Peppermint Pandemonium: A Cozy Mystery (Sweet Home Mystery Series Book 5) Read online

  “Well, this was the best I could do.”

  “It was perfect. I guess you couldn’t manage that ride on a flying reindeer for me though, huh?”

  He turned his head and I followed his gaze over the back wall of the North Pole set.

  “What…?”

  I got a little nervous. A huge hot air balloon was almost fully inflated behind us. A very large elf in a green outfit came out of Santa’s door.

  “We’re ready for you, Mr. and Mrs. Claus.”

  “Shall we?” We both stood up. “Your steed is ready…Mrs…”

  He kissed my lips gently, and all the fear I had about the balloon faded away.

  “…Claus.”

  “Davis-Claus,” I said.

  The people gathered around again and waved as we went through the door to get to the balloon in the back. The elf gave us each a heavy winter coat.

  “It gets cold up there,” he said and got into the basket. Eli and I climbed the portable steps, and he jumped down inside first and then lifted me down.

  “Are you ready for this?” the balloon pilot-elf asked.

  I looked at Eli, and neither one of us could hide our smiles. With my eyes locked onto his I said, “I’ve been ready for this since the 9th grade.”

  ******

  Bonus 1st Chapter of my Newest Series, Whispering Pines: A Sinister Slice of Murder

  Chapter One

  I’ve had it! I can’t take it anymore! I can’t do this for another minute! My whole life was going off the rails. I knew why, and I knew I had to make a big change right this minute.

  It wasn’t even a big deal, but for me right now, it was the last straw, the one that finally broke this camel’s back. My boss and boyfriend at the law office dropped another file on my desk to research and investigate while he concentrated on the fine art of throwing crumpled wads of paper into the wastebasket. I reached critical mass in front of the whole office and blew up like a rogue firework spinning out of control on the Fourth of July. I’d had it up to here!

  “Look, Jason, I’ve given you the best thirteen months of my life, and what have I gotten out of it? I’ll tell you what – nothing! Just a lot of aggravation and a mediocre booty call once a week. I’m finished! I’m finished with you, I’m finished with your law firm, and I’m finished with doing all the hard work for peanuts while you take all the glory and all the money.”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa, Jessie. Settle down, baby. I can fix this.”

  “Don’t ‘baby’ me, you lazy, inconsiderate pig. Your blue eyes and bleached white smile won’t work on me any more. I’ve had it, and that’s all there is to it.”

  “But…”

  “Stop!” I stared him down, and he walked to the water cooler.

  One more word from his mouth and my head would have started spinning around, and the pea soup would have spewed all over the office. I got up and took a deep cleansing breath with my head down and my eyes closed. Then I slowly raised my head and looked around the office. The mood was probably a lot like it might be if a grenade had just gone off…pale, stunned faces everywhere I looked.

  The guys were all white-faced with eyebrows raised in panic and disbelief. No doubt they were all glad it wasn’t them who was the focus of my wrath. None of their eyes would meet mine as I looked around. The women, on the other hand, all had subtle smiles for me with nearly imperceptible nods and winks. And my best friend there, Cammy Jo, walked by just to give me a discreet fist-bump. She’s the firm’s PI.

  I emptied the ten reams of paper out of a box in the supply room and went back to my desk to pack up my personal things. I had no clue where I would go, what I would do, or how I would pay the rent once the twelve-hundred and forty-two dollars in my checking account was gone. But I was 25 and ready to take on whatever life threw my way.

  “J-Jessie…”

  Who was this brave man who dared to speak to the she-devil from hell? I looked, wondering if I should respond, at the frightened puppy-dog eyes of Wesley, the intern.

  “What?” I barked, more harshly than I had intended.

  He swallowed hard and spoke slowly. “Line One is for you, Jess…Ma’am…Miss Delacroix.”

  “Cwah, not croy. Dela-cwah.”

  “Miss Dela-cwah. He says it’s important. Some guy named…”

  “Carlo.” My mind took a short trip through time and space.

  Wesley nodded.

  I hadn’t heard that name or seen the man in three years, and I had never in my life gotten a call from him. Yet, somehow I knew he was the caller.

  I smiled ever so slightly and nodded at Wesley. He looked like a judge had just given him a reprieve on a life sentence, and the color returned to his face as he sat and busied himself with some paperwork.

  Carlo…that’s a name from a previous life that I hadn’t heard for a while. He was an honorary member of the family before I was ever born. Carlo Turnbull was the cook…er, chef…at the old bed and breakfast my family owned and operated in Whispering Pines, about a hundred mile drive from here in Savannah. Well, we kind of ran out of family when my mother was found dead in the solarium there, presumably the victim of foul play, nearly four years ago.

  It happened during my senior year at Savannah State (Go, Tigers!), and I ran the place the following summer. But I was so sad and alone there. Granny had died when I was still in high school, and now my mother was gone too. The memories were too haunting. I even started hearing voices, so I packed up and went off to law school. I left my best friends, Lexi and Madeline, in charge. Lexi – Alexandra Carnigan – ran the Tea Room, and Maddy Warren was in charge of the inn.

  I looked at the little flashing light on my phone and wondered if I should answer it. I had to – maybe there was some development on Mom’s murder. It had never been solved.

  “Hi, Carlo, this is Jessie. How are you?”

  “Miss Jessie…”

  Shivers ran up my spine from the eerie timber of his serious voice and his throaty Cajun accent.

  “…I need you here. You have to come back to L’Auberge Hantée at once.”

  Not a chance. “What’s wrong, Carlo? Where are Lexi and Maddy?”

  “I fired them. They are too stupid to run a business.”

  “But they’re your bosses. You can’t fire them. And those ladies are far from stupid, Carlo.” Come on, dude, all you have to do is cook the food. I did not need another problem right now.

  “We are going to lose the Inn if you don’t come back. Your partners won’t even come into the building anymore. They are afraid of our ghosts, and those are our main attraction. That’s what is stupid.”

  Did I mention that the place was supposed to be haunted? The whole town was kind of a Roswell for ghostly activity. It was a mecca for antique shoppers, and the whole main street for seven blocks was lined with antique shops of every kind, bringing in a steady stream of tourists, many from the snobbish nouveau riche burbs here in Savannah as well as the old-money filthy rich people on Hilton Head and along the coast.

  Granny bought the old abandoned estate during the Reagan administration, and my mother, who was 17 and seven months pregnant with me at the time, followed her there to help run the place. The old three-story Victorian-style antebellum mansion was the tallest structure in Whispering Pines, except for the peanut-shaped water tower, and it sat squarely at the end of Carlisle Boulevard like a stately palace for all to see. They renovated it and, banking on its reputation as a haunted mansion, named it L’Auberge Hantée – The Haunted Inn. It’s easier to pronounce than it looks, and it rolls of the tongue quite nicely: low-BEARZH ahn-TAY.

  “Carlo, I’m done with that part of my life. I have a new career now. Why don’t you just run it?”

  “I am a chef – an artiste – not a businessman. If you will not come, then I will just walk out the door now and leave it wide open for the wind and the thieves and the dogs to take over. I have positions waiting for me from Fort Lauderdale to Boston. I do not need this chaos here. It is the legac
y your family gave to you, Jessica. You are the owner, and this place has great value. Are you coming?”

  The man should get a gig doing voice-overs for horror flicks. I took a deep breath and looked around. There was Jason, already giggling like the dumb ass he was, probably at some porn on Ron Jackson’s phone. And then there was that stack of work on my desk, right next to my box of junk – both presenting a sad commentary on my life. The nearly empty box contained a picture of my doggie, Arthur, plus some worthless memorabilia – a “Kwitcherbitchin” coffee mug from Jason, an extra-large company T-shirt, my coffee card from Espresso Yourself with only two more punches needed for a free cup, and one dusty birthday card on which Cammy Jo had signed everybody’s names.

  Maybe it was Providence. I had nowhere to go a minute ago. But was this what I wanted? I took in a defeated breath and realized in that moment that there was no life for me here.

  “I’ll see you Thursday, Carlo.”

  I said my farewells and was out the door in ten minutes, feeling no regret as the door closed behind me. I would keep in touch with Cammy Jo for sure, but the others? Probably not.

  I took the long way home in my bright yellow 1999 Silverado. I drove by Forsyth Park and stopped illegally long enough to run in and toss a quarter in the big cast iron fountain. So, I was a little superstitious…probably got it from my Granny.

  Then I drove all the way around Lafayette Square, going very slowly past the Cathedral of St. John the Baptist. It always made me smile and filled me with hope and awe. I said a little prayer for Mom.

  I figured I could take tomorrow to find a new roommate for Marcy and then head out on Thursday morning. The bulletin board was always full of guys and girls who were eager to get a rental spot in the singles condo overlooking the Savannah River. I only saw Marcy for a total of maybe 10 minutes a week anyway, usually in her bra and panties and a toothbrush in her mouth, so she probably wouldn’t even notice that she had a new roommate. I drove into my stall in the parking garage and took the elevator up to my condo.

  “How are you today, King Arfur?” I set my box of stuff down in the entryway and took a step into the living room to open the curtains.

  At least my little beagle was always glad to see me, greeting me with excited jumps and little “arfs.” He was a lot of “arf” and not much “fur,” but “Arfur” was a nickname I called him when he was yipping. He was the runt of the litter and kind of sickly as a pup, but I fell in love with him, and Cammy Jo gave him to me a year ago after she sold all the other puppies. Now he’s my best buddy and healthy as a horse. He bounded onto the sofa and then straight into my arms, licking my frownny face into a happy smile. He packs a bit of a wallop now at almost 20 pounds, but he still thinks he’s a pup.

  “Come on, Arthur. Let’s change clothes and get packed. We have to get ready to go to our new home! I think you’re really going to like it there.”

  I slipped out of my law office attire and into a pair of comfy blue jeans. Goodbye, confining business clothes! I tossed them on the bed and then caught a look at myself in the mirror on my closet door. I was surprised to see a smile and bright eyes filled with excitement and anticipation.

  I looked pretty good in my bra and blue jeans, five-foot four and 110 pounds of dynamite. My ice-blue eyes, which I got from my mother, had a nice sparkle for a change, and my brown shoulder-length hair would probably be in pigtails by the weekend. So, I was a little bow-legged and had a lazy eye. Cute, not beautiful, but full B cups and a push-up bra make up for a lot of flaws.

  It didn’t take long to pack up my clothes into one large suitcase and one small one. I had a bed, a desk, a loveseat, and a small kitchenette, so everything would fit in my pickup truck. Hey…I’m a country girl. I like trucks.

  Wednesday was busy. I found a perfect gal to take over my lease on the third interview – a bio student from rural Illinois. She was me with glasses. I couldn’t find any movers to load my truck for me on short notice, so I put on a pair of Daisy Dukes and a tight tank top and recruited a couple of buff helpers from the condo’s workout room on the first floor. Don’t judge me.

  Arthur and I started out singing Taylor Swift and Ed Sheeran and Wiz Khalifa songs (Arthur did the rap parts), but as we got closer to Okefenokee territory we switched to classic country and southern rock.

  “No, Arthur! You got to be Johnny last time. It’s your turn to be the devil. Okay…how about Boys ’Round Here? You can do the ‘Chew tobacco, chew tobacco, chew tobacco, spit’ part. Okay?”

  “Ruff!”

  It seemed like no time at all had passed, and I was smelling the swamp gas and seeing the Watch Out for Alligators signs as we crossed the Elvira River. I could feel all the pressures and stress of big city and corporate life leave my body as we turned up the old highway towards Whispering Pines.

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  You can read Constance Barker’s books for free with Kindle Unlimited. These books are all from my Caesars Creek Series

  A Frozen Scoop of Murder (Caesars Creek Mystery Series Book One)

  Death by Chocolate Sundae (Caesars Creek Mystery Series Book Two)

  Soft Serve Secrets (Caesars Creek Mystery Series Book Three)

  Ice Cream You Scream (Caesars Creek Mystery Series Book Four)

  Double Dip Dilemma (Caesars Creek Mystery Series Book Five)

  Melted Memories (Caesars Creek Mystery Series Book Six)

  Triple Dip Debacle(Caesars Creek Mystery Series Book Seven)

  Whipped Wedding Woes(Caesars Creek Mystery Series Book Eight)

  A Sprinkle of Tropical Trouble(Caesars Creek Mystery Series Book Nine)

  A Drizzle of Deception(Caesars Creek Mystery Series Book Ten)

  Sweet Home Mystery Series

  Creamed at the Coffee Cabana (Sweet Home Mystery Series Book One)

  A Caffeinated Crunch (Sweet Home Mystery Series Book Two)

  A Frothy Fiasco (Sweet Home Mystery Series Book Three)

  Punked by the Pumpkin(Sweet Home Mystery Series Book Four)

  Whispering Pines Mystery Series

  A Sinister Slice of Murder (Whispering Pines Mystery Series Book One)

  Sanctum of Shadows (Whispering Pines Mystery Series Book Two)

  Curse of the Bloodstone Arrow (Whispering Pines Mystery Series Book Three)

  Eden Patterson: Ghost Whisper Series

  The Mystery of the Courthouse Calamity

  The Mystery of the Screaming Elms

  Mad River Mystery Series

  A Wicked Whack

  A Prickly Predicament