Candy Cane Murder Read Online Free PDF

didn’t want her sisters to be so worried about her they’d try to climb the berm and see what she was seeing.
    â€œSanta’s dead,” she said, seemingly capable of only two-word responses.
    â€œYou mean Wayne?” Andrea asked.
    â€œRight.” Hannah brushed the snowflakes, no two alike, from her sleeve. And that seemed to do the trick because the dam broke and the words rushed out. “Go back to the inn and get Bill and Lonnie. I’ll stay and guard the crime scene until they get here.”

Chapter Three
    â€œH e is just the sweetest kitty in the world!” Andrea-crooned, scratching Moishe under the chin. The moment they’d entered Hannah’s living room, the twenty-something-pound, orange-and-white cat that Hannah had found shivering on her doorstep over two years ago, had made a beeline for Andrea and climbed up in her lap.
    Hannah just smiled, deciding not to burst her sister’s bubble and mention the fact that she was holding a canister of salmon-flavored treats that Moishe adored, and doling them out to him every time he nudged her with his head.
    By tacit agreement, they hadn’t discussed Wayne Bergstrom’s death. It didn’t seem to be an appropriate topic of conversation when they stopped by to check on Bethie and Tracey, and pick up the plate of cookies Andrea wanted them to try. Hannah had pulled Grandma McCann aside to fill her in, but the three sisters hadn’t mentioned Wayne’s name on the trip to Hannah’s condo complex, either. Perhaps it was simply an attempt at avoidance. If they didn’t mention it, it might go away. Or perhaps it was a delaying tactic and all three of them wanted to enjoy their time together for a little while longer before discussing such a gruesome topic. Hannah figured they’d have coffee first, a little fortification with a mug of Swedish Plasma was in order while they tasted Andrea’s cookies, and then they’d talk about Wayne Bergstrom and the distressing sight she’d seen from the top of the snow bank.
    â€œThe coffee should be ready soon,” Hannah said, craning her neck to see if the carafe was full. It wasn’t, and she glanced at the plate of cookies that Andrea had baked. The cookies were pretty, a nice rich yellow with powdered sugar on the tops. They looked good, but looks didn’t count for everything when it came to baked goods.
    â€œI hope Bill isn’t late,” Andrea said, frowning slightly. “He told me he thought they’d be here by midnight to take our statements, but something could happen to delay him.”
    â€œIf he’s really late, you can catch a nap on the couch,” Hannah told her.
    â€œOr share the guest room with me,” Michelle offered. “It’s a king-size bed.”
    Andrea shook her head. “I don’t think I could sleep, not after what I saw tonight!”
    â€œWhat who saw?” Hannah begged to differ. “You didn’t see anything.”
    â€œNo, but you told me about it. And I have a very active imagination. There’s something really awful about Santa being dead.”
    â€œ Wayne being dead,” Michelle corrected her. “Don’t think of him as Santa and it won’t seem so bad. Think of him as that old skinflint department store owner who wouldn’t approve you for a Bergstrom’s credit card so you could charge that luggage you wanted for your honeymoon.”
    Andrea blinked. “You’re right. And that does help. Not that he deserved to die, but I really didn’t like Wayne at all.” She turned to Hannah. “Do you think that’s really bad of me?”
    â€œNot really. As far as I know, there’s no rule of etiquette that says you have to like somebody just because they’re dead. If you didn’t like them alive, you probably won’t like them after they’re dead, either.” She paused to crane her neck again and gave a sigh of