Candy Canes & Corpses Page 24

  “Such a shame.” Izzy shook her head.

  “Yes, it is. That’s when Michael told Rick he wasn’t going to be a father to the baby. They got into a scuffle and that’s when Rick stabbed Michael. Poor Camille.” June shook her head. “I’ve talked to Camille and she’s committed to helping Debbie raise the baby.”

  “Really?” I couldn’t believe how amazing Camille was. “I’ll have to call her. It’s really turned out to be a light in such a dark time for her.”

  “Yes. It’s the magic of Christmas.” June’s lashes cast a shadow down her face. “You do believe in magic, don’t you, Roxy?”

  “I. . .” My mouth suddenly dried and I tried to swallow. “I’ve got to go. My aunt fell and I need to get to her.”

  Mr. Prince Charming jumped up in June’s arms.

  “Come back soon.” June waved me off.

  The cold air whipped around me as I made my way out of the shop, empty-handed. Goosebumps traveled along my neck.

  “You didn’t get anything?” Patrick asked when I got back into the car and clipped my seatbelt.

  “Do you believe in magic?” I asked him, ignoring his question.

  “I think it was magical that after all these years, we got married.” He leaned over and kissed me.

  I turned around and glanced out the back window. June Heal and Izzy were standing in the middle of the street waving at me.

  “Did you have a good honeymoon?” he asked, putting the car in DRIVE.

  “I barely remember any of it because it went by so fast.” I turned back around and got comfortable for the trip back home.

  Sassy and Pepper were sitting in the back.

  “It’s because we had a wonderful and relaxing time. No family or friends or work.” Patrick gripped the wheel, staring straight ahead.

  “Yeah, I guess that was it.” I glanced out the window and noticed the small wooden sign on the way out of town.

  Come back soon to visit our magical village, the sign read.

  Pepper let out a little bark. He was standing up with his front paws on the door handle, looking out of the window. His tail was wagging so fast. I looked out my window to see what he was barking at.

  There was a clearing where the snow hadn’t been touched. It laid on the ground, pristine and glistening beautifully in the light of the full moon.

  “What are you barking at?” My eyes narrowed. I gasped.

  There were hundreds of lightning bugs fluttering all over the clearing. Mr. Prince Charming was sitting among them. I swear he winked at me.

  I laughed out loud.

  “What are you laughing at?” Patrick reached across and took my hand.

  “Nothing.” I glanced over at him, attributing all the odd things I’d experienced to my active imagination.

  THE END

  Also By Tonya Kappes

  Magical Cures Mystery Series

  A Charming Crime

  A Charming Cure

  A Charming Potion (Novella)

  A Charming Wish

  A Charming Spell

  A Charming Magic

  A Charming Secret

  A Charming Christmas (Novella)

  A Charming Fatality

  A Charming Death (Novella)

  A Charming Ghost

  A Charming Hex

  A Charming Vodoo

  A Charming Corpse

  A Camper And Criminals Cozy Mystery

  Beaches, Bungalows And Burglaries

  Desert, Drivers And Derelicts

  Forests, Fishing And Forgery

  Christmas, Criminals, And Campers

  A Southern Cake Baker Series ( Under The Pen Name Of Maymee Bell)

  Cake And Punishment

  Batter Off Dead

  A Ghostly Southern Mystery Series

  A Ghostly Undertaking

  A Ghostly Grave

  A Ghostly Demise

  A Ghostly Murder

  A Ghostly Reunion

  A Ghostly Mortality

  A Ghostly Secret

  Killer Coffee Mystery Series

  Scene Of The Grind

  Mocha And Murder

  Freshly Ground Murder

  Cold Blooded Brew

  Kenni Lowry Mystery Series

  Fixin’ To Die

  Southern Fried

  Ax To Grind

  Six Feet Under

  Dead As A Doornail

  Tangled Up In Tinsel

  Spies And Spells Mystery Series

  Spies And Spells

  Betting Off Dead

  Get Witch Or Die Trying

  A Laurel London Mystery Series

  Checkered Crime

  Checkered Past

  Checkered Thief

  A Divorced Diva Beading Mystery Series

  A Bead Of Doubt Short Story

  Strung Out To Die

  Crimped To Death

  Olivia Davis Paranormal Mystery Series

  Splitsville.Com

  Color Me Love (Novella)

  Color Me A Crime

  Christmas Parties are Murder by Jenna St. James

  CHRISTMAS PARTIES ARE MURDER

  by Jenna St. James

  Copyright © 2018 by Jenna St. James.

  Published by Jenna St. James

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced without the written permission of the author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names and characters are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Chapter One

  “We’re gonna tear this place up tonight!” my seventy-five-year-old Nan cried as she tugged down the hem of her black mini dress.

  I barely suppressed a groan at her words as we hurried into the foyer of the three-story office building where I worked as a temp. Technically my last day had been yesterday, but I was still invited to the office Christmas party.

  “Simmer down there, Nan,” I joked. “Let’s not get too crazy.”

  Melanie “Mel” Adkins is not only my Nan, but she’s also my best friend. My mom died in childbirth, so I never really knew her. My dad would show me pictures and movies they took right up until the time of her death. So I feel I know her in some ways…but I never had a chance to physically meet her. My dad raised me the best he could. When he died young from a brain tumor around my twelfth birthday, I went to live with my Nan. She’s been my rock and my best friend ever since.

  Don’t get me wrong, it’s not always been sunshine and roses. Nan is sometimes a hard woman to live with, and she had a hand of steel when she needed it…but once I reached adulthood, she just slipped into being my best friend and roommate. Now at twenty-six, I’ve come to appreciate all she’s done for me.

  Immediately after nursing school, my Nan volunteered to serve in the Army Nurse Corps during the Vietnam War. When her time was up—including a one-year tour in Vietnam—she came back stateside, married my Papa, and then immediately had my dad. A few years later, Nan went back to college and was one of only a handful of people in the United States at that time to become a nurse practitioner. According to Nan, a nurse practitioner in the late seventies was virtually unheard of.

  My Papa also died before I was born, and my Nan never remarried. She claimed no one would ever capture her heart like Papa. Of course, that doesn’t keep her from dating at least once or twice a week. For a woman who has lost both her one true love and her only child, she has a very positive outlook on life. I love that about my Nan.

  I waved to the elderly security guard, Bernie, behind the huge counter and veered off toward the elevators. For the last two weeks I’d worked as the administrative assistant to Margaret Eldemire—a high-powered ad executive at the Staley & Thomas firm in Piper Springs, Kansas. Margaret’s regular assistant had gotten married and was on a two-week honeymoon cruise.

  Nan shook her head. “How is it you turned out so straight
laced, Amanda?”

  It’s not the first time we’ve asked each other that question. Nan and I are total opposites. I’m medium height and build, shoulder length reddish-auburn hair, hazel eyes, and according to Nan, I’m a goody-goody. I currently work temp jobs until I can support myself as a full-time pastry chef. My Nan is just over five feet, athletic, has a nearly wrinkle-free complexion, and she has the most beautiful electric blue eyes. Those eyes currently matched her hair. That’s right, my seventy-five-year-old Nan sports short, spiky black hair with electric blue tips. She’s well educated and has a fabulous sense of humor. Her other perk…she carries and conceals at least five different weapons on her body at all times.

  I shifted the miniature cake in my hand and pushed the up arrow on the elevator wall. I’d baked the sugar-free, low-carb cake tonight for Margaret Eldemire. Last week she confided in me that she’d recently lost forty-five pounds and wanted to keep it off, but the holidays proved to be more difficult than she thought. She was a stress eater, and under more stress than normal…not from the holidays per say, but from her job.

  According to Margaret, Staley & Thomas would announce the new vice-president of advertising and marketing at the Christmas party. She’d sworn me to secrecy before confiding that the three candidates up for the job had already been told, and she’d gotten the promotion. Margaret needed a way to celebrate with her friends without inhaling too many calories. When I offered to make a mini sugar-free, low-carb cake for her, Margaret jumped at the chance. She’d scribbled my name down on the sign-up sheet in the break room, bragging to everyone I would bake a diet cake just for her.

  “One more quick look.” Nan fluffed up her hair and checked out her appearance in the mirrored walls as we waited for the elevator. Her three-inch black and gold strappy high heels paired nicely with the knee-length, skin-tight black dress that hugged her curves perfectly. She looked both wild and sophisticated. Not at all like you might think a seventy-five-year-old grandma should look.

  I surreptitiously took in my four-seasons-ago long black dress and tried not to cringe. Usually this was my designated funeral dress, but tonight it had to double as my semi-formal attire. Mainly because I couldn’t afford to go out and buy a new dress. Nan had offered to buy me a new outfit, but I refuse to let her spend money on me. And every additional penny I make goes into my savings for my future bakery.

  The elevator doors slid open and we entered the miniscule death trap. As the coffin doors closed, I had Nan push the button for the second floor. I pretended I wasn’t unnerved and hummed along softly to the Christmas music in the elevator and prayed once more I’d have a good time tonight. Letting my hair down was not something I did easily.

  “Take a few deep breaths,” Nan said. “You’ll be fine. Drink a little…but not too much. You don’t want to be a meme on social media tomorrow.”

  I rolled my eyes and chuckled. “I think that advice is more for you than me.”

  “You’re right. I’ll try and remember I’m your plus one tonight and not embarrass you.”

  “Technically,” I said, “my last day was yesterday. So you’re fine.”

  Nan winked at me. “Good to know.”

  The elevator doors slid open, and my senses were immediately assaulted. About fifty people were crammed in the front office area, drinking and laughing. Most sported Santa hats and blinking jewelry. Snowflakes, Christmas ornaments, and candy canes hung from ceiling tiles, and the smell of cinnamon and pine permeated the air.

  I was about to take a step backward into the elevator and flee back to our condo when Nan grabbed hold of my elbow and gave me a reassuring smile. “We’re here to have a good time, Amanda.”

  “You’re right.”

  Nan laughed and shook her head. “Let’s go find you a drink to help you relax.”

  “First let’s put the cake in the workroom. Then we can find a drink and relax.”

  “And hit on cute guys,” Nan added.

  I snorted. “I didn’t see many of those around in my two weeks here. Especially in your age group. But I have no doubt if there’s a cute guy running around, you’ll find him.”

  Nan grinned, wrapped her arms through mine, and together we ambled over to the workroom. I kept my eyes open, hoping to catch sight of Margaret so I could find out where exactly she wanted me to put her candy cane cake.

  Yesterday afternoon I received an email from Margaret as I was leaving work. She asked if I could make her diet cake with mounds of white and pink diet buttercream frosting. So last night I went online and found a recipe for diet frosting. In the end, I was impressed with the consistency of the frosting. To make the cake more Christmas-y, I went ahead and crushed up candy canes to sprinkle on top of the pink and white frosting, then added pink sugar crystals for effect.

  Nan and I entered the crowded workroom, and I gasped at the lovely sight before me. The tables all had red tablecloths draped over them, and the matching candy cane plates, cups, and napkins paired well with the candy cane centerpieces. Intrigued, I picked up one of the centerpieces and examined it. Someone had taken four candy canes and flipped them upside down so the loops rested evenly on the table. From there they glued the four canes to a skinny, red candle, and then tied mistletoe around the candle.

  I set the candy cane centerpiece back down on the table and looked around for Margaret. I caught her eye across the room. She waved and excused herself from the group and hurried over to where Nan and I grazed from a food table. When Margaret saw the little cake I carried, her mouth dropped open and tears filled her eyes.

  “Oh, it’s precious!” Margaret cried. “I almost don’t want to eat it.”

  I laughed. “Where do you want me to set it?”

  Margaret bent down and scooted a couple desserts closer together and made a spot for her cake. Grinning, she pulled a tiny piece of paper out of her dress pocket. Scrawled in fancy pink letters was her name. She set the place card in front of the mini cake and clapped her hands.

  “No one should bother it,” Margaret said. “Pretty much everyone knows I’ve lost this weight. Not like you can hide forty-five pounds.”

  “But good for you for planning ahead,” Nan said.

  “I love how you went with a pink and white theme,” Margaret said. “Matches the décor.”

  “Just like you requested,” I said.

  Margaret frowned. “I did?”

  I laughed at her forgetfulness. “Yes. In your email to me yesterday?”

  “I guess I forgot.” Margaret shrugged. “I’ve been so busy lately I can hardly remember my own name. Now let’s get out of here before I inhale this table.”

  We all headed back out toward the main party area.

  “What time is the announcement for the promotion?” I asked Margaret.

  “Around eight o’clock,” Margaret said. “At least that’s what the email from Patrick Staley said.”

  I glanced at the clock on the wall. There was still about thirty minutes before the final decision would be announced.

  Margaret groaned. “Looks like Marc is waving me over. I better go see what he wants.”

  Marc Mallard paced back and forth in front of Margaret’s office. His face was a scary shade of red, and his blonde hair was tousled and stuck up in spikes. His blue suit was disheveled and wrinkled, and his tie was undone and flopped loosely around his neck. Marc had also been a contender for the vice-presidency job according to Margaret.

  “Wonder what that’s all about,” Nan murmured.

  I shrugged. “Not a fan of Marc Mallard, so I really don’t care.”

  Nan laughed and snagged two flutes of champagne from a tray on a nearby table. “Let’s go mingle. I see some eye candy over by the copy machine.”

  I accepted the glass and swiveled to see who it was she meant. I wasn’t kidding when I said I hadn’t seen anyone worthwhile in the two weeks I worked here.

  I sucked in my breath. “Wow. I don’t remember seeing him around.”

  “Let’s go,
” Nan said as she grabbed my elbow and dragged me behind her.

  Standing nearly a foot taller than anyone around him, a handsome man with piercing brown eyes, long wavy brown hair, close-cropped beard, and a square, chiseled jaw stood lazily sipping from a glass beer bottle. I guessed him to be in his early thirties. I snorted at his choice of clothing…short-sleeved T-shirt sporting a kitsch picture of cats and dogs in Santa hats. His dark, fitted jeans were stylish and expensive. He also touted a lot of solid muscle. He reminded me of that hottie Jason Momoa. When his eyes fell on Nan and me, he lifted one corner of his mouth along with his beer.

  “Hi there,” Nan said as she wiggled her way in between three other people standing by the handsome guy. “Nice party.”

  He gave my Nan a wolfish grin as he took her all in. “It is now.”

  I gulped down my glass of champagne and pretended not to notice his sleeve of tattoos. He had danger written all over him…from his piercing eyes, to his muscled body, to his bad-boy tattoos. This was exactly the kind of guy Nan liked. If only he wasn’t forty years younger.

  “Do you work here or are you a plus one like me?” Nan asked.

  He turned his large, muscled body so he spoke directly to Nan and me. “I work here. First floor.”

  I mentally kicked myself for not going to the first floor more often. Not that I’d have had the nerve to speak to him.

  “My name’s Mel,” Nan said, “and this is my granddaughter, Amanda Adkins. She was the temp girl for Margaret Eldemire. That’s how we snagged an invite tonight.”

  “Blake Wellington.” He nodded to me. “I know who you are. I had to set up your email account your first day on the job. Usually that would be Cooper’s area since he’s Margaret’s main IT guy, but he was out sick that day.”