S'more Murder by Rosie A. Point

Author:Rosie A. Point [Point, Rosie A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-01-04T22:00:00+00:00

11

The next morning…

Being back in Prattlebark Village the next day was a blessing. We parked in our favorite spot in the town square, opened the side window of the truck, and served our customers who were clad in coats and sweaters. It was warmer in town than it had been up in the mountains, with no snow on the ground.

And the s’more pots, that had been basically ignored by the guests at the event, were a hit with the locals.

“Here you go,” I said. “Be careful, it’s hot. Here, take this napkin.” I handed a customer a s’more hot pot with a napkin folded around the plastic tub.

“Thank you, dear,” the customer replied, fluffing her curly gray hair. “This smells amazing. The perfect treat for such a cold day.”

Bee served customers next to me, her smile back even after Francescan’s meanness and our failure to solve Madeline’s case.

When we’d first arrived in Prattlebark Village, we’d felt the place was full of paranoid people. Now, it was like a second home. Or was it a third? Every small town we’d been to had become a place we’d loved. From Carmel Springs to Muffin to Prattlebark Village—we’d met amazing people.

And terrible ones.

The double line snaked back toward the stores that flanked the square, many of them with cutesy hearts paint in their windows. People in town loved celebrating every holiday. They’d even created a few of their own to pass the time between the main ones.

A tall, dark, and seriously handsome dude stepped up to the counter, and I held in a gasp.

“Stony! What are you doing here?”

The most eligible bachelor in town, who had been at the Valentine’s Ball yesterday, ignoring everyone and eating food, offered me a smile. “Oh hey, yeah, you’re one of the caterers from the resort.”

“We don’t work at the resort,” I said. “We just, uh, helped out.” Or caused a lot more trouble than we needed to.

“Cool, cool. Can I get one of those s’more hot pots?”

“Sure.” I turned to the tray that contained our delicious, melted marshmallows and chocolate and scooped some into one of the plastic containers. I garnished it with graham crackers for dipping and scooping then handed it over. “That will be fifteen dollars, please.”

“Ah cool.” Stony fished out a twenty and handed it over. “Keep the change.” He strolled off, cool as a cucumber.

“Bee, can you take over for a sec?”

“Sure. As long as you promise it’s not so you can chase down Santa Claus again.”

“I wasn’t chasing him down. I just ran into—uh, it doesn’t matter.” I left the truck and followed Stony, my curiosity, as always, getting the better of me.

Technically, Francescan’s Valentine’s Day events weren’t over yet. Just because we had been kicked out didn’t mean they had ended. As the hostess had said, even after Madeline’s murder, the show had to go on. So why on earth was Stony back in Prattlebark Village?

And how come Detective Spasinski had let him go? Granted, Stony hadn’t shown that much

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