Gnome for Christmas: A Festive Short Mystery (Coffee Break Cozies) by Celia Kinsey & Red Cat cozies

Author:Celia Kinsey & Red Cat cozies [Kinsey, Celia & cozies, Red Cat]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-11-16T05:00:00+00:00

Christmas Eve dawned clear and bright. Right before Ricky generally arrived with our usual three pints of milk and a bottle of cream, I sent Flora off on an urgent errand. Normally, she would have balked at missing the chance to see her boyfriend, but not after the traumatic dousing they’d received from Mrs. Bamberger the previous day.

When I heard the milk truck pull up outside, I was Johnny-on-the-spot and managed to fling open the door just as Ricky was depositing the bottles on the doorstep.

“Won’t you come in for some gingerbread and a cup of coffee?”

Ricky hesitated.

“Mrs. Bamberger fell back asleep after breakfast,” I told him.

“Is Flora here?”

“No, I sent her out on an errand,” I said. “I want a word with you.”

Ricky came in and sat down at the small table under the window. When I brought him a hunk of gingerbread and a steaming cup of coffee, he said, “Flora isn’t in trouble, is she?”

“Not that I know of. Should she be?”

“No, no,” Ricky said hastily. “I was just worried—”

“Why were you worried?”

“I’m sure you know what happened yesterday.”

“Mrs. Bamberger caught you and Flora kissing and threw a basin full of water on your head. Is there something more I should know?”

Ricky hesitated.

“Does this have something to do with a garden gnome?” I asked.

Ricky was a simple soul, and even though he protested that his apprehension had nothing to do with any garden gnomes, I did not believe him. The truth was written all over his face.

“You’d better be honest with me,” I said. “I have no desire to see anyone fired, but if somebody doesn’t either come clean about destroying Fergal or return him to the loving embrace of Mrs. Bamberger intact, one of us is going to be jobless come Christmas Day.”

“I don’t know what happened to that garden gnome,” said Ricky. “I swear I don’t. I had him wrapped up safe and sound in a gunny sack in the back of my milk truck, but somewhere between Elm Street and Claremont Avenue, he disappeared.”

“And how, exactly, did Fergal end up wrapped in a gunny sack in the back of your milk truck?”

“I intended to return him,” said Ricky. “I didn’t want to get Flora in trouble, you see.”

“I’m afraid I don’t see,” I said. “Why should Flora get into trouble?”

“I thought Mrs. Bamberger would blame Flora,” Ricky said.

“You thought Mrs. Bamberger would blame Flora for stealing Fergal-the-garden-gnome?”

I could have sworn that the previous day when Flora had helped Anthony and I make a thorough search of the grounds for the missing piece of statuary that she’d really had no idea where the gnome was, but perhaps, I’d been hoodwinked.

“Flora didn’t steal that gnome,” said Ricky. “She doesn’t even know I broke it.”

“You broke Fergal?”

“It was just a minor break. When I tripped over him, one of his little hands got lopped off. It was a nice, neat break, and I thought with a little glue, he’d be as good as new.”

“How did you come to be tripping over Fergal?” I asked.

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