Miss Frost Braves the Blizzard

by Painter, Kristen

He slapped two menus down. “Coffee?”

  “Actually, I think I’m going to do a hot chocolate today.”

  His brows went up almost to his slicked-back pompadour. “Can I make a suggestion?”

  “Sure.” His suggestions were always worth listening to.

  “Small coffee, small hot chocolate in one large cup with a large swirl of whip.”

  “Huh.” I thought about that for a second. “Any chance of sprinkles?”

  “Every chance. Yes?”

  “Yes.”

  “Be right back.” He disappeared as Birdie stepped through the doors.

  I waved at her, and she broke into a big smile and came on back.

  “Hi, Princess.” She hugged me as I got up.

  “Hi, Birdie. Your hair is still blue.” She released me and I sat back down.

  She slid into the booth and shrugged. “Jack likes it, so I’m keeping it for a while.”

  Now my brows went up. “Jack? As in Jack Van Zant? I know he was one of your dates at the Black and Orange Ball, but when did you start to care what he thinks about your ’do?”

  Birdie’s cheeks took on a pink gleam. She toyed with the edge of her menu. “Since you were away.”

  Arty came back with one coffee and one tall mug topped with a mountain of whipped cream and chocolate sprinkles. “Hello, gorgeousnesses. Can I tell you about the specials?”

  Birdie pointed at my drink. “You can tell me what that is first.”

  He grinned. “Coffee and hot chocolate.”

  “I need that,” Birdie said.

  “Whip and sprinkles?”

  “Whip and sprinkles.”

  He nodded. “Coming right up.” He took off again.

  Birdie made a face. “Sorry. I should have let him tell us the specials first.”

  “No worries. They’re usually in the menu too.” I opened mine. “Yep, look. Ooo…apple pie waffles with caramel sauce and vanilla ice cream.”

  “Finally,” Birdie said. “A dessert that qualifies as breakfast. I’m in. With a side of bacon, of course.”

  I laughed. “A girl needs her protein.”

  “That’s right.” She pushed her menu to the edge of the table.

  I did the same, then sat forward and laced my fingers together over my placemat. “So. Back to Jack. Spill it. What’s going on?”

  “Well…to really do that, I have to go back to when I was babysitting Spider.”

  “Cool. We haven’t talked about that yet either. Two birds with one stone.” Then I winced. Jack was a familiar, and that particular kind of supernatural could shift into a raven. At least in his case, he could. Not sure every familiar was a bird shifter. “Sorry. I didn’t mean—”

  “Phfft. Forget it. Jack would.” She paused as Arty returned with her java mocha whip thing.

  “Here you go. Want to hear the specials, or are you ladies ready to order? Have any questions? What can I do for you?”

  Arty was definitely a morning person. I looked at Birdie. “I think we’re good to order, right?”

  She nodded. “Two of those apple pie waffle specials.”

  He took our menus. “With two sides of bacon, am I right?”

  I grinned.

  Birdie did too. “I love a man who listens.”

  “I’ll get this in for you ASAP.” Arty tucked the menus under his arm and headed to the kitchen.

  We got back to talking.

  “So what happened while I was gone? You two, obviously. But how? I want details.” I sipped my coffee drink. It was delicious. No surprise there.

  “Telling you this means I have to tell you something I’m not too proud of, Princess, but one of my New Year’s resolutions is to be more forthcoming. Did you make any resolutions?”

  I stilled. “No, and don’t change the subject. What happened?”

  She grimaced. “I opened the window for Spider, just like your note said to do, and…he got out.”

  I sucked in a breath.

  “But,” she continued. “It was fine. He was fine. We don’t even know if he really got out.”

  “Okay, back up. Start at the beginning.” I drank some more of my coffee hot chocolate. The sugar was very soothing.

  “All right, here’s what happened…” A few minutes later, she finished with a big smile. “And that’s how Kaley got Kizmet! Isn’t that great?”

  “It is. Wow, what an adventure.”

  “And Jack made you a whole new replacement screen. He’s very handy like that.” Her brows suddenly knitted together. “Are you mad?”

  “No, why would I be?” I was impressed with how far she’d gone to make things right. “You were just doing what I said to do. I have no doubt Spider saw something that interested him on the street below, leaned into the screen and popped it right out. He probably scared himself silly falling through. In fact, I bet he hid under the bed or the couch or someplace the rest of the day.”

  “Well, that would explain why we couldn’t find him.”

  “And you didn’t need to buy him a new collar. I want to pay you for that.”

  “Oh no, I don’t want your money.” She made another of those motherly phfft noises. “Poor thing was so worried you were going to be mad at him. I just wanted him to feel better, you know?”

  A weird vibe trickled through me. I leaned farther forward and spoke slowly. “How did you know he was worried?”

  “Because he—oh! That’s the other thing.” She leaned in. We must have looked like two spies trying to pass state secrets. She whispered at me, “Did you know Spider can talk?”

  I sat back. “Um, yeah, but he’s never done it around anyone but me. Otherwise, I would have given you a heads-up.”

  Birdie leaned back and shrugged. “Must have been the blue hair.” She sipped her drink.

  “Must have been.” I thought about that for a second. Spider was a strange little dude, but he must have really taken to Birdie to speak in front of her. “So listen, about that collar, what do I owe you? Ten bucks cover it?”

  “Princess, you stop that right now. Let’s just say it’s Aunt Birdie’s Christmas present to Spider and leave it at that, okay?”

  “Well, okay. But since you mentioned presents…” I reached into my purse. “I have something for you. My way of saying thanks for looking after Spider.”

  I slid the small silver and cobalt-blue wrapped gift toward her, loving the way her eyes lit up when she saw it.

  “Oh my,” she whispered. Then she looked at me. “Did you bring this back from the North Pole?”

  I nodded. “I did.”

  “And is that the royal Winter Court seal?”

  “It is.” I knew she’d like that little detail.

  She clasped her hands in front of her and sucked in a breath that got hitched up on a sniffle. “I think I’m going to cry.”

  “Don’t cry, you’ll make me cry. And no one wants tears in their waffles.” I blinked hard and grinned. I was a sympathetic crier and an ugly crier. Not a great combo. The last thing I wanted was to be out at breakfast with a bright red nose.

  My uncle always said I got that from Rudolph. That’s my uncle, funny guy. Bet you didn’t know Santa Claus was such a crack up.

  Birdie laughed. “Just happy tears because this was so unexpected and sweet!”

  I shrugged. “You took care of my cat for me. Go ahead, open it.”

  “I hate to ruin the wrapping. It’s so pretty. And that seal, I definitely want to save that.” She pried the tape loose on the back and carefully unwrapped the foiled paper to reveal the snowy-white square box underneath.

  She took the top off of that, rustled aside the tissue paper and gasped again. “Oh my stars, that is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

  “Well, I don’t know about that. But it was custom-made for you.” I couldn’t help but smile knowing what the box held.

  “Custom-made for me. Are you serious?”

  “For real.”

  She lifted the delicate hand-cut crysta
l snowflake pendant out of the tissue by the silver chain attached to it. The light caught it, sending a shower of rainbow sparks over the table. “It’s just so pretty. And sparkly.”

  “I’m glad you like it.”

  “Oh!” She sat back like she’d been slapped. But in a good way. “That’s the same snowflake from the Winter Court crest, isn’t it?”

  “It is. Made just for you by my father’s jewelers. That’s winter elf crystal. If you move the snowflake in the light, you can see a flash of blue inside.” I lifted one shoulder. “Winter elf jeweler magic.”

  My father’s jewelers had a technique for making crystal that caused it to hold strands of luminescent blue light inside, like a moonstone, but clear. It was very pretty, and very rare for a piece to leave the NP. If it did, it was usually because it had been given as a gift.

  “Well, it’s just gorgeous. I’m putting it on right now.” She reached back and attached the clasp, then adjusted the snowflake in the hollow of her throat. “How does it look?”

  “Lovely. Really picks up the blue in your hair.”

  She laughed. “Thank you so much.”

  “You’re welcome. Thank you for minding Spider.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Yes, well, that.”

  “Ooo, nice sparkler there, Ms. Caruthers.” Arty showed up with a tray of food. “I hope you’re ready to eat.”

  “We are,” I said. I was starving.

  He dished the plates out and we dug in, only chatting briefly for the first few minutes and then mostly about how amazing the apple pie waffles were, because they were everything I’d ever wanted in a waffle without realizing that’s what I’d wanted in a waffle.

  After a few more minutes, the edge was off our hunger and we returned to a more civilized demeanor. I sipped the glass of water Arty had brought me. “So, tell me more about Jack.”

  Birdie was all smiles. “I don’t know what there is to tell.”

  “Oh, please. Look at you being coy. Who are you, Birdie Caruthers? Spill it. How many times have you been out?”

  “Just twice since you were away. It hasn’t been that long.” Her smile remained even as she stabbed a warm apple chunk and just held it on her fork. “But he’s making me dinner this weekend.”

  “Wow. Nice.” I stabbed an apple chunk of my own, which I promptly ate. “I love when Sinclair cooks for me. He’s so good at it. And between us, a man that can cook is really sexy.”

  Her brows shot up. “Isn’t it? My lands.” She fanned herself before eating the piece of apple.

  “You know what? We should double-date. The four of us. Go out to Guillermo’s for a nice pasta dinner.”

  “Oh, come on. You and Sin don’t want to double-date with old people.”

  I frowned at her. “Not with old people, no. But we’d happily go with you two.”

  She laughed and shook her head. “You’re sweet. And that would be fun. I’ll ask Jack. I’m sure he’ll be up for it.”

  “Good. I’ll mention it to Sinclair.”

  We weren’t two minutes back into the remains of our waffles when Birdie’s phone buzzed.

  She glanced at it. “I better get this, it’s Hank.”

  “Hey, if the sheriff calls, you gotta answer.” I ate my last strip of bacon. I wasn’t intentionally eavesdropping, but I wasn’t trying not to listen either.

  “Hi, honey, what’s up? Having breakfast with—who?” Her brows knit together. “Oh, that’s so sad. But she was getting up there. Okay. Will do. See you in a bit.”

  She hung up.

  “Everything okay?”

  “Myra Grimshaw passed away. You wouldn’t know her, I don’t think. Unless maybe she’d ever come into your store, but I don’t know why she’d be shopping for toys. She was part fae, I believe. Nice woman. Quiet. Had to be well into her hundreds. Or older. You know how the fae age.”

  I did. Pretty much the same as elves. Very slowly and with little sign of time’s passage.

  “Anyway, her neighbor found the body, and Hank was just calling to tell me he wouldn’t be in straightaway because he has to stay until the ME, that’s the medical examiner, shows up to collect her. He’s on his way over there now to stay with the body. Poor thing.”

  I wasn’t sure if she meant Hank or Myra. “I’m sorry to hear that. Did you know her well?”

  “Not too well. Enough to say hi if I saw her at the Shop-n-Save, that sort of thing. Her great-nephew and Titus were in school together, if memory serves. I think he’s moved away, though. I think to California. Pretty sure that’s where her people are from. Anyway, it was sad when he left. She was so active in that boy’s life.”

  “Why didn’t she go with him?”

  “I suppose he wanted his own life. Might have been weird for his great-aunt to follow him out there.”

  “I suppose.”

  Her phone buzzed again. She glanced at it. “It’s Hank. By text this time.” She picked the phone up and read, then looked over the edge of the screen at me. “He wants to know if I can find you and bring you to Myra’s.”

  Odd. “Why?”

  She shook her head. “He didn’t say. You want me to ask him? He’s not always a fount of information over text.”

  “No, it’s okay. I have time. We can head over.” Wasn’t much left on our plates anyway.

  “You sure you’re okay with it?”

  “Sure. Why? Is there something you’re not telling me?” I put more than enough cash on the table to cover our breakfast and Arty’s tip.

  “Well, have you even seen a dead body before?”

  I let that sink in a moment. “Only at a funeral. But I guess that’s about to change.”

  Birdie drove, naturally, since I didn’t have a car. Myra Grimshaw’s place was in one of the older residential areas of town. It was nice and the homes were neatly kept, but they weren’t showplaces. Cute enough, though. Some of the mostly one-story cottages (like hers) had actual white picket fences outlining the yards. Seemed like a nice area to live in, but then, Nocturne Falls didn’t have any bad spots that I knew of.

  We parked on the street and walked through the gate and up the stone path to the front porch. Hank’s police car was in the driveway, along with an older gray sedan. The house was white with black trim and a blue door. There were yellow window boxes on the two front windows, but the plants in them were plastic.

  Maybe Myra had a brown thumb. Or maybe that was her way of keeping things bright during the winter months. Either way, I wasn’t judging. Plastic flowers were more cheerful than bare dirt.

  Birdie knocked. “Hank, we’re here.”

  He opened the door a second later. “That was fast.”

  “We were having breakfast,” I offered.

  “Thank you for coming.”

  “Sure thing.” I peered past him, not sure what I’d see. There was no body in the immediate viewing area.

  He cleared his throat. “She’s in the bedroom. Which is not where I need you.”

  I looked at him again. That meant no dead-body sighting. I was okay with that, but also strangely disappointed. “Okay.”

  Birdie put her hand on my arm as if to keep me from going anywhere. “What’s this about, Hank? The princess has a right to know.”

  “Easier just to show her.” He tipped his head, and just like that we knew to follow, so we did.

  My curiosity was piqued, but Myra’s house wasn’t giving anything away. It was about as normal inside as you might imagine an old lady’s house to be. Doilies on the chairs, flowered upholstery, an upright piano covered in family photos—mostly of one particular young man who I assumed to be her great-nephew—and a dish of hard candies on the coffee table. It smelled a little of peppermints and chicken soup. Maybe she’d been sick recently.

  I said as much to Birdie. “Had she been ill?”

  “I don’t know. Hank, had she been sick? The place does have that sort of smell about it.”

  “Not that I know of. The coroner will make that determination
.”

  “Will there be an autopsy?” I asked.

  He nodded as he took us through to the kitchen. “In a case like this, where there’s no obvious cause of death, yes.”

  “How old was she?” The place was tidy, I’d say that much. Not a speck of dust anywhere.

  “Hundred and seventeen.”

  “Probably natural causes, then, right?”

  Hank shrugged. “Maybe. But she was fae. That tends to extend a person’s years.”

  “It does.” I looked around the kitchen since we’d come to a stop. “Is what you wanted to show me in here?”

  “No.” He moved toward a door on the sidewall. “In the basement.”

  I cringed. Basements and I weren’t the best of friends. “Is it creepy?”

  “No.” He opened the door and headed down. The lights were already on.

  Birdie looked at me and shrugged.

  With no other choice, we followed.

  The basement was mostly finished off, which took away a lot of the creepiness I’d expected. Florescent lights and drywall were much friendlier than concrete block walls and bare bulbs. The floor was just plain cement, but the basement was just as clean as the rest of the house, which was nice. Not a cobweb in sight.

  Other than an old armoire against the far wall, the rest of the walls were lined with shelves filled with jar after jar of homemade preserves, jams, and jellies. One bottom shelf had a thick stack of old Tombstone newspapers, but all the rest held the little jars. The glass glistened in the light, showing off their juicy colors like rare jewels. Miss Grimshaw had apparently had a hobby. I approved.

  There was a deputy standing by the armoire, notebook in hand. “Sheriff.” He nodded at Birdie. “Ms. Caruthers.”

  Hank introduced me. “Deputy Jansen, this is Jayne Frost. Miss Frost, this is Dave Jansen.”

  I shook his hand, since he offered. “Nice to meet you, Deputy.”

  “You too.” He seemed a little nervous. Eager to please maybe. I’d never met him before, which didn’t mean anything really, but he gave off a very new-to-the-job vibe.

  Hank nodded at the armoire behind the deputy. It was a beast of a thing, but the dark wood was well-polished, making it seem cared for. So why keep it in the basement? “Open it up.”