Lacey and Peter stared at the torn strip of material Peter now held in his hand.

  ‘Jinxy’s coat? Are you sure?’ she asked.

  ‘Oh yes, definitely. Look at the embroidered robin here, with part of a star on top. This was torn from her coat.’

  She took the strip of thick material from him, studying it closely. Frayed edges stirred in the breeze. At the bottom, there was a drip of something strange. She turned it around. The back bottom was discoloured by a large, green splotch.

  ‘Is that paint?’

  Peter pulled off a glove to rub the edge between his fingers. Then he lifted them to his nose and sniffed.

  ‘Yes, it is. It seems like the same kind of paint we use in the workshop.’

  Lacey huffed out her breath. ‘I guess it doesn’t mean that much then. Jinxy could’ve spilled paint on it at any point.’

  ‘No, I wouldn’t say that. She was extremely proud of this coat. She would never have let paint sit on it. Besides, the elves take off their coats when they enter the workshop. Nobody works with an outdoor coat on.’

  It was true. She had seen the row of hooks holding coats leading into the workshop. Why, she had even hung her own coat on one.

  Lacey turned, scanning the Wasteland, before returning her gaze to the bush. ‘How could Jinxy possibly have gotten a bit of her coat torn off here? The material’s so thick, the bush’s twigs would’ve broken before the fabric tore. And why here?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Peter admitted. ‘But I can say that we can officially be concerned about her now.’

  ‘Only now?’ Lacey gave him an astonished look.

  ‘I know, I know,’ he defended. ‘I guess you were right all along.’

  At any other point his admission might have been more gratifying, but now Lacey only felt a deep regret. Jinxy’s safety was worth more than any personal satisfaction she might have derived from being right.

  He pulled his glove back on, folding the patch of fabric and pushing it into a pocket. Deep furrows cut across his forehead. ‘Well, I’d better go get our men together. We need to send out search parties again.’

  ‘Will you check the Wasteland as well this time?’

  He frowned, gazing out over the beginnings of the Wasteland as he thought. ‘Maybe.’

  ‘Maybe?’ Lacey’s voice rose. ‘What do you mean maybe? Did you not notice where we found the piece of her coat?’

  ‘I know, Lacey, I know.’ Tension laced his voice too. ‘I just can’t imagine why she would go here. Even she should know better than to interfere with the Abominable Snowman.’

  ‘Would she? I don’t know her as well as the rest of you, but I know enough to at least entertain the possibility.’

  He huffed in frustration, looking from the Wasteland to the village and back, obviously itching to get going with the search teams. Hands on her hips, Lacey stared him down. Maybe she was the outsider here, but this was such an obvious call.

  ‘Okay, fine,’ he said. ‘Tell you what, we’ll sweep the Wasteland’s edge. But unless we have certainty that she’s in there, we’re going no further. It’s too dangerous.’

  She closed her eyes and nodded, her shoulders relaxing. It wasn’t perfect, but it was something. For a moment, she simply stood in the cold stillness. ‘Well, let me get back to the workshop then. Lest someone accuse me of canoodling instead of working.’

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  Opening her eyes, she found him staring intently at her face, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth despite the urgency he felt. She gave a small grin back. Cynthie’s remark was still embarrassing, but the reality of Jinxy being in danger did a lot to put it into perspective. It was fine.

  ??

  Lacey walked into the workshop’s vestibule, knocking the snow from her boots before slipping them off by the rack. Lingering a moment, she studied the hooks and coats before hanging hers as well. Nothing obvious came to mind.

  The heat of the workshop washed over her in a welcome wave after her early morning outside. And she’d missed breakfast too, she realised. Oh well. She’d just have to hold on for the reindeer munch at lunch. Peter did say it was good, even if Cynthie didn’t want it.

  Sitting down at her workbench she cast a sad glance at the empty spot beside her. No sign of Jinxy, and no Elf either. Maybe he was helping with the search.

  She hoped Jinxy was okay, even as it became more unlikely with every passing hour. She blinked away the sting in her eyes and got to work, doing her best to ignore her stomach’s hungry rumbling.

  It was tough. When had skipping breakfast become a problem for her? It must be all the stupidly delicious food she’d been eating since she’d arrived. She steeled herself and kept working. Only a couple of hours till lunch, she kept reminding herself.

  She was busy with the stitching on her third doll when a shadow fell over her.

  ‘By the Saints, eat! Just eat, will you? I can’t take it anymore. Here, have some food.’ Cynthie briskly unpacked her lunchbox onto Lacey’s desk.

  ‘What? Cynthie, no. I’m fine – I promise.’ Why was everything she did a personal irritation to Cynthie?

  Cynthie picked up a jar filled with a mysterious mix and briskly unscrewed the cap, grabbing a fork and sticking it in.

  ‘Are we even allowed to eat in here? Cynthie, I can’t have your food!’

  ‘We’re not, and you’re going to do it anyway. How am I supposed to work with your stomach grumbling in my ears. Jeez, just have it, will you?’

  If it had been anyone else, Lacey might’ve taken them up on their offer. But Cynthie’s words from earlier still stung.

  ‘No,’ she said, firmly pushing the container back towards Cynthie.

  ‘Yes,’ Cynthie said, slamming it back down in front of her.

  ‘No!’

  ‘Yes!’

  ‘For the love of all that’s holy!’ Both Lacey and Cynthie jumped as Bethy suddenly screamed right beside them, her voice cracking like a whip through the space. Belatedly, Lacey realised that the whole workshop had gone quiet. Everyone was staring at the unfolding spectacle.

  Bethy clenched the edge of the desk, giving the two of them the death stare. ‘You. Will. Both. Eat.’

  Cynthie’s legs folded in on her, plopping her down on the bench beside Lacey. ‘But Bethy, I’m not hungry yet,’ she tried to protest.

  ‘EAT!’

  Giving Lacey a wide-eyed look, Cynthie reached for a spoon, scooped out some food and inserted it into her mouth. Lacey followed suit with her fork.

  Bethy sagged inward. ‘Good.’

  ‘Uh Bethy? Are you okay?’ Danji spoke from the other side of them.

  Chewing, Lacey clearly saw Bethy for the first time that day. Her normally luscious, thick black hair was tied in an unkempt knot, and her eyes were puffy and ringed with dark circles.

  Bethy sighed. ‘I’m just tired. It’s been a hard few days.’

  ‘With Jinxy gone?’ Lacey guessed. ‘I’m so sorry Bethy.’

  Danji and Cynthie also nodded in sympathy, Danji throwing an arm around Bethy’s shoulders.

  ‘You need some sleep, Bethy,’ she said. ‘Let me take you home.’

  Vigorously shaking her head, Bethy said, ‘No, Danji. I need to work. How will we get all the toys done?’

  ‘At least lie down for a bit.’ At that moment the lunch whistle blew. ‘You can nap through lunch. Come, I’ll spread some blankets in the small storage room.’

  ‘I suppose,’ Bethy said, allowing herself to be led away.

  A clattering noise drew Lacey’s attention back to Cynthie, who had dropped her spoon into the now-empty jar. ‘I guess I’m having Reindeer Munch after all,’ she said, the corners of her lips pulling down sourly.

  ‘I guess,’ Lacey said, eyeing her empty spoon. She still had no idea what that food in Cynthie’s jar was, but it had been quite delicious. Under any other circumstance, she would’ve relished the meal.

  Sighing, Cynthie got up and walked away, leaving her lunchbox and its contents on Lacey’s desk. Not knowing what else to do, Lacey packed it up and deposited it back on Cynthie’s bench, exhaling.

  The unexpectedly explosive situation had been quietly defused. She brushed a few crumbs from her short elven skirt, trying to pretend that hadn’t just been the most awkward snack time of her life. Why, she could just imagine the look on Robert Wesstlar’s face if that had happened at her firm on Earth!

  Her stomach gave a little twist. She was still hungry. Waiting another moment to make sure that Cynthie had a good head start, she followed the others to the lunchroom, stopping to wash her hands in the communal basin. Distracted by what had just happened, it took her a moment to realise that the water was turning green.

  Blinking, she looked up into the face of Albyrne. The wizened leprechaun was vigorously rubbing his hands together, washing off the green paint that coated them.

  ??????

  What do you think – does Albyrne’s green paint explain the mystery on Jinxy’s coat, or is it just a coincidence?

  Every clue seems to lead deeper into the Village… and sometimes, the simplest answers hide the biggest surprises.

  Mystery at Santa’s Village, please take a moment to leave a rating or comment. It truly helps the story reach more readers. ???