Ernst A Founders' Day Death (Mt. Abrams Mysteries, #2)

1. Auflage 2016
ISBN: 978-0-9970514-1-4
Verlag: 235 Alexander Street
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: Adobe DRM (»Systemvoraussetzungen)

E-Book, Englisch, 150 Seiten

Founder's Day weekend was always a big deal in Mt. Abrams, and not even the discovery of along-buried skeleton in Emma McLaren's garden was enough to cancel the yearly celebration. But when a newly murdered corpse was found dumped in a rowboat the morning of the Founder's Day Parade, everything came to a screeching halt
Ellie Rocca was convinced the murders were connected, but how? Detective Sam Kinali had taken the lead on the case, and politely but firmly told Ellie not to get involved. But that was easier said than done, especially since Ellie and her friends know the killer won't be uncovered until they found out who was buried in Emma's Garden.
This novella is 31K words. It is the second book in the Mt. Abrams Mystery Series.

Autoren/Hrsg.

Ernst, Dee

Leseproben

Chapter 3
The thing about Friday night of Founders’ Day weekend was that lots of people got free meals. Practically everyone with an entry for the Best Decorated House had some sort of food or drink available for visitors, because walking around and looking at all the houses and noshing at each entry was a generally accepted practice. Nobody was denied, because you never knew who was judging. This was fact was taken advantage of by several less than honest Mt. Abrams residents who had no interest in house decorations at all, but were simply trolling for free food and drink. Certain individuals were notorious. Gary Koch, for instance, was known to ask for Tupperware containers so he could take food home with him. Louise Lombardi was usually so drunk by the time she made it to my house that she would often pass out on my couch. I always found a thank-you note taped to the refrigerator door when she left in the morning. So Friday night often found me surrounded by people I didn’t know very well because, if I say so myself, my pulled pork was something of a local legend. My friends would all there of course, having walked their kids up to the clubhouse and dropped them off. The little ones stayed on the beach and lawn, where there were games and booths and even pony rides. The older kids went up on the screened porch and waited for the DJ to crank up the music, which usually happened around nine. From my yard, you got a bird’s eye view of everything that was happening, which made it a perfect place to hang out. This particular Friday night was made special by the appearance of Madam President herself, Sharon Butler. I thought she was just there for the food, but it turned out, she was after Sam. Living in a community as small as Mt. Abrams, there were very few secrets, and pretty much everyone knew that I was seeing a police detective. Sharon, having no luck with whoever was in authority at the scene down on Davis Road, was obviously trying to get some assistance through more personal if indirect means. She shamelessly introduced herself to Sam, lowered herself into a wicker chair right next to him, and went to work. “Sam, I know we’ve just met, but I’m President of Founders’ Day, and I could really use your help. The police officers at Emma McLaren’s refuse to tell me when they will be out of there, and there’s a parade scheduled for ten o’clock tomorrow, and I need Davis Road clear.” She was open, honest, and completely sincere. She was just barking up the wrong tree. It was still light out, although my solar lights were starting to flicker on. I could see Sam’s face. He looked sympathetic and obviously amused. “Sharon, it’s a pleasure to meet you, but I’m afraid I can be of no help. I am not involved in what’s going on down there, and even if I was, the FBI has now stepped in. As local law enforcement, I’d have little or no say. Sorry.” She made a face. She was very pretty, weighed close to three hundred pounds, and always looked like she’d stepped out of a magazine. Even tonight, in eighty-degree heat, and after running all over Mt. Abrams checking on things, her make-up was perfect, her hair sleek and bouncy, and her linen outfit relatively unwrinkled. “But Sam,” she said, leaning toward him, “it’s Founders’ Day. Didn’t Ellie explain to you how important this weekend is?” Sam chuckled. He had been drinking beer for a few hours now, and was probably as close to drunk as I’d ever seen him. Not that he was slurring his words or anything, but he was…relaxed, his usual high-energy demeanor was dialed down. “Ellie explained everything to me. Several times, in fact. I’m still in a state of disbelief over some of the things she has told me to expect. So I sympathize with you. Really. But I’m not so important that I can tell anyone, let alone the FBI, what to do.” Aggie Martin and Rita Ferris had come by earlier, and were standing with my good friend Shelly Goodwin. All three of them immediately stopped talking as soon as Sharon made her pitch, and I could tell they were hanging on every word. “Sam, really,” Rita said. “Can we at least get them to turn off those spotlights? I don’t know how we’ll get to sleep tonight. We live next door, and it’s like daylight outside our window.” Sharon looked over at Rita. “Oh, that’s right. You’re next door to Emma.” Aggie nodded. They had eaten a bit of pulled pork earlier, and had a few beers. They had never hung out at my house before, usually just came by to see what the girls had done to the porch, but I wasn’t going to question them lingering. I had a hunch Aggie was a judge. She had looked very carefully at the way the girls had set up the lighting. Sam shrugged. “Ladies, you do understand that a body was found? It’s being treated as a crime scene until what happened there can be positively determined.” “That body is probably a hundred years old,” Aggie said. Sam leaned back and laced his fingers together. His body language changed slightly, and I could tell he’d slipped into a slightly more official mode. “I doubt that. Those lilac bushes, they’re not as old, surely? And the body was not buried all that deep. If it had been there a hundred years, the body would have been discovered when those lilacs were first planted.” “Sam,” I said accusingly, “you stopped to look?” He grinned. “Of course. Professional curiosity. And I chatted with Martin Feltz, the detective in charge.” “What did he say?” Sharon asked, somewhat breathlessly. “That they were trying to find the previous owner of the house,” Sam said. “Oh, we know where she’s living,” Rita said. “Jupiter, Florida. We still get a Christmas card from her every year. Paula was so nice to us when we first moved in. She used to bake us cookies every Sunday. But you can probably find her this weekend down on Blackburn staying with the Millers. Betty and Paula were great friends, and Paula comes up every year for Founders’ Day. ” Sam nodded encouragingly. “Really? On Blackburn? “ He looked at me, half-smiling. “People come back here for Founders’ Day?” “All the time. She was a very nice woman,” Shelly said. “ He was a real piece of, well, whatever.” “Oh yeah,” Aggie said. “He was cheating on her. With someone in Mt. Abrams. Well, that was the rumor anyway. She was the one who planted those lilac bushes. I remember helping her. That side yard was full of rocks. He never lifted a finger to help her. She did everything in that house. Remember Rita?” Rita nodded. “He was always down at Taylor's. That was a bar next to the train station. It was a real dive before Zeke bought it and turned it around. Walt Malleck was a mean drunk.” Sharon made a noise. “He was more than that. He was perverted. Evil.” Sam tilted his head. “That’s pretty strong.” Sharon shifted in her seat. “I grew up here. I knew all about him. He was a selfish bastard.” “Hey, no swearing in front of the innocents,” Marc called. He came into the yard with Tessa, Jerome, and Shelly’s youngest son, Greg. He’d picked them up from the carnival and walked with them through town, looking at the other house decorations. Tessa ran up to me, excited. “We are going to take first place. Absolutely. Nobody comes close.” I kissed her. “Really? You’re not just a little prejudiced?” Marc was by the keg, pouring himself a beer. “No, I think the girls have it wrapped up again this year. Right Jerome?” Jerome, his mouth full of...