Death Trims the Tree: The Penelope Standing Mysteries
By Tess Baytree
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About this ebook
Bah humbug!
It's four days before Christmas, but Penelope Standing isn't feeling very festive. Her son is halfway around the world, her gift for Jake isn't finished, and she's still trying to figure out how to decorate the house without Brutus, their mastiff, eating Santa and the reindeer. To top it all off, someone is stealing neighborhood holiday ornaments.
But nothing gets Penelope down for long. If she can't decorate her own house, she can at least deal with the crabby neighbor offering visions of fiery sinners instead of sugarplums. And maybe track down the missing decorations while she searches for her holiday spirit.
Join Penelope, Jake, their dog, and a cast of friends in this heartwarming holiday mystery, the latest in The Penelope Standing Mysteries.
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Titles in the series (7)
Death Walks a Dog: The Penelope Standing Mysteries, #1 Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsDeath Tracks the Scent: A Penelope Standing Mystery: The Penelope Standing Mysteries, #2 Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsDeath Smells a Rose: A Penelope Standing Mystery: The Penelope Standing Mysteries, #3 Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsDeath Crashes a Wedding: The Penelope Standing Mysteries, #4 Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsDeath Paints a Picture: The Penelope Standing Mysteries, #5 Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsPenelope Standing Unleashed!: The Penelope Standing Mysteries Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsDeath Trims the Tree: The Penelope Standing Mysteries Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratings
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Book preview
Death Trims the Tree - Tess Baytree
Chapter 1
Despite fifty years of trying, Penelope still couldn't wrap a present to save her life.
Spiced cider bubbled on the stove, filling Esther's kitchen with the scents of cinnamon, cloves, and apple. It was a combination Penelope normally loved. Today, though, it just reminded her of the air freshener one of her pet sitting clients had sprayed around their foyer yesterday. Instead of covering up the smell of moldy carpet, the spray had linked all the scents in a way Penelope was hoping to forget.
Tchaikovsky's Nutcracker Suite played on the speaker mounted in the corner. For some reason, it seemed to Penelope like the soundtrack of a heist movie more than anything else. Still. Better a heist movie than the endless repetition of novelty Christmas songs in the stores over the last two months.
There were four days until Christmas, and she really wasn't in a holiday mood.
The stacks of gifts still needing to be wrapped extended all the way to the front door, leaving barely enough room for Esther's wheelchair to get through. When two of her friends had needed to drop out of Santa Sleighs — a truly unfortunate name for such a worthwhile charity — Esther had offered to take over. So now she was decorating gifts for twelve families in town instead of four. Even the cats had been temporarily banished to their room to keep the production line moving.
At the kitchen table strewn with wrapping supplies, Penelope folded the end paper into a triangle on both sides, lifted the resulting trapezoid, and secured it with clear tape. The edges gaped, so she taped those down as well, then added another piece at the top just in case it got any ideas about letting loose. After all that, she affixed the tag with the recipient's name and added the final result to the stack with all the others.
Nobody would have any difficulty figuring out which of these presents she had wrapped. Esther's corners looked like corners, not the art project of a five-year-old. Maybe in another thirty years or so, Penelope would be as good as Esther, but she doubted it.
Esther caught her staring at the packages. Relax. The children won't care if Santa looks like he had a few too many before he wrapped their presents.
She placed another neatly wrapped book on top of the pile. Since when have you developed a streak of perfectionism?
The idea startled a laugh out of Penelope, despite her mood. Can you imagine? I'd never get anything done.
She picked up the next toy, a robot that converted into a train. I'm fine. It's just going to be the first Christmas Seth hasn't been able to stop by, and I'm feeling sorry for myself.
Her son was in his thirties and was doing well. She was excited about his trip to New Zealand; she just wished he could somehow clone himself so he'd be in this hemisphere for the holiday as well. "Part of the problem is I've been conditioned by all the songs and movies to expect snow and cold weather. Not that it ever snows here, but normally it's a little colder than this. And then Seth keeps sending pictures where everyone is in shorts and relaxing in the shade. It's messing with my brain."
The box for the train robot had three different sections for the body and a rounded top, and would have been a challenge for anyone. Penelope decided she wasn't going to feel bad about how this one turned out. She cut off a big section of the red paper decorated with green kittens chasing golden bows.
It might get below freezing tonight. Maybe that will help. How goes the great Christmas present hunt?
Esther asked.
Penelope and her husband had made a pact not to buy Christmas gifts for each other this year, which had sounded like a great idea in October, but had led to increasing desperation as the holiday approached.
Penelope sat up straighter. I looked through a bunch of boxes last night, and I think I've figured it out. Jake once talked about this dessert his aunt brought by every year. One of those things that might be an acquired taste but makes the holiday real for you.
Esther nodded as she used her scissors to slice off a square of the green paper with red puppies. Like my father's challah.
She smiled as she situated four skeins of yarn on the table. He added candied orange peel and chunks of fig, which always threw off new people. But that's what I grew up with, so I've always made a loaf that way for special holidays.
Penelope wrapped the paper over the top of the robot, but that left a bare spot near the side. Taping the side together, she cut off another piece of paper to cover the gap. Anyhow, I found the recipe. It's some sort of English Christmas pudding. It's supposed to be made a month in advance, but a few days is going to have to do. I just need to figure out how to keep him out of the house for six hours while it steams. Or else just admit that's what I'm doing and ruin the surprise.
Make it here.
Esther gestured at her stove. I can keep an eye on it while you're off walking dogs.
Thank you.
Penelope leaned back and eyed the robot. Perhaps if she added some ribbon, it would look better. Would tomorrow work?
Tomorrow would be fine. I'll be here wrapping gifts for the toy drive in any case.
Esther finished yet another neatly wrapped gift and added it to the stack. Now that the important things are out of the way, tell me about what Jake is doing. I heard Linda Schmidt hired him to track down a rolling pin.
Esther's description made Penelope smile. It's not just a rolling pin. It's an antique that makes a special pattern on cookies. Her great-grandmother brought it with her when she emigrated from Germany way back when. Eating cookies made with it provides good luck for the year.
Esther gave her a dubious look.
Penelope nodded. "One year her great-grandfather insisted his wife only make 'American' treats so she used the