The Mistletoe Secret by Evans Richard Paul

Author:Evans, Richard Paul [Evans, Richard Paul]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Adult, Age Range 2 Older Audience, Contemporary, Romance
ISBN: 9781501119828
Goodreads: 29432746
Publisher: Simon Schuster
Published: 2016-11-15T08:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER

Twenty-one

It didn’t take me long to find my first stop. Lindsey Harman. Her redbrick house, with its white gingerbread trim under the eaves, was picturesque, looking more like one of the Swiss-themed stores along Midway’s Main Street than a private residence. In keeping with the season, it was strung with red and white Christmas lights matching the Swiss-themed elements as well as bestowing a festive holiday feel to the façade.

The house was close enough to the fairgrounds that LBH would have definitely seen a lot of festival attendees. There was a For Sale sign in front, which would also make sense, since she was planning on moving back home.

I walked up to the front door. There was no doorbell, so I knocked. Nothing. I knocked again. After a few minutes without any response, I walked around the side of the house and knocked on a side door. Still no answer.

I walked back to my car and made a notation on my list to return later on. Then I drove on to find the next candidate, Liz Hardy.

This next house was only a few blocks from the first but not nearly as nice. It was dated and looked to be made of old, handmade bricks—the large kind with thick mortar between them. Its snow-laden shake roof peaked in the middle of the house, above the front door, which was beneath a small second-floor balcony with a door opening out of it. There were white shutters and finials over the windows.

The door opened slowly. “Yes?” The man was slightly shorter than me and a few years older. He wore a sweater and thick-rimmed glasses.

“Hi. My name is Alex, I’m looking for Liz Hardy.”

“You are?” he said with a condescending tone. “You’re looking for Liz.”

His response baffled me. “Yes, sir.”

“And how do you know Elizabeth?”

“From the Internet.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes, sir. I’ve been following her blog.”

He just continued to gaze at me with the same peculiar expression, then he said, “All right. Just a minute. I’ll get her.”

He walked back into the house, returning a moment later carrying a bright copper urn. “Here she is. What would you like to say to her?”

I stood there looking at him. “She’s where?”

“Here,” he said, holding out the urn. “She’s in here.”

I couldn’t decide which was worse, that he was joking or that he wasn’t. Either way, it was time to leave.

“Sorry for your loss,” I said. I turned and walked quickly back to my car, almost slipping on a patch of ice. Interesting people.

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