Miss Frost Ices The Imp: A Nocturne Falls Mystery (Jayne Frost Book 2) (19 page)

The box of goodies went into the employee break room (after Juniper and Kip helped themselves to a few select items), and Delaney and I settled into my office. Since I’d taken the space over and reorganized, I’d made room for a small love seat across from my desk, but this was the first time anyone who wasn’t an employee had used it.

She took a seat there and I returned to my desk chair. “Can I get you something? Water? Coffee? Something else?” I almost cringed. Why had I said that? What if she asked for blood? She had to know I couldn’t deliver on that request. Right?

“No, thank you, I’m fine.”

I breathed a small sigh of relief. “Thank you again for the treats. That was really nice of you.”

She smiled. “I know you’re under a lot of pressure with this imp business. And you’re already a good customer. I thought it would be a nice gesture. Plus, I wanted an excuse to drop by.”

“You don’t need an excuse. You’re welcome any time. Your craftiness with sugar and chocolate gives you celebrity status in my eyes, so feel free.”

She laughed. “Well, I’m glad you feel that way. I just wanted to check in and see how things were going. I heard through Stanhill that you’d been to see Corette and that she was working on a spell to make the imp visible. And that she’d given you a way to capture it.”

I nodded. “Potentially. So far it hasn’t worked. But it’s only been one night.”

“You’re using sugar?”

“Yep. But tonight I’m going to try something different. Maybe pancake syrup. I’m not sure yet.”

“Let me know if you want some samples of other sweeteners. I’ve got all kinds of stuff at the shop. Agave nectar, piloncillo, which is Mexican brown sugar. Let’s see, what else…” She ticked the types off on her fingers. “Molasses, maple syrup, coconut sugar, corn syrup, although that one is sort of low on my list because it somehow feels so commercial to use that and I pride myself on things having a handcrafted touch.”

“Speaking of homemade…” I took the container of my aunt’s fudge out of my desk drawer and pried off the lid. “You should try this. It’s eggnog fudge. I don’t want to brag or anything, but getting a chance to taste this particular confection outside of the North Pole is a pretty rare treat.”

Her eyes lit up. “Oh, I’d love to.”

I held the box out. “I figure if anyone can appreciate its uniqueness, it’s you.”

She delicately lifted a piece with two fingers, then took a bite that cut the chunk cleanly in two. The next sound that came out of her was a soft moan. “Oh. Wow.” Her eyes closed, and more happy noises spilled out of her. She swallowed and opened her eyes to look at the fudge. “This is insane. Is your aunt some kind of sugar goddess? This has to be magic.”

I lifted one shoulder. “I wouldn’t say she’s a sugar goddess, but she
is
Santa Claus’s wife, so—”

“Jumping jam cakes.” Delaney’s eyes widened. “Are you telling me I just ate fudge made by Mrs. Claus? Like,
the
Mrs. Claus?”

“Yep, that’s my aunt.”

“Wow. Just wow.” She gestured at me with the hand holding the last half of the fudge. “This is absolutely the best fudge of any flavor I’ve ever had. No contest.”

“That’s high praise coming from you.”

She popped the rest of the candy into her mouth and spent a few happy moments savoring it. When she was ready to speak again, she held up two fingers. “Two things. One, you should put a tiny piece of this into the box. If that doesn’t draw the imp, we might be in worse trouble than we realize.”

“Hey, that’s a great idea. And one I totally should have thought of.” But I’d been focused on straight-up sugar.

She waved that away. “You would have.” Then her fingers came up again. “And two, I need this recipe. I have to have this in my shop for Christmas. Please ask your aunt. I’ll happily bill it as Mrs. Claus’s fudge and pay her whatever she wants for the recipe, or do some kind of split on the sales or whatever. But I need it.”

“I don’t know. My aunt won’t even give my mother the recipe. It’s a pretty closely guarded secret.”

Delaney put her hand on her rounded belly and made puppy-dog eyes at me. “Think of how happy it would make the baby.”

I snorted. “Is that even fair?”

She laughed. “The best part about being pregnant is you end up with a baby. The second best part of being pregnant is the perks that come with it.” She hoisted herself off the love seat. “The last time I wanted something this badly, I ended up marrying him. Please talk your aunt into sharing this recipe with me.”

I held my hands up as I stood. “I’ll talk to her about it, but don’t hold your breath. She’s a tough cookie. No pun intended.”

Delaney smiled. “Make sure you tell her I’m pregnant.”

I shook my head and grinned. “You really do play dirty.”

Her mouth pursed in a coy expression. “I just think she should have all the facts.”

I chuckled as I opened the office door. “I’ll make sure she knows.”

“And I’ll make sure to send over a sampling of all the sweet additives I can think of.” She gave me a little wave as she left. “Something will draw that imp in sooner or later.”

“Hopefully sooner. Thanks for stopping by.” I shut the door and went back to my desk.

My phone rang as I sat down. “Santa’s Workshop, Jayne speaking. How can I help you?”

“Princess Jayne, it’s Birdie.”

She’d managed to get my name in there, so I let the princess bit go. “Hi, Birdie. Did you find anything out?”

“Yes, but I’m not sure it’s good news. Or maybe it is. I have no idea what answer you want.”

“Maybe you could just tell me what you found out?”

“Oh, of course! According to the permits on file—see, for an eighteen-wheeler to enter that particular neighborhood, a permit has to be issued and the dates of arrival and departure have to be approved and registered with the sheriff’s department. People in that neighborhood are very particular about these kinds of things. Actually, people in that neighborhood tend to be particular about a lot of things. Not all of them, mind you, but Francine definitely. It’s understandable, I suppose. Well, for example, just the rumbling of the engine of a truck like that can rattle the glass in those old Victorian homes. I’m sure you can imagine—”

“Birdie?” I took a breath and reminded myself that this woman was helping me and very sweet and had no idea she was torturing me.

“Hmm?”

“Did you find out how much longer Francine is going to be in town? Or when she’s moving?”

“Oh, yes! I’m so sorry, I do tend to ramble sometimes.” I heard the clack of a keyboard. “According to the permits I pulled, there’s a semi rolling into town two days from now. It’s from Elite Movers and they’re headed to her house. No doubt to load all her belongings and haul them off to wherever she’s headed.”

Two days was not a lot of time. “You think she’ll be here at least until then, right?”

“Definitely. No way is a woman like Francine going to let her fancy-pants antiques and high-end household paraphernalia get loaded onto a truck without being there to supervise. But then she’ll probably leave right after the truck does. No point in sticking around after that.”

“Okay. Good enough.”

Birdie cleared her throat, then lowered her voice. “Can I ask why you need this info?”

“You can ask…but I’m not sure I should tell you.” I bit my lip. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust Birdie, but again, she worked at the sheriff’s department. And I was technically about to commit a crime. A relatively harmless one, but still.

“What are you up to, Princess?”

I sighed. “I appreciate the info, but I don’t want to involve you any further than I already have.”

“Ahem.” I could practically hear Birdie’s drawn-on eyebrows lift. “Involve me any further in what?”

“Birdie, I just think this is a conversation better left unhad. Especially over the phone.”

A long pause followed. “Are you at the shop?”

“Yes, but—”

“I’ll be right over.”

I shot forward. Like that was going to help. “Birdie, wait—”

The line went dead.

I hung up. This was getting far more complicated than I’d anticipated. My brain was starting to ache. I planted my elbows on my desk, then leaned my head into my hands. If Birdie figured out that I was going to break into Francine’s and rifle through her stuff to see who wanted that imp, there was no way I could go through with it. I couldn’t risk it.

My father might be willing to overlook a lot of things, but getting arrested was probably not one of them.

I sighed, then got up and walked over to the employee break room. The box from Delaney’s shop beckoned. I opened it and stared into the chocolate abyss. It was glorious. I took a deep breath, the majestic aroma instantly relieving some of my stress.

I popped a truffle into my mouth, then snagged a small plate from the kitchenette and added a few more things, including a chocolate cupcake with what I hoped was peanut butter icing, and two frosted sugar cookies that were decorated to look like beach balls. The truffle dissolved on my tongue in a blissful mélange of dark chocolate and raspberry, sending my endorphins to a new, happier level.

The deliciousness also reinforced my belief that Delaney was a freaking genius with sweets. If there was anyone Aunt Martha was going to share her fudge recipe with, it should be her. At least it would be in safe hands. And Delaney could do it justice.

I went back to my office, plate in hand, and wrote myself a note to talk to my dad about getting Aunt Martha on the globe sometime this week.

Halfway through my daily batch of paperwork and all the way through my plate of snacks, Birdie opened my office door. “Am I interrupting?”

Even if I’d said yes, I wasn’t sure it would have mattered. “No, come in.”

She put a takeout bag with a large Styrofoam container in it on my desk. “I brought you some chili cheese fries from Mummy’s.”

I squinted at her, my mouth already watering. I could smell the fried, cheesy goodness. “Is this some kind of bribe?”

She sat in the same spot Delaney had just occupied. “Think of it more like edible persuasion.”

I shook my head in disapproval. But took the box out and opened it anyway. What? You didn’t turn down chili cheese fries from Mummy’s. Not if you had an ounce of decency. I picked up one fry dripping with bright orange cheese sauce flecked with spicy bits of chili and popped it in my mouth. “I still can’t tell you anything.”

She frowned at me. “Why? Don’t you trust me?”

“You work at the sheriff’s department. And you’re the sheriff’s aunt.”

She thought on that a moment. “So you’re planning something illegal.”

“Not exactly.”

“And it involves Francine.”

I groaned. I was having a hard time lying about this. “Birdie, please.”

She shrugged. “I was going to see if you needed some help, but if you’re going to take that kind of attitude, well, then, I guess we’re not the friends I thought we were.” Then she sniffed like she was on the verge of a cry.

Big hairy snowballs. “Birdie, you have to understand why someone wouldn’t want to include you in their plans to hypothetically do something that might fall into a sort of legal gray area. Right?”

She crossed her arms. “I’m not the law. Hank is. And what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” She uncrossed her arms and leaned closer. “In fact, having me involved might keep him from finding out.”

I was on the horns of a dilemma here. I ate a few more fries while I thought it over. They were stupidly delicious. Or they were so delicious they were making me stupid. One of those. Finally, I held up my hands in surrender. “Okay. But is there any kind of confidentiality agreement we could come to?”

She pinched her fingers and ran them over her closed, smiling mouth. “My lips are sealed. Consider me at your service, Your Highness.”

I bit the inside of my cheek, hoping the pain would keep me from laughing out loud. Her earnestness was endearing. “I was thinking I really need to have a look at Francine’s files to see who she was buying that imp for. I mean, someone in town might be in danger. And if I could prevent that and didn’t, and then something bad happened, well, I’d feel awful about it for the rest of my life.”

Birdie gasped. “You’re so right. We have to do this.”

We? “Confiding in you doesn’t mean you can tag along. I’m talking about breaking and entering.”

“For a good cause! You’ll be saving someone’s life.”

“That might be a bit of an exaggeration.”

“You don’t know that.”

“True, but—”

“How are you going to get in? I think Hank has a lock-picking kit in his office somewhere. I can look for it.”

“No, I already have a way in. If you’re going to help at all, what I need is a lookout.”

Her eyes lit up with an odd glow that I suddenly realized was her wolf shining out. “Oh, I can do that.” She lifted her finger for emphasis. “We should have a signal. An alarm sound, in case someone shows up.”

“Sure, that might—”

She tipped her head back and howled. Like, genuinely
howled
. I held on to the edges of my desk, slightly unnerved by the way the low, keening sound cut through me.