A Christmas Caper (Sugar Martin Vintage Cozy Mysteries Book 3) by Shéa MacLeod

Author:Shéa MacLeod [MacLeod, Shéa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: international mystery and crime, holiday mystery, British mystery, british detective, christmas, vintage mystery, amateur sleuth
Publisher: Sunwalker Press
Published: 2019-12-04T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 8

There was only one place to go—the only other door, the one at the end of the hall. I twisted the knob, and it opened easily. Unlocked!

I dashed inside, dragging Tippy along with me, only to find myself in the powder room. I pulled the door to, leaving just a crack so I could see the hall, and prayed fervently that Mr. Morley wouldn’t notice. Or need to use the loo.

The old man shuffled inside and divested himself of his coat, which he hung on the coat rack next to the door. Pulling out a set of keys, he slowly inserted one into the lock of the office door. Mentally I urged him to hurry it up.

Tippy let out another soft growl, and I nudged him, pressing my finger to my lips as if he would understand. Maybe he did, because he fell quiet. Fortunately, Morley must be hard of hearing, for at last he swung open the door and shuffled inside the office as if nothing were amiss.

Unfortunately, he left the door standing wide open. It would be something of a miracle to get past him without being seen.

I glanced down at Tippy and whispered, “Ready?”

I swear he nodded.

Slipping out of the powder room, we tiptoed up to the open doorway. I took a deep breath and edged my way over to peer around the doorjamb. Morley had just sunk into his chair and was fussing with a pile of papers, muttering to himself about where he’d put his glasses. He found them and slid them onto his nose, only to frown at the papers, mutter some more, then get up and totter over to a filing cabinet.

It was now or never.

Tippy and I dashed across the hall like the Hounds of Hell were on our heels. We rushed out the door and down the stairs and didn’t stop until we were standing out on the street with our sides heaving.

I glanced back, but Morley was nowhere to be seen, nor had there been any shouts or any other sign he’d noticed our presence. I almost wilted with relief.

“Now what do we do?”

“Pardon me, Miss?”

Startled, I turned around to find the postman on his bike, staring at me like I’d lost my ever-loving mind. Which maybe I had.

I laughed. “I was just wondering what sights to see here in Upper Snow Falls. I’ve already been to the marvelous tearoom.”

He brightened. “They have the best scones, don’t they? Gretchen certainly knows her way around the kitchen.”

“Indeed, they do.” I assumed Gretchen was Mrs. Snow’s first name.

“Have you tried the bookstore? They’ve got a nice selection if you like books.”

“Oh, I do, especially detective stories,” I assured him.

“Then Bluestocking Books is the place for you, Miss.”

“Excellent. Thank you.”

As he peddled off, Tippy and I exchanged glances. He was clearly unsure about the wisdom of spending an afternoon in a bookstore.

“It can’t be helped,” I assured him. “We can’t go back in until Morley leaves for the evening.”

He whined.

“I don’t know when the last bus is.

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