Kiss or Kill Under the Northern Lights

by Susan Johnson

  Lee leaned forward, wrapped both of his hands around a cup of coffee, and said, “Actually we arrested two suspects this morning.”

  “Two? Oh, do tell us,” Brooke said. John tried to hush her, but Lee said it was okay because they had a confession. “Mason Carlyle, a cousin to William Weston signed a confession.”

  “The dead guy found in Henry's van?”

  Lee nodded.

  “You said two?”

  “The person who hired Mason was also arrested. We can't question her because she's asked for a lawyer.”

  I could not believe who would want to kill Henry. “Go on.”

  “Carlyle said Willy shot Henry, by accident. Suze Davis, also known as Star, told him the place was going to be empty. All Mason had to do was torch the place.”

  “Star?” I blurted. “Why would she want to harm Henry?”

  Lee shook his head. “She's not talking.”

  “I bet I can guess,” Carson said, surprising all of us and taking an open chair next to John. Brooke introduced Lee and John to Carson who winked at me. Oh my. Hot chili and hot guys made me feel all warm inside.

  Lee said to Carson, “What do you know?”

  “Not sure. Other than Star wanted Henry to take her on as a partner and make her a full time cook. She wanted to have something substantial lined up by the time she finished school. Culinary school.” Carson slowly stacked our empty bowls as if the movement would help sort his thoughts. “But instead Henry fired her. He caught her stealing money from the cash register.”

  “How much did she take?”

  Carson pressed his lips together. “Ah, I can't say. But in the short time I've known Henry, any amount would be too much for him.”

  Henry was a man for second chances. Something didn't ring true. There had to be more.

  “I better get back to work,” Carson said, as he stood. “Nice to meet you.”

  “I don't get it. If Star was stealing, why would Henry want to drop out of this competition?”

  Before anyone could pose a theory, a drum roll hushed the crowd, and news reporter Carley Swain stepped to the podium. The spotlight did her proud. She looked stunning in a floral off-the-shoulder dress.

  “Thank you all for coming tonight. While the final votes are being counted, I have a special guest who has a presentation to make. Please give a warm welcome to U.S. Army Brigadier General Mark Scott.”

  Once the applause died down, he said, “Thank you. I am here on behalf of the President to present a special citation to Henry Edmunds. Henry was supposed to be at the White House on this very day to receive this citation himself and have dinner with the President and First Lady.”

  To say you could hear a pin drop on the sawdust floor was an understatement.

  “The citation reads as follows:

  For exceptionally meritorious service while assigned to several key positions within the Operation Readiness, and Mobilization Directorate, Headquarters Department of the Army at Bagram Air Base in Afghanistan. First lieutenant Henry Edmunds provided outstanding leadership, exceptional service, and expert support in the coordination and completion of complex rescue operation of a school severely damaged by an earthquake in Kabul. Thanks to the efforts of him and his men, 87 children survived the horrible devastation. His selfless devotion to duty, and technical competence are in keeping with the finest traditions of military service and reflect great credit upon him and the United States Army.”

  A standing ovation and thunderous applause went on for a long time after Claire, his daughter, accepted the plaque and returned to her table. No dry eyes in this crowd.

  When Carley Swain regained her composure, she said, “I thank all the participants.” As she called their names she had them stand and take a bow.

  Three waiters carried trophies to the front of the room and stopped next to Carley Swain.

  “And now for the winners.”

  “Third place trophy goes to Mama's Pizzeria Plus.” Applause went on while the chef worked her way to the front. “Next, second place goes to Big Red's Ribs.” The chef looked thunderstruck and I was afraid he'd pass out before collecting his prize. “And now for first place. The winner is...Oh...” She looked stunned. She turned to the person who had handed her the results and then leaned into the microphone. “For the first time ever, we have a tie. The winners are Mad Dogg Catering and The Bent Fork Cafe.”

  There was so much noise I barely heard her say she had no idea how they were going to split the trophy and the money. But look for both to appear on Channel 5's Cooking Around The Twin Cities show.

  Dave Sheply shouted he was going to sue. Two bouncer-type guys, one on each side dragged him out.

  That was so exciting and so many people rushed to congratulate Carson, that I suggested we celebrate with Carson at a later time. Carson gave us a broad grin and waved. He was still grinning after a man threw an arm around his shoulders, drew him into a hug and kissed him full on the lips.

  It took a while, then when the excitement to died down, Carson came over and introduced Robert. After a brief chat, Carson said he needed to catch Carley Swain to tell her about the tribute cookbook he wanted to announce on her show.

  “They seem a perfect pair,” Brooke said. No one disagreed.

  John said to Brooke, “Come. Let's talk to Jordie.” They headed toward the Mad Dogg Catering booth leaving me alone with Lee.

  He smiled at me and before I lost all coherent thought, I said, “Why did you pretend we hadn't met?” He turned his gaze away from me as if scanning the room. A few moments later, those brown eyes grabbed hold of me, and then he said, “You didn’t need the hassle of an interrogation from my partner.” He took a few breaths and then added, “Besides, then I would have been off the case. I wanted to make sure we caught the criminals and we gave the prosecutor our best evidence.”

  “Wow,” was all I could say.

  Brooke and John came back saying they were going to watch the fireworks. Me? I had had enough of the noise and people and wanted to go home.

  Lee Hudson followed me. Once outside he put his arm around my shoulders and whispered in my ear, “Would you like to meet me for breakfast?” His warm breath tickled and turned on my excitement switch.

  I said, “Coffee too?”

  “If you wish.”

  “I wish.”

  About the Author

  Diane Pearson lives in Lake Elmo, a community that has a rural atmosphere but is so close to St. Paul, Minnesota that it feels like the suburbs. She says writing fiction keeps her sane and entertained. When she’s not reading or writing mysteries, she loves hanging out with family and friends, playing Pickleball, and engaging in “therapeutic” house cleaning.

  www.dianepearsonwriter.com

  Second Chances

  By Laura Ashwood

  Lindsey Harper is having a very bad week and it’s about to get worse. After her boyfriend, make that ex-boyfriend, takes someone else on their vacation, all Lindsey wants is to spend a few days alone at the family cabin. When her car gets stranded in the snow on her way there, the last person she expected to see coming to her rescue was Ryan Ford. She had fallen for him when she was a teenager, and after he broke her heart she vowed to never see him again.

  Ryan Ford was looking forward to spending a few days at his best friend, Logan Harper’s family cabin. He had a deadline to meet and the solitude was just what he needed. When he gets a call that Logan’s little sister is lost in the snow storm, he has no choice but to find her. Only she’s not so little anymore.

  Forced to spend the night at the cabin, will they get a second chance at love?

  1

  ~ Lindsey ~

  I shoved one last pair of thick socks into my hard-side suitcase, slammed the lid shut and yanked the zipper around to close it. “So I told him, ‘Have fun, Dean, I hope you step on a jellyfish and get a drink umbrella lodged in your a--’”

  “Whoa! You never swear, Linds.”

  My best friend, Hannah, was
right. I had spouted more profanity in the last half hour than I had in my whole life. “I know, Hannah. I just can’t help it. I’m supposed to be two margaritas deep on a white sandy beach right now, not packing my snow boots to go up north to the cabin!”

  Hannah turned toward me and put her hand on my arm. We were assigned roommates our first year in college at the University of Wisconsin and had been inseparable ever since. After graduation, we moved to Minneapolis and shared a cute little apartment in a turn of the century craftsman home that had been converted into a four-plex. It was quaint and full of vintage charm with its hardwood flooring, wide trim, and many built-ins. My favorite thing about living here was that it was across the street from Lake Calhoun, and within walking distance of the vibrant Uptown area. Hannah and I both worked downtown as paralegals, but in different law firms. We loved walking around Uptown when we got home from work to grab a bite to eat at one of the many eclectic eateries or window shopping at the indie boutiques that lined Lake Street.

  “We’ve been planning this trip for three months! It’s the one thing that got me through working all that overtime for the last couple of weeks, knowing the beaches of Jamaica were waiting for us. And then he goes and dumps me the day before we’re supposed to leave and runs off on our vacation with his new secretary. I mean really, could he be any more cliché?”

  I ran my fingers through my shoulder-length hair and pulled it up into a ponytail, securing it with a bright pink scrunchie. Plopping onto my fluffy white comforter at the edge of my bed, I gazed out the window. I could see a few young skaters with colorful hats and jackets playing tag on the ice skating rink across the street on the lake.

  “I was really looking forward to this trip, Hannah,” I said softly. “I needed this vacation, this break.” I swiped at the tear on my face with the side of my fist.

  “I’m so sorry, Lindsey.” Hannah tilted her head and let out an exasperated sigh. Her short black hair framed her bright blue eyes and petite features perfectly, and she still looked like she was eighteen. She was supposed to be taking me to the airport on her way to her fiancé’s parents’ house in Mankato for the week. She’d been dating Seth since high school and they were getting married in June. “Dean’s an arrogant jackass. You know, I never really liked him anyway. You can’t tell me you didn’t see this coming though, can you?” she said matter-of-factly. “I mean, you told me yourself you thought he had wandering eyes.”

  “Maybe,” I mumbled.

  Hannah was right, of course. She usually was, and she wasn’t afraid to call it like she saw it. Dean Benson was a first-year associate attorney at the law office where I worked. I’d met him last summer at our company gathering when we ended up sitting next to each other on the dinner cruise. We worked on different floors of our building, so it wasn’t surprising that we hadn’t crossed paths before that night. He was smart and handsome, but, if I had to be honest with myself, Dean was not a great boyfriend. He had forgotten my birthday, was awful at returning phone calls, and had a terrible habit of flirting with the waitresses when we would dine out. I had seen his shortcomings but tried to convince myself he didn’t really mean to be callous…but he was.

  Dean had been working late more than usual and was uncharacteristically hard to get hold of while I had been gone for Christmas. He had just hired a very pretty, very leggy secretary. From what I heard around the water cooler at work, she was looking for more than just a paycheck. Dean apparently decided he was ready to move on to blonder pastures.

  Honestly, I really wasn’t sure what I was more upset about: our breakup or losing out on white sandy beaches and a much-needed break from work. The truth was I gave my heart away a long time ago, had it broken, and never really got it back. Dean had never stood a chance.

  “I think you’re crazy for wanting to go to the cabin though, it’s supposed to snow. A lot. Are you sure about this?”

  Hannah’s question brought me out of my reverie. “Yes. I just need to get away from everything, and if I can’t go to Jamaica – the cabin has always been my favorite place to be. Even in winter.” I loved the cabin. It was about two hours north of Minneapolis on Pine Lake. I’d spent countless hours there over the years, fishing and swimming in the lake during the summer and cross-country skiing on it in the winter. It was my home away from home. “Besides, the snow isn’t supposed to come until late tonight. I’ll be fine. Gretch hasn’t let me down yet.” Gretch was my sage green 2010 VW Beetle. I got her in high school and although I could afford a car payment now, I couldn’t bring myself to trade her in.

  “Will Logan be up there?” Hannah asked.

  My brother Logan was five years older than me, and we had always been very close. Now that our parents officially were snow birds, we’d traveled together to their winter home in Mesa, Arizona to spend Christmas with them. I had flown back by myself the day after Christmas to take care of some last-minute stuff at work before I was supposed to leave on my vacation. I shook my head. “No, he stayed with Mom and Dad for the rest of the holidays. He’s coming home next week.”

  “And he’s okay with you going up there alone?” Hannah looked skeptical.

  “I haven’t said anything yet. I don’t need my mom lamenting about never having grandkids, and you know how Logan gets.” I rolled my eyes. “He’d likely end up tracking Dean down in Jamaica and I can only imagine how that would turn out. Not that I’d blame him.”

  Hannah frowned. “Come with me to Mankato! Seth won’t care. I don’t like the idea of you going there by yourself, Lindsey. It’s so remote.”

  “And exactly what I need right now. Some time alone to think and regroup. Hannah, I’ll be fine. And besides, you have all that wedding planning to do with Seth’s mom and sister, and I’m sure they’ll want you all to themselves.” Grinning, I nudged her with my elbow and stood up. I hefted my suitcase off the bed and walked out of my room, toward the front door.

  “Yeah, tell me about it,” she chuckled. “We do have a ton of stuff to get finalized this week,” she agreed, trailing behind me. “Okay, okay. You win, but you have to make sure you call me the minute you get there.”

  “Yes, Mother,” I laughed as I grabbed my coat and headed out the door.

  ~ Ryan ~

  “You sure it’s ok if I go up there then?” I asked.

  “Absolutely, I’m still down in Arizona with the folks, and Lindsey should just about be landing in Jamaica. Enjoy man, and get that book done!” My best friend, Logan Harper, clicked off the line. Lindsey was his younger sister and had been almost like a sister to me. I hadn’t seen her since Logan and I graduated from college, and that was almost eight years ago. She’d been about sixteen at the time and it had actually been at the cabin, come to think of it. She’d been such a tomboy when I’d met her, always on our heels. Just a kid really, and we’d taken to calling her “Tagalong.” The last time I saw her though, she was anything but. Way too hot for a sixteen-year-old and way off-limits to me, for a handful of reasons.

  Putting those thoughts aside, I finished loading up my truck and made the two-hour drive from my small apartment in St. Louis Park to Pine Lake. It had started snowing lightly while I was driving, and I was grateful I arrived before the storm hit. The meteorologists were expecting a doozy and had been talking about nothing else for the last few days.

  I lifted my brown leather duffel bag out of the back seat of my black F-150 and swung the door shut with my elbow. The truck had been a high school graduation gift from my mom. The snow was really starting to come down and created a postcard-like backdrop to the large cedar-sided cabin. The boughs on the trees surrounding the cabin were already thick with the fluffy white stuff and my boots left tracks on the path to the small deck on the front of the cabin. Next to the door were three clay pots that would contain vibrantly colored flowering plants come summer. I carefully lifted the middle pot out of its clay drain tray and picked up the key I knew was hidden underneath, and let myself in.

  The Harper’s cabin was l
ike a second home to me. I’d been coming here since I was a teenager. My mom and I had moved to Willow Creek when I was fourteen, and the Harper’s house was right across the street from our apartment building. Logan had been outside when we were unpacking our rented moving van and came over to check out my skateboard. We’d been best friends ever since. My mom was a lot older than my friends’ parents were, and my dad split when I was eight. Being an only child of a parent that liked her house very quiet, it was only natural that I spent a lot of time at the Harper house playing ball in the backyard or video games in their basement. They brought me with them whenever they went to the cabin, and it had become a special place to me for more than one reason.

  After college, I began going to the cabin during the holiday breaks from my teaching job to write. I always felt inspired up here, and it was a lot quieter than my apartment. Several years later, I wasn’t teaching anymore, but still came up here after the holidays every year to work on my latest novel and relax. Logan’s parents now spend their winters down in Arizona and had graciously given me full access to their cabin whenever I needed to “escape.”

  There were enough logs in the wood box to last through the rest of the day, so I pulled out some kindling and lit a fire in the stone fireplace in the great room. The orange glow warmed the room immediately, and I went back outside to bring in my groceries and my old electric typewriter. I preferred to type my first draft on an IBM Selectric, much to my editor’s chagrin. There was just something extremely tactile about typing on a typewriter, and it held a certain sentimental charm for me.