Jansen tucked his notebook under his arm, turned and pulled the double doors wide.
My mouth fell open. “Son of a nutcracker. Are you kidding me?”
“That’s why I asked Birdie to bring you over.”
The inside of the cabinet was shelves from the middle down. Those shelves were filled with all sorts of knickknacks, trinkets, boxes, packages and whatnots. There was even a commemorative cup from one of my father’s coronation celebrations. But from the middle up, the cabinet was open space.
And every inch was covered with newspaper clippings. Almost all about my family. Most with pictures.
“That’s my dad. And my aunt. Me. My mom. My uncle. Christmas on a cracker, we’re all up there.”
“Did you know Myra Grimshaw?”
“Not in the slightest.” I took a step toward the cabinet so I could read one of the articles, but it was hard to focus on just one. The armoire was like a shrine to the Winter Court. I reached to smooth the paper of one clipping.
“Don’t touch anything. Please.”
My hand stopped midair.
“Hank,” Birdie chided. “It’s not a crime scene.”
“We don’t know cause of death yet.”
I held my hands up. “Sorry. Hands off.” Then I went back to checking out the articles. I scanned a few of them. They were mostly things like store openings, parade scenes, official functions that weren’t all that serious. I finally turned to the sheriff. “These articles are all about my family from what I can tell, and all from one newspaper, the Christmas Star. That’s the local North Pole paper. The fact that she has clippings from that paper—and some recent ones at that…” I shook my head as I checked a few more dates. Maybe not that recent. The most current one I could find was just under a year old.
“What?” Hank asked.
“It’s weird. The Christmas Star is a local paper. Like the Tombstone in Nocturne Falls. Except, it’s not delivered outside of the NP. And especially not to someone who isn’t a winter elf.”
His eyes narrowed and he nodded. “Someone was sending it to her.”
I stared at the wall of articles, but then my gaze drifted down to the shelves. “Hold on just a hot Christmas minute.”
I bent down to get a better look at something I never thought I’d see anywhere outside of my office or apartment. A snow globe. It was almost exactly like mine, like the ones I used to communicate with my family back in the North Pole. The only difference was the slim, red velvet ribbon tied in a bow around where the globe met the base. “How is that possible?” I whispered.
The magical snow globes were what we used instead of cell phones. Electronics and the weird electrical stuff at the North Pole didn’t mix, making standard methods of communication basically unusable. But to my knowledge, no one outside of my family had one.
“How is what possible?” the sheriff asked.
I looked over my shoulder at him. I wasn’t ready to spill court secrets just yet. At least not with Deputy Jansen listening in. “This woman has things she shouldn’t have.”
“Such as?”
I stood. I could only imagine what else I might find in this cabinet. And considering the personal nature of what it held, I ought to be allowed to look through it. Which meant I was going to have to share the significance of the snow globe if I wanted the sheriff’s go-ahead. But I still didn’t want to discuss the snow globe in front of a deputy I didn’t know. Hank and Birdie, I could trust, but Deputy Jansen? I mean, I was sure he was a nice guy, but this was proprietary elf magic here.
As if understanding my hesitation, the sheriff gave the deputy a look. “Jansen, run up to the car and call the ME. See what’s taking so long.”
“You got it, Sheriff.”
As Jansen’s footsteps faded away, the sheriff’s brows went up. “Better?”
“Yes, thank you.” I pointed toward the snow globe. “That’s top-level elf magic. Nobody has one of those but members of my family. That I’m aware of. I’ll call my dad and ask as soon as I get into the office.”
The sheriff made a face. “The snow globe? How is that magic?”
I had to tell him. “It’s how we communicate. Electronics are completely unreliable in the North Pole due to all the extra magnetic interference, so we use the globes. It’s all elf magic, and I don’t begin to understand it, but I know enough to know the fae Myra Grimshaw shouldn’t have one.”
He was silent a moment. “See anything else that doesn’t belong?”
I turned back to the cabinet, skimming over the shelves.
“I do,” Birdie said.
I glanced at her in time to see her pull a pen from her purse.
She used it to nudge a piece of paper out of the way, revealing a small glass paperweight. Except it wasn’t glass, it was winter elf crystal. The exact same kind that made up the snowflake pendant I’d just given her. Birdie looked at me. “Should she have that? You said it was rare and not usually seen outside of the North Pole.”
“Wow, no. I mean, maybe it was a gift. She clearly knows someone in the North Pole, but—”
“Knew.” Birdie shrugged.
“Right. Knew.”
“What is it?” the sheriff asked.
I explained about the crystal.
He sighed. “None of this means her death was anything besides natural causes, but it certainly raises some questions.”
Birdie put her hands on her hips. “Who’s the next of kin?”
“Her great-nephew is coming out to claim the body. Should be here tomorrow.”
“Nate?”
Hank nodded.
Birdie patted my arm. “That’s the boy who went to school with Titus that I was telling you about.”
My attention was on the armoire, but I managed a response. “I guess Titus will be excited that he’s coming to town. Always nice to see an old friend.”
Hank snorted. “I wouldn’t say Nate and Titus were old friends. Rivals more like it. Friendly enough, but still.”
Birdie nodded, a knowing look on her face. “They were both after the same girl.”
“Charlene Paris Monroe.” Hank’s gaze had gone somewhere far away. “She was a pretty little thing.”
“Who’d she pick?”
“Neither one of them.” He came back to the present. “Her head was turned by a boy a year older. Brett Gonzales. He had two things Nate and Titus didn’t.” He broke into a rare grin. “A license and the keys to his daddy’s car.”
“Sheriff?” the deputy called out as he came down a few steps. “The ME just pulled in.”
“All right, I’ll be up.” Hank looked at me. “I can’t stop Nate from taking possession of these things. As far as I know, this house and everything in it goes to her kin.”
“I understand that. But I might be able to stop him. Well, my father might be able to. Royal court order.”
“But she was fae,” the sheriff countered. “If her people want to, they can tie the whole thing up with a supernatural magistrate.”
He was right. Inter-species supernatural judicial matters could take forever. Within a species, however, things usually went quickly. “Except I don’t think she was fae,” I said. “I think that’s just what she told people.”
The sheriff’s eyes narrowed. “You think she was winter elf?”
“That’s what my gut is saying. And if you let me see the body, I might be able to tell.” I didn’t really want to see Myra Grimshaw’s corpse, but if it meant protecting my kingdom’s secrets, I’d do what I had to do.
The sheriff pondered that for a moment, then tipped his head. “Follow me.”
Okay, I’ve seen dead people before. It’s not like I’ve never been to a funeral. But those people have already been fixed up by the mortician. What I’ve never ever seen is a dead person right where they died. In what might technically be a crime scene. (Call me paranoid, but I wasn’t ruling anything out.)
So in that regard, this was a completely new and sort of uncomfortable situa
tion.
Also, we were in Myra’s bedroom, which added another layer of strange. Or maybe it was just me, but being in someone’s bedroom was like entering their inner sanctum. And we most definitely hadn’t been invited.
Probably why we were all so quiet.
Myra didn’t look that dead. Really, she looked like she was sleeping. She was a short, roundish woman with wispy hair so white it was faintly blue. That might have been from a rinse like Birdie’s, or it might have been because of the winter elf blood formerly pumping through her veins. (Yes, I was sticking with that.) She was also pretty pale, but it was winter, and in Nocturne Falls, pale wasn’t that unusual. Hello, vampires, I’m looking at you.
Regardless, I thought I would have been able to tell if she was a winter elf just by looking at her. I couldn’t. I mean, sure, she looked like one, but in retrospect so did a lot of other people in town. Having blue hair wasn’t just an elf thing anymore. And just because she had pointed ears didn’t mean she was an elf. She could have been fae like she claimed.
I sighed, finally breaking the silence. “Snowballs. I can’t tell if she’s a winter elf or not.” So much for helping the situation.
Birdie looked at me. “What now?”
“What now,” Hank said, “is the ME takes the body.”
“But we still don’t know how she got all this winter elf stuff,” I said.
“I understand that,” he said. “And I know you’re concerned about it, but verifying the ownership of those things isn’t my immediate job here. Seeing that Myra is properly looked after is. Unless you can provide proof they were stolen. Which would actually be a new case.”
“I can’t give you that. Yet.” The sheriff was using a tone that made me think he was trying extra hard to be patient with me, so I did my best not to get frustrated. I understood that he had a job to do, but Myra had things that didn’t really belong to her. Mostly the snow globe, but that crystal was questionable. And who knew what else was in that armoire? I couldn’t see letting those things go to her next of kin, either. Unfortunately, I wasn’t quite sure how to argue with his point, so I settled for a displeased expression instead.
He stuck his thumbs in his belt. “I know you’re concerned about those things getting out into the world, but unless I have a royal court order, there’s nothing I can do.”
I tried to look sweet and innocent and like a person who should get her way. “Couldn’t I just take the snow globe and the crystal and—”
“Miss Frost.” He crossed his arms. “You’re not suggesting I allow you to steal Myra Grimshaw’s property, are you?”
That was exactly what I was doing. “No.”
His expression softened, and he dropped his arms back to his sides. “Talk to your father. Get me some official paperwork and I’ll do what I can. Right now, however, I need to go speak to the ME and let him take Myra out of here.”
“Or!” I stuck my finger in the air. “I do have another idea…”
He and Birdie looked at me.
I wasn’t sure I should even suggest this, but I was dying to know how Myra was connected to my family, because I felt like that might help me figure out how she’d gotten those NP trinkets. I had so many questions. Was she linked to the North Pole in a lineage kind of way? Or just a royal-family stalker? It happened. People got obsessed with us. And how on earth had she gotten that snow globe?
“Tell us your idea, Princess,” Birdie said.
I took a breath. “We could call Sinclair.”
Hank’s eyes narrowed. “Are you suggesting…”
Birdie spoke up. “That’s a great idea, Princess.”
Hank glared at his aunt. “No, it’s not.”
“Why?” I asked. “That’s his skill set. That’s what he does. Why not let him do his thing? This is exactly the kind of situation where he can be useful. And I bet he’d want to.”
Hank seemed to be thinking about it. “Kind of a violation of the dead person. Don’t you think?”
Birdie snorted. “Hank, she’s dead. What does she care?”
“That’s what I was thinking,” I said as I pulled out my phone. “I can text him. See if he can run over here.”
Hank grunted a firm, “No.”
The inflexibility of that word made me put my phone away. It didn’t, however, stop me from sighing loudly and with great frustration.
He clearly got my mood but didn’t care. He wasn’t budging. “Talk to your father first. Let’s not bring anyone back from the dead just yet because of a snow globe.”
I frowned. Obviously, the sheriff didn’t get the seriousness of keeping that snow globe from falling into the wrong hands. “It would just be temporary. Long enough to ask her a few questions.”
He repeated his earlier statement. “Talk to your father first. Now I’m going outside to meet the ME.”
He left Birdie and me alone in the room with Myra. Which was weird, I couldn’t lie. Like, super weird. Myra might have been dead, but her presence felt very much alive. I don’t mean that her ghost was there or anything like that, just that it was impossible to pretend I wasn’t in the same room as a dead woman.
I nudged Birdie’s arm while keeping my eyes on Myra. “Maybe we should wait in the other room?”
Birdie nodded. She’d been clutching her purse to her chest like a shield and seemed pretty happy about leaving Myra to rest in peace.
When we were in the living room, she finally spoke. “How do you think Myra got all those articles about your family? Why would she have them? And all those mementos? Do you think she was in love with your dad, or obsessed with your family, or something else I haven’t thought of?”
“Beats me.” Through the front windows, I could see the sheriff on the lawn talking to the ME. “I guess my dad is the most likely target. She could have had some kind of crush on him or something. Which is odd if she’s not a winter elf, but maybe not that odd. Most supernaturals know who he is.”
Birdie nodded vigorously. “Jack Frost is kind of a celebrity in the supernatural world. So is your uncle. And he was in a few of the articles.”
“Sure, but given the whole ‘belly like a bowl full of jelly,’ I don’t think most women find Santa Claus quite as sexy as Jack Frost. Unless they’re into dad bod.” I wrinkled my nose. “I can’t believe I’m talking about how comparatively sexy my dad and uncle are. This is not at all the conversation I thought I’d be having this morning.”
“I’m sure.” Birdie was trying not to smile, I could tell. It was funny. In a bizarre sort of way.
I twirled a strand of hair around one finger as I thought. “But for anyone to be that obsessed with the Winter Court of the North Pole to collect all those clippings and keepsakes…yeah, that’s not completely standard behavior.”
“Is it more, or less, weird if she’s actually a winter elf?”
“I don’t know. Less, maybe, because if she was a winter elf and had lived at the North Pole at some point in her life, at least she’d probably had contact with my dad. Or if not contact exactly, she would have been around him. More so than if she was fae. So she’d have had a more reasonable opportunity to fall in love with him. Or get obsessed with us. I guess. But being a winter elf would also explain how she was getting the Christmas Star sent to her, because she would probably still have family in the NP. But you said you thought her people were in California.”
Birdie shrugged. “That’s what I thought, yes. But I can do some research into that. See what I can find out.”
Birdie was awesome at that kind of stuff. “That would be great. In the meantime, do you think I could have a picture of her to show my dad?”
“You want to take a picture of her?”
I looked around. All the framed photos were of friends and family. I assumed that’s who they were, the ones who’d lived on the West Coast. There were a few pointed ears visible, but nothing that screamed winter elf to me. Too bad physically taking one of her framed photos was probably something the sheriff would cla
ssify as stealing. “Unless you see one lying around that your nephew wouldn’t mind me borrowing, I guess I have to. Is that weird?”
Birdie looked back toward the bedroom. “Not any weirder than anything else that’s happened today.”
I ended up taking pictures of Myra and her cabinet to show my dad, who I called on my snow globe the second I walked into my office.
He answered right away with a big smile. “Morning, Jay. How are you?”
“Good.” Everything else was weird, but I was good. “How are you?”
“Better now that my darling daughter has called me.”
I laughed. “You say that now, but you don’t know why I called.”
“True. What’s up?”
“Does the name Myra Grimshaw mean anything to you?”
He was silent a few seconds while he thought. “Can’t say that it does. Who is she?”
“She’s a resident here in town. Or was. She passed away recently. But the reason I’m calling is she has quite a collection of North Pole goods. Including a snow globe and a piece of winter elf crystal.”
“A snow globe? You mean the kind we use for communication?”
“That’s what it looks like. Just like the ones we use, except—”
“That shouldn’t be.” He frowned, his mind working hard on explanations, if the lines in his forehead were any indication.
“That’s why I’m calling you. And there’s more.”
The smile on his face was completely gone now. “What else?”
“She had pictures of you, Mom, Uncle Kris, the whole family. All in clippings from the Christmas Star. Any article that talked about us, basically.”
He stared at me through the globe. “Like in a scrapbook?”
I pulled up the photo on my phone. “Like in a cabinet that was basically a Winter Court/North Pole shrine.” I held the phone up so he could see.
A long, quiet moment passed.
“You have got to be kidding me.”
I took the phone away. “I wish I was. It was pretty strange. You sure you don’t know her?”
He shook his head. “The name isn’t ringing any bells, but I’m going to ask Elf Resources if they have any record of her. Do you have a photo of her?”
Miss Frost Braves the Blizzard Page 3