A Murder In Christmas: A Cozy Mystery of Secrets and Snow by Gray Samantha

Author:Gray, Samantha
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-10-24T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 8: The Clock Strikes Again

I was just beginning to process the strange clues we’d uncovered about Evelyn Hart and the hidden compartment in Margaret’s brooch when the whole house went into chaos. A scream — sharp, terrified — echoed through the mansion, making my heart skip a beat.

I sprinted down the hall, Iris close behind me, her face tight with alarm. The scream was coming from the direction of Samantha Delaney’s room.

Bursting into the room, we found Samantha clutching her chest, leaning against her dresser, her face as white as a sheet. A heavy, gilt-framed mirror had crashed to the floor inches from where she stood, shattering into hundreds of jagged pieces that glittered under the room’s soft light.

“My God, what happened?” I gasped, rushing to her side.

Samantha’s voice shook as she stammered, “It… it just fell. I was nowhere near it.”

I glanced at Iris, who was already scanning the room. Her gaze settled on the wall where the mirror had once hung. The hooks looked sturdy, undisturbed, not the kind that would just loosen on their own.

“Did anyone see you come in here?” Iris asked, her tone sharp.

Samantha’s eyes flickered with confusion and a trace of fear. “No… I came straight to my room after dinner.”

I took a deep breath, my gaze drifting around the room. Then I froze, my eyes narrowing at a familiar sight — the clock on her nightstand, stopped at exactly 11:11 p.m.

“Look at the clock,” I murmured, pointing it out to Iris.

Iris's eyebrows raised slightly, but she kept her tone calm. “Samantha, has this happened before?”

Samantha’s hands trembled as she looked from the clock to us. “What are you saying? That someone tried to… to kill me?”

I exchanged a glance with Iris. The stopped clock, the hidden messages, the brooch — all of it was beginning to weave an eerie pattern. And now, another attempt on a life, and another clock that seemed to hold the same frozen time.

“We don’t know anything for sure,” Iris answered, keeping her voice gentle but firm. “But I suggest you stay out of your room for tonight.”

Samantha hesitated, looking around, her fear evident. “Where should I go?”

“You can stay in the parlor,” I suggested. “There’s enough light, and it’s close enough to the rest of us.”

She nodded slowly, still looking shaken. “Alright.”

I guided her down the hall while Iris lingered, inspecting the room. I caught a glimpse of her eyeing the hooks on the wall, her expression pensive.

---

After settling Samantha in the parlor, I met Iris back in the hallway. She stood there, her face a mixture of concentration and worry. “Holly, we’re dealing with something strange here.”

“Strange is an understatement,” I replied, glancing back at Samantha. “Do you think 11:11 means something specific?”

Iris looked thoughtful. “It’s too precise to be a coincidence. Margaret’s clocks, now Samantha’s… Someone wants to send a message.”

“Or set a trap,” I added, thinking back to the brooch and the photograph.

Iris crossed her arms, looking over at Samantha, who had curled up in a chair, staring at the wall, lost in thought.

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