The Holiday Slay(35)
Author: J. A. Whiting

“It’s not like Santa’s elves, is it?” Hope asked. “Did you look up why this one is so valuable?”

“I did,” Derrick replied. “It seems it’s believed to be a favorite of the last Czar of Russia. Somehow, it got smuggled out of the winter palace during the revolution. It’s been kicked around Europe for a hundred years.”

Hope looked at the thing. “If it’s real.”

“There is that. You know as well as I do that clever fraudsters create fakes that look exactly like the real thing.”

“Well, take good care of it,” Hope told him. “I’m assuming Clive’s family will claim it soon enough.”

“They’re welcome to it.”

When the officers had completed their tasks inside the house, Hope and the detective said goodbye, and she closed the door on the cold and carefully locked it. She suddenly felt very tired. Her neck and throat did feel raspy and worn. Carol was one strong woman. She supposed a hot toddy would ease the soreness. If not, it was guaranteed to put her to sleep.

As Hope waited for the water to boil, she added a dollop of whiskey to a glass and some lemon juice from the fridge. She didn’t have any honey, so she added a spoonful of sugar instead, something sweet to cut the taste of the whiskey and lemon. She set the glass next to the stove and sat.

“Are you certain you’re all right, Mrs. Herring?”

Hope turned to Max. “I’ll be fine, Max, and thank you again. That was very quick thinking.”

“In the dark, she would never know it was me.”

“Well played.”

He sat at the table. “I suppose we shouldn’t be surprised. Violence runs in the Thomas blood, doesn’t it?”

“Carol doesn’t have Thomas blood.”

“No, but she married a Thomas, and the brutality rubbed off.”

Hope wasn’t at all sure about that, but she wasn’t about to argue.

“I have been thinking about the Cross of Honor,” Max said. “I agree that might be a clue to track down.”

“I think the same thing,” she said. “And as soon as Cori gets back, we’ll chase down what we can. We’re making progress. It’s slow, but we’ll get there. I feel like we’re getting close. One thing leads to another.”

“You should sleep now,” the ghost said.

“As soon as I drink my hot toddy,” Hope nodded.

“And you should stop talking. Your voice needs rest.”

Hope smiled, showing him that she agreed.

“Well done,” he said. “Good night.”

Max faded to nothing, and Hope rose to pour the hot water into her glass. As she did, she wondered if Carol Thomas would accept the idea that Hope had managed to grab the laptop and clobber the bigger, stronger woman. Probably not. But then, Carol wasn’t about to accept that a ghost had done the damage either.

Hope sat again and sipped her drink. She hadn’t been in Castle Park for even one year, and she’d already helped to solve three murders—and two of them were holiday murders.

For some reason, she wasn’t looking forward to New Year’s.

__________________

I hope you enjoyed The Holiday Slay! The next book in the series, Red Roses, can be found here:

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