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  Candy

  Cane

  Killer

  A Cozy Baked Murder

  by

  Kate Bell

  Copyright © 2016 by Kate Bell. All rights reserved. This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination, or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronically or mechanical, without permission in writing from the author or publisher.

  Other books by Kate Bell

  Apple Pie A La Murder,

  A Cozy Baked Murder, Book 1

  Trick or Treat and Murder,

  A Cozy Baked Murder, Book 2

  Turkey Trot Terror

  A Cozy Baked Murder, Book 3

  --1--

  I sighed when we turned onto Montrose Street. I was home. My Mama and Daddy had bought the house I grew up in during the first year of their marriage, nearly fifty years ago. Daddy had passed away almost twenty years earlier, but Mama would stay put in that house for the rest of her life, I was sure. The house had all the charm you would expect in an old Southern home. A white picket fence surrounded the property and the cottage style house boasted gingerbread trim and a wide wraparound porch. Magnolia trees shaded the front yard and rose bushes lined the white picket fence. There was a large backyard with peach, apple, plum, and pear trees. The porch was my favorite part of the house. It was wide and accommodating and Daddy had installed wide paddled ceiling fans so the summers would be more bearable during the evenings. Tears sprang to my eyes as we pulled into the driveway.

  “We’re home, kids,” I said, and wiped my eyes with a tissue.

  “What a beautiful house,” Alec remarked.

  “Isn’t it?” I said and opened the door to the minivan we had rented at the airport in Mobile. Mama hated to drive far, even though she was only in her early seventies and I had decided it would just make things easier all the way around if we rented the van. That way we would also have it to run around town if we wanted to.

  The front door of the house swung open and Mama came out and stood on the porch and waved. I broke into a run and threw myself into her arms and started crying all over again. How was it I had managed to move so far away and stay all these years? Moments like this made me so homesick I thought I would curl into a ball and never stop crying.

  “What are you crying about?” Mama murmured into my hair.

  “I miss you so much. You need to move to Maine so you’ll be closer,” I said. It was pointless to say it. Mama was an Alabama girl and an Alabama girl she would stay. I wondered how hard it would be to get Alec to move to Alabama.

  “Grandma!” Jennifer said and elbowed me out of the way so she could hug Mama.

  I took a step back and turned toward Alec and smiled. He had the back of the minivan open and was getting the luggage out. I went to him as Thad hugged Mama and introduced his new girlfriend, Sarah.

  “Hey, I have someone for you to meet,” I said.

  He gave me a smile and took my hand as we headed back for the front porch. Mama had my brother Jake put up clear Christmas lights around the edge of the roof and around the porch railing. It was after seven in the evening and dark out, but the house was lit up so that it was a beautiful sight. A larger than life wreath hung on the front door. The wreath was decorated with red glass ball ornaments and red felt Santa’s.

  “Mama, this is Alec,” I said.

  “Well, pleased to meet you young man,” she said and pushed past his outstretched hand.

  “Oh,” he said in surprise as she hugged him tight. “Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Hamilton.”

  “Now, don’t you call me Mrs. Hamilton. That’s far too formal. Allie has told me all about you and I feel like I know you already. You can call me Mama,” she said, taking a step back to look him over. Then she turned to me. “He is a looker, Allie. I must say you do know how to pick ‘em.”

  “Yes, I do!” I agreed and laughed.

  Alec went pink under the Christmas lights and glanced at me. “Well, I think I’ll get the luggage out,” he said, and wandered off.

  I looked at Mama and we giggled as he retreated back to the van. Poor Alec. We Southern women were going to get the best of him.

  “Let’s get inside. It’s getting late and I’ve made a light supper for y’all,” she said and led the way into the house, still giggling at Alec’s embarrassment.

  “I’ll help Alec with the luggage,” Thad said and headed to the van.

  Inside, the house was warm and cozy and smelled of roasted ham and sweet potatoes. Mama may have said she had made a light supper, but what that really meant was a small feast. She was incapable of making small amounts of food if she was going to be feeding more than herself.

  “Oh, that tree smells wonderful!” Sarah said and went over to a large blue spruce standing in the corner. She reached out a hand to touch one of its branches and exclaimed, “It’s real!”

  “Oh, yes ma’am,” Mama said. “I don’t believe in plastic Christmas trees. There’s no real Christmas spirit in those fake ones.”

  Each branch was lightly flocked and completely filled with lights and ornaments. Tiny plastic toys made in the 1950’s sat next to delicate German glass balls with glitter and painted scenes on them from the 1940’s. Mama had draped long strands of silver tinsel on each branch, giving the tree a shimmering effect. I remembered being given that job as a young girl and being told over and over, to hang one strand at a time on the branches. If it had been up to me, I would have tossed handfuls of the stuff on the branches and been done with it. Mama wouldn’t have it.

  In front of each light, she had swirled white gossamer angel hair, giving the tree a dreamy look. I had never had the patience to decorate a tree like she did, but I had to admit, it was worth the time and trouble.

  “Wow, I’ve never had a real tree before,” Sarah said. She inhaled deeply. “It smells so fresh!”

  “My goodness, child, you’ve never lived then,” Mama said and winked at me. “That’s the smell of Christmas.”

  “No, I haven’t,” Sarah agreed, looking at the tree wistfully.

  “I’m starving, Grandma,” Jennifer said, going to the kitchen. “I smell biscuits!”

  “They’ll be done in about two minutes,” Mama said to her, and then turned to me. “Come on into the kitchen.”

  Mama cooked on an old fashioned stove from the 1940’s. I had admired it all my life, with its extra oven and warming bins. I had seen restored stoves similar to hers on Pinterest and eBay and had drooled over a pink one for months. It wouldn’t fit the décor of my kitchen, but how I longed for that stove. I thought it might be worth a kitchen remodel to have it.

  I heard Alec and Thad stomp up the porch steps and come into the living room. “I’ll show you where to put them,” I heard Thad say, and they went down the hall.

  “So, how serious are you about that man?” Mama leaned toward me and whispered.

  I glanced at Jennifer. She had finally settled into the idea of me dating again, but still wasn’t thrilled about it. She had admitted she couldn’t argue that I hadn’t waited long enough after her father had died. Eight years was long enough. But I didn’t think she was ready to think about Alec and I doing anything more than dating.

  I nodded toward Jennifer, who was checking out the contents of Mama’s refrigerator and not paying attention to our conversation.

  “Oh,” Mama mouthed and smiled big. “Well, I suggest everyone get washed up and we’ll get this food on the table.”

  “Wow, it smells good in here!” Alec said, following Thad into the kitchen. “Is there
anything I can do to help?”

  “You can set yourself down at the table and Allie and I will have the food set out right quick,” Mama said, opening the oven door and pulling out a pan of biscuits.

  Alec smiled at me and did as he was told. We had all eaten very sparsely on the plane and we were starving. There was nothing like home cooking, especially when it was my Mama’s home and her cooking.

  Mama put the biscuits in a red glass mixing bowl and covered them with a white flour sack dishcloth. I got the ham out and set it on the table, followed by sweet potatoes, green beans, coleslaw, potato salad, strawberry jam, and real butter. It was a feast, and I was going to have to do some serious running if I expected to not gain weight while we were here.

  Mama bowed her head and said Grace and we started passing bowls and serving trays.

  “I’m so glad y’all were able to come for Christmas. I can hardly believe I get you for two weeks,” Mama said.

  “We have so been looking forward to this trip,” I said, cutting into a slice of ham. She had put cherry jam on the ham as it cooked and it had caramelized and thickened into a delectable coating.

  “This is perfection,” I said after taking a bite.

  “So, Grandma, how is the Christmas baking going?” Jennifer asked innocently.

  “Now, don’t you tease me, young lady. You know how it’s going. It isn’t. However, your Aunt Shelby brought by a banana cream pie for dessert tonight. She was in town this morning. But smart alecky girls don’t get any,” she said, buttering a biscuit.

  Jennifer giggled. “I don’t know of any smart alecky girls around here, Grandma.”

  “I can’t wait to see Shelby and Jake,” I said. I turned to Alec. “You’ll love them. They’re just like me, only not as good looking.” I gave him a big cheesy grin.

  “I have no doubts about that. You do look a good deal like your mother,” he said.

  “Yes, I do,” I agreed. “Everyone has always said that.” My mother had not aged a lot in the past twenty years and I envied that and hoped I would take after her in that regard. Her hair was naturally curly and she kept it short. The red in it had faded, but it was a pretty color, nonetheless.

  “So, what do you kids want to do tomorrow?” Mama asked, looking around the table.

  “Sleep in,” Thad said. “Please. We flew to Maine in the middle of the night and then got on another plane early this morning.”

  “Sleep it is,” she said. Then she turned to me. “I think we should bake some gingerbread men sometime this week.”

  “We” meant me, and that was fine. She could handle the decorating duties and I would bake. Gingerbread men were a tradition in our family. We used an old recipe called Joe Froggers. Christmas wouldn’t be Christmas without Joe Froggers.

  When I was a little girl, my grandmama had told me that Joe Froggers were a Southern specialty. When I moved to Maine, I discovered they were actually a Northern specialty and I hadn’t had the heart to tell her. I discovered that a man called Old Black Joe and His wife Aunt Crease had come up with the cookie, using rum to help preserve them in the 1800’s in Massachusetts. They were made into cookies the size of lily pads and were the best gingerbread type cookie I have ever tasted. They became the Hamilton family traditional gingerbread cookie, and I couldn’t wait to make them.

  I just hoped no one thought I had baked the plate of gingerbread men found on Tom’s porch the day of his murder. Small towns, you know.

  --2--

  Alec and I went for a run as soon as the sun was up the next morning. It was nice being able to run outside again. The temperature in Maine had dropped to frigid levels, and we had given it up for the winter. It was cold here in Alabama with some frost on the ground, but once we got going, we warmed up nicely. I had my Under Armor on along with a knit cap and was feeling toasty warm.

  “It’s beautiful country here,” Alec commented as we ran.

  “Isn’t it though? I remember running barefoot through the woods as a girl, and just noticing all the wildlife.”

  “Barefoot?” Alec questioned. “That sounds painful.”

  I shrugged. “Sure, I guess it was sometimes. But it was summer, and I went barefoot all summer. My feet were pretty tough back then. I guess it was kind of dangerous, but I was twelve and fearless back then.”

  “Fearless back then? What about now?” he asked, looking at me sideways.

  I frowned, thinking about it. I had been through too much in life to be fearless anymore. I was aware of more things that could devastate a life in the blink of an eye, like the accident that took my husband’s life. And I was still having flashbacks to being shot at twice last month. No, I wasn’t fearless anymore. These days I was working on not living in fear.

  “I don’t think so,” I finally said.

  “That’s okay. One day you’ll be fearless again,” he said confidently.

  He said it with such confidence, I almost believed him. Could I ever really be fearless again?

  We slowed down as we got to my Mama’s house and walked around the yard to cool down. We had been gone for an hour and had gone at a good pace. I was pleased at the progress I was making in my marathon training. I sometimes wondered if I could ever really run an entire twenty-six point two miles, but I wanted to at least give it a try.

  Mama had ham and eggs frying when we got into the house. I could smell buttermilk biscuits baking above the smells of the other food cooking. It all made me feel nostalgic for my childhood home and my hometown.

  “Wow, that smells good,” Alec said, inhaling deeply.

  “You’ve got to have a good appetite if you’re going to hang around here,” Mama told him. She was standing in front of the stove with a spatula in hand, and a yellow flowered apron tied around her waist.

  “I’ve just worked one up,” he said, pouring himself a cup of coffee.

  ***

  “Jennifer, would you take this bowl of chicken and dumplings over to Mr. Turner next door?” Mama said to Jennifer, holding out a covered Pyrex dish to her.

  We had just finished up a lunch of chicken and dumplings and I had made an apple cobbler for dessert. Tom Turner had lived next door since I was in my teens. His wife, Jane, had died after breaking her hip and ribs and going into convalescent care. It was supposed to be temporary, but she had passed away while there.

  I knew Mama felt badly for him, being alone and all, and would send food over to him on a regular basis. As long as Mama was living next door, Tom would never starve.

  I sighed with contentment. I had eaten far more than I had intended and mentally warned myself not to eat like this every day. Mama somehow never put on a pound and was the same size as she had been in her early twenties. I must have taken after my father’s side of the family, because even with running, I had to watch how much I ate or I was going to have to run some extra miles to work off the food.

  I helped clear the table as Jennifer left on her errand. Mama still washed dishes by hand, so I set the dishes in the stoppered kitchen sink and turned on the faucet.

  “Need help?” Alec asked, bringing in three dirty glasses.

  “Sure, I’ll wash if you dry,” I said, handing him a clean dishtowel from the drawer where Mama kept them.

  “Oh, Alec, you don’t need to do that,” Mama said as she brought more dirty dishes in from the dining room table.

  “Nonsense, I have some mean dish drying skills. Just watch,” he said with a grin.

  “Well--” Mama began, but stopped when we heard shrill screaming coming from next door.

  Alec and I stared at each other wide-eyed for a moment, and then he was out the door on the run.

  “It’s Jennifer,” I said, shutting off the faucet and running after him.

  Alec hit the front door, and it swung violently on its hinges. I hoped he had his gun on him, and then I saw him reach for it under his shirt. The screams kept coming and everything felt like it was going in slow motion.

  Alec was in Mr. Turner’s yard in
moments, with me on his heels.

  Mr. Turner lay face down in the side yard, with the Pyrex bowl of chicken and dumplings smashed on the ground beside him. Jennifer stood next to him, screaming.

  Alec was on his knees, checking for a pulse. “Call 911,” he ordered.

  I reached in my pocket for my phone and pulled it out. “Stop screaming, Jennifer,” I said. I dialed and waited for the phone to be answered while Jennifer continued screaming.

  Thad and Sarah caught up to us, with Mama hurrying behind them.

  “Thad, get Jennifer out of here,” I said.

  “What happened?” Mama asked, out of breath. “What happened to Tom?”

  The dispatcher answered the phone, and I had to take a couple of steps away from all the commotion to be heard. “Please send an ambulance to 728 Montrose Street.” I gave her the particulars that I knew, which weren’t much.

  Alec turned Tom over, and the front of his shirt was covered in blood. The sight of all the blood sent Jennifer into more hysterics. “There’s no pulse and we’ve got either a gunshot or knife wound,” he said to me.

  I relayed the information to the dispatcher and hung up. We hadn’t heard a gunshot, but I had learned from Todd Spellman’s murder that silencers were still very much in use where murder was concerned.

  “Please, Thad, take your sister home,” I repeated, trying not to become irritated. I looked up and both he and Sarah were white faced. After a moment, Thad took Jennifer by the hand and the three of them went back to Mama’s house.

  I felt a wave of nausea come over me. Mama looked pale and swayed a little. “Mama, why don’t you go back to the house, too,” I said gently. “I’ll stay with Tom and Alec.” Mama had been fond of her neighbor and I knew this would be hard on her.

  I heard sirens in the distance. “You can go next door. I can handle this,” Alec said. He had laid Tom back down on his face.