Murder in Christmas River: A Christmas Cozy Mystery Read Online Free
Author: Meg Muldoon
to where the noise had come from.
It was the dog.
Huckleberry had come back.
His fur was dirtier than the last time I had seen him, and there was more desperation in his eyes. He was whining, too. A high-pitched whine that would have melted the coldest of hearts.
And it was starting to snow out there. Large flakes of crystalized snow sailed through the air, carried by a wicked winter wind.
I went to the front and got the pan of leftover strawberry rhubarb pie from the glass case, and went back. I opened the door slowly, trying not to scare him, but it didn’t work. He bolted away into the black woods.
I wedged the pan into the snow on the back porch. The snow was getting blown sideways, and I wished so very much that Huckleberry would stop his skittish protest and just come inside for the night.
It sent a chill through my heart to think of him out in the cold snow, wandering those dark woods.
I called out for him, my voice carried off by the cold north wind into the woods.
“Come here, Huckleberry!” I yelled. “Come here, pooch!”
There was no sign of him, though. I started stepping back inside the shop, when suddenly I saw a shadow moving through the trees in the distance.
I squinted into the swirling snow.
“Come here, Huckl—”
The words got caught in my throat and was replaced with a muffled cry.
The shadow in the woods wasn’t Huckleberry.
Or any kind of animal for that matter.
It was a man.
I rushed back inside and locked the door, my mind racing with fear.
I’d suddenly stepped into a horror movie. The shadow in the woods was lumbering through the snow, and it looked like he was coming toward the shop.
“Damn it,” I said out loud.
Christmas River was a safe place—most of the time. But it was just like any other Oregon town bordering the boonies. Everybody knew about the meth houses out in depths of the Oregon woods. Everybody had seen those kind of people come to town every once and while.
I was a tough girl, but seeing a strange man in the woods behind my shop was enough to jar me. Hell, it would have jarred most people.
I turned off the lights in the kitchen and rushed for my cell. I pressed 9-1-1 into the keypad and hesitated before pressing send. The man was just about up on the back porch now.
My heart was racing out of control as I heard his heavy footsteps coming up the back steps.
“Hello?” a faint voice, muffled by the wind, said. “Is anybody there?”
I shivered. I didn’t know if I should answer. It was obvious that somebody was here, and he knew that. He would have seen the light go out.
“Hello?”
I took a deep breath and tried to steady my voice.
“Stay where you are,” I yelled through the glass, showing myself, and making sure that he saw the phone in my hands.
He walked up to the glass to get a better look inside. And through the heavy snowfall, I got a better look at who he was.
I gazed at his face for a moment.
And when I recognized him, the phone slid out of my hand, hitting the cold tile floor with a crash.
Chapter 5
“What are you doing here?” I yelled through the glass.
“I… uh…” he started, pulling his cowboy hat off. “I followed the dog. Then I saw this place.”
I could almost smell the whiskey through the pane. I could tell by his glazed eyes and confused expression that he was inebriated.
Big flakes of snow were falling into his hair and his thick beard. He shook with a visible chill, but he tried to hide it.
I let out a sigh of relief and wiped my sweaty hands on my apron.
I looked hard at him, sizing him up.
I had the advantage now. I knew who he was.
And because I had that advantage, I decided to do something I wouldn’t normally have.
I decided to open the door.
I picked up the battered phone, put it in my jean pocket, and unlocked the door. I opened it slowly, cautiously.
He looked at me. He was surprised.
I got the sense he had no idea who I was.
“Do you want to come in?” I
It was the dog.
Huckleberry had come back.
His fur was dirtier than the last time I had seen him, and there was more desperation in his eyes. He was whining, too. A high-pitched whine that would have melted the coldest of hearts.
And it was starting to snow out there. Large flakes of crystalized snow sailed through the air, carried by a wicked winter wind.
I went to the front and got the pan of leftover strawberry rhubarb pie from the glass case, and went back. I opened the door slowly, trying not to scare him, but it didn’t work. He bolted away into the black woods.
I wedged the pan into the snow on the back porch. The snow was getting blown sideways, and I wished so very much that Huckleberry would stop his skittish protest and just come inside for the night.
It sent a chill through my heart to think of him out in the cold snow, wandering those dark woods.
I called out for him, my voice carried off by the cold north wind into the woods.
“Come here, Huckleberry!” I yelled. “Come here, pooch!”
There was no sign of him, though. I started stepping back inside the shop, when suddenly I saw a shadow moving through the trees in the distance.
I squinted into the swirling snow.
“Come here, Huckl—”
The words got caught in my throat and was replaced with a muffled cry.
The shadow in the woods wasn’t Huckleberry.
Or any kind of animal for that matter.
It was a man.
I rushed back inside and locked the door, my mind racing with fear.
I’d suddenly stepped into a horror movie. The shadow in the woods was lumbering through the snow, and it looked like he was coming toward the shop.
“Damn it,” I said out loud.
Christmas River was a safe place—most of the time. But it was just like any other Oregon town bordering the boonies. Everybody knew about the meth houses out in depths of the Oregon woods. Everybody had seen those kind of people come to town every once and while.
I was a tough girl, but seeing a strange man in the woods behind my shop was enough to jar me. Hell, it would have jarred most people.
I turned off the lights in the kitchen and rushed for my cell. I pressed 9-1-1 into the keypad and hesitated before pressing send. The man was just about up on the back porch now.
My heart was racing out of control as I heard his heavy footsteps coming up the back steps.
“Hello?” a faint voice, muffled by the wind, said. “Is anybody there?”
I shivered. I didn’t know if I should answer. It was obvious that somebody was here, and he knew that. He would have seen the light go out.
“Hello?”
I took a deep breath and tried to steady my voice.
“Stay where you are,” I yelled through the glass, showing myself, and making sure that he saw the phone in my hands.
He walked up to the glass to get a better look inside. And through the heavy snowfall, I got a better look at who he was.
I gazed at his face for a moment.
And when I recognized him, the phone slid out of my hand, hitting the cold tile floor with a crash.
Chapter 5
“What are you doing here?” I yelled through the glass.
“I… uh…” he started, pulling his cowboy hat off. “I followed the dog. Then I saw this place.”
I could almost smell the whiskey through the pane. I could tell by his glazed eyes and confused expression that he was inebriated.
Big flakes of snow were falling into his hair and his thick beard. He shook with a visible chill, but he tried to hide it.
I let out a sigh of relief and wiped my sweaty hands on my apron.
I looked hard at him, sizing him up.
I had the advantage now. I knew who he was.
And because I had that advantage, I decided to do something I wouldn’t normally have.
I decided to open the door.
I picked up the battered phone, put it in my jean pocket, and unlocked the door. I opened it slowly, cautiously.
He looked at me. He was surprised.
I got the sense he had no idea who I was.
“Do you want to come in?” I
Readers choose
Paul Alan
Jhumpa Lahiri
Jack Canfield
Clemens Meyer
Kendra Kilbourn
Lev Grossman
T.M. Frazier
J.H. Fletcher