Candy Slain Read online

  Humphrey gathered his things, grumbled, and trudged out of the restaurant. He glared back at Lincoln before he left. Lincoln made a rude but pointed gesture. Humphrey exited.

  Miss May helped Teeny down from the chair. Teeny addressed Lincoln. “You. Lincoln the Elf. I’m sorry that this happened. In my restaurant. Please take a seat. Enjoy your free meal, on me.”

  “That’s the least you can do.” Lincoln sat down. “I like blueberry pancakes.”

  I took a step forward. “Teeny has the best blueberry pancakes in Pine Grove.”

  Miss May nodded. “She’s got the best blueberry pancakes in the world.”

  Lincoln licked his lips and nodded. I watched as he adjusted his silverware and took a sip of water. The elf looked upset, sure. But he also looked a little sinister.

  And we all knew better than to trust a newcomer to our small town. Especially after a murder.

  9

  Santa’s Slay

  As soon as Miss May and I jumped back in the big yellow VW bus, I began peppering my aunt with questions about Lincoln.

  Had Miss May seen him before?

  Did she think he was suspicious, not delicious?

  Did she believe his story about working with Orville?

  I didn’t give Miss May any time to answer between questions. I wish I had because before she responded to any of my inquiries, her phone rang. It was KP, letting her know that there was already a line of customers waiting to buy Christmas trees at the farm.

  “It’s 8:30 AM. We’re not even open yet.” Miss May increased the speed of her driving from 30 to 40 mph. Still five miles per hour below the speed limit, by the way.

  “I don’t know what to tell you, May,” KP’s voice growled over the phone. “The people have spoken. And the words they have spoken consist mainly of ‘want, tree, and now.’”

  “We’re two minutes away,” I said. “Then we’ll open the farm and start giving the people what they want.”

  “OK. I’ll be sitting in my cabin in my fuzzy little slippers until you get here,” KP said. “I don’t get paid enough to do crowd control for a bunch of Christmas fiends.”

  Miss May chuckled. “I heard you’re Pine Grove’s newest Santa, by the way.”

  KP groaned. “What an insult. I’m not nearly rotund enough for that job. I’m still at my fighting weight.”

  Miss May laughed. “The only thing you’ve ever fought is the impulse to eat another donut. And you’ve got a losing record.”

  KP grumbled and hung up the phone. Miss May and I chuckled to ourselves for a good ten seconds. KP was technically the farmhand at my aunt’s orchard, The Thomas Family Fruit and Fir Farm. But in practice, KP was much more than just hired help. He was a business partner, a father figure, and an all-around helpful guy. He also tended to the farm’s resident tiny horse, See-Saw. See-Saw and KP were practically joined at the hip, and I couldn’t help but giggle even more when I conjured an image of KP dressed as Santa and See-Saw dressed as one of his reindeer, a pair of bulky antlers balanced on her little head like Max, the Grinch’s dog.

  Miss May smiled. The farm had been busy every day, every minute, for at least a week. This time of year, the Thomas Family Fruit and Fir Farm was flooded with customers looking to buy a Christmas tree. Miss May spent her days behind the cash register in the bakeshop. She sent me out into the orchard to help lost customers or to guide people to the perfect tree. We were swamped, which was a good thing for business. But it also meant we didn’t have time to really discuss the case until it got dark around 4:30 PM and everyone started to file out, cheeks pink from the cold and big smiles on their faces as they toted their trees.

  That day seemed to be the busiest yet. By closing time, my bones ached with exhaustion and my voice was strained from explaining the many differences between a Douglas fir and a Fraser fir. Sometimes, I could be a know-it-all about my trees. Among other things. But I won’t go into that now…

  OK, OK. In case you’re wondering, a Fraser fir has a strong fragrance and sturdy branches, perfect for hanging heavy ornaments. But I personally preferred the Douglas fir, a statement tree with a classic evergreen scent and blue to dark green needles. Either tree promised warm Christmas vibes, as I told all of my customers.

  Body tired and brain buzzing with tree facts, I entered the bakeshop at dusk to help Miss May clean up. But to my surprise, the bakeshop was already spotless.

  Miss May was always great about cleaning while she worked. And not only had she cleaned, she’d also prepped a little snack. A small table in the center of our dining area had been set with two big cups of hot cocoa and a plateful of fresh apple cider donuts.

  Miss May smiled as I entered.

  “What’s this?”

  “Every detective needs a snack after a long day of work in the field.” Miss May gestured at the table. “Take a seat.”

  “So you’ve been doing some thinking, I take it.”

  Miss May nudged my mug of hot chocolate toward me. “You had a lot of questions in the car. I wanted to have answers ready for when you showed up.”

  I took a sip of cocoa and wiped the cream off my lip. “So?”

  “Well, Humphrey’s alibi checks out. We saw him standing there outside the restaurant.”

  “Standing and eating, you mean.”

  Miss May put her finger on her nose. “Exactly. But that elf was suspicious.”

  “I don’t know if we should refer to him as an elf. That’s just his job.”

  “Let’s call him Lincoln,” Miss May said. “No one I know saw him at the tree-lighting ceremony. I certainly didn’t. But that doesn’t mean he wasn’t there.”

  “True. Although I’m going to assume he wasn’t there. The guy is little but distinct. He’d be hard to miss. I mean, you can see that beard of his from a mile away. If he’d shown up at the ceremony, the whole town would be talking about it.”

  Miss May nodded. “The whole town would be suspicious of him, you mean.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “But Orville was new in town, too. He’d only been here a couple of weeks before he was murdered. Who else even know him well enough to murder him?”

  Miss May shrugged. “The guy was private. That’s for sure. But I’m not sure that our list of suspects has changed much since we last spoke about this.”

  I leaned forward. “Are you still considering the mayor?”

  Miss May nodded. “I’ve never wanted to think that Linda Delgado is capable of murder. But she hired Orville. Turned out it was not the most intelligent hire, considering the difficulty she had with him.”

  I took a bite of donut. “So we need to talk to the mayor. Again.”

  “At the very least, she’ll have information,” Miss May said. “Or she’ll have his resume from his last job, something.” She paused and watched me eat. “You should dip the donuts in the hot cocoa, by the way. Everyone knows that.”

  “I take a bite then I sip the hot cocoa. I call it the reverse dip,” I smiled. Then I took a bite of donut and sipped my hot cocoa. I spoke with my mouth full. “Yum.”

  “That is an atrocity and a personal insult to the baker,” Miss May said, in faux horror.

  “I’m pretty sure I baked this batch,” I countered.

  Miss May smirked. Then there was a soft knock on the door to the bakeshop. “We’re closed,” I called out, my mouth still full of donut and cocoa.

  Miss May rose with a laugh. “Chelsea. We’re always open during Christmas. We may not technically be open. But that means we can give away some donuts for free. My favorite part of the job.”

  Miss May opened the door to the bakeshop. There stood Germany Turtle.

  10

  My True Love Gave to Me

  My heart did a little ballerina twirl at the site of Germany’s cute, distinguished face. Germany was an odd guy. Quirky. Unique. Some might say, straight-up bizarre. But I liked him.

  Sadly, I’d met him through one of our previous investigations — his parents were both dead. Germa
ny had stayed in town even after the mystery had been solved. Even though I’d been sort of seeing (or at least dancing with) Detective Wayne Hudson at that time, Germany had developed, um, rather intense romantic feelings for me. Developed wasn’t even quite the right word. More like, Germany had sprouted feelings for me overnight.

  At first, I’d been hesitant to accept Germany’s unusual manner of affection. He was an extremely forthright suitor, a man of many words and even more grand gestures. Although Germany’s verbose and atypical style of communication was an exact foil for Wayne’s strong, stoic manly vibe, I kind of preferred Germany’s word-vomit and earnestness. It was charming and refreshing. I didn’t need to chase after Wayne if Wayne wasn’t ever going to be open about his feelings.

  Germany and I had shared our first kiss only a few weeks earlier. Right in front of Detective Hudson. Germany had given me a puppy named Steve, which was pretty romantic — even if Steve the puppy had eaten all of my favorite slippers. But since then, Germany and I hadn’t really taken any next steps in our relationship. Both of us were a little awkward, so every step was painfully clumsy… But I was still hoping that one of us would at least try to keep things moving forward.

  “Germany. Hello. Come on in,” Miss May said. “I was just heading out to the orchard to finish up some business with KP.”

  Germany bowed at the waist, which would have been weird for anyone else but was totally normal for Germany Turtle. “Miss May. A pleasure, as always, to see you. Your bakeshop and orchard are a wonder to me. Thank you for bringing joy to the people of Pine Grove and reminding us all that small-town charm is alive and very well, indeed.”

  Miss May shook her head and exited, laughing. I knew she didn’t really have business with KP. She just liked to give me time alone to nurture my romantic life. Which was nice, I guess.

  “Hi, Germany,” I said. “Wanna sit?” I gestured at the seat Miss May had just vacated.

  Germany sat. “I just thought I would come by and say hello. I heard about what happened to our new Santa and assumed that meant you were in the throes of yet another investigation. You never say it, but I’m sure being so close to death all the time takes a toll on you. So, I’m here for you, as I always am. If anything is needed, wanted, or required. Here I am. Germany Turtle. At your service.”

  I smiled and thought about how Germany was an old-fashioned man. And I mean way old-fashioned. Not like Wayne, with his Western cowboy vibes. More like, a man from the 13th century. A knight in mismatched denim.

  “Thanks, Germany. I guess it can be a little stressful. We’ve solved a lot of murders so far but each one is so different. They all feel impossible at this stage.”

  Germany nodded. “The stage of exploration. Discovery. The stage where there are far more questions than answers and you’re not even sure if the questions you’re asking are correct.”

  I took a sip of my cocoa. Was it just me, or was Germany kind of talking about the stage of our relationship too?

  “I felt the same way when I was writing my thesis on the lions of Africa. At the very beginning I was lost. But sometimes, being lost is the most rewarding experience. There’s always truth in that aimless wandering, in that process of intellectual discovery. And in some ways, that’s the most exciting stage.” OK, maybe he was just talking about lions. Germany looked down and cleared his throat, “It feels like, I don’t know, falling in love.”

  I smiled. My heart did another little pirouette.

  Germany motioned toward the pile of donuts. “May I?”

  I nudged the plate toward him. Germany took a bite and slumped over like he had been shot. “My, my, my. Truly divine is the touch of a gifted baker.”

  I giggled. “You are so corny sometimes.”

  “Corn is delicious in baked goods.” Germany smirked.

  We sat there in quiet for a moment. It was one of the few quiet moments I had shared with Germany and perhaps one of my favorites. I had that feeling you get when you can sit with a person in silence and not feel uncomfortable. Not feel the urge to speak. Often, profound moments can arise from that kind of silence.

  “I’ve been thinking about my parents a lot lately,” Germany said. “The Manhattan Turtles.”

  “Do you need to talk about them? I think about them too,” I said. Which was true. The Turtles had not been the friendliest people to arrive in Pine Grove, but they had been people, and Germany’s parents, at that. He must’ve really missed them.

  Germany shook his head. “I’m OK. I spend a good amount of time with an accredited therapist here in town. But I realized during one of these conversations… I remembered that you and I are both orphans. I think that’s a special bond.”

  I lowered my cup of cocoa. “I suppose it is, yes.”

  Germany exhaled. “Do you ever wonder about your parents’ death? About… whether or not it was really an accident?”

  I stammered. Despite working so closely with murder and tragedy as an amateur sleuth, I didn’t often think of the car crash that killed my parents. Sure, I’d learned not too long ago that Miss May had suspected foul play in my parents’ passing. But I’d sort of stuffed that notion down like a stale piece of cake… I didn’t want to think that anyone had intentionally harmed my parents. So Germany’s question caught me off guard. Like a boxer hit with a surprise punch just when he thought he was catching his breath.

  I swallowed to keep my voice from quavering. “I guess I’ve considered it. But I don’t know. Sometimes, accidents just happen.”

  Germany held up his hands. He looked startled by the swell of emotion in my voice. “Of course. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up something that would upset you.”

  I swirled my hot cocoa with my spoon. “It’s OK.” Germany was so unconditionally supportive and understanding, it almost made me suspicious. Like, he was too good to be true. But then again, maybe that was insecure-Chelsea-who-got-left-at-the-altar talking.

  “On a significantly lighter note, we’ll call it a grace note, perhaps… you must tell me what you’d like for Christmas. I want to get you something special because you’re special, more special than every star in the sky, and every undiscovered planet and moon in the universe. And every undiscovered universe in every dimension throughout… you know what, I’m going off-topic. Just tell me what you want for Christmas.”

  I laughed. “Honestly, Germany. I don’t want anything. I mean that. I just want to figure out who killed Orville. I want to solve this mystery.”

  Germany nodded. “I understand.”

  I stood. Germany and I made eye contact. This was the moment, the moment when one or both of us could choose to turn this good-bye into a good-bye kiss.

  But neither of us could make the move. We awkwardly stumbled toward each other, stiffly hugged, and Germany bowed again as he left.

  I sighed.

  Germany Turtle and I were definitely still in the discovery portion of our romantic investigation.

  11

  Mayor, Mayor

  We approached town hall early the next morning. It had been a couple of days since Orville’s murder. The gazebo retained an eerie aura, a deathly afterglow that gave the town’s Christmas décor an unsettling ambiance.

  There was an empty spot in the front of town hall where the Christmas tree should have stood. A reminder of what had happened, and the drama surrounding Orville’s last day on earth. That empty spot haunted me. Just like the Santas at Teeny’s restaurant. So many festive Christmas traditions had transformed into unwelcome reminders that bad things can happen, even during the holidays.

  Miss May and I stopped walking at the entrance to town hall. I shuddered. “I hate that Christmas feels a little creepy this year. And sort of…empty.”

  Miss May shook her head. “Don’t get confused. Christmas isn’t creepy. Something bad happened, sure. But that just makes this an even more important time to celebrate and appreciate the people we love.” Miss May took my hand. “Besides, we’re going to fix this.”
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br />   I nodded and opened the door. Miss May entered town hall and I followed close behind.

  I could hear the sound of phones ringing off the hook in the mayor’s office from all the way down the hall.

  We entered to find a dozen volunteers fielding questions over the phone and talking to townspeople who had gathered near the reception desk. An older volunteer tried to explain to people when the tree lighting ceremony was scheduled to take place.

  A young mother inquired as to whether the tree was going to be real or fake. She had a preference for fake because she suspected her son, Tyler, had an allergy to pine.

  The older volunteer called out across the room to the deputy mayor. “Is the tree lighting canceled this year because of the murder?”

  The room fell silent. A middle-aged man emerged from the mayor’s office. Sweaty, balding, and overworked. He had kind eyes with dark circles beneath them.

  The deputy mayor addressed everyone in the office. “Hold the phones, people. Nothing is canceled. Everything will be occurring as planned. We are figuring out a time for the tree lighting ceremony. Pine Grove is a safe and happy place and will remain such this holiday season.” The deputy mayor took in a sharp, deep breath. “OK. Everybody, get back to work. And I don’t want to hear the ‘m’ word again in this office.”

  The older volunteer raised her hand. The deputy mayor sighed and patiently clarified, “Murder. The ‘m’ word is murder.” The volunteer lowered her hand and turned back to her phone.

  I elbowed Miss May in the side. “Who was that guy?”

  “Deputy Mayor Matt.”

  “Why is he addressing the staff instead of Linda?”

  Miss May shook her head. “That’s what we need to find out.”

  Miss May walked across the room toward the deputy mayor’s office. A volunteer blocked our path. “I’m sorry. Deputy Mayor Matt has a full schedule today. Do have an appointment?”