The Christmas Puzzle (Pitkirtly Mysteries Book 8) Read Online Free

Jackie Whitmore?’ said Christopher.
    ‘Jackie who?’ said Maisie Sue.
    ‘Well?’ said Christopher to the probation officer. ‘Are you satisfied?’
    ‘She hasn’t said it yet,’ he muttered, but he was already unfastening the handcuffs. Once she was free, Amaryllis rubbed her wrists ostentatiously.
    ‘I’m not Robin Hood, by the way,’ she announced. ‘I’m a Christmas elf.’
     

Chapter 3 FOOP
     
    Amaryllis was almost offended by the incredulous chortles from both Maisie Sue and Zak that greeted her words. But at least Brian MacKenzie slunk away, defeated, almost bumping into a taller man of indeterminate age who was on his way in at the front door. Christopher, who had seemed to be on the brink of being cheered by the whole bizarre incident, looked as if he might descend into gloom again. Amaryllis didn’t like to see Christopher descend into gloom. It didn’t suit his innocent round face.
    ‘Morning, all!’ said the newcomer. He was wearing what could only be described as an anorak, but he started to remove it as he moved through the foyer. ‘Jason in yet?’
    ‘Morning, Bruce,’ mumbled Christopher. ‘He’s in my office… Come in here a minute,’ he said to Amaryllis, and led the way into the office, right on the heels of Bruce, the newcomer.
    ‘Excuse me, gentlemen,’ he said as loudly as he could manage to Bruce and the other occupant of the office, a startlingly handsome middle-aged man – though middle-aged wasn’t the first word Amaryllis would have chosen to describe him – who was standing by Christopher’s desk leafing through a file. ‘I have to speak to Ms Peebles now on a confidential matter to do with the management of the Cultural Centre.’ He held the door open as a signal for them to leave. Fortunately the good-looking man took the hint, put his hand under Bruce’s elbow and ushered him out. Christopher closed the door and locked it behind them.
    ‘That was surprisingly quick-witted and – um – masterful of you,’ said Amaryllis admiringly, as he sat down with a thud behind his desk. ‘You don’t really want to speak to me about the management of the Cultural Centre, do you?... I thought not.’
    She perched on the window-sill and arranged her legs in such a way that he couldn’t fail to notice the green leggings. However, he showed no sign of having spotted them.
    ‘Ah,’ he said suddenly. ‘Jackie Whitmore! He thought you were Jackie.’
    ‘She’s absconded,’ said Amaryllis. ‘Or disappeared. That’s why I’ve got to wear all this green stuff. I’m a stand-in elf. An understudy. A substitute.’ She heaved a theatrical sigh.
    ‘Zak and I met Mr Whitmore outside his shop on the way down the road,’ said Christopher. ‘Jackie’s definitely gone missing from home. I think he wants you to look for her. What were they thinking, casting her as an elf in the first place?’
    ‘It was community service,’ said Amaryllis. ‘I helped to set it up. But Jackie’s own probation officer went off sick and they must have sent that idiot to check up on her instead after Mr Whitmore reported her missing. I can’t believe Brian Whatsit didn’t even look at a picture of her to make sure he got the right person this morning. He just grabbed the nearest elf.’
    She kicked the wall under the window, her indignation reviving. It was the incompetence of the whole thing that angered her most.
    ‘I suppose I’d better get back,’ she said with a sigh. ‘I need to see if Jock’s all right.’
    ‘Jock? What have you done to him?’
    ‘Nothing!’
    ‘What sort of nothing?’
    ‘Well, I may have inadvertently talked him into being Santa Claus.’
    ‘Is talked a euphemism?’ he said sharply. Amaryllis knew that Jock McLean, although he could be extremely irritating, was one of Christopher’s oldest friends. In a way it was probably being irritating that qualified him for that honour – if it was an honour.
    ‘There was no violence involved,’ said