The Case of the Missing Elf: a Melanie Hart Mystery (Melanie Hart Cozy Mysteries Book 2) Read Free Page A

exactly as I’d known he would, volunteering to run a free ad for the DBA.  “I’ll work one up right away. Tell Ginger it will be in Monday’s paper.”
    Dad’s promise of a Monday publication date might sound like an unnecessary delay. But ours was a small newspaper. We only published on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. There wasn’t any way we could get the ad out sooner. I said goodbye to Dad. With my first mission now completed, I headed to the reception desk, where I dropped Ginger’s babysitting problem on our receptionist’s lap.
    “What happened to Barnaby Scroggins?” Betty McCracken asked. “I thought he adored playing the elf.”
    Somewhere in her late forties, Betty had always struck me as the ultimate mother. She not only managed to take good care of her brood, but she also tended to minister to our needs as well. I knew she’d come through for Ginger.
    I explained about Scroggins and how he had come up missing and eventually dead.
    Betty gasped. “How dreadful, and what a shock for Wendy… not to mention you.”
    “Wendy’s devastated, but she’s strong. As for me, I’m beginning to think I’m oddly attracted to corpses. Or maybe they’re just drawn to me.”
    Betty chuckled, then asked, “So, for the moment it’s Ginger you’re worried about?”
    “Frankly, the thought of her trapped alone in a cabin with a drunken Santa Claus and Christmas-hyped kids terrifies me. I told  her she should hire a teenage babysitter to give her a hand after school. Do you know anyone who could fit that part?”
    Betty smiled. “My middle son, Toby, has lots of free time. I’m sure he’d enjoy earning some money. He likes kids, too, and has lots of experience with them. He’s been babysitting for a few neighbors for more than a year now.”
    “He sounds almost perfect.”
    “I hate to brag, but I’m sure he’d do a good  job. I’ll call home. If he isn’t there now, I’ll tell him to ring me when he comes in.”
    I thanked her and headed for my office. It’s a small thing, with plain white walls and a banged up desk, but most days it felt like home to me. It had one thing that was missing in most offices, a large window. That window,  combined with similar ones in Dad’s and Betty’s walls, meant we could all see each other from our desks. That ability worked wonderfully well in a small newspaper like ours where many hands could sometimes be needed to get a paper out
    After settling in at my desk, I checked my email, then opened a blank screen to write an article about Santa’s Cabin and the kickoff of the shopping season.  Tomorrow, I’d have to shoot the photos I’d been planning to take today. But that couldn’t be helped. Then, I’d follow that up by checking with merchants late Sunday afternoon to learn if sales were brisk or sluggish. For now, I’d write up a few tidbits about the day, the decorations, and the number of shopping days left until Christmas. It would serve as the base of my Santa’s Cabin story.
    I decided to wait to start writing up the murder report until Sunday, when, hopefully, Gossford would be able to send some additional information my way. Then, I’d double check with him Monday morning to ferret out the latest details on the killing and update the story.
    In the meantime, I scribbled notes from my discovery of the body into a small notebook. I doubted I’d use any of what I’d seen in a news story. But I wanted to record my impressions anyway.
    I hadn’t been at work long before I heard a knock on the office door. I glanced up to find Gossford filling the doorway. I was stunned. He’d never visited me in my office before. Besides, we’d only parted company a little over an hour ago.
    “May I come in?” he asked rather unnecessarily, I thought. I couldn’t imagine him not taking himself wherever he pleased.
    Gossford proceeded into the room and  sat facing me in the chair beside my desk. “The coroner thinks he may and identified the