Purrfect Slaying Read online

  Michael's brows furrowed. "Who?"

  Right, Michael hadn't grown up in Cedar Valley, so he wouldn't have any idea who Marley Sinclair was.

  "He was a rich old guy who nobody liked. Lived alone in that Victorian down Pine Street."

  Michael's expression cleared. "Oh, that house with a big old iron gate that's electrified? I didn't know anyone even lived there. Isn’t the yard overgrown?"

  Hazel smiled and fixed Anthony Ray's leash to his harness. The black cat flipped his tail and pawed at the door, ready to be outside in the snow.

  Hazel wasn't sure of his breeding, but he sure did like the cold, and he had a coat made for it, thick and black and as soft as a cloud.

  "Yeah, well someone did live there. Until now. You do know Santa’s Village doesn’t open till around noon, right?"

  Michael shrugged. "I thought I could walk around and maybe get some Christmas shopping done before I start the photography thing. How many hours am I working today?"

  “Four, It's too cold to work longer than that. And remember to get warmed up whenever you get the chance. I don't want you getting frostbite in your toes because of this."

  Michael looked at her as if he didn't know if that was a joke or not. "Seriously?"

  Hazel nodded. "Frostbite is no joke. You know what happened to the Donner party, right?"

  “I don’t think we’re going to have to eat each other at the Christmas Fair," Michael said, his voice rising an octave in horror.

  Hazel snickered. "Let's hope not. That would ruin the holiday spirit,” she said and pushed open the door.

  Michael went ahead of her, though he didn't head for CATfeinated, the coffee shop run by Hazel's best friend, Celia Parks. Instead, he turned down the road toward Let Them Eat Cake, Esther's bakery.

  "Are you picking up breakfast first?" Hazel called.

  Michael's cheeks flushed, though Hazel couldn't tell if it was because of the cold or embarrassment. "Actually, I'm picking up Tess. I asked if she wanted to walk around the Christmas Fair with me and she said yes. At least, I think she said yes."

  Hazel grinned. "Good luck."

  Tess Turtledove was the young woman who ran the New Age shop, Esoterica, with Hazel's mother. She was on the odd side, but that wasn't necessarily a bad thing.

  Hazel herself wouldn't have minded dropping into her sister's bakery for breakfast, but she figured a bagel would serve her better than something sweet.

  Anthony Ray trudged ahead of her, and Hazel smiled a hello at Paul, the rugged outdoorsy guy who ran the kayak and ski shop. A blonde woman stood next to him, and they were both dressed for the weather in puffer jackets and heavy pants.

  "Happy holidays, Hazy Hart," Paul said with a sunny smile. “Do you have a booth at the fair this year?"

  Hazel shook her head. "Not quite. We’re handling the Santa photos though and pictures of the fair itself. You have a booth?"

  Paul nodded, and tilted his head toward his shop. "One opened up last minute so I decided to snag it. Carol Collins gave it up, if you can believe that. I asked Cece if she wanted it, but she said there wasn’t anything that could convince her to stand out in the cold all day."

  Hazel laughed. She couldn’t blame her best friend for making that decision. "Well good luck. And happy holidays to you too."

  The blonde woman and Paul trudged off toward the park. Hazel didn't envy them at all. While she loved this time of year, she didn't love spending hours outdoors in subfreezing weather. While today was relatively warm at 29° F with the sun out, it wouldn't be that way for the next week and she knew it.

  Still, the holiday spirit burned bright in their small town. All the shops along Lake Street were heavily decorated with sparkling lights, wreaths and window displays. CATfeinated had a row of cat shaped multicolored lights sparkling around the eaves.

  Hazel smiled as she pushed open the door. She sucked in a deep breath, and let the warmth wash over her. It smelled like fresh coffee, cinnamon, and toasted bagels, all which made her mouth water.

  She hadn't had breakfast before they headed to Marley Sinclair's home, and her stomach grumbled, reminding her how foolish that was.

  Anthony Ray trotted up to greet the shop's official mascot, a fluffy white Persian named Ophelia. They sniffed each other's noses and butted heads in a friendly manner.

  Colton leaned against the counter and put up a hand in greeting. Celia stood with him, her dark curls framing her lovely light brown face.

  "Marley Sinclair is dead?" she said and pushed Hazel's order across the counter, one toasted sesame bagel with cream cheese and one large latte.

  Hazel threw a quick glance at Colton, but he didn't seem perturbed by her comment. "Yeah, heart attack, most likely."

  Celia nodded. "Honestly, I thought he died years ago. The fact that he was still alive is what shocks me.”

  When Hazel thought about it, she realized she’d assumed he was dead too. She hadn't really thought about him since she moved back to Cedar Valley more than a year before. "Yeah, sad isn't it?”

  "I'm just glad he had a housekeeper, otherwise who knows how long it would've taken for someone to realize he died," Colton said grimly and took a long gulp of his coffee.

  Celia wrinkled her nose in disgust. “That’s not something I want to think about first thing in the morning. Are you starting work at the fair today?" she asked, deftly changing subjects as easily as she could change her outfit.

  Hazel nodded and straightened her scarf. "Thankfully, I have Michael to do the Santa's Village stuff, but that leaves me with the Christmas Fair and A Christmas Carol. I guess I'm supposed to follow around the cast and take pictures of them."

  Celia smiled, and shook her head. "Now you know why I don't get involved with that kind of stuff. Not even a booth. It's a nightmare trying to keep coffee hot in this kind of weather. I tried to talk Marcus out of it but he wouldn't listen to me.”

  Marcus Banks was Celia’s boyfriend of the last six months—a gorgeous environmental lawyer who fell in love with Cedar Valley and Celia.

  "About what?" Sheriff Cross said, and his eyebrows danced in an amused fashion.

  At least he was getting some of his good humor back after he'd told Hazel about his parents visiting.

  "Hazy didn't say? He's playing the Ghost of Christmas Present in A Christmas Carol. Oh right, this is your first Christmas in Cedar Valley. Do you want to tell him?" Celia said, and leaned over to wait on the next customer.

  Colton scooted out of the way, and his shoulder brushed against Hazel's.

  "Tell me what? This isn't a lottery type situation, is it? You guys sacrifice someone on Christmas to some pagan deity that no one believes in anymore?"

  Hazel nudged him in the ribs playfully. "Ha ha. If we did something like that, we’d do it at a sensible time like Halloween. No, but every year the town puts on a production of A Christmas Carol with a local cast. That's actually part of the charm of it, I guess you could say. No professional actors allowed. So it has its ups and downs. Violet’s in it though so she should've told you something about it, right?"

  Colton nodded slowly. “I knew she was doing A Christmas Carol, but I thought it was for school. So it's a community production. Milo is playing Young Scrooge, and Violet is playing his love interest, that's all I know."

  Hazel nodded. That sounded like Violet, she told her uncle as much as she had to to get permission to do things, and usually not much more. Typical teenage girl behavior, overall.

  "Well, Celia actually played Young Scrooge's love interest when she was in high school too, so I guess Violet has a good predecessor. Ruth is in it this year, though she wasn't too happy about the part she got," Hazel said and shook her head, then dug into her bagel.

  Celia was too busy to rejoin the conversation, so Colton bustled her out of the crowded coffee shop and onto the enclosed porch. It was heated and less crowded than the rest of CATfeinated. "And what part did you play, Hazy Hart?" he said and put particular emphasis on her nickname, the on
e she disliked immensely.

  Hazel narrowed her eyes at him. ”When I was Ruthie's age, I played the urchin that catches money and buys a goose for Scrooge. That's the part Ruthie has too, but she wanted to play, in this order mind you, either Marley—the ghost at the beginning who rattles his chains—or Tiny Tim."

  Colton chuckled. “Of course, she would. And right. I forgot Marley was a character in A Christmas Carol. Seems a little foreboding, don't you think?"

  Hazel shrugged. "More like a coincidence. Marley isn’t an uncommon name."

  He nodded and chewed thoughtfully on his own breakfast. "So what part did you want to play back then?"

  Hazel grinned. "The best part in the entire play. The Ghost of Christmas Future. I wanted to wear the heavy black robe and point at Scrooge’s tombstone, but my voice wasn't deep enough to pull off the lines. Though he only has one.”

  "Of course that's the part you’d want to play.” His blue eyes sparkled like the surface of Lake Celeste in the winter sunshine.

  Hazel's chest warmed, and she leaned her shoulder against his. "So, can you tell me what your parents are like before you subject me to them. I mean, they can’t be as bad as mine, can they?"

  He slipped an arm around her shoulder and squeezed, and then planted a kiss on her temple. "I don't mean to scare you, but they might be worse than yours. But you'll do great. You’re wonderful, and I know they’ll see it too. I'm actually more worried about Violet.”

  Hazel opened her mouth to say she was too when the girl in question burst onto the porch as if she were summoned. Her shoulder length dark hair was covered with a heavy knit hat that Hazel was sure her mother had fashioned out of multiple colors of yarn, probably several old skeins she had lying around. She wore more layers than Hazel thought absolutely necessary, even in the cold, but the girl was from the coast, and not the High Sierras. She almost looked like a young Maureen Hart with a long lacy skirt sticking out under a heavy coat, and Hazel was sure there were thermal leggings under there, topped off with combat boots, a sweater and a long rainbow scarf. "Good, you're both here," she said, her cheeks flushed from exertion.

  Colton shed his casual demeanor and took on his professional one. He stood up straight and turned toward his niece. "What's wrong?"

  Violet chewed her bottom lip and smoothed her hands over her mussed hair. "Well, I’m not sure how to say this without it sounding like the setup of a bad joke. Scrooge and Santa are having a fist fight at the Christmas Fair."

  Chapter 3

  It did sound like the setup of a bad joke, only Hazel didn't know what the punchline would be. Well, maybe that was the punchline, Scrooge and Santa in a fist fight.

  Pun intended.

  She didn't mention that to Colton however, as he turned and followed Violet out of CATfeinated.

  With a sigh, Hazel shoved the rest of her bagel in her mouth, downed her latte, and followed. The only one who seemed particularly excited about the turn of events was Anthony Ray, who charged into the snow with reckless abandon. While the sidewalk and street had been cleared, it was still ice-slick in places, which meant Hazel had to watch her step. That wasn’t easy with a cat who insisted on scampering ahead like it was a race he was determined not to lose.

  “We’ll get there in a minute. Do you want to join the fight or what?” she asked his fluffy backside.

  Anthony Ray didn’t answer.

  The brightly colored stalls and tents that made up the Christmas Fair shone in stark contrast to the dark pine trees and dirty snow that surrounded them. Even the central fir tree didn’t look cheery in the heavy morning shadows.

  The cold biting into her cheeks didn’t help.

  For so early, the fair was already bustling with vendors setting up their displays, but it was easy to find what she was looking for. She heard the commotion before she saw it, right outside of Santa’s Workshop, which was really more of a set than a building. Behind it was a small trailer for Santa and the elves to warm up in when needed. Hazel didn’t know who was in it now.

  Not Santa, that was for sure.

  He stood in front of the workshop, fist raised at a man in a long black coat and a top-hat. Scrooge, Hazel assumed.

  “Do you think you can best me in fisticuffs, Johnny boy?” Scrooge said and raised his silver tipped cane.

  “I don’t need to beat you to make you sorry, old man.”

  “Old man? I think we’re the same age, and I think I’m in better shape than a fat old—”

  “That’s enough!” Sheriff Cross said, and Hazel started. She thought he would have arrived first, but perhaps he got turned around at the tents.

  Anthony Ray seemed to know exactly where to go, however. He sat in the snow and licked a paw, looking all too pleased with himself.

  Violet crept next to Hazel and squeezed her arm.

  “He started it!” Santa said and swung a fist.

  Scrooge side stepped it neatly, but his boots slipped on the icy walk and he tipped sideways.

  Since Santa’s fist didn’t connect with anything, the momentum threw him forward, and he tumbled into Scrooge, knocking the man over.

  “Get off of me, you big oaf!” Scrooge cried as Santa fought to right himself.

  “I said that’s enough! Do you want me to take you both to the station?” Sheriff Cross said and sounded more like an exasperated teacher than a law enforcement officer.

  Hazel fought back the urge to smile.

  “Not at all, Sheriff. But you might want to have a word with Santa. I’m afraid he’s been partaking in a little special drink, if you get my meaning,” he said and pantomimed drinking from a bottle of booze.

  “I am not drunk!” Santa said and climbed to his feet. His assertion wasn’t helped when he nearly fell over again.

  Sheriff Cross rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Drunk or not, I can arrest both of you for disorderly conduct and stick you in a cell, together, until tomorrow morning.”

  Scrooge stood and dusted off his coat. “Then tell Santa Claus to leave me alone.”

  Santa glared daggers at him, then looked at his own black boots, dull instead of shiny. “Understood.”

  Anthony Ray yawned.

  Sheriff Cross shook his head.

  Scrooge sneered at all of them and walked away, cane tapping on the cement path with an ominous click-click-click.

  Hazel watched him go. “Are you sure you’re not drunk?” she asked John Collins as kindly as she could, considering the nature of the question.

  He righted his beard and glowered. “You sound like my wife. No. I’m not drunk, and I’d appreciate if you’d both stay out of my business.”

  “When you start a fight in public, you make it my business,” Sheriff Cross said.

  John Collins shook his head. “You know why he plays Scrooge in the play every year? Because he is the man. Just like him. Just as bad as Marley Sinclair.”

  “Marley Sinclair is dead,” Hazel breathed.

  John Collins went very still for a moment, then burst into a fit of laughter. “Dead? Marley is dead? That’s poetic justice for you. If the world was a fair place, Scrooge would follow him soon enough.”

  “Is that a threat?” Sheriff Cross said, frowning.

  “Not at all. I wish everyone who deserves it a Merry Christmas. Now, I have to prepare for the children. Excuse me,” he said and walked toward the workshop.

  “It sounded like a threat, Uncle Colton,” Violet said into the still air. Her breath came out in a puff.

  “Yeah. I’ll keep an eye on him. Hazel, I know you’re going to be around here today, do you mind?”

  She gave him her most reassuring smile. “No one is going to have another fist fight under my watch.”

  He kissed her on the cheek gratefully, and they went their separate ways.

  Hazel wasn’t sure if it was the weather, the fact that Marley Sinclair was dead, or that John Collins found it funny, but something sent an icy shiver up her spine.

  She shook the sensation aside and
got to work.

  Once the fair officially opened, the sights, smells, and sounds were enough to drown out the nastiness from that morning. In fact, nobody else seemed to know that Marley Sinclair was dead. Hazel decided it wasn't her place to tell anyone, though she would share the information with her mother.

  Bundled in her gray wool coat and wearing her signature mustard knit beret, Hazel went about doing her job. One of the fun things about Cedar Valley's Christmas Fair was that the players from A Christmas Carol wandered with the visitors and kept in character the whole time.

  Or that was the idea.

  As Hazel watched a group of urchins led by Ruth charge by, she doubted that the actual urchins in Dickens’s book had steaming mugs of apple cider or cotton candy at their disposal, but she let that little bit of historical inaccuracy slide.

  What was important was that everyone was enjoying themselves, or they seemed to be.

  Being the official photographer of an event like that meant Hazel had free reign to do as she pleased, but she did need to be in the right place at the right time to capture the best moments. Though, best was subjective.

  She tried to stay near the players as often as she could. She snapped pictures of them going about their day and interacting with shop owners and tourists alike.

  At one point, she caught Michael and Tess wandering the booths, both smiling shyly at each other. Not a coupling she would've predicted, but she approved nonetheless. As long as they made each other happy, she wasn't going to judge.

  She wandered by the brightly colored booths and took pictures of their wares, making a mental note of the things that would make good Christmas gifts for the people in her life. In the last year she'd acquired more friends than she thought possible in that small town, so her list had grown.

  Like usual, Hazel had put off Christmas shopping until just before the holiday, and it wasn't as if she had a good excuse for that. She hadn't been as busy as she was in the summer, but with the nastiness around Halloween, then how quickly Thanksgiving snuck up on her she hadn’t gotten around to it. Now Christmas was almost here and she’d only gotten a few gifts so far.