Evil Elves (Cozy Corgi Mysteries Book 15) by Mildred Abbott

Author:Mildred Abbott [Abbott, Mildred]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Wings of Ink Publications, LLC
Published: 2019-12-15T16:00:00+00:00

The following morning was as bitterly cold as the day before, but as Watson and I walked toward the Cozy Corgi, he trotted along, as spry and cheerful as a newborn pup. He’d been that way since the night before, and we hadn’t even had breakfast yet!

As I retrieved the keys with one hand, I used the other to bend down and scratch Watson’s head. “I never dreamed a social event would leave you in such a great mood. Although, let’s be honest, we both know it was more because of Pearl and an endless supply of buffalo jerky.”

Watson glanced up with a hopeful whimper, whether at the mention of Pearl or the promise of buffalo jerky, I wasn’t certain.

“Sorry, buddy. All we’ve got this morning is a cutting breeze and a quick moment for one of Katie’s dirty chais and a pastry before we see if we can catch…” I froze, keys halfway lifted to the door as my brain caught up with why the bookshop was dark inside.

What in the world was wrong with me? I’d simply been going through the motions and moving quickly in the hopes of reaching Trevor Donovan before Marty or Finnegan arrived at Santa’s Cause. A momentary shot of sadness coursed through me, picturing Katie’s bakery, but I shook it off, remembering what her plans were.

Katie was probably already on her way down to Denver, ready to check out her Velluto marble the second the stone-gallery doors opened. And she’d doubtlessly been smart enough to begin her early morning with caffeine. I was also willing to bet the Pacheco twins were more than likely still warm and snuggled up in their beds—Ben probably snuggling with his Persian cat, Cinnamon.

Grumbling to myself, I stuffed the keys back into my purse and then turned to trudge the couple of blocks to the Christmas store. Certainly it was my imagination, but without the promise of the dirty chai, the windchill dipped a good thirty degrees, and though I wore winter tights beneath my mustard-yellow broomstick skirt, I might as well have been clad in only a bikini. That thought only made me more irritable.

For his part, Watson continued frolicking along at my side, clearly not disturbed by the winter wind or the stress of his mother in a two-piece bathing suit. Dogs really did have it good.

I’d left the house early enough—giving time for that elusive dirty chai and pastry—that all the other shops were dark as Watson and I passed. Clearly I was wasting the journey. The elf artist wasn’t going to be at the Christmas shop yet, but… without a second plan, I continued on, passing Rocky Mountain Imprints, Bushy Evergreen’s Workshop, and Victorian Antlers. I glanced through the still dark windows of my uncles’ antique shop, picturing the raucous Christmas celebration from the night before, which only made me think of Athena. Never mind that she was nearly twice my age, I bet Athena Rose could pull off a bikini.

Mollifying myself that given

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