A Catered Christmas Cookie Exchange (A Mystery With Recipes) by Isis Crawford

things in the kitchen. At least that way the morning wouldn’t be a total loss.

    Fifteen minutes later an extremely grumpy, pajama-clad Brandon arrived at the scene. Bernie ran over and kissed him as soon as he got out of his Jeep.
    “Thank you,” she cried.
    “This better be good,” Brandon said as he zipped up his parka. He’d gotten to bed just three hours ago. “I closed last night.”
    “I didn’t know anyone else to call,” Bernie said. “And you do know about this stuff.”
    “That was ten years ago.”
    Bernie gave him her most charming smile. “But you still know more than I do.”
    Brandon looked at her for a moment and said, “Sometimes being your boyfriend really is a pain in the butt.”
    “That’s so mean, Brandon.”
    “But so true, Bernie. Show me what your problem is so that I can take care of it and go back to bed.”
    “You heard about Millie, right?”
    “I heard that she was in a car accident.”
    “We think that accident might have been caused,” Bernie said. And then she went into her explanation.
    Libby decided, judging from Brandon’s facial expression as Bernie talked, that he seemed as impressed by Bernie’s theory as Matt had been. Libby watched from the warmth of the van as he and Bernie tramped into the woods to look at the deer target. Then he came out and carefully began walking along the road. Bernie walked with him.
    “What are we looking for?” she asked.
    “Something to tie the target in place or give it some stability. Maybe a rope or a wooden platform with wheels. Ordinarily, you wouldn’t need something like that because these things come with a base, but it was really windy last night and there’s a good chance the target would have tipped over,” Brandon said. He kept his eyes down on the road as he spoke.
    Bernie did likewise. The two of them walked in silence down the stretch of road that encompassed the area between where Millie had hit the tree and the telephone pole several yards away.
    “Even if we don’t find anything, that doesn’t prove I’m wrong,” Bernie said to Brandon. “A negative doesn’t prove a positive.”
    “But it doesn’t disprove it either,” Brandon said. “Can we please just concentrate on the road?”
    “We are concentrating on the road,” Bernie said.
    “Not if we’re talking we’re not,” Brandon told her.
    “So you’re saying you want me to shut up?” Bernie asked.
    “Well, I wouldn’t have put it that way, but yes I do.”
    “Fine,” Bernie huffed. “All you had to do was ask.”
    “I am asking,” Brandon said.
    Bernie pressed her lips together, made an imaginary locking motion with her thumb and forefinger, and threw the key away.
    “You don’t have to be that dramatic,” Brandon said.
    “Shush,” Bernie said, pressing her forefinger to her lips again and making a big show of staring at the ground.
    Five minutes later, Bernie and Brandon saw what they were searching for.
    “Look,” Bernie said, pointing at a large rock outcropping that had a length of twine tied around its base.
    “I see it,” Brandon said as he moved toward it.
    Once he was in front of it, he squatted down for a better look. Bernie joined him.
    “Millie would have seen the target, not the rope that was securing it,” she mused.
    Brandon grunted, picked up the rope, and pointed to the end. “Somebody cut this with a knife.”
    “Meaning?” Bernie asked.
    “Meaning,” he said, “that whoever set the target up didn’t want to take the time to undo his knots.”
    Bernie grinned. “So that means that I’m right,” she said triumphantly.
    “No,” Brandon said. “But it doesn’t mean you’re wrong either.” Then Brandon got up and walked over to the other side of the road.
    “What are you doing?” Bernie asked.
    “Looking for another rope anchored to another rock on this side. Now, that would lend more weight to what you’re suggesting.”
    Bernie got up and joined Brandon, but neither she nor he saw