BETTER WATCH OUT Read online

  Praise for Christina Freeburn’s Mysteries

  “A snappy, clever mystery that hooked me on page one and didn’t let go until the perfectly crafted and very satisfying end. Faith Hunter is a delightful amateur sleuth and the quirky characters that inhabit the town of Eden are the perfect complement to her overly inquisitive ways. A terrific read!”

  – Jenn McKinlay,

  New York Times Bestselling Author of Copy Cap Murder

  “An enjoyable read with a comfortable tone, plenty of non-stop action and pacing that was on par with how well this story was told…A delightfully entertaining debut and I can’t wait for more tales with Merry and her friends.”

  – Dru’s Book Musings

  “Christina’s characters shine, her knowledge of scrapbooking is spot on, and she weaves a mystery that simply cries out to be read in one delicious sitting!”

  – Pam Hanson,

  Author of Faith, Fireworks, and Fir

  “A fast-paced crafting cozy that will keep you turning pages as you try to figure out which one of the attendees is an identity thief and which one is a murderer.”

  — Lois Winston,

  Author of the Anastasia Pollack Crafting Mystery Series

  “A little town, a little romance, a little intrigue and a little murder. Join heroine Faith and find out exactly who is doing the embellishing—the kind that doesn’t involve scrapbooking.”

  – Leann Sweeney,

  Author of the Bestselling Cats in Trouble Mysteries

  “Battling scrapbook divas, secrets, jealousy, murder, and lots of glitter make Designed to Death a charming and heartfelt mystery.”

  –Ellen Byerrum,

  Author of the Crime of Fashion Mysteries

  “Freeburn’s second installment in her scrapbooking mystery series is full of small-town intrigue, twists and turns, and plenty of heart.”

  – Mollie Cox Bryan,

  Agatha Award Finalist, Scrapbook of Secrets

  “Witty, entertaining and fun with a side of murder…When murder hits Eden, WV, Faith Hunter will stop at nothing to clear the name of her employee who has been accused of murder. Will she find the killer before it is too late? Read this sensational read to find out!”

  – Shelley’s Book Case

  “Has mystery and intrigue aplenty, with poor Faith being stuck in the middle of it all…When we finally come to the end of the book (too soon), it knits together seamlessly and comes as quite a surprise, which is always a good thing. A true pleasure to read.”

  – Open Book Society

  “A cozy mystery that exceeds expectations…Freeburn has crafted a mystery that does not feel clichéd…it’s her sense of humor that shows up in the book, helping the story flow, making the characters real and keeping the reader interested.”

  — Scrapbooking is Heart Work

  Mysteries by Christina Freeburn

  The Merry & Bright Handcrafted Mystery Series

  NOT A CREATURE WAS STIRRING (#1)

  BETTER WATCH OUT (#2)

  The Faith Hunter Scrap This Series

  CROPPED TO DEATH (#1)

  DESIGNED TO DEATH (#2)

  EMBELLISHED TO DEATH (#3)

  FRAMED TO DEATH (#4)

  MASKED TO DEATH (#5)

  ALTERED TO DEATH (#6)

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  Copyright

  BETTER WATCH OUT

  A Merry & Bright Handcrafted Mystery

  Part of the Henery Press Mystery Collection

  First Edition | October 2019

  Henery Press

  www.henerypress.com

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever, including internet usage, without written permission from Henery Press, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  Copyright © 2019 by Christina Freeburn

  Author photograph by Kristi Downey

  This is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Trade Paperback ISBN-13: 978-1-63511-507-9

  Digital epub ISBN-13: 978-1-63511-508-6

  Kindle ISBN-13: 978-1-63511-509-3

  Hardcover ISBN-13: 978-1-63511-510-9

  Printed in the United States of America

  For Tracy Hedrick,

  my fellow scrapbooker/crafter, Disney and Marvel fan,

  and one of my best friends.

  We’ve shared many adventures,

  seen each other at our best—and worst—

  and our friendship has never wavered.

  Thank you for always being there for me and having my back

  especially those times when I just wanted to quit.

  Your friendship and love make my world

  brighter and more complete.

  You are an amazing person. Never forget that.

  I love you.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  A huge thank you to my editor Maria for helping make this book the gem that it is, putting up with all my angsting over the title, and for coming up with the perfect title.

  Plus a thanks to all the other wonderful members at Henery Press for helping me make this book awesome.

  I’d also like to thank my cropping buddies and friends, the encouragers who always pick up my spirits and help me through the learning curves of the new crafting mediums I jump into.

  One

  Right after Thanksgiving, Season’s Greetings was full on Christmas. Everything was cheerful. Holidayish. Full of old-fashioned charm and visions of Christmas’ past straight out of classic holiday movies. Large Christmas trees were erected at every intersection. The finest tree, a twenty-foot majestic Douglas fir, was at the end of Main Avenue. Multi-colored Christmas lights filled the branches from top to bottom, casting a kaleidoscope around the tree. At night, there wasn’t a speck of evergreen noticeable because of the multitudes of colors twinkling all over the tree. It was my favorite sight of the holiday season.

  Christmas coming alive in its full glory was what drew tourists to our town from the day after Thanksgiving to the first of the year. Season’s Greetings knew how to do Christmas well. I was doing everything in my power to make sure it stayed that way. Even though a few people in town seemed determined to add a little Scrooge into the festivities. Like my neighbor Cornelius who always refused to decorate his costume shop or the outside of his home, and Jenna Wilcox who refused to share the theme of her float for the Christmas parade.

  All I wanted was to have a perfect flow for the Christmas parade. I didn’t want all the bands bunched up like last year, and the floats that threw out candy coming before the fire truck. Last year, it almost caused quite a few heart attacks as children ran out to snag the candy. Fortunately, Paul McCormick, the volunteer fireperson who drove the truck, had anticipated the issue and kept the truck far behind the floats and inched down the street. The parade lasted about an hour longer than usual but at least there weren’t any injuries. My plan was to stop all potential problems before there was even an issue in anyone else’s mind.

  Jenna found my insistence at
knowing highly controlling, and I found her unwillingness to comply with a simple request downright rude and Grinchy. She liked issuing orders but not following them. Jenna was a take charge, independent woman who took every opportunity to show it. She answered to no one though she expected everyone to kowtow to her. The woman was a force to reckon with and had no qualms of stirring up trouble in a person’s life, even if it required making up a story, which was how I think she was voted onto the city council the last three elections even though no one particularly liked her. No one wanted to deal with the ramifications of not doing as Jenna wanted.

  But Jenna was the least of my worries. There were eighteen days before Christmas, and I was nowhere near ready in my personal preparations for the holiday. Worse, I had twenty-six business hours left to mail out Christmas orders placed with Merry and Bright Handcrafted Christmas to beat the Christmas mail rush and finalize the lineup for Season’s Greetings Christmas Parade.

  Why oh why did I agree to organize the parade? This was the busiest time of the year for a woman who sold handcrafted Christmas items. Why had I done this to myself?

  One word: guilt. Or rather, having a large soft spot for Christmas and my former stepdaughter Cassie. Nothing grabbed my attention quicker or had me volunteering my time than the thought of Christmas, anyone’s Christmas, being ruined. My ex-husband Samuel had been in charge and his helpers dwindled away the closer it came to Christmas, and after Samuel was murdered, the rest—except his eighteen-year-old daughter Cassie—had bailed from the project and refused to take it over. If I didn’t agree to organize the Christmas parade, then everyone in Season’s Greetings would have their Christmas ruined. I couldn’t let that happen.

  I slowly drove down Main Avenue, taking in the sights. The light poles had a lighted, seasonal decoration attached to it: candy cane, wreath, silver bells, snowflakes, mistletoe. Red bows adorned the meters, sometimes making it a little hard to add money without moving the bow over. I wouldn’t mention it as I’d rather move the large bow than have the city remove them. Everything needed a splash of Christmas during the holiday season.

  Wreaths decorated the door of every store on Main Avenue, except for Cornelius’s storefront. Not one decal on the window. Not one Christmas decoration to be seen through the window. His store was business as usual. Considering he ran a costume shop, I was surprised at how little care he gave to decorating. Though, I was happy he didn’t put the Santa and elf suits near the front window. It wouldn’t be good to spoil the Christmas magic for children. It might be easy to explain one Santa suit in the window, but not ten.

  I pulled into a parking space in front of One More Page, a bookstore owned by my friend Rachel Abbott. This morning, I was dropping off a replacement naughty list sign. Her theme was Santa’s workshop, but instead of the usual toy shop area, Rachel was depicting Santa’s office, or more precisely his naughty and nice list. Someone had stolen the first sign and I had promised Rachel to drop off a new one this morning.

  Not wanting to juggle the boards and the door, I phoned Rachel. “I have the new sign for you.”

  “I think I know who stole it. Jenna. She’s copying it to make her own.” The tenseness in her voice caused an iciness to run through my veins. Jenna’s naughty list meant trouble in Season’s Greetings. No one used that tone of voice for good.

  “I’ll be at your front door in a minute.” I was surprised at the news. Not that my craft design was being copied, it happened every year to crafters. Come up with a cute project design and before you knew it everyone was selling one just like it. Though, I was surprised Jenna was doing it. She had never crafted anything in her life—that I knew of.

  I removed the twelve-by-twenty-four-inch wooden sign from the back seat of my SUV, being careful not to bang it against the side of the vehicle. I was more worried about nicking the sign than dinging up my car.

  “We should have the conversation inside.” Rachel herded me into the store, her brown hair with a few strands of gray was piled up on her head in a messy bun. Not a styled messy bun but one that was the result of waking up late and not having time to wash her hair. Her clothes were also in a disarray, buttons misaligned, one leg of her jean pulled up and the other tucked into a leather boot. Whatever was going on, it had Rachel in a tailspin. She usually had a more put together look and this said she scrambled out of bed and rushed to work.

  “Is this going to ruin the holiday season?” I asked, carefully maneuvering through the door with the wooden signs, avoiding hitting the door frame and knocking my eyeglasses askew.

  “Depends on how you feel about a twelve-foot-by-eight-foot naughty list sign displayed on a float with your and Samuel’s name on it.”

  “Are you sure? Why?” Jenna and I weren’t friends but not enemies either. I had no idea why she’d want to try and embarrass me, and Samuel was dead. She couldn’t do anything to him. But it would hurt his mother and daughter, and they didn’t deserve that.

  “Because she’s Jenna and…” Rachel cut her gaze away from me and pressed her lips together.

  I knew what she was holding back and was glad my friend didn’t feel the need to remind me that technically, Samuel Waters was still my husband since the louse, unbeknownst to me, hadn’t actually signed the divorce decree when he and his lawyer said he had. I didn’t want to be Samuel’s widow. Samuel and my relationship had deteriorated quickly after our wedding, and I didn’t want my name tied to his any longer. And, there was a woman in Season’s Greetings who had believed with all her heart that Samuel had been free and clear to marry her and had been in love with him when he died. Bonnie had thought she was Mrs. Samuel Waters. She deserved the title of widow.

  Hopefully, Brett, my first ex-husband, father of my two now adult children, and currently my lawyer, was able to clear up the marital status kerfuffle Samuel forced upon me and Bonnie.

  “By now, I think everyone knows all of Samuel’s faults,” I said.

  “You and Samuel aren’t the only ones on the list. I have it on good authority that the mayor, the pastor, and a few other people are on the list. And, she’s going to have the names lit up so everyone can see it.”

  What in the world was Jenna up to? The woman was on the city council, it made little sense for her to upset people. The group she was targeting, beside me and Samuel, had a rather large following of devoted fans and congregation members. The woman was going about getting reelected all wrong.

  “I can’t let her do that.”

  “That’s why I wanted to tell you. She can’t be allowed to ruin the parade.”

  The Christmas Parade was a huge tourist attraction. Visitors came from all over West Virginia and surrounding states to take part in our Christmas festivities. No matter Jenna’s reason, I had to stop her. I couldn’t allow her to suck away the joy and beauty. We needed the parade. It wasn’t just a loved tradition but helped all the businesses in town have a profitable year. If the parade turned into an airing of grievances, no one would want to attend, and definitely not travel to see it next year.

  Nor could I let her use the parade to start rumors about town residents. Everyone would wonder why certain people are on the list. Especially the mayor and the pastor. Me and Samuel…well, the residents would be able to figure that out pretty easily. Samuel was murdered because of a twelve-million-dollar lottery ticket, which the town now believed to be mine. I did have the ticket, as the true owner of the ticket gifted it to me, but I was still feeling a little reluctant to call it my own—and spend any of the money.

  I stared at the naughty list still in my hands. On it were famous Christmas villains: Grinch, Scrooge, Mr. Potter, Scut Farkas—I should’ve added Jenna Wilcox to it.

  Two

  The gravel road leading to Jenna Wilcox’s home was a series of potholes and mud pits. I maneuvered to the left then immediately jerked the wheel to the right to avoid an even larger pothole. Blobs of dirt flew out from the tires. Th
e six-bedroom farmhouse had belonged to Jenna’s parents and was gifted to her once they decided to leave West Virginia and take up residence in North Carolina. They wanted to live in a place with less snow, more sun, and not have the overbearing humidity of Florida. It also helped they had another daughter and grandchildren living there.

  It irritated Jenna that her parents packed up and moved, feeling they were choosing her sister and kids over her and Eric who didn’t have any children. I didn’t know Jenna or her parents that well, though it always seemed there was a tenseness to the relationship. I had actually been shocked when I learned they were related. The times I’d seen them at events, they acted like cordial acquaintances and not parents and child. I couldn’t imagine treating or reacting to my child as if they were someone I was forced to see during the holidays.

  My SUV slugged through the last half mile of mud to the Wilcox’s home. Jenna and Eric lived in a large white farmhouse. It looked like it came straight out of a picture book along with the large red barn yards from the main house.

  Jenna’s brand-new yellow Renegade wasn’t anywhere to be seen nor was her husband’s faded red truck. I heaved out a sigh. Looked like I just wasted precious minutes I didn’t have to squander. I should’ve called before making the twenty-minute drive.

  The barn doors were open. Maybe someone was home. I parked in the driveway near the barn. Since I drove all the way out here, I’d peek at Jenna’s float and check if the gossip Rachel heard was true. Maybe Jenna wasn’t really using a naughty list as her theme’s float, rather she just told someone that to rile up people. It was her favorite hobby. The float wasn’t in the driveway, so my guess was in the barn or behind the house. The barn was the more likely choice as it kept it protected and hidden from anyone who might stop by. The best way to keep a secret was putting it behind closed doors…which just happened to be open right now.