The Freak Frost
A Mari Fable Mini Mystery: Holiday Special
A dead body brightened my Christmas Eve after the bulbs on our tree burnt out in a grand finale zap. I got the call right after our fuse blew and apologized to my husband for skipping out on our decorating tradition. Though between the two of us, his eye for interior design was far better than mine.
“Mari,” my coworker said to see if I was still on the phone with her.
“I’m a block away, running up the street to the office now.” My words came out in stutters between my shivers. I’d thrown on a coat, but San Francisco experienced a freak frost today and none of my clothes were warm enough for the blankets of snow and layers of sleet that lined the sidewalk. Someone had dreamed of a White Christmas and it wasn’t me. But the twinkling city lights and town holiday decorations did look lovely against the white fluff.
“Solve this and I’m willing to bet you’ll graduate from intern status to top investigative journalist,” she said. “Good luck my friend!”
I tapped my phone screen and stuffed it into my pocket, but didn’t let go. The warmth of it kept my fingers from freezing.
I hurried to the office door before frost could bite my nose off. Only four people worked on holidays at Bay Side Media and this year it was Pam, Gemma, Finn, and Bossman who drew the short straws. I guess Bossman ended up with the shortest, considering his last holiday alive was one he worked.
I dodged through the maze of desks and computers and out to the back patio, where we’d hold our annual New Year’s Eve party with plenty of booze and news.
Puffs of white air escaped everyone’s mouths like The Little Engine That Could. Or rather the little journalist that could murder. I joined them on the snowy patio and nodded at Pam, our editor and next in line for a promotion that Bossman denied her this past year for no reason other than she took an extra sick day when she caught Mono.
Finn, the sports reporter, huffed and puffed like he was ready to blow Bay Side Media’s office down. Instead, he whipped out an inhaler and shoved past me to return inside.
Gemma sat slumped in a patio chair, unraveling the threads of her scarf and not doing her job as our investigative journalist. Of course, as one of the only four people working tonight, that made her a suspect. Plus, rumor has it, Bossman planned to fire her in the new year if she didn’t stop slandering the people of Bay Side Media in her articles. That’s where I came in.
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“Where’s the body?” I asked, ready to dive in and bring Bossman’s killer to justice.
Pam flicked her cigarette, her whole body shaking with cold, and pointed to a mound of white. My heart jumped into my throat when I realized the pile of snow was a pale mass of frozen Bossman.
“And it was just the four of you here tonight? Nobody else came in or out?” I didn’t want to believe any of my coworkers were capable of this.
Pam nodded toward the investigative journalist. “Gemma popped out for about twenty minutes to grab us all some chow mien and general chicken, but that’s it.”
“We-” Finn gasped, his asthma setting off again even from inside the open door. “We were trapped against our will.” He complained for the millionth time that week about not getting the holiday off, as Bossman promised. Our boss had promised a lot of things that never came to fruition and I wasn’t his biggest fan, but I couldn’t imagine doing this either.
I walked past the two women and inspected the icicles hanging from Bossman’s bushy brows. “He froze to death, which meant someone locked him out here.” I crouched beside the body and observed his huddled state when he had likely tried to keep his warmth in. I knew Pam had the only set of keys.
Speaking of the devil, Pam piped up. “I came out here to sneak a stress smoke and found him like this. Then I realized I didn’t have my keys, so I started banging on the door before I turned into a human popsicle myself. They almost didn’t hear me.” She shot a sharp glare at Finn.
He shrugged. “I like to have the game on loud. You’re lucky it was on commercials.” Finn doubled over in another series of wracking coughs. “So I’m stuck here reporting on hockey instead of playing. Never could handle the cold.”
I stood and wiped my nose before it dripped on my notebook where I scribbled clues. I felt nothing, and it registered that my body was numbing. The wind and snow picked up, chilling me to my bones. I had a few friends who believed in the unexplained X-Files or vampire stuff, and I couldn’t deny that I sensed a little Jack Frost in this storm of supernatural proportions.
“I’m going inside while I take notes,” I said, “I need to thaw out.”
Finn gasped for breath after another round that only stopped when we all piled inside and Gemma slid the door shut. My stomach grumbled. I poked my head into the break room, but it was strangely empty, devoid of any potsticker or fried rice aroma. I sighed, disappointed to have missed my yearly tree decorating tradition and that my warm cider and fresh homemade rolls would be cold by now.
The thought of food only made my stomach hangrier, but I smiled. The answer dawned on me. I pulled out my phone and dialed my husband’s number.
“I fixed the fuse!” He answered with a cheer.
“And I solved a murder. So don’t light the star just yet. I’ll be home soon. I know who killed my boss.” And maybe with a little more practice, I’d solve the supernatural mystery too. Snowstorms didn’t belong in San Francisco. “Turn up the heat. I’m leaving here as soon as the cops arrive. Oh and Kai,” I stopped him before he could hang up. “Will you order some takeout, please? I’m starving.”
Who killed Bossman? And how did Mari determine this?
Head to my website for the answer and an epilogue!