Cozy Mystery Winter Anthology - 5 Festive Cozy Mystery Short Stories Read online

  THE AGATHA FROST WINTER ANTHOLOGY

  5 FESTIVE COZY MYSTERY SHORTS

  AGATHA FROST

  CONTENTS

  About This Book

  Newsletter Signup

  Also by Agatha Frost

  A Holiday Message From Agatha Frost

  Controlling Christmas

  Christmas Crystal Heist

  Candle Crimbo Bash

  Boxing Day Bingo

  Murder on the Christmas Express

  Afterword

  Newsletter Signup

  Also by Agatha Frost

  Published by Pink Tree Publishing Limited in 2020

  All characters and events in this publication, other than those clearly in the public domain, are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Copyright © Pink Tree Publishing Limited.

  The moral right of the author has been asserted.

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof

  may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever

  without the express written permission of the publisher

  except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  For questions and comments about this book, please contact [email protected]

  www.pinktreepublishing.com

  www.agathafrost.com

  About This Book

  Released: December 20th 2020

  Words: 30,000

  Language: British English

  Standalone: Yes

  Cliff-hanger: No

  A winter anthology featuring FIVE brand NEW standalone short stories featuring characters from my Claire’s Candles and Peridale Cafe series.

  Controlling Christmas

  Janet jumped at the chance to direct the local annual nativity play, but not everyone is happy for her. When something precious of Janet’s is stolen during one of the rehearsals at the church, she dives into hunting down the culprit, but will she like what she discovers?

  Christmas Crystal Heist

  For the fifth year in a row, yoga instructor Em escapes Northash to spend the holidays at a peaceful yoga retreat in the middle of nowhere. That peace is broken when something valuable is stolen from one of her fellow colourful guests. Can Em get to the bottom of the mystery before the usually zen group turns on each other?

  Candle Crimbo Bash

  Claire spent years hearing about Warton Candle Factory’s infamous 1999 secret Christmas party, the Candle Crimbo Bash. Two decades later, Claire finds herself at the sequel ready to find out what makes a legendary work’s Christmas party. What she had in mind, however, is a far cry from how things play out…

  Boxing Day Bingo

  Dot usually stays at home the day after Christmas, but she can’t ignore an invitation from an estranged friend to take part in Oakwood Nursing Home’s festive Boxing Day bingo event. After a decades-late reunion, she learns there’s more than bingo on her old friend’s mind. There’s a cat burglar, and with no one taking it seriously, the responsibility to uncover the truth falls on Dot.

  Murder on the Christmas Express

  A surprise ride on a vintage steam train takes a deadly turn when one of the staff is murdered. Can heavily pregnant Julia and her private investigator husband, Barker, get to the bottom of the crime before the police arrive?

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  ALSO BY AGATHA FROST

  Anthologies

  The Agatha Frost Winter Anthology (NEW!)

  Claire’s Candles

  Book 1-3 Boxset

  1. Vanilla Bean Vengeance

  2. Black Cherry Betrayal

  3. Coconut Milk Casualty

  4. Rose Petal Revenge

  5. Fresh Linen Fraud (NEW!)

  Peridale Cafe

  Book 1-10 Boxset

  Book 11-20 Boxset

  1. Pancakes and Corpses

  2. Lemonade and Lies

  3. Doughnuts and Deception

  4. Chocolate Cake and Chaos

  5. Shortbread and Sorrow

  6. Espresso and Evil

  7. Macarons and Mayhem

  8. Fruit Cake and Fear

  9. Birthday Cake and Bodies

  10. Gingerbread and Ghosts

  11.Cupcakes and Casualties

  12. Blueberry Muffins and Misfortune

  13. Ice Cream and Incidents

  14. Champagne and Catastrophes

  15. Wedding Cake and Woes

  16. Red Velvet and Revenge

  17. Vegetables and Vengeance

  18. Cheesecake and Confusion

  19. Brownies and Bloodshed

  20. Cocktails and Cowardice

  21. COMING SOON

  A HOLIDAY MESSAGE FROM AGATHA FROST

  Hello there! Welcome to my first ever anthology! After almost four years of writing fun cozy mysteries for you all, I almost can’t believe this is the first time I’ve written any short stories. What better time than Christmas after the year we’ve all had?

  I’ve had so much fun putting together this collection of five brand new mini-mysteries. If you’re new to my work, ALL of the stories can be read, understood, and enjoyed as standalone stories. However, if you have read my Claire’s Candles and Peridale Cafe series, then I think you’re really going to enjoy seeing some of your favourite characters solving fun holiday mysteries.

  Curl up and enjoy!

  Another note: I am British, and my series are set in the UK. Depending on where you live, you may come across words/phrases you don’t understand, or might think are spelt wrong (we love throwing the ‘u’ into words like ‘colour’). If that’s the case, I hope you enjoy experiencing something a little different, although I believe that anyone speaking any variety of English will be able to enjoy this book, and isn’t reading all about learning?

  CONTROLLING CHRISTMAS

  A standalone story featuring characters from my Claire’s Candles series set in 1993, 17 years before the events of the first book, Vanilla Bean Vengeance (OUT NOW)

  “C ut, cut, cut!” Janet’s voice thundered around the cavernous church with the aid of her electronic director’s megaphone. “Claire, are you even trying? Put some feeling into the lines. You’ve just given birth to Jesus, for Christ’s sake!”

  Standing in the middle of the set arranged where the altar usually belonged at the front of Trinity Community Church, Janet’s nine-year-old daughter, Claire, huffed and folded her arms. The similarly aged children dressed as other biblical figures were putting forth just as little energy, but the director’s daughter had to shine. Linda and her gang weren’t going to stop cutting eyes across the pews with those smug grins on their faces until Claire nailed it.

  “We’ll go back to the top of page four,” Janet called through the megaphone, flicking through the script written in her own hand and photocopied at the post office. “And this time, I want some effort. I’m talking to you too, Ryan! I doubt Joseph would be picking his nose quite so much after a miracle of this magnitude.”

  “Janet?” Eugene whispered, tapping her shoulder from the pew behind as the children continued to butcher her fantastic script with their monotonous mumblings. “I’ve been thinking about the set design again, and I’ve come up with some fabulous ideas.”

  Pinching the bridge of her nose, Janet h
alf-turned, one eye still fixed on the stage. Eugene Cropper was as eccentric as they came with a wardrobe to match, and never more so than at Christmas. Today’s jacket was a deep plum (a similar shade to a new sofa Janet had been eyeing up in the catalogue) finished with a silver-stitched cravat and a sprig of holly in his top pocket. As gaudily festive as it was, he didn’t confine his costume-like outfits to the holiday season.

  “Claire, stand up straight!” Janet barked through the megaphone before turning back to Eugene. In a low voice, she said, “Look, Eugene. There’s a reason Reverend McNally put me in charge of directing this year’s Nativity play.”

  “He did make me deputy director,” Eugene jumped in while she sipped the tea he had fetched for her. “I’ve been in almost every amateur dramatics production in a five-mile radius in the last decade.”

  “And I’m sure you’re a fine actor,” she continued after draining the last of the lukewarm beverage. “But here, he wants a director. He wants things to be done properly, and I’m the best woman for the job.” Her gaze drifted to the stage, the megaphone back to her lips. “Claire! You’re going to give yourself a hump with all that slouching!”

  Janet turned back to Eugene, gaze drifting right past his thick, blow-dried hair to the large doors at the back as one creaked open. She couldn’t help but smile nervously at the sight of Sergeant Alan Harris hurrying in from the snowy night.

  “Let’s take a five-minute break,” Janet announced before placing the megaphone on the bench with her script. “Some of you might want to use that time to go over your lines. And yes, I’m still looking at you, Ryan Tyler.”

  Before Eugene could push the matter, she shuffled down the row and left the warm glow of the three-bar gas heater pointed especially at her director’s area. Pulling her long wool coat closed, she hurried down the dark and draughty aisle to the bright lights of the foyer.

  Black police hat tucked under his arm, her husband, Alan, watched the Christmas lights chase each other around the tree. He didn’t immediately turn around, and as much as Janet wanted good news, she suspected she was in for something altogether different.

  “I didn’t get it,” he said, turning and offering a tight smile. “They gave it to George.”

  “George Jackson?” Janet could barely believe her ears. “They’re making George the new detective inspector? That’s outrageous! You’re twice the sergeant he is.”

  Janet slid her arms through Alan’s and hugged him tight from behind. Leaning his head back on her shoulder, her short husband smiled up at her before kissing her hand.

  “Chief doesn’t think it’s my time.”

  “This is the second time they’ve passed you up for promotion,” she said, pulling away from the hug with a sigh. “It’s not right. Nobody works harder than you, and everyone knows it. You’ll be hitting retirement age before they give you the chance to show you’re the perfect man for the job.”

  “I’ve only just turned forty,” he said with a chuckle as he turned away from the tree and dusted mushy snow from the top of his hat. “One day.” He returned his hat to his head and peered into the church. “Enough about me. How’s our little actress doing?”

  “Terrible,” Janet whispered, peering over her shoulder as the kids mucked around on the stage, not a script in sight. “I’m never going to whip them into shape before the big show.”

  “Of course you will,” Alan assured her, resting a hand on her cheek. “If anyone can pull this together, it’s you. Just…”

  His voice trailed off, leaving Janet’s imagination to fill in the blanks.

  “Has Claire been moaning again?” Janet pursed her lips. “You two are always sneaking off to talk in the shed at the bottom of the garden. Don’t think I haven’t noticed, Alan Harris.”

  “Fathers and their daughters.” He blew warm air into his cupped hands. “And she hasn’t said anything, actually, but I know what you can be like. You’re a passionate woman, Janet. Just remember, it’s a children’s Nativity play at the local church. It should be fun.”

  “I am having fun.”

  “Fun for them, love.”

  “Hmm.”

  “I don’t think they hand out Best Director Oscars for Nativity plays.” Alan laughed as he glanced past her into the church. “Is there anything hot in there? I’m frozen to the bone. Walked all the way down from the station in this.”

  Heading back into the church, Janet pointed Alan towards the hot tea and coffee urns Jane from the tearoom had leant them for their rehearsal meetings. Most of the parents were mingling by the table and nibbling on mince pies from foil tins, Linda at the centre. Janet felt their eyes on her as she returned to the pew, and she knew exactly what they’d be saying.

  For Janet, it was water off a duck’s back.

  If a job needed doing, she’d do it properly.

  Shuffling down the long pew, she went to grab for her megaphone to continue doing that job, but her hand met thin air. She scanned the row, but the solid chunk of grey and cream plastic was nowhere to be seen. Wondering if it had fallen on the floor, Janet crouched and looked around.

  The megaphone wasn’t there.

  But the script was.

  “Who did this?” Janet cried, holding up the remnants of her torn-up script. “Who has my megaphone?”

  Janet planted the backs of her wrists on her hips as she glared at the gawking faces of children and parents both. Their conversations dried out to whispers and then nothing.

  “Janet?” Alan approached, a steaming Styrofoam cup of tea held in his hands. “What’s the matter?”

  “A crime has been committed.” She held out the torn-up pieces of the script scrunched into her fist. “My script has been vandalised, and my megaphone has been stolen!”

  The anticipated outpouring of concern didn’t come. Almost everyone immediately resumed their conversations as though they had more important things to talk about.

  “Let’s not jump to conclusions, love.” Alan shuffled down the row, eyes on the pews to either side. “Perhaps you misplaced it?”

  “Does that sound like something I’d do?”

  “Admittedly, no.”

  “Ripped up,” she said, tossing the pieces of her script onto the bench. “Someone has stolen my megaphone and they’ve left behind a clear message.” She paused and pulled her coat tightly around her as she scanned the church. “I fear my life may be in grave danger.”

  “Now that is jumping to a conclusion.” Alan patted his police badge with a wink. “Why don’t I ask around? I’m sure it’ll turn up.”

  Alan shuffled down the row and headed back towards the parents on the edge of the group by the drinks table. Janet wasn’t going to stand around and wait for the culprit to lie to her husband. She marched off in the direction of plum velvet.

  “I love the smell of old churches, don’t you?” Eugene dramatically inhaled through his nostrils as he dried his damp hands with a blue paper towel. “Would make a marvellous candle scent, don’t you think?”

  “Stop playing games,” Janet said in a low voice, hands firmly planted on her hips. “I know you took it.” She scanned him, but no megaphone-shaped items bulged from his person. Nodding at the bathroom door behind him, she said, “It’s in there, isn’t it?”

  Without waiting for him to reply, Janet barged into the freezing men’s bathroom. Like the ladies’ next door, it had a powerful smell of comforting pine disinfectant, but something else in the air made her nostrils wrinkle, and it wasn’t the musky church smell.

  “Janet, have you lost your mind?” Eugene gasped as he ran in after her. “This is certainly a side to you I have never seen, and I daresay I rather like it, but I’m afraid I have absolutely no idea what is going on.”

  “The megaphone,” she barked over her shoulder as she searched the first cubicle. “You’ve taken it.”

  “Why in God’s name would I do that?”

  “Because you’re jealous,” she said as she moved to the second stall. “You’re je
alous I was chosen to direct. Everyone knows you were desperate to take the role.”

  “I just have so much vision!” he cried, clenching his fists. “A production of my own to direct – even if it is the local Nativity – is something I’ve been dying to tick off the bucket list.”

  “You’re a politician.”

  “And I won’t be forever,” he took a step forward. “Director, please. I think we could really jazz things up if we just—”

  Janet cut him off by rattling the handle of the last stall. It took her a moment to realise it was locked because someone was inside.

  “Goodness me!” Reverend McNally cried from within. “Janet? Is that you?”

  “Sorry, Reverend.” Janet winced before crossing the points and shooting another silent apology upwards. “Don’t suppose there’s a megaphone in there?”

  “Why in heaven would I have such an item in here at a time like this?” he replied curtly. “If you wouldn’t mind, Mrs Harris…”

  More than a little embarrassed, Janet hurried out of the bathroom, but not without peering under the sinks on her way out. Under his mane-like beard, Eugene’s grin stretched from ear to ear.

  “You’re rather exciting, aren’t you?” he said as he followed her out. “Maybe you’re not as old before your time as I thought.”

  “I am not old before my time.”

  “I bet you’re wearing sensible trousers and a cardigan under that coat.”

  “So?” Janet pulled her coat tighter, annoyed he’d guessed so correctly. “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “Nothing, my dear,” Eugene said with a hearty pat on her shoulder. “Just take it from someone a little older – it’s okay to loosen up sometimes. You’re never too old to have some fun. I don’t want to take the play from you; I simply want to help. And I did not take your megaphone. Sabotage is not in my nature.”

  From the little she knew about the extravagant local MP, she had a feeling he was telling the truth. Despite his constant attempts to interfere with the play, Janet had never heard anyone say a bad word about him.