Where Is Henderson? (Sam Darling mystery #5)

by Jerilyn Dufresne

  “Beautiful,” he said.

  “Yes, it is. It’s lovely.” Then I looked at him and saw he was looking at me. “Oh, you meant me.”

  “Of course I did.” We kissed again. Then he stood and offered me his hand.

  The song was a beautiful “golden oldie”—The Way You Look Tonight. One of my favorites.

  As we danced, it was as if there was no one else in the room. I was the happiest I’d been since the birth of my children. We held each other and knew we’d never let the other one go.

  Laughter interrupted us and I looked around in surprise. Apparently the music had stopped and we were still dancing. George released me from the clinch and we laughed with the others.

  Another song started and we began to go back to our table. Before we got there, a voice said, “May I have this dance, Sam?”

  I turned to see a handsome Michael O’Dear. “Of course.” I turned back to George and said, “See you in a minute.”

  This song was slow-ish. Some people were dancing apart and some were dancing together. Michael chose together.

  After I few moments of silence, I mustered some gumption and asked, “I’ve been wondering something…”

  “Yes?” he said, encouraging me.

  “This is kind of embarrassing, especially on my wedding day, but,” I took a deep breath, “why didn’t you pursue me?” I really wanted to ask why he only kissed me on the cheek or the head.

  “There’s something I probably should have told you before,” he said quietly, so no one else would hear.

  I pulled back a little to look at his face, and it was my turn to say, “Yes?”

  He pulled me close again, so he could whisper in my ear. “I’m gay.”

  “You’re what?” I practically yelled.

  He pulled me to him again. “No need to shout. I said, ‘I’m gay.’ Now please don’t yell.”

  “I’m so happy,” I said. “Now I know why you didn’t ‘really’ kiss me.” I was relieved that it wasn’t because of me.

  “Not shocked?” he asked.

  “Nope.”

  “Well,” he said, “some people might be shocked. Quincy is kind of small, so I’d appreciate it if you’d just tell George and no one else. I haven’t come out here yet.”

  “No problem.” Both George and I could keep secrets. Both of us did it as part of our job requirements, so I could turn on my filter when it came to Michael. However, I couldn’t wait to tell George.

  As the song ended, I said, “You are a great flirter though.”

  He whispered again, “You were fun to flirt with, even though you’re not my type.” We both laughed as he walked me back to my husband.

  Husband. What a great word. Even though I’d had a bad experience with my ex-husband, I knew that my marriage to George would be different. I couldn’t wait to go on my next adventure with him. Even if there were no more murders, each day would be an adventure, married to the man I loved.

  As I approached him, he looked up at me and said my favorite words.

  “Hi ya, Sam.”

  I smiled, took his hand, and said, “Now, where are we going to live?”

  Read on for a free sample—the first chapter of the next Sam Darling mystery—Who’s The Rogue?

  ONE

  “I must insist.” The loud, brittle voice was demanding something. It wasn’t clear if it belonged to woman, man, or child. The voice did sound as though it was used to getting its own way.

  “Of course, Wes. Of course. Let me sit down with the stage manager and we’ll see what we can do about your dressing room.” That voice I did recognize from seeing—and hearing—its owner on the local TV station. It belonged to Branson Barkley, the director of the play I was about to audition for.

  And he had called the other person Wes. Suddenly I knew who our high-pitched friend was.

  “That must be Wes Friday,” I practically giggled to my friend Cynthia. “He’s come all the way from New York City to star in our show.”

  “Oh, really. That’s who he is?” Cynthia could match me for sarcasm more easily than most. “You’ve only been talking about this guy for two months. Ever since the paper announced that he was coming to town, you’ve been nagging me to audition with you. So here I am.” She elbowed me good-naturedly.

  “But just think, Cindy, he starred in Boxers or Briefs and Give My Regards to Nowhere. I can’t believe he’s here in Quincy.” I listened some more. “His voice sounds different than when he’s on stage.”

  “And from the sound of it,” Cindy said, “Wes is quite the diva.”

  “Stop it.” I put a finger over her lips. “Don’t talk like that. He has a right to a certain level of deference and accommodation. He’s a real star.”

  Cindy knew when not to respond.

  After a moment I went on, “You know, it’s a wonder you put up with me, Cindy. I do get a little giddy about things sometimes. I think I’m living the teen years I never really got to enjoy.”

  She smiled, “Well, you certainly enjoyed high school. You, George, Vic, and I had a great time.” Then her smile faded. “It was only in college, when your parents died, that you had to grow up too fast.”

  “I never resented having to take care of my five siblings. But I wonder if that’s why I’m having so much fun now.” I smiled at Cindy. “Finally, I don’t have to take care of anyone else. My kids are all grown up. My husband and my dog are pretty self-sufficient, so it’s a chance to enjoy my own life.”

  Cynthia changed the subject, “I was a little scared to come with you.” At my quizzical look she went on. “You know—there’s murder wherever you go.”

  My expression must have given her the payoff she was after. She burst out in laughter. “Gotcha!”

  I couldn’t help but smile back, but then said, “That’s not really true. I know there seem to be more murders since I’ve been helping George with his work, but I bet if you did some research on it, you’d find out it’s not true.”

  My husband was Chief of Detectives at the Quincy Police Department and occasionally allowed me to accompany him on some of the murder investigations. Well, maybe not allowed, so much as couldn’t stop me.

  By then we had joined the queue waiting to audition for a part in The Murderous Rogue. I spoke quietly to Cindy while we looked at the others in line. “I do kind of wish this was a musical, but really I’d want to be in anything Wes Friday was in. I just want to hang around him.”

  “Omigod,” Cynthia exploded, none too quietly. “You’re a groupie, Sam. You’re a stalker. You have a crush on him!”

  “Shh! First, no; second, definitely not; and third, yes. Just a little crush; but don’t tell George. I’d never do anything to betray him. I just kind of like Wes, or maybe I should call him Mr. Friday.” I turned back to look at how far the line had moved. “It doesn’t matter. You know I’m happily—and recently—married.”

  “Have you decided what part you want?” Cindy asked.

  “I was thinking Giselle, but—”

  “His love interest?” Cindy started laughing again.

  “I don’t think that’s so funny.”

  After knowing me since high school, Cindy was immune to my glares, and was normally amused by them. This one didn’t faze her.

  “No, really,” I repeated, “I don’t think it’s so funny that I want to audition for the female lead, who just happens to be the male lead’s love interest.”

  “You’re 45, you just had your birthday a few days ago. He’s younger than you.”

  “Actually, I’ve been investigating this—” I said, and was interrupted by Cindy’s snort.

  “I’ve been investigating this,” I said again, with emphasis, “and I think he’s older than his official biography.” I pulled some folded papers out of my pocket. “See, here it says he was born in 1976—”

  “Which would make him—” Cynthia tried in vain to beat me to the punch on figuring out his age.

  “Thirty-nine,” I said triumphantly. “
However,” I continued, more humbly, “Wikipedia says he’s 43, and—”

  “And we know we can trust Wikipedia,” Cindy said, interrupting me again.

  “And, the birth records in Brimstone, Missouri state that—”

  “Brimstone, Missouri?” Cindy and I hardly ever allowed each other to finish a sentence, just like my family. “That’s funny. His publicity says he was born in Manhattan and lived on the Upper East Side as a kid.”

  “Yeah, Brimstone, Missouri. I told you I’ve been investigating this for a while, and the trail led to Brimstone, Missouri. The funny thing is that it’s a stone’s throw from Crackertown—you remember—the little town where George asked me to marry him.”

  Another snort, “And where your dog found a human femur and you helped George investigate a murder. There’s a pattern here, Sam.”

  “Shup,” was all I said.

  The young woman in front of me told the guy at the registration desk that she was auditioning for the role of Giselle and handed him her headshot.

  “I don’t have a headshot,” I whispered to Cindy.

  “It community theater, Sam,” she whispered back. “You don’t need a headshot.”

  It was my turn. I gave the man the audition form I’d completed.

  He looked at me. And looked again. “So this is your first show?”

  “Well, since high school, yes.”

  “And you’re auditioning for Giselle?”

  I stood as tall as my five foot two frame would let me. “Yes, I am.”

  Before he could say anything else, I added, “But I’ll take any role. Anything at all. I just really want to be in a show with Mr. Friday.”

  He motioned with his head. “Go into the green room and wait until you’re called.”

  “Yes, sir,” I said, and I practically curtsied.

  I heard Cindy chuckle again before she spoke to the guy at the desk. She was as pragmatic as I was idealistic. I poked my head through the green room door while I waited for her. It was full of people, mostly women, looking over scripts. Dozens of eyes looked at me, but then looked away immediately, sensing I wasn’t a threat to the part they wanted. I imagined most of them wanted Giselle, as I did, because it would involve a lot of one-on-one time with Wes.

  I felt Cindy touch my shoulder as she said, “Move.” So I did.

  We found two seats together, joining a young man on the couch. Cindy’s eyes made a circuit of the room, deliberately looking at each person individually and for what seemed like a long time.

  “What in the world are you doing?” I asked. “Why are you staring at everyone?”

  Cindy focused her eyes on me.

  “I’m wondering which one of the people in this room is going to be murdered.”

  Want more? Don’t miss all these other Sam Darling mysteries, available now.

  WHO KILLED MY BOSS?

  (Sam Darling mystery #1)

  Moments after hiring Samantha Darling as a therapist, Dr. Burns is murdered. Stunned by his sudden death and desperate to keep the job she just got, Sam vows to find the killer.

  She has two things going for her. The first is that her brother Rob is a cop, and she figures the crime-solving thing has to be genetic. The second is that Sam is a little bit psychic—so finding the culprit should be a snap for her. If only she could tell the difference between her psychic vibes and indigestion….

  With the help of her landlord and her dog, Sam sets out to solve the murder. Along the way, she spends time with the hot new guy in town and tries not to spend time with the old high school boyfriend who stood her up on prom night.

  Using her vibes, her wit, and her charm, Sam solves the mystery, but not before going in the completely wrong direction more than once.

  ANY MEAT IN THAT SOUP?

  (Sam Darling mystery #2)

  When a man falls down at Samantha Darling’s feet, she thinks it’s pretty funny. But she stops joking when he turns up dead.

  Social worker and would-be crime-solver Sam is busy trying to unravel the mystery as the death toll keeps mounting. She’s thrilled to be hired by the handsome local private eye to work in the ER and investigate, but her elation quickly evaporates when she finds out that her sister Jen is being investigated for the murders.

  A trio of other suspects, a poisoning scare for her best bud and canine companion Clancy, and the back-and-forth pull of Sam’s attraction to the dreamy Michael and the loyal George keep her unbalanced as she tries to juggle social work, secret sleuthing, and a romantic triangle.

  As usual, Sam takes her snooping to extraordinary heights. She can’t seem to stop putting her nose where it doesn’t belong. And this time…she may have gone too far.

  CAN YOU PICTURE THIS?

  (Sam Darling mystery #3)

  If Sam had known when she knocked over the guy’s bicycle that it would put her knee-deep in murder again, she might have thought twice.

  Richie Klingman, the only representative of the “paparazzi” in Quincy, chased Sam down with his camera in an attempt to grab a quick shot of the local celebrity sleuth. But when the flashbulb went off in her face, she went off on him—or on his bike—and down it went, Richie and all.

  Turns out that one of the photos Richie took caught the precise moment of a murder on film. The next thing Sam knows, Richie himself has been stabbed and is in the hospital with a serious chest wound.

  Sam is stumped. There are no suspects. Instead there are round-the-clock police protecting Sam and her kids, who are home from college for the summer. And there is round-the-clock involvement with her old high school beau George, whom Sam has finally forgiven for standing her up on prom night.

  When at last a suspect emerges, Sam is confronted with her own mortality yet again. In this third book of the Sam Darling mystery series, you’ll be wondering whodunit right up until the murderer is fully exposed and the picture finally emerges.

  WILL YOU MARRY ME?

  (Sam Darling mystery #4)

  There’s a Chicken Convention in town as Sam Darling takes her curiosity on the road and tries to solve another murder—and this time the feathers are flying!

  Savvy sleuth Sam and her canine sidekick Clancy are at it again in the fourth book in Jerilyn Dufresne’s bestselling cozy mystery series. Sam and her sweetheart George are headed off for a well-earned vacation. That is, until Clancy digs up a mysterious human bone. With help from the Bobs—Bob Bob, Jim Bob, Joe Bob, Mike Bob, Billy Bob, and Mary Bob—Sam jumps in as always to help figure out who done it.

  How far will Sam go to solve the case? Far enough to squeeze into a fluffy chicken suit and infiltrate the world of those who love to cluck. Once again, intrepid Sam goes from the frying pan into the fire…but will she get burned?

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  Coming soon is the sixth Sam Darling cozy mystery, Who’s The Rogue?

  Acknowledgments

  As usual I want to acknowledge all the generous people who have made this book a reality:

  My publisher and friend, Patrice Fitzgerald of eFitzgerald Publishing, LLC.

  Cover artist Keri Knutson, who took an ordinary photograph and turned it into a great cover

  Jason Anderson of Polgarus Studio, who provided prompt and professional formatting services.

  Nibby Priest, my advisor for all things Henderson

  Kathy and Hugh Roderick for allowing me to use their lovely home on the cover.

  Beta readers: Jan Smith, Donna Welsh, Beth Lane, and Nikki Shields

  Sue Osier, for inspiring me with her story of wearing Spanx for the first time

  Panera Bread Company in Quincy for giving me space in which to write

  Lou Ann Clark, for giving a great workshop in Henderson that was the catalyst for this story. Lou, you are nothing like Louise Shannon. Your workshop was valuable and you are not a huckster. For the record.

  To the people of He
nderson: I loved your town and plan to visit frequently. As you can see, I took great liberties at poking fun at you. I hope you realize it was done with respect and love.

  To the people of Quincy: I promise the next book is set totally in Quincy, just as you demanded, er, I mean requested.

  About the Author

  Bestselling author Jerilyn Bozarth Dufresne is the oldest in a family of nine children, which is where she got the inspiration for the Darling Family—although her sibs fight a lot more and have cornered the market on sarcasm. She returned to her hometown of Quincy, Illinois after having lived a nomadic life in her middle years.

  Jerilyn currently works as an outpatient therapist at a local mental health clinic and teaches at Quincy University. She and her dog Gus live with, and are tolerated by, two cats.

  COPYRIGHT NOTICE

  © 2015 Jerilyn Dufresne, all rights reserved, worldwide. No part of this ebook may be reproduced, uploaded to the Internet, or copied without author permission.

  The author appreciates your support in respecting her rights to this work. There is much joy in writing, but artists deserve to be paid.

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