Secret Santa Murder
Page 12
“Bring tea with you,” Minette said. She sat down in front of her spoon, looking with concern at my no-doubt-haggard face.
“That’s not a bad idea. Hot tea in a Thermos. I’ll bet it’s freezing out there this morning. You don’t mind going to the woods?”
“I love the woods.”
“Was your sugar bowl as nice as the night before last?”
Her arms shot in the air. “It was heaven!”
I got up and made more tea, and while the leaves steeped in a pot, I hunted for my Thermos, which I finally found in one of the cabinets. All the while I tried to keep my mind off the calendar. I’d dreaded this first anniversary of Michael’s death, and this second Christmas without him.
Thermos ready, I put on my boots and coat, and Minette dived headfirst into my right-side pocket. But just before heading out the door, I snatched a silver ornament from the tree in the living room and put it in my left pocket.
The sun was bright, reflecting off the several inches of snow that had fallen overnight, so though it was cold, it wasn’t bitterly so. It took me a full minute to walk carefully to the end of my driveway, and when I did, I turned to look back at my house. I’d expected gloom, I suppose—an empty, lonely, bereft-of-Christmas house—but it looked warm and homey. “Emily and Laurence left their outside Christmas lights on,” I whispered.
Minette poked her head a fraction above my pocket. “It’s so pretty!”
“Back down now,” I ordered. My neighbors liked to watch the goings-on from their windows, especially in the morning. “They think I’m a crazy widow and talk to myself, but I don’t want them to catch sight of you.”
Once I’d made it to the woods, I asked Minette to lead me again to her maple tree. I knew the general direction to walk in, but one maple looked much like any other maple to me.
I trudged ahead through the snow, glad I’d worn my boots and brought something hot to drink. There wasn’t a single track, human or animal, in sight, and the forest was silent except for a couple chickadees and the occasional sound of branches rubbing on branches when the wind picked up.
A few minutes later, we were at the foot of Minette’s tree. She left my pocket and fluttered to my shoulder, nestling between my neck and collar. I took a deep breath of cold, clean air. “Aren’t you freezing?” I asked.
“Not now. But sometimes I do a little.”
I turned my head all the way to the right, but all I could see was one small, pink arm on my coat collar. “You need warmer clothes. You can’t keep wearing your summer and fall ones.”
“There’s no one to make them for me, and I don’t know how.”
“I’ll make them.”
“Will you?”
“Yes, of course I will. I can sew, believe it or not. I’ve never tried anything so small, but I’ll give it a go.”
“Thank you, Kate. That’s a happy Christmas present.”
Retrieving the silver ornament from coat pocket, I held it up by its hook. “Should we put this on your tree?”
“You brought it with you! It’s so pretty.”
I fastened the ornament to the tree by wrapping the hook around a thin branch. “Now you’re decorated for Christmas.”
“But it’s not my tree anymore,” Minette said.
“Because you live with me.” I unscrewed the cup from my Thermos and poured a little tea. “I’m glad there’s no aconite in this.”
“Never!” She flew from my shoulder to the branch, sat down, and touched the hook with both hands. “No, I don’t live in this tree anymore, and I can’t ever come back.”
“You can come back in the spring. It’ll be warmer then. You can spend warm spring nights in your tree, with orchids for your pillows.”
“No, I can’t ever.” She gazed at me, her emerald eyes wet with tears.
I stepped closer to her. “Minette, what is it? What’s troubling you?”
“There are bad things in this forest. Sometimes.”
“What do you mean? I don’t understand you when you talk like that.”
“I mean fairies. There are bad ones. Bad fairies.”
I laughed and steam shot from my mouth. Immediately I regretted my thoughtlessness. Still clinging to the hook, Minette turned her face from me. “No, no, I didn’t mean to laugh,” I said. “I’m sorry. It just sounds funny to a human. We don’t think of fairies as bad or scary.”
She turned back, her chin trembling. “Why not?”
“That’s a good question, and I have no good answer. This is all new to me, Minette. It all sounds so . . . foreign and magical. Like I really shouldn’t believe it—only there you are, real as can be, and I can’t deny it. Are there other fairies here now?”
“I don’t hear any. But they may be sleeping.”
“Seriously?” I lifted my eyes to the treetops around me—towering maples and sweet-scented balsams. “I’ve never seen them.”
“You don’t see what you don’t think exists.”
“How many bad fairies are there?”
“I don’t know how many. They’re like humans. There are some, but not as many as the good ones.”
“Is that why you left the forest?”
“That’s why my friends left too.”
I stared into the woods, lovely and deep with snow. Had some sort of monumental fairy battle taken place here? The idea was both bizarre and terrifying. But to Minette, it was recent and very real history, and it had robbed her of her home. I held my finger out, hoping she’d climb onto it, but she didn’t budge. “Are you saying the only fairies left in the woods are bad?”
“No, Kate.”
“Are there other scary things in the forest?”
“Yes.”
“You have to tell me.”
“Not today.”
“Emily and I could take your forest back for you and your friends.”
Minette scrunched up her face. Clearly I didn’t understand fairies or their woods. “It’s hard, Kate. We must talk later.”
“All right, we’ll talk later. But if we can solve murders, we can get your home and friends back.”
“Can we find berries to decorate your Christmas tree?”
“Our tree, and yes. I’ll help you look for berries on the way back.”
Standing in the woods—Michael’s woods—with Minette crouched on a snowy branch and the sun breaking through the treetops to strike the sparkling snow, my heart felt lighter than it had in a long time. True hope is swift and flies with fairy’s wings. I didn’t know as much Shakespeare as Minette did, but I knew that. Okay, I’d changed the words a bit. Shakespeare had written swallow’s wings, not fairy’s. But then, he’d never met Minette, and he would never know how she had flown into my life in the nick of time.
“You know what I should do for Christmas?” I said. “Take Norma and Irene cookies. Just drop in, say, ‘Merry Christmas,’ and leave some cookies. They’re alone too.”
“No, no, they’re coming to your house,” Minette said. An instant later she clamped her hands on her mouth and stared bug-eyed at me. “Nooo.”
“What’s that?” I laughed. “Hands off your mouth. What?”
“It was a secret. I told it by accident.”
“Norma and Irene are coming to my house tomorrow?”
Minette nodded.
“How do you know about it?”
“When Irene came inside your house and you got up from the stairs and had to go in the kitchen to talk to Laurence on the phone—”
“How did you know it was Laurence I talked to?”
Minette put her hands on her hips. “Kate.”
“Okay, stupid question. You hear everything. Go on.”
“Irene was still on the stairs, and she made a call on the phone that was in her pocket. She told Emily that everything was in place and she would be there with Norma tomorrow. And she said, ‘Thank you, Emily.’ And then she said, ‘Merry Christmas.’”
“Those sneaky women.” I grinned—big. I couldn’t have wi
ped the smile from my face if I’d wanted to. And then I couldn’t help myself. I let loose with a laugh that echoed in the forest.
Minette hopped to my shoulder. “You’re not angry?”
“At you? No! Not at them, either. How could I be? What good friends I have. Especially you.”
Minette launched herself from my shoulder, shot in the air like a hummingbird rocket, and then fluttered back down until her tiny face was inches from mine. “It’s Christmas, Kate.”
“Merry Christmas, Minette. I pointed at my coat pocket. “Now inside before you freeze. I’ll pick some berries branches, and then we’re heading back for more breakfast. French toast and heaps of maple syrup.”
DROP DEAD COLD
SMITHWELL FAIRIES COZY MYSTERY BOOK 4
FROM THE AUTHOR
If you enjoyed Secret Santa Murder, would you consider leaving a review on Amazon? Nothing fancy, just a sentence or two. Your help is appreciated more than I can say. Every review makes a huge difference in helping readers find the Smithwell Fairies Cozy Mystery Series and in allowing me to continue to write the series. I couldn’t do it without your help. Thank you so much!
MORE BOOKS BY KARIN KAUFMAN
JUNIPER GROVE MYSTERY SERIES
Death of a Dead Man
Death of a Scavenger
At Death’s Door
Death of a Santa
Scared to Death
Cheating Death
Death Trap
Death Knell
Garden of Death
Death of a Professor
CHILDREN’S BOOKS (FOR CHILDREN AND ADULTS)
The Adventures of Geraldine Woolkins
ANNA DENNING MYSTERY SERIES
The Witch Tree
Sparrow House
The Sacrifice
The Club
Bitter Roots