Cozy Christmas Murder

by Summer Prescott

  Kate planted her hands on her hips. “That could still happen. You know how busy we’ve been with the bookstore. I haven’t had time.”

  Grace wasn’t done. “What about the photography? And the plans to take up pole dancing? Which, at age fifty-two, is ridiculous, I might add.”

  Kate bristled. “It is not ridiculous at all. Believe it or don’t, it isn’t all about sexy poses and wearing skimpy clothes. It’s a sport. Like gymnastics.”

  “Hah!” Grace shook her head in disbelief. “If that’s a sport, then—”

  Blake held a hand up. “Stop quibbling, you two. It's Christmas time. Good cheer, peace on earth, goodwill to all, that kind of thing.”

  “You're right. Sorry. Can we take you out to dinner?” asked Kate. “I’ll ask Jeremiah and the kids to join us.”

  “I appreciate the invitation, but I’m rather tired. I’ll have Jenna make me one of her egg salad sandwiches and I’ll dine in my room.”

  “That doesn’t sound like fun, dining alone.” Grace had hoped she and Kate could spend a little time with Blake before he called it a night.

  “It’s fine. I don’t mind at all. I’d prefer it. I’ve just finished a tour of book signings and some writing conventions, and they take a lot out of me.”

  “We’ll go along with whatever you want.” Grace tried keeping the disappointment from her voice.

  “Do you need me around tomorrow?” he asked.

  Kate and Grace looked at each other. “I don’t think so,” they replied together.

  “Great. I’m going to stay holed up in my room. I’ve got a bunch of emails to attend to, and other business to catch up on. Call me on my cell if you really need to reach me. I’ll pick up my Santa costume tomorrow night, Grace. By the way, I’m planning to be at the bookshop a little early Thursday.

  “I want to set up my table and set up a couple of piles of advanced copies of Riddle Me Dead before you open, and your Christmas tea gets underway. I’ve got some bookmarks and other items to give away that your readers will like, I think. I’d prefer to do this alone, if that’s okay with you two. One of my quirks.”

  “It’s fine, Blake,” Kate assured him. “We aren't planning to open until a little before 1:00, when our tea starts. We need time to set up, and it's easier if there are no customers milling about. We'll probably come in around ten or so. I have some paperwork I need to do, and Grace wants to sort through a book shipment that arrived this morning, and we both have some other stuff to do before the tea begins.”

  “That’ll work,” he told her.

  CHAPTER 2

  * * *

  Grace hated getting up on cold mornings. She wasn’t a winter person. Or, if truth be told, a morning person. She shivered. She craved warmth, sunshine, and the beach. More than once she’d pondered moving to Florida and opening another Black Cat Books. Maybe someday, if she could convince herself she wouldn’t miss Kate, Jeremiah, and their four kids too much. She opened one eye. Despite her down comforter, and the knee socks she always wore to bed under her flannel nightgowns, she shivered. Good thing there wasn’t a man currently in her life. He probably wouldn’t think her knee socks were sexy bed attire.

  Maybe it wasn’t so good. She might not be freezing if she were in a relationship. She looked over at her alarm clock. It was flashing 4:00 a.m. Grace sucked in a breath. No wonder it was so cold. Apparently, the power had gone off during the night. She grabbed her cell phone then blinked in horror. 9:45! She’d never make it to the bookstore by 10:00. The cold must have shocked her body into semi-hibernation.

  She wouldn't be the least surprised if Kate wasn't already at the bookstore telling Blake how irresponsible her sister was. They might be twins, but besides their looks and mannerisms, they certainly weren’t identical in personality or temperament. Kate had to have a plan, a backup plan, and who knows how many other back up plans. She liked maps and itineraries and lists. Lots and lots of lists.

  Grace preferred breezing through life, unfettered by plans, clocks, or calendars. She didn’t even take a list grocery shopping. Much more fun that way. She smiled to herself picturing Kate in a full-blown snit because Grace hadn’t arrived yet. But as much as they quibbled, she adored Kate, and couldn’t picture life without her.

  She reluctantly threw off the comforter and sat up, slipping her feet into slippers. Her cell phone rang. She grabbed it, already knowing it was Kate. “I know, I know. I’ll be there as soon as I can. It’s not quite ten yet, how come you’re calling already?” Grace rushed on not letting Kate get a word in. “My power went out. Did it go out everywhere? It’s freezing in—”

  “Grace!” Kate cut in. “I don’t care right now. Listen to me. I’m at the bookstore. I’ve called Ian. I can’t believe this! How could this happen in our town? Inside our bookstore no less. I can barely breathe. It’s awful. Please get here quickly. I need you.”

  She struggled to follow Kate. “What’s the matter? Why did you call Ian?”

  “He’s dead. Grace. Dead! Someone killed him. Right here!”

  “Dead? What do you mean dead? What are you talking about? Who?” Grace wondered if she was still asleep and muddling through a nightmare.

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake. I mean Blake is dead! As in he’s not alive. What else would I mean? It looks like they bashed his head in with something. Who could do that to someone? Are you coming in soon? Ian told me to stay put until he arrives, but I don’t feel comfortable being here alone with poor Blake lying in a pool of blood.”

  Grace shuddered at her sister’s description. Blake lying in a pool of blood? She didn’t want to hear the gruesome details. Kate’s words bounced around in her head, refusing to sink in.

  “Charlotte and Emily are nervous, too,” Kate kept talking. “They refuse to leave my side. They keep howling and looking at me for an explanation.”

  “I’m sure he picked up the Santa suit,” Grace said, mostly to herself as she tried absorbing Kate's words. “When could this have happened?”

  “Did you not hear what I said? How can you be so calm? This morning when he was here alone, obviously. Please get here quickly,” Kate’s voice trembled in her ear.

  “I will. I’m running a little late. Not that it matters now. I’m sorry, Kate. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  “All right. Poor Blake. Who would’ve wanted him dead? No one knew he was here, did they?”

  “I have no idea. Someone did, I’m sure. Family or friends. Ian will sort everything out.”

  “Okay, I’ll be waiting for you.”

  “Bye.” Grace sat on the edge of her bed, unable to move. Blake was dead? Tears congested her throat then filled her eyes as her heart clenched. He meant so much to her. And to Kate, too. She couldn’t believe he was gone. It was unreal. Murder didn’t happen in Sweetwater, Indiana. Grace couldn’t remember the last murder. It probably happened in the last century. She and Kate had been so elated to have him as a business partner. How could he be dead? She was sure he’d picked up the Santa suit last night, hadn’t he?

  She went downstairs and pulled open the closet door that stood in the entry hall. The Santa suit hung as lifeless as Blake evidently was now. Her teeth chattered from the cold, and from the shock of Kate’s news. She must have dreamt that he’d picked it up. She’d been so tired. She’d fallen asleep reading Riddle Me Dead, and had dragged herself to bed in the wee hours of the morning. The empty suit looked so sad now. She quickly slammed the closet door on it.

  She went back upstairs. The tea! They’d cancel it, of course. Someone had to contact Blake’s family, too. She’d let Kate deal with Detective Ian Logan. She wasn’t his favorite person even though twenty-seven years had passed since she’d left him at the altar. Not exactly at the altar, but she’d backed out of their wedding two days before it was supposed to have happened, which wasn’t any better. It wasn’t a matter of not loving him, she had. She still did, a fact that no one, including Kate, knew. She’d been afraid to be tied down. What if he got killed
in the line of duty? How would she go on? So stupid of her. What an idiot she'd been. He’d never forgiven her, and she doubted he ever would. She hadn't forgiven herself.

  Thankfully, she had little reason to see Ian anymore. But when they did run into each other, he looked right through her as if she didn’t exist. He’d gotten married, but his wife had died a few years ago. She had wanted to reach out to him, but knew that wouldn’t be welcome, so she’d stayed away.

  Grace put Ian out of her mind, and tried, unsuccessfully, to put Blake out of her mind as she rushed through a shower. She dressed in a pair of flannel-lined jeans, her saddle-brown riding boots, and a heavy, woolen red Christmas sweater with a likeness of Rudolph on it. She hoped it wasn’t too festive considering Blake’s murder. She brushed her long hair once she’d dried it then put it in a braid.

  ###

  Ten minutes later, she arrived at Black Cat Books. Her stomach roiled when she saw the yellow crime scene tape strung across the front door of the bookstore, banning anyone from entering.

  The front door was jerked open, startling her. “The tape is there for a reason. Don’t touch anything.”

  Her eyes met Ian’s. Almost six feet tall, he was still handsome and fit. His ultra-short hair was an attractive silver; a stunning contrast to his piercing blue eyes. Really Grace? she scolded herself. Blake’s been murdered and you’re admiring the man whose heart you broke?

  What did he think she was going to touch? She hadn’t even reached for the door handle. “Ian, Kate called me about Blake. She asked me to come to the bookstore. He was supposed to play Santa at Black Cat’s annual Christmas tea. He was our guest of honor.” She stopped rambling and drew a breath. “Can I come in? I’m not going to touch anything.”

  “Absolutely not. I don’t need you, or anyone else, contaminating the scene of the crime.”

  “I didn’t think of that. Where’s Kate now?”

  “I told her she couldn’t stay here. She told me to tell you she’s at Pinky’s.”

  “What happened?” Grace found it very unnerving to not be able to go into her own bookstore. She wrapped her arms around herself and tried to stop shaking. Was Blake's body still inside?

  “When Kate arrived, she found Mr. Blake D’Arcy lying on the floor. She called 911. She was pretty sure he was dead. She was correct. She said there was a complete set of fireplace tools at the bookstore, even though they were never used. Is there a reason why the poker is missing?”

  “No,” Grace answered, picturing the tools in their usual place on the right side of the fireplace. It was a working fireplace, but with all the books, they thought it safer not to use it. “It’s really not something we’d notice. We’re so used to seeing them there. Oh no! Is that what killed him?”

  “Any idea who wanted him dead?” he asked, ignoring her question.

  “No,” Grace replied right away. “I mean he never mentioned having an enemy, or anything like that. He seemed fine when he arrived. He was thrilled to be playing Santa at our tea. It's supposed to be today at 1:00. I can’t believe this. Ian, can … can you put up a sign that it’s been canceled? You’ll find printer paper in one of the desk drawers in the office. You can make a sign on that.”

  “I’ll take care of it, but with the tape blocking the entrance, no one’s going to try and come in anyway.”

  Grace supposed he was right. “Was the bookstore broken into?”

  “No. Right now, it looks like maybe it was someone he knew. No sign of a forced entry. Or maybe he left the door unlocked and the killer waltzed in.”

  “I can’t believe this,” she said. “The poor man. His new book is coming out next week, and now he’s dead. Can you tell me anything else?”

  “Not for now. My team is dusting for fingerprints, taking pictures, and cataloging other evidence. George Halliday, the county’s medical examiner, will be here soon to collect the body.”

  The body. He was still inside! She couldn’t handle hearing Blake reduced to nothing more than a body. A dead body. She blinked back tears.

  “Do you have contact information for him?” Ian asked. “There was nothing in his wallet and he didn’t have a cell phone on him.”

  Grace tried to think. “He probably left his phone at Thistlewood Inn. That’s where he was staying.”

  “Kate mentioned that. We’re going through his room, too. Back to my question, do you know whom we should contact?”

  “No, I’m afraid not. He didn’t talk about family much. He was divorced a few times. He’s not married now. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t have any kids. I think his agent would probably know more. Her name is Alice Braddock of Braddock Literary Agency. In Chicago. Or maybe try his Facebook page?”

  He gave her a brief nod. “It’s cold out here. Why don’t you join Kate? I told her I’d give her a call when it was all clear.”

  “Will it be today?” Grace asked.

  “I can’t promise we’ll have everything wrapped up today. Sorry, I’ve got to get back inside.” He started to swing the door shut.

  “Wait!” she cried. “Our cats, Charlotte and Emily, are in there. Are they okay?”

  “Don’t worry, they’re good. I closed them up in the kitchen. They’ve got food, water, and access to the litter boxes.”

  “Thank you,” Grace said, but the door had already shut. Of course, Charlotte and Emily would be fine. They loved the bookstore, and had been living in it since their kittenhoods. Their grandmother had been the original black cat of Black Cat Books. Grace had taken Charlotte and Emily home once during a snow storm, and they'd fussed and carried on the whole weekend. They didn't want to be anywhere but in Black Cat Books.

  CHAPTER 3

  * * *

  She hurried back to her car and drove to Pinky’s. They had the best doughnuts and breakfasts in town, but the heart-wrenching news about Blake had rendered her appetite non-existent. Pinky’s had been in Sweetwater since forever. The giant, blinking, happy cow sign high above the parking lot greeted Grace as she pulled in. She quickly made her way into the diner. The gleaming white tiles and chrome was a little blinding at first, but the red leather booths were comfortable, and the place was always spotless.

  It seemed the news about Blake hadn’t spread. She didn’t hear anyone murmuring about it. She made her way to where Kate, her hands around a mug of steaming hot chocolate, was sitting, her face looking pale as the moon.

  “Hey.” She slid into the booth across from her twin. “I just saw Ian. I can’t believe this. I’m so sorry you had to find Blake. How awful.”

  “It wasn’t my best moment, that’s for sure,” Kate said, looking as mournful as Grace felt. “I think I’m still in shock. Who wanted Blake dead? Was it someone in town? And why?”

  “Who in town would want him dead? The only people he really knows here are us.”

  “Hiya, Grace,” a waitress came up to their table. “What can I get you?”

  Grace turned her attention to the waitress. “Hi, Patti. I’ll take a hot chocolate, too, please.”

  “You got it, girl. Be right back.”

  “I certainly have no idea who would want him dead, or why,” Grace continued when Patti was out of earshot. “It was someone who knew he was in town, that much is clear. But why at the bookstore? Why not at the Thistlewood? Why period?”

  Kate leaned toward her. “We should talk to Jenna, see if anyone asked for him. See if she saw anyone lurking about.”

  “We’d best leave all that to Ian and the other members of the Sweetwater Police Department, I think. I'm sure they'll ask her. Anyway, Jenna goes to bed rather early, doesn’t she? She may not have seen, or heard, anything. If there had been anything to hear or see, that is.”

  Kate sighed. “I guess you’re right.” She took a drink out of her mug. “How was it? Talking to Ian?”

  Grace shrugged as Patti dropped off a jumbo mug of hot chocolate, a mountain of whipped cream precariously balanced on top. “Thanks, Patti.”

  “Give a holler
if you want anything else.”

  “We will.” Grace looked at Kate. “It was okay. It wasn’t exactly a conversation. I can’t even remember when we’ve spoken last. Right now, all I can think about is Blake.”

  “Me, too. I feel so helpless.”

  “I know.” They sat in silence for quite a while, sipping at their hot chocolates, until Grace reached out and squeezed her sister’s forearm. “I fell asleep last night reading his latest book. Now he’s dead! I can’t believe he’s gone. How does that even happen?”

  “Especially here in Sweetwater. Oh! What about the Christmas tea? We have to cancel it!”

  “Ian's going to put a sign on the door. I’m sure this will be all over the news soon. He’s a world-famous author.”