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MURDER ON 34TH STREET
Ho-Ho-Homicide Book 1
BY R.A. MUTH

BLURB

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MURDER ON 34TH STREET
Ho-Ho-Homicide Book 1
BY R.A. MUTH

Excerpt

Chapter 1

The thing about being an elf in a family of legendary toymakers is that everyone expects you to be legendary too. Spoiler alert: I’m not.

I’m Juniper Hollybright, and my greatest accomplishment this week was not gluing my fingers together while attaching wheels to a wooden train. My second-greatest accomplishment was remembering to eat lunch before three in the afternoon. ADHD and a workshop full of shiny distractions make for an interesting combination, like peppermint sticks and dill pickle spears. Technically possible, but nobody’s asking for it.

“Juniper!” My supervisor’s voice cut through the cheerful chaos of the North Pole Toy Factory’s main floor. “Those trains need to be on the sorting line in five minutes, not next Tuesday!”

“On it!” I called back, fumbling the train I’d literally just finished painting. It clattered to my workbench, leaving a festive streak of red across my apron on its way down. Perfect. Nothing says “professional toymaker” like looking like you lost a fight with a candy cane.

Around me, the factory hummed with its usual Christmas magic. Conveyor belts whisked completed toys toward the wrapping stations, where elves tied ribbons and made bows with the speed and precision of people who’d been doing this for centuries. Some of them had been. The warm glow from the workshop windows painted everything in shades of gold and amber, and the air smelled like cinnamon, fresh pine, and that slightly chemical scent of new paint that never quite leaves the toy factory.

I loved my job here. I was also terrible at it.

The train, which was attempt number four at getting it right, finally made it onto the belt without incident. I allowed myself a small moment of pride before checking my station assignment for the afternoon. Maybe I’d get moved to something less disaster-prone. Doll hair, perhaps. How much trouble could I get into with doll hair?

“Juniper Hollybright?” An unfamiliar voice made me jump, which sent my entire tray of paint pots wobbling. I caught them at the last second. See? I could have functional motor skills when it counted. When I turned, it was to find an elf I didn’t recognize standing near my bench.

She wore the pressed uniform of the Administrative Wing, all business and no paint stains. Behind her stood a young reindeer who was hyper focused on a piece of tinsel on the floor. A very young reindeer. Like, still-fuzzy-antler-nubs young.

“That’s me,” I said, wiping my hands on my already-ruined apron. “Did I miss a memo? Because I’m really good at missing memos. If missing memos was an Olympic sport, I’d have a string of gold medals.”

The reindeer looked up at me with huge brown eyes and made a soft chuffing sound that I chose to interpret as friendly.

“You’re assigned to Elias Gumdrop this afternoon,” the elf said crisply, checking her tablet and ignoring my commentary. “Ledger review in the Head Toymaker’s office. You’re to bring…” She glanced at the reindeer with visible skepticism. “Your assistant.”

“Pardon, but did you say assistant? I don’t have one.”

“You do now. The reindeer.” She said it as if having a reindeer assigned to me was perfectly normal information that I should already know.

The reindeer, apparently my assistant, wagged his tail.

“I don’t have an assistant,” I said slowly. “I barely have a workstation. Last week they moved me next to the furnace because I’m ‘better suited to isolated tasks.'” That had stung, honestly. The term isolated tasks was management-speak for we don’t trust you near anything important.

“You do now. Reindeer Training Program, Tier One. He’s been assigned to you for practical experience.” The woman thrust a folder at me. “His name is Figgy. Try not to lose him.”

She left before I could point out that I lost my lunch bag twice last week, so assigning me to keep track of a whole reindeer was setting the bar a little high. Okay. A lot high.

Figgy looked up at me and tilted his head, ears swiveling forward with interest.

“Hi, Figgy,” I said, crouching down to his eye level. “I’m Juniper, and I’m going to be honest with you. I have no idea what I’m doing most of the time, but I make a mean cup of cocoa. I’ve read every mystery novel in the North Pole public library. We’ll figure it out together. Deal?”

He booped my hand with his nose, which I took as a yes.

About Author R.A. Muth…

Links to R.A.’s websites, blogs, books, #ad, etc.:

Murder on 34th Street Preorder Link
https://beckymuth.com/HOHO-01

Ho-Ho-Homicide Playlist on Spotify
 https://beckymuth.com/hohomusic