Branson ordered the desserts, and though I couldn’t tell what words he was about to say, there was a spark, a change in his demeanor, and I couldn’t let him go wherever he was about to go.
“So where were you? I tried to call and text last night and this morning.” I smiled to let him know I wasn’t angry and tried to include in the expression an apology for stopping whatever was about to happen the second before. “Not that you need to stay by your phone for me, but I truly did try to do the right, proper citizen sort of thing.”
What I thought was disappointment flitted across his face, but it was gone quickly, and when he laughed, it didn’t sound forced. “You’re not attempting to cause me to feel bad for making it possible for this whole thing to go exactly how you would’ve wanted.”
He really did have my number. “I didn’t imply anything of the kind, and I definitely didn’t say you needed to feel bad. I was merely asking. You just got back from being out of town for a couple of weeks, on a trip you said wasn’t exactly a vacation, but not exactly work. Same thing last night and this morning?”
For the first time, he looked uncomfortable, and maybe a touch… panicked? Whatever it was, it was gone in a flash and his easy charm returned. “Yes. Something like that again.”
I waited for a second, thinking he was going to continue, then realized that was the only answer I was going to get. Which was fine. He didn’t owe me one, especially since we weren’t on a date. Even if we kind of were.
But for whatever reason, that hesitation allowed a thought of Leo, his warm, honey-brown eyes, and his deep, soft voice to flash into my mind.
Nope. That wasn’t happening either.
“And you’re right, Sergeant Wexler. I’m glad things went down just as they did.” For whatever reason, it seemed like I was mostly an open book to Branson, so I only hesitated for a second before deciding to ask what I really wanted to know. “Did you happen to run into Officer Green today? I was wondering if she had any… thoughts about the situation.”
He chuckled, this time the sound fully heated, and there was that spark again. “You might be on the right side of the law and have an uncanny knack for solving murders, Fred, but you’ve got just a touch of wickedness in you.”
I shook my head. “Not true. Not at all. Just ask my mother. She’ll tell you.”
“Then she’d be wrong.” Branson once more lifted his glass of wine my way. “And I’m glad of it.”
Before he’d finished his sip, our tiramisu and cannoli were delivered. And I discovered that if I’d been willing to pay thirty dollars a bite for the pasta, I’d have to triple that for the desserts.
Watson and I spent Christmas Eve finishing the nonfiction room. Watson didn’t so much shelve books as nap, snore, and occasionally beg for treats, but just having him act fully like himself was more than enough help. Katie kept calling from Denver, wanting more measurements on the floor space of the kitchen. I had a feeling she was spending a small fortune—possibly a gargantuan fortune—on equipment. Percival and Gary brought down the Victorian sofa and lamp and arranged them by the river rock fireplace. Even though I hadn’t started on shelving any of the mystery books, it was the only confirmation I needed to prove that it truly was going to be my favorite nook in the store.
By the time the sun set at a little after four in the afternoon and the streetlamps and Christmas lights twinkled on outside the window, I finally got up the nerve to do what had been in the back of my mind all day.
Remembering my coat and gloves, and feeling safe enough to not only put a collar and leash back around Watson’s neck but also a green snowflake-patterned scarf, we made our way up the street, and with a deep breath, walked into Bushy Evergreen’s Workshop.
As before, the smells of Christmas filled the toyshop, and somehow left me feeling cozy, even though I was intimately aware of what had happened in that cheerful place. The piped-in music played a soft version of “Baby, It’s Cold Outside.” The only things different were the lack of the sparkling garland and the lack of a handsome man at the counter.
Dolan and Daphne smiled a greeting from their place behind the counter as Watson and I rounded a tall tower of toys and came into view. Both of their smiles faltered for just a second but quickly slid back into place. Dolan’s hand was covering Daphne’s, and even when I noticed, they didn’t pull apart.
“Hi. I needed to do some last-minute Christmas shopping.” I couldn’t seem to get a handle on my nerves. “Is it okay if I do that here?”
Dolan’s smile changed, becoming a little more sincere, and though he would never be a head turner, I could see what everyone had meant. There was such genuine kindness and gentleness, that in truth, he was twice as attractive as his brother. “You’ll always be welcome at Bushy’s. We’re in your debt.”
It took me a second to figure out what to say. I most definitely hadn’t expected that. “No. You’re really not.”
Daphne shook her stunningly beautiful head. “Yes, we are. Sergeant Wexler made it very clear that it was you who figured things out. Believe me, we were very aware of what everyone thought had happened.”
I made a mental note to thank Branson for not mentioning that I too suspected them of killing Declan. “I lucked into it more than anything.” I nodded down at Watson. “Really, it was his penchant for constantly looking for food that discovered the missing puzzle piece. Not me.”
The sound of a throat being cleared caused all three of us to look toward the rear of the store. Old Duncan Diamond shuffled from the back and held something out to me. He didn’t smile, and it was clear from his bloodshot eyes that he’d spent countless hours over the past several days weeping. “I thought it was you. I made you this to say—” His voice broke, and he gave a small shake of his outstretched hand.
I took the object he offered, held it up for inspection, and gasped. The carved figurine was less than two inches tall and three inches long but a near-perfect replica of Watson. It was unpainted, but had been varnished a shiny golden brown.
Percival and Gary had filled me in on the gossip when they delivered the furniture. Declan’s will had left everything to Peg. But considering the circumstances, Joe had Gerald Jackson give it back over to Duncan. Gerald had handled the paperwork, so of course, Percival and Gary somehow thought he’d worked a miracle.
I stared at the beautiful corgi in my hand and felt my eyes burn. I didn’t deserve it. It was clear they felt they owed me a thanks for giving them their life back.
They didn’t.
Knowing that if I said anything to Duncan the tears really would come, I knelt and held the figurine out to Watson. “Look, buddy. It’s you.”
He sniffed it, then gave it a quick lick. For him, that was the height of being impressed.
I stood back up and clutched it to my heart, and though it was a horrible thought, I felt like Duncan had given me something that ensured I would always have Watson with me, forever. My gaze met his, and I attempted to say thank you, but failed.
His lips turned into a small, sad smile.
He understood.
I sniffed and glanced over at Daphne and Dolan, just in time to catch Dolan pulling his hand away from where it had rested on Daphne’s flat stomach. And though it was only a hunch, I would’ve bet everything that the father of Daphne’s baby was right there in that shop.
Just when I thought I was going to lose it and actually start to cry, the piped-in music switched, and a version of “Jingle Bells” with dog barks autotuned to match the melody began to play. Watson barked along, loudly and utterly off-key.
And the spell broke, which was both a little sad and a relief.
Daphne smiled, and her voice was soft and content. “I believe you said you had some Christmas shopping to do?”
“We’re having to pull the garland from the market. There are over fifteen lawsuits pending.” Noah had the audacity to sound baffled as he lamented to Barry while the men set the table for the Christmas meal. Mom and the twins were bot
h cooking away in the kitchen. They’d kicked me out over an hour ago. So, as normal, I was with the boys.
Jonah sounded just as flummoxed. “We even had on the packaging to wear gloves. It’s like people don’t know how to read.”
“Yes, it’s the most shocking thing I’ve ever heard.” Percival rolled his eyes and gave a stage whisper to Gary. “Who would ever think Christmas decorations that could double for murder weapons you might find in a game of Clue would ever lead to litigation?”
Looking utterly offended, Noah opened his mouth to retort, but I jumped in quickly. “Could the lawsuits hurt you? Take your homes or anything?” As much as I’d ended up despising that garland, I knew they’d never had any malintent.
Jonah scoffed and waved away the concern as if it was nothing. “Nah. Our insurance is good. And our lineup of products we’re launching starting in January is strong enough that even if the lawsuits are more than we anticipated, we’ll be fine.”
“Well, I loved it.” Barry shook his head empathetically. “But we had to get rid of it. Anything that hurt Watson has to go.” He turned and squatted down, making eye contact with Watson, who’d been sleeping across the room. “Don’t we, boy? You come first, don’t you?” Barry’s Christmas outfit consisted of a red-and-green tie-dyed tank top with a penguin wearing reindeer antlers on the front, over baggie fuchsia-and-orange tie-dyed yoga pants. I wasn’t sure if it was the clashing combination or his hairy back showing from the tank top as he held out his arms toward Watson that caused my eyes to burn.
It seemed that dogs truly were colorblind, as Watson sprang from his nap and launched himself at rocket speed into Barry’s arms.
In the corner of the room, by the Christmas tree now decorated with boring everyday garland, my four nieces and nephews played with their new toys, each electronic. They’d been allowed to open one when they arrived, the rest would come after the feast. I almost hated for them to open what I brought. I couldn’t imagine any of them were going to be overly excited about all the hand-carved toys they were about to receive. Maybe when they got home, they’d toss them in a chest, forget about them, and in thirty years discover them again and see them as timeless heirlooms. Maybe.
Mom popped her head out of the kitchen, glanced around, then spotted me. “Dear, would you call Katie again? If she’s much later, dinner is going to get cold. We’re just about ready.”
“I called her less than five minutes ago, Mom. She said she would be here soon.” Mom was insanely easygoing, except for when she cooked. It was time to eat as soon as it was ready. It was hot and fresh, or not at all. “If need be, we can start before she gets here.”
“Never. Not in a million years would we do that to lovely Katie.” Mom looked scandalized. She disappeared back into the kitchen, but her voice carried over the Christmas carols playing in the background. “But call her again, would you?”
I was the one who’d opted to move back to be with family.
Acquiescing, I lifted my cell. At that moment, there was a knock on the door. I hurried over and threw it open. “Thank goodness. My mother was about to turn me into your stalker.”
“Sorry about that. I just couldn’t force myself to quit decorating this morning.” She held up a tray covered with a silver dome that had melted snowflakes trailing down its etched surface. She shoved it toward me. “Take this, will you? But don’t drop it or make it too off-center, I spent hours on that thing.”
“Oh, great. No pressure.” I took the tray, which was lighter than it appeared.
Katie shut the door behind her, and hurried over to me. I’d been carrying it to the kitchen, but she stopped me in the middle of the living room. “Here, I can’t wait for you to see.” Without any warning, she lifted the lid with a flourish and revealed her dessert.
“A gingerbread house! It’s…” Confusion flitted through me, then I understood. For the second time in less than twenty-four hours, I gasped and felt my eyes stinging. “Oh, Katie. It’s… just perfect.”
It was a gingerbread doghouse, the sides slanted to form a hexagon shape, with an arched doorway in the front outlined in peppermints. Little candies shaped like red balls rimmed the four edges of the house while multicolored, sugarcoated jelly-orange slices framed the outline of the front. A little green wreath complete with red berries of icing hung over the doorway. Snow piled up around the golden foil landscape and on the roof as icicles hung delicately from the edge. A small path curved from the open front door, lined with more red candies and… I cocked my head as one more detail snapped into place.
“Are those dog bones?” Percival sounded scandalized.
A second later Barry let out a gasp of his own and clapped his hands. “They are!”
Sure enough dog bones standing on end made a fence of sorts leading up the curved path and also outlined the edges of the roof.
Gary was nearby and walked over as he let out a low whistle, then gave an appreciative glance toward Katie. “Girl, if that’s any indication, you’re going to make a fortune in that bakery or yours.” He raised his voice. “Phyllis, Verona, Zelda, get out here. You’ve gotta see this.”
“Not if she puts dog treats on her desserts.” Though I was fairly certain that Percival had meant to whisper, his comment earned him a swift elbow in the side from Gary.
For once, Mom quit worrying about getting dinner on the table as soon as it was done. And for several minutes, the entire family gathered around the gingerbread doghouse, oohing, aahing, and lavishing endless praise on Katie.
She was as red as any light-up nose on Rudolph I’d ever seen, and looked utterly pleased. “Show Watson. It’s in honor of him, obviously.”
“Watson.” I knelt as I called him over.
As ever, when he knew I had food in hand, he rushed over like he lived to do my bidding.
I held it out to him, close enough that it was on my level, but far enough away that no dog hair could fix itself to the icing.
He stared at it, wide-eyed, gave a sniff, and then lunged, taking out a good fourth of the gingerbread doghouse and several of the dog treat fence posts with one shark-like bite.
The entire family screamed, and I stood quickly, trying to get it out of harm’s way as if the damage hadn’t already been done. Totally guilt ridden, I turned to Katie. “I’m so, so sorry.”
If anything, her smile had gotten bigger, and she beamed. “Good! He liked it!”
Mom gaped at her. “Sweetheart, we all love Watson, but you spent forever on that.”
Katie’s brows knitted, and she looked utterly baffled as she glanced from Mom to me. “No, that was for Watson. Obviously I’m not going to serve you dog treats.” She gestured with her thumb toward the door. “I made decorated gingerbread men, lemon meringue pie, and a pumpkin-carrot cake for the rest of us. It’s all out in the car.”
“Hallelujah and Merry Christmas, Tiny Tim!” Percival raised his hand in the air. “After a meal that includes a meatless roast, which might be worse than actual dog bones, I’m going to be craving a dessert smorgasbord!” He threw his arm around Katie. “Welcome to the family. You’re stuck with us! Unless you used some kind of sugar substitute, then you’re out.”
Katie’s Gingerbread recipe provided by:
2716 Welton St Denver, CO 80205
(720) 708-3026
Click the links for more Rolling Pin deliciousness:
RollingPinBakeshop.com
Rolling Pin Facebook Page
Katie’s Gingerbread Recipe
Ingredients:
3 cups flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
¾ teaspoon cinnamon
¾ teaspoon ginger
½ teaspoon allspice
½ teaspoon cloves
½ teaspoon salt
4 ounces butter
¼ cup shortening
½ cup brown sugar
2/3 cup molasses (7 ounces)
1 egg
Directions:
Sift all dry ingredients together, set
aside.
Cream butter, shortening, and brown sugar until light in color.
Add molasses and combine.
Add egg. Be sure to scrape edges of bowl between each addition.
Add dry ingredient in three stages. Be sure to mix well between each addition.
Chill dough for about an hour.
Preheat oven to 375.
Roll out dough and cut to desired pattern for gingerbread house.
Bake for about 15 minutes until firm.
Assemble cooled gingerbread pieces using royal icing and candies of your choice.
About the Author
Reading the Cozy Corgi series is pretty much all you need to know about Mildred. In real life, she’s obsessed with everything she writes about: Corgis, Books, Cozy Mountain Towns, and Baked Goods. She’s not obsessed with murder, however. At least not at her own hands (nor paid for… no contract killing here). But since childhood, starting with Nancy Drew, trying to figure out who-dun-it has played a formative role in her personality. Having Fred and Watson stroll into her mind was a touch of kismet.
Website: Mildredabbott.com
Author Note
Dear Reader:
Thank you so much for reading Traitorous Toys. If you enjoyed Fred and Watson’s adventure, I would greatly appreciate a review on Amazon and Goodreads. Please drop me a note on Facebook or on my website (MildredAbbott.com) whenever you like. I’d love to hear from you.
And don’t miss book three, Bickering Bird, coming January 2018. Keeping turning the page for sneak peek!
Much love, Mildred
PS: I’d also love it if you signed up for my newsletter. That way you’ll never miss a new release. You won’t hear from me more than once a month, nobody needs that many newsletters!
Traitorous Toys (Cozy Corgi Mysteries Book 2) Page 16