MISTLETOE IS MURDER
KATHY CRANSTON
Copyright © Kathy Cranston 2016
All rights reserved
This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Chapter 1
Jessie Henderson reached up and wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. “My goodness, it’s like a furnace in here,” she gasped.
It was true. She had never felt heat like it. Then again, she’d never been tasked with cooking Christmas dinner for more than thirty people before.
Having an early Christmas party in the café was Aunt Bee’s idea. She saw it as a way to bring the community together after an eventful year of multiple murders and scheming property developers. All this in Springdale, where incidents of double parking made the front page of the local newspaper on slow news weeks.
“So,” Aunt Bee said cheerfully, shuffling back into the kitchen from the café. “How’s everybody doing?”
The small kitchen at the back of the café was crowded with ten or more people. Some of the attendees had insisted on helping and had shown up early to peel and prep the mountain of food they needed to cook.
Jessie turned and gave her aunt a thumbs up. “We’re looking good, Aunt Bee. I spoke to Lottie not long ago and the turkey has been cooking for hours. The meat side is under control, at least.”
Bee smiled. “It’s good to have an expert on the case.”
Lottie was the local butcher and a friend of both women. She had insisted on looking after the meat for the party, and Jessie had been only too happy to let her take charge.
“I know,” Jessie nodded, putting down her knife and shaking out her arm. It was stiff and heavy from peeling scores of yams. And they were just getting started.
“Aren’t we all so lucky,” Karen Palmer said. She had her back to them, but her sarcastic tone came across loud and clear.
Jessie might have been shocked, but her friend Lottie was a polarizing figure in the town. Still, she felt bound by loyalty to defend her friend.
“Yes we are, Karen,” she said, trying to sound mild but unable to keep the sting from her voice. “Lottie’s roasts are out-of-this-world good and she was kind enough to supply all the meat for this party.”
Karen’s shoulders tensed. She stayed facing away, hunched over the carrots she was peeling. Aunt Bee shuffled closer to Jessie and tapped her on the shoulder. It was an obvious signal to calm down and forget about it. Jessie turned and nodded. She knew her aunt was right.
She didn’t know Karen very well—the other woman had just moved back to Springdale with her young son, having left the town six years earlier. By rights, the two women should have bonded over their common experience of moving from the city to small town Springdale, but Karen hadn’t seemed to warm to Jessie. She was often quiet to the point of sullen.
Martin, the Bakehouse’s newest employee, jumped away from the bench, shaking Jessie out of her thoughts.
“What is it, Martin?” she asked, rushing to his side.
Having all of these people in the kitchen was freaking her out—she knew it would be a disaster if anything happened to one of them. But she saw—to her relief—that Martin was laughing.
“Sorry, boss,” he said sheepishly. “I saw something move out of the corner of my eye and thought it was a giant rat.”
Jessie balked. “You saw what?” she asked, looking around in horror.
“No,” he said, squeezing her arm. “It’s okay. It’s just a cat.”
Jessie shook her head. Martin was in his early twenties and a student at the local college, so it made sense that he didn’t know it was illegal to have non-helper animals in the café. “It can’t be in here. Where was it? You know how I always have to leave Toby outside?”
She saw the realization hit him. He pointed across the room to where Bee’s friend Claudia Kingston and her neighbor, Lainey Fiennes, were working side-by-side. “Over there,” he said quietly.
Jessie moved around the bench. The little tabby cat had been blocked by the island in the center of the kitchen, but she saw it now at Claudia’s legs.
“Claudia,” she said calmly, not wanting to make a scene. She didn’t know the woman well, but she was a close friend of her Aunt Bee’s and Jessie had heard all about how Claudia was very particular and was used to getting her own way. “Is that your cat? Can you take him outside please?”
Claudia glanced down and balked at the cat. “Get out of here, go on,” she said, shooing it away. “I know you’re cute and all, but you can’t come inside like this.”
He stared back at her as he followed Lainey to the sink and wound himself around her legs.
“Oh, you’re just so cute. But you’ve got to go outside,” Claudia cooed, bending forward to pick him up.
He leaped out of her reach with a loud meow and trotted to the door. Martin unlocked it and pulled it open. Jessie heaved a sigh of relief.
“Thank you, Claudia,” she said, smiling. “I’m sorry about that, but the health inspectors could shut us down if they saw an animal in here.”
Claudia frowned but didn’t say anything. Jessie shuddered. She told herself it was the heat making them all act crazy. She went back to the door, opened it a crack and stood guard so the cat couldn’t get back in. When she saw there was no sign of him in the yard, she opened the door wider and closed her eyes. She wasn’t usually a fan of cold weather, but the crisp air made such a nice change from the stifling heat of the kitchen.
“Oh, good heavens,” Claudia screamed suddenly, making them all jump.
Jessie slammed the door shut and rushed to her side. “What is it? Have you cut yourself?”
“No,” Claudia whispered. The poor woman was shaking like a leaf. “No, just a scrape. I’ve been trying and trying to use these scissors but they’re not working.”
“Here, give them to me. They might need to be sharpened.”
“But they’re plenty sharp,” Claudia said, throwing her hands skyward in frustration. “I just told you—they scraped me. They’re not working.”
“I used them just this morning,” Jessie said. “And they were fine. But I’ll find you another pair.”
“Thank you, Jessie,” Claudia smiled.
“It won’t do any good,” Lainey announced from the sink.
Jessie looked at her. Lainey hadn’t even looked up from rinsing cabbage leaves. “What? Why? There might be another pair over here.”
Lainey smiled. “She’s part of the one-in-ten. Creative bunch, if impractical.”
“Huh?” Jessie muttered, still hunting for another pair of scissors. She had known Lainey for a while but hadn’t really warmed to the woman. She seemed snobbish, with a very high opinion of herself. Bee had felt obligated to invite her because Lainey had latched on to her at the Springdale Women in Business meetings.
“She’s left-handed,” Lainey said patiently. “Unless you’ve got a special pair, she’s not going to be able to use any of yours.”
Oh,” Jessie said, turning to Claudia and looking to her for confirmation.
“Of course,” Claudia said, flushing. “I should have thought of that. I’m not much of a cook. Lucky my neighbor knows me better than I know myself. Oh look here, I don’t want you to go to any trouble. I’ll help with the vegetables and let somebody else cut the bacon strips.”
“Great,” Jessie said, looking around. The giant pile of vegetables on the counter was slowly beginning to diminish as people peeled, chopped and seasoned. But there was a lot left to do. “I’ll be back in a moment. I’d better
get this pie out of the hothouse before it turns to goop.”
***
The café floor of Bee’s Bakehouse had been completely transformed into a festive wonderland. Jessie’s cousin Mel had attended a wreath-making class during the week. Several of her creations hung from the ceiling, along with sprigs of holly and mistletoe dangling from red and gold ribbons. The walls were covered in decorations made by the kids from Springdale Middle School.
There wasn’t a surface in the place that wasn’t covered with tinsel, baubles or fake snow.
Jessie loved it.
Christmas had been a lot different in her previous workplace. Corporate headquarters had decreed that festive decorations were a health and safety risk, so she’d had to make do with constructing a tiny tree out of paperclips and bits of green paper. It had looked more like a piece of trash than a festive decoration.
She grinned and looked around again at the twinkling fairy lights. They had turned the café into every kid’s dream—and every big kid’s dream.
They had cleared all of the chairs out and then pushed the four-seater tables together to form a large ‘c’ shape so that all of their guests would fit at the same large table. The booth in the back was reserved for Santa, who would make a surprise visit once they had finished eating. Charles Daly, Springdale’s Chief of Police, hadn’t needed much persuasion to agree to take on the role.
“It’s gorgeous,” Tania grinned, carrying a covered tray of cold appetizers out to the huge table that ran along the center of the café.
Jessie smiled. She had become good friends with Tania’s mother, Julia. Julia had been missing her daughter terribly since she left for college that fall. Jessie had missed her too—Tania had worked part-time at the café and knew everything about running the place. They were lost without her.
She nodded. “It sure is. Gosh, I wish we could keep it like this every day.”
Tania shook her head. “You’ll be fed up of the Christmas carols after two weeks. Trust me,” she laughed.
“Has she always played them on loop?” Jessie had been amazed when Aunt Bee had dusted off the stereo from the kitchen the week before and placed it pride of place on the counter, where it had been blaring out an old Christmas CD ever since.
Tania nodded. “It’s the only time she’ll ever have music playing in the café. She says it’s too bothersome. Somebody always wants to change to a different song.”
Jessie shrugged as she carefully placed the pie in the display cabinet. She figured it had a better chance of setting in there than in the roasting hot kitchen.
“How is college?” Jessie asked.
Tania grinned. “It’s great. It was a little strange to begin with but I’ve settled in now.”
“Do you miss us?” Jessie teased.
Tania nodded earnestly. “Yes, all the time. I love Springdale. Sometimes I wish I could come back here every weekend, but it’s just not possible.”
Jessie was about to respond when the door flew open. Lottie rushed through. Well, Jessie assumed it was her from her shoes—her face was completely obscured by a huge mound of foil.
“My stove!” Lottie wailed. “I don’t know what happened but I heard a popping sound and it’s refusing to work. I called the company and they won’t be able to send somebody out until late next week! Do you have room in yours?”
Jessie eyed the foil suspiciously. “Please tell me that’s the cooked turkey,” she said. “And you just need to roast chestnuts?”
“I wish I could tell you that,” Lottie wailed. Jessie had never heard her sound so worked up. “The thing just about fits in my oven and I’ve got a professional kitchen. This was the only place I could think of. I know there’s probably no room, what with you preparing all of the sides and pies.”
They rushed back to the kitchen and Jessie was almost bowled over by the heat again.
“Is there space in the oven?” she asked the room at large.
Jessie’s cousin Mel turned around, making no attempt to even hide her laughter. “Sure,” she said. “If you’re looking to cook a single pea.”
“Um… more like an extra-large turkey,” Jessie said quietly.
But not quietly enough, as it turned out. The raucous chatter died down instantly and everybody in the crowded room turned to look at her.
Chapter 2
“It’s my fault,” Lottie said. “I didn’t have a backup plan.”
Jessie rolled her eyes. “You had no way of knowing that your stove would go bust on the day you tried to cook for dozens of people.”
Lottie sighed. “I should have thought of it. If I’d played safe and got two medium turkeys, I could have split them across two ovens. Now I’m completely stuck.”
“My oven is pretty big I think,” Claudia said. “The turkey can’t be that large.”
Lottie rolled her eyes. “Have you seen the size of this thing? Come to think of it, have you even opened your oven?”
Claudia pursed her lips. Lainey wiped her hand on a dishcloth and patted the other woman’s shoulder. “Must you be so abrasive?” she asked Lottie.
Lottie stared at her for a second before bursting out laughing. “You had me there, Lainey. You know me, I say it like it is.”
Lainey shrugged, the sides of her mouth turning up. “It won’t fit,” she said to Claudia.
“See?” Lottie said frantically. “I should have thought of this. Lainey, what about your place? You’ve got a top of the line stove, right?”
Lainey shook her head. “I’m afraid it’s out of action. Remodeling. I’m staying at the Manor while the work is done, you know that. Why don’t you try Lindemann’s?”
“You know,” Lottie said. “That’s not such a bad idea. Have you got Freddie’s number, Jessie?”
Jessie pulled her phone from the pocket of her apron and scanned through her contact list, smearing pie filling all over the screen. She found the number and hit dial, crossing her fingers and hoping somebody was there.
“Lindemann’s,” a smooth voice said.
“Oh, thank goodness,” Jessie gasped. “Freddie, it’s Jessie. Look, we’ve had a little emergency with the turkey. Is there any chance we could come over and use one of your ovens?”
“Of course,” Freddie said. “Come on over.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes,” Freddie said. “I’ve been looking forward to this meal for the past month. Anything I can do to help. I wish I could be there, but we’re flat out here.”
“I understand,” Jessie said with a smile. “You’ve done more than enough. We’ll be over in a few minutes.”
Jessie dialed off and sighed with relief. “Lindemann’s,” she said to Lottie. “Let’s go.”
This was too big a deal to have anything go wrong. They had invited all of their friends from Springdale. Everybody had helped with the planning in some small way. Jessie couldn’t bear the thought of disappointing them. The people of Springdale had become like a second family to her and she was determined not to let them down.
***
Jessie popped her head out the kitchen door and looked around the café. There was nobody there—just like the last time she checked five minutes before.
“Where is she?” she muttered.
Lottie should have been back a half hour before. Jessie had tried calling her, but it had gone straight to voicemail.
“She’s not the superwoman everybody thinks she is,” Karen sniffed, squeezing past to find another trivet from the dwindling supply on the bench.
Jessie spun around. This time, Aunt Bee wasn’t around to moderate her reaction and Jessie was in no mood for such petty nonsense.
“What’s your problem with her?” she asked. “Is there some sort of ancient history between the two of you that you’re refusing to let go of?”
“That’s none of your business,” Karen said, scowling.
Jessie nodded, trying to calm herself. She wasn’t a big fan of confrontation, but some things needed to be said aloud.
“It’s not. But when you’re in my café, can you please leave the petty comments at the door? Disliking somebody is no reason to constantly belittle them, especially when they’re not around to defend themselves.”
Karen rolled her eyes. “Lottie Benson is plenty able to defend herself. She doesn’t need you as her knight in shining armor.”
Jessie opened her mouth to respond but then stopped herself. There wasn’t time for this. And whatever about her previous statements, Karen was right about one thing—Lottie was well able to take care of herself.
“This is silly. We have a lot to do instead of arguing. Thanks so much for helping out by the way. I don’t think my aunt realized how much prep work would be needed for this. And I thought our regular mornings at the café were busy.”
Karen smiled for the first time that Jessie had seen. “No problem. It’s—”
A noise out the front made both of their heads snap around at the same time.
“What was that?” Jessie asked, rushing back to the kitchen doors. There was something about the metallic scraping sound that gave her the heebie-jeebies.
Sure enough, once she pushed through the swinging doors and into the café, she saw there was somebody outside the café door. She couldn’t see who it was—the Christmas decorations almost completely obscured the glass—but the glint of foil was enough to tell her it was Lottie.
“Lottie, wait,” Jessie squealed, dashing across the floor as carefully as she could. Though she figured a few broken bones would be a small price to pay to keep that troublesome bird intact.
Jessie reached the door and opened it cautiously. She found Lottie with the tray balancing on her leg as she reached for the door a second time. Jessie had no idea how she was doing that—not only was it heavy, but the tray must have been scorching hot.
“For goodness sake,” Jessie said, exasperation quickly leaving her as she caught the look of desperation on Lottie’s face. “Why didn’t you call me? I could have come out and helped.”
Lottie shrugged. “I didn’t think of calling from the car, and once I got here it was too late. My phone is buried in one of my inside pockets.”
Mistletoe is Murder Page 1