A Candy Cane Cat-astrophe

by Addison Moore

  So she’s not seeing Ford? Sounds like Ford was engaging in some serious wishful thinking.

  “I agree about the pets,” I say. “And depending on how a person treats animals says a lot about them. I’d swear on all that is holy, my sweet cat is a person trapped in a cute furry body.”

  She bucks with a laugh. “You really get me. Now to find a man who feels the same.” She takes another bite of her donut, and I follow her scrumptious lead. “Any news on the case? I was hoping to ask Detective Wexler, but I suppose he’ll be swamped for the rest of the afternoon. He’s got quite the fanbase.”

  “Nothing new that I know of. Although we ran into Beauford Wright yesterday while he was delivering firewood.” I let the words dangle between us a moment to see if she’ll bite, but Kaila has the perfect poker face. Go figure. “Anyway, he mentioned that Holly owed him money. Did she ever bring that up to you? I mean, you spent so much time together here at the library.”

  “Nope.” Her eyes enlarge a moment. “Holly and I weren’t close by any definition, with the exception of physical proximity. Her office was down the hall to the left of the reception area. And believe it or not, she spent most of her time hiding out in there. The rest of us don’t really get offices. We have cubicles in the breakroom. But as soon as the city supervisor gives me the all clear, I’ll get to move into that space and make it my own.”

  “So you’re the head librarian now? Congratulations.”

  “Thank you. The funny thing is, nothing has changed. I’ve been doing Holly’s job for her these last few months. She really had started to spiral. She would show up with a hangover almost every day.”

  “Any idea what made her nosedive like that?”

  “I guess her uncle cut her out of his will and she didn’t get a stitch, or should I say sip out of that old distillery. She was fuming. You could practically see the steam coming from her ears. It wasn’t pretty. Anyway, that was one of the things I wanted to talk to Detective Wexler about. He and his partner are supposed to go through Holly’s office before I can take it on. I’m hoping I’ll have control over it as soon as the new year.”

  Someone gasps near the coffee machine, and we turn to see a cup overturned as piping hot java spills onto the carpet.

  Kaila sighs. “I’d better take care of this. Excuse me, Bowie.”

  I thread through the bodies until I’m almost to the front where Shep is still trying to fight back the masses when Carol Bransford catches my eye. She’s perusing a book by the pedestal where Shep was standing a few minutes ago.

  I speed her way and peer over her shoulder. She seems to be looking at a register of some sort. Dozens and dozens of signatures and what appear to be short one or two line messages are scrawled across the pages.

  “What’s this?” I ask as I circle around to where she can see me. “Are people signing in for the reading?”

  Carol’s eyes flash up at me before she takes a breath.

  “Bowie, you scared me.” She gives a nervous titter of a laugh. “No, it’s not for the signing. I just—I sort of stumbled upon it. I guess it’s for Holly. The library has left a condolence journal out for whoever wanted to leave a few kind words. I was just going through it.” She blinks back tears.

  “I’m sorry for your loss,” I say. “I know you mentioned the two of you went way back.”

  She gives a hard sniff. “You know, at one point, Holly was like a sister to me. She was one of those people who everyone thought had it together. Everyone thought she was so very, very lucky. It’s still hard for me to understand how things ended the way they did between us. It was all so sudden and so very, very ugly.”

  “Maybe you should write a few things down for her,” I suggest. “I mean, it might help to get things off your chest and tell her how much you miss the way things were in the beginning.”

  Her lips press tight as a seam of tears fills her lash line.

  “You know, Bowie, I think I’m actually going to do that.” She riffles through her purse for a pen and a business card floats to the ground.

  I quickly snap it up for her and turn it around. It’s at least twice the thickness of a traditional business card and feels creamy to the touch. There’s a gold stripe across the front and it reads Carol Bransford, CFO Dillinger Distillery.

  “Oh wow,” I say, handing it back to her. “I didn’t realize you were the CFO of the distillery.”

  She makes a face as she takes the card from me. “Believe me, it was a short-lived position. But thankfully, all that’s behind me. In fact, the board just reelected me as a member again. It’s a relief. I’ve given my all to that company. I’m staying on as the manager of DoReMi Karaoke. Once you have that much fun at a place of employment, there’s no going back.” She holds up her pen. “Excuse me.”

  “Sure thing.” I take off toward the front just as Shep emerges from a sea of women.

  He’s donned a dark suit, a dark tie, and coincidentally has a dark look in his eyes, giving him a naughty appeal that has every woman in this room at heightened attention.

  He wraps his arms around me, and the entire room sighs in unison.

  “I think I’m the luckiest person here.” I bite down on a naughty smile of my own.

  He shakes his head. “It’s me.”

  Shep takes me by the hand as I circulate the room with him, listening to dozens upon dozens of women cooing at him, watching as they give him bedroom eyes, and standing in disbelief as a couple of them brazenly slip him their number.

  “You know this wouldn’t fly in New Jersey,” I whisper as we make our way to the refreshment table. “Back in Jersey, I would have had Lola hold my earrings while I gave a few numbers to the girls in question—as I counted off the amount of times my fist met up with their lips.”

  “That sounds violent.”

  “It might be violent, but judging by the way women are flocking to have their lips bloated with fillers, I would practically be doing them a favor. I could have charged for the service.”

  “S.J. Wexler.” Mayor Wright pops up and snaps a chocolate glazed donut from one of the pink boxes on the table. “It was a delight.”

  “Thank you.” Shep nods. “And I meant what I said. I’ll have my publisher send you an advanced copy in about a month when they’re available. Usually they send them out to critics and advanced readers, but I have access to a handful.”

  Mayor Wright gives a hearty ho, ho, ho of a laugh even though he’s not in his official head elf uniform. It’s not hard to see why he was chosen for the job. Not only does he have the snow-white hair, but he’s got the burgeoning belly to go along with it.

  “A high profile author like you? I’d suspect you can get your publisher to do anything you want.” He leans Shep’s way. “Anything new with the investigation?”

  Shep tenses as if maybe there is but he’s reluctant to share.

  His eyes meet up with mine for a moment. “Mayor, I don’t want to ruin your holidays, but the only physical evidence at the scene is the one that links you to the crime.”

  “It’s that darn boot,” he growls as if it genuinely enraged him.

  Shep nods. “You said you went back there to have a quick smoke.”

  The mayor’s eyes take on the shape of hardboiled eggs. “Did I say that?”

  “Yes.” I blink back surprise. “In fact, I was there.”

  Shep’s chest pulsates with a silent laugh. “You weren’t smoking, were you?”

  Mayor Wright’s expression darkens. “No, I wasn’t. Okay, fine. I was talking to Holly. Things got heated again over my brother, but I swear to you I stalked off. That’s when I stepped in the mud. And I left her there. Whoever did this to her did it after I took off. Do you really think I could have killed a woman I once swore to love for all eternity, then quickly put on a happy face for the crowd at the ceremony? Holly and I didn’t get along, but I’m no monster.” He expels a deep sigh before tossing his donut into the trash without taking a single bite out of it. “I’m sorry.�
� He nods to Shep. “You know where to find me if you need to ask any more questions.”

  Shep and I watch as he takes off.

  “He looks awful guilty,” I say.

  “Yup,” Shep acknowledges. “But you’d be surprised. Sometimes the one whose hands look the dirtiest often didn’t commit the crime. It’s simply a case of wrong place, wrong time.”

  Stephanie and Tilly head toward the checkout desk, each with an armful of books. And striding right past them is Carol Bransford as she stalks out of the library.

  “Come on,” I say as I pull Shep over to the condolence book where I last left Carol. “I can feel my time here dwindling. Lola and Tilly are going to want to get home to gobble up their new batch of dirty books.”

  We open the condolence book, and I scan the first few pages until we come upon Carol’s name. Rest in peace, my friend. No one deserves it more than you.

  Shep twitches his head. “It’s the kind of thing that can go either way. I’d like to think she meant it in the genuine capacity.”

  “I’m sure she did.”

  But I can’t help but note the word you is underlined three times. It feels harsh, abrasive, and so very angry.

  I guess deep down Carol Bransford still isn’t over the hurt.

  They say time heals all wounds, I hope for her sake they’re right.

  “You free tonight?” Shep asks as a crooked grin takes over his face.

  “For you? Always. What do you have in mind?”

  “It’s a surprise. Wear something loose.”

  “The easier to get me out of?” I’m only half-teasing.

  His lids hood low. “Exactly that.”

  He lands a kiss to my lips, and ten different women gasp and coo.

  Much like Holly Wright, everything on the outside of my life would have the world thinking I’m so very, very lucky.

  And much like Holly Wright, my world has imploded on the inside, with the exception of meeting Shep.

  Let’s just hope that vision of him wanting to turn me in is nothing but a misunderstanding on my part.

  Everything about Shep is perfect, almost too perfect.

  And it leaves me to wonder if I’m lucky or unlucky in love.

  I guess only time will reveal.

  And I have no doubt it will reveal Holly Wright’s killer, too.

  Chapter 12

  It turns out, Shep’s idea of a surprise date involves gloves, a ladder, and getting intimate with the frozen bushes that run along the side of his cabin and mine.

  “We’re almost done,” he calls out from up above as I do my best to hold his ladder steady.

  “We’re not almost done,” I point out. “We still have an entire string left. We should run it along the border of the front windows.”

  It’s dark as a crow’s armpit, cold as a glacier, and lightly snowing as we stand outside of my cabin putting up thick colorful bulbs that I used to call Snoopy lights when I was younger.

  My mother only allowed for white twinkle lights back in Hastings. The entire house looked like a glammed up version for the holidays, but somewhere in my childlike heart I’ve always had a yearning for these fat colorful bulbs. There’s just something homey and adorable about them. And lucky for me, these are all that Shep happened to have on hand.

  He climbs down the ladder just as Stephanie comes out of the cabin with a couple of steaming mugs.

  “Come get your hot cocoa with marshmallows!” She hands us each a cup before the three of us head down to the walkway to admire our work.

  “It looks amazing, Shep.” I hike up on the balls of my feet and land a kiss to his cheek.

  “Thanks,” he says. “This is the first time I’ve put up lights in years.”

  “Aww,” Stephanie coos. “Hear that, Bowie? This man risked his neck just to impress you. Now that’s romantic. You know what they say, the man who puts up lights for you, fights for you.”

  “Nobody says that.” I take a sip of my hot cocoa and try my best to suck up a marshmallow.

  “I’m saying it.” My sister doubles down on her efforts. “Besides, Enzo has already invited me to check out his place up in Scooter Springs. He’s renting a house until he can buy, and he hinted there might be mistletoe involved. My bet is, he’s going to invite me to have at his tree. When a man asks you to decorate his tree, you’re basically in line to be the missus. It’s practically a marriage proposal. We might even put up lights.”

  “He’s going to invite you to have at something, all right.” I make a face. “I don’t think you should go. The guy is a gangster. And didn’t we leave Hastings for a better life? The guy totes a gun around in hopes to pop people off the planet. I’d steer clear of men who feel the need to haul around weaponry.”

  “Oh? Like you did?” She averts her eyes.

  “Shep is different.” I curl up next to him. “He’s one of the good guys. He locks up men like Enzo and Dom for a living.”

  She all but growls at me. “What about you? You’re a gangster. When is he going to lock you up? I’m not talking about for fun either.”

  “All right.” Shep makes the time-out sign with his hands as best he can without spilling his cocoa. “Bowie is just looking out for your best interest. She’s right. These men are trouble. It’s best to get out now before you’re in too deep.”

  She shrugs. “What’s the worst that can happen? I end up with a bad ex?”

  “You end up on the run from the feds and the mob.” I nod her way. “Or you get an extended stay at a correctional facility. That’s the worst that can happen.”

  She narrows her eyes my way. That clear look of irritation she’s sporting lets me know she is not amused.

  “I happen to look good in orange. I’ll take my chances.” She looks to Shep. “So what’s next on the agenda, Hot Stuff?”

  His lips curve as he looks my way. “I was thinking we could decorate my tree.”

  Stephanie tosses a hand in the air. “And just like that, she gets a marriage proposal.”

  Shep’s phone buzzes, and he glances to the screen with a frown.

  “It looks as if we’ll have to reschedule our tree-trimming party.”

  “What?” I squawk with disappointment while trying to peer over at his phone. “I was just about to pull out the fresh anise cookies I made this afternoon.” And my ring finger.

  “Mmm,” he moans as his eyes ride up and down my body, and I’m sort of hoping he’s hungry for something extra. “I won’t be missing out for long. I should be back in about two hours. There’s some new evidence Nora wants me to take a look at.”

  Stephanie sneers over at him. “Nora? As in your ex-fiancée?”

  Shep presses out a forced smile. “Nora as in my current co-worker.” He lands a kiss to my lips before pulling back and frowning at me. “Don’t get into trouble while I’m gone.”

  “Hey, you keep saying that to me. What makes you think I’d get into trouble?” I call out after him as he heads for his cabin.

  “I’ve met you, Bowie,” he shouts back. “Trouble is your middle name.”

  Stephanie elbows me in the ribs. “Why in the heck didn’t you insist on going with him? He’s off to see his ex. And you’re interested in the case. You could’ve kept an eye on those two.”

  “I don’t want to keep an eye on those two. I trust him. Besides, I’ve got other places to keep my eyes—like, say the public library. It’s only seven. They close at eight. I’ve got to get a move on.”

  “What are you going to do at the library? Question a suspect?”

  “Nope. I’m going to snoop around Holly Wright’s office to see what I can find.”

  “There’s no better snoop than me. I’m coming with you.”

  “I didn’t think I could stop you.”

  She starts pecking away at her phone.

  “Steph, who are you texting?” A slight rise of panic infiltrates my voice.

  “Tilly. She’ll never speak to us again if we try to break and enter without her.
”

  “You’re so right,” I say. “Tell her to wear sensible shoes. There might be some running involved.”

  The Starry Falls Public Library is lit up like a Christmas tree on this dark and snowy evening. Tilly said she’d meet us here, so Stephanie and I do our best to sneak in undetected by any of the librarians. Lucky for me, there’s no sight of Kaila anywhere to be had.

  The twinkle lights that festoon the checkout counter blink in and out of turn. The poinsettias are so red and vibrant they almost look fake, and that ceramic Santa standing proudly on the counter looks as if his toy bag needs to have its candy cane supply replenished.

  It looks as though they’ve added some Christmas stockings with each of the librarians’ names on them. Four stockings. That must mean four librarians. And ten bucks says they’re not all closing up shop tonight.

  “Shoot.” Steph snaps her fingers as if in deep regret. “Remember the last time we did something like this? We had fried chicken. I knew we were missing a key ingredient. Let’s go back.”

  “Are you crazy? The library closes in fifteen minutes. Let’s go find Tilly. We can get fried chicken afterwards.”

  “She’s right over there with Regina.”

  “Oh good.” I stop cold as soon as my mind takes a moment to process that last part. Both Tilly and Regina are clad in black—most likely Regina’s go-to morbid look, but for Tilly it more or less signifies mischief is afoot. “Gah! Why is Regina here?”

  “I don’t know.” Steph leads us in that direction. “Maybe she likes naughty books, too?”

  Or maybe Regina likes to be plain old naughty. I’m thinking it’s the latter.

  Tilly waves once she spots us. “Did you bring the fried chicken?”

  I tick my head to the side. “Why would I bring the fried chicken?”

  Regina gasps. “Is this another Operation Fried Chicken?” Her dark hair has a life and body of its own, and don’t think for a minute I’m not envious. “And none of you bothered to call me?”