by Tonya Kappes
Praise for the Kenni Lowry Mystery Series
“Fabulous fun and fantastic fried food! Kappes nails small town mystery with another must-read hit. (Also, I want to live in Cottonwood, KY.) Don’t miss this one!”
– Darynda Jones,
New York Times Bestselling Author of Eighth Grave After Dark
“Packed with clever plot twists, entertaining characters, and plenty of red herrings! Fixin’ To Die is a rollicking, delightful, down-home mystery.”
– Ann Charles,
USA Today Bestselling Author of the Deadwood Mystery Series
“Southern and side-splitting funny! Fixin’ To Die has captivating characters, nosy neighbors, and is served up with a ghost and a side of murder.”
– Duffy Brown,
Author of the Consignment Shop Mysteries
“This story offers up a small touch of paranormal activity that makes for a fun read…A definite “5-star,” this is a great mystery that doesn’t give up the culprit until the last few pages.”
– Suspense Magazine
“A Southern-fried mystery with a twist that’ll leave you positively breathless.”
– Susan M. Boyer,
USA Today Bestselling Author of Lowcountry Book Club
“A wonderful series filled with adventure, a ghost, and of course some romance. This is a hard book to put down.”
– Cozy Mystery Book Reviews
“Kappes captures the charm and quirky characters of small-town Kentucky in her new mystery…a charming, funny story with exaggerated characters. The dialect-filled quirky sayings and comments bring those characters to life.”
– Lesa’s Book Critiques
“With a fantastic cast of characters and a story filled with humor and murder you won’t be able to put it down.”
– Shelley’s Book Case
“Funny and lively...Before you blink, you’re three chapters down and you’re trying to peek ahead to see what happens next. Fast moving with great characters that you wish were real so that you might be able to visit with them more often.”
– The Reading Room
“Kappes is an incredible author who weaves fabulous stories…I can’t wait to see what she comes up next in this series.”
– Community Bookstop
“I am totally hooked. The people of Cottonwood feel like dear friends, and I enjoy reading about the latest happenings…The story is well-told, with plenty of action and suspense, along with just enough humor to take the edge off.”
– Book Babble
The Kenni Lowry Mystery Series
by Tonya Kappes
FIXIN’ TO DIE (#1)
SOUTHERN FRIED (#2)
AX TO GRIND (#3)
SIX FEET UNDER (#4)
DEAD AS A DOORNAIL (#5)
TANGLED UP IN TINSEL (#6)
DIGGIN’ UP THE DIRT (#7)
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Copyright
DIGGIN’ UP THE DIRT
A Kenni Lowry Mystery
Part of the Henery Press Mystery Collection
First Edition | May 2019
Henery Press, LLC
www.henerypress.com
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever, including internet usage, without written permission from Henery Press, LLC, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
Copyright © 2019 by Tonya Kappes
This is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Trade Paperback ISBN-13: 978-1-63511-483-6
Digital epub ISBN-13: 978-1-63511-484-3
Kindle ISBN-13: 978-1-63511-485-0
Hardcover ISBN-13: 978-1-63511-486-7
Printed in the United States of America
Chapter One
“That youngin’ is meaner than a rattlesnake. Givin’ Woody’s boy and Woody a fit all these years and the state pen let him out on good behavior.” Mama elbowed me in the back of the Cottonwood Funeral Home. She nodded towards Woody’s grandson, Rich Moss. “Done gone and put his daddy in the grave. Wouldn’t doubt it if he put Woody there too.”
“Mama,” I scolded her, though I had heard that Lenora and Woody’s only child had died of alcoholism years ago. “Don’t be speaking like that in front of the dead,” I warned and looked around to make sure no one else heard her. “Don’t be throwing that bad juju on me.” Chills ran up my spine and down my arms. “See what you did?” I lifted my prickly arm up to her face.
“Don’t be looking at me in that tone.” Mama’s right brow rose, in her forewarned you’re-never-too-old-for-a-scolding Mama way.
“Ah oh.” Myrna Savage, owner of Petal Pushers Florist, scurried past with an open heart-shaped mold of white roses and white carnations. You know, one of them that’s laid at the gravesite. “Someone is walking on someone’s grave.” Her brows lifted when she noticed me rubbing the goosebumps away.
“Hhhmmmm,” Mama’s lips pinched, her nose curled. “Who sent those?”
“Lulu McClain.” Myrna shrugged and headed straight up the middle row where Woody Moss laid in corpse, a polite, Southern way of saying “dead”. “Vivian, you sure are slacking.”
Mama watched in jealous silence as Myrna shimmied past the mourners and placed Lulu’s wreath at the foot of Woody’s casket.
“Which one did you send?” I asked, knowing the bigger the flower arrangement, the higher up in the social ladder you’d be that week.
“It doesn’t matter,” she quipped. “Where is your father? I’d like to get a seat up in the front before Preacher Bing starts the service.”
“I’m sure he’ll be here soon.” I sucked in a deep breath and wondered the exact same thing about Finn Vincent, my boyfriend.
The sound of curtains opening just behind the casket caught my and Mama’s attention.
“Well if I ain’t seen it all,” Mama gasped.
“What on earth is it?” I asked about the big window behind the curtains, which had a car pulled up to it looking right at Woody Moss.
“Max Bogus has gone on and put a drive-up window in the funeral home.” A look of disgust drew across her face. “Next thing you know, he’ll have the corpse sitting up, arm attached to a string like a puppet and waving somehow.”
I wasn’t sure whether to laugh or groan. It was the strangest thing I’d ever seen, especially when a bus from the Cottonwood Acres Rehabilitation Center pulled up and flung open the van door. The rehab center was more than just for therapies, it also had a small emergency room on one side. We didn’t have a hospital in Cottonwood and Dr. Camille Shively wasn’t open 24/7. We needed something for quick emergencies so that we don’t have to drive forty-five minutes to Clay’s Ferry or a bigger city close to Cottonwood.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Mama spat with disbelief.
“Now, Mama.” I patted her arm to get her to calm down. “Woody died in the rehab center and probably made some new, elderly friends that wanted to pay their respects.”
It was like a train wreck. Mama and me couldn’t stop gawking as t
he blue-hairs, the elderly, as they took a gander at Woody in his casket through the window.
“I’m telling you right now, hand to God,” Mama said and flung her hand up in the air, “If you let them do that to me, I swear I’ll haunt you the rest of your life.”
“Just like Poppa?” I asked.
“Huh?” She jerked around and looked at me.
“Joking,” I said, a flat out lie.
My Poppa, Mama’s dad and retired sheriff of Cottonwood, hadn’t necessarily been haunting me, but since I took over as sheriff, Poppa was my guardian angel deputy from the great beyond. Poppa only showed up when there were murders in Cottonwood and I was happy to report he wasn’t here today so that meant not only that Woody wasn’t murdered, but no one else in Cottonwood was either and all was well in our little town.
“If you’ll excuse me, I’d like to go give my condolences to the family,” I finished my sentence and wanted to get away before Mama realized what I’d said and questioned me further.
No one knew about me having the ability to see and visit with Poppa except Duke. Duke was my hound dog and I was sure he wasn’t going to say anything to anyone.
Mama didn’t say a word, so either she was still stewing over the fact that Lulu McLain was about to replace her on the top rung of the social status or that Daddy was late. Mama didn’t like to be late and that rule included Daddy, who she claimed was a direct reflection on her as well.
I didn’t want my relationship with Finn to be like that, so I took a deep breath and knew he’d get there when he could make it. After all, he was holding down the sheriff’s department while I’d taken the time to come here early and shake a few hands.
As the sheriff of Cottonwood, I had to attend every funeral, birth, baptism, and whatever else appealed to a family. It was, after all, those times that the good citizens of Cottonwood would remember when it was time for me to run for re-election in a couple of years. Little did I realize that my saturated childhood of “yes, ma’ams” and “no, sirs” along with the bit of Jesus that Mama beat into my head would all come in handy when running for an election around here.
Or maybe it was all the lessons, Lordy the lessons—piano lessons, tap lessons, modeling lessons, clogging lessons and handwriting lessons to mention a few—that added to the lunacy of my life that made me want to follow in the footsteps of my Poppa and not become a debutant, which was the very thing Mama was trying to make out of me by doing all them darned lessons.
The funeral home was packed, which made sense because funerals, weddings, and births were a big deal around these Kentucky parts. Woody Moss’s funeral would be front page news on the Cottonwood Chronicle and talk of the town down at Ben’s Diner. That’s just how it was.
“Hi, do.” I nodded and shook hands as I weaved in and out of the crowd, making my way back to the room where Woody’s family had gathered.
Even though I knew some of them people didn’t vote for me, I always remembered what Poppa would say to me during his election years – “Don’t cost a nickel to be polite.”
Having good manners and giving social grace was just a way of life around here. I was sure that was why there were so many people at funerals whether you knew them or not.
There was a line of folks giving their condolences and telling stories they had with Woody. I couldn’t offer any of those. He was an elderly man I really didn’t know other than when I talked with him about my Poppa’s reign as sheriff. Everyone loved Poppa. I made my way to the back of the family room and stood in line with my hands folded in front of me.
“I told you I did the best I could.” I couldn’t help but overhear a young woman with shoulder length blonde hair, fair skin, and the brightest of red lipstick on her lips talking to the man Mama pointed out as Woody’s grandson, Rich.
“If I find out that your best wasn’t good enough, they’ll be hell to pay,” Rich said to her through gritted teeth as she jerked her arm out of his grip.
“Is everything okay here?” Not that I wanted to butt my head into someone business, but if I noticed it was a little more physical than an average conversation, I’d stick my nose into it.
“What’s it to you?” Rich snarled.
“I might not have my plain brown uniform on,” I pulled back the blue blazer I was wearing and exposed my five-point star sheriff’s pin clipped to the waist of my blue skirt. “But I’m Sheriff Kenni Lowry and I sure hope nothing is going to get ugly while we are all paying our respects for you grandfather.” I took it a step further. “Especially since I understand you were let out of prison early for good behavior. What I just heard didn’t sound like good behavior.”
“I’m fine.” The girl shook her head and turned, going back out of the room.
“Is she fine?” I didn’t take my eyes off of Rich Moss.
He stood about five feet nine. Thick as a tree trunk and the blackest eyes I’d ever seen. He had olive skin and a five o’clock black shadow that seemed to be going on ten o’clock but wasn’t yet a full beard. He was shiny bald on top and had a tattoo that went from ear to ear around the back of his head.
“She walked out without a limp, didn’t she?” His cold words were like an ice cube dripping along my spine.
“I don’t expect to have any trouble out of you while you’re in town, right.” It wasn’t a real question. It was a threat, so he’d know that type of activity wasn’t welcomed here.
“Yes. Sheriff woman.” His lips curled up at the edges with a hint of laughter in his voice.
“Sheriff Lowry,” I corrected him and turned around when I felt someone come up behind me.
“There you are,” Finn said and smiled. “I saw Vivian and she’s not in a good mood. She’s trying to get Myrna to go back to Petal Pushers and make a bigger flower arrangement.” He laughed and suddenly stopped when he noticed I’d not tried to grin. “What’s wrong?”
“I’d like you to meet,” I started to introduce him to Rich Moss, but Rich was gone. “Never mind.” I shook my head and glanced around the room, not seeing him anywhere. “Did you get your parents settled?”
“You are going to have to brace yourself,” Finn warned with a slight smile, guiding me out of the room. “They drove their RV and parked it right in front of Mrs. Brown’s house.”
“Oh no,” I groaned, looking up at my six-foot-tall boyfriend, and knowing that she would be calling as soon as she saw it.
Mrs. Brown was the neighbor between my house and Finn’s house.
“I already went to see her and told her they’d only be here for a few days so they can meet you.” He melted my heart right there in the funeral home. His big brown eyes had a spark in them like a little boy that’d gotten exactly what he’d wanted.
Finn had wanted to me to meet his parents, who lived in Chicago, for a year or so now. We’d even made huge plans to be there over Christmas until the biggest blizzard to ever hit Kentucky blew in the day we were supposed to board the plane. Now, Mama was thrilled to death that it’d snowed to high-heaven because that meant we were stuck with her for Christmas.
“Where are they now?” I asked about his parents and pointed to a couple of seats near the front of the casket.
“They are at my house visiting with Cosmo.” He put his arm around me. Cosmo was a cat that’d he’d taken in after the owner had gone to jail when we’d arrested her for murder. See, he had a huge heart and I loved him for that. “Really, waiting until they meet you tonight.”
“I hope Mama acts her best.” The thought of Mama hosting Finn’s parents made me anxious.
I pointed to the empty seats next to us since Preacher Bing had taken his spot at the podium. I’d have to give my condolences to Woody’s family a little later.
After the funeral, I made a quick exit out of the funeral home and let Finn do the repass, the after-funeral home festivities.
Howllll, howwwwwl.
>
Duke was happy to see me when I’d gotten back into the old Jeep Wagoneer after the funeral. Rarely did I ever go anywhere without him. He was known as my deputy dog. He’d even been given an award for actually taking a bullet for me once.
“I know, Duke,” I confirmed how good the fresh air felt and smelt with the wind whipping in through the windows. Not to mention how good it felt to get the stink off of me from all the flowers at the funeral home.
There was no way to describe just how much I hated the smell of flowers at a funeral home, so much so that I’d changed my will to include no flowers at my own funeral. They reminded me of death. My Poppa’s funeral was filled with flowers and that was a horrible time for me. The memory was still unsettling.
Duke’s long bloodhound ears flopped in delight outside the window. His tail, that I was sure had a string to his heart, wagged in delight. There was nothing like when summer was right around the corner in Cottonwood.
“What a day for a funeral.” The sun was hanging bright in the early afternoon. The only real thing I had to do was meet my friends at my house so they could help get me all prettied up to meet Finn’s parents. That wasn’t until late this afternoon.
Before I could turn the Wagoneer north of town after I’d pulled left on Main Street, Mama was calling.
“Before you start lecturing me,” I answered the phone because I knew she was mad that I’d sent Finn to the repass after the funeral instead of me. “I have to get all gussied up for tonight when you meet Finn’s family.”
That would get her attention.
“You know I love when you actually dress in something pretty, but you’ve got to get over to Woody Moss’s house,” there was a bit of panic in her voice. “His house has been ransacked. Like someone has broken in and stolen stuff.”
