13. Lottie

LOTTIE

T he voice in question just so happens to belong to my sister Charlie, and Carlotta and I both perk up at the sight of her.

"Sitting on Santa's lap is a privilege for people on the nice list," Charlie tells Carlotta just as an icy breeze blows past us right here at the Jolly Holly Tree Lot.

We share a quick laugh and even Lyla Nell chortles along because we all know that Carlotta has dominated the naughty list since the day she was born.

"Hey you," I say, pulling my look-alike into me for a quick embrace.

We share the same caramel curls, same hazel eyes—hers have a touch of blue in them—and for the most part, the very same face. We also share the same biological parents, Carlotta and Mayor Nash.

I just learned a few years back that Mayor Nash was my father, so I still continue to call him by his politically-based moniker.

"What are you doing here?" I ask as I dust the snow off her shoulders. "Getting a tree?"

"First, I'm getting some of that peppermint cocoa," she says, pointing to a short line next to us and we all quickly get in it. "I need to wake up a bit. I'm already exhausted from my shift at the Honey Pot."

" Hot chockey, " Lyla Nell shouts as she comes out of her scary Santa stupor. " Mommy, hot chockey, pwease! "

"You bet," I tell her.

"That's right, Little Yippy," Carlotta harps. "Your mama is going to say you bet to whatever you ask her." She sneers my way. "That's why when Little Yippy doesn't make the cheer squad one day there's going to be a big cheerleader massacre right here in Honey Hollow."

"Oh, would you stop." I roll my eyes at the thought. "I am not massacring anyone to make sure Lyla Nell gets her way. Unless, of course, it's you." I wink over at Charlie and we share another laugh. "So where's Max? Are you two picking out a tree together?"

Max would be her handsome plus-one.

"No, actually. I'm working tonight. I'm here with the Purple Santa Hat Society." She pulls a purple Santa hat out of her pocket and plops it on her head.

"What?" I squawk. "Say it ain't so," I tease. "I thought the Purple Santa Hat Society was for the golden girls among us. I think your cholesterol level is too low to play in those purple circles."

"That's right, Lot," Carlotta scowls. "Make fun of the elderly among us. That might be me right now, but someday it'll be you ."

One of the twins gives me a kick as if to drive home her point.

"They're open for new members now," Charlie says. "Their enrollment is down. I guess all the old biddies are dying and they need some young blood. Naomi talked both Lily and me into joining it."

Naomi would be Keelie's twin sister and Charlie's BFF. Ironic since Naomi, along with Lily Swanson, were my high school tormenters. But that's all water under the bridge.

"Well, I hope you girls have fun," I say as we step up to the front of the cocoa and cookie shack and we each pick up a peppermint hot cocoa—sippy lids included thankfully, for Lyla Nell's sake. And I pick up a bag of chocolate chip peppermint cookies and disperse those among us as well.

" Ooh, these are so good," Charlie moans. "They're waking me right up."

"They should be," I say. "The Cutie Pie is the cookie supplier around here." I'm about to fill her in on the fact we're rolling out peppermint chip brownies tomorrow when a spray of green and red stars appears to our right, near the edge of the woods.

"Well, well," Charlie says. "It looks as if your cookies aren't just waking up the living," she says. "They're waking up the dead, too."

Against the backdrop of the woods appears a fully formed man, dressed in full elf regalia from his pointy ears to his pointy toe shoes, lots of green velvet up top, yellow tights down below, and a tiny gold bell that trembles on the tip of his curly shoes.

"Do not let that ghost get away," I say as the three of us dart in his direction—Lyla Nell included.

Charlie, Carlotta, Lyla Nell, and I are something called transmundane, further classified as supersensual. There are a lot of supernatural abilities that fall under the transmundane umbrella, but ours is defined by the fact we can see ghosts. Not every ghost, not every time, but certainly the ones the Big Guy Upstairs wants us to see—me specifically. They're usually sent down to help solve the murder of the one they loved the best, and for the past few years, they've helped me do just that.

" Thimblewick ," I call out and the older gentleman winks my way while leaning on what looks to be a rather long and oversized candy cane, which he seems to be using as a, well, candy cane .

" Thimby Wicky ," Lyla Nell chirps, nearly tossing her hot chocolate right out of the stroller. " Mine! Thimby Wicky mine! "

"Back off, Toots," Carlotta is quick to tell her. "That magical, mysterious creature is mine, all mine ."

Thimblewick swoops forward with a green supernatural glow echoing around him.

"The only thing I want is Glenda Dasher's killer on a marshmallow skewer," he growls into the night. "The holidays are upon us, I've got work to do. I don't have time for this murderous nonsense. I certainly don't have time for a killer. Now, where's our suspect?" he thunders so loud my hair vibrates with the tenor of his voice.

"Wait a minute." Charlie squints at him with suspicion. "You're dead. What kind of holiday work are you supposed to be doing?"

"Where do you think Christmas spirit comes from?" He blinks over at her and frowns.

For as grumpy as he is, he's just that adorable, too. The twinkle lights up above really do show off his rosy cheeks along with that little dimple tucked in his chin.

Carlotta is right. He's magical, mystical, and cute as can be.

He lifts a finger. "When an elf passes up the need for a corporal frame, he or she is sent back from paradise to make the holidays merry and bright. I happen to be a North Pole elf, so that's where my spirit resides."

"Christmas spirit?" I say, shaking my head. "That really is a whole new take on the subject."

Charlie leans my way. "This guy really believes that Santa lives at the North Pole?"

"Would you stop?" Carlotta swats Charlie silly for the remark. "Don't you know anything? If you want to find some shiny new bling in your stocking, you need to believe. And to believe, you need to have some Christmas spirit." She turns to the elf among us. "Something tells me things are about to get a whole lot more spirited for the two of us tonight." She dives his way and he does a disappearing act. "Get back here, you naughty little elf. And believe me, I can help land us both on the naughty list with the things I've got planned. And I'm not above wearing a Santa hat either!"

"There he is," Charlie says, pointing to a row of arts and crafts booths with a banner stretched overhead that reads Santa's Workshop .

And standing next to him in the booth that reads Purple Santa Hat Society is none other than my first suspect.

Eudora Fairbanks, Ivy's mother.