Mayhem in Christmas River: A Christmas Cozy Mystery (Christmas River Cozy, Book 2) (8 page)

Seeing him hunched over the sink wearing elbow-length dish gloves and a lacy apron never failed to bring a smile to my face. Or Chrissy’s.

“Sorry if I scared you,” he said.

“No, I just completely forgot you were wor—what on earth did you do to your hair?”

He put down the plate he was scrubbing and turned toward me so I could get a better look.

His once chestnut-colored hair was now fashioned into a stylized mini-Mohawk that was dyed a platinum blond. It matched the banana yellow dish gloves he was wearing, and it made his dark eyebrows and olive skin look striking in an unnatural, alien kind of way.

“What do you think?” he asked, bowing his head.

“Well… it’s certainly a change.”

“I know it is,” he said, his eyes lighting up. “That’s why I did it. I thought it would give me more stage presence.”

When Carson wasn’t washing dishes here, he sang and played guitar and tried to scrape together a living by booking gigs at local bars in the area.

But from Chrissy’s descriptions of his music, it was pure country all the way. Willie Nelson and George Strait were his influences, not The Sex Pistols or The Damned.

But the hair did make a statement. I didn’t see too many country singers sporting Mohawks beneath their cowboy hats.

“It’s definitely hard to miss,” I said.

“Chrissy hates it. She thinks it’s too mainstream punk. But I think it’s been a good luck charm so far. I’ve already got a few gigs booked in Portland these next few weeks.”

“Really?” I said. “That’s so great.”

He picked up a plate and started drying it with a piece of cloth.

“We’ll see how it goes,” he said.  

“You know, maybe you can have a set here at the shop one of these days. That way I can tell people that Carson Black played my little ol’ pie shop before he got famous.”

He smiled, and I thought I saw his cheeks grow a little red. Then he shrugged, and went back to drying the stack of dishes.

Between Chrissy’s piercings and dress, and Carson’s hair, I was the largest employer of punk rockers in the county.

And I liked that just fine. They were both great workers, and they allowed me to actually have a life, and to not be completely consumed by my business. 

I was lucky to have them.

I wrapped an apron around my waist, put on some Justin Townes Earle, and spent the remainder of the morning making a batch of my latest tasty experiment, White Peach Mountain Blueberry Pie.

It was a pie I had created with Daniel in mind. I hadn’t let him try it yet, though. It was still a work in progress. The balance of butter, sugar and spice was still off.

Maybe today would be the day I got it right.

I flashed on the image of his arms wrapped around Stephanie, and I shuddered.

I hoped that he’d remember to come by like he said he would.

Chapter 19

A trickle of sweat rolled down the side of my face.

I didn’t know how much more of this heat I could take. The kitchen was a damn inferno worthy of a medieval poet. I was expecting some fallen souls to start climbing out of the floor at any moment.  

“Something’s smelling good,” Daniel said, walking through the back door.

Carson had just left after cleaning nearly every dish in the place, and Chrissy was taking a break.

Daniel took his hat off, taking a seat at the kitchen island.

“Is that peach?” he asked, taking a deep whiff of air.

I nodded, wiping my hands on my apron.

“White peaches and mountain blueberries,” I said.

“Are you saving a slice for me?”

“If it’s any good,” I said. “I don’t know if I’ve perfected the recipe yet. But I’m making it just for you.”

“Really?” he said.

I nodded.

I got him a glass of blueberry lemonade from the fridge and placed it in front of him before taking a seat at the table.

He took a long drink from it, a drop of sweat falling from his forehead.

“Damn, it’s hot in here,” he said.

“The air conditioner broke. I called the repair guys, but they’re backed up all week.”

“Remind me and I’ll take a look at it tonight,” he said.

He placed his half-empty glass on the table.

“So,” he said, clearing his throat. “I’m sorry about all that earlier.”

“What? Why?” I said, a little too quickly, trying to cover up any hint of insecurity.

Of course, by doing that, I only betrayed all of it.

“I just didn’t want you to get the wrong idea,” he said.

My stomach tightened.

“You don’t need to explain,
Dan
.”

I tried to make it sound funny, but it backfired on me. He looked at me with concern.

“I want to be completely honest with you, Cin,” he said. “Stephanie and I… well, I knew her back in California.”

I felt my hands gripping the fabric of my apron.

“Were you guys a—”

He shook his head before I could even finish.

“No,” Daniel said. “She was dating one of the cops in the department, that’s how I knew her. But they ended up going through a rough patch for a little while, and she started calling me a lot. We’d talk. But nothing ever happened between us. I wasn’t about to go make enemies with her boyfriend, and besides, she wasn’t right for me.”

I took a deep breath.

“But there was something there, wasn’t there?” I asked. “You liked her.”

“
Liked
being the operative word.Past tense.”

I searched his eyes, as if I had some sixth sense that would discern whether or not he really meant that.

The timer beeped. I started getting up to check on the pies, but Daniel put his hand on mine to stop me.

“You believe me, don’t you?”

I looked into his eyes again.

“Look, I don’t expect you not to have a past,” I said, shrugging.

“I know, I know,” he said. “And I don’t expect you not to have one either. And since I know yours, I know that trust doesn’t always come easy for you. I just… I want you to know that you don’t ever need to worry about that kind of thing, Cin. Not from me.”

He squeezed my hand.

“I do believe you,” I said, looking up and meeting his gaze.  

I got up and went over to the ovens to check on the pies. The filling was golden and caramelized and bubbling nicely. I grabbed the pan with oven mitts and pulled them out, placing them on the counter in front of the window to cool. 

I turned around and was surprised to see him standing close to me.

“Was there a reason you came over to the station this morning?” he asked. “It seemed like you needed something.”

He closed in on me. I could smell the fresh scent of his aftershave, and it was making me weak in the knees, reminding me of how much I’d missed him, even if we’d only been apart for a couple of days.

My heart suddenly started beating hard in my chest.

He took my left hand.

“Something about this?” he said, rubbing my finger.

My mouth went dry as my courage shrank like a wilting flower.

Where had it gone?

In the moment I needed it, all my strength took the fast train out of Dodge.

“I was coming over to… How long is she going to be in town, anyway?”

It was cowardly, and I regretted it the moment the words came out of my mouth. Changing the subject like that just to get out of talking about the real issue at hand was a real weak move. 

He sighed deeply, shaking his head. Then he wrapped his arms around me, that familiar warmth feeling so good, even if it was already 87 degrees in the kitchen.

“Does it matter?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said.

He leaned back.

“She didn’t say how long she’d be here for,” he said.

“Well, what does she need your help with?”

“She’s looking for someone,” he said. “But stop changing the subject, Cin. Tell me why you came to see me this morning.”

Suddenly, I couldn’t breathe. All the air in the room seemed to evaporate, and I was left sucking in what was left.

After a few moments of strangled silence, he could tell that I wasn’t going to have an answer for him.

“Okay, Cin,” he said, nodding sadly. “However long it takes.”

He put his hat back on and started walking away.

“Can we talk later?” I said in a squeaky voice, just as he was leaving.

He stopped and turned back toward me.

“It’s going to be a late night,” he said. “I’ve got a lot of work to do.”

“The fire at Kara’s store?” I asked.

He nodded.

“We haven’t seen anything quite like it before,” he said.

“Did they find out what caused it?” I asked.

“It’s more of a question of
who
.”

My mouth dropped open.

Chapter 20

Daniel was right.

It wasn’t anything I’d ever seen or heard of before either. 

Whoever had started the fire in Kara’s shop had kicked in the back door to get to the inventory room. The fire department found accelerant, which made it clear that it hadn’t been any sort of accident.

That, and the fact that they had footage from the downtown parking lot camera placed in the alleyway behind Kara’s shop. 

After seeing that, it was clear that the blaze had been without a doubt, intentional. And that whoever was behind it was one very depraved individual.

Daniel said that the footage caught the arsonist on his way out the back door. He seemed to know exactly where the camera was, Daniel said, because he looked up at it for a moment, and then did something that made me shudder after Daniel told me about it.

The arsonist took a bow.

And that wasn’t even the worst of it. 

There was something else. Something bone-chilling.

The arsonist, whoever he was, was dressed up as none other than the man who was responsible for pulling in thousands of dollars each year in tourism money for Christmas River.

The man that could be said to have helped save a dying logging town from ruin back in the day.

Santa Claus.

Santa Claus, complete with a red velvet jacket, a black buckled belt, a red hat with a white pom pom, and a thick beard, according to Daniel.

Old St. Nick had burned Kara’s shop down to the ground.

The image sent my blood running cold.

When Daniel told me, I could hardly believe it. Who would do such a thing? And why had he targeted Kara?

Could it have been an ex-boyfriend maybe? One of the dozens of men she’d dated over the years who might have been holding onto a grudge all this time?

Or did she even know the perpetrator at all? Was he just a nut roaming the streets of Christmas River who saw an opportunity to carry out his insanity?

Even though it had been Kara that had been targeted, I couldn’t help but feel angry and helpless, as if I’d been the victim.

The same question kept churning over and over in my head. 

Who would do such a thing to Kara?

I spent the rest of the day thinking it over, but by the end, I was no closer to an answer than I had been when I started.

Chapter 21

“Now, here’s the script. I know it’s a lot to remember in such a short period of time, but you’re going to have to call upon your inner thespian for inspiration. Despite a last minute change in actress, Christmas River is still expecting their Mrs. Claus to be as warm and ethereal as ever.”

Sarah Reinhart, the vocabulary-toting director of Christmas River’s Christmas in July Parade and Play, handed me a stack of papers that probably had killed an entire oak tree.

As I sat there in one of the auditorium seats, flipping through the pages, my regret level soared to an all-time high.

Not only was I in full Mrs. Claus dress in the hot, dank Christmas River High School auditorium, but I had a script the size of
Crime and Punishment
to memorize.

“I’m just curious,” I said, clearing my throat. “I guess I was wondering why none of the other cast members here wanted to be Mrs. Claus after Kara stepped down. It just seems like it might be easier if one of them takes on this role. I mean, they know the play already. I’m just jumping in blind.”

Sarah’s eyes narrowed from behind her glasses, and she crossed her arms.

“Everybody’s too invested in their current roles right now,” she said. “And we have high standards with this play. I’m afraid not just anybody can take on the role of Mrs. Claus. Frankly, I even have my doubts about you.”

I bit my tongue to stop from saying something I’d regret while a rush of anger made its way up to my head.

I couldn’t believe this woman owned a tutoring business. The little lab wasn’t too far away from my shop. I could imagine she’d made a lot of little kids cry in her time. 

When Kara had asked me to fill in for her as Mrs. Claus, I had imagined myself sitting on top of a parade float in the sunshine, waving and smiling and throwing candy at happy children. Not performing in front of the entire Christmas River community in a bad play directed by a full-of-herself, untalented theater director who had yet to thank me for filling in at such a late hour to save her stupid play.

No. This wasn’t how I imagined it going at all.

But I had to remind myself why I was here.

It wasn’t just because I was helping my best friend out, saving her from a hole she’d elected to lower herself into after being convinced by Moira Stewart that the view looked a lot better from below the topsoil line.

Though that was one of my motivations.

The other one, the reason that I was really there, was because I thought I might be able to help Kara out in a more substantial way.

I’d thought of it while I was making a batch of Lemon Gingercrisp pies that afternoon.

What if the fire at Kara’s shop had something to do with the Christmas in July play?

It seemed possible. The arsonist had been dressed up as Santa. I mean, it could just have been some random maniac with a flair for dramatics. This was Christmas River, a town that prided itself on having the Christmas spirit year-round.

But the timing of the fire so close to the Christmas in July festivities seemed like it could have been more than a coincidence.