Snowflake Bay Cozy Mysteries Boxset 1

by C Farren

  He held out another dress. It was egg white with a hint of blue and was short, with a slightly frilly hem. “What about this?” Benedict asked.

  “Bieber McIntyre wouldn’t be seen dead in that tat,” said Wren.

  He crossed his arms. “You’re being very honest today. What’s up?”

  “Everything.”

  He smiled and kissed her on the lips. She could taste his cherry lip balm. It made her hungry.

  “Hey look!” Paula cried, running in. She was holding out her cellphone. “Aarna’s blog has got nearly a million followers now!”

  “A confession of murder will do that,” said Wren.

  “You must be famous all around the world now!”

  Paula ran off again to go and tell her friends she knew the famous Snowflake Bay murder detective. Wren was a little embarrassed. The press was constantly on her back once again about her crime solving skills. Didn’t they have anything better to do?

  “You need to do something fun,” he said, grinning wickedly. “Something to take your mind off everything, even for an hour or so.”

  “What do you have in mind?” she asked suggestively.

  “I could do with a partner at my performance at the bar tonight. I think it’s about time you had a go at drag.”

  She laughed, thinking he was joking. When he didn’t laugh too she pursed her lips, about to argue, before she stopped to think.

  “It could be fun,” she admitted. “Would you make me look so outrageous and camp even my own mother wouldn’t recognize me?”

  “Of course,” he said. “But first you need a name.”

  “Nothing rude. Something... punny, but classy.”

  She racked her brain for something that would fit. She loved cats, so something related to cats would be good. Something coffee related? Something to do with her penchant for solving murders?

  “Kitty Fletcher,” said Wren, grinning. The name just popped into her head. “I’m going to be called Kitty Fletcher.”

  “Named for your love for cats and the greatest fictional detective the world has ever known,” said Benedict. “No offence to David Suchet’s Poirot and everything, which I dearly love, but Angela Lansbury is everything.”

  Wren smiled and walked up to Benedict’s full-length mirror.

  “Hello Kitty Fletcher,” said Wren.

  Benedict hugged her from behind, his hands around her waist. “Now have I got a wig that would look great on you.”

  She giggled as he brought her a stunning red wig. He placed it gently on her head, moving it around until it fitted perfectly.

  “I look like Jessica Rabbit,” said Wren. “Perfect!”

  Wren smiled. The wig made her look sultry and sexy. It inspired her.

  I really do look great.

  “Now it’s time for the make-up,” Benedict declared.

  An hour later Wren didn’t recognize herself in the mirror. She was wearing padding around her bottom to make her look curvier, and fake boobs to make her breasts look bigger. Her face was painted to within an inch of her life. It was too much, but it was perfect for what she was going for. She wore a pair of silver high heels, a tight sequined emerald dress, and a silver choker around her neck.

  “Who am I?” Wren asked. “I am Kitty Fletcher!”

  “Now it’s my turn to get changed,” said Benedict. “Bet I’ll look prettier than you.”

  “Now that’s a bet that you’ll lose.”

  She couldn’t wait for this. She’d often thought what it would be like to dress up in drag when she started dating Benedict but hadn’t really had the confidence. Even now she was afraid what people will think. Was she pretty enough? Did she deserve this?

  “Are you okay?” Benedict asked. Rocky, Benedict’s cat, was chasing a rolled-up sock around the floor now, batting it with his paws. “You look unsure of something.”

  “I don’t do things like this,” Wren admitted. “I don’t show myself off like this.”

  “Are you having second thoughts?”

  “No way. I’m doing this.” She twirled around in front of the mirror again, admiring everything in front of her. “I am fabulous!”

  She was about to suggest they head on out when she heard the most frightening thing. It sounded a lot like a dozen cats yowling at the moon.

  “What’s gotten them so riled up?” Benedict asked.

  Wren knew what it was almost instantly. “It’s Gracie. It’s time.”

  She pushed off her heels and put her sneakers back on. She didn’t have time to change the rest of her clothes.

  “Follow me,” Wren commanded, marching out of the drag room. “I might need your help!”

  Both Paula and Benedict followed as she walked across the road, back to her own house. The cats were still calling out, announcing the imminent arrivals. She’d never heard anything like it before in her life. Normal cats didn’t do this.

  She pushed open the front door. Her mother was sitting on the stairs, looking panicked and afraid. Wren ignored her and went into the living room. The cats were all crowded onto the couch together. When they noticed Wren was staring at them they stopped yowling. Casper was in front of the TV, still guarding Gracie.

  “Where’s Brock?” Wren called out.

  “He got called back to Heaven,” said Fiona. She emerged from the kitchen with a steaming cup of coffee. “He didn’t seem to want to go.”

  Wren stood still. “Fiona? You’re back?”

  “Obviously.” Fiona put the coffee down on the coffee table and stared at Wren like an annoyed librarian. “Stop staring! I’m an angel again and I’m back with you again and that’s all I’m willing to share at the moment. Now drink this coffee and let Gracie do what she needs to do. Any questions?”

  “I’ve missed your bossy voice.”

  Wren laughed and pulled Fiona into a massive hug. Everything would be alright now Fiona was back. The world was right again.

  Gracie!

  “Right,” said Wren. “Kittens.”

  IT TOOK FIVE HOURS, but eventually Gracie was blessed with five glorious kittens. Three of them were pure white balls of fluff, one was grey like their mother, and the other was a patchwork of both mother and father. Wren didn’t think she’d ever seen anything so beautiful and miraculous in her life.

  “Those little things came from her,” said Wren, smiling. Gracie was purring loudly as she cleaned her children. She hadn’t dared move them from the back of the TV, but she knew she must later. It wasn’t safe. “I’m so proud of her.”

  “They’re so cute!” said Paula. “I love them so much!”

  Benedict smiled as he held his daughter’s hand. “When they’re ready to leave home, you can choose one.”

  “Really?” Paula exclaimed. “Thank you, Daddy!”

  All the other cats, aside from Casper, who was still on guard, had left for the back yard. The living room was much less cluttered now, though Wren was beginning to have trouble keeping her eyes open. She was so tired.

  “You should go to bed,” Benedict suggested. “You have the coffee shop to open in a few hours.”

  Wren yawned. “I need to stay up with her.”

  “I think she’s doing fine on her own.”

  “I know, but... I think she needs me to stay here. She needs me to keep watch and make sure she’s okay.”

  Benedict kissed her on the head and whispered, “I love you.”

  She looked up into his eyes and said, with the utmost confidence, “I love you too.”

  WREN WOKE UP TO SOMETHING wet licking her face. It was Gracie. She patted the new mother affectionately and gave her a kiss.

  “I’m very proud of you,” Wren told her. “But you shouldn’t be out here, licking me.”

  Gracie meowed and rubbed her head against Wren’s chin.

  “I suppose you’re hungry,” said Wren. “You need to keep full so you can feed your babies. How about some chicken?”

  Gracie jumped onto the floor and into the kitchen. Wren smiled
and cut her up some chicken, which she gobbled down in a few seconds. When she was done the little cat returned to her new family. Wren leaned over to look at the kittens, sleeping peacefully on the bits of torn up newspaper.

  Wait, that’s not all newspaper.

  She picked up one of the pieces of paper Gracie had used for her nest. It had handwriting on it, some kind of observations about the pastor feeding birds in the park. It was a page from Maureen’s black book. There was even the discarded black cardboard cover, its pages all ripped out and chewed up to use as bedding.

  Maureen must have hidden her black book behind the TV in my house!

  She smiled. Maybe this was for the best.

  She found Casper sitting on the kitchen table, cleaning himself. He looked up at her and blinked proudly, as if to say it was partly his doing the kittens were so perfect.

  “I wish you could still talk,” said Wren, stroking him gently. “I’m going to miss that.”

  “Brock’s ability is quite the parlor trick,” said Fiona.

  The angel was sat at the kitchen table, drinking a cup of tea. Wren had noticed her when she’d come in to feed Gracie but hadn’t felt like talking to her. It was good to have her back but also strange. She never did get to say goodbye to Brock, though she suspected he might turn up again.

  Wren sat at the table and said, “How are you really?”

  “I had a cathartic experience,” said Fiona cryptically. “Let’s leave it at that.”

  “But you’re back for good?”

  Fiona nodded. “I can’t use any of my abilities, so no flitting or healing, because I’m sensitive to demonic energy now, but I’m fine. I can still do my job.”

  This reminded Wren of something Brock had briefly brought up a while ago, but they hadn’t discussed it since. The crisis with Maureen had sort of gotten in the way.

  “Why do I need an angel?” Wren asked.

  Fiona eyed her for a moment. “You figured that out too, huh? I asked them upstairs that very same question.”

  “And?” Wren prompted.

  “You still need an angel, though not for what you think. I’m supposed to keep your life on the right path. If you haven’t noticed your life is very, very hectic. One wrong move and things could go belly up.”

  She wasn’t wrong there. She’d had so many run-ins with killers and criminals lately it was becoming farcical.

  “Why is my life so important?” Wren asked.

  “Every life is important,” Fiona stated. She smiled and put down her cup of tea. “Just be glad I’m back. I am. I feel like I’m home again.”

  Wren smiled, stood, and hugged her great-grandmother. It really was good to have her back. She’d missed her so much.

  WREN WAS GETTING READY for work, confident that Fiona was the perfect cat sitter. While she hated to be away from Gracie and her babies, the Metropolitan needed her. She’d taken way too much time off investigating all the Maureen stuff. It wasn’t fair to keep leaving it up to Aarna and Reo all the time. Besides, Wren enjoyed running the coffee shop. It was her child, her project.

  A thought suddenly struck her. Where had Maureen’s cats been all morning? Usually they were prowling about the house, tucked into every nook and cranny, trying to keep warm or out of the way.

  She went to check on Maureen. She pushed her bedroom door open slightly and heaved a sigh of relief. Her friend was sleeping peacefully with her cats spread out on the bed, protecting her, providing love and warmth. Woe betide anyone who tried to attack their beloved owner. Ginger would have permanent scars to prove how loyal those cats were.

  What’s going to happen to you now, Maureen?

  As far as Wren was concerned, she could stay as long as she liked, but it wasn’t fair to Gracie. She needed a little peace and quiet now, not a dozen cats roaming about, making her nervous and skittish.

  Maureen yawned. “Oh. Is it morning already?”

  “I thought you’d sleep for days,” said Wren. “You missed Gracie giving birth and everything.”

  “Kittens!” Maureen declared joyously. “The most precious things in the universe.”

  Wren’s laptop was on the bedside cabinet.

  “Oh,” said Maureen. “I needed to borrow that. I bought a house.”

  Wren said, a little emotional, “You bought a house? Just like that?”

  “We can’t all stay here,” said Maureen. “It’s much too crowded, and you have this weird smell about you that makes my nose itch.” Wren was about to object that she didn’t smell when Maureen continued. “I’m moving into Garrett’s old house later today. It’s got lots of rooms.”

  Wren was crestfallen. She didn’t want her to go, but it was right that she left. She needed to live her own life.

  “We’re still sisters, right?” Wren asked.

  Maureen smiled. “Sisters forever.”

  FIONA CONTINUED TO sip her tea, aware that Casper was glaring balefully at her. She tried to ignore him, but after a while it got too much.

  “What are you accusing me of?” Fiona demanded. “Are you accusing me of lying?”

  The cat turned away, more content with cleaning his tail than with her.

  “Fine,” she said. “I lied. But I had to. I can’t tell her. I can never tell her.”

  She wished she could Wren the truth. She hated lying to her. But what could she do? Cynthia had sworn her to secrecy. If she broke her promise something terrible would happen to her. She’d probably end up turned to ashes or her wings clipped or something equally nasty.

  But it’s not all bad, right? Wren had something wonderful coming along.

  “It’s just my job to make sure nothing gets in the way,” said Fiona.

  YOU CAN BUY BOOK 4 “Comatose in Como” right now!

  https://www.amazon.com/Comatose-Como-Snowflake-Cozy-Mysteries-ebook/dp/B08VW2JYF6/ref=pd_ybh_a_3?_encoding=UTF8&psc=1&refRID=5A6363S3FPM6GXVMWFZT

  For a preview of book 4 read on

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  Chapter 1

  “You’re late,” Miranda snapped.

  The man sat down at the table. There was a half-eaten plate of pasta in front of him. She’d gotten hungry as she waited, and the small café they were meeting at served beautiful homemade pasta. She couldn’t resist.

  “Traffic is backed up,” said the man. “There was a milk truck stuck on one of the street corners. You know how it is.”

  Some of the tight streets around Lake Como were hazardous to drive. Miranda herself had almost crashed half a dozen times driving around her Mini Cooper when she first learned to drive. She was used to it now but back then it had been quite scary.

  “I just need to know,” said Miranda. “I can’t take this any longer. It’s driving me insane.”

  “Are you sure?” he asked.

  She nodded. She was sure.

  He placed a leather briefcase on the table and opened it. He took out a series of high definition photographs. Miranda flicked through them one by one, frustrated and on the verge of hysteria.

  “What are these?” she demanded.

  “They are what I saw,” said the man.

  “These don’t confirm anything. They’re useless.”

  “I only take pictures of what I see. I can’t make people do anything.”

  Miranda leaned back in her chair, taking in the aroma of the café. She breathed in and out, trying to control herself. Maybe this was proof that she had nothing to worry about? Maybe she was just being paranoid?

  “Thank you,” she said, placing a check on top of his briefcase. “You did well.”

  “You don’t need my services any longer?” he asked, sounding a little dismayed.

  “I have what I need.”

  “Just because I didn’t photograph it doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.”

  That wasn’t what she wanted to hear, but she didn’t care. She had all the proof she needed. Miranda thanked him for his services and left for home.

  THE VILLA WAS QUIET as she ente
red through the front door. The children were at school, and Beppe was at a meeting. Miranda liked having the place all to herself. She imagined she was a fading Hollywood star, living in a mansion, wandering and wondering what could have been.

  She slipped her shoes off and headed for the balcony. It was a little cold outside but she didn’t mind it. She loved her view of the Dolomites and the lake. She wouldn’t swap it for anything else.

  She did miss Snowflake Bay sometimes. Every now and then she’d wake up and think she was back in her home town and it gutted her when she realized she was in Italy. She missed Snowflake Bay and its warmth. She missed Keegan and Alex and Lenny. Most of all she missed Wren.

  “Do you want something to drink before I head for lunch?” Aria asked.

  “No thank you,” said Miranda. ‘If I want something I’ll get it myself.”

  Aria bowed her head. “As you wish.”

  Miranda mentally berated herself for being so rude, but she couldn’t help it. They didn’t need a maid. She could very well get her own drinks and dinner. Beppe had insisted, though. They were affluent, influential people now. They had to have staff. It would be unseemly not to.

  A giant villa and staff and a view of the lake. This was what I wanted, right?

  “What I really want is a drink,” she whispered.

  She got up off her chair and made her way inside. She caught Aria and her husband hugging near the top of the stairs. When he let her go he saw his wife.

  “She had some bad news,” said Beppe.

  Aria wiped at her eyes. “My grandmother is in hospital. She might not survive the night.”

  “I’m so sorry,” said Miranda. “Is there anything we can do?”

  Their maid smiled through the pain and said, “I will be fine. I need to go to her.”

  They both gave her the day off, and Aria thanked them and went to see her grandmother. When she was gone Miranda turned to her husband.

  “You were very familiar with her,” Miranda accused.

  “She was upset,” said Beppe defensively. “What was I supposed to do?”