Curse Me Under the Mistletoe

by Kennedy Layne

  “It’s a good thing we have people to save and justice to serve.” Knox winked at me before he entered the back room. “So, what do we have?”

  That wolfman is a flirtatious one, isn’t he?

  “I’m going to tell Piper that she needs to knit you booties for all four paws,” I threatened, joining the others to see what it was we could have missed in those emails.

  I do so love a challenge, dear hexed one.

  “We have nothing,” Orwin replied from the desk chair of Norma’s desk. Vanessa, and now Knox, stood behind him. The back room was used for inventory, but Norma had cleared a corner spot for her desk and file cabinet. “There’s nothing here.”

  “I really thought we’d find something,” Vanessa said, desperation in her tone. She looked at Knox when asking her next question, but she was basically doubting our abilities. “Are you sure that Gracie Lynn is innocent?”

  “Yes,” I replied, having full confidence in Orwin’s abilities. “All roads are leading us toward the Wilkes, but the entire misunderstanding that Edgar and Roger spoke about has that theory up in the air.”

  Although I have declared the compassionate couple innocent, that does not mean Mr. and Mrs. Wilkes aren’t privy to some information that could help us. Perhaps it’s time for our alien hunter to pay them a visit. I’ll supervise, of course.

  I’m sure that Pearl would travel along with Orwin for another chance at a spot of warm cream heated to perfection, and that might need to be the route we took this afternoon. Orwin and Pearl could use a cover story where an owner had lost his cat, though the Wilkes would most likely see through that façade, given that he wasn’t local. Throw in a veterinarian’s office and an emergency visit from a man traveling with his cat, and such a tale could be convincing with the right amount of urgency.

  I admire your creativity, dear hexed one.

  “Wait a second.”

  Orwin leaned forward on the desk chair far enough that there was a good chance it could wheel right out from under him. He pushed his black-rimmed glasses up as he studied the screen in front of him. I glanced at Knox, hoping for some sign that would explain what had caught Orwin’s attention, but all Knox did was shrug in bewilderment.

  “Do you see that date?” Orwin asked Vanessa, pointing to somewhere on the screen. “I’ve gone over your aunt and uncle’s calendar the week before the murder multiple times. Norma couldn’t have sent this email to Mrs. Wilkes about reneging on their verbal agreement. She wasn’t in the shop that afternoon.”

  Speaking of admiration, I suppose some should be given to the alien hunter for his technological abilities.

  “Why should that make a difference?” Knox asked, frowning at such an announcement. “I send emails from my phone all the time, so it shouldn’t matter that Norma Booneville wasn’t here that day.”

  The wolfman makes a good point, alien hunter.

  “It does if Aunt Norma was somewhere that couldn’t get phone reception,” Vanessa replied in disbelief, lifting a hand to her mouth. “Uncle Edgar and Aunt Norma had gone to one of the ski lodges. I know for a fact that the cabin they stay in doesn’t get service, and they like it that way. No Wi-Fi, either. They reserve that overnight every year to get away. It was a tradition started many years ago by my aunt, because scheduling something like that was the only way to guarantee my uncle wouldn’t cancel. He loved his work.”

  “This was the misunderstanding,” Orwin said, his dark gaze traveling up to meet mine. “Someone didn’t want Debbie to become a partner. Whoever sent this email is the murderer.”

  We are one step closer to solving this murder mystery, and for once that app of my sweet Piper’s cannot claim victory. Zero for technology, one for the human race. I sense a spot of warm cream curled up inside our traveling home in our near future.

  “Wait,” I exclaimed, trying to make sense of things. “Wouldn’t Norma have seen the email exchange? Didn’t Debbie reply with her resignation?”

  “Mrs. Wilkes didn’t hit reply,” Orwin explained, gesturing toward the monitor once more. “She attached her resignation letter to a new email. Let me check something else.”

  Orwin’s fingers moved over the keyboard at a rapid rate.

  “Just as I thought,” Orwin exclaimed in victory. “The email sent from Norma was deleted from the sent folder.”

  “Which only moved it into the trash file, but it was never emptied,” Vanessa whispered as she tried to make sense of things.

  “Going with this theory, it stands to reason that whoever sent this email found out that Mr. Booneville and Mr. Wilkes had figured out there had been a miscommunication,” Orwin said, standing up from the chair in excitement. “The two men were having a meal when Gracie Lynn confronted Mr. Booneville.”

  It was that waitress. I told you that she was a horrible person. A la Guillotine!

  “No.” I’d seen firsthand how gossip traveled in small towns. As for Pearl, her mercilessness was getting out of control. “That type of confrontation would have been the news of the day, and the person who sent the email would have had access to this very computer.”

  True, and that waitress couldn’t even work a microwave.

  “Unless whoever killed Uncle Edgar had access to their house,” Vanessa pointed out, but we all agreed that wasn’t a likely scenario. “Who would—”

  Knox’s shoulders tensed as his golden gaze focused on the doorway. A quick look revealed that no one was there, but I trusted Knox with my life. I was the closest, so I quickly made my way through the doorframe.

  Be careful, dear hexed one!

  I quickly scanned the faces of those who were shopping inside the store, noticing that Piper was standing near the door with an alarmed expression on her face. The five other patrons had turned to see why someone was running for the exit, which just so happened to be behind Piper. Everyone who filed out of the back room behind me gave a collective gasp as to the identity of the guilty party.

  Julie Kirkham.

  And she was a mere two steps away from Piper, who was holding onto a couple of pattern books with three balls of yarn. It was clear that she’d hastily made the connection at seeing the panic written across the older woman’s face. There was only one thing to do, and that was to stop Julie from shoving Piper to the ground in her bid to flee.

  I lifted a hand, promptly causing the pattern books and yarn in Piper’s hands to fly into Julie’s face. The split second she put her hands up and leaned back to protect herself, I used my ability to swipe Julie’s feet out from underneath her.

  Nicely done, dear hexed one. No one is the wiser as to how Mrs. Kirkham tripped, but I do have to wonder if my sweet Piper is rubbing off on you. I’m not so sure I would have cushioned a murderer’s fall with those three balls of yarn.

  “Nice work,” Knox murmured as he passed by me to make sure that Julie didn’t try to make another run for it. “Orwin, would you please call those detectives?”

  Orwin was already dialing 911. Piper had gone to reassure the other patrons that things were under control, and I could hear Vanessa saying her aunt’s name into her cell phone. There were some lose ends to tie up, but we’d managed to bring a killer to justice.

  Did you ever doubt us, dear hexed one?

  “I’m the one who keeps this place together,” Julie cried out in protest after Knox told her that she wasn’t going anywhere until the police arrived. “Debbie didn’t deserve to be partner. I did!”

  Julie seemed to have realized that she’d implicated herself while in a panic, and she tried her best to backpedal her confession. Knox just crossed his arms, letting her know that nothing she did or said was going to get him to let her pass.

  “You can’t prove a thing,” Julie exclaimed in alarm, turning around to face Vanessa. “Not a thing!”

  “I do believe that purchasing mistletoe oil in bulk on the internet is sufficient evidence to tie you to Mr. Booneville’s murder, Mrs. Kirkham,” Orwin announced, holding up his phone. It appeared that he
’d been able to access her bank account in record time. “Did you believe that both of the Boonevilles would drink the hot chocolate? Did you want to eliminate both of them?”

  Julie began to sob, although we were able to make out that she hadn’t wanted to kill anyone. She’d just wanted the Boonevilles to become sick long enough to give her time to figure a way out of the mess she’d gotten herself into.

  This is why I always stress to my sweet Piper that the truth will always prevail.

  “Good work, Orwin,” I said after he’d finished talking with the 911 operator. The police were on their way, and it wouldn’t be long before we were able to leave town and drive back to the campsite. “I’m not sure Julie would have been caught had you not made the connection to the date on the emails.”

  “This just earned me a trip to Area 51, right?” Orwin asked, pushing up his glasses as he flashed me a smile. “I’ve decided to send Pearl inside so that she can bring me out evidence that the site is used to secure captured alien lifeforms.”

  This is the first I’m hearing about this. I do believe that you need my agreement on such an endeavor, alien hunter.

  The two continued to banter back and forth about Area 51, giving me time to go back over the last few days, particularly my conversation with a certain individual in a red suit. The others seemed convinced that Kris Kringle, St. Nicholas, or whatever you wanted to call Santa Claus might very well be real. I realized that bargaining never got me anywhere, but I wasn’t so sure I could believe in his existence until I’d witnessed the miracle he’d talked about firsthand.

  You do understand that’s not how it works, dear hexed one.

  “Yeah, yeah,” I muttered, sticking to my stubborn ways, anyway. “Knock-knock.”

  I see you’re turning the tables on me, Miss Lilura. Okay, I’ll play. Who’s there?

  “Coal.”

  Orwin muttered something about being stuck with dimwits, but he’d done so in an affectionate manner.

  Coal who?

  “Coal me if you find the real Santa.”

  I did manage to get a chuckle out of Orwin as he walked over to explain to Piper how we’d figured out who murdered Edgar Booneville, as well as to remind her that a stop at the post office was next up on our agenda. Sugar cookies had been sent by her father, and Orwin wasn’t one to pass up homemade baked goods. Knox was still standing guard, and Vanessa was still deep in conversation with her aunt on the phone. As for me? Well, I felt pretty good having come up with that knock-knock joke all on my own. Maybe I was making progress in that silver lining department, after all.

  You have a long way to go. That wasn’t funny in the least, dear hexed one.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Christmas Eve had arrived with another blanket of snow. I’d had another premonition not an hour out from Covered Bridge, though that murder mystery had been relatively easy to solve. Pearl had told Orwin of my wish to spend the holiday in a remote full-service cabin that could host all of us comfortably, even though I’d prompted all of them to take these few days to go and spend it with family.

  We are already among family, dear hexed one.

  I wasn’t going to deny that I was grateful for a reprieve. We never knew when I’d receive a premonition, so this small time we’d been able to carve out was special.

  Maybe a miracle?

  Piper and Orwin were putting the finishing touches on the Christmas tree that Knox had managed to procure for us, bickering about how much space to leave between the strings of popcorn.

  “I wouldn’t go that far,” I said wryly, wiping my hands on a dishtowel. Pearl and I had made a pan of lasagna for dinner. Technically, Pearl was just overseeing the only meal I really knew how to make from scratch. “But I’ll take these rare moments of peace any way I can get them.”

  It certainly wasn’t a waste. You now know how to make polenta.

  “It wasn’t easy,” I reminded her, rotating my wrist before reaching for my glass of eggnog. The only thing left for us to do was set the table, but dinner wouldn’t be ready for another thirty minutes. I’d put Pearl’s special dish in the bottom drawer of the oven to keep warm, which meant we had time to relax by the fire. “And when have you ever fancied Italian?”

  I’m a familiar with many eclectic tastes, Miss Lilura.

  We’d been playing Christmas music all evening, even joining in on the lyrics we knew by heart. Piper started singing along now, even grabbing one of her knitting needles to use as a microphone. She’d basically knitted nonstop since we’d left Covered Bridge, pulling up YouTube videos when she wasn’t quite sure about a specific stitch. I had no doubt that the wrapped presents she’d lugged in from the RV were all knitted apparel.

  I’d gone out earlier today to buy a few presents of my own to give out to the group, hoping that each personalized gift denoted how much I appreciated their friendship. I’d even bought something special for Pearl, but I’d been doing my best not to think about it in hopes to keep it a secret until tomorrow morning.

  You’re doing a spectacular job of it, too, though I highly doubt you can hold out until morning. No worries, dear hexed one. I have more than enough patience for us both.

  There was a muffled thud that came from the front door, though Piper and Orwin couldn’t hear it over the music. I’d curled up on the couch, with Pearl doing the same on the armrest, but neither of us moved from our comfortable positions. Knox was expected to return from his run any moment.

  After another minute passed, Pearl and I exchanged curious and concerned glances.

  Fine. Seeing as I’m more equipped to go outside, I’ll go check on our resident werewolf.

  I smiled my appreciation, really not wanting to move off the couch. The eggnog Orwin had made was delicious, the roaring fire had set a cozy mood, and all I wanted to do was enjoy the peace that would surely be shattered in a day or two.

  It’s rather odd, Miss Lilura, but there’s no sign of the wolfman’s return anywhere.

  “Maybe it was just some snow falling off the roof,” I surmised, knowing full well we were far from civilization. I also hadn’t felt Ammeline’s presence since the day we solved Edgar Booneville’s murder, so I wasn’t worried that the Lich Queen had snuck up on us. “The winds are picking up out there.”

  That doesn’t explain the large boot prints in front of the door, nor why there are no receding tracks other than what is under the dusting of snow we’ve received since Mr. Emeric went for his nightly run.

  “Maybe they are Knox’s boot prints, and the fresh snow just didn’t reach the area underneath the overhang,” I proposed, already knowing from Pearl’s narrowed green eyes that I was going to have to unravel myself from the couch. “Fine, I’ll go have a look.”

  I was wearing fuzzy socks that I’d bought while on my shopping spree, a little gift to me for the holidays. In order for them not to get wet, I made sure to stand just inside the doorframe after I’d swung open the front door. Sure enough, there were two boot prints facing the door.

  How do you suppose they got there, dear hexed one?

  I continued to hold my eggnog while scanning the area that the porch light could reach. Beyond that was darkness. The flurries had now turned to big, fat snowflakes that added to the inches already on the ground. I followed their path, noticing that they were just now covering the fresh boot prints in front of me. Before I could call out to Orwin and Piper to come take a look and give me their opinion, I heard rustling coming from the tree line.

  “Everything okay?” Knox called out, emerging from the darkness. He hadn’t bothered to wear a jacket. He must have tucked his clothes somewhere safe to remain dry, though his black hair was a bit wet from his run. “Why are you standing there in the cold?”

  “Pearl and I thought we heard something,” I replied, looking back down so that I could show Knox what we’d discovered, only the prints had now been filled with fresh snow. Impossible. “Knox, there were two boot prints here. I swear.”

  I met Kno
x’s gaze, so richly gold in color, only to find him flashing me that crooked smile of his. His gaze went above my head, so I instinctively followed his amusing stare.

  Is that…mistletoe?

  “All you had to do was ask, Lou.”

  By the time my brain registered that I was standing underneath mistletoe, Knox had taken a step forward. His warm hand cradled my face as he leaned down, his soft lips pressing against mine.

  Time stood still.

  When Knox finally pulled away, I heard…

  Ringing bells and a rich ho-ho-ho that faded into the night sky.

  I do believe St. Nicholas kept his word on giving you an early Christmas present, Miss Lilura. We know that magic is real, so it stands to reason that so are miracles. Merry Christmas, dear hexed one.

  ~ The End ~

  It’s a bait and switch whodunit in the next installment of the Hex on Me Mysteries by USA Today Bestselling Author Kennedy Layne…

  Click HERE

  Creating beautiful snow angels, cross-country skiing for miles, and riding toboggans over snowy hills are all exciting outdoor activities to do in the winter months. When Lou’s latest premonition of murder takes her and the gang to an isolated ice fishing shack in the middle of a lake in the upper peninsula of Michigan, it looks as if they’re about to go fishing for a murderer.

  You’ll want to bring along a seat warmer and an ice fishing pole for this mystery if you want to help Lou and the gang hook a whale of a killer!

  Books by Kennedy Layne

  Hex on Me Mysteries

  If the Curse Fits

  Cursing up the Wrong Tree

  The Squeaky Ghost Gets the Curse

  The Curse that Bites

  Curse Me Under the Mistletoe

  Paramour Bay Mysteries

  Magical Blend

  Bewitching Blend

  Enchanting Blend

  Haunting Blend

  Charming Blend