Tick Tock Dead: A Jenna Hart Mystery, #1

By L.A. Sartor

It's Christmas and nestled in a valley between two towering Colorado mountain ranges, the old mining town turned uber chic ski resort of Angelcroft is in a battle for its soul.

 

And now the battle has turned deadly.

 

Lifelong resident Jenna Hart is definitely not sleuth material. In fact, she's a custom jeweler who loves working with diamonds and brilliant gems, and this is her busiest season ever. But now her one goal is to find out who murdered her friend.

 

Enlisting the help of those who know the town's secrets — even as they seem to hide their own — Jenna digs deep only to find the dire warnings from handsome newcomer, police Detective Derek Tripp, that she could be risking her own life are prophetic.

 

Nevertheless, nothing and nobody will stop Jenna from finding the truth.

 

Tick Tock Dead is the first book in the Jenna Hart Mystery series. If you enjoy small town mysteries populated with fascinating characters whose lives are far more complicated than what they seem on the surface, join Jenna for an adventure in the charming mountain town of Angelcroft.

• Language: English
• Publisher: L.A. Sartor
• Release date: Oct 25, 2023
• ISBN: 9781962820905

Book preview

1

We’re done, gotta run, hope you like the tree, Emilio Morales said as he poked his head into the doorway of my jewelry studio while shrugging on his parka.

Standing right behind him was a tall bear of a young man. Anything else you need, Ms. Hart? Dig J folded his arms across his broad chest, straining his gray sweatshirt emblazoned with Don’t Mess With Me.

Jenna. Ms. Hart is my mother, I reminded him yet again, giving my best snarky smile, messing with him since I knew I could. Just because Dig J didn’t have a last name, or at least one that anybody knew of, didn’t mean I wanted him to use mine. It made me feel old.

Right, Ms. Hart.

They waved at Carl Zwick, seated across the corridor at his own workbench in the same style glass-walled cubby as mine, then the duo headed down the narrow corridor that led to the back of the store and the parking lot exit.

Hearing a gentle snort of laughter, I looked over to see Carl’s lips turned up in a smile. Glaring at him worked for a second, at least until I could no longer hold back my grin.

It’s futile, Jenna. He still calls me Mr. Zwick.

I know, but it’s fun to see if I can shake him at least once.

Carl, the ninety-something owner of Dubois Watch Repair and Custom Jewelry, grinned wider as he shook his closely cropped gray-haired head. He’s the watchmaker and anything to do with the time pieces side of the business. I’m the jeweler side.

We’d met years ago when I was a teenager and started working here part time making simple beaded jewelry and working the sales floor. After college, he mentored me and then made room in his store for my custom jewelry business. And yes, it’s called Dubois, not Zwicks. I gave up long ago trying to find out why Carl didn’t name the store after himself. After all, he’s owned it for the past sixty-plus years. Right here, same location on the most coveted retail spot in the entire town of Angelcroft. The corner of Main Street and Ski Hill Road.

Carl turned back to the watch he was working on, and I knew I needed to get back to my own work though I couldn’t help but admire the store and this year’s Christmas tree. Emilio and Dig J searched long and hard for the biggest and bushiest tree in the mountains surrounding Angelcroft and then muscled it into its place of honor. Lights were strung but no ornaments hung. Not until the annual party tomorrow night, Christmas Eve.

The big, beautiful green monster took up a lot of valuable floor space between two of my jewelry cases, but it looked magnificent. And that piney, tangy scent permeated the air, completing our Christmas feel.

A few weeks ago, Roz Morales, Emilio’s younger sister who works part time at the store, and I had spent one evening hanging real pine garland over the doorways and window frames, then placed fragrant wreaths in every window. Each with a red bow, giving the store a traditional look. Add in the tree and it was picture perfect for the old-fashioned false-front wooden store here in the old Colorado mining town of Angelcroft, now turned chichi rich ski haven.

All the decorations gave me a glow. I love Christmas. I have ever since I was old enough to know what it was. Mom and Dad never made a big deal of the holiday, or any holiday for that matter, but my friends’ families did.

Now Carl, who I wished could really be my father, always makes Christmas special. True, it’s also his birthday, but it’s more than just his birthday. In fact, he wishes no one would celebrate his birthday. It’s the peace, the light and spirit of the holiday he loves. And he gives back. That’s what tomorrow night’s party is all about.

I blinked, and it was time to turn back to work. Christmas is my busiest season. This year was especially stressful as the ring I was finishing was the most difficult piece I’d ever designed, using the most expensive gems I’ve ever handled. And its owner, Viktor Chernov, was picking it up soon. Like within minutes soon.

Add in that Roz was late for her shift here because her brother, who was supposed to take her place at the family taco truck, had just left here to head there, and a small wave of panic flowed through me.

Sending up a prayer for a few more quiet minutes before the store got busy again, I focused on the job at hand.

I wanted to give this ginormous yellow diamond and 18-karat ring its final cleaning. White knuckling the tongs that cradled the ring, I turned it carefully under the noisy blast of steam until I was blinded by its brilliance. Now it was ready for Viktor’s Christmas wedding in two days.

Anticipating his arrival, I alternated between nervousness and excitement. After all, I was thrilled with the chance to make such an incredible custom piece of jewelry with such premier gems, and my heart tripped triple time thinking about handing it to Viktor.

Nerves came from the niggling doubts that wormed their way into my happiness. Maybe it’s that way for all creative people, wondering if what they’ve done is good enough.

I switched off the loud machine in time to hear the bells over the front door jingle merrily. Darn. Almost made it.

Rozaline Maria Morales has just entered the premises, so stay put. Carl hollered the blessed words from his studio.

I thank all the Christmas elves in the world that you’re here, I yelled at her through the glass of my studio walls as relief flooded me.

Jenna, I’m sorry I’m late, but if Emilio was here, then I was needed at Mom’s. I come bearing gifts as an apology. Roz held up a paper tray holding three huge paper cups filled with, hopefully, something from the best coffee house in town.

Double Black Diamond for you, Lift 88 decaf for Carl and a Sitzmark for me. Higher Grounds was busy, but I texted the order to Maggie on my way over and she had it ready for me, even brought it to the car. Dude, this Christmas in Angelcroft is the busiest ever.

Right now, Rozaline Maria Morales, who only allows her mother and Carl to call her by her full name, is my favorite person in the world. It’s been crazy in here too. And coffee is exactly what I need.

I carefully stuffed the ring into my apron pocket and hustled the short distance from my studio to Roz.

I towered over her with my five feet, eight inches of height. Yep, she’s a tiny five-foot-one with a long fall of luxuriously shiny dark hair. And she can wear those skinny jeans so well.

Hey, I’m not chunky by any means, but we’re total opposites with my messy blonde short bob, blue eyes, and as I mentioned, my height. If we stood next to each other, we’d be Mutt and Jeff. Plus, she’s all of eighteen and I’m pushing the big three-oh.

Still, we click and have become great friends. And she’s my tech wizard to boot. What I’ll do when I have a computer crisis or need a buddy to chat with in the store after she heads to college in the fall is something I can’t think about.

I couldn’t believe that Emilio would make me late, and especially today. She swiveled her head to look at the tree her brother and Dig J had just finished setting up. But I guess it might be worth it. That’s huge.

I nodded in agreement. I know how you feel. It’s gorgeous, but since he was late, I was distracted by customers and with Viktor coming in to get the ring, and—

I can’t believe I’m going to meet CZ Adams, Roz interrupted.

I stared hard at her. She sounded positively giddy. I knew this was important to her, but apparently it was vital.

What? she asked, obviously seeing the astonishment I couldn’t hide.

Err, nothing. I grinned at her indignant look.

You mean you didn’t yet read the book of hers I loaned you a couple of days ago?

You mean that dog-eared, two-inch tome? Written by one of the premier authors of fantasy fiction?

Yep, the one and same.

And when would I have had time?

Roz grinned and apparently I was forgiven as she handed me my cup from the paper tray. Without thinking, I gulped the uber hot double-espresso mocha. Squeezing my eyes against the burn that traveled all the way down my throat, I finally sighed. Both from the fact the drink was so darn good and that the burning sensation was subsiding. Thank you for your peace offering. I so need this. I was in the studio until four a.m. and back in the shop at eight for the fifth day in a row.

I know it’s the season and that explains the dark circles under your eyes, but sheesh, Jenna.

My shoulders lifted and I got an eye roll in return before Roz held up a cup in Carl’s direction. Do you want my mea culpa here or in your studio?

He pointed to her and slowly came around the glass partition of his studio. Which for him, as I said, is designed and equipped for watch repair and clock making. And it’s meticulously clean and organized, which is a bit, okay, a lot different from my less-than-organized jewelry studio.

Obi, short for Obsidian, Carl’s completely black cat with eerie golden eyes, stretched from her perch on the windowsill of his studio, then followed him out into the main sales floor. She knew a sucker when she saw one.

Roz, not me.

I waited patiently until Carl could join us before I flabbergasted Roz with my finished masterpiece. Obi reached her before he did. The cat wrapped herself around her legs, knowing she was the softie in the room. No treats for you, young lady, but I’ll sneak you some tamale tomorrow night, Roz said as she picked up the cat and nuzzled her face against Obi’s sleek fur.

Murrph, Obi purred only after Roz received the cat’s reproachful look for the lack of a treat. Obi only let three people hold her, and they were all in this room.

Roz put her down and handed Carl his decaf, his only concession to his age. Decaf instead of leaded. He still had his glass of Keller-Dubois French wine every night. Not domestic wine, never domestic. I’d asked why French only and specifically that vineyard? Or was it a winery? I never remembered. But anyway, he told me someday I’d know. A very mysterious answer. But I knew better than to press him for an answer. But jeez, after all the store was called Dubois! Did he name it after his favorite wine? I admit that it did sound ritzier than the Keller in Keller-Dubois. Anyway, curiosity was a fault of mine and this bit of mystery drove me nuts.

I waited a moment more until he’d sipped from his cup, then waggled my brows at Roz. Are you ready?

Roz gaped. Is it really done?

It better be, though I wanted one inspection under the loupe. Viktor will be here any minute.

Jenna, you’ve inspected every prong, every solder joint ten times, Carl said. Believe in your craft.

I nodded, as he was right. I had checked the ring over and over. I put aside my doubting gremlins, tried to settle my jumping stomach, and pulled the ring from my pocket, holding it out to Roz.

It’s blinding! Roz rotated the ring under the high-intensity lights hanging from the ceiling, pointing straight down to the display cases. These lights would make glass glow. Gemstones and highly polished metal sparkled. It’s amazing.

The bells above the door chimed again. She handed it back to me quickly so I could tuck it away safely—just in case.

What is amazing?

Turning around, I smiled as Viktor Chernov crossed the sales floor to join us. Nita’s ring with that incredible diamond.

It’s her best work, Carl said to Roz and Viktor, pride obvious in his voice.

Who’s best work? A silver-haired, tall and slender woman asked as she followed Viktor into the store. Unmistakably CZ Adams.

Jenna’s, our custom jeweler. Welcome, Ms. Adams.

You recognized me?

Carl smiled. Roz wouldn’t stop talking about you, and your picture is on the back of each book’s cover.

Roz turned pink and looked all fan-girly just as a deep chime came from Carl’s studio.

I checked my watch and grinned at Carl. Perfect timing.

Naturally. The clock may be 200 years old, but it is after all a Willard.

Yep, worth in the six-figure range if in perfect condition, and this one was.

And since you’re here, Ms. Adams, we’ll go get the clock. Coming, Roz?

I knew what Carl was doing, he was such a sweet man. He knew Roz was totally into CZ Adams’s books and so was making her name memorable for the author.

I just got a Sitzmark from Higher Grounds and haven’t touched it. Would you like it? Roz asked CZ.

I smell caramel in someone’s drink. Yours?

Yep.

Then yes, if you’re sure.

My pleasure.

CZ beamed and placed her huge white designer satchel on the floor, pulled out a cream leather-covered notebook and pen and put it on the counter.

Yes, I looked, and her pen was a Mont Blanc. But really, she was the most normal celeb I’d ever met, and I’ve a met a few in a ritzy place like Angelcroft. Naturally it helped that Dubois is situated right next door to the swankiest hotel in the region.

Carl and Roz headed down the short corridor that separated our studios and allowed access to the small customer restroom as well as the always-locked massive safe/utility room.

The Willard, as you can imagine by its value, is rarely on display, but earlier this morning Carl had taken it out of the safe to give it the once-over and an unnecessary spit and polish in honor of CZ’s visit.

Her trip had been hastily arranged in the last few days. CZ’s agent had called Carl, telling him that the author needed inspiration for a clock that needed to look magical as it was a key component for her current and final book. CZ had discovered Carl on the ’net in an old magazine article featuring Willard clocks. Could she come and see it in person?

Of course the answer was yes. And here she was.

Only a couple of minutes had passed in the flurry of CZ’s arrival, but I realized I hadn’t shown Viktor his ring yet. Head slap.

Totally embarrassed and feeling the heat creep up my cheeks, I turned toward him and saw his broad smile. Forgive me for making you wait. Are you ready?

He nodded.

Then I realized I hadn’t put the humongous ring in its custom red leather box. Sheesh, I couldn’t present it by pulling it out of my apron. Rushing back into my studio, I grabbed the box, nestled the ring in its slot, and hustled back out.

CZ was now standing right next to Viktor, so I guess she’d get to see it as well. Viktor didn’t seem to mind. And to be honest, if all went well, and if he liked it, having a big celeb like CZ talk about my work wouldn’t hurt my career.

Handing him the box, I wiped my suddenly moist palms on my Dubois apron. He pushed the small brass button and the lid swung upward.

Oh. My. God. CZ leaned closer.

Viktor still hadn’t said a word. Gathering my courage, I looked at his face and saw love, a shimmer of tears and happiness in his navy eyes. Nita was a lucky woman.

Perfect doesn’t begin to cover this, Jenna.

I started to tear up as well. The ring, with its whopping eight carats of pure yellow diamond magic cut in an antique cushion style, with another full two carats of smaller white flawless diamonds set as a halo at varying heights around the magnificent yellow former piece of coal was a statement ring without doubt. I had to make the sides of the ring curved in and the bottom of the ring shank flare out a bit as it was so heavy. This way it wouldn’t twist on Nita’s finger.

And diamonds, contrary to what most people think, will chip or even shatter if handled incorrectly. So it had taken me a long time to gather the courage to cut the seats in the prongs, then push those suckers down oh-so-carefully to hold the diamond in its mounting.

Carl and Roz returned with the clock, putting it on the wooden cash wrap counter that was on Carl’s side of the store. CZ moved back to them, picked up her coffee from the counter, took a sip, and sighed.

Now, if the Willard is as interesting as these past few minutes, I’ll have had an amazing day. And that is rare for me.

That seemed like an odd comment to make, but then maybe being a celebrity author wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. I wouldn’t know.

I let Roz and Carl handle CZ’s questions and turned my attention back to Viktor, who kept turning the ring over and playing it under the lights.

Jenna, it truly is perfect. Fit for a Russian princess.

Princess? I knew Viktor or his family’s heritage was Slavic, although that encompassed a literally huge area. Suddenly images of czars and their ladies floating through ornate hallways lined with powdered-wig servants popped in my head.

He put the ring carefully back in its box. Are we still within the quote?

I had the invoice ready, but I hate, literally hate, the business side of … business. Pretty close, a hundred over.

He handed me a check. He must have had it ready to go, so I simply folded it and put it in the pocket of my apron. I’d ring it up in the register later, and I certainly wasn’t going to quibble over a hundred bucks.

Jenna, please look at it.

Pulling it back out, I unfolded it and had to read the numbers twice. That was a heck of a bonus. It’s too much! I can’t accept this.