Mayhem in Christmas River: A Christmas Cozy Mystery (Christmas River Cozy, Book 2) (11 page)

When I had poured the filling into the prepared crusts, I heard the front door open and the familiar sound of Chrissy’s Converse shoes shuffling across the dining room floor.

“I can’t believe how hot it is in here,” she growled, walking into the kitchen and hanging her bag up on the coat rack in the corner.

She was wearing heavy eyeliner and had her long dark hair tied up into a ponytail. She was wearing her usual summer uniform of a plaid shirt, long shorts, and a lip ring.

“You can say that again,” I said.

She pulled down one of the
Cinnamon’s Pies
cowgirl aprons from the rack. 

“Can’t you get that damn air conditioner fixed already?”

It was an unusual outburst from her.

Chrissy was a steady, unemotional person most of the time. I don’t think I’d ever heard a single cross word from her.

I wondered what was wrong.

“I’m working on it, Chrissy,” I said. “In the meantime, I’m sorry that we have to work in this heat. I don’t like it any more than you do.”

She let out a long sigh and angrily tied the apron around her small waist.

“This is unbearable, Ms. Peters,” she said.

“I know. And if you need to take the day off, go ahead and do it,” I said. “I won’t dock your pay. I know that these conditions aren’t ideal.”

I went about making another round of pies for the second oven. This time, a few Cinnamon Blueberry and Mountain Cherry pies. In the background, Van was singing about redwood trees. I tried to focus on that, and not on Chrissy’s tantrum. 

I’d been on enough of an emotional roller coaster in the past 48 hours. I didn’t have the energy to take on whatever she was going through too. 

She let out another long sigh. 

“I’m sorry,” she said, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand. “I’m going through some personal stuff. I’m acting like a brat. Just ignore me.”

She grabbed some ingredients from the cupboard and started on a batch of dough.

“Anything I can help with?” I asked.

“I’m just having some problems with Carson,” she said.

I saw a flash of sadness in her eyes.

“It’s not a big deal,” she said, shrugging.

But I could tell by the tone of her voice that it was a big deal.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” I said. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No, not really,” she said. “It’s just, he’s been acting weird lately. I’m worried that… that he might be stepping out on me.”

She said it quickly, like it would somehow hurt less.

“Jeez, I’m so sorry, Chrissy,” I said, placing my hand on her shoulder.

She stood stiff.

“It’s really not a big deal,” she said. “I’d rather not talk about it.”

I peered into her face. Her eyes were welling-up with tears.

She reminded me so much of myself at that age. We tried so desperately to convince the world we were tough with our piercings and dyed hair. But it was all just a distraction so nobody could see how sensitive we really were.

I really hoped Carson wasn’t cheating on her.

She didn’t need to go through any of that.

I thought back to all those nights I spent at home after I found out that Evan was cheating on me. Those nights spent mindlessly watching the TV, gorging myself on ice cream and downing wine like there was no tomorrow. Because that’s how it had felt then. Like there was no tomorrow, and if there was one, it wasn’t worth living.

Things had changed a lot for me since those days.

“I’ll be okay,” she finally said. 

“If you feel like talking, my door’s always open,” I said, patting her back.

She nodded.

“I know,” she said. “Thanks.”

Just then, I heard a rapping at the front door. We weren’t open for another hour, so it was still locked. 

“Is anybody in there?” I heard a muffled voice say.

I wiped my hands on my apron and went out through the dividing door to the dining room.

A large man in a gray jumpsuit with a clipboard and a tool box was outside.

“Well, look at that,” I mumbled as I opened the door.

Maybe a little air conditioning would go a long ways to help cool everybody down.

Chapter 25

I read through the Christmas River in July Play script while I waited for the last round of pies to finish up baking. A stream of sweat trickled down the side of my face.

True to what I had initially thought, the air conditioner repair men were as useless as a bag of hammers. After half an hour of tinkering around, they had informed me that the unit was busted and way past redemption. I would have to buy a new one if I wanted to survive the remainder of this heat wave.

So not only did I have the heat to contend with, I also had this torturous script to read and memorize.

Sarah had really outdone herself this year.

The more I read through it, the more I hated all the characters in it. Even Santa was unlikable. And you know that when you make a fat man who brings toys to underprivileged children unlikeable, there’s no hope for any of the other characters.

But I had to get through memorizing my lines. The play was in less than three days, and even though I was playing the part of Mrs. Claus for reasons other than wanting to show off my acting abilities, I didn’t want to do a total face plant.

“Hey Cinnamon? Can you come out here?” Chrissy’s voice echoed from the dining room.

I got up off the barstool and went through the doors to the front.

I had a visitor.

“I’ve heard so much about your pies, I just couldn’t resist stopping by and trying a slice.”

Stephanie Calder stood there, a pair of large, movie star-style glasses propped atop her flowing mane of red hair. She was wearing a tightfitting t-shirt with a long necklace, and even in such casual attire, she looked striking.

Sheriff Trumbow, who was sitting in a corner booth digging into his usual fattening pecan pie, couldn’t seem to pull his eyes away from her. He had a dazed, smitten look on his face that kind of made my skin crawl.

“Oh,” I croaked. “Well that was nice of you.”

I wiped away a stream of sweat that was running down my temple. It seemed like every time I saw her, I just so happened to be a sweaty mess.

I suddenly noticed the impatient line of people standing behind her, so I signaled her to follow me over to the side of the pastry case.

“It looks like business is pretty good,” she said.

“Yeah,” I said. “It can get busy in here sometimes.”

I wiped my sweaty palms on my apron.

“So,” I said, clearing my throat. “What can I offer you?”

“What would you recommend?” she asked.

“The Moundful Marionberry pie’s always a winner this time of year,” I said. “The Marionberry is a specialty of Oregon. It only grows here.”

Internally, I was shaking my head at my poor attempts at small talk.  

“Sounds great,” she said. “I’ll take it.”

I reached under the heated pastry case for the pie tin. I placed a big slice on a plate along with a small scoop of vanilla ice cream. Then I handed it to her.

“Yum, yum,” she said. 

She smiled nervously, and I realized that she was here for more than just the pie.

“Listen, I hope you didn’t get the wrong impression the other day,” she said, lowering her voice slightly. “I mean, I know it looked like… but that’s not what it was. Not at all.”

“I know,” I said. “Daniel told me that you’re in town looking for someone.”

“Yeah,” she said. “Dan’s been a real big help so far. He’s a really good guy.”

I dug my hands into the pockets of my apron.

“He is,” I said.

“I’m glad to see him looking so happy these days,” she said. “I’m sure you have a lot to do with that.”

“Well, that’s nice of you to say,” I said.

I suddenly remembered what Daniel had said the night before about us going out to dinner.

Maybe I could iron all this out myself.

“Listen,” I said. “How about I cook us all up dinner tonight? Pastry’s really my thing, but I make a mean steak. You guys can catch up, and I can hear about what Daniel was like in his 20s.”

She smiled, the corners of her eyes wrinkling slightly.

“I’d absolutely love that.”

Chapter 26

“He’s really good at his job, you know,” Kara said from behind a pair of dark sunglasses. “He really made me feel like they’re going to catch this bastard.”

Soft flute music floated through the air. The pedicurist placed Kara’s left foot down on the edge of the foot bath and started scrubbing the heel of her other one.

Kara sighed and pressed a button on the chair control. The seat’s leather back started vibrating.

I sat next to her in another pedicure chair, my legs crossed. I’d never been the pedicure-type. I’d never get used to strangers massaging and scrubbing my feet. Plus, being stuck in a room that smelled heavy with brain-killing chemicals for half an hour wasn’t exactly my cup of tea. 

But I wanted to take Kara out for a relaxing afternoon. And being the high-maintenance gal that she was, there was nothing she loved more than a good pedicure at her favorite spa downtown. 

“Daniel will make a great sheriff,” she said. “He’s very competent.”

I nodded in agreement and flipped through an issue of People Magazine.

“Did he tell you who he thought might have done that to your shop?” I asked.

“You mean who he thought was behind the white beard and red suit?”

“Yeah,” I said.

“No. He just had a lot of questions. Like if I knew anybody who would have done this. An ex-boyfriend or something.”

“Do you think one of them could have set the fire?” I asked.

She shook her head.

“I haven’t hurt anyone that badly. And anyway, why now? I’ve been on-again and off-again with John for a long while. If an ex had a grudge, why wait all this time?”

I didn’t say anything, but I could have thought of a few guys from Kara’s past who might have still had hurt feelings. Before John, she’d dated a lot. And most of the time, she’d been the one to end things.

But burning down her shop over a little hurt pride seemed pretty extreme.

“Well what about someone else. Other people you might have crossed paths with. Someone from the play?”

I searched her face, but couldn’t read anything. The glasses concealed her expressions too well.

“No way,” she said. “I mean, it makes sense with the whole Santa arsonist thing, but those people are harmless. I mean everyone but Sarah, who I’m sure by now you’ve found to be a complete wench.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Thanks so much for the heads up about her.”

“I may have forgotten to mention it,” she said.

She stared down at the electric bug-green color that the pedicurist was applying to her toes.

“It’s probably just some nut in town for the Christmas River in July festivities,” she said. “And he probably burned the ornament shop as some sort of twisted statement.”

“Maybe so,” I said. “Just bad luck it happened to be your shop.”

We sat in silence for a few minutes. I flipped through the magazine, not recognizing half the names of the celebrities they were gossiping about.

“Well, John and I are back together,” she said. “In case you hadn’t made that brilliant deduction on your own.”

“Yeah,” I said. “I kind of figured that. That’s really great, Kara.”

“He’s promised to make us more of a priority,” she said. “And not to just drop everything anytime his mom calls.”

“I’m really happy for you two.”

She shrugged.

“Well, we’ll see if he really means it this time,” she said. “But at least something good came out of all of this.”

I jumped up in my chair.

The ear-shattering sound of a fire engine suddenly rang out.

A second later, a red truck zipped past the windows of the spa, wailing as it flew by.

Some of the spa staff wandered over to the window to get a better look at what was causing the commotion. 

Kara and I both looked at each other.

I could tell she was thinking the same thing that I was.  

The bastard had struck again.

Chapter 27

I drove over to Daniel’s house with Huckleberry later that night after the play rehearsal. 

After what had happened earlier that day, I figured that we should push Stephanie’s dinner to tomorrow night instead.

The fire engines had been racing toward Valley Corson’s floral shop on Butler Street a couple of blocks away from my pie shop. Someone reported seeing smoke and flames coming out of the shop window. The fire crews got there as quick as they could, but with the heat wave, they had trouble putting it out. The fire practically destroyed the small hole-in-the-wall shop in a matter of minutes.

When I heard that it was Valley Corson’s shop that caught fire, I didn’t need anyone to tell me that Santa had struck again.

Because when Valley Corson wasn’t arranging bouquets, she was playing the part of Nicholas Claus’s sister, Brandy Claus, in the Christmas River in July Play.

I was convinced now that it wasn’t just a coincidence.

Santa was after the actors in the play.

I drove up to Daniel’s, parking in the driveway of his cozy, cabin-esque house. I got out and Huckleberry jumped down in front of me, trotting up to the porch. He wagged his nub and looked back at me anxiously, waiting for me to open the door.

Like me, Huckleberry had been missing Daniel all day.

This was Daniel’s childhood home, and before we’d gotten into a fight over him wanting to get married, I’d been planning on helping him renovate and redecorate it. It was an old house with nice bones, but years of wear and tear had taken their toll. It was worn and tired looking, but that didn’t make me like it any less. Maybe it was because since my youth, I’d associated this house with Daniel and those feelings of first love. There was something special about it. Something nostalgic that made me feel like it was part of my own history, as well as his.

I knocked, rapping two times quick and two times slow, the way I always did when I came over.