Merry Merry Merry Murder, page 1
Table of Contents
Merry Merry Merry Murder (Cuddle Farm Mysteries, #1)
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Epilogue
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Also By Paty Jager
Merry Merry Merry Murder
Cuddle Farm Mystery
Book 1
Paty Jager
Windtree Press
This is a work of fiction, Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
MERRY MERRY MERRY MURDER
Copyright © 2025 Patricia Jager
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or Windtree Press except in the case of brief quotations in critical articles or reviews.
Contact Information: info@windtreepress.com
Windtree Press
Hillsboro, Oregon
http://windtreepress.com
Cover Art by Covers by Karen
PUBLISHING HISTORY
Published in the United States of America
ISBN 978-1940064-09-3
Chapter One
Driving up to Auburn City Park, I felt the same bubbles of excitement I had as a child. The Christmas Festival, held on the Saturday after Thanksgiving, marks the beginning of the holiday season in our small town of Auburn. Everyone from our community and nearby small towns came to shop at the craft and homemade food booths, and let the kids tell Santa what they want for Christmas.
This all happens in the City Park. The center of town, where every outdoor event is held, other than the rodeo. After a full day of activities in the park, everyone will gather around the largest tree and watch as the Christmas lights are lit.
I smiled, parking the van in front of the sandwich board that announced the time Santa would be available for photos, to sit on his lap, and tell him your Christmas wishes. My fourth Christmas rushed back to me as if I were the small child jogging up and down in place, fearing I wouldn’t get my chance to see Santa.
My pregnant mom, Nina, my older sister by five years, and I were setting up the booth where our family sold wool, yarn, and garments from the sheep we raised. Daddy couldn’t help set up because there had been coyotes in the sheep herd the night before. Nina and Mom were both impatient with my whining about visiting Santa and not bringing them the items they asked for.
That’s when Blind Betty, an adopted Ethiopian girl two years older than me, came by the booth and asked if one of us could take her to see Santa. I thought it was funny because she couldn’t really see him and laughed.
Mom said, “Andrea Hazel Weber, you apologize to Betty and take her along to the Santa booth.”
I couldn’t get moving fast enough. I grabbed Betty’s hand and dragged her across the park to the pavilion, where Santa’s sleigh sat in the center, being used as the backdrop for the photos. From that day forward, Betty and I became friends. She nicknamed me Andi, and I’ve gone by that ever since.
“That was one of the best days of my life,” I say, shifting in my seat and smiling at the three dogs in the middle seat. They all smile back at me. Or I like to think they were smiling. I know their eyes were bright with anticipation of the people they’d meet today.
Peering forward, I watched people bustling around getting food and craft booths ready for the event to kick off in an hour. There were faces I remembered from all those years ago. Or maybe it wasn’t the faces so much as the booths, and then recognizing the aged faces.
My stomach did a little wobble. This was my first time back in twenty years. After graduating high school, I went to college, fell in love, and married Mick, who took me all over the world. We only came back to Auburn for one-week stays in between his jobs, which was never during the winter.
Coming back to Auburn had been my first thought when I got over the shock of my husband dying in a freak accident. And this. The people, the community involvement, and feeling as if I belonged were why I didn’t think twice about going anywhere else.
People called out to one another, slapped acquaintances on the back, and all seemed as excited as I’d felt as a four-year-old. The whole county was eager to move from the doldrums of a rainy fall into preparations for Christmas. It helped that it was the Saturday after Thanksgiving, and many needed the exercise to work off all they had eaten on Thursday.
With only an hour before the event started, I needed to stop reminiscing and get busy. I never arrive more than an hour before an event. Any earlier, my crew of cuddles would become bored and get into trouble. The committee asked me to set up a small petting zoo at the entrance to the holiday event. I scanned the inflatable decorations and roped-off areas that would funnel attendees down a specific path through all the booths and over to where Santa would listen to children’s Christmas wishes and spotted our sign.
“Come on, Cocoa, I can use your help carrying things.” I unsnapped my brown and white border collie from the seatbelt harness and listened to Lulu whine. Scratching the dapple head and soft, long, black furry ears of my Chiweenie, I said, “You’re too small to help me right now. You keep Athena company.” I patted the blonde head of Athena, my Golden Retriever/Pyrenees, and followed Cocoa to the trailer behind the van.
Luckily, all my animals are small, except for Athena, and fairly easy to handle. Athena is larger than both my mini donkey and pygmy goat. At the trailer loaded with panels to set up a small pen, I pointed to the bucket full of pins that hold the panels together. Cocoa grabbed the handle in her mouth. I gathered the top two panels and carried them to the area with a sign, Cuddle Farm Animals.
Cocoa followed with the bucket.
“Good girl.” I patted Cocoa’s head and told her to stay while I went back to make four more trips. Once all ten panels were in the area, I assembled them with the pins Cocoa brought to me.
“That’s a handy dog,” a voice behind me said.
Twisting my neck, I caught sight of a man carrying a red Santa suit. “She’s my best helper. But she wouldn’t make a good elf. She doesn’t like to wear pointy shoes and hats.”
The man laughed and hurried along the path to the covered pavilion where Santa would greet his fans.
Sliding the last pin in place, I straightened and walked to the van to retrieve Lulu and Athena. Lulu put her nose to the ground, making circles as she followed the different scents. Athena lumbered over to where the pen was set up and lay down, crossing her front legs and scanning the activity around her.
I returned to the back of the van, opened the doors, and pulled out Flopsie, the brown and white Holland lop bunny’s cage, and then Chicklet’s cage. A brown and tan checkerboard silky hen.
Carrying the two small cages over to the large enclosure, I wished I’d brought my garden wagon. It would have saved half the trips. After depositing the two small cages next to Athena, I returned to the van. Opening the divider between the back where the bunny and hen had been, I snapped lead ropes onto the halters of Sparky, a tan paint mini donkey, and Cupcake, a black and white pygmy goat.
Cupcake jumped out of the back of the van and kicked up her heels, dancing around. Her usual antics when she was released from an enclosed area. Sparky let out a staccato squeaky heee-hee-haw in opposition to jumping out of the van. I handed Cupcake’s lead rope to Cocoa and lowered the ramp. Sparky walked down and stood showing off his yellow teeth as I put the ramp up and closed the doors.
After settling the donkey, goat, and Athena in the pen Cocoa and I built, I placed Flopsie and Chicklet’s locked cages in the middle so no one walking by could pick them up and walk off. Athena would keep people from trying to get inside the large pen.
“Come on, Cocoa and Lulu. Let’s go get some hot chocolate and donuts.” I snapped the leashes on the two dogs and we walked down the path to the food booths.
“Andi! Andi!” called a voice I knew well. Following the sound, I found Mom standing in the Weber Wool booth. Colorful knitted scarves, hats, and mittens, as well as woven blankets, covered the shelves and walls.
“Hi, Mom. I thought Nina was going to help you set up?” Since moving back to Auburn, I’d become the business’s bookkeeper to help the family business when I’m not running my therapy animals to schools, hospitals, and nursing homes. Nina was in partnership with Mom and my younger brother, Rudy.
“She’s getting me a cup of coffee and one of Jeanne’s pastries. Are you and your crew all set?” Mom reached down, patting both Cocoa and Lulu on their heads.
“Yes. Athena is watching over the others w
Mom smiled. “I told your sister you’d want that hat when it was finished. But she insisted we had to sell it. Christmas was far enough away that I could make another one.” She grabbed the hat off the pile and handed it to me. “Don’t wear it around your sister until after Christmas.”
I hugged Mom. “I’ll try to remember. But it is my two favorite colors.” I tucked the hat in my coat pocket and hurried to Jeanne’s booth. Jeanne Léon owned the bakery in town. Even if there had been more than her bakery in Auburn, everyone would go to hers. She made the lightest eclairs and puff pastry. Her husband, Peter, made the fluffiest donuts I’ve ever eaten. They could have made a fortune in a large city with their bakery, but they preferred the slow, laid-back life of Auburn in Eastern Oregon.
Nina walked toward me. “Is your herd ready to wow the kids?”
I hated how Nina made fun of my animals and how they helped people, but then I didn’t understand how anyone could be so obsessed with getting a color just right on a skein of yarn or fussing over a pattern that didn’t come out right. I didn’t get the creative genes from Mom. I received my father’s genes. He was, and I still am, interested in animal husbandry and have a knack for numbers.
“The animals are ready. I’m after hot chocolate and donuts to fortify us.” I led Cocoa and Lulu by my sister.
“Are you feeding donuts to those poor animals?” Nina asked, her tone filled with disapproval.
I stopped, pivoted toward her, and smiled before saying, “No. The donuts are for the 4-H club that’s coming to help me.”
“Oh, good. I’d hate to think you feed your animals stuff they shouldn’t have.” Nina spun on her heel, juggling two cups of coffee and a small white bag with the J & P Bakery logo.
I waited for her to get far enough away and said to Cocoa and Lulu, “You two better not tell her that I give you dessert every night.” Both animals looked up with complete innocence in their big brown eyes.
“Good. Let’s buy those donuts and get back.”
֍ ֍ ֍
Six hours later, I finished thanking the 4-H club for helping out and walked back to the entry of the petting zoo pen. A soft voice came from over where Athena was lying. Dark curly hair flowed over Athena’s shoulder. A child in a green coat and black pants lay alongside the dog. The child’s pink boots were toes up.
“Athena, I know you won’t say anything to anyone. But I’m so confused. I saw Mommy behind Santa’s sleigh kissing Santa. Not like she kisses Grandpa on the cheek. She was kissing him like she used to kiss Daddy. Santa might be a good person cuz he gives out presents, but Mommy shouldn’t be kissing him. She should be kissing Daddy. I don’t know what to do or who to tell. I do know I’m writing Santa a letter and telling him to leave my mommy alone.”
My heart went out to the child. Her mother obviously thought she was hidden, but the child had seen something she shouldn’t have. I didn’t want the child to know I’d heard what she said. I called out, “Are you Cuddle Farm animals ready to go home?”
The child sat up beside Athena. That’s when I recognized her. She and her father had visited the wool shop a couple of weeks before. He had black sheep and wanted to know if we would purchase the wool from the sheep. Chef, no, Sheffield had been the last name.
“Hi! Didn’t you and your dad come into the Weber Wool shop a while back?” I asked.
The child smiled. “Yes, Daddy said the black sheep should be worth something to someone.”
“Hi, I’m Andi.” I held out my hand and shook hands with the child.
“I’m Ava. I met Athena at the school last spring.” The child patted Athena’s wide, flat head.
“She is big and lovable,” I agreed. “You want to help me put them in my van?”
The child’s eyes widened and a smile spread across her face. “Can I?”
“Sure.” I walked over to the tote that held the feed, water, lead ropes, and leashes. “Do you want to lead Sparky or Cupcake?”
“Cupcake, please.” Ava held out her hand for the lead rope.
I placed it in her hand, and we walked into the pen. The animals knew the routine. They walked up and allowed the lead ropes to be snapped on. “When we get out of the pen, Cupcake may dance around. It’s just her happy dance to be going home. Keep a good grip on the rope so she doesn’t get away and follow her as she dances.”
Cupcake didn’t disappoint. Two families leaving the event stopped to watch and laugh at the tiny goat as she danced over to the van with Ava skipping behind her.
“Hold Sparky while I lower the ramp,” I said, handing the lead rope to the child. It was rare that the goat or the donkey ever took off. I was comfortable having Ava hold the two. They’d had a long day and were ready to go home, eat hay, and rest.
We loaded the two and went back for the bunny and chicken cages. “You carry Chicklet, she’s lighter than Flopsie.”
“Why does she have funny feathers?” Ava asked, picking up the cage and staring at the chicken who bobbed her head, making the tan feathers sticking out all over her head shake. “How does she see? I can’t find her eyes.”
“She sees better than you’d think,” I said, shoving the cages into the back of the van. Once the cages were arranged, I pushed the ramp in and closed the door. “I’ll take the panels down, and you can put Lulu and Athena in the middle seat. Make sure you use the leash on the seat belt to hold them in the seats.” I wasn’t worried about Athena jumping back out, but Lulu was curious and liked to explore.
“What about Cocoa?” Ava asked, patting the border collie’s head.
“She’ll help me.” I handed the pin bucket to Cocoa. She grasped the handle in her mouth and followed along as I pulled the pins out of the panels and dropped them in the bucket. When the pen was dismantled, Rudy walked up.
“Need help?” He picked up two of the panels under one arm and two more under the other.
“I can always use help at the end of the day.” I grabbed two panels, one under each arm. We carried them back to the van, where Ava stood petting Athena and Lulu.
“Looks like you have a groupie,” Rudy said.
“What’s a groupie?” Ava asked.
“It’s someone who follows singers or actors around everywhere they go,” I said, giving Rudy a stern look.
“I don’t follow you around.” Ava stood with her hands on her hips. “That’s rude to do. Mommy said so.”
“My brother didn’t mean what he said. He didn’t know you were helping me.” I wondered why Mrs. Sheffield would need to tell someone they were rude for following her or someone else around.
“You can go now, Ava.” I pulled a five-dollar bill out of my pocket and handed it to the child. “Thank you for helping me put the animals in the van.”
“Wow! This is for me?” The child’s face beamed.
“Yes. You were a big help. Now my brother is here to help me finish loading the panels.” At that moment, he arrived with the last four panels under his arms.
“Thanks!” Ava took off running down the sidewalk.
“Where do you think she’s going to spend that?” Rudy asked.
“I don’t know, but I turned her day around. That’s what matters.” I straightened the panels on the trailer. “If you go grab the totes, I’ll buy you pizza for dinner.”
“A large Everything But The Kitchen Sink?” he asked.
“If that’s what you want.”
“Deal!” Rudy jogged back to where the pen had been set up and returned with the two totes. Once it was all tied down, I told him. “Come to my house in thirty minutes.”
“See you there.”
I climbed into the van. As I pulled away from the curb, the man from the morning, who had rushed by with a Santa suit over his arm, strode out onto the sidewalk without a Santa suit and an angry face that made me wonder how he could have been picked as Santa.
Chapter Two
“Want to go to the tree lighting tonight?” Rudy asked as he leaned back in his chair after eating all but two pieces of a large Everything But The Kitchen Sink pizza.
I’d eaten the two pieces before Rudy devoured the rest. I sipped my white wine and debated about going back out. The day had been chilly but tolerable. Tonight would be colder, but I’d only be standing in the cold for about an hour, not seven hours. This would be my first tree lighting since I moved back. I remembered the awe and thrill as a child watching the town Christmas tree light up. The festival and lights always put me in the holiday spirit. Something that had been hard for me since losing Mick.
