In Peppermint Peril by Joy Avon

Author:Joy Avon
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Crooked Lane Books

Chapter Ten

Having dropped Amber off at the Hall, Callie decided she needed to know more about the whereabouts of all the people present during the time the murder had been committed. She recalled that Mrs. Moore had shown an interest in everybody, moving to the door as soon as she heard Amber’s scream and pushing her husband to call the police.

Would the inquisitive lady be able to tell her something worthwhile?

Callie drove to the house of Mr. and Mrs. Moore, a cute, comfortable villa on the outskirts of town with a giant lit reindeer in the garden, welcoming visitors. Along the path to the house front, box hedges were also bathed in colored Christmas lights—red, green, and golden.

At the door, two battery-operated Santas sang a Christmas medley, the first just one beat ahead of the other. They swung their paunches, the red velvet of their clothes riding up to reveal some precariously thin wires.

When Callie pressed the doorbell, violent barking started deep inside the house, coming closer and closer to the door.

Callie heard a dull thud as a body collided with the door and nails scratched the wood as if the dog was trying to dig a way out.

She reached down instinctively to pick up Daisy and hold her out of reach of the big guard dog that was about to appear as soon as the door was opened.

However, when the door swung back, Callie spied Mrs. Moore smiling at her. Behind her legs, peeking carefully at the intruders, was an apricot toy poodle.

“I thought you had a Rottweiler here,” Callie said with a sigh of relief.

Mrs. Moore laughed. “You’re not the first to be surprised at Butterfly’s voice. Yes, you have a big bark, huh, girl. But a soft touch. Do come in.”

In the hallway, on a sideboard beside the coat rack, was a towering piece of three wooden layers with a train track and a steam engine working its way up in circles to the highest tier, past tiny houses and snow-dusted pines. On the top, mounted on a turning metal hook, Santa flew in his sleigh, drawn by fluffy felt reindeer. Their red harnesses even had tiny golden bells. Mrs. Moore looked on as Callie put Daisy down to greet Butterfly and hung her coat on the rack. The two dogs approached each other carefully, stretching their noses and sniffing. Then they circled each other, tails starting to wag.

Callie complimented her hostess on the Christmas train, but realized she was in for more when she entered the living room. The space in front of the three large windows was filled by a table decked with a white cloth and fake snow holding a complete village of houses, a church, shops, an ice skating rink, horse-drawn carriages, and small animals. Tiny human figures went about their business, shopping, baking, building snowmen. Everything was lit with the light from miniature lampposts and lights from the houses’ tiny windows.

“What a fairy-tale sight,” Callie said.

Mrs. Moore beamed. “My husband made all of those.

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