Without Any Warning (A Samantha Jamison Mystery Volume 2)

by Peggy A. Edelheit

  Without Any Warning

  A Samantha Jamison Mystery

  Volume 2

  A Novel

  by

  Peggy A. Edelheit

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

  Without Any Warning: A Samantha Jamison Mystery, Volume 2

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you’re reading this eBook and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of the author.

  Copyright © 2011 by Peggy A. Edelheit. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical without the express written permission of the author. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials.

  The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  Cover designed by Peggy Edelheit

  Cover art:

  Copyright © iStockPhoto #5704414

  Edited by Winslow Eliot

  http://www.winsloweliot.com

  Published by Telemachus Press, LLC

  http://www.telemachuspress.com

  ISBN #978-1-937387-71-6 (eBook)

  ISBN #978-1-937387-72-3 (paperback)

  Version 2012.05.07

  To The Girls!

  Ro & Connie,

  Renee, Liz & Val

  Beth & Judy

  To old girlfriends, new ones & those I have yet to meet

  To my two favorite Pats, Magdalene, Moyra

  Diane, Barb, Kathy, Sandi & Joyce

  To all my readers

  I could go on and on…

  You know who you all are

  & of course, Samantha

  Chase your Dreams

  & Remember,

  Every Day is a Blessing

  With Special Love to Bob

  Who still owns my heart and is

  My biggest supporter and confidant

  Marc, Aaron & Jonathan

  You guys are the best

  Acknowledgments

  IT Technical Support

  Jon Denz

  A Special Thanks To

  Winslow Eliot, Editor

  Without Any Warning

  A Samantha Jamison Mystery

  Volume 2

  Chapter 1

  Past & Present Accounted For

  So, I was drumming my fingers on my laptop, staring out from my desk at those waves hitting the beach, instead of what I should have been doing: typing.

  Not a good sign.

  My unanticipated writer’s block was killing me, plus that damn view was throwing a monkey wrench in my routine, making it impossible to concentrate. The cursor blinked on the screen, but my eyes kept wandering to bicycle riders pedaling down the boardwalk.

  When I rented this house on the island of Ocean City, New Jersey, I figured it was the perfect setup. You know, the beach, peace and quiet. The words would fly from my fingertips.

  Right.

  The problem was, every time I tried to focus, people, kites, surfers, bicycles, boats or something else caught my interest and there went my so-called good intentions. Even though the hurricane-proof glass muted the sounds outside, the visual distractions alone did me in.

  Why was I there? To be honest, the real reason for being at the beach was to get away from everybody offering me advice on how to live my life and plan my future, and also to focus on writing. So, only my close friends, agent, and editor knew exactly where I was. A bonus? I wrote under a pen name. Otherwise, my phone would be ringing off the hook.

  Now, don’t get me wrong. I loved my life. It was my former life, and everything that went with it, from which I was taking a break.

  My theory? It was just a matter of self-discipline. If I wanted to pound out a new book, then I had to focus, tune out everything, that was all. I turned.

  Would drapes help? Maybe in beige. How about blinds? Maybe I should move my desk over there...

  I sighed, annoyed at myself once again. Like I said, I have a tendency to get sidetracked and I knew it was too soon for frustration to be setting in. But after a few more days of these rewrites, if the well was still looking parched, maybe then I’d panic.

  I looked at my laptop, stumped, not having the vaguest idea why such a straightforward task eluded me. Then I remembered that the unexpected always happens when you least expect it—a valuable lesson I learned from my last book, The Puzzle, which literally rewrote my life.

  I sat there, slumped back in my chair, wavering on the umpteenth opening, when my phone rang. Relieved, I smiled, receptive for one more excuse not to stay focused on what was proving to be a major brain-cramp.

  As I reached for the phone, I noticed it said caller unknown.

  “Hello,” I said, tucking some annoying, loose blond strands back on my haphazardly clipped, upswept hair. This beach hair thing was proving somewhat hard to tame.

  “Samantha? Guess who this is?”

  “Mona?”

  A few years back, Mona had vanished after phoning and announcing that she was flying off to Europe to get married, her hurried words spewing the news while my mind tried to take it all in. Initially shocked, I barely had time to say I wished her the best when she abruptly ended the call. I had collapsed into a chair and stared at my cell phone, stunned.

  Mona had promised to fill me in when she returned, but I never heard from her again. I searched for months, but every avenue I pursued became a dead end. Faced with her disconnected phone, no family to speak to, and not knowing her married name, how could I find her?

  Now, as I heard her voice again, a trace of suspicion shifted in me.

  Why was she calling after all this time? What did she want? Why hadn’t I been able to find her? As usual, my questions and intuition started tripping over one another.

  “How did you get my cell number?” I asked, perplexed, because since we last spoke, I had changed it.

  “Your editor Sandra remembered me, and after some major begging on my part, she swore me to secrecy, saying you’re renting a home on the beach working on your next book. Last I heard, you were building a home in Highlands, North Carolina, with your husband Stephen. So, you can imagine my shock when Sandra explained his unexpected death. Sam, I’m so sorry. I wish I had known...”

  After all this time, how strange to be hearing from her! Knowing Mona, there was more, and I wanted to know the real reason she was calling. I waited impatiently for the silence to end. Besides, I was so thrown by her call, I couldn’t think of one damn coherent thing to say, but then I felt red flags going up.

  “…That’s why I absolutely refuse to take no for an answer,” she said. “We must get together before more time slips away. You’re speechless, right? Look, I’m in your area and thought I would stop by. How about it, Sam?”

  I was still in the disbelief stage as I
checked my watch. “…Well sure! …Of course! …When do you want to come over?”

  Would she finally shed some light on her last cryptic phone call?

  “How about right now?” she asked, laughing. “No time like the present to talk about the past.”

  Chapter 2

  What Were The Odds?

  “Now? What do you mean, now?” I asked, trying to process her words. “Where are you?”

  She laughed. “I’m parked outside your courtyard.”

  I hustled over to the window overlooking the gate area, opened it, and called down to her, “Mona!”

  There she was in the flesh, waving up at me. I waved back, calling down to her, “I’ll open the gate so you can park.” My earlier instincts resurfaced and skepticism suddenly kicked in.

  How would she explain her untraceable disappearance?

  She parked, we hugged, and I led her inside. After a quick tour of the house, we sat comfortably fireside. It took the edge off the unpredictable March weather, but not her visit. I was still wondering why she’d contacted me after her long silence as we sipped our coffee.

  “I don’t know where to begin,” I said. “It’s been such a long time, Mona, but first things first. How has married life been treating you?”

  “I really wouldn’t know… I never got married,” she offered slowly.

  I was taken aback by her response. “What?” That’s when I noticed for she wasn’t wearing a ring.

  “I guess it wasn’t meant to be,” she admitted, shaking her head and averting her eyes.

  Why had she deceived me from the beginning?

  “What happened?” I asked.

  Mona was embarrassed. “The truth? Joey lied to me and left me dangling out there in the wind.”

  “Why didn’t you let me know? Or anyone, for that matter?”

  “I was too humiliated.”

  “But I’m your friend. That doesn’t make sense. I don’t understand why you ran instead of facing it head on. I can tell you from my own experience, it doesn’t work. You’re only postponing the inevitable.”

  She half smiled. “I decided to run away, emotionally and physically. I even changed my name so no one could find me. Wasn’t that the craziest thing to do? But I was a basket case, Sam, and desperate. I felt I had no other option. So I fled and left everyone—including you—completely in the dark.”

  “Wasn’t that a little extreme?” I asked. Strange was what leapt to my mind, excessive and bizarre. As she leaned away, her body language confirmed that any further probing at that moment was off-limits, so I let it go.

  “Sounds crazy, I know,” she confessed, “but believe me, I had to. Look, I need someone I can trust right now, and you fit the bill. Samantha, I have no place to go. How about it? For old time’s sake?” She was teary-eyed.

  I sat there, staring at her, on the fence. Were those crocodile tears? I wanted to believe her, but I was still trying to wrap my mind around her startling news and process her odd explanation.

  Mona waited silently, fidgeting nervously with her purse strap in her lap. She couldn’t keep her eyes trained on one spot, and she constantly shifted position in her chair.

  Was she playing me with this desperate plea?

  A gut feeling finally kicked in full-force as a smile took hold of me. “Of course, and as long as you need to,” I replied, drawn in by her intriguing behavior, figuring, why fight it?

  This might be the exact storyline I needed for my next book.

  Mona let out a sigh and leaned back, visibly relieved. “I knew that I could count on you, Samantha.”

  “Where are your bags? What hotel are you staying at?”

  Mona gave a sly smile. “In the back of my car.”

  I smiled back. “Don’t assume I’m still the same old soft touch. Believe me, I’ve changed… a lot.”

  She drew back slightly, but recovered in a flash. “Then why are you helping me out like this?”

  I bottom-lined it. “Stephen’s death taught me to go with my intuition whenever possible, and you’ve piqued my interest. Now, let’s go and get your bags so you can unpack. We’ll have time to talk some more at dinner.”

  A little while later, I left Mona to freshen up, and headed to town to buy some food, still wondering about what she was holding back. I knew there was more to her story, but I would bide my time trying to weasel it out of her. Caution was kicking in, too, but as usual, I was impatient to know what her visit was really about. My fingers were already itching for my laptop, but first, I needed her story.

  Unfortunately, dinner was a non-event, with Mona avoiding the subject of what had happened to her. So, we focused on me. I explained that I was currently renting out my log home in the mountains of North Carolina, where I also owned an antique shop in town. My employee, Martha, a gray-haired, seventy-year-old, rambunctious whirlwind, who managed to run circles around me, was currently overseeing it. I also mentioned I was still unsettled about how my life had turned out.

  I deliberately didn’t mention others, as I was still unsure as to where they fit into my future. With my last book, I had learned to reveal as little as possible when dealing with the unknown factor.

  Why? You always lost your edge.

  Mona sipped her coffee. “So, you decided to come here temporarily to write without any more emotional distractions. I bet staying in Highlands didn’t help, either.”

  “You’re right. Too much to process; Stephen’s death, relationships, and my questionable future. I had to get away to try and concentrate on what I wanted for a change. No strings attached and no emotional commitments whatsoever, for the moment. I know I’ll keep in touch, though, and eventually go back there when I feel I’ve had time to adjust mentally, but all the rest? I’m not so sure anymore. I need some time to think it all through.”

  Mona sighed sympathetically. “Now, I ask you, Sam: Could our lives get any more complicated?”

  I shrugged, thinking about my past and all the crazy possibilities of the future. I shook them all off. “I doubt it,” I finally replied. “As far as I’m concerned, my life has played out for a lifetime.”

  More complicated? Come on! What were the odds?

  Chapter 3

  The Sands Of Time

  After dinner, we bundled up and headed to the beach. The winds had eased, so I figured the walk might do us both some good; I needed to clear my mind, and she, hopefully, would speak in confidence to her former friend. Mona seemed her old self most of the time, but now and then she was withdrawn and quiet.

  She listened attentively to the stories of my misadventures in the mountains, and laughed at the appropriate intervals, but she also seemed distracted, as though she was nervous about being outdoors.

  Why?

  As twilight slowly settled in, the boardwalk lights cast ghostlike shadows on the beach. Every so often, I caught Mona stealing glances all around us, confirming my suspicion that she was worried, about what? Without knowing more, how could I help her? Was she running away from someone or something?

  What had happened to Mona?

  Again, I tried to get her talking. “You know, Mona, I still can’t believe you’re here. Remember our nightly walks on the beach during our college breaks?” Hearing no response, I looked over at her. “Hey, are you okay?”

  “Yeah, I remember… In a way, I guess we’re still the same. Like you, I’m a survivor, too. But to tell you the truth, lately everything’s going south because my resources are tanking right along with my employment prospects.”

  What did that have to do with her disappearance?

  “Why?”

  She shrugged. “Who knows? My credentials aren’t good enough? I’m tired of the job-rejection thing, too.”

  I still didn’t get it. “You’re a competent financial analyst. I would think any hedge fund company would be glad to snatch you up. I don’t know of anyone more conscientious or detail-oriented. Where have you been since you left? Doesn’t experience count for something?”
/>
  “I guess they weren’t impressed with my current track record. I’ve been bouncing around a lot from here to there. You know, sort of restless over the last few years. Obviously, it doesn’t look so great on my résumé.”

  “Why didn’t you try going back to work for your old boss? Surely that firm was pleased with your performance. Plus, you really got a kick out of all the challenges it offered. Right? Couldn’t they at least recommend you?”

  “No!” Mona said tightly. “It was sort of complicated. I didn’t go back because I was Joey’s subordinate. I’m afraid my comfort level with him constantly around bordered on the impossible.”

  So, this Joey was her fiancé and her boss.

  I looked over at her as we walked. “You’re right. It would have made me uncomfortable too, working for someone who left me at the altar. Have you seen or heard from him since then?”

  Mona shuddered. “No, and I hope I never see him or hear from him again.” She turned and looked behind us as we walked, her eyes scanning the horizon.

  Searching for what? For who?

  “It must have been pretty bad. I can understand.”

  She stopped dead in her tracks on the sand, turning to me. “You don’t understand anything. At least your husband died on you, he didn’t humiliate you. Joey is the absolutely last person I ever want to see again. Period. End of conversation.”

  “Well,” I replied, “I guess that was stated plainly enough, even for thick-headed me.” We continued walking.

  What went wrong? Why such animosity?

  What disturbed me was the hint of apprehension intermingled with anger that seemed to stick to every single word that related to this guy Joey.

  Why?

  Mona’s voice cut through my jumbled thoughts.