by Carrie Marsh
Dawn stopped her project and looked up. “I also heard that Ray was having conversations with Summer all the way up until the trial, when he pleaded guilty. He’d just sit in his cell and stare straight ahead as if he was listening, and sometimes he’d talk back, and sometimes he’d just cry.” She pushed out her ample breasts with pride that she had this little bit of juicy gossip.
Mary, on the other hand, knew the truth. Yes, Ray had seen Summer, or what he thought was Summer, but it didn’t drive him crazy. He didn’t sit in his cell calling for her or talking to her when in reality no one else was there. The only one he called for was his wife. Nevertheless, that wasn’t nearly so glamorous as pining away for a forbidden love.
Andrew had told Mary all about it. Moreover, once Raymond confessed to everything, he had actually become a different person.
“You know that old story, Mom, about the man who commits murder and buries the body underneath the floor?” Andrew asked over supper after Ray was in custody.
“The Tell Tale Heart by Edgar Allen Poe. Yes, I know that one.” Mary answered.
“I think that is what happened to Raymond Hulka. Once he admitted to everything, once he took responsibility, he seemed to calm down. I’m not saying he suddenly became a good guy and should be let out. I’m just saying that I don’t think he’ll hurt anyone else or himself.”
“I hope you are right, Andrew.” Mary patted her son’s hand.
The thing many of the cop shows don’t portray on television is that these are flesh and blood men wearing the blue uniforms. Mary knew that her son wouldn’t mind a world where police were not needed. However, they were and he was there to serve and protect. That didn’t mean he didn’t want criminals to “get better” though. He hated repeat offenders.
“I think the fifteen years is fair.” Andrew continued. “It might not be the right thing to say, but it’s how I feel. When he gets out, no one will ever hear from him again.”
“Well, a man who acts like that deserves a lot worse.” Linda scoffed. “But at least for now we know Morhollow is safe from people like him. The chances of anything like that happening again are slim and none, and slim left town.”
“Do you agree with that, Mary?” Grace asked with a twinkle in her eye. “You think Morhollow has seen the last of the circus sideshow?”
“I wouldn’t bet on it.” Mary smirked as Alabaster purred.
THANK YOU
for reading my book and
I hope you have enjoyed this story as well.
“BOOK 1 - DINING WITH THE DEAD” is a standalone story.
If you have enjoyed reading “Book 4 - The Dead Among Us” so far, I believe you will be interested in checking out “Book 1 - Dining With The Dead”. This book is where is all began.
This book will be focusing on a young and pretty receptionist of a small hotel, Ms Laura Howcraft on her mysterious adventures in Millerfield Village.
How long does it take to get accused of murder…?
Leaving behind a bad relationship is not the only changes Laura Howcroft has made in the last three months. A newcomer to the quiet life of Millerfield Village and receptionist for The Woodend Cottage Hotel, Laura can’t help but notice the suspicious, untrusting glances towards her. Fortunately, the villagers don't know just how unusual she is. Charmed with the unique ability to talk to animals, including her cat Monty, Laura is simply content to keep her head down.
But when a guest of the hotel, a businessman visiting from London, is found dead, Laura realizes just how serious the villagers are about protecting their own from outsiders.
With the finger of suspicion pointing at her, Laura, the gentle Doctor Howard Lucas and Monty must brave dangerous threats, ghostly sightings and stale apple pie, to delve into the dark side of life in the quiet little village. But the real mystery is this…
Can Laura clear her name of a murder she didn’t commit?
Or will the unfriendly inhabitants of this close-knit community be the least of her worries?
With plot twists, turns coupled with interesting characters that you will sure love.
I have enclosed a preview of “Dining With The Dead”.
Check it out below…
It is currently at $0.99.
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CHAPTER ONE
INTRODUCTIONS
Millerfield is a small village.
That means, for those of you who don't know, that there is only one street in total, the population is divided equally between the extremely old and the very young, and, most importantly: everyone knows everyone else.
Laura Howcroft, standing behind her desk at the Woodend Cottage Hotel, realized, not for the first time that day, just how small Millerfield was. The thing that made her realize it was that nobody knew her. And that, surprisingly, hurt.
“Eh...who's the new girl?” she heard a farmer say as he headed past her.
“Dunno...she's not from here – never clapped eyes on her afore.”
“Oh,” the farmer said, eying her with mistrust, “a foreigner.”
Laura rolled her eyes. It was, she thought, rather rude. To say nothing of unreasonable.
I'm from Cambridge, she wanted to shout. That's a hundred miles away! She suddenly realized that, for people whose entire world was slightly over two square miles, a hundred miles away was another galaxy. For them, she was practically from outer space.
She leaned on her desk and sighed. Not for the first time, Laura wondered why she had moved here from her own larger village of Cambridge.
“It seemed like a good idea...” she said under her breath.
Just then, a voice interrupted her thoughts.
“Miss?”
Laura looked up, and carried on looking. She was staring into the darkest eyes she had ever seen. Mesmerizing and almost-black, framed by long, dark lashes, the eyes were warm and intelligent.
“Good afternoon,” she replied, swallowing.
Something in those eyes tugged at her heart, making her feel things that sensible, practical Laura Howcroft did not feel. Ever. The love of her life was Monty – her cat – and that was just fine.
“I think I have a reservation,” the man said, genially. His voice was warm as melted butter on a crumpet, and Laura felt something peculiar happen in her heart.
“Uh...” she went blank. What was the Maître d' of a restaurant supposed to ask, again? “...name?” she remembered, relieved.
“That would help,” the man agreed.
Laura bridled. That was, she thought, a bit cheeky. Even though he was her age, or maybe even older, she felt a need to reprimand him.
“No need to be rude, you know,” she said crisply, not looking up from the list of the day's reservations.
“Apologies,” the man replied frostily.
“Fine,” she mumbled, secretly pleased that she had made him feel uncomfortable. “Since it would help so much, could I have your name?” she smiled sarcastically.
“Well, most people in the village know me,” the man said distantly. “I'm Doctor Lucas.”
Oh, heck...Laura thought, shutting her eyes. Rule number one of village life: never, ever offend the only doctor.
“Fine,” she said, quietly. She ran her finger down the list of surnames. “Dr. Howard Lucas...we put you at table Three. Enjoy,”
“I shall do my best,” the doctor said archly, and walked off without a backward glance.
As soon as he had gone, Laura collapsed on the desk. Why, she thought, sadly, am I doing this? I should have stayed at home, and joined Emma when she moved into a caravan...
Laura ran a hand through her blonde hair, and, turning, caught sight of herself, reflected in the mirror behind the counter. Of middle height, with delicate features and blue eyes, Laura had never quite known how to classify herself. A friend had told her she looked like Sharon Stone and Laura, not being one for movies, had had to look her up on the Internet. Laura grinned at herself.
I'm sure Sharon Stone never h
ad under-eye rings like that, she thought critically. Fine bloody film star I'd be.
“Laura!”
A bright, genial voice broke through her miserable reverie. Laura blinked. Inwardly, she quailed. It was not that Janet was unwelcome, exactly...she was just so loud!
“Janet,” Laura said, giving the red-haired receptionist a watery smile. Miss Janet Lister worked at the front desk of the hotel, a position she had held for a few years before Laura arrived. Janet had also been an “incomer”, and had sympathy for Laura.
“What's the matter?” Janet asked convivially. “Not enjoying your first day at work...?”
“Not at all...” Laura said indistinctly, “...what makes you think that?”
“Come on, Laura!” Janet boomed, “I've seen more cheerful murder victims!”
Laura sighed. “I am enjoying it, Janet,” she began, “...it's just that everyone seems so – so unfriendly! So suspicious of me. And I can't seem to do anything about it.”
Janet laughed.
“That's not your fault! It's just the way it is around here. You know, small village, tight-knit community? They'll get used to you – you'll see.”
Laura swallowed. She was not too sure how reassuring that was. The day these people got used to me is the day I move out she thought.
How could she be absorbed in this small, mean-spirited community? She shuddered at the thought.
“Never mind,” Janet said carefully. “I brought you a scone. That'll make it better, you'll see.”
She produced the scone, arranged on a little plate, and left it at Laura's side. “Nothing ever happens here, and no-one ever changes,” Janet added, “...but you can be sure a scone will make it all all right.”
Patting Laura on the shoulder, she turned and left, headed back to the hotel reception desk.
Watching her go, Laura felt a lump in her throat that had nothing to do with the scone-induced hunger, and more to do with feeling truly moved.
“Perhaps this village, and its inhabitants, aren't too bad after all,” she muttered under her breath. Looking around the restaurant to make sure she wasn't needed, she went into the office and bit into her scone. Creamy and covered in strawberry jam, it was warm and crumbly, fresh out of the oven.
As her eye fell on Dr. Lucas, sitting by the window with a sandwich and the local paper, she felt somewhat less certain that a scone could improve everything.
“I shall forget about him,” she told herself primly. “For the moment, I shall allow that scones, while not making things better, can make them more bearable.” Even, she thought, in villages where nothing ever happens.
CHAPTER TWO
A COMFORTABLE EVENING
The late evening sun slanted through the window of Laura's rented cottage. She sat at the kitchen table, looking idly through the newspaper while she drank her last coffee of the day. She sighed, enjoying the immense peacefulness of the countryside.
She heard something solid thump in the sitting-room. She grinned.
“Monty!” Her whole face lit up as the large, black cat walked in through the kitchen door. “How are you?”
Not too bad actually, the cat's thought-voice replied. The field up there is full of mice, did you notice?
“No,” Laura grinned. “Is that good?”
Depends, Monty grumbled, as he sat himself firmly down on a fallen sheet of newspaper, and began to clean his paw, on what you mean by good.
The answer was characteristically laconic, and Laura smiled. Monty had been part of the reason why she had taken this job...her other offer had been in York, and she knew pet-friendly apartments were hard to find in a big city.
“What's good about a field of mice?” she asked.
Well, Monty replied, looking self-satisfied, it means that the neighborhood cats all go there. I'm meeting people around here.
“Oh, Monty,” Laura chuckled. “I'm glad you're settling in. I would that I was.”
You will, he said cryptically.
Laura sighed. “I hope so.”
Trust me.
Laura smiled a little sadly, and finished her coffee. She wished she could make some friends, but no-one she had met so far had really captured her imagination. Except one person, that was.
He isn't so bad, that Dr. Lucas, she thought. Not when you actually meet him... She grinned at herself. Why was it that she could not stop thinking about him?
The conversation she had with Dr. Lucas the day before kept playing around her head: She's very funny, doctor. Is she, indeed?
She recalled the way Dr. Lucas had looked at her, and the warmth in his eyes when he smiled.
I rather like him, she said to herself. She blushed.
“Laura Howcroft, you are acting like a teenager,” she told herself, sternly. She laughed. Perhaps she was, but she didn't really want to stop.
She wished she could talk to Monty about it, but Monty was always non-committal when it came to the subject of relationships. He liked some of her friends, disliked others and left the house altogether for some.
Just then, the doorbell rang.
“Janet?” she asked, surprised.
“Hi!” Janet grinned. “I went up to the Hogarth farm, and bought some strawberries. I thought you might like to share?”
Laura smiled. They did look delicious.
“Thank you, Janet.”
Janet stayed where she was on the doorstep, clearly bursting to tell Laura her news.
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THANK YOU
for reading my book and
I hope you have enjoyed this story as well.
“COOKING WITH THE DEAD” is a standalone story.
If you have enjoyed reading “Book 4 - The Dead Among Us” so far, I believe you will be interested in checking out “Book 2 - Cooking With The Dead”.
This book will be focusing on a young and pretty receptionist of a small hotel, Ms Laura Howcraft on her mysterious adventures in Millerfield Village.
What do you do when there’s trouble brewing in the kitchen…?
Already pressed to solve one murder investigation to clear her name, Laura Howcroft is glad that her life has settled into a pleasant and predictable routine. Enjoying her new-found acceptance to the quaint village of Millerfield, Laura is grateful for the shared life with new friends. Even her tentative relationship with Dr. Lucas seems to be progressing nicely, a fact that makes Laura content to have things simply carry on.
But when she employs a contracted pastry-chef to mind the kitchens of The Woodend Cottage Hotel, Laura could never have guessed that it might cost him his life. With the newly-hired chief found murdered by his own pastry cloth and police suspecting that his death was directly linked to his acceptance of the position, Laura feels honor-bound to investigate the cause of his death. Wrapped up into a world of challenge rivalries, flaky franchisers and crooked chefs, Laura, Howard and Monty once again find themselves on the tail of a killer. But this is no missing crumpets case and Laura is forced to realize that this time her meddling could cost her more than just her reputation…it could cost her life.
Can Laura clear her conscience of the dead pastry-chef?
Or will the killer track her down and silence her for good?
I have enclosed a preview of “Cooking With The Dead ”.
Check it out below…
It is currently at $0.99 for a Limited Time ONLY!
CLICK HERE TO GET IT NOW
CHAPTER ONE
THE HIRE
Peaceful? Laura thought to herself, collapsing in her chair behind the desk at the Woodend Cottage Hotel. Why did I think life in Millerfield was peaceful?
Already that day at work the boiler had stopped working, an elderly guest had needed the doctor, and the delivery of vegetables had been late. Laura felt like she had not sat down since her arrival.
Laura sighed and thought back to her previous days wo
rking as a receptionist at a law-firm in Cambridge, a hundred miles away. The work had seemed tedious and demanding at the time, but it was a Sunday-school picnic compared to the demands of this little hotel. It's better here, though, without Ron to contend with... Ron had been her boyfriend, a difficult character who worked at the same firm as a lawyer. Handsome, refined, cruel and an emotional bully, Laura was still healing from her years with him. Just then, her reminiscences were interrupted by a shrill voice just above her head.
“Laura?”
“Yes, Janet?” Laura asked, raising her head off the desk. Janet sounded excited, which was, she thought, a sure indication that something was causing trouble.
“Laura!” Janet exclaimed. “We have a Mr. Duvall here at reception. Says he's looking for you?” Janet gave her a questioning look, and Laura held her head, trying to think. In all the chaos of the morning, she couldn't remember her appointments for later.
“Oh!” She snapped her fingers. “Peter Duvall?”
Janet nodded. “Yes.”
“He is someone I approached about supplying pastries for the restaurant! You know,” she elaborated, “for teatime and breakfast and after dinner...Just to elevate this place a bit! Make it stand out from the crowd, you know?” Having grown up in Cambridge, Laura had a sense of refinement which, she found to her chagrin, was somewhat lacking here.
Janet looked at her oddly, but nodded. “If you say so...anyhow, he's in the reception area.”
