Ernst A Deadly New Year (Mt. Abrams Mysteries, #4)

1. Auflage 2016
ISBN: 978-0-9970514-7-6
Verlag: 235 Alexander Street
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: Adobe DRM (»Systemvoraussetzungen)

E-Book, Englisch, 100 Seiten

Ellie Rocca is spending the New Year's with Sam Kinali in a romantic Vermont inn for a murder mystery weekend with his law school friends. Practically perfect, right? It is, until a real dead body turns up. It's pretty much an open and shut case. The killer has to be one of the inn's guests, but Sam can't get any of them to start talking. Ellie and Sam find themselves working together to find the murderer, but just when they're getting close, an arrest is made. Back in Mt. Abrams, both of them know the Vermont police have the wrong man. Returning to the scene of the crime takes them back into danger, but that's the only way to find out which of Sam's friends is a killer in disguise. This novella is 25K words long, and is the fourth in the Mt. Abrams Mystery Series.

Autoren/Hrsg.

Ernst, Dee

Leseproben

Chapter 1
My daughter, Tessa, was watching me pack. She was eleven, just on the edge of becoming totally unbearable. I was stupid, lame, didn’t understand, never let her do anything, hated puppies…you name something awful, I did it, said it, or felt it. Having already raised another daughter, Caitlyn, to full adulthood, I knew that Tessa would someday stop thinking I was the worst mother in the world. I was just hoping it wouldn’t take as long as it took Cait. “I don’t know why I can’t come with you,” she said. Again. “I could ski while you play at your lame mystery.” I sighed patiently. Again. “We’re really not close to any ski places.” “Mom, Vermont is, like, tiny. How far away from anything can you be?” “I would have to go with you, Tessa. It’s not like I can just drop you off at the base of a mountain, then pick you up at the end of the day.” “So what’s wrong with hanging out in the ski lodge? Cait said you did it all the time when she and Daddy went.” I had recently purchased a very expensive piece of lingerie, black with a bit of lace that was sitting in my drawer, waiting to be moved to my suitcase. If I did it in front of Tessa, I’d never hear the end of it. If I didn’t pack it now, the odds were stacked against me remembering to do it even, say, ten minutes from now. “This is not a family vacation, Tessa. This is a weekend for Sam and I to spend together. There’s a difference.” I opened the drawer, There it lay, a wisp of black satin, guaranteed to look amazing for the maybe fifty seconds I’d be wearing it before it ended up as a heap on the floor. I covered it with flannel jammie pants, rolled it tightly, then tucked it carefully into the corner of my suitcase. “Then do you promise I can going skiing with Aunt Suzie over break?” “Sure,” I said as I carefully zipped the suitcase closed. “Promise.” She sighed, rather elaborately, then slid off the bed and slouched out of the bedroom. Tessa would be spending New Years Eve with her much older sister, Cait, and her boyfriend Kyle right here in Mt. Abrams. Cait had no problem with my going off for a few days with Sam, because it meant she and Kyle would have the run of the house. I knew they were having sex. She was a grown woman, and Kyle was the only man in her life. I didn’t mind. Tessa, queen of the sleepover, wouldn’t blink. But I knew there would be people in Mt. Abrams who would raise their eyebrows and murmur…Ellie left for a weekend? And put her daughter in charge of that little girl? And the daughter was sleeping with… Mt. Abrams, for all its quaint charm and illusion of perfect small-town-America, was like any other small town, which meant people lived to watch, judge, and gossip. Luckily, I didn’t care all that much. I carried the suitcase downstairs to set it by the front door. Cait was in front of the fireplace, reading. She was a teacher and had spent her entire Christmas break in front of the fire with her Kindle, when not off with Kyle, of course. “When is Sam coming?” she asked. “About ten minutes. When is Kyle coming?” She grinned. “Well, I guess in about fifteen minutes. He’s at his parents.” “Are you going to throw a wild party here Saturday night?” She snorted. “Oh, yeah. That’s me all right. A wild party person.” “I wouldn’t mind if you had some friends over.” “I know. But Tessa has never seen The Lord of the Rings movies, so we may do a marathon. Kyle is pretty excited about it.” I shook my head. “You are such geeks, I can’t stand it.” I saw Sam’s car pull up. “Tessa, kiss.” She came down the steps, allowed me a hug and kiss on the forehead, then flew back upstairs. I hugged Cait, gave a quick pat on the head to Boot, the most adorable and spoiled cocker spaniel on the planet, and then opened the door. Sam, grinning, reached for my suitcase. “Ready?” I grabbed my coat. “Absolutely.” And we were off. There are certain places where, if you’re driving through them, you should automatically add three hours to the estimated drive time. Places liked Connecticut. Which is why we arrived at Manchester, Vermont at eight in the evening instead of just in time for cocktail hour. We had stopped at around six thirty at a diner, simply because I was getting hungry and cranky, and Sam knew if I wasn’t fed, things could get ugly. During that half hour, it started to snow. When we pulled up in front of the inn, the snow was getting thick, and it was cold. Very cold. Sam dropped me off at the front door, and I ran up the stone steps and into Chilton House. The house looked like a storybook. I’d been on the website, of course, and knew the history of Chilton House. Built in 1908 by a minor oil baron, it had eighteen rooms, seven of them guest rooms with private baths, all carefully renovated to recapture the house’s former elegance. The pictures on my computer screen had looked perfectly nice, but in real life, the foyer, which was as large as my living room and served as the lobby, was stunning. There was a fire in the marble fireplace and classical music playing in the background. The Christmas tree in the corner was decorated by the very-good-taste fairy. Something that looked like a bar from a Victorian brothel served as a check-in desk and counter. Four overstuffed chairs were grouped around the fireplace, a perfect place to stretch out after a long drive. I shook off my coat and moved in that general direction as a woman came bustling up. “Are you Ellie? You’re the last to arrive. We were getting worried. I’m Meg. Here, let me take your coat. Where’s Sam? Parking the car? I’ll send Rob out to help him. Come through here and I’ll bring you something. Tea? Hot cider? Wine?” She was young, probably not thirty, dressed in corduroy pants and a Fair Isle sweater. She was one of the owners, I knew. She certainly was good at the Welcome part of her job. “Hot cider would be great,” I said and followed her through an archway festooned with pine garlands into an even larger, more comfortable room filled with people I didn’t know. Sam had made the arrangements for our weekend. Apparently, every year his law school roommate, Bradley Bishop, planned a New Year’s…something. Once it was a penthouse overlooking Times Square to watch the ball drop. In the past there had also been cruises, skiing, and trips to Disney World. This year, he had rented out an entire bed and breakfast, invited all the regular law school cronies, and hired someone to create a murder-mystery weekend. Sam had been on a few other New Year’s Extravaganzas in the past, but when he was invited to this one, he didn’t hesitate to RSVP. I’m a pretty social person, but staring down eight complete strangers was unnerving, especially since they all looked like they’d just stepped out of Town & Country magazine. I just stood, smiled, and waved. “Hey, I’m Ellie.” A short, round, bald man came bounding forward. ”Welcome! Sam has told us all about you. I’m Bradley. This is my little show. Where’s Sam?” “Parking the car.” I shook his hand. “Hi, Bradley.” I had already been warned. It was Bradley, not Brad. “Sam has told me all about you, too. This weekend sounds terrific.” I looked around. Sam had explained that he and Bradley had been part of the same study group all through law school, and they had all remained good friends. They kept in touch, met a few times a year, and really enjoyed each other’s company. I was never a fan of lawyers, but maybe that was a New Jersey thing, where lawyers had a tendency to be ranked right beneath village idiots on the statewide “deserves respect” scale. These were Sam’s friends and their spouses, and I was willing to give them all the benefit of the doubt. After all, he’d met all...