Merrily Murdered

by Sonia Parin

  Merrily Murdered

  A Dear Abby Cozy Mystery - Book 6

  Sonia Parin

  Merrily Murdered Copyright © 2019 Sonia Parin

  All Rights Reserved

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form or by any means, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  Created with Vellum

  About Merrily Murdered

  There’s no dashing through the snow for Abby Maguire who is experiencing her first Christmas in the small town she now calls home and having a hard time dealing with the sweltering heatwave, made worse by the fact there’s no ice at the local café - her home away from home.

  When she accompanies the local antique store owner, Bradford Mills, to collect the lights for the town’s annual Carols by Candlelight, she meets Harold Moorhead, a retired electrician. The only way she can convince him to fix the local café owner’s refrigerator is by listening to one of Harold’s long-winded stories. It’s a small price to pay. They now have ice but they also have a murder victim.

  With no murder weapon, no witnesses to the crime and no obvious motive, Abby and the local detective, Joshua Ryan, deal with one dead-end after another.

  It’s up to Abby to find clues where none appear to exist.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Epilogue

  Other books by Sonia Parin

  Chapter 1

  “Did you know, Putnam, more people are murdered at ninety-two degrees Fahrenheit than any other temperature? I read an article once – lower temperatures, people are easy-going. Over ninety-two, it’s too hot to move. But just ninety-two, people get irritable.”

  It Came From Outer Space (1953)

  December, the small town of Eden

  “This is my favorite time of the year,” Faith chirped. “The Christmas decorations are up and everyone is so cheerful. The place just lights up with joy and everyone just wants to wish you happiness. I’ve finally finished my Christmas cards and sent them off yesterday.” Holding the office door open, Faith added, “I think I have writer’s cramp.”

  “You’re sending out real cards?” Abby asked.

  “Of course. What else would I send? Are you about to tell me off for adding to my digital footprint and contributing to the destruction of forests?”

  “Nope. That would require too much thinking and I’m not up for it.” Abby turned and called out, “Are you coming, Doyle?”

  The stray she had picked up when she’d first arrived in the small town of Eden looked up and yawned.

  “Is that a yes or a no?” Abby asked.

  Doyle rolled over onto his back and pumped his little legs in the air.

  “I don’t think he’s coming,” Faith said.

  “You’re choosing the air-conditioner over me? So much for being my faithful companion.” Abby followed Faith out of the office. Two steps away from the Eden Rise Gazette and she could already feel a trickle of sweat sliding down her back. “The pub’s closer. Let’s go there for lunch,” she couldn’t help suggesting.

  “But Joyce is expecting us.”

  “Yes, well… Joyce should provide a back entrance to her café or some sort of tunnel from the newspaper to the café.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  December, Abby thought. For as long as she could remember, by this time of the year, she had already put away her summer clothes and had started layering up. Yet here she was, wearing shorts and flip flops.

  “Abby?” Faith prompted.

  “Never mind.”

  “No,” Faith chortled as she insisted. “There’s clearly something on your mind.”

  Yes, she thought, the heat. But she couldn’t very well complain. It would be… Abby searched for the appropriate word and came up with uncouth. As a newcomer to the town, indeed, to the country, she felt awkward complaining about something as trivial as the weather.

  “Do you want me to quote Shrek?” Faith asked.

  “Pardon?”

  Faith rolled her eyes. “Better out than in.”

  “Oh, right… Well, if you must know, it’s the sun. Going to Joyce’s means walking on the sunny side of town.”

  “Oh, yeah. Isn’t it glorious? I love summer. Joyce has the tables and chairs out. Oh, and umbrellas with icicles. She put them out yesterday. We can have lunch outside and watch everyone rushing around doing their Christmas shopping.”

  “Summer and Christmas.” Abby tapped the side of her head. “It still doesn’t compute.”

  Faith laughed. “Are you short-circuiting?”

  “Short-circuiting. Overheating. Melting. Call it what you will, every step I take feels like my last one.” To illustrate the point, she slouched, hung her tongue out and gasped for air.

  “Come on. Lunch will revive you. At least we get to wear shorts to the office. I bet you couldn’t do that back in Seattle.”

  “Are you about to suggest I look on the bright side?” Abby dug inside her handbag and retrieved her sunglasses. She slipped them on and then stretched her hand out, palm up. “If I hold my hand like this long enough, you could crack an egg over it and I can assure you, the egg would fry.”

  “Overreacting? Just think how lucky we are to have the best holiday of the year in summer.”

  Abby fanned herself. “It somehow isn’t the same. And I’m the first to admit it’s turned me into a grouch.”

  “I’ve noticed, but you’ve been very good. You haven’t complained until now. You should have said something.”

  “Why? It’s not as if you can actually do something about the heat.”

  “No, but we can focus on getting you into the spirit of Christmas. I get it, you’re used to Christmas being in winter. You could start by thinking of it as a novelty. Have you finished your Christmas shopping?”

  “You want to know what I got you.”

  Faith grinned. “I promise to act surprised.”

  “Sorry, my lips are sealed.”

  “Okay, what else can put you in the mood? Let’s see…” Faith hummed.

  “Are you about to break into a song?” Abby asked. “If so, choose wisely my friend because, honestly, if you sing Jingle Bells, I ain’t buying it.”

  “What do you mean?” Faith hummed the tune. “Oh… I see. Dashing through the snow in a one-horse open sleigh…”

  “Yep, that’s it.” She held up a warning finger. “No snow, no song.”

  “Heavens, you are grumpy.”

  “Fine. I recognize the error of my ways.” Abby pushed out a breath. “I won’t mention the heat again. Although, in my defense, my brain is sizzled so I might lapse.”

  Faith snorted. “You’ve only been outside for two minutes.”

  “And your point is?” Abby asked as they turned the corner. Yelping, she shrunk away.

  “Oh, come on. Anyone would think you’re a vampire about to be turned to dust. It’s just a little sun.”

  Abby pressed her back against the wall. “I�
�m sure I’ll go through a charred stage first. That sun stings.”

  Faith grabbed hold of her arm and tugged her along.

  “At least let me walk on the inside. There’s a sliver of shadow there.”

  Halfway to Joyce’s Café, they saw her coming out of the café carrying a tray with tall glasses.

  Abby rubbed her eyes. “I think I’m experiencing the first stage of sunstroke. Is that Joyce and is she dressed as an elf?”

  “Oh, yes. This is your first Christmas here. You’re in for a treat. On most days, Joyce loves dressing up as her favorite Christmas tree decoration. The rest of the time, she’s an elf.” Faith called out a greeting. “I see she’s making a concession for the heat. She’s dressed as a summer elf.”

  Abby wanted to question the idea of a summer elf but decided to take the road of least resistance and accept the concept without question.

  When she saw Joyce pulling out a couple of chairs, she blinked hard as if trying to clear her vision. “Is she nuts? I’m not sitting out here when there’s air-conditioning inside.”

  “Careful, she’ll hear you,” Faith warned. “We don’t want her feelings hurt.”

  Joyce gave them a cheery smile. “I’ve reserved the best table for my favorite customers.” She gestured to the chairs she’d drawn out.

  “Hear that?” Faith asked. “We’re her favorite customers.”

  Abby steered toward the café door. “I’ll see you inside.” She only got as far as the door. Peering through the window, she didn’t see a single vacant table in sight.

  “We’re having a busy lunch,” Joyce said. “The Alpine Trail Carolers are having their pre-Christmas get together to iron out the details for Carols by Candlelight.”

  Abby wanted to say they would come back later when the crowd had cleared out, but Faith had already sat down. Scooping in a breath, Abby dashed toward the table, literally ducking for cover under the candy-striped umbrella. “Where are the icicles I’ve heard about?”

  “They melted,” Joyce said, her tone matter-of-fact.

  Abby must have looked sufficiently puzzled for Joyce to explain, “They were stick on icicles. You know, made of plastic with an adhesive backing. Anyway, the tape held until midday, but then they started coming unglued.”

  Tucking her feet under the table, Abby leaned forward and made sure no part of her body came into contact with direct sunlight.

  “You’ll have to excuse Abby,” Faith said. “She’s feeling… a little hot and bothered.”

  “Oh, you should have some iced coffee or tea,” Joyce suggested. “We’ll just have to wait a bit for the delivery. My refrigerator is on the blink.”

  “Huh?”

  Joyce continued, “You can have a fizzy drink. Would you like that?”

  Brightening, Abby asked, “Will it be cold?”

  Joyce nibbled the edge of her lip. “I can’t promise anything, but I’m sure it will be better than hot coffee. Oh, I nearly forgot.” She dug inside the pocket of her elf suit and produced a little plastic bottle. “This table comes with complimentary sunblock.”

  Faith waited for Joyce to go back inside then she patted Abby’s hand and whispered, “I’ll keep an eye out on anyone vacating a table inside.”

  Glancing toward the café, Abby said, “There’s a line.” She picked up the menu and fanned herself. “It’s all in my mind.”

  “That’s the spirit. Think of a cool breeze swirling around us.” Faith turned her attention to her menu. “A veritable seasonal feast,” she read. Oh, we must try the Gobble Gobble Extravaganza. It’s a potato salad with turkey. Yes? No?”

  “Is there watermelon in that menu?” Abby asked using her own menu to fan herself.

  “Um. Nope. No watermelon. But there’s apricot tart. Yum.”

  Abby sat back and hummed a tune.

  “That sounds familiar.”

  “Over ninety-two, it’s too hot to move. But just ninety-two, people get irritable. It’s part of a line from a movie. The dialogue is actually woven through a 1980s song.”

  “Ah, I see. It’s about the heat. I thought you weren’t going to talk about it anymore.”

  “Strictly speaking, I’m humming, not talking.”

  “Just as well it’s only forty-one,” Faith said.

  “Pardon?”

  “Forty-one degrees.”

  Abby drew out her phone and scrolled through. “Celsius. I’m talking about Fahrenheit.” Abby yelped. “Forty-One. That’s 105.8F.”

  Faith grinned. “Of course, if you put it that way it sounds rather a lot.”

  “I’m surprised the road isn’t melting.”

  “Oh… yes. The train tracks have been known to buckle under this heat. Be grateful, we’re in the mountains. It’s hotter down in the city. It must be all those people huffing and puffing… Anyway, I just remembered the song you were humming. We’re safe because it’s well over 92F. It’s way too hot to move at 105F.”

  “105 point eight.”

  “Just wait and see. The rain will be here soon.”

  “You’ve been saying that since I arrived and the only water I see falling on my head is the water from the shower I take in the morning.” Abby brushed her hands over her face. “Sorry. I promise that’s the last I’ll talk about it.”

  “You need to find something to take your mind off the heat. We’ve had far too many slow news days. Maybe you could do a tall tales but true column. Everyone has a story to tell, the type that sound stranger than fiction. That should be fun. You could do a Christmas theme. Tall tales from Christmases past.”

  Abby wanted to ask where Faith got her energy to talk from but she knew that meant bringing up the subject she had promised to avoid…

  Faith looked down the street. “Oh, there’s Mitch.”

  Abby turned but didn’t see anyone walking toward them. “Where?”

  “Driving.”

  A moment later, the pub owner pulled up alongside them, rolled down the window and gave them a cheerful greeting. “One tall iced coffee for Abby and an icy vanilla shake for Faith.”

  Drive by service? Only in Eden, Abby thought. “How? Who? Why?” Abby managed even as Faith reached out to take the glasses.

  “Joyce just called to say she didn’t have any ice.” The pub owner grinned. “She called in a favor.”

  “That must be worth something for you to come out in this heat.” Abby leaned closer and felt the cool air from the car air-conditioner.

  “Too right,” Mitch said. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for Joyce to ask me for a favor.”

  Faith nodded. “That’s our Joyce. She did it in order to keep you happy, Abby Maguire. You can’t fault her. Joyce takes her customer service seriously.”

  “Best of all,” Mitch said, “it’s now official. Joyce Breeland owes me one.”

  When she saw Mitch put the car into gear, Abby reached out and put her hand against the window. Cool to the touch. “What’s the hurry. Hang around. Talk to us. Can I sit in the passenger seat?”

  “Sorry. I have to get back to the pub. The heat makes Markus grumpy and I don’t like leaving the customers alone with him for too long.”

  “Is there anything that doesn’t make your brother grumpy?” Abby asked.

  “I doubt it.” Mitch waved.

  As she watched Mitch drive off, she pressed the cool glass of iced coffee to her cheek and sighed. “There’s ice at the pub.”

  Joyce emerged from the café carrying a tray of sandwiches. “There’s no point taking your orders. I’m afraid this is all we could manage. The Alpine Trail Carolers have cleaned me out. Now, what’s new?”

  “As you might have gathered,” Faith said, “this is Abby’s first Australian summer.”

  “Oh. Heavens. You’re having a baptism by fire,” Joyce remarked. “If it makes you feel any better, we’ve had worse. A couple of years ago the mercury hit 46.4C for two straight days. That’s… Let me think…”

  “115.5F.”

  Joyce
nodded. “Historically, the highest temperature has been in the border town of Mildura. Back in 1906, they had 50.7C.”

  Abby looked it up on her phone. Taking a deep swallow, she said, “123.2F”

  Joyce grinned. “That sounds about right. It’s fabulous weather for grapes. Anyway, you don’t have to worry about that because Mildura’s far away.”

  “How far is that? As in, are they far enough away?”

  Laughing, Joyce said, “Far enough. Unless the wind blows this way…”

  Faith nodded. “Yes, and distance is no deterrent to dust storms. A few years back, there was one that looked like a tsunami in the sky. A bright orange dust tsunami. It came over from South Australia and hit Melbourne. Maybe we don’t really need to worry about that because we’re in the mountains. Although, there’s always the threat of bushfires.”

  Abby managed to hold herself upright when, in reality, she wanted to faint.

  “Anyway,” Faith continued, “I think she needs to take her mind off it. Any suggestions?”

  Joyce didn’t need to think about it. “Yes. Just give me a minute.” She drew out her phone and sent a text message. Looking down the street, she said, “Here he comes.”

  Abby asked, “Did you just send Bradford a message?”

  Joyce nodded. “He needs to collect the lights for our Carols by Candlelight night and he’s been grumbling about going to see Harold Moorhead. He’s a retired electrician and looks after the lights for us.”

  Faith looked awestruck. “Amazing. You call for him and he comes running.”

  “He’s doing no such thing,” Joyce said. “Bradford doesn’t run on command. He ambles.”

  “That’s more of a casual saunter,” Abby said.