The Case of the Missing Elf: a Melanie Hart Mystery (Melanie Hart Cozy Mysteries Book 2) by Anna Drake Page A

desire to turn around and flee. But I let Porter lead me further into the small living room where he waved me toward a worn out couch. I perched along its front edge. No way was I leaning back in the thing. The sofa looked like it predated the house, and I doubted a vacuum cleaner had waived its magic wand anywhere near it in decades. The table next to the couch sported a couple of plates with dried up food and silverware.
    “Can I get you some coffee?” he asked.
    Not on your life, I thought. “No thank you. I just had some.”
    “Then let’s get to it.” Porter slapped his hands onto his knees and sank into a faded armchair. “What is it you want to know?”
    “I’m wondering what kind of a man Scroggins was. A lot of people know he was the Christmas elf. But I wanted our readers to get a sense of the real man behind that role.”
    Porter nodded and pushed a clump of greasy hair off his forehead. “Barnaby was a good guy. Helpful. He took care of his friends, too. He was gonna take real good care of me. And just my luck, now he’s dead.”
    “What was he going to do for you?”
    Porter pulled a face. “He had a real solid plan. We was gonna start a business. Earn us some money. Now, though.” He shrugged. “Well, I guess that’s all history.”
    “It takes money to start a business. I thought Scroggins was broke.”
    “Not a chance. Never. Only last week, he won big at one of them riverboat casinos over in Hadleyville.”
    “How big?”
    Porter pulled his long frame upright and grinned at the memory. “Almost nine thousand bucks.”
    “That is a lot of money.”
    “I’ll say.”
    “And he was going to pump his win into a business venture?”
    Porter’s head bobbed up and down. “He was gonna buy that old warehouse on the east side of town.”
    “Really?” The warehouse had been abandoned along with several large buildings when a small manufacturing plant pulled up stakes and moved away more than a decade ago. Even so, I doubted nine thousand dollars would come close to buying the building. This was getting interesting. “What did he plan to do with the place?”
    “He wanted rent out space to antique dealers and craft people. I was gonna toss in a couple of dollars of mine. We was both gonna get rich, see?”
    Considering Porter’s living conditions, I wondered how he could have any free cash to  spare, or if he did, if Scroggins was planning to fleece this poor fellow, too. Wendy had said her cousin had done so before. I couldn’t see any reason why he wouldn’t do so again. Had Porter spotted the plan? Had he then killed Scroggins before the man could make off with his cash?
    I pushed on, “Did Scroggins have a good track record with setting up businesses? Did you check his background?”
    “Nah, didn’t need to. The thing couldn’t fail. Not with him at the head, see?”
    “Still, starting up an operation like you’ve described was ambitious,” I said. “I’m surprised Scroggins would want to take on such a large project at his age.”
    Porter chuckled, a low, oddly ominous sound. “Huh. That shows what you know. Barnaby had more energy than a teenager. Always did. He got even more ramped up after all that gambling money landed in his lap. Besides, he had that young kid to do his legwork.”
    “Who was that?”
    “A boy named Jeremy. A teenager. That’s all I know.”
    I frowned. “Still, I’m sure an old building like that warehouse would have needed a lot of work. Even if he managed to buy the place, how could he afford to fix it up? It’s been empty for more than a decade. Revamping it would take more than a can of paint or two. Where was Scroggins going to come up with that money?”
    “Barnaby said he’d have everything covered.” Porter raised a finger and tapped his noggin. “A clever man, that’s what Barnaby was.”
    “And you believed him?”
    “Always. The man was rolling in cash. So if he said he could fix the warehouse up, I never doubted him. Plus, he