Snowflake Bay Cozy Mysteries Boxset 1

by C Farren

  Wren turned to see the remnant of the toy store counter. The till was broken, half buried under a wooden beam. A pair of red felt slippers were sticking out from under the debris, Wicked Witch of the East style.

  She crept forward and pushed aside a few bits of plaster. Mrs. Claus had the Nutcracker letter opener’s blade sticking out of her neck. She was dead.

  Chapter 7

  Falling snow settled on Delia as Deputies Stark and Rodman carried her body out of the wreckage of the toy store. Almost as soon as they were out, more parts of the building collapsed. It made a sound like a groaning monster. Wren had never witnessed something so awful before. When the dust settled, all that could be heard was the crushed musical Christmas boxes, trying to play in tune.

  “Did everyone get out okay?” someone asked.

  There was a huge crowd watching the spectacle. It was in bad taste, but she couldn’t judge. She was watching it too.

  “Are you okay?” Fiona asked, brushing dust off Wren’s shoulder.

  “I’m fine,” said Wren, coughing a little. She could still taste plaster dust. “Do you think the store will be salvageable?”

  The Rickard’s toy store was a pile of rubble, getting buried in snow.

  She looked across at the ambulance. Chelsea was inside, being checked. It seemed she’d broken a few ribs, but she was worried for the baby. Everyone else was fine apart from Delia. She saw Benedict and Paula heading over. The little girl was excited.

  “It was like something out of a movie,” said Paula, running up to her. “I thought I was going to get squashed!”

  Benedict didn’t look so happy. Wren guessed he was terrified that he’d nearly lost his daughter.

  “How are you doing?” Wren asked him.

  “I want to get Paula home,” said Benedict. “It’s dangerous to hang around here. I don’t think they’ve managed to cut off the gas to the toy store yet.”

  Wren grimaced. She didn’t want to end up burned if the building exploded.

  “That was a foolish thing to do, going into a collapsing building like that,” Benedict admonished her. He was being deadly serious. “You could’ve been seriously hurt.”

  “I didn’t think,” she admitted. “I had to get in there and...”

  Who had she been going in there to save? Was it her uncle, or the Rickards? Was it Benedict and his daughter? All of them?

  It was Benedict.

  “I had to do something,” she told him. “I was first on the scene. I knew I could save someone’s life.”

  “It was reckless,” Benedict said angrily. He sighed and tried to smile. “But I’m glad you came in when you did. Who knows what might have happened?”

  He took Paula’s hand and they started to walk away. She watched him leave, wanting to go with him and make sure they were both really okay. They could have concussions.

  “You went into a collapsing building for him,” Fiona stated.

  Wren looked away. “Not really. I’d forgotten he was even in there.”

  “He’s not a good guy. Look what he did to your father!”

  “Benedict was more than willing to let Dad pay him off monthly. Dad just used his debts as an excuse to gamble more and start robbing again. I know he’s not exactly squeaky clean, but he’s a good dad, and a more or less good person.”

  Wren wasn’t sure she believed that. She was fairly sure Benedict was up to a lot more than just hosting illegal card games, but at the moment she didn’t want to argue. She was too exhausted.

  “Delia Rickard didn’t get killed by the crash,” said Wren.

  “What do you mean?” Fiona asked.

  “She was murdered. Somebody stabbed her in the neck with a letter opener.”

  Fiona pulled a face. “That’s gruesome. Who’d want to kill Delia?”

  The last conversation she’d had with Delia was still fresh in Wren’s mind. The woman had been rude and obnoxious and just plain nasty. The woman was pretty much like that with everybody, though she seemed particularly harsh with her family, Everett especially. There could be quite a few people wanting to kill her.

  Sheriff Fisher was marching over her way, a stern look on his face. Wren sighed. She was going to get it now.

  “What were you doing going into that building?” he demanded loudly. “You could’ve gotten yourself killed!”

  “Don’t talk to me like I’m a child,” Wren shouted back.

  The sheriff started to count down from ten. Wren looked across to Fiona, guilty. The man looked really stressed. She couldn’t blame him. This was the third murder in as many months, with the first victim, Garrett Knowles, being the sheriff’s secret lover.

  How do you get over something like that when you can’t openly grieve?

  “How did you find the body of Delia Rickards?” he asked, seeming calmer now. “Tell me every detail you can think of.”

  “She was behind the shop counter, or what was left of it,” Wren explained. “She had her Nutcracker letter opener sticking out of her neck.”

  “Her what?”

  Wren shrugged. “I saw her use it earlier. The Nutcracker is carrying this bayonet or something and she used it to open letters with. It looked really deadly.”

  There was a scream behind them. Two firefighters had used the jaws of life to rip open the doors of Kerry’s car. She fell out onto the street, screaming, as the two firefighters tried to hold her back.

  “Why do you think she did it?” Fiona asked them.

  “She just nearly killed her entire family,” said the sheriff.

  “Kerry is not a murderer,” said Wren. “This was probably an accident.”

  When she’d seen the car heading towards the toy store it hadn’t seemed out of control. It was almost like it was driving as fast as possible towards its destination.

  “You have that look on your face,” said the sheriff.

  “I saw Kerry’s car smash into the toy store,” Wren explained, watching as an EMT stuck in a syringe in a hysterical Kerry’s neck. She passed out instantly. “I’m not sure, but I think she did this on purpose.” She looked around the street. It wasn’t wide. “For her to drive like that and turn towards the store it would have to be deliberate. If she was driving along the road and the brakes failed or something, she would’ve just coasted along the road a bit more until she hit another car.”

  Sheriff Fisher nodded. “You’re right.”

  Wren had no idea why Kerry would crash into the store like that, but it seemed the only plausible answer. It made her angry, though. She could’ve killed her uncle as well as Benedict, Paula, and her own parents. What was she thinking? Or was she even thinking at all?

  She spotted Uncle Camden leaning against the side of the ambulance. She said goodbye to the sheriff and walked on over. He looked quite pale.

  “Has someone checked you out?” she asked, concerned.

  “I’m still in shock I guess,” Camden admitted. He put his hand to his shoulder. “I think I might have hurt my arm. It hurts like hell.” He looked across to Everett, who was standing over his mother’s body. He wasn’t even crying. The man just looked numb. “Poor guy. I know Delia was a hard woman to love, but she was still his mother.” He laughed. “I remember when we got engaged. She didn’t want a party or anything, just a dinner for the two of us. She never knew how to let her hair down.”

  Wren did a double take. “You... you were engaged to Delia Rickard?”

  The whole world had gone mad. How had she not known this? How had someone not told her? The gossips in town weren’t doing their jobs properly.

  “It was a long time ago,” said Camden. “She dumped me for Ray Rickard, and then I met Jenny. It worked out in the end.”

  She was about to quiz him a bit more on his relationship with the icy Delia when he heaved forward and fell face first onto the road. He was unconscious.

  “Somebody help!” Wren screamed.

  She wished she knew what to do, but she didn’t know any first aid at all. She pr
omised herself she’d learn it, just in case, if only Camden pulled through

  Keegan came over, taking Camden’s pulse. “It’s weak, but he has a pulse. He must have hit his head harder than we thought.”

  “What can we do?” Wren asked, frantic.

  The sole ambulance was full. Keegan looked in a panic and lifted Uncle Camden, still in his jolly Santa suit, into his arms.

  “We’ll go to the hospital in my car,” he announced, marching off. Wren ran after him. “We have to hurry.”

  Chapter 8

  They got Camden to the hospital in plenty of time, but his condition was serious. He had bleeding in the brain. Surgeons had to drill into his skull to release the pressure and save his life.

  Wren, Keegan, Dot, Jenny, and Fiona were in the hospital waiting room. Dot had phoned Reba, who was currently on vacation in Hawaii, to tell her the news. The doctors had assured her the procedure was fairly routine but, considering Camden’s age, they couldn’t be sure. All they did know was waiting was the hardest thing they’d ever done.

  “It’s taking too long,” Wren complained, pacing. She had a cup of vile hospital coffee in one hand and her cell in the other. “When are they going to be finished?”

  Dot sighed. “Camden will pull through. He’s stubborn, just like his brother.”

  I’ve left Gracie at the coffee shop! I hope she has the good sense to make her way home again.

  Wren continued to pace, thinking about Kerry and why she’d rammed the store with her car. It didn’t make any sense. Wren knew one thing, though – she was going to make sure that girl got everything that was coming for her. She didn’t care that Judge Popovar was Kerry’s great-great-uncle, and village matriarch Wanda’s brother. That girl would pay.

  “Can I talk to you outside?” Fiona asked quietly. She seemed shifty.

  “Now is not the time for whatever it is you want,” Wren complained.

  Fiona put her mouth to Wren’s ear. “This is angel stuff. It’s important.”

  Wren sighed and nodded. She needed some fresh air anyway. It was hot and stifling inside the hospital, like they had a million radiators switched on at once.

  Once they were outside Wren shivered in the cold. There was a snow plough going around the hospital grounds, keeping the place tidy. Everett and Chelsea Rickard were sitting at a bench opposite them, ignoring each other. Chelsea seemed fine, despite the broken ribs. If she’d lost her baby, Wren assumed she’d be in bits.

  I should give them a piece of my mind, but they’re grieving enough.

  “What is it?” Wren asked.

  “I need to get in to see your uncle,” said Fiona quietly.

  Suddenly Wren understood. “You think you can heal him?”

  “You know I’m just a trainee, and not very good at healing, but I could speed up his recovery a little. A little help might be just what he needs.”

  Wren nodded, agreeing. It was worth a shot. Camden had a heart condition. A speedy recovery would be just what he needed. First, though, they had to wait and see if he came through his surgery.

  FIVE HOURS LATER THEY got the news they’d been either dreading or hoping for. The doctors had managed to release the pressure on Camden’s brain and he was going to be perfectly fine after a few week’s rest. Apparently, he’d been awake during the procedure, and had talked his head off during it. She actually pitied the doctors a little.

  “You’re sure?” Aunt Jenny asked.

  The doctor smiled. “He’s fine. Perfectly fine. He’ll have a headache for a while, and his lovely golden hair had to be shaved off, which he wasn’t pleased about, but he’ll be fine. You can see him now if you like, though he is a bit groggy.”

  The family went in first. Wren and Fiona hung back, waiting for the right moment. She didn’t want anyone to see the angel doing her healing thing.

  “How’s your uncle?” Chelsea asked.

  She hadn’t heard Chelsea approach them. The woman was holding her waist a little. Her cracked ribs were obviously giving her a lot of pain.

  “He’s going to be okay,” Wren answered. “How are you?”

  “A few broken ribs but that’s about it. Thankfully the baby was unharmed during the crash.” She looked sad for a moment. “I know Delia was probably my mortal enemy. She made my life miserable. But it’ll be a lot quieter without her in it.”

  Wren nodded, understanding. It was difficult to grieve for someone who was such a large part of your life when you actually disliked them. She’d felt that way when her grandfather Harold’s second wife, Nora Leigh, died. The woman had been vile, but Wren had sort of missed her when she wasn’t around.

  “What about Kerry?” Wren inquired. She tried to keep the displeasure out of her voice, but she was sure some slipped by.

  “I don’t know,” Chelsea admitted. “I haven’t seen her since Sheriff Fisher arrested her.”

  She was glad the girl had been arrested. She only hoped Sheriff Fisher managed to get the truth out of her.

  Wren said, “Do you know why she’d do such a thing?”

  “I wish I did. I honestly wish I did. It’s just not like her. She’s a good girl, always has been. She’s an honor student and a member of MENSA and she’s already taking advances courses at college. She volunteers at this hospital and she raises money for charity. She doesn’t even swear!” Chelsea was crying again now. Wren tried to comfort her but the woman pushed her away. “She wouldn’t do this on purpose, but even I know how this looks.”

  Wren considered asking her about her mother-in-law’s murder but decided it was a tactless idea. Chelsea was going through too much right now to have to think about such dark things.

  They looked up to see Lenny walking down the corridor. He stopped when he saw them.

  He looked guilty as he said, “How’s Everett?”

  “You killed Delia!” Chelsea screamed. “You killed her!”

  “I didn’t kill her. How could you accuse me of something like this?”

  “I know you killed her. She said she was scared of you. She said she was going to talk to Sheriff Fisher and have you arrested!”

  “I didn’t threaten her. She’s lying.”

  Chelsea walked over to her brother and slapped him across the face. The sound echoed down the tiled corridor of the hospital. It was so loud it and powerful it rattled her teeth.

  “You should never have come back to town,” said Chelsea. “Leave us all alone!”

  “This town is my home,” snapped Lenny. “I’m not going anywhere!”

  Chelsea made an angry noise and stormed off. Lenny looked to Wren, guilt written on his face, and walked off in the opposite direction.

  “Families, eh?” Fiona quipped.

  “Do you think Lenny really threatened Delia?” Wren speculated. “But why would he? It would only cause more aggravation in the family.”

  “Forget about them for now. Let’s concentrate on Camden.”

  After half an hour the rest of the family left Camden’s room and Wren and Fiona went inside. Her uncle was sleeping. She was surprised at how awful he looked. His skin was deathly pale, and all his hair had been shaved off. She didn’t dare look at the stitched-up wound on his head. It would be too much.

  “Are you sure?” Wren asked.

  Fiona nodded. “Just a little bit of healing will do him good.”

  The angel held her hands over Camden’s stitches. The wound was red raw and gristly. After a few moments of healing it tightened up a little, snapping some of the stitches. Camden groaned in his sleep.

  “There,” said Fiona, grinning. She peered down at Camden’s head and smiled. “That should lessen his healing time considerably.”

  “It does look better,” Wren admitted. The wound looked less angry, though it was still quite raw. “But won’t the doctors think it odd that he’s healed maybe a week in less than a few hours?”

  “They will think it’s odd, yes, but what can they do about it?”

  She had a point. It wasn’t as
if they’d automatically believe an angel had done it. They’d just put it down to Camden’s incredible genes or something.

  Fiona fell against the bed. “Oh... I’m feeling a bit woozy. I think I overdid it.”

  Wren helped Fiona lean against her. Her face was as pale as Camden’s, and her entire body was shaking.

  “Fiona?” Wren asked. “What’s wrong?”

  The angel closed her eyes, fell backwards, and vanished. Only a single white feather was left, which fluttered lazily onto the sterile hospital floor. Wren quickly grabbed it and put it in her pocket.

  Fiona? Fiona?

  Chapter 9

  “She looks terrible, Juniper. Will she be okay?”

  “She overdid herself. I warned her about this. Some people never listen.”

  “Stop talking about me,” Fiona snapped, opening he eyes. “It’s very rude.”

  She was in her apartment back in Golden, Heaven. The blueberry air freshener she had on her bedside table greeted her nostrils and the soft goose feathers of her mattress made her body relaxed. An angel flew past her window on their way to work. The skylight above her bed looked upon the heavenly skies, a miraculous mixture of distant stars and swirling, colorful galaxies.

  She sat up, still woozy. Brock and Juniper were stood by her bed. Her friend and crush was deeply concerned about her. Juniper just appeared disappointed.

  “What happened?” Fiona asked.

  “You healed someone and took too much power from yourself,” Juniper explained. Fiona had never seen her look so displeased before. “You managed to flit yourself back here due to angelic instinct. It’s a good job you did.”

  Fiona shivered. “I don’t remember much to be honest.”

  For the next half an hour Juniper grilled her on her activities down on Earth. Fiona told the truth, even if it might get her into trouble. Juniper always knew when you were lying anyway.

  They were sat at the kitchen table now, drinking tea. Fiona was ecstatic to be back in her own place again, even though she was starting to think of Wren’s house as home. She’d spent a great many decades in this apartment, sometimes alone, sometimes not. It made her sad to think of it empty.