Christmas Puds & Killers Read online

  Christmas Puds & Killers

  Christian Cozy Mystery

  Donna Doyle

  Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

  © 2019 PureRead Ltd

  Contents

  Introduction

  1. A Time of Cheer

  2. Christmas Puddings

  3. Merry and Bright

  4. Goodwill Toward Men

  5. Make a List

  6. Check It Twice

  7. Holiday Baking

  8. Christmas Traditions

  9. A Right Jolly Old Elf

  10. Have a Merry Christmas

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  About PureRead

  Introduction

  A Personal Word From PureRead

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  Enjoy The Story!

  1

  A Time of Cheer

  “What do you think? Is this centered?” Sammy got off the stepladder and stood back to admire her work. The massive green wreath Johnny had dragged out of the storage area looked wonderful on the wall behind the counter, complemented by the strands of evergreen garland and the big red bows that held it up. The snow was falling thickly outside, making the warm interior of Just Like Grandma’s feel incredibly cozy.

  “Looks great to me,” Helen said with a smile. “I don’t think I’ve seen the diner look this good in years. Every time Christmas comes rolling around, I think about getting all those decorations back out. But I get busy and it never happens. Just where do you come up with all your energy, anyway?”

  Sammy shrugged as she moved the stepladder a few feet down and picked up a little Santa statue that would fit perfectly on a shelf on the wall. “I don’t know. I think I’m just determined to enjoy the holidays this year. They were so awful the last few years when I was still with Greg. I fooled myself into thinking I was having fun while I tagged along to his company Christmas parties and watched him flirt with all the women, when what I really wanted to do was volunteer at the soup kitchen or even just spend some time with my Bible and celebrate the birth of Jesus.”

  “I take it he wasn’t a Christian man?”

  “Not exactly.” Sammy shook her head at the memories, wondering how she had ever managed to get herself into a relationship like that. All the trauma with her father’s arrest had driven her away from the religion of her childhood, but had that really been an excuse? Even if it wasn’t, at least she finally had a chance to make things right again. “I think going to church every Sunday has really helped me get into the spirit of things.”

  “Pastor Mike has a way of doing that to people,” Helen agreed as she pulled a package of ornaments out of a nearby box. “You think we should put a tree up? I have a six-footer somewhere.”

  “Sure, why not? We can set it up over by the table of baked goods so it won’t be in the way. I think it’ll look nice. But I think I need to be done with this for now. We’re starting to get some customers coming in, and if they go as crazy for my gingerbread cookies as I hope they will, I’ll need to get a new batch in the over soon.” She put away her decorating mess and washed her hands.

  Several customers had just come in looking for breakfast, and they sat at a table in the front corner. The group consisted of four older women, and they sat talking together like school girls in the cafeteria.

  “What can I get for you ladies this morning?”

  “There she is!” said one of them with excitement, her sparkly earrings shaking with excitement. “Make sure you get one of her biscuits, Maureen. You’ve never tasted anything better!”

  “I have already had the biscuits, Linda,” replied her friend next to her. This woman had hair that was dyed a very deep shade of brown that couldn’t possibly have been natural, and it was cut in a bob at her chin. “As well as her cinnamon rolls, and her dinner rolls, and her cookies, and her pecan pie. That’s exactly why we’re here, isn’t it?”

  Sammy tapped the end of her pen on her chin and smiled. She had no idea what they were talking about, except that it involved her. “Is there something I can help you with?”

  Maureen, the dark-haired one, nodded her head and folded her hands primly on the table in front of her. “Yes, dear. We’re the Radical Grandmas. I take it you’ve heard of us?”

  Glancing across the diner at Helen and wondering just who these interesting ladies were, Sammy shook her head. “I’m sorry, I can’t say that I have.”

  “Then you haven’t been getting out enough,” Maureen asserted. “You see, we do a lot for this community. If there’s a fundraiser, a coat drive, a trivia night, or a craft fair in Sunny Cove, then we’ve had a hand in it. And right now, we’re organizing a fundraiser to save to Sunny Cove Recreation Center.”

  “That’s wonderful,” Sammy enthused, not even having been aware that the rec center needed saving. “If you’d like to leave a flyer with me, I can ask Helen about putting it up near the counter where people can see it.”

  “We were actually hoping that you could do much more for us than that,” smiled a woman with a blonde pouf of hair on top of her head. “I’m Agnes Miller, by the way.”

  Sammy shook the hand the older woman held out, finding it cool and soft. “It’s very nice to meet you.”

  “Oh, you poor thing!” laughed the fourth woman as she slapped a hand on the table. “You look like you think you might get abducted by aliens or something! We just wanted to see if you could do some baking for us. It’s going to be a big Christmas party, you see.”

  “You never could stand the suspense, could you Viola?” snapped Maureen. She turned a smile to Sammy. “But she’s right. We’d like a big, glorious Christmas cake to raffle off. We know what a reputation you have around here for your baked goods, and we think it will bring in quite a bit of money. There will also be a per plate charge for everyone who’s joining us for dinner, and some local businesses are bringing in items for a silent auction.”

  Sammy had to smile. It sounded like a big task, but she was always up for helping a worthy cause. It would take her some time in the kitchen, but baking was what she was good at. “Sure, I’d love to help.”

  “Don’t say that just yet,” Agnes cautioned, her gold bangle bracelets jingling as she shook a warning finger at Sammy. “You haven’t heard all of it.”

  “No?” Even though the diner had just opened, Sammy already knew these were her most interesting customers of the day.

  “No,” Maureen affirmed. “We really want to create the effect of an old-fashioned, community Christmas. We need about eight to ten Christmas puddings as well. We’re happy to pay for materials—we know you have to spend money to make money—but we’re hoping you’d be willing to donate your time.”

  Sammy stared at them for a moment, her mouth open. “Um,” she finally said when she shut it
again, “I’m afraid I’ve never made a Christmas pudding before.”

  “Oh, you’ll do just fine at it, dear,” Agnes insisted. “I’ve watched a few cooking shows about this sort of thing, and it doesn’t really seem all that hard, especially with your talent.”

  “They’re sort of like fruit cakes, only rounder and tastier,” Viola volunteered. “I’m sure there are some cookbooks down at the library that can help. I might not work there anymore, but I still know that place like the back of my hand. I can point you right to them.”

  Maureen shook her head. “She doesn’t need your dusty old books, Viola. She’ll just look them up on the internet like all the young kids do these days.”

  “Everyone needs books, dusty or not,” Viola argued.

  Sammy would have thought the ladies were having a genuine argument, but she noted the sparkle in their eyes as they spoke to each other. Clearly, the relationship between the four of them was one that had been forged over many years, and they were comfortable enough with each other to tease a little. “I’ll see what I can do. When is the fundraiser? And where?”

  “December seventeenth at the rec center,” Maureen explained. “Does that mean we can count on your help?”

  “Of course. Do you have any certain flavors or themes in mind?” She had been poised to write down their order, but instead she began jotting down her projects for the fundraiser. She could already see the Christmas cake in her mind.

  “Just one requirement: no nuts. I have an allergy, and we know quite a few other people do these days.”

  Sammy wrote their wish in big, bold letters at the bottom of the ticket. “Not a problem.”

  Once she had their contact information and everything was settled, they finally placed their order. Sammy took the ticket to the back to give to Johnny, and Helen joined her. “That was quite a conversation just for some waffles and biscuits.”

  “Oh, it was much more than that!” Sammy replied excitedly. “They want me to do some baked goods to help with their fundraiser for the rec center. It sounds like a great cause, and it will bring in some publicity for the diner, too.”

  “And it’ll be a nice showcase for your talents,” Helen reminded her. “Not that you need it. They never would have asked you for something like that if they didn’t already know just how good you are.”

  “I don’t know about that. They want a huge cake and several Christmas puddings, the latter of which I’ve never made. I don’t know how well they’ll turn out.” Sammy’s excitement had overwhelmed her logic, and she was now seriously wondering if she could pull this off. “I’m going to have to do a lot of research on this one.”

  “Even so, the Radical Grandma’s don’t do anything halfway. If they didn’t think you could do it, they wouldn’t have even considered you. You should be flattered.” Helen threw her gray braid over her shoulder and patted Sammy on the back. “They have confidence in you, and you should have some in yourself.”

  “Thanks,” Sammy said with a smile. “For now, it looks like I need to get some more biscuits going. I’ve heard the door ding several times, and all that Christmas decorating put me behind for the breakfast rush.”

  2

  Christmas Puddings

  Three days later, Sammy stood in the kitchen of Just Like Grandma’s well after the diner had closed. Johnny had gone home for the day, as had Helen once she had wished Sammy luck. “I have no doubt you’ll do well, Sammy my dear,” she said with a wink as she headed out the back door.

  Unfortunately, Sammy wasn’t quite so certain. She had met up with Viola at the Sunny Cove Library, where the older woman instantly led her to a section of cookbooks that were just as dusty as Maureen had said they would be. Sammy had checked several out and spent hours looking through them and learning about Christmas puddings as well as several other old-fashioned recipes that she would like to try. Then, she had spent some time on the internet, watching videos about how to bake the Christmas puddings and finding so many recipes she wasn’t sure which ones to try first. Some of this was dictated by the ingredients that each one called for, since some of them weren’t available in Sunny Cove. Even a trip to the larger grocery store over in Oak Hills hadn’t been quite enough, and some of the puddings would have to wait until the order she placed online came in. Still, she could get started on a few of the recipes.

  “Okay, Sammy. Your last name isn’t Baker for nothing,” she said to herself as she took the plastic wrap off a bowl of dried fruit she had left to soak the night before. “People have been making these things for centuries, and there’s no reason you can’t do it now.”

  But the fact remained that this was something new to her, and it definitely wasn’t the same as a typical cake or yeast bread. Sammy was just about to start adding the rest of the ingredients when she heard a knocking sound from the front of the diner. She paused, thinking she was hearing things because she wasn’t used to being in Just Like Grandma’s after hours, but then the knocking came again.

  With a sigh, Sammy headed through the swinging door and into the dining room, prepared to tell whoever had been rude enough to come by that they weren’t open and to come back in the morning. But she recognized the face peering in the glass of the front door, with his wild black hair sticking out from under a striped stocking cap, and she unlocked the door. “Austin, what are you doing out so late?”

  “I went for a walk,” he informed her with a proud smile. “Walking reduces fat and lowers blood pressure.”

  Considering that the poor boy had spent some of his life scrounging in dumpsters, Sammy doubted that he needed to worry about body fat. She shut and locked the door behind him. “What about your Uncle Mitch? Does he know where you are?” Austin lived with his uncle, not having any other family, and the old man often had a hard time keeping up with his rambunctious nephew. Austin was a grown man in his early twenties, but he had the energy of a twelve-year-old.

  “He’s asleep,” Austin replied. “Do we have any jobs?”

  Sammy had been helping Austin earn a little money around town by lining up jobs where he could pick up trash or rake leaves. It was a lot of work for her, as well, but it kept Austin from getting in trouble for stealing. “Not right now, I don’t. All the leaves have been taken care of, and it’s awful cold outside. Once the snow starts falling, though, we can have you shovel some sidewalks.”

  “Okay.”

  It was the shortest thing Sammy had ever heard coming out of his mouth, and she could see some of the light go out of his dark eyes. “Hey, it’s just for a little while. Besides, I’ve got a whole bunch of things to bake for a fundraiser. You can help me for a few minutes while you warm up from the cold, and then I’ll take you home.” She led him into the back.

  She had asked Helen once before if Austin could have a job in the kitchen, but the older woman had said she’d tried it before without success. Sammy had been working with Austin for a few months now, and she was hopeful that the result would be different. He was comfortable around her, and she was patient enough with him that he didn’t get out of control. “First, you need to take off your coat and hat. You can hang them right there on the peg.”

  He did as he was told, even if he moved slowly. “What are we making?”

  “Christmas pudding.”

  “I like pudding, especially pistachio,” Austin enthused as Sammy directed him to the sink to wash his hands.

  “This is a different kind of pudding,” she explained. “It’s more like a dense cake with lots of fruit in it.”

  “Is it good?”

  “Well, I haven’t tried it yet. We’ll have to find out.” Sammy tied an apron onto Austin and brought him over to the counter, where she had measured out most of the ingredients. “Okay, see that bowl of spices? You can dump that whole thing into this bowl of dried fruit.”

  “It looks funny,” he said as he took a sniff. “And it smells funny, too.”

  “The fruit has been soaked in brandy overnight,” Sammy explained. “But
there are other ways of doing it, as well. I have another bowl that’s been soaked in tea, and one that’s been soaked in orange juice. I want to see which ones work the best.” She had determined from her research that the ones made with alcohol were the most traditional and would probably taste the best, but she didn’t want anyone at the fundraiser to be offended. The alcohol would cook off during the steaming process, but still.

  Austin continued to add ingredients and mix at her direction. He was greasing the pudding mold when something occurred to her. “Austin, what are you and Uncle Mitch doing for Christmas? Do you celebrate at home? Or go to church?”

  He stuck the tip of his tongue out while he finished pouring the batter into the mold. “My cousin Rachel said she wants to have a big family dinner, so we’re going over there and going to church with her.”

  She hadn’t realized just how worried she had been about this. Austin and his uncle were good people who simply had been handed a rough lot in life, and she hated to think of the two of them sitting in their trailer without having a real holiday. “Where does your cousin live?”

  “I don’t know. Uncle Mitch will drive.”

  “I’m sure he will.” Sammy was busy boiling water on the stove and making sure the pan was ready for steaming. “I think that’s about done. Here, it’s time to pour the pudding in. Hold the mold still for me. Now I’ll let you push it all down with the spoon to get the air bubbles out.”

  “What are you doing?” he asked as she pleated a piece of parchment paper and put it and a sheet of aluminum foil over the top of the bowl.