The Christmas Caper: A Secret Staircase Mystery Short Story

By Gigi Pandian

Tempest Raj’s next puzzle is wrapped in a festive, Scottish Yuletide package. The Christmas Caper is a locked-room mystery short story from multiple award-winning author Gigi Pandian, and includes two holiday recipes!

A baffling art heist. A mysterious Christmas Market. A thief in the shadows of Edinburgh Castle.

With Secret Staircase Construction taking well-earned time off for the holidays, Tempest Raj travels across the pond, looking forward to a renewed family tradition: celebrating Christmas in Scotland. Tempest’s grandmother has even booked an artist’s flat with a stunning view of Edinburgh Castle. But in the city’s snow-covered, historic Old Town, a recent museum art heist has made chilling headlines. No one can figure out how the thief pulled off the crime. When a family friend asks for help, Tempest agrees to look into the impossible theft—before the festive city’s holiday mood darkens and the Christmas lights fade for good.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Macmillan Publishers
• Release date: Oct 11, 2022
• ISBN: 9781250892959

Gigi Pandian

GIGI PANDIAN is the USA Today bestselling and multiple-award-winning author of the Secret Staircase mysteries, inspired by elements from her own family background. She is also the author of the Accidental Alchemist mysteries, the Jaya Jones Treasure Hunt mysteries, and more than a dozen locked-room mystery short stories. Pandian has won Agatha, Anthony, Lefty, and Derringer awards, and was a finalist for an Edgar Award. A breast cancer survivor and accidental almost-vegan who adores cooking, she lives with her husband in Northern California.

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Cover: The Christmas Caper by Gigi PandianThe Christmas Caper by Gigi Pandian

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I

Tempest’s ruby-red sneakers made no sound as she tread on the cobblestones of Grassmarket, the cozy Old Town Edinburgh neighborhood steeped in history. She caught a glimpse of the castle that loomed over the city center, its mountainous perch formed by an ancient volcano.

The neighborhood had come a long way from its origins as a market in the late-medieval period and the site of gallows for public hangings. It was now a family-friendly destination lined with restaurants, shops, and pubs on street level, with apartments and hotels above. Festive lights strung from one shopfront to the next illuminated the street, bringing holiday cheer to the brisk day that was quickly turning into a chilly night.

And yet …

She paused when she found the narrow, covered alley she was looking for—one of the hundreds of hidden alleyways called closes that lined Old Town Edinburgh. Under the stone archway of the close, she felt as if she’d stepped back in time. The crisp wind sent her long black hair swirling around her face.

In the late afternoon twilight on the winter solstice—the longest night of the year—with the sun setting beyond the castle’s western walls and the massive volcanic rock above her, Tempest felt unsettled.

She took a step forward into the alley and found herself plunged into darkness. She stopped in the shadows, giving her eyes a moment to adjust.

Clink.

Tempest whirled around, sending the tote bag of groceries held by her shoulder slamming into her hip.

Nobody was there.

The wind blew a smattering of leaves past the close’s domed archway, but there was no other motion, and no other noises sounded nearby.

Clink.

Poking her head out of the dark alley, she spotted the culprit. Above, a shop’s sign swung in the brisk wind. Tempest laughed at herself as she rubbed her hip. A squeaking piece of wood. That was all. Why was she so jumpy?

She knew the answer, of course. Until recently, she’d been a stage performer for a living. Her imagination was still, apparently, in overdrive. She’d been paid extravagantly to come up with, and execute, illusions that would have a similar effect on her audience. Making their hearts race with anticipation, then bringing unstoppable smiles to their faces as she pulled off magical feats that were both seemingly impossible and provided a fairy-tale ending. One that, at twenty-six, she hadn’t yet accomplished in real life. On that stage, in front of thousands of people, Tempest Raj had told visual stories for a living. She still did, only on a smaller stage. She was now working for her dad’s business, Secret Staircase Construction, a home renovation company that built magic into people’s homes with whimsical features like sliding bookcases that hid reading nooks and wardrobes that led not quite to Narnia but to secret gardens.

More important to her unease was the memory she was trying not to face: the murder she’d solved, and the implications she was still wrestling with.

Tempest had good reason to be jumpy back home in California. But here in Scotland, four days before Christmas? Nothing could possibly be amiss. Right?

Christmas in Edinburgh. It had been a tradition in the Ferguson-Raj family years ago, before the family curse had divided them. Now that Tempest was no longer a headliner with holiday stage performance obligations, it seemed like the perfect time to renew the tradition.

Tempest took a deep breath of cold air, smiled as she anticipated the week ahead, and pushed all memories of the past aside.

She spun around and continued to the front door of the apartment building. Shouldn’t this alley have a light? Maybe it simply hadn’t clicked on yet, since it was barely dusk.

Crunch.

The noise came from only steps behind her.

She hadn’t imagined the feeling that someone was watching her. Not only that. Someone was following her.

She didn’t run toward the dim natural light at the end of the short, covered pathway. On instinct, she stopped abruptly and took two grounded steps backward.

Oh! A woman’s voice cried out as Tempest crashed into her. The figure stumbled backward and something heavy hit the ground with a thud.

In the semidarkness, Tempest turned to face her adversary.

The older woman stood with her back against one of the close’s stone walls, a broad smile on her face and a suitcase at her feet. "I thought that was you, Tempest."

Sabrina? Even though Tempest hadn’t seen her grandmother’s friend in years, she recognized her immediately, thanks to the tattoo on the back of her hand. Sabrina had long ago inked a bagpipe on her left hand, but in Sabrina’s fanciful version of the instrument, paintbrushes