Snowflake Bay Cozy Mysteries Boxset 1

by C Farren

  “I’m anxious,” Lenny admitted. “Everyone thinks I killed Delia, even though the police haven’t even arrested me for it.”

  “They say you threatened her,” Wren pointed out.

  Lenny sighed. “Can I talk to you in private?”

  “It depends. I know you didn’t kill Delia, but you have to see how this looks.”

  “I didn’t kill her, and I want to prove it. I know you have a flair for sleuthing. Your dad wouldn’t stop going on about it. I want you to find out who killed Delia.”

  Chapter 11

  He was talking to her like he was hiring a private detective. While it was very flattering, she had to put a stop to it.

  “I’m not a detective,” Wren insisted. Lenny looked disappointed. “What I did last time was to help my dad out. It’s not as if I went out of my way to find a killer just because I was bored.”

  “I need you,” said Lenny. He sounded desperate. “You might be my only hope.”

  “I nearly got killed last time. There’s no way I’m doing something like that again.” She searched Lenny’s despairing face. “I’m sorry.”

  Why did it seem like the whole world was conspiring to make her investigate this murder? The last time was just a fluke. She only did it to help her dad out, and the clues to the murderer just seemed to fit together in her head. It would be different this time.

  But I could do it.

  Wren took a deep breath and said, “Fine. Yes. I’ll help you.”

  He grabbed her and hugged her. “Thank you so much.”

  “But you have to be honest with me,” said Wren. “If I’m going to find out who killed Delia I need to know everything.”

  It was getting bitterly cold outside. She couldn’t stand out in the freezing weather a moment longer, even if the Christmas lights made the village look pretty.

  “Follow me back home and I’ll make us some hot chocolate,” she offered. “Then once we’re warm you can tell me everything.”

  He nodded. “This means a lot.”

  Wren was about to reply when something reflected light from the roof of her building. It looked like cat’s eyes.

  “Gracie?” she called.

  There was a loud meow, and Gracie poked her head out from the edge of the roof. The lights from the Christmas decorations lit her face up like she was glowing.

  That’s how she does it! She goes across the roofs so she misses all the sidewalks! My cat is so clever.

  “Should she be up there?” Lenny asked nervously.

  “She’ll be fine,” said Wren. She mentally crossed her fingers. “I hope.”

  HALF AN HOUR LATER Wren, Lenny, Fiona and the cats were in the living room, drinking hot chocolate, wrapped up in quilts. It was very cozy. A festive edition of British Bake-Off was on the television, showing Paul Hollywood berating someone’s pathetic attempt at a mince pie.

  “So, start with telling me why everyone seems to think you threatened Delia,” said Wren. “And don’t lie to me. I will know.”

  Lenny took a sip of his drink. “It’s sort of true.”

  Casper was on his lap. The cat stretched and dug his lethal claws into the soft flesh of Lenny’s thighs. He grimaced in pain. Wren just laughed. Having a cat on your knee had its risks.

  “What did you say exactly?” enquired Wren.

  “I went to see my sister,” said Lenny. He idly stroked Casper’s back. The cat’s purring was loud, like a motorbike revving up. “I know I said it was too soon, but I had to talk to her. I had to tell her that I wanted us to be a family again.”

  “You should’ve waited a bit longer,” said Fiona. “Oh, I’m Fiona by the way.”

  Lenny showed no recognition of Fiona, which probably meant he had no angel in his blood. This suddenly got Wren thinking about their web of lies – what if Keegan or Sheriff Fisher talked to someone about their false history with Fiona and they contradicted it? It could cause chaos. It might even make Keegan think he was going insane or something.

  Lenny continued. “When I arrived at the toy store, by the back entrance, I bumped into that old witch Delia instead. She told me she’d set a restraining order against me if I ever went near Chelsea or Everett ever again. I told her she couldn’t do that, which is when she tried hitting me with that red felt Mrs. Claus hat she was wearing at the time. I grabbed it and told her to stop attacking me or I’d fight back, which is when Chelsea arrived. She thought I was threatening to kill her mother-in-law and told me to go. Delia stormed away, and Chelsea and I had words. After she left, I hung around, trying to drum up the courage to go back in, and that’s when Kerry’s car rammed into the store.”

  So, Lenny had threatened Delia, but only because she was threatening him and he was just retaliating. It had been a bad idea to make the woman mad, but Wren was sure that she would’ve done the same thing. If someone hit her, she’d hit back. At least Lenny had been man enough not to hit Delia with her Mrs. Claus hat.

  “I doubt Chelsea would’ve been kind no matter what happened,” said Lenny.

  “It was an accident,” said Wren.

  He paused for a moment before saying, “I’ve accepted that, but I still can’t forget that I killed my sister. If only I hadn’t had so many drinks that night.” He continued to stroke Casper. The gentle stroking motions seemed to make him calmer. “I just wish I could remember Belinda’s last words. That would be some comfort. I had... hypnotherapy a while back but that didn’t give me quite the answers I wanted.”

  “You don’t remember?”

  He looked away, lost in thought. “I don’t remember much about that night because I was so drunk,” Lenny admitted. “I remember the concert. It was the Dixie Chicks. You and Keegan were supposed to come with me, but when I found out you hated the Dixie Chicks and my sisters were fans Keegan persuaded me to take them instead.”

  She remembered it well. It had been a lie. She loved the Dixie Chicks. She didn’t want to go because she was having trouble with Alex at the time and felt too depressed to go out. Would she have died if she’d gone to the concert? Or would she have taken the wheel of the car and saved them all?

  Why didn’t Chelsea or Belinda drive? Surely, they could see how drunk their brother was?

  “I remember getting in the car. Belinda asked me if I was okay to drive and I said yes. She couldn’t drive, and Chelsea said she was tired, and I said I was fine. I thought I was.” Lenny started to cry. Casper jumped off his lap and ran to hide in the kitchen. “The next thing I remember is waking up after the car crashed. I could hear Chelsea screaming and I couldn’t remove my seatbelt and there was blood all the place. I don’t know how I knew but I knew that Belinda was dead.”

  “You don’t remember the crash at all?” asked Fiona.

  “And I’m glad I don’t remember. I don’t think I could cope if I could remember the exact moment that Belinda died.”

  Maybe that’s how Lenny coped. If he couldn’t remember, then he couldn’t obsess over it. He probably did anyway, but it would be so much worse if Belinda’s final moments were etched forever in his memory.

  But was it better? Would it help him if he could remember that night properly?

  “I didn’t kill Delia,” Lenny stated. “I swear it on Belinda’s grave.”

  Wren patted him consolingly on the arm. “I believe you, and I will find out who killed Delia. You know it won’t solve the problems you have with your family.”

  “I know that,” Lenny admitted. “But it’ll be a start.”

  She didn’t think anything would help with his family. They had set themselves to hate Lenny and God forbid anybody from stopping them. Maybe now Delia was dead things might change, but it would be slow. She only hoped Lenny had enough patience to wait things out.

  Thirty minutes passed before Lenny said, “There’s something else.”

  By now they’d put a movie on called The Christmas Diamond after Bake-Off ended. It was some Trademark Channel true story effort that looked reasonably festive. Fiona wa
s in the kitchen making popcorn. The cats had wandered off outside to hunt mice or reap souls or whatever it was cats did all night.

  “Something important?” Wren asked.

  “For the past year someone has been sending me letters,” said Lenny. He seemed very uncomfortable. “Each one said if I came back to Snowflake Bay, I’d be killed.”

  Wren was shocked. “This is something important! You should have told me.”

  “It had nothing to do with Delia’s murder, right?”

  “Did you recognize the handwriting?”

  “It was typed, probably printed off from a computer.”

  “Do you still have any of the letters?”

  “I kind of flushed them down the toilet. I just wanted to ignore them.”

  Lenny was right. The letters probably had nothing to do with Delia’s murder. But what if it was? What if someone killed Delia as an example for Lenny? Or what if Delia was killed by mistake and Lenny was supposed to be the victim? She didn’t know enough information, not yet. The first thing she needed to do was to talk to Keegan. She was sure she wouldn’t get anything out of his father, but Keegan was her friend. He’s be eager to help out.

  “Earth to Wren,” said Lenny. “Are you home?”

  “Just thinking,” she admitted. “Just thinking.” Lenny turned the channel over. “Hey, what are you doing? I like The Christmas Diamond.”

  Lenny looked uncomfortable. “It’s so badly acted and inaccurate.”

  “It’s a movie. Take it at face value.” She grinned and turned the channel back. “See! There’s only five minutes left.”

  He started to sulk. Wren threw some popcorn at him and laughed.

  “I’M HAVING THE DAY off,” said Miranda. The laptop screen froze for a few seconds. “The kids are at school and I thought I’d need a little bit of pampering.”

  “Good for you,” said Wren.

  Miranda had contacted her by Skype just when she was about to nod off. She couldn’t wait to get up in the morning. She had so much to do. It wasn’t until Miranda’s face appeared on the screen that Wren realized that she hadn’t spoken to her friend in over a month. They’d never gone this long without talking to each other.

  “The girls still can’t stop talking about their detective aunt,” said Miranda. “They want to be Interpol agents when they grow up.”

  “I only did what I did to save my dad,” said Wren, trying not to blush. “I didn’t want him to be sent down for murder.”

  “You put together all these clues and confronted a double murderer!” Miranda seemed excited. “You’re either very brave or very stupid.”

  “I’m most likely both.”

  The scar from her bullet wound tingled. The bullet had only whizzed past her, causing minimum damage, but at the time her brain had told her that she’d actually been shot. It wasn’t a good feeling.

  “Sorry,” said Miranda. “I made you sad.”

  “I’m proud of what I did,” Wren admitted. She smiled. “I put away a deadly murderer and I saved my dad from going to jail for a very long time. I gave a young man some closure in the death of his parents.” She shook her head. “Tell me how you’re doing. I presume you didn’t just call to talk all about my sleuthing skills.”

  Miranda looked away. Wren had sensed something was wrong the last few times they’d talked but didn’t want to bring it up. If her friend wanted to open up, then she would.

  “I just needed someone to talk to,” said Miranda. “Beppe works so much, and the kids are at school and have friends. I’m just lonely I guess.”

  “I didn’t know,” said Wren. “You always seemed so happy.”

  “I had friends here, but they’ve moved on to other things. I guess I really needed you to talk to.”

  The two of them talked for three hours straight, promising to keep in touch more often. Wren was also reminded of her promise to visit Italy for Miranda’s daughters’ birthday in February. She couldn’t wait. It would be a welcome breath of fresh air to get away from all the murders and intrigue of Snowflake Bay for a while.

  When Miranda eventually hung up Wren still had to question why her friend hadn’t told her the complete truth. Something else was wrong, something other than having no friends.

  “What do you think?” she asked her cats.

  They were fast asleep on their pillow, so entangled together they were like one animal. One of them yawned.

  “Sorry,” said Wren. “I’ll go to sleep now.”

  Wren fell into a dream filled sleep. They weren’t good dreams.

  Chapter 12

  Wren knocked loudly on Keegan’s front door. It was seven in the morning and her breath was frosty and cold. He answered after about five minutes. He was half in his deputy’s uniform and had enough sleep in his eyes to give the sandman pause.

  “What are you doing here so early?” he demanded.

  He had what appeared to be breadcrumbs stuck on his chin. If he ever wanted a man again, he needed to tidy himself up a bit.

  “We need to talk,” said Wren, barging past him inside.

  Keegan lived in a small annex of his father’s house. It was small, with its own living room, kitchen, and bathroom. He had decorated in his own style, which was to say it was plain and a little dull. There were a few stunning relics he’d picked up when he visited South Africa a few years ago to visit some distant cousins, but that was it. Her friend hadn’t bothered with decoration for a while now. His enthusiasm for life had ebbed since Lenny had gone to prison.

  She picked up an old pizza box from off the coffee table.

  “You live like a student,” she complained. “This is awful. There’s mold on it!”

  “I have an awful feeling I’m not going to like what you’re here for,” said Keegan, pulling on his jacket. “Out with it.”

  “I’ve been asked to investigate Delia’s murder. You’re my first port of call.”

  He stared at her like she’d grown a second head. She prepared herself for a telling off, or at least skepticism.

  “I can’t stop you from doing this, can I?” Keegan asked.

  “I wouldn’t even bothered trying,” said Wren with a smirk.

  “Who asked you?”

  She hesitated. Could he handle the truth? “It was Lenny.”

  He nodded and sat down to put on his boots. There was a photo album that had been under the pizza box. Wren picked it up and looked inside. It was filled with photos of Lenny and Keegan from their various holidays together. They looked so content. They belonged together.

  “You got drunk looking at this,” stated Wren. There was a pile of empty lager cans in the kitchen sink. “It won’t do you any good.”

  “Can we get back to the murder?” he demanded, taking back the photo album.

  “There’s some things you need to know.”

  She filled him in on the letters that Lenny had received while in prison.

  “You think they’re related?” he asked.

  “I’m not sure,” said Wren. “I have to keep an open mind about these things. I didn’t think Cedric was related to Garrett’s murder until I put all the pieces together.”

  “Then what’s your theory?”

  She started to pace, thinking. “I don’t know nearly enough to make a hypothesis just yet. I do know that Lenny didn’t kill Delia. He had no reason to, and his fingerprints weren’t on the murder weapon.”

  “We found Delia’s prints on the Nutcracker, as well as those of Everett, Chelsea, Kerry, and Camden.”

  “Why are all their prints on Delia’s letter opener?”

  “They say they used the blunt side of the blade to curl ribbons to put on the gifts for the children.”

  She nodded. It made sense. When she was wrapping gifts for Christmas, she used a blunt fish knife to curl ribbons. Not that she ever bothered with any of that anymore. It was too time consuming. It was easier and quicker to sling some gifts into a holiday gift bag.

  “Did you question the entire famil
y?” Wren asked.

  “Not really,” Keegan admitted. “They were all in shock. I just asked a few basic questions and let them get on with grieving.”

  “So, no motives revealed themselves?”

  He looked thoughtful for a moment. “A couple, I suppose. I got the impression that the family was sad that Delia was dead, but also relieved in a way. Everett was hysterical. He kept crying and laughing. Chelsea was completely blank, not showing anything either way. Kerry was crying a lot. Yet there was something underneath all that grief.”

  “Delia was a complete bitch.”

  Keegan opened his mouth in shock, but then nodded his head in agreement.

  “I noticed things while I was there that morning,” Wren explained, still pacing. She wished she had a cup of coffee to help her think, but Keegan only had instant. She considered that an abomination. “Delia was hyper critical of everything, including me. She told me not to steal anything and watched me like a hawk, giving me the stink eye. I think she expected me to rob the place while she was blinking or something. I don’t blame her really. Dad did steal money from her.”

  Keegan didn’t answer. He already knew.

  “She was critical of which college Kerry wanted to go to, which I know hurt her deeply. She was always nit-picking everything Chelsea did, even complaining about her hair. The way she was with Everett was a bit more sinister; off handed comments, extreme passive aggressiveness. He’d put up with her all his life. I’m surprised he hadn’t killed her already.”

  “Didn’t your brother Leo used to be best friends with Everett?”

  Wren had totally forgotten that. The revelation brought back more memories of her childhood and her brother. The two of them had fallen out when they were sixteen over something Leo wouldn’t talk about, but before that, they’d been inseparable.

  “I remember Everett coming over for a sleepover once,” Wren mused. She sat down on the sofa, leaning back. “Leo and Everett were both twelve or something. They were watching some scary movie and I was upstairs. Then Delia turned up, screaming and ranting, saying he was too young to watch such awful things. He refused to go, and she started hyperventilating, and they went home. Leo thought she was faking it.”