A Merry Branson Murder

by Abby L. Vandiver

  A Merry Branson Murder Copyright © 2017

  Shondra C. Longino. All rights reserved.

  This eBook is intended for personal use only and may not be reproduced, transmitted, or redistributed in any way without the express written consent of the author.

  A Merry Branson Murder is a work of fiction. Any references or similarities to actual events, organizations, real people - living, or dead, or to real locales are intended to give the novel a sense of reality. All other events and characters portrayed are a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Find me on my website: www.abbyvandiver.com

  Follow me on Twitter: @AbbyVandiver

  Facebook: www.facebook.com/authorabbyl.vandiver

  Cover Design by Shondra C. Longino

  Chapter One

  “Oh what a cute tiny house!” she said, her face looking just as happy as I felt.

  I was at Roundabout Campgrounds in Branson, Missouri. A top contender on my list of where to be at Christmastime, even though the holidays were pretty far off, I felt like I was right in the midst of holiday cheer with all the good fortune I was having. A long awaited Christmas morning present couldn’t have been any better than what I was experiencing.

  My trip to Branson was my first adventure in my brand new tiny house! And no, it wasn’t just driving around the country showing off my new abode that had me as merry as a Christmas carol. And yes, it was true, I had always been known as a show-off, and truly, I was trying to change that one designer purse at a time, but my new home was actually something to be proud of. How could I not be bursting with joy?

  And the other thing in my one-two punch of the best It’s-Not-Christmas Christmas presents ever was that I was a house sitter! OMG. An unusual job, but one that anyone had to be able to appreciate. I was going to travel around the country, my tiny house in tow, and watch over people’s houses and pets.

  “And is that your loft?”

  Oh, I forgot I was doing a tour. I shook my head and wiggled my way out of my reverie. Standing in the midst of my miniature digs were my friends, Swan and Ethan Meilyr, owners of the Roundabout Campground in Branson.

  Swan stood pointing up to my “second floor,” her face full of the same admiration and wonderment I had felt the first time I’d seen the inside of it.

  “Yes!” I said, my excitement jiggling out every pore of my body. “Isn’t that the coolest thing?”

  “It is,” she said, a mischievous smile spreading across her face. “But how in the world can you get up there in your heels?”

  I glanced down at my 5-inch heel everyday pumps and smiled. “Ha!” I said. “You know I can do anything in heels! The higher the better. But,” I drew out the word as I waltzed over to the steps that went up to the loft. “Since I am trying to turn over a new leaf, sort to speak,” I eyed her and gave a crooked smile. “I take them off before I go up.” I opened a hidden shoe rack inside the side of the steps and did my best Vanna White sweep of hand.

  “Well, now that is really cool. You can fit all kinds of stuff in there.” She came over and peeked inside.

  I frowned. “It’s only for shoes.”

  “I just meant . . . You know . . . if you needed to store anything else.”

  “What else would I want to keep?”

  “I couldn’t imagine,” she said and chuckled as she glanced around my 280-foot dwelling. “You like it Ethan?”

  Her husband, who had been doing a prolonged nodding of his head ever since he walked in, drew in a long breath. “It’s tiny,” he said.

  “Yes, it is.” I said. “Whoever would have thought I could downsize this much?”

  “I didn’t,” Swan said.

  “I know, right?” I agreed. “And at first, I thought I’d have to go through therapy giving up everything. But after my experience in Collierville . . . Ooo!” I fanned my face with my hand, “I found that all those things weren’t as important as I thought.”

  On my visit to Memphis, I had attempted to go on one of my shopping excursions in the small suburb of Collierville. But, was soon derailed and ended all wrapped up in a murder investigation.

  “Well, good for you, Nixie,” Swan said. “I’m proud of you.”

  That made me beam. I really respected Swan. She was not only beautiful – hour glass shape, apple bottom, blonde with big brown eyes, she had accomplished a lot. My one-time babysitter, and all-time good friend, moved from our hometown of Connors Grove in New York when she married Ethan Meilyr. They moved to Branson where Ethan had inherited land and had started their own humble little business. The Roundabout Campgrounds was now booming and boasting itself as the second best campgrounds around. That’s a lot to say for two young, first-time out entrepreneurs.

  I, on the other hand, had left Connors Grove and gone to California to try my hand at being famous. No, no specific talent to speak of, but nowadays it didn’t take much talent at anything to become famous. So, I decided why not try. That move, unfortunately, didn’t work out as well for me as the Meilyr’s enterprise had for them. I was still waiting on just my fifteen minutes of fame.

  I wasn’t sure I’d ever find it though, after not being able to find it in L.A. Maybe if I had taken the time to have a plan, my foray into the search for fame would have come out better. What I did find was designer bags, clothes and shoes on every corner, even, if you can believe it, in thrift stores. I couldn’t resist buying them and my credit cards, nor my landlord, could sustain all the weight of my purchases.

  Broke, I decided to head home. Only not with the steam of a locomotive that I had when I bulleted across the country to get there. Returning would be more likened to a snail. Inch by inch. And to slow it down, and soak up all the things I was probably going to miss by returning to Small Town America, I was going back home one big city at a time.

  So far, that hadn’t work out too well for me either. On only my second stop, the one in Memphis, Tennessee, where I’d been all jazzed up to see, I’d found a stalker in addition to the murder.

  That’s when I decided that that chasing after designer wear could have disastrous consequences.

  “So you know you’re welcomed to park your tiny house here,” Swan was saying when I came back from the mental itinerary of my trip.

  I stretched my eyes and looked at her. I wasn’t sure how much I’d missed of what she’d said. “Do what?” I said.

  “I said you can stay here. Your tiny house is RV certified, right?”

  “Yes it is,” I said. “But I have a job.”

  “I know,” Swan said. “I just wanted you to know it’s okay.”

  “And what are you going to do with the house?” Ethan asked. “While you’re on this new job of yours?”

  “I am actually renting out space in the driveway of the people I’m housesitting,” I said.

  “Doesn’t have to be a big driveway to hold your house,” Ethan said. I looked at him out the corner of my eye, I wasn’t sure if he was being nice or sarcastic.

  Swan backhanded him across the arm. “That’s the whole idea,” she said. She looked at me. “I’m just worried about you. Your grandparents would be upset with me if something happened to you while you were here.”

  I laughed. “Swan, you’re not my babysitter anymore.”

  ‘I know.” She rubbed my arm. “But I still feel responsible.”

  “Hellooo,” a yodel came through, then a knock on my partially-opened door. “We were wondering if we could see your tiny house.” A woman who was standing at the door, turned and pointed to the small crowd that had gathered outside.

  “Oh no,” Swan said. “This is her private home.” She walked to the door and the woman backed out.

  “It’s okay,”
I said. I went to the door and saw the swarm of people standing around. Ethan followed behind me.

  “I love your tiny house,” one person yelled out.

  “It’s the first one I’ve seen that wasn’t on TV,” another one said.

  “Hey, Ethan,” one woman said.

  Swan and I directed our eyes her way.

  “Blu,” Ethan said and nothing more. She was the only well-wisher he’d acknowledged. That I figured couldn’t be good.

  Swan looked at him, then over at the girl.

  Ethan’s “friend” had full lips and her wide blue eyes sparkled with mischief. Her skin was smooth and her dark reddish-brown hair was thick and cut into a stylish bob. She wore some killer jeans, boot cut that hugged her hips. I wanted her to turn around so I could see the back pockets. I was almost sure they were by True Religion.

  “Why don’t you tell your friend to let us see her house?” Blu said, her eyes trained on Ethan. “Everyone wants to know what a tiny house really looks like inside.”

  “Yeah!” a few people yelled out in agreement.

  “He’s looking out for his friend, that’s why.” Swan turned to the blue-eyed girl seemingly to make sure she knew her remarks were addressed to her. “Nixie is in Branson to housesit for responsible citizens of our city, not to bother with your shenanigans,” Swan said haughtily. “And that would entail keeping her away from you.” Everyone in the crowd turned to see what the girl had to say after being put on the spot.

  She held up her hands blasting that mischievous smile of hers. “I’m not here to cause any trouble,” she said and glanced over at Ethan. “I just like seeing good-looking things.”

  “That would be a first, Blu,” Swan said, her sarcasm oozing out and plopping down on that girl. “You not causing any trouble.” Swan avoided the “good-looking” comment.

  It was easy to see that Swan didn’t like her.

  I sized Blu up. Her arms were muscular like she worked out, but her hands had veins poking out and looked rough like she did manual labor. It seemed it was Blu’s familiarity with Ethan that bothered Swan because I didn’t mind people asking me to see my house.

  But Swan didn’t have anything to worry about, I thought. Other than her True Religion jeans, Blu wasn’t all that. Well, she was pretty. I had to give her that, but in a rough sort of way not feminine like Swan.

  Oh, but the girl’s cowboy boots – now they were nice. My eyes got stuck on them. Shiny. Leathery. Pretty. I wondered how much they cost . . .

  “Lock up,” Swan said touching my arms and breaking into my thoughts again. “Make sure no one can get into your house. Leave your dog, and let’s go over to our place.” She barked out the orders to me. “I’ve planned lunch for us.”

  The crowd started to slowly disperse as I went in to get my keys. Blu, Instigator Girl, was still standing around as we stepped off my little stoop of a porch. Grinning. But she left with the other stragglers as we ventured off toward Swan and Ethan’s cabin.

  “You still keeping up with your martial arts?” Swan leaned in and asked me as we walked toward her place.

  “Yes. I said. I’m a Fifth Dan.” She scrunched her face. “Fifth degree black belt,” I explained.

  “Oh, that’s even better,” she said. “I may need you to do some karate to that Blu James.”

  Chapter Two

  Karate wasn’t a verb. I couldn’t, as Swan suggested, “do some” Karate to someone. But I knew what she meant. And if she’d given me the word, I would have gave Miss Blu a good flip – even out the score as I saw it because her presence sure had sent Swan for a loop.

  Ethan knew Blu had done something to Swan’s equanimity too. And the rest of the afternoon he seemed to be trying to make up for it, but Swan wasn’t having it. She was going to make him pay for saying that girl’s name or even giving her the time of day, which made things kind of awkward for me.

  I didn’t know exactly what had happened between the three of them that had upset Swan. I couldn’t ever imagine Ethan having anything romantic to do with anyone other than his wife who he’d always said was the love of his life. And, I’m sure even if he had cheated in some way, he wouldn’t tolerate the woman coming to his and Swan’s place of business and where they lived. He would have to know that would be too upsetting for anyone to take.

  Still, it seemed to me that Swan’s reaction to Blu was based on jealousy. Why else would Swan want me to do karate on her?

  Lunch did not go well at all. I even tried to duck out of the uncomfortable situation several times, but Swan wouldn’t hear of it. She insisted that I wait until she finished cooking lunch and I ate. But I couldn’t eat. I was queasy all over, especially my stomach. I picked over my food, and moaned all through the silence treatment she was giving Ethan. She didn’t let me go until she finished every single morsel of food on her plate. Even a second helping of it. It was just like the old saying: Misery loves company.

  I didn’t know as the “company” I was supposed to be miserable too.

  I made a mental note to not even wear the color blue around Swan again. I certainly didn’t want to stir this angst up again. And I was definitely going to park my house way in the back of the lot next time around. Far, far away from the maddening crowd where Blu James may be lurking.

  I was sure that Ethan was formulating similar plans in his head as well.

  I bolted for the door once lunch was over. I felt bad for Ethan, he was stuck, but a sympathetic look, and a warm rub of my hand on his back was all the comfort he was getting from me.

  I was too happy to head out of that house and over to my first house and pet sitting assignment.

  Michael and Angela Dallasandro were the owners of the house and dog where I was going to work. They were vacationing in the Cook Islands for a week and didn’t want to have to put their new rescue pup back in a kennel, even if it were only for seven days. So they called Ava Dewey at Harrington House and Pet Sitters, my new employer. And then Ava Dewey called me.

  I worked for a global service company!

  Well at least one that expanded across the 48 contiguous states. That to me, was worldwide. I smiled as I re-centered my GPS map. I was going to make my mark all across the country after all.

  And it was the perfect job for me. I loved helping people and I loved animals. What could be better?

  When I got the call, I was on the first road trip after I’d gotten my new house, headed to Cleveland, Ohio to see the Rock-n-Roll Hall of Fame. I had gotten the job while in Collierville, but had been told that there weren’t any assignments available. So I was super happy when I got the call from Ava. I squealed with delight and jerked too hard on the steering wheel to make a U-turn, veering me, my little mutt, Alfie, and my tiny house across the highway.

  I hadn’t ever been to Branson, even after Swan had moved there, and even though it wasn’t on my Big City list of places to visit, because it wasn’t one (Pop. 10,520), I was super excited to go. Harrington gave me stipend, a company gas card and paid for insurance on my vehicle. All I had to do was get to my assignment on time and walk their dog and water their plants.

  I arrived at my destination “on the right” as my GPS informed me and found the Dallasandro’s house. It was beautiful. A stately brick colonial with white columns out front. There was a long, wide circular driveway which I was grateful for. I had made a deal with the homeowners, through Ava, as I’d told Swan and Ethan, to park my house in their driveway. They’d told me, although they’d never seen my house, that the drive would be big enough. It was and thank goodness for the half-moon sea of asphalt, because if it hadn’t of been, I was unsure how I would have backed the car up with the house attached. I was still learning how to maneuver it, even though, as Ethan said, it was really tiny.

  I parked in the drive and turned, a beaming smile on my face and spoke to my little doggie through my rearview mirror. “We’re here, Alfie!” I gave him a quick rub. “What do’ya think? You ready for an adventure?” I turned around and lo
oked at him in the backseat and he barked his response.

  “Yes, me too,” I said. “I am definitely ready for this.” I opened my car door. “Hold on. Let me get your door.” As I started to climb out, I heard my stomach rumble. I took in a breath and looked at my furry baby. “Well, you were lucky staying in the house with your bowl of food while I went to Swan’s.” I rubbed my belly. “But I wasn’t able to eat anything and now I can feel it.”

  Alfie looked up at me as if asking “What I was going to do.” Being in the middle of Swan and Ethan’s little tiff had taken away my appetite. I was too nervous to eat, something that never happened to me.

  “I’m going to get something to eat,” I told him. “As soon as I can unhitch this house and put you inside of it.”

  Liam Carter, who owned the Carter Tiny House Ranch in Collierville, and the gifter of my house, had made me practice literally a thousand times on how to do unhitch it.

  He and his family, blood and extended, had been so happy when I helped solved the murder of Liam’s father, Big Willie Carter, owner of the Carter Tiny House Ranch. So happy that they had insisted Big Willie would have wanted me to have a tiny house of my own.

  I was ecstatic when I got it. So much so that my whole entire body just went into spasms of delight. I erupted into a squeal that sent everyone around me into a fit of giggles. I still found it hard not to giggle every time I thought about it.

  I pulled my big Marc Jacobs bag over my shoulder and led my dog into the house. I knew I probably should have grabbed the Dallasandro’s dog from their neighbors’. And I probably should have gone inside their house, checked on it, and watered the plants or whatever I needed to do. But they had just left the evening before. How much could happen to their house or to a plant overnight? From the outside it looked fine. And I knew their dog was safe because I had to pick him up from the neighbor across the street.

  So what could it hurt to hold off on my duties and grab a bite to eat first? It wasn’t going to take long.