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  HOLIDAYS & HOMICIDES

  a short story collection

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  Copyright © 2025 by Rosalie Spielman, Lena Gregory, Kelly Rey, Anne Marie Stoddard, Jennifer Fischetto, Annie McEwen, Christine Knapp, Misty Simon, Erica Wynters, Jamie L. Adams, Catherine Bruns, Gin Jones

  Gemma Halliday Publishing

  http://www.gemmahallidaypublishing.com

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  A Hometown Christmas Caper (Hometown Mysteries)

  by Rosalie Spielman

  Gossip, Guilt & Gingerbread (Coffee & Cream Café Mysteries)

  by Lena Gregory

  Larceny & Twinkle Lights (Jamie Winters Mysteries)

  by Kelly Rey

  Holidays & Heists (Aloha Lagoon Mysteries)

  by Anne Marie Stoddard

  Ornaments, Surprise & Dead Guys (Gianna Mancini Mysteries)

  by Jennifer Fischetto

  It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Mischief (Northwoods Mysteries)

  by Annie McEwen

  You Can't see the Forest for the Christmas Trees (Modern Midwife Mysteries)

  by Christine Knapp

  Jingle Bell Rocker (Sunny Side Up Mysteries)

  by Misty Simon

  Holly, Handcuffs, and Hearsay (Camelot Flowers Mysteries)

  by Erica Wynters

  Search for the Silent Santa (Ghost Town Mysteries)

  by Jamie L. Adams

  Nothing But Truffle (Cookies & Chance Mysteries)

  by Catherine Bruns

  A Heartland Homicide (Bourbon B&B Mysteries)

  by Gin Jones

  Free Book Offer

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  A HOMETOWN CHRISTMAS CAPER

  a Hometown Mysteries short story

  by

  ROSALIE SPIELMAN

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  I pushed open the door to the High Octane Café and was met with the twangy strains of Lorretta Lynn's "Country Christmas." It flooded me with memories and brought a smile to my face as I held open the door for Aunt Edna. She immediately began humming along with Loretta as she joined the line waiting at the counter.

  "Hey, Tessa. Hey, Edna," Lindsey Bimbeau chirped at us once we were next in line. "Happy Christmas Eve-Eve!"

  "Happy Christmas Eve-Eve to you too, honey," Aunt Edna said to her. "And to that sweet hubby and baby of yours."

  I echoed Aunt Edna's well wishes but also giggled. Lindsey was decked out in an elf hat, and when I complimented it, she kicked up her foot to show me her curly-toed elf shoe.

  "Your holiday regulars?" she asked, taking two High Octane mugs in hand.

  "Yep!" My non-holiday regular was a London Fog latte, but between Thanksgiving and New Year's, a peppermint mocha was my regular. With lots of whip and chocolate shavings, of course. "The Sergeant Santa box did really well here this year." I gestured over my shoulder to where the kids' toys donation box had been earlier in the month.

  "Making up for last year, I suppose." Lindsey pursed her lips, and we exchanged a look.

  Aunt Edna requested a peppermint mocha as well and pulled out her wallet.

  Lindsey turned to her husband, Sean, and handed over the mugs. "Miss Treslow and Miss Harridan would like their usuals." She didn't have to specify. He knew what we wanted.

  Then a dark expression passed over her face, and she leaned over the counter. "Hey, can you hang out and wait until the rush dies down? I need to talk to you about something."

  I frowned and exchanged a look with Aunt Edna, but we both nodded. We were in no rush to get back to home and work—one of the perks of owning our own business.

  Once our orders were up, we took our mugs to a two-top by the window with a mini tinsel Christmas tree, where we could watch the snow fall. I pulled off my backpack, and we shed our coats and hung them on the back of our chairs.

  It had been snowing pretty steadily all day, and off and on for about a week, which was not unusual for northern Idaho. This was the first time we had ventured away from our shared place in several days. We needed a break from our latest car project, a crazy little 1970 AMC Gremlin that we had been hired to restore. Our company, Band of Sisters Services (Call the Shecanics!) did vehicle restoration projects for hire as well as regular mechanic work, but frankly, we needed a breather from the garage. Our company name, Band of Sisters, was a reference to both of us having been in the military—Aunt Edna during Vietnam and myself having retired from the US Army a few years ago. Just another thing my aunt and I had in common.

  "Those plows sure made it hard on folks needing to cross the street," Aunt Edna pointed. The plows had pushed the snow and ice into a mound close to five feet tall in the middle lane of Main Street, New Oslo, also known as State Route 8. Sitting down like we were, we could barely see across the street. There were smaller piles at the edges of the sidewalks where their bounty of snow had been cleared to. "Nick was not exaggerating!"

  My boyfriend, Nick, had warned us about the crazy amount of snow that was piled up. Also a veteran, and a solid type of guy, he was not one for histrionics.

  "What do you think Lindsey wants to talk about?" I asked. I pulled off my knit cap and patted down the flyaways escaping my chestnut braid. At forty-five, I still had my rich brown hair with only a few "sparkles" gracing it.

  Aunt Edna pulled off her matching cap (made by my mother, her sister) and ran her fingers through her short, spiky gray do. Her hair was perfect for her as an active and feisty seventy-nine-year-old. "I have an inkling," Aunt Edna said, taking a sip of her mocha then licking away the whipped cream mustache. "Remember I told you the Prunn sisters were all in a tizzy about some issue with holiday decorations? Maybe it's more than just the Prunns."

  Finally, the line waiting to order dwindled, and Lindsey was able to take a breather. Carrying her own mug, she grabbed a chair and slid it to our table. She wrapped her hands around the mug and stared out the window for a minute. As curious as I was—and now starting to get worried—I just waited for her to speak.

  "So," she finally said. "Have you heard that there's been a few weird things going on along Main Street?"

  I shook my head. "Weird how?"

  Lindsey pursed her lips into a tight line. "Little things for a few nights now. No one has seen anything during the day, but when we come to work in the morning, we notice. Decorations being taken or knocked over. I just worry…" She paused, staring out into the snow again.

  Ah. "You're worried what happened last year is happening again." I took a long sip of my cooled drink before continuing, "The perpetrators were caught, Linds. I honestly think, if anything, it's just kids this time. I mean, who else is getting out and about in this?" I waved a hand at the window.

  "I agree, hon. There is not going to be a repeat of last year." Aunt Edna rapped her knuckles on the table but frowned. She seemed a touch uncertain despite her pronouncement.

  Last year, we'd had absolute havoc wreaked on our tiny downtown. Vandalism, donated Sergeant Santa toys stolen, windows broken, explosions, fires set—and a murder. It was like a Bruce Willis holiday movie spliced into It's a Wonderful Life.

  Lindsey let out a long breath, watching the snow. "You're right. What's the chance of it happening again? And this has been the first day we've had even a decent amount of business. Not many folks outside town are coming in." She flipped back her shampoo-ad worthy long, blonde locks and rolled her neck slowly before standing. "I guess, if anything, it's some bored kid here in town, letting off steam from being housebound."

  I held out a hand to stop her. "Whose decorations have been messed with?"

  A sly grin passed over her face. "I knew you'd look into it. Thank you!" She quickly pulled a small notebook from her apron, flipped it open, and tore out a page and handed it to me. "Here's the list of what was taken from each business's decorative Christmas tree." She held up a finger. "Don't move. I'll be right back." She hurried to behind the café counter.

  "Looks like everyone is assuming we can solve another mystery," I groused.

  "Well, Nug, you are certainly good at it. And we've had plenty of practice." Aunt Edna called me by her nickname for me, a shortened version of her "Little Lug Nut."

  "I guess it's our Army training." I laughed as Lindsey pranced back over to us, a brown bag in her hand.

  She handed the bag to me. "For you-all. A few slices of my low sugar pumpkin loaf that you like so much."

  "Oh, yum. I guess our payment?" I smiled at
her, peeked into the bag, and inhaled the scent of pumpkiny goodness.

  "Well, and a pre-Christmas present." A customer came in, the door doing the ding-ding of an old timey gas station chime when a car rolled in. Lindsey smoothed her apron. "Back to work for me!"

  Aunt Edna and I scooted together to check out the paper she gave us. It held a list, sort of in chart form.

  The High Octane Café—Five golden canning rings

  New Oslo Library—Four call number birds

  A Piece of Quiet—Three finch/wrens

  Good Hair Salon—Two Santa gloves

  Historical Society—A cartridge wreath in a bare tree, with fairy lights and tinsel

  Aunt Edna and I exchanged a long look and at the same time, broke out in singing, "five gooooolden rings!"

  After we stopped laughing, Aunt Edna gestured at the list. "I don't even know what half of those things are. What's a call number bird?"

  "Well, I'm guessing we'll understand once we take a look at the little Christmas trees." I swigged down the rest of my peppermint mocha and waited while Aunt Edna finished hers. Aunt Edna put the bag of goodies into my small backpack while I took our mugs to the wash bin at the end of the counter. Then I pulled on my bag (with some difficulty due to my puffy coat), and we put on our gloves and hats before giving Lindsey and Sean a wave and heading back outside.

  So, first thing to check was the little trees right here in front of the High Octane. There were twin decorated pine trees in planters, flanking the door. The New Oslo Chamber of Commerce had provided each business with identical pots with small trees planted in them to decorate and make the town even more festive. It didn't take long to find a golden canning ring, and I plucked one off for us to take a closer look.

  Aunt Edna stood next to me , and we studied the homemade decoration. It was, as noted on the list, a ring from a small canning jar, covered in gold glitter. An upcycled craft, if you will. I scanned the trees to count three others remained.

  Aunt Edna took it from my hand. "Very light," she said, weighing it with her hands.

  "And very, very glittery!" I held up my gloves, the black knit now covered in gold glitter.

  Aunt Edna chuckled and hung the ring back on the small tree. "Those gloves are infected now. Glitter is contagious, so don't be touching me."

  So naturally, I set my hand on her shoulder. "Next stop is the library."

  She tsked, brushing—or at least attempting to brush—the golden sparkles from her shoulder. Grumbling, she followed me across the side street through a narrow passageway of the shoveled snow.

  "So the canning rings were pretty straightforward," I said. "But I wonder what a call number bird is."

  "We shall see." Aunt Edna hooked her arm through mine, and we took shorter than usual steps as we carefully crossed the street.

  The library had the same small pine trees in identical pots to the cafe, and upon inspection, we figured out what a call number bird was.

  Small Styrofoam birds were the theme of the library's trees. The birds were glittered to the hilt with some sparkly feathers, and old library book cards had been cut to create their wings. Each card had numbers written on it.

  I straightened and noticed a poster in the glass display case by the door, depicting a row of colorful books. I realized quickly the birds' colors and numbers corresponded to a book in the illustration on the poster..

  The library door opened, startling us. It was June Lee, our librarian.

  "Happy Holidays, my friends. Can I help you?" The petite woman smiled up at me, winding a huge knit turquoise scarf around her neck as she walked out. It matched the streak of turquoise in her dark hair.

  "Happy holidays, June! Yeah." I gestured at the trees. "Lindsey told me some of your call number birds have gone missing."

  "Technically, they're Dewey Decimal birds," June said, pointing at the poster. "Call numbers have letters in them as well. But yes, the yellow bird, 600 for technology books." She pointed at the corresponding book on the chart for each she read off. "Pink for 900s, geography, history, and biography. Light blue for 400, language. And…a peach-colored bird for 000, generalities." She turned back to the tree and laughed. "They just flew off!"

  Aunt Edna tittered but put a hand on June's arm. "I'm sorry. Especially since you probably paid for the supplies to make them yourself."

  June gave a little shrug. "It's unfortunate, but I hope whoever took them finds some joy in them. That's what the season is all about, after all."

  I smiled. "Agreed." I glanced around the area, trying to subtly look for clues.

  I wasn't subtle enough for our librarian. June wrapped her arms around herself. "No camera out here. It's in the foyer between the outer and inner doors." She toed at the drifts that had blown into her alcove. "The snow was disturbed the first morning I noticed some gone."

  "It's happened more than one time?" Aunt Edna asked.

  She nodded and rubbed her arms. "Three nights. One, one, then two. I started pulling the pots into the foyer before I left after that."

  "No more disturbed snow?" I asked.

  "I can't say for sure," June said. "It must have snowed heavily the other days."

  "Ok, well, you look like you're freezing." I reached in for a hug, ready to send her back inside.

  "Actually, Edna, the book you requested came in. I was just about to email you."

  Aunt Edna smiled. "Great! I'll get it now since we're already here."

  "I'll look around a little more," I said. As Aunt Edna went inside, I walked slowly to the corner of the building, looking for clues. I wasn't sure what exactly I was looking for, but footsteps or trash left behind, or even the call number birds in a snowdrift would have been helpful. But I saw nothing that seemed relevant to the missing decor.

  Aunt Edna popped back out of the library. "Can I put this in the backpack?" I stopped and stood still while she unzipped the bag, put the book in, then rezipped. "I do love my Christmas-themed cozy mysteries!"

  I turned around when she was done. "I didn't see anything, unless a half-eaten apple is a clue."

  "What were you expecting to find?" asked Aunt Edna, pulling on her gloves again. "A signed note from a thief?"

  I shrugged. "I'm not sure. The call number bird feathers or glitter from a canning ring maybe, dribbled into a trail we could follow?" I pulled the list out and squinted at it. "What the heck are finch wrens?" I asked Aunt Edna before stuffing the list back into my pocket.

  "I see you squinting again. When are you going to suck it up and get some readers?" Aunt Edna raised her eyebrows at me.

  "Eh." I waved her off. "Maybe next year."

  Aunt Edna shook her head with a bemused smile. "Well, then on to the next." She turned to face the road.

  While there wasn't any traffic to worry about, those virtual mountains were a problem. While Aunt Edna reasonably walked back to the intersection between the High Octane and the library, I decided, since there wasn't a moving vehicle in sight, to be a bit crazy and go mountaineering. Getting up the massive pile of snow and ice was one thing.

  Getting down was another.

  I used my hands to clamber to the top then promptly lost my footing and half slid, half rolled down the other side, all the while Aunt Edna making an ooh-ooh sound like some kind of owl.

  Laughing, I climbed back to my feet. "Well, that was stupid."

  Aunt Edna tsked. "You're not a spring chicken anymore, Tessa." Aunt Edna put a hand on my arm. "Are you okay?"

  "Yeah. Of course." I shook off the pain in my shoulder and tried not to limp the rest of the way across the street.