“The reindeer hoof stamp…” I muttered, my racing thoughts spilling from my mouth before I could stop them.
As soon as I spoke the words, she cried out, “That was for my Joey! For what might be his…his last Christmas! We were going to make it extra special. He wanted to see Santa and his reindeer. And that horrible, despicable man ruined it! That man didn’t just ruin me, he was going to ruin my grandson!”
Joey? Who was Joey? Wait. That was her daughter Charice’s son. How could Hilroy have hurt Joey? “Your grandson? How was he going to hurt Joey, Honey?”
Her shoulders shook again. The gold sweater she wore with shiny red buttons began to splotch with the weight of her tears. “He’s so sick, Hal! So sick. He’s dying! How much pain can a six-year-old take?”
Tears stung my eyes at how helpless she sounded, how raw and afraid. “I didn’t know, Honey. I would have helped, but I didn’t know.”
She shook her head. “I was all set to sell the store to a nice lady from Bangor who would have fit Marshmallow Hollow like a glove until that fancy man showed up with all his money and promises. He was going to buy the store for much more, and that money was going to go toward a treatment by a specialist in Germany for Joey. We had hope for the first time in a long time, Hal, and that man ruined it all! So I whacked him, and I whacked him good and I don’t regret it! No one can make me regret it!”
I wanted to be angry with her for holding me at gunpoint. But how could I when I can’t say I wouldn’t have done the same for a family member if backed into that kind of corner?
“It’s okay, Honey. I promise you, it’s okay. But you don’t have to do this. Give me the gun and I’ll help you figure it out. I promise, I’ll help you,” I pleaded, my throat tight as I attempted to soothe her.
But she straightened quite suddenly, her face going hard again, her voice eerily quiet and determined. “You can’t help me, Hal. And now, because you wouldn’t leave everything alone, I have to do something with you and the newcomer. Why couldn’t you just leave it alone? I don’t want to hurt you, but I have to. It’s for my grandson. For my Joey,” she finished.
My arms were aching from still being up in the air, and Hobbs began to moan, lifting his own arms to brace his hands on the table.
“Hobbs! Don’t move. Please, don’t move!” I warned as Bowser sat up on his haunches, ready to attack.
He stirred again with a groan, making my heart pound in my chest as I looked to Honey.
“What are you going to do with us, Honey? Kill us to keep us quiet? You don’t want to do that. I know you don’t. You were my grandmother’s friend. You were my mother’s friend. Please, don’t do this!”
Her face looked truly torn, but her eyes were glittering stones of determination. “I’d do anything for Joey. Anything—and if that means you have to disappear, I’ll do that, too!”
Just then, Hobbs jolted upward and lunged across the table for Honey, making Bowser growl before he leapt and went for Hobbs’s leg as Honey fired off a shot that narrowly missed me.
Chairs toppled, the table tipped over, a glass fell to the floor and smashed.
“Hobbs, the dog!” I screamed as he crashed to the floor, knocking Honey down.
But almost in admiration, I gotta tell you, I watched her hop up off that floor like Simone Biles and scurry to the other side of the kitchen, the gun still firmly rooted in her hands.
Hobbs struggled while Bowser tore at his leg, his spit flying, his jaws locked, and I knew I had to do something, even if my spells were a whirl of commotion in my head and my pulse was banging in my ears.
I did the only thing I could think of—a stop time spell.
I threw up my hands and screamed an age-old incantation. I wasn’t supposed to, for fear it could change the future. Atti had warned me about performing the stop time spell. Something about paradoxes and all sorts of science stuff I didn’t understand, but I had to do something!
“Time and motion stop this pace, hold all movement in its place!”
To my sheer relief, the sound of Bowser’s angry snarls stopped instantly, as did all movement. Hobbs and Honey were frozen in place, and I raced to Hobbs first, dragging a paralyzed Bowser off his leg.
I had to pry his jaws from Hobbs’s leg with my fingers, blood pouring from a wound he’d left in his calf.
Pushing Bowser as far away as I could, I shoved him into Honey’s bedroom and slammed the door. Then I ran to the back door, which was closer than the exit to the interior of the store, and unlocked it, popping it open.
Now, let me remind you, I struggle all the time with consistency in magic. Sure, I’d cast the spell…but had I remembered to put a timer on it?
Nope. Not this witch.
Moments after I’d pushed Bowser into Honey’s bedroom and opened the back door was when that bullspit spell wore off, leaving me no time to take the gun from Honey or help Hobbs stand.
And that meant what?
I was unprepared. So incredibly unprepared.
When the universe began turning again, I was already huffing and puffing from pushing Bowser around, but somehow I managed to yell as quickly as I could to Hobbs, “Take the back door! Get out! Go!”
But he shook his head as he grabbed the edge of the table. “Not without you!”
“Both of you, don’t make a move!” Honey hollered as Bowser howled and scratched at the bedroom door, the wood beginning to bulge and crack.
Panic rose up and lodged in my throat. I couldn’t think straight enough to figure out what spell to use next to keep her from shooting us.
But Hobbs yanked at the leg of my jeans, his eyes locking with mine, and maybe some of my BFF signal with Stiles had worn off on him because miracle of miracles, I think I knew what he was saying.
He popped up off the floor like a Jack in the Box and hollered, “Honey! What is that?” His eyes opened wide, as if seeing something horrifying.
Her eyes flew to him before Honey looked in the direction Hobbs pointed. She was only distracted for a brief moment, giving him barely enough time to grab my hand and drag me to the door. Hobbs flung me through it seconds before Honey took another shot at us, the bang of it resonating in my ears.
I flew down the metal steps, tripping and stumbling along the surfaces, icy and unshoveled. Falling at the bottom, I face planted, hitting my head on the hard-packed snow, but I managed to turn around to see Hobbs soaring down the stairs behind me.
And then I saw Bowser fly around the corner of the door and, from the top step, launch himself straight for Hobbs’s back as Honey fired off wild shots and bullets pinged the snow.
In that moment, in that horrible moment, as spit flew from Bowser’s wide-open mouth and his angry howl echoed into the empty back lot, I didn’t know what else to do but scream, “Run, Hobbs! Ruuun!”
As he virtually fell down the last step and latched onto my hand, dragging me with him through the deep snow, I cursed my cute boots.
There was no way we could outrun a dog on dry land; forget snow. So I did the only thing I could think to do.
I balled my fist and fired off a shot of magic, using every last bit of energy I could summon. I didn’t know what it would contain, I didn’t know what good it would do in my panic. I only knew I had to at least try.
As Bowser sped toward us, his snarling growl nipping at our heels, his strides as though he had wings, he suddenly melted away and morphed into…
A…
Wait. Was that a…
I squinted in the dark.
A giraffe?
Yeet!
I winced. Oh, man. I’d done it now.
“Bowser! C’mere, boy!” someone called with a whistle.
Stiles. Oh, thank the Goddess it was Stiles. Bowser loved him.
When Hobbs heard Stiles’s voice, we stopped short, without enough time for me to change Bowser back before Hobbs said, “What the—”
I slammed into him on purpose and knocked him face first into the fresh snowbank while he spu
ttered and spat. Then I used the palm of my hand to the back of his head to help me roll over, ensuring he’d have snow all over his face and hopefully blinding him.
Pushing to my side and flinging my hand back in Bowser’s direction, I turned him back into a dog before flopping on the ground next to a sputtering Hobbs.
He spat and coughed as he rolled over to his back next to me and wiped his eyes, while I huffed and puffed and tried to catch my breath.
We lie there for a moment, and I’m guessing it was so he could process what he’d seen.
“Did you see what I saw?” he finally asked with wonder in his voice.
Thank Goddess it was dark. “I don’t know. What did you see?”
“You’re gonna think this is crazy…”
I brushed the hair from my face. “Crazier than Honey Crowley being a killer?”
“Maybe…”
I held my breath and waited for him to answer.
“I swear I saw a giraffe.”
I pulled myself up on my elbows and looked over at him. “You are crazy,” I said, and then I grinned.
At that moment, Stiles came running toward us as red and blue lights flashed in the sky and a good portion of Marshmallow Hollow PD came right behind him. Someone yelled orders and flashlights shot their beams in our eyes and I breathed a deep sigh of relief.
I was cold, but we were alive.
An alive liar. But still one that drew breath.
Epilogue
The next day…
“Here’s to solving our first mystery!” Hobbs held up his wine glass and clinked mine.
I smiled as we sat on the couch with Stiles, Stephen King, Phil and Atti. “We kinda did solve it, didn’t we?” I was torn about the word solving, but we’d definitely had a hand in finding Hilroy’s killer.
Hobbs grinned back and stroked Stephen King’s head as he settled farther into the couch. “We didn’t just kinda solve it. We solved it for sure, Lacey.”
I sipped at my white wine and repositioned my sprained ankle on the pillow he’d put under my foot. “Well, I solved it by proxy. If it hadn’t been for Honey slipping up and telling Judy about the frying pan, I never would have figured it out. So, I think you’re the one who gets points for this solve, Cagney with the good hair.”
“But,” he held up a finger and jabbed at the pine-scented air, “that never would have happened if Bitty hadn’t asked me to pick up the donations from Honey, and I hadn’t gone upstairs to bring them down. I just happened to notice the missing cast-iron frying pan from that set. Our eyes met, she knew I knew, and wham—she klunked my noggin but good.” He rubbed the spot on his head where he had a bandage. “So I think we’re even.”
We’d both ended up in the Marshmallow Hollow emergency room, me with a slight sprain to my ankle (duh. I knew I shouldn’t have worn those ankle boots), and Hobbs with a slight concussion and some puncture wounds on his leg, but no more worse for the wear.
“So you were picking up donations from Honey for Bitty…” It reminded me what a good guy Hobbs is.
His grin was sheepish. “She did hook me up with the best dog in the entire world. I’ll do almost whatever she asks.”
I was also reminded he’d paid for all the adoptions at the adoption fair. Hobbs didn’t just have a good heart, he must have had a really great job before moving here, but I wasn’t up to asking him about it right now.
Right now, I wanted to sit on the couch and feel a little sad about Honey before I brushed myself off and got back in the game of life and enjoyed the month-long holiday celebrations.
“I can’t believe she didn’t knock your head off,” Stiles joked with an ironic shake of his head.
Hobbs tapped his dark head and laughed. “It’s pretty dadgum hard. You know what I can’t believe? I can’t believe it was Honey who planted that frying pan at Jared’s.”
Both myself and Stiles sighed with clear sadness. “I can’t either, but I get how desperate she was,” I said, snuggling under the soft red blanket Hobbs had draped over me earlier.
Stiles shook his head. “Hilroy took her for some ride. That lady she’d had the original offer from confirmed she’d wanted the store. Honey wasn’t lying about that, and little Joey really is sick. He has brain cancer. She wanted the money for a treatment outside of the US. His prognosis is bleak if he doesn’t see this doctor in Germany, and to have Hilroy trick her into basically giving him the store and taking everything away? I almost can’t blame her. Almost.”
I remembered the conversation Judy had been having when we went to her store. She’d mentioned bankruptcy, and I thought she was calling someone “honey.” But she’d actually been speaking to Honey Crowley, who was telling her how Charice and her husband had nothing left for Joey’s care.
As long as I live, I’ll never forget Honey’s face when she said she’d do anything for her grandson. So crushed. So afraid. In so much pain. Quite obviously, she’d meant it. But, I reminded myself, I might do the same if pushed—which is why I’d done what I’d done, and I don’t care what Atti has to say. It was over.
Tears stung my eyes again. “I can’t blame her, either. I know she’s guilty of murder, convincing me there’s nothing stronger than the love for a child, but I hate that she’s going to prison for that.”
“It’s not ideal, but she’ll probably end up where there are other seniors—mostly lifers who are too old to do much but play cards and bingo. It’ll be okay, Hal,” Stiles soothed.
“Poor Walter, though,” Hobbs commented. “That’s her husband, right? Where was he the night Hilroy was murdered, anyway? Didn’t you say he said she was home with him? He was her alibi.”
Stiles’s head bounced as he grimaced. “He did, but what he didn’t mention was that he was sound asleep in the bedroom with Bowser and he didn’t have his hearing aids in. Not that he can hear much with them anyway, but it made it easy for Honey to lie.
“Honey invited Hilroy up to the apartment just before he told her she’d have to vacate, and that’s when she took some swings at him with the stamper. According to her, he fought back, and then she whacked him over the head with the pan. He took off out the back door and managed to get to the alleyway and across the street, where he collapsed in the sleigh.”
“How about the pink fluff you guys found on Hilroy’s head?” I wondered out loud.
Stiles cracked his knuckles and crossed his ankles. “Honey had a pink fluffy scarf around her neck when she fought with Hilroy, it must have stuck to the blood she drew when she whacked him in the face with the stamper. She doesn’t look like much, but she’s pretty strong.”
Hobbs barked a laugh and rubbed his bruised head. “I can attest to that. But what about those beads I saw in his jacket pocket, Stiles? Was I imagining them or did they really exist?”
I’d forgotten all about those…
Stiles nodded his head. “They existed all right. Hilroy had them on him, for sure. Our best guess is the kids from the elementary school…they were leaving them attached to little notes on everyone’s sideview mirrors, inviting people to their Christmas concert. When we found Hilroy’s car, still parked at the inn, we found a crumpled piece of paper with the elementary school invitation on the passenger seat. He must have stuffed the beads in the pocket of his jacket.”
I hated this. Hated that Walter had to sell the store and move because he couldn’t handle it on his own. Hated the fact that Honey was a murderer. “I want to feel better about the fact that there isn’t a killer running around loose in Marshmallow Hollow anymore, but I sure wish it wasn’t Honey.”
Stiles let out a long sigh. “Me, too, Kitten.”
Letting my head fall back on the couch, I looked at the tree and let the beauty of it wash over me, scrunching my eyes shut so I wouldn’t cry again.
Stiles slid closer to me on the couch. “Anyway, I have to go, now that I know you two patients are on the mend. I’ve got a busy day tomorrow with lots of paperwork.” He chucked me under the chin. “Don�
��t be so glum, chum. Guess what I brought you?”
I sat up and set my wine glass down. “Oooo, what? Chocolate? A throw pillow? Wait. If you brought me fruitcake, I’m going to clunk you in the head with it, Stiles,” I joked.
He laughed as he walked to the hall closet and yanked it open, pulling something from his coat pocket. “It’s not fruitcake. It’s the new Savannah Temple!” He pulled out the book and waved it in front of me as though it were diamonds. “The Demon Billionaire Necromancer’s Bride, hot off the presses, and I’m going to let you read it first. Ta-da!”
I snorted at his supposed sacrifice. “It might as well be fruitcake. Blick. You know I don’t like Savannah Temple. She’s so dark and gloomy and everything is about how awful life is and how hard it is to merely breathe. Ugh. Not my thing. I need a laugh in between all that doomsday. Hard pass.”
Stiles frowned as he pulled on his jacket. “Well, she does write Gothic paranormal romances. It’s a dark genre. Dark genre is dark, Miss Sunshine. But you’re right. I was so busy trying to find something to cheer you up, I can’t believe I forgot you don’t like her stuff.”
I handed the glossy book with an overly muscled, super-tan hunk on the cover back to him and smiled. “But thanks anyway. I love you. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Bye, Crime Fighters,” he said, tucking the book in his jacket and heading toward the front door with a wave.
This time, after Stiles left, it wasn’t so awkward. It was nice. Rosemary Clooney’s Christmas album played, we had wine, and I was in the company of a man I was growing to like more and more.
For the moment, all the world was at peace. Atti sat on my shoulder, napping, Stephen King was curled up between us, and Phil was on the back of the couch, avoiding my touch at all costs.
“You know, you saved my hide at Honey’s,” I said quietly. “I’m grateful.”
He shrugged and smiled at me. “You saved mine, too. I don’t know how you got Bowser off my leg. I don’t even remember it. How did you get Bowser off my leg, anyway?”
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