Thousands of twinkle lights are strung between the evergreens and they transform the place into a multicolored wonderland. The scent of fresh pine hangs heavy in the air, mingling with the sweetness of hot cocoa and cinnamon churros sold from a candy-cane-striped cart. The sky is gray, the snow is light, and Christmas carols blast from the speakers as “Jingle Bell Rock” vibrates its cheery tune over the vicinity.
“The toys, the boys, the noise—this place feels just like Santa’s workshop,” Niki practically sings as we navigate through rows of Fraser firs and blue spruces, each tagged with a price that would make my credit card spontaneously combust.
“You say it like you’ve been there.”
“Oh, I have,” my saucy sister shoots back. “One time, Vinnie DeMarto took me to this old warehouse?—”
“And that’s where this story ends,” I’m quick to tell her. “If we don’t find Stella soon, I might develop a pine allergy,” I mutter, scanning the crowd for our elderly person of interest. Watson trots beside us with his golden fur collecting theoccasional snowflake, and his cute little nose working overtime with all the competing scents.
We’ve barely made it past the “Medium Trees for Medium Budgets” section when I hear the unmistakable sound of Aunt Cat’s laugh—a high-pitched cackle that could crack ice—followed by Carlotta’s smoky chuckle. I turn to see them barreling toward us like two festively dressed missiles locked on a target.
“There you are!” Aunt Cat exclaims, her hot pink parka blinding against the white snow. She’s accessorized with a fuzzy hat sporting actual jingle bells that announce her movements like a cat with a collar. “Running off without us? Now that’s just rude, young lady.”
“Not to mention dangerous,” Carlotta reprimands while adjusting her leopard print earmuffs. “You never know when you might need backup. Or an alibi.”
“I didn’t realize a murder investigation was a group activity,” I reply.
“Come on now, Effie. Everything is more fun with friends and family,” Aunt Cat says cheerfully before her expression turns serious. “Speaking of family…” She reaches into her parka pocket and extracts a red envelope. “This came for you. From your uncle.”
My stomach plummets faster than a kid sledding down an icy hill. The familiar envelope can only mean one thing—a new assignment from Uncle Jimmy.
I take it from her and can’t help but notice that the paper feels heavier than it should, as if it’s weighted with impending doom rather than just a name.
“So soon?” I lament, staring at the envelope of horror. The ink has barely dried on the payment for a hit I didn’t even complete, and here’s Uncle Jimmy, serving up seconds before I’ve digested the first course. I’m about to rip it open when a flash of red and white lights catches my attention.
Not more than a few feet away is Stella Martinelli, helping a family secure a tree to their car. She looks every bit as if Mrs. Claus herself got tired of North Pole administrative duties and decided to take a retail job. Her silver-streaked hair peeks out from under a Santa hat, and she’s wearing a red quilted jacket with white fur trim. Fuzzy mittens and snow boots complete the ensemble, making her look like the quintessential grandma who’s ready to serve up some hot cocoa rather than someone potentially involved in a double homicide.
“Target acquired,” Niki whispers as she nudges me.
“Try not to make it sound like a missile strike,” I whisper back, tucking the envelope into my purse for later. “Remember, we’re just here to shop for a Christmas tree, not give Cooper another homicide to solve before Santa slides down the chimney.”
Niki sniffs. “You mean giveyouanother homicide to investigate before Santa slides down the chimney.”
“I mean me,” I say with a sigh.
“Ooh, speaking of which.” Carlotta’s gaze drifts toward a group of young men dressed as elves, loading trees onto a flatbed truck. Their green tights leave little to the imagination, and their pointed hats add a certain festive flair to their biceps that suggest they moonlight as lumberjacks. “I spy with my little eye something beginning with the letter H.”
“Hot elves!” Aunt Cat shouts as if she just got the answer right on a game show. “Hot dog!” she claps up a storm. “It looks like Santa’s workshop got an upgrade!”
“Ladies,” I’m quick to reprimand them with my tone. “We’re here to interrogate a suspect, not ogle the North Pole beefcake.” I glance that way and moan because they are so ogle-worthy—for other women, of course. I’ve got all the beefcake I need with Coop.
“Who says we can’t multitask?” Niki asks, already drifting toward the muscular holiday helpers.
Before I can protest, all three women have abandoned our mission in favor of what Aunt Cat declared as “spreading Christmas cheer.”
I sigh and pick up Watson. “It’s just you and me, kid,” I tell him, planting a quick kiss on his cold, wet nose. His tail wags in response and I catch it and kiss the tip, too. I can’t help it. This sweet boy has my entire heart wrapped up around his furry little paw.
Stella has just finished helping the family and is busy adjusting her Santa hat when I reach her. Her cheeks are rosy, she holds the scent of sugar and spice and everything nice, and there’s an ethereal glow about her in general that screams Christmas magic.
Even thinking that she may have had something to do with these murders should be enough to land me on the naughty list—not that I’m not there already.
“Excuse me,” I call out with a little extra friendly pep in my voice. “I was wondering if you could help me find a tree that won’t shed all its needles before Christmas actually arrives?”
Okay, so that line may have worked a month ago, but now that the big day is just around the corner, it feels more like a moot point.
Stella turns around, looking like the perfect picture of helpful retail cheer just before she squints my way. “Oh! You’re the young lady from the bakery—and from the Jingle Bell Jubilee.” She gives a few quick blinks. “Effie, right?”
“That’s me,” I confirm with a smile. “And this is my sweet pooch, Watson. We’re on a mission to find the perfect Christmas tree.”
