In one of my favorite children’s books about a frog and a toad, one of them asks the other if he doesn’t like to be scared, to have the shivers? Well, no, thank you, his friend doesn’t! But most of us do, if that means a delicious little chill running down the spine while knowing we are not in any danger. Cozy mysteries provide that kind of shiver. We sit, safe and snug, in our favorite chair with a cup of coffee or glass of tea at hand, and read about the heroine facing danger and coming through unscathed.
In the current cozy I’m writing, Moonlight Can Be Murder, Ned sees that white, wispy figure again out by the carriage house. The time is close to midnight, the night is cold, and she is alone.
“Like a full moon, the dusk to dawn light illuminated the yard, throwing long shadows of trees and bushes across the lawn and sidewalk.
I saw nothing alarming. Penny’s imitation of a bottle brush must have been caused by her imagination. Perhaps she had a bad dream too. I was turning away from the window when, in the edge of my vision, I glimpsed a movement. My heart in my throat, I drew the curtain aside and stared into the night.
A figure in white moved swiftly and silently from behind the pines and disappeared inside the carriage house. Pressing my hands together to still their shaking, I stood like a statue, gazing at the ramshackle building. I was almost afraid to blink, afraid I would miss seeing it again, but the figure did not emerge.
Should I dial Cade? Did I dare go upstairs for my gun? Afraid to take my eyes off the carriage house for even an instant, I discarded both ideas. Besides, that slight, silent shape did not seem threatening to me, not like Vermouth or the Ralston man.
Fear, mixed with curiosity and a rising anger that someone or some thing would trespass and find it necessary to sneak around in the dark instead of coming to my door, gave me a courage I didn’t know I possessed.
“Please, Lord,” I whispered, “Protect me and help me find out what is going on.”
Remembering the squeak in the front door, I slipped out through the kitchen and tiptoed down the back porch steps, keeping in the shadow of the house. Darting from porch shadow to tree, to bush, scrunching down and hiding as much as possible, I reached the carriage house.
The intruder had not needed to open its wide door that hung by its hinges. The gap between door and building was plenty wide enough for a person to pass. Holding my breath, I cautiously edged through the opening.
At first, I couldn’t see anything, since the interior was dark except for the yard light slanting in through cracks in the wall and the broken window, but then I heard a skittering, shuffling sound, and a small whimper, like a puppy lost from its mother.
Straining my ears, my eyes probed the darkness. No movement, no noise, nothing. Then, the sound came again, and this time it was a voice, a woman’s thin, frightened voice.
“I’ve got to find it,” she murmured, then, frantically, “I must find it!”
Chills chased each other up and down my spine. I hadn’t taken time to throw on my coat but I shivered, not from the cold, but horror. What or who was in the loft?”
Okay, that gave Ned the shivers. Did it give you the shivers too? I hope so!
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