The Case of the Missing Elf: a Melanie Hart Mystery (Melanie Hart Cozy Mysteries Book 2) (7 page)

“Barnaby said he’d have everything covered.” Porter raised a finger and tapped his noggin. “A clever man, that’s what Barnaby was.”

“And you believed him?”

“Always. The man was rolling in cash. So if he said he could fix the warehouse up, I never doubted him. Plus, he said he was about to come into even more money.”

This certainly didn’t fit with Wendy’s view of her cousin. She’d thought him poor without funds,  barely scraping by.

Curiouser and curiouser.
“Where was the money to come from? Do you know?”

Porter returned my frown. “Never you mind, missy. That was his business.”

Why was it, I wondered, that so many people clamped their mouths shut just when their stories became really interesting?

A
fter I returned to my car, I switched on the heater and headed home. Dad would doubtless be in the kitchen preparing dinner, which on Sundays was served at noon.

Except for my stint at college, the house I pulled up before a few minutes later had been my home for all my life. The place was a colonial with white clapboard siding, green shutters, and a tastefully sculptured lawn, which today, of course, was snow white. As I pulled in the driveway, I thought the house looked like a scene from an old-fashioned Christmas card.

“You’re just in time,” Dad said, as I stepped through the back door and entered his well appointed kitchen.

Glancing over his head at the clock on the far wall. I noted it said the time was five minutes to eleven. ”What gives?” I asked. “Are we eating early today?”

“We’re having company. He should be arriving any minute. Do you think you could handle the hostess duties while I carry on in here?”

“Who is it?”

“Hugh Jennings.”

“Why wasn’t I informed about this?” Jennings was a local high school teacher. He was also my father’s favorite candidate for son-in-law. Dad had decided after my college fiance dumped me three days short of graduation that Hugh was the perfect person to take my ex-beau’s place. My father hadn’t even backed off Hugh when I’d started dating Josh Devon..

“Well?” Dad demanded.

“What?”

“Will you see to his comfort while I put the finishing touches on dinner?”

“Of course.”

“You should have just enough time for a makeover before he arrives.”

I shook my head in disbelief. “Do I look that bad?”

“You’re just a little too casual for a Sunday lunch, don’t you think?”

Not in a more normal environment, I thought. But Dad had never adopted today’s casual dress codes. He still wore suits and ties to work and expected me to dress professionally, too. Normally, I didn’t mind, but this was Sunday, and for now, would be my only day off work this week.

Turning, I set off for the stairway, leaving Dad behind with Taffy. The dog sat at his heels looking up adoringly at him. The cocker spaniel never missed a session with Father when he was in the kitchen. and she was nearly always rewarded  with some special scrap or another during dinner prep. The dog was nearly as spoiled by Dad’s cooking as I was.

A few seconds later, up in my bedroom, I slipped out of my jeans and top, and replaced them  with a white silk blouse and a pair of dark dress slacks. I added a dark cardigan to help chase the day’s chill away. Taking up my position before the mirror, I tossed on a fresh layer of blush, did a quick swipe of lipstick, and called myself improved.

There wasn’t time to wash and re-fluff my hair, which had been flattened by my stocking cap. Maybe if I’d known I was to entertain a dinner guest, I thought, I wouldn’t have worn the hat. Then, again, why shouldn’t I have? It was disgustingly cold outside. Sighing, I drew the mess back into a ponytail and called it done. I mean what was the point of fussing? I wasn’t interested in Hugh, nor was he interested in me. Not romantically, at least. We’d privately clarified that point between ourselves about a year ago.

Dashing down the stairs, I was almost at the bottom step when the doorbell rang. And there Hugh stood, in all his glory, carrying a large bouquet of flowers in his right hand and smiling broadly.

He was a fine looking fellow. Copper hair, green eyes, easy manner. I’d never quite figured out why we’d not clicked. But we hadn’t, and a pleasant enjoyment of each other’s company now had sprung up since we’d clarified the romance bit.

“Come in, come in. You must be freezing out there.”

Hugh handed me the flowers, a gorgeous mixture of yellow daisies, crimson carnations, and baby’s breath. I beamed at him. “That’s such a cheery sight on such a cold  winters day. Thank you.”

“I’m glad you like them.” He gave me a wink. I laughed.

After he’d unwrapped his scarf and slipped off his overcoat, I deposited them in the hall closet and led him into the living room, where a roaring fire was already burning. Dad had obviously been a busy boy during my morning’s absence.

“Would you like a drink?”

“Some wine would be nice if you have it.”

“Certainly. Dad’s assembling a chicken dish, so would a white wine be okay with you?”

“Perfect.”

“Why don’t you follow me to the kitchen? Dad was close to done when I last spoke to him.. He might have finished his tasks by now. Plus, I need to get these flowers into a vase.”

We found my father bent over the stove, where he’d apparently just slipped something into the oven.

He turned and beamed and extended a hand toward our guest. “Hugh, so glad you could join us.”

I watched the two men exchange greetings. Internally, I was totally confused. I was already dating a man named Josh. He was an accountant for a manufacturing firm headquartered in a Chicago suburb. He often came down to spend his weekends here with me. I’d thought Dad had approved our relationship, so that he was again throwing Jennings at me left me puzzled.

I found a vase, stashed the flowers inside it, and returned my attention to the men. “So,” I rubbed my hands together, “should I pour the wine?”

“I opened a bottle to breathe earlier,” Dad said, inclining his head toward the kitchen island. A bottle of Chardonnay and three wine glasses stood waiting for me to take advantage of them. So I did.

I distributed the filled glasses. We toasted the day.

“Shall we retire to the living room?” Dad asked. “Everything’s well in hand in here.”

We set off down the hallway, Taffy and me bringing up the rear.

“What’s the latest on this murder?” Hugh asked Father.

“You’ll have to talk to Melanie about it. She’s covering the investigation for the newspaper.”

“Indeed?” Hugh turned his head back toward me and raised his glass like my doing so was some major accomplishment rather than a routine part of my job.

Thank you so very much, I thought. Then, I reminded myself that Dad had kept the first murder story that came my way for himself. And that memory helped put Hugh’s toast in perspective.

“So what is the latest news on that front?” Dad asked me.

“I should get an update from Gossford tomorrow. But I was out this morning interviewing a friend of Scroggins.”

“Who was that?” Dad asked. Having reached the living room, he settled into his favorite chair.

Hugh took the couch. I opted for an armchair near the fire. If Dad thought I would plant myself beside Hugh on the couch, Dad could just think again. Our charade wasn’t worth pushing that far. Someday one of us was going to get married or engaged. There was little point to letting Dad’s hopes for our union continue much longer..

“His name is Lester Porter,” I explained. “He’s a bit of a roustabout, I guess, but he was more than willing to give me some background information on Scroggins.”

“That’s good,” Father said.

“Yes, it was kind of him,” I answered, but said nothing more.

Jennings leaned forward. “Who was this Scroggins anyway?”

I swallowed the small sip of wine I’d just taken. “His major claim to fame was his annual portrayal of an elf in Santa’s cabin. He grew up here. Left for a while, then returned to Cloverton after his business failed. His major claim to fame, locally at least, was his portrayal of the elf in Santa’s Cabin.”

Hugh laughed. “Guess I must have missed that one, then.”

“His official duties included keeping the children in line and steering them to their sessions with Santa.”

Hugh and I continued to play nice through drinks and our dinner of roast chicken and roasted winter vegetables.  But by the end of the meal,  the act was beginning to wear thin on me. And by the time we reached dessert, I’d decided I need to speak up  and rid Dad of his expectations for Hugh and me.

I couldn’t understand how Father could be so dense. I’d been dating Josh for months now and made no secret of how well I liked  him. Why was he still pushing Hugh at me?

Maybe, I thought, Dad’s concern was that Hugh lived here in Cloverton while Josh didn’t. On some level, I suspected Dad worried that I might someday move away from our little town.

“Really,” Dad said after closing the door on Hugh’s departing back, “I think that went very well, don’t you?”

“It did. Just as long as you realize how the land lays.”

Dad stopped short and turned to face me. “And how is that, Dear?”

“Almost a hundred percent in favor of Josh Devon,” I said.

Dad’s face darkened. “It’s been weeks since that man has made an appearance here. I thought perhaps you two had gone your separate ways.”

“I think, if that would have happened, you’d have noticed.”

“How’s that?”

“I would have been bumming around here in tears for months.”

“It’s that serious then?”

“For me, yes.”

“How does he feel?”

“From what he says, I’d say the same.”

“So you see yourself moving up near Chicago in the future?”

I walked up and wrapped my arms around my father and drew him to me in a tight hug. “Not a chance,” I said, rubbing his back and gazing over his shoulder.  “I’m taking over the newspaper when you retire, Dad. Nothing’s changed. You can’t chase me off that easily.”

“Then what about Josh and his job?” Dad asked as we broke apart.

“Don’t worry yourself about that. If it’s meant for us to be together, we’ll find a way to work it out. But the one thing you can count as certain is that I’m not leaving Cloverton.

~~~

That night, Ginger and I got together at her house as planned. The temperature outdoors had dropped for most of the afternoon and now was headed down close to zero. Could that lovely, warm, autumn-like day have been with us as recently as just Friday?” But that was Illinois, where the  weather was about as constant as the wind.

I scurried inside Ginger’s house and shoved the door closed behind me.

“Nasty out there?” my host asked, taking my scarf and gloves and coat from me and slipping them into the closet.

“You don’t want to know.”

“It wasn’t all that long ago I was out there myself. And I’m delighted to be tucked up at home tonight.”

“How did the afternoon session go at the cabin?” I asked.

“Nary a soul ventured out. I couldn’t blame them. Who wants to stroll from store to store on outdoor sidewalks at these temperatures?” Ginger ushered me to the kitchen. “I’ve made hot chocolate. I thought we could switch to coffee later, but first I figured a little chocolate and milk laced with sugar might help chase the winter blues away.”

“Works for me, thank you.” I rubbed my hands together to warm them. Even wearing gloves, the drive over in a cold car had robbed my fingers of most of their warmth. That was one of the downsides to living in a small town. Nothing was far enough away for the car to have time to warm up before reaching my destination.

I sat myself at the kitchen table, which had been set with napkins and a platter of chocolate chip cookies.

“Thank you for agreeing to host this session. I can’t let Dad catch wind that we’re back at chasing down killers again.”

“Like I’ve told you, you need to move into your own place.”

“Right. Maybe someday.”

“I know where there’s an empty apartment. The rent’s probably not too expensive, either.”

“That’s kind of you,” I said. Ginger rented out rooms on the second floor of her beauty shop which was housed in an old, Victorian house she’d inherited from her parents. Obviously, she was suggesting that I join the members of the staff who lodged there when they needed a place to land.

Ginger cast me a disbelieving glance. “Sugar, I’m not offering you a room over my shop. That’s exclusively reserved for my employees. No, I was thinking about Wendy’s carriage house.”

I glanced up, alarmed. “Where I just stumbled onto a dead body? You can’t be serious.”

“Hey, I bet it’s a lovely place.”

“It is,” I answered with regret.

Other than leaving Dad home alone, the apartment would fulfill my every dream. It was the perfect size. The landlady was charming. The conversion was stylishly done. The only problem was that every time I closed my eyes in the bedroom, I’d see Scroggins lying there. Well, that plus the fact that I can’t cook, and I was rather fond of eating.

Across the room, Ginger poured hot chocolate into an ornate Christmas mug. “You should talk to Wendy. I bet she’d give you an excellent deal.” She grabbed a second mug and poured again.

Ginger meant well. But she’d never yet met up with a corpse. A part of me almost wished she would so she’d have a better idea of how distasteful an experience it was. Then, I took the wish back. Ginger didn’t deserve that bad a fate. Come to think of it, neither did I.

“So,” I asked, preferring to sidestep the issue for now, “did any of the board members know about last year’s bad blood between Sparks and Scroggins?”