Gingerdead House: A culinary cozy mystery holiday whodunnit (The Great Witches Baking Show) by Nancy Warren

Author:Nancy Warren [Warren, Nancy]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
ISBN: 9781928145950
Publisher: Ambleside Publishing
Published: 2021-02-08T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 6

“Yes. I know we have to call the police. But what reason did I have for going in there? And now my fingerprints are on the light switch. For all I know, I trampled all my DNA in there. I’m never sure how good those guys really are. Besides, that door was locked. I can hardly tell them that a ghost had a bad feeling about this room, so I followed her and magicked the door open.”

“The truth is so often inconvenient.” She looked at me. “We couldn’t pretend we never found him?”

I hadn’t liked Wilfred Sneeps, but I didn’t want to think of him left down here to rot. I shook my head. “No. You’re right, we must call the police.”

I shut the door again. “I don’t like to tell a lie, but the only thing I can do is say I found the door unlocked.”

“And why will you say you’d come all the way down here where the storage rooms are?”

I tried to think. “I was looking for the bathroom.”

“What? Down here?”

“It’s really hard to find the bathrooms in this place. I had a terrible time the first time I came down.”

She looked miffed. “Be glad it’s not outside down the end of the garden.”

I so did not want to get into the joys of modern plumbing with a two-hundred-year-old ghost. “Have you got a better idea?”

She admitted she hadn’t.

I went back upstairs. Benedict was chatting away to Nigel Trenton. He was showing Benedict how all the lights worked and he’d managed through some combination of engineering and mechanical know-how to get the little train to move about a foot either way. I left them happily chatting and found Cassandra Rewd, telling Barnaby Tufts that she couldn’t keep the place open late so he could finish the Roman Baths. “You should have timed yourself making your design, so you’d know you could do it.” Even as she spoke to him, she was keeping an eagle eye on the entire room, no doubt making sure none of the children present scoffed any of the candies off the all too delicious-looking gingerbread houses. I went up to her, feeling shaky and ill.

“Cassandra? I’m afraid I have some terrible news.”

She glanced up at me. “You haven’t dropped your gingerbread house, have you?”

I laughed shakily. “No. Nothing like that. It’s about Wilfred Sneeps.”

I thought her lips pursed ever so slightly at his name. “He appears to have disappeared. And his gingerbread house with him.”

“Yeah. About that.” As quickly as I could, I explained the situation to her.

“Oh, my goodness,” she said.

She glanced around as though I might be lying and Wilfred Sneeps might have returned, but of course he hadn’t.

“I’ll call the police. And you’d better sit down before you faint. Go to the break room. I’ll have someone bring you a fresh pot of tea.”

I nodded, grateful. I felt shaky now that I’d passed the burden onto someone else. She seemed exactly the right person to assume it, too. She was both officious and efficient.

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