5 Days 'til Christmas: Spruce Grove Cozy Mysteries, #1

By B. Allison Miller

What do you do when you find a dead Santa Claus in your friend's coffee shop just five days before Christmas? Blogger/barista, Charlotte O'Hara is about to find out!

It is only five days until Christmas and a murder shakes the cozy town of Spruce Grove. When Santa Claus turns up dead the quaint coffee shop where Charlotte O'Hara works, all evidence points to Joe--Charlotte's boss and close friend. But Charlotte knows Joe couldn't hurt anyone, and she sets out to prove his innocence. 

To add to the holiday chaos, Charlotte's brother Danny is flying in from Iceland with a big surprise. Charlotte still must find a substitute Santa for Spruce Grove's Annual Christmas Pageant and Extravaganza, celebrate the holiday with her nutty family, and woo her former high school crush who just happens to be on the police force. Can a blogger/barista save Christmas in just five days? Charlotte O'Hara is determined to try!

 

Five Days 'til Christmas is a 40,000 word novela and the first book in the Spruce Grove Cozy Mystery series.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Barbara Allison Miller
• Release date: Oct 27, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393102984

B. Allison Miller

B. Allison Miller is the author of the cozy mystery series “Spruce Grove Cozy Mysteries,” featuring witty amateur sleuth, Charlotte O’Hara, a blogger/barista who lives in a guest cottage on her parents’ Christmas tree farm. Meet Charlotte and her friends in ‘5 Days ‘til Christmas,’ the first book in the in the Spruce Grove Cozy Mystery series. While the books follow a chronological path, each book may also be read as a standalone story. Allison lives in scenic Colorado. When she isn’t plotting a murder, Allison can be found hiking, playing with her dogs, or experimenting with recipes in her cozy kitchen.

Book preview

Chapter 1

December 20th

It was five days until Christmas, and I certainly didn’t need to find a dead Santa Claus in the pantry of my best friend’s husband’s coffee shop!

Let me be clear, it wasn’t the real Santa that I discovered; it was Sam Payne, of Sam and Sarah Payne’s Real Estate. Sam Payne was also this year’s acting Santa for the town of Spruce Grove’s annual Christmas Pageant and Extravaganza, of which I was a committee member.

My best friend, Cassie Binder, is married to Joe Binder, and they are co-owners of a cozy coffee shop called Magic Beans, in Spruce Grove’s town center. Magic Beans is a great place. It’s an old Victorian house—smack dab in the middle of town. They converted the lower level of the vintage house into a coffee shop. The Victorian is adorable with its scalloped shingles and its pink-frosting exterior, a large picture window, and elaborate wood trim. Magic Beans was all decked out for the holiday with twinkling lights inside and out. There was even an eight-foot Christmas tree inside, courtesy of my parents’ Christmas tree farm.

Five years ago, Joe and Cassie remodeled the first floor of the Victorian, into a cozy coffee shop, and kept the second and third floors as their family home—they have a six-year-old daughter named Max and a Siamese cat of indeterminate age, called Crystal. Cassie works at the shop when she is not working as the librarian of Spruce Grove High School or watching Max.

Joe and his employees, which includes me, brew and craft the most amazing coffee and coffee drinks. My favorite is a cup of their single-sourced, Sumatran coffee served black. I’m just old-school, I guess. Joe teases me and says he’s going to make me an espresso drinker one of these days. We also serve pastries and sandwiches and have free Wi-Fi, which is why, as an old friend and struggling entertainment blogger, I spend a lot of extra time at Magic Beans.

At two-thirty-ish, when I clicked ‘publish’ on my latest blog post about the Spruce Grove Christmas Show of Homes, I finished my break. Reluctantly, I closed my laptop and placed it in its case, carried it to the coffee bar, and placed it in a special nook that Joe cleared specifically for me. I pulled my red overall apron from its hook on the wall and slipped it past my dark brown ponytail. Next, I cleared my spot at the table in the back of the shop. (I save the window views for customers who spend less time and more money than me.) I helped Joe do his early afternoon cleaning—before the next shift of coffee enthusiasts arrived. Would you believe those coffee enthusiasts are middle and high school kids who stop by around 3 o’clock for a caffeine fix on their way home from school? It was the last day of classes before the holiday break, and we expected a lot of customers after the lull.

I cleared my spot, taking my empty coffee mug to the dishwasher, and then I grabbed a clean rag and some cleaning spray and started helping clean up the empty tables. The bottle of cleaner was nearly empty, so I went to the large pantry behind the coffee bar to pull out the giant bottle of cleaner that we used to refill the spray bottle. We still refer to the storage room as the pantry because that’s what it was when the coffee shop was just a house. I found that the door to the pantry was firmly closed, however, and I had to use most of my strength and the weight of my slight, five-foot-six-inch body to force the door open.

The door cracked opened, but just a bit, and I continued to push. I thought maybe a bag of coffee beans had slid off a shelf and blocked the door. Somehow, I eased the door open a bit, and that is when I peered through the opening and saw the body of Sam Payne lying on his back on the floor of the pantry of Magic Beans! Sam’s snow boots were just beyond the door, which is why it was so difficult to open.

I did my best to stifle a scream, and all that came out of my mouth was a loud, Ack!

Are you okay? Joe casually asked. I imagine he was putting the just-washed coffee mugs into the racks beneath the bar. Joe already thinks I’m a bit of a dramatic woman. Maybe I am dramatic, so a scream wasn’t totally out of character for me. Anyway, being a drama queen helps me run the annual Christmas pageant.

No, I am not okay, I replied firmly. You need to call the police.

What are you talking about? said Joe.

I looked back in time to see Joe behind me peering into the pantry. Joe’s a tall man—about six-foot-three. The 32-year-old, ex-high school defensive lineman, could not only block football players, he could block just about any doorway. I pointed to the crack in the door. Joe’s forehead wrinkled and his green eyes widen when he saw Sam’s body lying prone on the floor.

We need to check his pulse, said Joe, as he pushed the door open without a hitch and stepped into the room.

I was still standing near the doorway. Okay, you do that, I replied, not wanting to get too close.

Joe knelt by the body of Sam Payne, who, I forgot to mention, was wearing the Santa suit that was provided to him by the committee of the annual Christmas Pageant and Extravaganza. I could recognize him anywhere, however, because he wasn’t wearing the Santa hat or the white beard, and Sam’s trademark curly red hair and freckles were very vivid against the pallor of his skin. It was easy to recognize the real estate agent. Sam was also wearing a fuzzy, dark blue winter scarf, which was wrapped around his neck and knotted severely—it wasn’t part of the Santa costume.

Joe placed his fingers against Sam’s wrist to search for a pulse. He shook his head and delicately pushed down the scarf around Sam’s neck, placing two fingers against Sam’s pulse point.

He doesn’t have a pulse, said Joe, shaking his head in disbelief. Can you dial nine-one-one? I can’t find my cellphone, said Joe, as he patted his pockets.

I calmed myself down enough to grab my cellphone from the pocket of my apron, and I dialed 911.

The police arrived within minutes. One of the nice things about Spruce Grove is the walkability of downtown. The police station is located only a few blocks west of Magic Beans.

Police Chief Mark Wright—who is also my maternal uncle—entered the coffee shop, followed closely by Officer Brian Gold, a former classmate, onetime boyfriend, and long-time crush of mine. We’re just friends now, but I wouldn’t mind if we became more than that.

Joe took the officers into the pantry to show them Sam’s body. I had the presence of mind to put the Sorry We’re Closed Sign on the front door before the police’s arrival to prevent anyone from entering the coffee shop. I took a seat at my table in the back of the room and placed my head in my hands. Joe joined me and pulled up a chair at the table after setting down two steaming cups of chamomile tea.

I nodded my thanks to Joe for the tea.

What do you think happened back there? I asked, gripping the warm tea mug between my suddenly chilly hands.

I don’t know, Char. I didn’t even know anyone was back there, replied Joe with a confused look on his face.

I didn’t either, I replied, looking up at Joe. How did Sam Payne wind up dead in the coffee shop?

He was in this morning for his usual triple shot of espresso, but we were really busy, and I didn’t notice him leave, said Joe.

I came in around nine o’clock, after the pre-work crowd. I don’t remember seeing Sam either, I said. Do you think he went back to the pantry and was there this whole time?

Joe grimaced. It’s possible. I wasn’t back there all morning. Cassie stocked up before we closed last night. We’ve had more customers the last few days because of the out-of-town visitors here for the Extravaganza.

And Christmas Pageant, I thought.

We sat in silence, drinking our tea. A few minutes later, Uncle Mark approached us with Brian Gold at his heels.

Joe, said Uncle Mark, who was fully in Chief of Police mode, I need to ask you to come with me to the station.

Joe’s eyebrows raised. Am I under arrest? Joe asked with a note of panic in his voice.

No, replied Chief Wright, but we are treating this as a crime scene and a suspected homicide. I need you to come down to the station and answer some questions.

Joe looked at me nervously and then looked at his watch. Classes would be out for the day, and Cassie and Max would arrive home soon.

Don’t worry, Joe, I said, patting his arm, I’ll run interference with Cassie and Max.

Joe briefly smiled and thanked me.

Charlotte, make sure you stick around. I want Officer Gold to ask you a few questions, said my uncle, the Chief of police.

I nodded my response.

The ambulance will be here soon to pick up the body, make sure you let them in, but please stay out of their way, Charlotte, said the Chief, then he and Joe left Magic Beans.

As if I would interfere!

A few minutes later, the ambulance arrived, and two paramedics entered, followed by the County Coroner, Melvin Sharp. He’s about seventy years old, and I think he’s been our coroner for at least 40 of those years. Brian pointed the way to the pantry, and I stepped aside. I did not wish to see them haul Sam Payne’s body onto the stretcher.

Unfortunately, Cassie and Max arrived just as the paramedics were taking the stretcher through the door—with Melvin Sharp close behind.

Char! shouted Max as she ran towards me.

As an adult, I haven’t been around a lot of kids, but I’ve known Max since she was a tiny baby, and I enjoy her—she’s funny and whip-smart, and fortunately, easily distracted. Max hugged me around my waist and didn’t even seem to notice the men leaving the coffee shop with a body in tow—which was good because Sam wore the Santa Claus get-up, after all.

Oh my gosh, cried Cassie—who most definitely noticed the two paramedics and the coroner. What happened? Where’s Joe? she asked in a panicked voice.

Joe is fine. He is at the police station answering questions, I said. Max released me from her hug, and walked to the Christmas tree by the front window, and began playing with a decoration that hung from the tree.

I sat down at the nearest table.

What do you mean? What happened here? said Cassie as she sat down in the chair across from me. She leaned in and whispered so that Max wouldn’t hear her, Did someone die?

After I relayed everything that I knew about what happened to Sam Payne—which honestly wasn’t much—Cassie sat in disbelief.

Suddenly, I heard someone clear his throat and remembered that Brian Gold had stayed behind to ask me questions. Now Brian, with his short-cropped blond hair and his sea-blue eyes, was standing near the table, looking impatiently at me, with his hands on his slim hips.

Now, may I ask you a few questions, Char? Brian said to me.

I guess, I replied with exasperation, "but if you were standing there listening to me talking