You Can Lead a Horse to Water (Proverbial Crime Mysteries Book 3)

by Dane McCaslin

  "Keep your shirt on, Merry," I said as I headed over to the trash can. I brushed my hands over it and returned to the table, a smug expression on my face. "As we speak, the best pumpkins and red delicious apples are being boxed up, ready to be delivered the day before they're needed."

  "At least I have one friend I can count on." Merry still sat in her chair, a petulant look on her face, "What am I going to do about Viv? She's got one of the most important clues at her booth."

  "Well, you can always give it to someone else and let her be the place where everyone has to start."

  "That's just it, Caro," she replied. "She doesn't want to be snowed under at her booth with folks there for the Pumpkin Caper and not because of what she's offering." Merry shook her head. "Call me crazy, but I think she really wanted to be the corpse. Can you believe that?"

  "She's welcome to it," I said with hands raised, completely meaning every word. "In fact, I'll go over to swap places with her right now." Besides, I'd already dropped a hint in her direction.

  "I thought you were okay with it." Merry's petulant expression morphed into a full-blown pout.

  "I was. I am," I assured her. "But keeping the peace is a far better thing, don't you think?" I gave her my best self-sacrificial smile. And I wouldn't have to wear those god-awful heels.

  "You're probably right, Caro." Merry closed her eyes briefly and sighed.

  "Of course I am," I said briskly. "And there's no time like the present to pass the torch, right?"

  "I suppose." She glanced briefly at her smartphone. "I've got about forty minutes before Sarah's due to arrive. She's staying at that new bed and breakfast over on Forest in the old DeWalt house. Have you ever seen it?"

  I hadn't.

  "I've heard, though," I volunteered, "that the garden is absolutely divine." I didn't have a green thumb myself, so anyone who could coax a plant or two out of the ground had my admiration.

  Merry was quiet for a moment, something clearly bothering her. "Caro, do you think I play favorites?" If she hadn't looked so pitiful I might have laughed.

  "Who's been filling your head with such nonsense, Merry?" I reached over and grabbed her hand, giving it a squeeze. "You know good and well you don't."

  "I know," she said as she squeezed back. "I guess I'm just thinking about what Viv said."

  "If she thinks you played favorites with me because I was going to be sprawled out on the ground, she's crazy." I stood up, pulling Merry to her feet. "Come on, silly girl. Let's go break the good news to Miss Viv that she can be your corpse."

  To our surprise, someone had already let her know. We found Viv lying on the floor in the Cinderella section of her store, lifeless as one of her mannequins.

  CHAPTER THREE

  "Ladies." Officer Scott, one of Seneca Meadows' finest and a recent addition to Merry's private life, stood staring down at us, his large hands resting on his hips. "Imagine my surprise when I got the call about another body in town."

  "Well, imagine my surprise when I practically tripped over her," retorted Merry, red splotches of color replacing the pallor of just moments ago. "Just ask us whatever it is you need to ask so we can get out of here."

  "Let's not be so hasty," said Scotty, wagging a finger at us. "We'll want to ask you how you knew to come and find her, things like that." He shot a look at me that did not bode well. "Although to tell you the truth, Mrs. B, I'm not too surprised to see you here."

  He had a point. He'd been at every crime scene that I'd been unlucky enough to be at as well in the past few years. Between him and my husband, I'm sure they thought that I lived for discovering corpses.

  "Just doing my duty to make sure that you have job security," I said. "And Merry isn't feeling very well. Can we give our statements later?" And indeed she did look pale, and I noticed that her eyes had begun to redden, a sure sign of tears. I gave her shoulders a squeeze and swallowed the sudden lump that had appeared in my throat.

  "I suppose so." Officer Scott scratched the back of his neck, looking around the now-active scene. Several people dressed in paper suits were busily snapping pictures of both the scene and the body. Another investigator talked on the phone, calling out directions to the photographers. The entire thing had the feel of a television episode, and I fully expected Viv to sit up, rubbing her elbows, when the director called "cut."

  "Give me a sec while I ask my lieutenant."

  We watched as he headed over to where a pair of officers stood talking, heads close together as they looked at an iPad.

  "It's crazy the amount of technology at crime scenes anymore." Merry shook her head as she watched Scotty talking, pointing with his thumb back in our direction. "Before long, we won't even need real cops to come out. We can just record it on our cell phones or tablets and turn the whole thing in to the local police station." She swiped at her eyes with the back of one hand.

  "Um," I said, only half listening. There was something familiar about one of the officers looking at us. I suddenly groaned, causing Merry to look at me with alarm on her face.

  "Caro, what is it?" She looked at me from head to toe, trying to assess why I had started making sounds like a camel eating cactus.

  "Look. Over there." I pointed with my chin, and she turned to follow the direction I'd indicated. "Isn't that the officer from New York, the one who was here with the last murder in town?"

  "Oh, my God." Merry gave one of the better eye rolls that I'd ever seen. "It's Detective I'm-God's-Gift-to-the-World Leonides."

  "Why's he here?" I snuck another look at the elegant figure, noting that he still looked like he belonged in the fashion world, not a police station. "Please don't tell me there's a big-city connection again."

  Merry shrugged. "I can't imagine what it might be, unless Viv has one."

  "Maybe it's just the whole secondhand store thing again." The last murder had revolved around this very building; déjà vu had a very bad habit of making its presence known in Seneca Meadows.

  "Maybe." Merry drew in a breath. "Great. Here comes the big shot. Better get your hip boots on."

  "Hip boots?" Sometimes Merry's southern jargon and my British mind didn't quite make the connection.

  "You know, for wading around in deep cow doo. And he's a good one for slinging that stuff around."

  "On and ready."

  We watched as Detective Leonides headed over to us, an almost visible air of authority wafting behind him like a cape. I stuck my hand out in welcome.

  "Detective." His hand and his expression were both cool. I was tempted to give it a squeeze to see if he was still breathing.

  "Mrs. Browning." He withdrew his hand from my grasp. I waited to see if he was going to wipe it against his immaculate slacks. Judging from the slight twitch of his lips, I decided he was tempted. He turned to face Merry, one eyebrow lifted. "And Ms. Holmes."

  "Detective." Merry nodded at Leonides, her face a neutral blank that made me wonder if there was something between the two of them that I wasn't aware of.

  An awkward silence fell among the three of us. I was curious what it was he wanted; I couldn't imagine that this was simply a casual visit.

  Finally he sighed, acting as though the mere exercise of speaking was taxing, and said, "I'm sure that we'll be seeing a lot of one another, ladies."

  I slid a glance in Merry's direction and saw her mouth tighten into a thin line.

  "I've joined the Seneca Meadows Police Department."

  "Oh." That was all I could think to say. Not very welcoming, but the best I could do without warning. I don't have a good poker face. Merry, thank goodness, was a bit better at these types of things.

  "That's good news, Detective Leonides."

  I could have sworn she really meant it.

  "Will you be the one we need to give our statements to when we're able to come to the station?" she asked.

  Smooth, I thought with admiration. She'd managed to elevate the man's ego and let him know that we'd be available on our own time. I almost laughed
aloud when I saw the struggle on his face as he tried to decide which part of her comment to respond to.

  "I see the good detective's given you the news." Scotty sailed up to our little group. "We're so lucky to have one of New York's finest joining our little department."

  Judging by the slight tic at one corner of his mouth, New York's finest had caught the same edge of sarcasm that I'd noticed. Was there already a rivalry in the SMPD?

  "Well, Merry, we should get you home." I turned to Leonides. "She's the one who found the body, and she's still a little shocky."

  "Shocked," corrected Leonides.

  "That as well. We'll check in at the station later today if she's up to it. Merry?" I all but grabbed her arm and began dragging her out of the store and toward the car.

  "I'll stop by later," called out Scotty. "Get some rest, Merry."

  Merry snapped the seat belt shut and started the Mini's engine. "We might have just given our statements and gotten that out of the way." She gunned the gas a little too much and the tires squealed in annoyance. So did I. She'd either recovered incredibly fast or there was another reason—or person—for remaining at the scene, and I didn't think it was Officer Scott.

  "What do you want to do about Sarah?" I asked tentatively. Finding a body tended to transform even the most sanguine person to one whose emotional equilibrium was off-balance, and I was feeling decidedly out of it. At the risk of sounding like a cold fish, I was reacting the only way I knew how, and that was to forge ahead with our plans.

  "Oh, my God!" Merry smacked her forehead with the heel of her hand. "I completely forgot about her." She glanced down at the digital clock on the instrument panel, biting her lip. "If I cut through the park, we can just make it."

  "Cutting through the park" was the local euphemism for speeding. To Merry's amusement, I'd actually tried to find the shortcut soon after Greg and I moved to Seneca Meadows, confused when I realized that there was a low iron railing around the entire perimeter of the only park in the town's boundaries.

  "The park it is," I said, giving my seat belt an exaggerated tug.

  The old DeWalt mansion, a stately Victorian leftover, was located in the heart of the town's most exclusive area. Greg and I had tried in vain to find a house there but to no avail. These were homes that were passed down in families and sold only when no one else was left to inhabit them. In other words, nothing doing. We'd settled for a newer home in the only HOA in Seneca Meadows.

  "I wonder if that's her car." Merry pulled next to the curb outside the bed and breakfast and motioned toward a sleek Jaguar that was proudly parked in the curving driveway.

  "I doubt it," I said with a laugh. "Unless she's the newest James Patterson or an heiress, I don't know too many writers that can afford that sort of car." Including me, I thought wryly. I'd driven the same wagon-type sedan for eons, bringing it with us from England when we moved to the States. "She's most likely rented it for the weekend."

  Merry shrugged. "Whatever. As long as she keeps her word and participates in the festival, I don't care if she drives a Pinto."

  "Or a Gremlin." I glanced over at Merry. "Remember those monstrosities?"

  She grimaced. "Yes. I had one. Drove the thing until I finally killed it by getting it stuck on the local train track. Accidentally on purpose, of course," she added with a sly wink.

  "Brilliant," I said, looking at her with admiration. "When was that? When you were a teen?"

  "Nope." She shook her head, causing her ponytail to sway. "A couple years ago. I figured the insurance money would come in handy for the bookstore."

  I shook my head. "Does Scotty know about that?"

  "Not likely," Merry said as she opened her door. "He'd actually need to answer his phone or drop by once in a while in order to know what's up in my life. Not to mention that I'm just pullin' your leg, Caro."

  "Trouble in paradise?" I asked as I joined her on the sidewalk, completely ignoring the fact that I'd just exposed my tendency to believe everything that Merry told me.

  "Yep," she said with an emphatic nod. "And if he knows what's good for him, he'll pay attention to the new game in town."

  New game in town? Unless I was born yesterday, which I most assuredly was not, she was speaking about Detective Clotheshorse himself, the great Leonides. I groaned inwardly. Merry plus Leonides meant nothing but trouble, in my humble opinion, not to mention that I had no desire to see Scotty get hurt.

  "After you," I said, giving Merry a slight bow. She gave me a lifted eyebrow. The woman on the porch gave both of us an amused smile.

  "You must be Merry," she called out. "I'm Sarah Lawson."

  We hurried up the flower-lined path and to the porch, Merry in the lead with one hand held out in greeting.

  "Guilty as charged," she said. "Sarah, this is my friend Caro Layton-Browning."

  "Oh, Caro and I go back quite a ways," said Sarah with a friendly handshake for the two of us. "I had no idea this was your stomping grounds." Up close, I could see that her smile didn't quite reach her eyes. "It's a nice little town."

  "Greg and I moved here almost three years ago now, and we love it." I said easily, wondering how in the world being on one panel together at an obscure writers' conference counted as "going way back." "It's nice to have you in town, Sarah."

  "Yes," she said, clasping her hands together in a rather theatrical gesture. "I can't tell you how excited I am to launch my newest book right here in Fall River."

  "Seneca Meadows," I said.

  "What?" Sarah looked at me with a quizzical expression, hands still held at her chest.

  "Seneca Meadows, not Fall River. Different part of the state entirely. Besides," I added with a smile, "we don't brain each other with an axe here."

  "A la Lizzie Borden." Merry's voice was light, her tone amused, but I could sense an underlying current of something stirring around, just as I had between her and Leonides. I said a silent prayer that I was not developing a psychic ability; that would be the last thing I'd want.

  Or would it? Maybe having the inside scoop on everyone's intentions wouldn't be so bad at that. I gave Sarah my biggest smile.

  "Let's just hope your book launch goes off without any fireworks." I turned back to Merry. "Were we going to stay a while? If so, I could kill for one of their famous mint teas."

  "Not literally, I hope." Sarah gave a chuckle. "I wouldn't want anyone thinking that's all we mystery writers do."

  "Speaking of killing," I began, and Merry gave me a quick jab in the side. I turned and frowned at her. "What? I was only going to tell her that I'd be playing the corpse, since she's really dead now."

  "Caro." Merry shook her head at me, a hint of exasperation in her voice. "You really know how to put your foot in it."

  "Am I missing something?" Sarah looked from me to Merry and back. "It sounds like you've already got the show on the road, Merry."

  "Let's talk about it inside," said my usually buoyant friend, giving a deep sigh. "I could use something to drink myself right now." She gave me look that would have been right at home on a teacher's face. "And I'm not talking tea either."

  In a few minutes we were settled in the common area, Sarah and Merry with matching glasses of wine and me with the mint tea. It had been two rooms that had once acted as the formal living room and a smaller antechamber for more intimate gatherings. Their shared wall had been removed, expanding the space and making the most of a bank of tall windows that extended through the entire room. The decor was right out of the early twentieth century: ivory brocade-covered sofas with mauve and lilac accent pillows, a large Persian rug that looked authentic, a gleaming grand piano standing in one corner. The tall bookshelves and inviting chairs covered in a deep maroon only added to an atmosphere that was, I thought, accessibly formal.

  "Not too shabby, right?" Sarah looked around the room as though it was her own, an air of pride in her voice. "I try to visit at least twice a year."

  "Really? And to think we've never been able to book you
for a signing until now." Merry's voice was light, but again I caught a whiff of something other than friendliness. "We just got lucky, didn't we?"

  "You certainly did," agreed Sarah with a smile, seemingly oblivious to what had to be sarcasm on Merry's part. What was with these two? "And I understand that one of my readers will get ever luckier this weekend."

  "Merry's planned one of the best festivals Seneca Meadows has ever seen," I said with a fond smile for my friend. "Using your new book as part of the celebration was absolutely brilliant, in my opinion."

  "In mine as well," said Sarah. She took a sip of her merlot, a complacent expression on her face, her eyes fixed on the windows.

  I waited to see if she meant to be funny. When she didn't laugh but continued drinking her wine, I shot Merry a sideways glance. The atmosphere, as my husband, Greg, would say, was getting to be quite thick.

  "So," I began in a cheery tone, "are you working on another book, Sarah?" Writers loved to talk about their writing, or at least I did, so I figured that this was a safe topic.

  "I'm sorry, I really need to go." Sarah stood up, placing her now-empty wine glass on a nearby side table. "Merry, I'll call you later, or you can text me."

  Without another word, she spun around and walked out of the room.

  "Well." Merry turned to look at me, one eyebrow arched. "Any idea what that was all about? Or am I the only one that noticed?"

  "It's not just you," I assured her. "There's definitely something going on with her. I don't know her as well as she intimated, though." I shook my head. "We only worked together one time, and that was more than a year ago. I'm actually surprised that she remembered me, to tell you the truth."

  "Oh, come on, Caro," protested Merry. "You sell as well as she does, if not better. She absolutely should know who you are."

  "You're making me blush," I said, leaning over to give Merry a quick hug.

  "I only speak the truth." She returned the squeeze. "My question is now what am I going to do about Sarah? If she's still riding on this high horse when Lisa Caldwell gets here…" Her voice trailed off and she gave a shrug.