PRAISE FOR
SNOW WAY OUT
“A promising debut! Delights with charming characters, lots of heart, and a clever whodunit.”
—Christy Fifield, national bestselling author of Murder Ties the Knot
“Snow Way Out . . . is everything I love in a cozy mystery . . . [This series is] off to a magnificent start. Christine Husom’s unique story line using characters who own a snow globe shop and joint coffee shop is one that is different than most I have read and it works . . . Snow Way Out . . . is an absolutely delightful story to cozy up on the couch to.”
—Fresh Fiction
“This was a wonderful debut to a promising new series . . . I look forward to spending more time with this great cast of characters.”
—Melissa’s Mochas, Mysteries & Meows
“This is a pleasantly appealing and delightfully charming addition to the cozy mystery genre, and I can’t wait for my next visit to Brooks Landing.”
—Dru’s Book Musings
Berkley Prime Crime titles by Christine Husom
SNOW WAY OUT
THE ICED PRINCESS
FROSTY THE DEAD MAN
BERKLEY PRIME CRIME
Published by Berkley
An imprint of Penguin Random House LLC
375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014
Copyright © 2016 by Christine Husom
Penguin Random House supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin Random House to continue to publish books for every reader.
BERKLEY is a registered trademark and BERKLEY PRIME CRIME and the B colophon are trademarks of Penguin Random House LLC.
Ebook ISBN: 9780698137028
First Edition: December 2016
Cover art © Julia Green
Cover design by Lesley Worrell
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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This tale is dedicated to my grandchildren. They are special gifts and have shown me there is another dimension to love that I could never have imagined existed.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I’ve been very fortunate to have a dream team to work with at Berkley publishing group: Senior editor Michelle Vega, her assistant Bethany Blair, publicists Danielle Dill and Roxanne Jones, and production editor Yvette Grant. Edie Peterson and Elizabeth Husom for their proofreading skills. My agent, John Talbot, for his vision, and my family for their unfailing love and support. My sincerest gratitude and thanks!
CONTENTS
Praise for Snow Way Out
Titles by Christine Husom
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Snow Globes with Styrofoam Snow
About the Author
1
“It’s craziness, pure and simple—”
The loud male voice from the back of my friend’s coffee shop caught my attention as I stepped through the archway from Curio Finds into Brew Ha-Ha.
“—I can’t believe you’d want that factory moving in west of town. That’s prime cropland.” I followed the direction of the voices to the table where Mr. Marvin Easterly was shaking a large pointer finger in front of Mayor Lewis Frost’s chest.
“Now, now, Marvin. You need to appreciate that Wonder Kids Clothes would be a real boon to our town. It’ll spread the tax base and take some burden off the residents.”
“That’s what you say. And it might help you city folks, but it robs those ninety acres from the township’s tax rolls.”
Mayor Frost didn’t miss a beat. “Not to mention that it will bring in thirty new jobs to start with. That’s thirty area people who will able to work close to home.”
“Hmmpf. Jobs, snobs. I’ve lived next to that farm all my life. What I can imagine are all the cars coming and going to get those thirty people to and from their jobs. Not to mention the semitrucks making deliveries and picking up the finished products. Nothing but a lot of noise disturbing the peace as far as I’m concerned. There’re places that are better suited for that plant and you know it. I’m not the only one in the township opposed to it, and you know that, too.”
Frost and Easterly were the only customers in either of our shops; a little break during the pre-Christmas season. My coffee shop owner friend, Pinky Nelson, had left to run a quick errand, and I’d stepped into my own shop—one that specialized in unique items and snow globes from around the world—to grab my cell phone moments before the argument ensued.
I hung in the background near the archway, between the front counter and the back sitting area, wondering what direction their disagreement might take. A number of early morning customers had talked about the Brooks Landing City Council meeting the night before. According to them, it had gotten so heated that Assistant Chief Clinton Lonsbury and Officer Mark Weston were on standby in case they were needed. And it was a good thing, too, because they’d had to escort several people out of the meeting before it got completely out of control. I patted the cell phone in my pocket. If the argument got any worse, I’d call on my police officer friend Mark for some help with this second go-round.
Marvin Easterly got in one last jab. “There are people wondering if you’ve got some special interest in that clothing factory, what with the way you’ve been talking it up. And I’m one of them, to tell you the truth. If you’ve been working some deal under the table, then it’s time to come clean about it.”
The bell on Brew Ha-Ha’s door dinged. City council member Harley Creighton burst in and didn’t even notice me plastered against the wall as he marched by. He stopped at the mayor’s table. “Am I interrupting?” Steam rose from the top of his head and out of Harley’s ears, nose, and mouth. It took me a second to realize it was from the cold December air he’d brought in with him.
Mr. Easterly stood up. “I was just leaving. And mark my words, Mayor, you have not heard the last of this.” He huffed and puffed all the way to the door.
Creighton pulled out a chair with force. Its legs scraped the floor, producing an irritating sound that grated on my nerves.
“What a fiasco our meeting turned into last night, Frosty. A doggone free for all, and it went downhill from there. You lost command of the meeting.” Creighton barely took a breath before he went on. “It’s bad enough you’re in favor of that microbrewery setting up shop here, encouraging folks into another bad habit. But suggesting that we use tax incentives to bring in
this clothing manufacturing business is irresponsible in my book. You’ve been pushing your own agenda too many times these last months and I’m sick of it. I quit.” He slammed his fist on the table, got up, rushed past me, and went out the door.
The mayor’s problems were getting worse by the minute. I’d heard complaints from a variety of people about local politics since I’d returned to my hometown of Brooks Landing. I’d served for years as the legislative affairs director for Senator Ramona Zimmer in Washington, DC. And because of that, people considered me a bit of an expert in the world of politics. I’d done more behind-the-scenes research for sound policymaking and hadn’t worked as much with legislators in the public domain, however.
The sentiment from a number of the city residents was that Lewis Frost had let his position as mayor go to his head more and more the last months, evidenced by things he’d said and done. Some people were surprised he’d been reelected in the last election for another two-year term. Word was that if he ran again he’d have trouble holding onto his seat. But that would be up to the voters when the time came.
I knew Frosty more as a faithful customer of Brew Ha-Ha and less as the mayor of Brooks Landing. I often read the minutes of the city council meetings in the local newspaper but didn’t recall anything special that indicated he was abusing his power in any way. I was interested in the goings-on, but managing Curio Finds for my parents and helping Pinky in her coffee shop captured most of my time and attention.
Elected officials were under public scrutiny, and that wasn’t always easy. I could attest to that. The senator I’d worked for had lost her reelection run after a much-publicized scandal involving her husband, Peter, and me. I was innocent, but Senator Zimmer fired me anyway, blindly believing her cheating husband instead of accepting the truth. After the incident, I’d lost a great deal of respect for both of them so it was just as well my working relationship with the senator had come to a screeching halt, devastating as that was for me.
I thought about Harley Creighton’s emotional words. Was he serious about giving up his seat on the city council? I was curious why he was so opposed to a microbrewery setting up shop in town. In addition to an off-sale municipal liquor store, Brooks Landing had a number of other establishments that served alcohol. Microbreweries were growing in popularity and sprouting up in other communities in the county as well. Folks loved supporting independent ventures, whether it was a winery or a microbrewery or a children’s clothing factory.
I understood why Mr. Easterly wanted to keep the westerly area around him rural but, on the other hand, I’d heard the farmer who was offered a tidy sum for his property was psyched up about it. There were always at least two sides to every story.
Mayor Frost noticed me hovering nearby and shook his head. “Camryn! What a fine mess we’re in.” We? “Did you hear Creighton say he’s up and quitting the council, and here it is three weeks before Christmas. Who are we going to get to step into his seat at this time of year?”
“I wouldn’t know, Mayor. It’ll take time to arrange a special election,” I said.
“No, fortunately we won’t have to do that. We’ll appoint someone to fill the last year of his term. If we can’t talk Creighton into staying on, that is. The good thing about the appointment process is all the time and money it saves. Elections aren’t cheap.” Frosty frowned like he was considering his options. “Harley Creighton and I have butted heads more times than I can count the last few years. And now that I think about it, I’m not so sure I’d be sorry to see him step down.”
The bell on the shop door dinged, announcing a new arrival. It was Rosalie Gorman, another city council member. The fire in her green eyes matched her flaming red hair. Had someone sent out an announcement that Brew Ha-Ha was the place to discuss city business that morning?
Rosalie came straight toward me looking far from pleased and it caused me to subconsciously brace myself. “The city clerk told me the mayor was here,” she said.
I nodded and lifted my hand, indicating the table where he sat. It was the city clerk who’d been alerting people where Frosty was, no doubt with his permission and blessing. It was to the mayor’s credit that he made himself available to everyone who wanted to talk to him.
Rosalie’s cold look pierced right through me. “If you’ll excuse us, there is something I need to discuss with Mayor Frost. In private.”
Her dismissal made me want to come back with, Then you shouldn’t be meeting in a public place. But I zipped my mouth shut, had a final glance at Frosty’s doomed-looking expression, and slipped away. If Rosalie wanted a cup of coffee she would no doubt summon me back. I didn’t want to cross her, if at all possible. She’d been in Curio Finds a number of times and I’d always given her a wide berth.
I moved behind Brew Ha-Ha’s service counter as Pinky came through the door bringing in a bag of groceries. A blast of arctic air clung to her long, willowy body. “Holy moly, Cami, it’s downright frigid out there.”
“It’s downright frigid back there, too. And the chill is not coming from our man Frosty,” I said quietly and pointed toward the table area with my thumb.
She lifted her shoulders and eyebrows as if to say What?
“Rosalie Gorman is talking to Mayor Frost.” We kept our voices low.
Pinky shivered. “Brrr, so you’re saying it’s about as cold back there as it is out there?” She moved her head left toward the seating area then right toward the outside wall.
“Pretty much. Rosalie is mighty upset about something.”
“Maybe I’ll creep in closer so I can hear what they’re saying.” Pinky lifted and lowered her eyebrows.
“Not a good idea, Pink.”
She shrugged. “Three different people stopped me at the grocery store to give me their two cents’ worth about the city council meeting last night. I’m not sure why they did that, either. Just about everyone in town should know by now how much I hate politics.”
“Not all policy decisions are political.”
She set her groceries on the back counter, blew some air out of her lungs, and threw up her hands. “Well, you could have fooled me. There is way too much bickering over every little thing, if you ask me.”
I held up the palms of my hands. “People have differences of opinion. And what constitutes a big issue or a not-so-big issue depends on where you’re sitting. That’s why we have a city council and a mayor as our local officials. It’s up to them to sort everything out and decide what needs to be done. But they can never please all the people all the time.”
“And that’s why I make a variety of coffees and other drink concoctions, and bake different kinds of muffins and scones. So there is something to please everyone.”
“You people pleaser you.” I reached over and gave Pinky a friendly pat on the back.
She smiled. “Yep. What time did you tell Emmy to come in?”
“Ten.”
“You know Emmy’s gotten pretty good making all the different drinks we serve. She’s not the fastest person on the planet but she makes up for it by being such a great worker.”
“Very true.” We’d hired Emmy Andersohn to help us over the Christmas season. She was in her early seventies and very reliable. We’d also hired Molly Dalton, but she’d tragically died at the end of her first day on the job. We were still reeling from the loss nearly a month later. Emmy had agreed to continue working for us despite the trauma she went through after getting arrested and jailed as the prime suspect in Molly’s murder. Thankfully, she was cleared a short time later.
“Pinky, won’t it be a relief to get into the January business slump? Getting here early and staying late is wearing us out,” I said.
“Your parents offered to lend a hand if we need them.” Pinky stepped away from the counter, removed her coat and hat, and laid them on a stool until the coast was clear and she could put them in her back room.
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p; “And they are helping by doing most of the ordering. Dad even connected with a new supplier of snow globes in Holland after they sent us a catalog. They have some unique ones so Dad placed an order, and it should be here today. At least I hope so. The snow globes have been flying off the shelves and out the door.”
“Well yeah. Christmas. Snow globes. Gifts. They all go together.”
Movement outside caught my eye and I pointed at the flakes falling. “As does snow.”
“Great, more shoveling,” she said.
The meeting between Mayor Frost and Councilwoman Gorman got boisterous. Rosalie’s voice went up several decibels and then there was a loud sound, like something had fallen. Pinky’s eyebrows shot up, then her face scrunched together. I felt mine do about the same thing as we took off for the back area.
The mayor was bent over picking up the chair that Rosalie had apparently knocked over. Accidentally or deliberately, we didn’t know. Her face was the color of beets. “You just better watch yourself from now on,” she said and pushed past Pinky and me without so much as a “pardon me.”
Mayor Frost noticed us gawking at him. “Rosalie gets overly excited about things at times. You get used to it,” he said.
My dad was expressive and more outwardly emotional than my mom, but he didn’t knock over chairs. “Is there anything we can help you with?” I said, and Pinky stuck her foot against my ankle, apparently leery of what I might be getting her into.
The mayor picked up his overcoat, brushed some crumbs off the front of it, and then slipped it on. “Oh, no, no. But thanks for the offer anyway. I’ve learned to roll with the punches. And not to get too upset when people misinterpret things or gossip about me for this or that reason.”
Gossip: one of Pinky’s favorite pastimes. The very word piqued her interest and she removed the foot she had planted on my ankle as she took a step forward. “Really? So, Frosty, what kind of stories are they telling about you?” she said, a little too brightly.
Frosty the Dead Man (A Snow Globe Shop Mystery) Page 1