Poor Mathilde chokes on her scone, and Kate pats her back to get her breathing again.
When Mathilde settles down, Kate exclaims, “You got St Margaret’s dead chef to cater the gala?”
Waving my hands, I explain, “Bartie helped me. You can thank him! It was Chef Smythe or the Mediterranean fish and chips truck. I didn’t have any alternative.”
Eyes wide, Kate shakes her head. “Only you would have the bollocks to pull it off, Nat.”
I can’t tell whether Kate means that as a good thing or a bad thing.
“No more talking about murder and death, you’re ruining my last chance to enjoy these scones. Let’s talk about something else. Do you have to move out of the flat now that the gala is over?” asks Mathilde.
“No, fortunately there’s no rush. They won’t need it until the summer term when they have a new faculty member joining.” I can’t imagine having to search for a place on top of everything else going on.
Nodding, Mathilde continues on, “Finding a flat in Oxford is a nightmare. What’s next on your list, Nat?”
Rubbing my feet, I list out my To Do items, “I have to wrap up the gala, finalise payments for all the vendors, send thank-you notes to high profile guests, that sort of thing. Once I get that out of the way, I offered to help Harry with the children’s Christmas party.”
“I love a good holiday bash,” sighs Mathilde wistfully.
“I used to love them, but after running Mickey and Minnie’s Holiday Party for seven solid weeks one year, I don’t find them quite as much fun as before. But at least that will be straightforward and simple. That’s it until the university closes for the holidays.”
Kate drains the last of her tea, setting her mug on the end table and sitting up straight. “I wouldn’t get your heart set on relaxing too much over the holidays. Now that the gala is behind us, we need to turn all of our attention to figuring out who, or what, is damaging our magical field.”
Mathilde’s face drains of colour. “You’re right, Kate. The safety and security of Oxford is resting on our shoulders. We need to get the magical field working properly before something else gets stolen… or worse yet, before someone else dies.”
“I’ve been thinking about that,” I say. “We know the problem is in London, but we don’t know why or how. I don’t think we will understand how someone or something could shift the magical perimeter unless we learn how it was set up in the first place.”
Mathilde pauses, deep in thought. “That’s a good point, Nat. I suggest we start at one of the oldest colleges first. Their archives will naturally go back the furthest in time. It will save us haring off on a wild goose chase. I do not want to take H to London if we can avoid it.”
After seeing H’s performance on the dance floor, I’m in full agreement. I still need to bone up on my Oxford history, but I suspect my next big event assignment might help us along the way. Leaning forward, I ask, “Isn’t Barnard one of the older colleges?”
Mathilde, as always, has the answer ready. “Some would say the oldest, so yes.” Her eyes go out of focus, a sure sign her mind is wandering. “That’s exactly the place we need to start. I wonder what kind of excuse we could manufacture to convince them to let us have full access to everything they have in their archives?”
“How about planning Barnard College’s annual black-tie dinner next term?” I offer. “I’ll have an all-access pass to every room within the college while I’m organising the event. I’ll arrange for a tour of the grounds before the holidays so I can learn my way around. We can put together our research plans between now and Christmas. We’ll be ready to get to work as soon as the college reopens in January.”
Mathilde and Kate nod furiously, both in full agreement with my plan.
After a moment of silence, Kate pipes up, “Seeing the Eternals tonight, I think you’ve strengthened the magic at St Margaret enough to make it safe once again, at least temporarily. I never met him, but I bet if your grandfather were here, he would be proud of you, Nat.”
“Aww, thanks, Kate. I couldn’t have done it without the two of you, H, Harry and Edward.” I sniffle back a tear.
Kate gives my shoulder a quick squeeze, “So that settles it, our next stop is Barnard College. We can work together to find out everything there is to know about how the magic works. And hopefully, we can restore the magic at Iffley College and find out who’s responsible for the thefts of the missing portrait and artefacts.”
Raising a finger, I add, “And don’t forget about St Margaret’s antique candelabra that’s missing from the High Table.”
THE END
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Mince Pies and the Missing Santa
An Oxford Key Mystery Short Story
Nat thinks helping Harry with the annual Children’s Christmas party at St Margaret will be easy as mince pie. But when Santa fails to show, Nat has to call in favours from everyone she knows to save the event from certain disaster. Mathilde is happy to dress-up as an elf and H is wearing antlers. But Kate is more interested in getting Bartie to stand under the mistletoe than helping out.
If Nat can save the day, she needs to find a new Santa… but can she convince a certain tall, dark-haired Criminology Professor to lend a hand?
This short story is available
