Berry the Hatchet Read Online Free PDF

“Mayor Crowley said it was to be at four.”
    The horse and sleigh came roaring down the center of Beach Hollow Road, scattering the few pedestrians who had ignored the barricades like pinballs.
    â€œIt’s going awfully fast, don’t you think?” Gerda turned to Monica, her face creased with concern.
    As the sleigh got closer, they could see the horse’s eyes were wide and staring. It looked terrified.
    A murmur rose from the crowd, getting louder and louder the closer the sleigh got.
    â€œSomething’s wrong,” Monica said, gripping the edge of the barricade and straining to see.
    She saw a man running furiously down the street, his arms pumping. It was Bart Dykema, with his white apron flapping in the wind as he attempted to catch up with the sleigh. His face was bright red, and great clouds of air were coming from his open mouth.
    â€œWe’ve got to stop it,” he yelled to the crowd that was now riveted by the spectacle in front of them.
    Bart put on what looked to be a last burst of energy, like a marathoner with the finish line in sight, and finally came abreast of the heaving horse. He grabbed the dangling reins and slowly the horse came to a halt, looking relieved that someone had taken charge at last.
    Bart stood bent over, his hands on his knees, panting furiously. The horse tossed its head, snorted and pawed the snow-covered road.
    â€œWhere is Miss Winter Walk?” Gerda craned her neck. “She must be positively frightened half to death, poor thing.”
    â€œI don’t see her, either,” Hennie said squinting into the distance.
    A small crowd had made its way around the barricade and was slowly gathering around the sleigh. There was shouting and finally a collective groan followed by a piercing scream that sent Monica pushing through the barricade and running toward the sleigh.

Chapter 4

    The shoppers crowding Cranberry Cove’s sidewalks forgot what they were doing or had been about to do and surged toward the sleigh, shopping bags swinging and slapping against their thighs, mouths circled into identical startled
O’
s.
    Monica managed to maneuver her way through the crowd, softly murmuring “Excuse me” as she went but occasionally employing a sharp elbow to get through a tight spot. She had no idea what she would do when she reached the sleigh, but she felt a strong need to find out what was going on.
    She finally managed to get to the front of the crowd and when she saw the sight in the sleigh, her hand flew to her mouth as if of its own accord, and she stifled the gasp that rose to her lips.
    Preston Crowley was the only occupant of the sleigh—Miss Winter Walk was nowhere to be seen. He was dressedin an elegant black coat that looked like cashmere to Monica, although she was hardly an expert in the matter, cashmere being well out of her price range. He had on a skillfully knotted silk and wool scarf in a discrete paisley pattern, with touches of red, at his neck, and he sported buttery soft black leather gloves on his surprisingly small hands.
    His head was tilted back against the seat of the sleigh, revealing an expanse of white, carefully shaven throat. Monica could have sworn there was a smile on his face. It was completely at odds with the knife that stuck out of his neck at a jaunty angle.
    By now, shopkeepers were coming out of their stores, standing in the chill wind in their shirtsleeves, their arms wrapped around themselves for warmth. Monica saw the VanVelsen twins standing on the edge of the crowd, the round circles of rouge on their cheeks standing out against the white of their faces.
    â€œSomeone call nine-one-one!” Monica heard the clerk from Danielle’s boutique call out.
    Bart Dykema had finally caught his breath. He straightened up and dug around in the pocket of his jeans. “I’ve got my cell.”
    The tourists gathered around the sleigh continued to stare in wide-eyed fascination, as if