Page 23 of Christmas Mittens Murder

Don’t be talkin’ smack,

The Crochet Mafia can take a rest,

’Cause the Happy Hookers are simply the best,

Sorry your sad mittens are a major flop,

C’mon girls it’s time for the hookers to do a mic drop!”

Hayley was mightily impressed. Rosana and her knitting circle were joyful to watch. They were truly putting their hearts and souls into it.

Sal stared at the screen, dumbfounded. This was a side of his wife he had clearly never seen. He put an arm around Rosana’s shoulders. “Honey, you’re brilliant. I love it.”

Hayley suddenly noticed something on the video as the crowd applauded and the Happy Hookers took a bow. “Wait, Rosana, go back!”

Rosana scrolled the video back a few seconds and played it again. Behind the women as they were finishing their performance with a flourish, they could plainly see Esther Willey leaving up the stairs toward the exit of the church.

And she was not alone.

Doris Crimmons, a key member of the Crochet Mafia, was accompanying her.

Island Food & Spirits

by

Hayley Powell

Every Christmas, my favorite thing to make is peanut butter fudge. And believe me, I always have to limit myself to making it only once a year because I absolutely cannot get enough of this rich and delicious treat! If I allowed myself to make those pans of peanut goodness year-round, by the time December rolled around, I’d have a belly so big I could deliver all those Christmas presents in a reindeer-led sleigh myself!

Unfortunately, as much as I love peanut butter fudge, my BFF Liddy loathes it. It’s not because of some peanut allergy, or that she simply doesn’t like the taste of it; she claims it’s because my peanut butter fudge ruined her life!

You can probably see a story coming.

And you’d be right.

It was our senior year in high school, and yes, it was the same year as my rum cake debacle in Home Economics! Liddy, Mona and I were walking together to the lunchroom, making plans to go shopping over the weekend for our winter Snow Ball dresses while discussing which boy in school would be our fantasy date for the dance. Mona, who was not a fan of dating, swore she’d prefer to draw a face on a soccer ball and call it a day, like Tom Hanks did when he was stranded on a desert island in that movie that came out a few years later.

Suddenly Liddy stopped in her tracks, staring straight ahead. Mona and I strolled past her and then spun around and exchanged puzzled looks.

What was wrong with her?

Liddy, her bottom lip quivering, muttered under her breath, “Who is that?”

Before either of us could turn back around to check out what had caused her to suddenly freeze in place, we heard a familiar voice behind us. “Hello, girls. That’s Jon Black.”

Mona and I visibly shuddered. We knew that voice. It was my high school archnemesis Sabrina Merryweather (you could say we are friends now, let bygones be bygones).

Just ahead of us, we all stared at a handsome dark-haired boy wearing an MDI letter jacket and standing at his locker.

Liddy was mesmerized.

Sabrina, speaking with an air of superiority, explained, “Jon’s a new transfer student. His father recently retired from the U.S. Air Force, his mother is a doctor of genetics at the Jackson Laboratory, and they recently moved from Los Angeles, California, into the old Myer house on Holland Avenue.” Sabrina took a dramatic pause before icily adding, “And he is going to be my date for the Snow Ball!”

It was that last sentence that seemed to snap Liddy out of her googly eyed trance.

She glared at Sabrina, eyes narrowing. “What do you mean he’s going to be your date? Did he ask you?”

Sabrina shrugged. “Not yet, because I haven’t actually met him, but I’m about to!” She winked at Liddy and then whipped around and bounced off in the new boy Jon’s direction with Liddy chasing after her, hot on her heels.

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