff I’ve ever tasted.”

  Sounded awesome.

  Mattie bobbed her head. “Much appreciated. Same shipment of honey this week for the store?”

  “Yep,” Delaney said. “Those honey bourbon truffles are a big hit. Or so I’ve heard.” She patted her stomach. “One more thing this kidlet is keeping me from tasting.”

  “I’ll be by with the jars as usual, then.”

  “Great,” Delaney said. “I’ll see you later. And thanks again for your help with this.”

  “Yes,” I said. “Thank you. I have a good feeling that this honey is going to do the trick. One question…is it okay if I taste the honey? I mean, it won’t hurt me, will it?”

  Mattie laughed. “You can taste it all you like. Just leave enough for the imp.”

  “I promise.”

  We left Mattie’s, and Stanhill, who’d read the paper in the car while he’d waited, drove us back to town. They dropped me off at the shop.

  “Call me tomorrow,” Delaney said. “I have to know if this works.”

  “Will do.” I gave her a wave, the jar of honey snug in my other hand. As the car pulled away, I set the jar on the sidewalk to get my key out. That felt safer than fumbling around and risking dropping it.

  Once in, I went straight upstairs and set up the box with the new bait. The honey smelled amazing as I dripped it into the bottle cap along with the little bit of wax I’d cut free with a knife. I couldn’t resist having a little taste. Sweet and floral and utterly delicious. If the imp didn’t like this, I might just have to take my dad up on his offer to freeze the whole town.

  I went downstairs to check in at the shop and let Juniper and Kip know I’d returned, then I finally headed into my office. The entire space smelled of cinnamon, and I grinned at the Mummy’s bag on my desk. That muffin had been great, but there was always room for a little cinnamon roll. Or a lot, in the case of Mummy’s.

  Then I frowned. I’d locked my office before I’d left. And Juniper had just told me that the cinnamon roll was in a bag in front of my door.

  “Hello, beautiful.”

  I jumped and shrieked as I turned. Greyson stood against the far wall looking at some family photos on top of the filing cabinet.

  He frowned. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you.”

  “How did you get in here?”

  He shrugged. “You’re not the only one good at breaking and entering. Which reminds me, that’s a pretty basic lock on that door. You should upgrade it if you really want to keep whatever’s in here secure.”

  I frowned right back. “I don’t know how I feel about you breaking into my office.”

  He nodded. “Understood. But I didn’t think you’d want me loitering outside either. I know I’m not Juniper’s favorite supernatural. If I overstepped, I’m very sorry.”

  “No, it’s okay.” And it was. I trusted Greyson. Just like I trusted Cooper. “And you’re right. Juniper would have freaked if she’d walked into the warehouse and bumped into you.”

  “I wouldn’t have done it, except I have some news.”

  That got my attention. “You do? About the imp?”

  “Sort of. Your idea that Francine is hiding something got me thinking. After I left your place last night, I went by her house. And did a little investigating on my own.”

  “Investigating? What’s that mean?”

  He hesitated. “It means I went inside and had a look around.”

  “Greyson.” I stared at him. “You just warned me about doing that.”

  “I realize the irony, but I’m a vampire. I’m much faster than you, and my skills allow me to be very stealthy.”

  “Apparently.” I crossed my arms. “So what did you find out?”

  “I’m not sure.” He reached into his pocket and took out his phone. “I saw this in the butler’s pantry off the kitchen. She’s got all her shipping and packing supplies in there for the business. Her laptop was in there too, but I didn’t even touch that.”

  “No wonder why I couldn’t find that stuff.”

  He turned his phone so I could see a picture on the screen.

  I squinted at it until I sort of understood what I was looking at. “A wooden crate?”

  “A wooden crate and lid and the packing foam that was custom fit to whatever was originally shipped in that box. Look familiar?”

  I peered at the picture again, then used my fingers on the screen to zoom in. The shape in the foam was about the size of the box upstairs. I glanced at him. “Is this the original packaging from the imp box?”

  He nodded.

  “Okay. But I don’t get why this is news. I already know it was shipped to her. That’s how she got it.”

  He swiped to the next picture. “But look who she was getting ready to send it to.”

  I glanced at the phone. There was no need to blow up the photo this time. The new label on the crate very clearly read Roger Gresham. The address was in Arizona, which was where Greyson had said he’d moved to.

  I blinked, mulling that over. “I don’t get it. Her husband ordered the imp? Why wouldn’t he just buy it for himself? And why would she be doing him a favor when she must hate the guy?”

  Greyson laughed and kissed me. “I love how sweet you are, Princess. Always thinking the best about people. Never change.”

  “What?”

  “I doubt he knows anything about the imp. Look at the return address.”

  I checked the picture again. The return address listed Saul Zabarski as the sender. And he was apparently in Greensboro, North Carolina. “I don’t know what to make of that.”

  Greyson clicked the phone off and put it away. “I do. Francine is Saul.”

  My mouth gaped as everything fell into place. “Of course. She’s the one who wants revenge.”

  “And she’s moving to Summerfield, North Carolina. Her sister lives there. Summerfield is right outside of Greensboro. It would be very easy to send a package from there and get the right postmark. For all we know, she’s created this Saul character and used this alias to befriend Roger. He might even be expecting this package, thinking it’s something else of course.”

  “Wow. She’s craftier than I guessed.”

  He nodded. “Indeed. And think about how easy it would be to hurt someone with the imp. All you’d have to do is open the box, speak the control words to set your wishes in order with the imp, then seal it up again and send it on its way.”

  “With some kind of note that would get the recipient to open the box and release the imp, allowing it to fulfil those wishes.” I looked at Greyson. “She could have wished for anything. For the imp to burn down Roger’s house. Or for him to be covered in boils. Or for his you-know-what to fall off. That would be poetic. Considering.”

  Greyson’s brows arched. “Yes, I suppose so. I was thinking more along the lines of she might ask the imp to destroy Roger’s new marriage and business. Or worse.”

  “You think she would have wished for the imp to kill Roger?”

  He shrugged. “She might have. Then she could have asked the imp to make his body disappear. It would be the perfect crime.”

  “Holy snowballs.”

  Greyson sat on the loveseat. “Pretty much.”

  I took the chair behind my desk. “But we can’t prove any of this. And you can’t exactly sh
ow the sheriff your pictures without explaining how you got them.”

  Greyson tipped his head. “Therein lies the dilemma.”

  I sat back. “We’re going to have to handle this ourselves. If we can get her to confess, and we can record it, then that should be worth something.”

  “And how do you suppose you’re going to get her to confess?”

  I sighed. “I have no idea. But I’ll come up with something.”

  “Better come up with it fast. Judging by the interior of her house, she’s not going to be here much longer.”

  “One more day.” I shrugged. “Birdie told me.”

  Then I squinted as a new thought popped into my head. “I wonder if there’s a way to keep her in town a little longer…”

  I showed up at Cooper’s that evening after work in my tiniest sundress, strappy sandals, a push-up bra and full makeup and hair. I was also carrying two takeout orders of peach cobbler from Howler’s and the DVD of Die Hard, which had been Coop’s favorite movie in college. Basically, I’d turned myself into a package he couldn’t resist.

  Not that I thought there would be any resistance. He already knew I was coming over. He’d offered to make me dinner, and I’d said yes. Because for one, I felt like I needed some time with him after seeing Greyson unexpectedly, and for two, I was seriously hoping he might be able to help me with my problem.

  There was also the whole Lark thing, but frankly, I’d be fine pushing that to the back burner and leaving it there. We’d also decided not to discuss the imp’s latest rampage through town, which had included three side streets covered in yellow slime, a dog at one of the parks suddenly becoming the size of an elephant, and loud popping sounds that seemed to serve no other purpose than to scare people.

  Cooper opened the door almost as soon as I started knocking.

  I grinned up at him. “Hey, sailor.”

  I was rewarded with the right kind of look in his eyes. Desire. But then his gaze narrowed, and he shook his head. “I know I’m going to regret asking this, but what ulterior motive lies behind all”—he waved a finger at me—“this?”

  I clutched my nonexistent pearls. “I’m wounded. And I just wanted to look nice for you.”

  “I appreciate that.” He moved out of the way to let me in. “Especially since the last couple of times I’ve seen you, you were dressed to clean toilets.”