WG2E All-For-Indies Anthologies: Winter Wonderland Edition

by Scott, D. D.

  Her gaze met mine and she knew I knew and she knew I knew she knew.

  Noreen, ever the leader, leaned into the pen. “What’s this?”

  She took the string of plastic beads and placed it in Olivia’s handbag. “Deputy, you can call off the search. Olivia found her necklace.”

  A short time later, the launch party assembled at the Skullduggery Inn for the candlelight reception. People stood in small groups, intently consuming Kiki’s cupcakes. I couldn’t say contentedly, because the whole slew of them had been in on the theft.

  Noreen and Olivia approached the center of the room. Noreen said, “May I have everyone’s attention, please?”

  All of the guests turned and gave the women their attention.

  “Olivia has something to say.”

  “As my mother wished, today I’ve donated my necklace to the charity league. It was hard to part with because I associated it so much with my mother, but I know it’s for the best of causes.”

  The room burst out in applause, although it could have been a little more enthusiastic. But then, most of them knew Olivia’s speech was mainly designed to keep the charity league out of trouble.

  Jenn approached me. “How did you figure it out?”

  “Anyone who reads a lot of mysteries probably would have, especially in light of a rather famous story taking place on the Orient Express.”

  She looked confused, but I should have realized she wouldn’t know what I meant. “In the story, everyone did it.”

  Her expression cleared. “Oh.”

  “I should have figured it out sooner, but it wasn’t until I remembered that the value of the necklace wasn’t in the setting, but in the gems. If Noreen hadn’t left her jewelry bag in the restroom, I might never have caught on.”

  “We needed the tools. I’m sorry I deceived you,” Jenn said. “But Olivia’s mother wasn’t well off and … there were some large debts.”

  “I’m not sure you did deceive me. You’re the one who suggested that Olivia might have stolen her own necklace.”

  Noreen had placed the necklace in the restroom for each member of the charity league to snip off a gem using the pliers and then glue the jewel in a place where it wouldn’t be easily found. They’d taken the idea of hiding in plain sight to a new extreme.

  I had to hand it to Noreen—she was organized. The whole group of them had performed as if they were a well-trained team of Navy Seals.

  It was a smart plan, but it was wrong and they all knew it. If it hadn’t been for Noreen’s strand of beads, I might never have put two and two together. “Will Olivia be okay?”

  Jenn shrugged. “She has a decent job; she just won’t be rich. Her dream of taking an Alaska cruise can be put on hold. I bet Noreen will see to it that Olivia can take out a low-interest loan to pay off her mom’s debts.”

  “At least the no-kill shelter will become a reality.”

  Jenn’s smile brightened. “There is that.”

  Noreen joined us and shot me a tight-lipped smile. “I never dreamed you’d discover our little plan.”

  Little? If she decided to take to a life of crime we’d all be in deep trouble.

  I’d been a patsy, chosen to give the group an alibi. Their plan had been to say they’d done an exhaustive search and I’d even patted down everyone, but the necklace had simply disappeared. I wasn’t happy about being manipulated, but when dealing with Noreen, I ought to be accustomed to it. “I don’t much like being used.”

  “Don’t think of it that way. Consider all of the publicity the Skullduggery Inn has received. No need to thank me.”

  My jaw almost dropped. She thought I should be grateful?

  I hadn’t realized exactly how much forethought had gone into their heist.

  Having the Winterland Express virtually on the inn’s doorstep was a huge benefit. This was their way of making it up to me, even if I never knew it? Talk about honor among thieves. Use me, manipulate me, but bring me the tourist trade?

  “Satisfied?” She nodded toward where Olivia still held court.

  “I could be more satisfied,” I groused. “I’d like to adopt Snuggles.”

  “I’m sorry, dear heart.” She gave my arm a consoling pat. “I’ve already adopted him.”

  My heart sank. This was the way she’d chosen to punish me for discovering their plan. It was probably for the best—raising a dog at the inn wouldn’t be easy. But Snuggles was absolutely darling.

  “I thought you were more interested in the kittens?” I pressed.

  “I enjoy playing with them, but my husband is allergic to cats. We both love dogs. You can visit him anytime.” At least Snuggles would have a good home with her. Despite her faults, and we all have them, Noreen would take excellent care of Snuggles.

  I had one question, though, and wasn’t quite sure how to broach it, so I decided on the direct approach. “Who came up with the idea for, um …” My words died on my lips.

  “I am the president of the Women’s Charity League and I take my responsibilities very seriously.”

  I could only imagine how she schemed with Olivia, and coerced the charity league members into going along with her plot. If the group could use a bake-off to convince Dolores to change shoes, there was no telling what other mayhem Noreen and her league of genteel hoodlums were up to.

  Just then my sister Kiki darted up. “Come quick, Ash. DeeDee’s husband just put something in the punch.”

  Dashing Through The Snow

  By

  T.M. Souders

  Chapter One

  “Here you go, Mrs. Petrie. I double-taped the box as you like, so it stays nice and fresh.” Wynn blew a wisp of brown hair out of her face.

  The flabby skin of Mrs. Petrie’s jowls pulled inward as she pursed her lips. “Did you dust it with extra coconut on top like I requested?” Her voice was indignant like always—well, ever since the one time Wynn forgot to dust the cake with a pound of coconut.

  “It’s a triple coconut cake. How much more coconut could she possibly want,” Gemma hissed under her breath.

  Wynn willed herself to maintain her smile. It was as stiff as plaster, but nevertheless, a smile all the same. “Sure did,” she said, in a syrupy tone.

  “Okay, then.” Mrs. Petrie nodded her big round head. Her double chin jiggled and her feathery blond hair moved like peep down. She paid Wynn and left the bakery without saying another word.

  Wynn turned to Gemma—her best friend, not necessarily her best worker—who leaned back on the counter, sipping a cup of coffee. “Okay, r-e-l-a-x. That’s it, remove the psycho killer smile,” Gemma said, coaching Wynn as the smile she cemented across her face morphed into a half grimace.

  Wynn opened and closed her mouth, unscrewing the tight muscles, before taking a deep breath. The chime on the door rang again, as it had all morning—typical of the holiday season. With Christmas only two weeks away, business was only bound to pick up.

  Turning, Wynn pushed her sandy hair off her shoulders and smiled at the next customer. “Can I help you?”

  The woman standing before her held one toddler on her hip while she clasped another one’s hand. “Can I get a dozen chocolate chip cookies and a large coffee?” The toddler in her arms reached for the dangling crystals on Wynn’s tiered cupcake holder, forcing a continuous game of cat and mouse with her mother who had to move her hand away repeatedly.

  Wynn smiled at the woman, whose eyes were red-rimmed. They held a hint of shadow beneath them, not quite concealed by her makeup, further exemplifying her exhaustion. Wynn turned to Gemma just as the two children started whining, and the mother sighed.

  “Gem, can you make it a dozen with two to go?”

  “Now? I’m taking my break.” Below choppy, black bangs, Gemma blinked.

  “When aren’t you taking a break?” Wynn stared at Gemma until she sighed and set her cup down, exaggerating the gesture to emphasize the inconvenience of actually working. Wynn smirked, retrieving the woman’s coffee. The boxed
cookies, with two wrapped in wax paper, were waiting for her when she returned to the counter.

  “Here you go. Take these for the road.” Wynn handed each toddler a cookie, instantly ceasing their complaints the second they put the treat to their lips.

  “Thank you.” The mother’s eyes shined with gratitude, and the reverence in her voice was almost amusing. She paid and took the box of cookies and coffee Wynn offered, then ushered the now happy children outside.

  Wynn glanced at the platters, cake holders, and tiered trays—everything made of crystal, glass, or silver, a stark contrast to the gleaming black counters and creamy walls. Already, the crowd had nearly cleaned her out, making her glad she prepared extra pastries that morning. The increase in sales didn’t surprise her though. It was a direct reflection of the influx of holiday shoppers.

  The door buzzed again, but this time, when Wynn glanced up, she froze. He paused in the doorway and flashed Wynn one of those weak-in-the-knees, killer grins. Behind her, Gemma sucked in a sharp breath before scurrying to her side.

  “It’s him,” Gemma whispered to her. Her straight, black hair brushed the side of Wynn’s face. And as if Wynn’s eyes and her announcement weren’t enough, Gemma jabbed Wynn in the ribs for good measure.

  It amazed her how alert and fast Gemma could move when truly motivated by a gorgeous piece of man flesh.

  “I can’t stand the sexual tension anymore. You two have been drooling over each other for five years. Ask him out. Come on…” Gemma nudged her.

  Turning, Wynn shot her a warning glare and rubbed her throbbing side. “No.”

  “Don’t be such a wimp.”

  “I’m not asking him out.” Wynn said, eyes wide.

  “Ask him to grab a drink with you tonight. If you don’t, I will.”

  Wynn narrowed her eyes. “You wouldn’t. Besides, I just broke up with Kevin.”

  “You broke up with Mr. Pecker almost two months ago.” Gemma spoke through clenched teeth.

  “What?” Wynn shook her head, her forehead scrunching in confusion. The shuffle of footsteps behind her and the jingle of keys signaled Zane’s approach. Tingles shot down Wynn’s neck to her arms. “Why are you calling him Mr. Pecker?” Her heart rate accelerated, making her feel lightheaded. Please God, don’t let him hear us whispering.

  “I’m calling him Mr. Pecker because he’s a pecker head, and all he thinks about is his little pecker.”

  The shuffle of feet and movement at the counter behind her stopped Wynn from replying. She snapped her gaping mouth shut and spun around. Zane stood in front of her, dashing as ever in his dark suit. He shoved his hands in his pockets and smiled. “How are the Murphy sisters today?” he asked.

  From the corner of her eye, Gemma’s idiotic smile widened—it was hard to miss with her Max Factor, ruby slipper lips. She loved it when he called them that—his little nickname for the inseparable duo.

  Wynn wiped her sticky hands on her pink, Murphy’s Bakery apron, hoping to wipe away her nerves as well as the sugar. “We’re good. Busy.”

  Another customer entered the store and got in line behind Zane, eyeing the display case of baked goods, but Zane didn’t seem to notice. His eyes zoned in on Wynn. “Not too busy I hope. What will your boyfriend think if you let this place keep you away from him?”

  Wynn gave him a half smile. “What can I get for you? The usual?”

  The sigh behind her, loud enough to be heard by all the shop patrons, signaled Gemma’s unhappiness at Wynn’s lame reply and abrupt change in conversation.

  Zane’s smile faltered, but his blue eyes remained warm. “Yep. You know me…”

  Wynn moved away from the counter and retrieved his black coffee then looked to Gemma for his piece of pie. Gemma crossed her arms in front of her chest, exaggerating each movement with an unwavering death stare plastered across her face. Her body language was clear. There was no way she was about to help Wynn since she flubbed up. Sighing, Wynn removed the pumpkin pie from the glass case and put the largest slice in a to-go container.

  The rhythmic sound of Zane’s drumming fingers filled the silence, as she returned to the counter in front of him.

  “You know, we’re throwing a Christmas party at work. We could use someone to make the desserts. I was wondering if you might be interested.”

  Gemma, suddenly mobile, stepped forward and interjected. “Of course we’re interested.”

  Surprise registered on Zane’s face at Gemma’s abrupt intervention, but when he glanced over to Wynn, his face brightened. “Great. Do you still have my business card?”

  Did she have his card? Wynn recalled the day, only one short week after opening, when Gemma convinced her to setup a mock contest for all of the local workers in the Pittsburgh area. All they had to do was drop their business card in the bowl, and they were entered to win a week worth of coffee. Zane came in mid-morning, his usual time, and after some prompting from Gemma, dropped his card in. The second the door closed and he was out of site, both Wynn and Gemma reached their hands into the bowl and snatched up the card. They read together with the zest and excitement of teenage girls, marveling at the perfection in the name Zane Anders.

  Gemma bumped hips with Wynn, bringing her back to the present. “Yep. She still has it.”

  The blue of Zane’s eyes lingered on Wynn a moment longer, before nodding and glancing at Gemma. “Great. It’s the twenty-third. Give me a call and we can discuss it.”

  “Okay. I’ll do that.” Wynn handed him the piping hot cup of coffee along with the pie. “Can’t beat a good piece of pumpkin pie,” she said, as he handed her six dollars.

  Zane smiled, meeting her gaze. “Nope, and once you find the best around, you can’t stop yourself from coming back for more. Everything else dulls in comparison.” He turned around, not bothering to wait for his change. A brief look over his shoulder and a nod towards the women accounted for his goodbye.

  Once he was out of ear shot, a nearby Gemma, mocked her. “Can’t beat a good piece of pumpkin pie. Genius.”

  Chapter Two

  Snow fell to the ground, covering everything in sight with a thick, downy blanket of white. It was the kind of snow that fell in tufts, resembling something closer to cotton balls as opposed to delicate flakes. Cars whizzed by despite the inclement weather; while others took their time as if the whole world had nothing better to do than wait for them.

  Shoppers were out in full force. As always, Wynn marveled at the amount of people that waited less than a week before Christmas to do the bulk of their shopping. People walked past her, dozens of bags hanging over arms piled high with apparel, bumping into fellow shoppers and glaring at them as if it were the other patrons’ fault. Another thing, among many, that marveled her—people’s uncanny ability to get unnaturally nasty when shopping during the holidays.

  It’s Beginning to Look A Lot Like Christmas played over Macy’s speakers in full force holiday cheer while Wynn watched on as Gemma debated for the millionth time between the Dooney & Bourke handbag or the Coach one.

  She held both bags out, examining each with the detail of a Gemologist. “I love the colors in the Dooney & Bourke, but the Coach is more practical, classic. I don’t know. What do you think?” She turned towards Wynn, her face expectant.

  Bored with the purse analysis, Wynn gathered her shoulder length hair, freshly highlighted in honey tones, into a makeshift ponytail and wrapped a hair band around it. “I don’t know, Gem. Just pick one. I thought we were supposed to be shopping for gifts?”

  Gemma glanced up, narrowing her eyes. “I am. This is my gift to myself. I’m allowed to indulge myself with one gift.” She sniffed and tilted her head upwards, inspecting the Coach purse once again.

  Wynn rolled her eyes. “You’ve bought four things. And so far, they all have been for you.”

  “Whatever. Fine. I won’t get either of them then.” Gemma handed the purses back to the sales lady, who shot Wynn a disgruntled look. “I don’t know why you have to be such a
Debbie Downer, just because you have, like, a million people you shop for and don’t ever bother to buy yourself anything.”

  Despite her better judgment, Wynn laughed. “You have people you could exchange gifts with if you wanted, you just choose not to.”

  “That’s because by the time you’re done buying for everyone on your list, you’ve spent hundreds of dollars, maybe even thousands. And you have gotten the same amount of things in return, except the things you’ve gotten are either useless or things you just flat-out don’t want. So…you can just save yourself all the trouble in the first place by making the decision not to buy for each other then you can go out and spend all the money you would’ve spent buying for others on yourself. In the end, you get what you really want for the same amount of money, if not less, and so does everyone else. Plus, you don’t have a room full of junk on Christmas morning. Everyone wins. My way is genius, really.”

  A laugh escaped Wynn as she shook her head. She led them past the perfume counters towards the jewelry section, successfully sidestepping the employee trying to sell the new Donna Karan scent. Gemma’s family was the only one she knew in existence which had the means to buy anything they wanted for each other on Christmas, but just chose not to.

  “Besides, I bought you a gift,” Gemma said, reaching over and yanking Wynn’s hair band out. “You just got this done and you’re going to hide it?” She flipped a hand through Wynn’s glossy locks.

  “Yes! A prime example of a useless gift.”

  Gemma scoffed. “Useless? If you don’t like movie star hair, then I guess you’re right. You’ll be thanking me when Mr. Gorgeous asks you out again.”

  A display of costume jewelry caught Wynn’s eye. She stopped and picked up a black necklace, adorned with crystals and beads of varying sizes. “Again? You know that wasn’t a date, right?” Wynn recalled her drink out with Zane. It consisted of a haze of nerves and paranoia at her fear that he was dissecting everything about her—the way she looked, her clothes, everything she said. She winced at the memory. “Hey, what do you think about this to go with the sweater I got my mom?”