Slashing Through the Snow by Jacqueline Frost

Author:Jacqueline Frost [Frost, Jacqueline]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Crooked Lane Books

* * *

Cookie delivered her leftover breakfast to Theodore, then I drove us into town.

The temperature was up twelve degrees since yesterday, making it a whopping twenty-nine and rising. The sun was out, and snow fell in big postcard-worthy flakes as I snagged a prime parking space on Main Street. Narrow rivers ran along the curb where today’s sunlight melted yesterday’s ice.

Cookie hopped over the stream on her way to the sidewalk, then wedged her hands into her coat pockets. “What should we say to him?” she asked, eyes fixed on the shop up ahead. “He’s got to be the killer, but how do we confirm it without letting him know we’re onto him?”

“We don’t know that he’s the killer,” I said.

Cookie made a dismissive little pfft sound. “It’s always the husband. Don’t you watch the news?”

“Well,” I hedged, hoping we weren’t about to talk to a cold-blooded murderer. “Steven is her ex, but maybe he’s just another human she thoroughly burned.”

She shook her head at me, disappointed in my naivete. “He moved his shop to Mistletoe last year, and then she showed up here under the guise of reviewing your inn. But we know she planned to review the whole town. She wanted to expose us all as frauds. Why else?”

I pressed my lips together. Cookie had excellent questions. And her theory certainly shed some light on Karen’s desire to tear the whole town apart. She’d done her best to ruin her ex, but he’d rallied. Steven had started over in Mistletoe, and as far as I could tell, he and his shop were thriving. The creations showcased on the shop’s website were magnificent, from stained glass windows to figurines, vases, and everything in between.

Cookie stopped to watch a trio of children racing through rainbows on the sidewalk. A kaleidoscope of colors danced over their fair heads of hair and pale cheeks, thrown through the window at Rose-Colored Glasses.

The little boy wore a superhero cape over his coat that reminded me of Cookie running with her robe.

“You never told me the rest of the story about where you were going yesterday when I saw you outside the bookstore,” I said. “You’re in a choir now?”

Cookie turned up the short walkway to the shop, pausing to admire a set of suncatchers attached to the glass door. “That’s right. I’m participating in an event at the covered bridge on Christmas Eve. You should come,” she said.

My heart skipped. “I love the covered bridge,” I said wistfully. “And McDoogle’s lights make it even more enchanting this time of year. I don’t think I’ve ever been there on Christmas Eve.”

“It’s beautiful,” she said. “Come with me. You’ll love it.”

I followed Cookie into the shop, wishing I could join her on Christmas Eve but knowing it was unlikely. “I promised Mom I’d host an open house at the inn that night.”

“So?” Cookie stopped abruptly, and I nearly barreled into her. “My event starts at dusk. You can be there and still be back before your party.

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