Rest in Peace

by Frances Devine

  © 2011 by Frances Devine

  Print ISBN 978-1-60260-397-4

  eBook Editions:

  Adobe Digital Edition (.epub) 978-1-60742-265-5

  Kindle and MobiPocket Edition (.prc) 978-1-60742-266-2

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission of the publisher.

  Scripture taken from the New King James Version®. Copyright © 1982 by Thomas Nelson, Inc. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual people, organizations, and/or events is purely coincidental.

  Cover design: Faceout Studio, www.faceoutstudio.com

  Published by Barbour Publishing, Inc., P.O. Box 719, Uhrichsville, OH 44683, www.barbourbooks.com

  Our mission is to publish and distribute inspirational products offering exceptional value and biblical encouragement to the masses.

  Printed in the United States of America.

  DEDICATION

  I’d like to thank Susan Downs, who was willing to take a chance on The Misadventures of Miss Aggie, and Barbour Publishing for their helping hand to new authors. To Nancy Toback, whose editing skills helped to get the manuscript to its final form in the best shape possible. Thanks, Nancy.

  Thanks to Cedric Benoit for being kind enough to allow me to put him and his wonderful band, The Cajun Connection, into my stories. You’re the greatest.

  To Silver Dollar City for giving me permission to mention you in all three books.

  To my friends at the Hughes Senior Center who pray for me.

  To Carol, who tells me to write and then prays that God will inspire me.

  To my family. You are all my darling angels.

  And to my heavenly Father, thank You for giving me the desires of my heart.

  FRANCES L. DEVINE grew up in the great state of Texas, where she wrote her first story at the age of nine. She moved to southwest Missouri more than twenty years ago and fell in love with the hills, the fall colors, and Silver Dollar City. Frances has always loved to read, especially cozy mysteries, and considers herself blessed to have the opportunity to write in her favorite genre. She is the mother of seven adult children and has fourteen wonderful grandchildren. Frances is happy to hear from her fans. Please e-mail her at cozymysteries@aol.com.

  Table of 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

  Chapter 20

  Epilogue

  CHAPTER ONE

  Come—umph—on—Buster!” I pulled and tugged in an attempt to get the monster of a dog out of the backseat of the van. Apparently he remembered Clyde Foster’s pet store all too well. Sorry old boy, shot time again.

  I wasn’t entirely sure it was legal for Clyde to be giving shots, but the seniors at Cedar Lodge Boarding House assured me he’d been doing it for years, and the alternative was a thirty-mile drive down curving roads to Branson. One final tug and the unwilling animal came sliding off the seat. Sighing with relief, I blew a stray lock of hair from my forehead, snapped the leash onto Buster’s collar, and headed for the door. I didn’t always win these wrestling matches with the humongous dog.

  As we approached the shop, Buster stopped abruptly. His hair bristled, and a low growl emitted from his throat.

  “What’s wrong, boy? Smell a cat in there?” I reached for the doorknob.

  Buster stared up at me and whined, blocking the door.

  Dread washed over me. A feeling I had become familiar with in the past couple of years. This was more than Buster’s reluctance to get a shot.

  “It’s okay, boy. Let’s take a look inside.” I turned the knob, then with caution, pushed the door open. Buster pressed close against me as I stepped inside. A loud screech pierced the air. I screamed and pressed my hand to my thundering heart. Catching my breath, I forced a chuckle. Clyde’s parrot, Whatzit, was going to be the death of someone one of these days. Still, it wasn’t like him to screech so long and loud. I glanced toward his cage, surprised to find it empty.

  Sunlight streamed in through the open door, flooding the room with daylight. The overhead light still burned, as well as several wall lights. Highly unusual. Clyde was known for being very frugal, or cheap, as some would say. His customers often complained that he kept the shop too dark.

  “Mr. Foster?” My voice cracked. I really needed to get a grip. For crying out loud, I was thirty-one, not ten. I cleared my throat and tried again. “Mr. Foster, it’s me, Victoria Storm. I have Buster with me for his shot.”

  A heavy silence lay on the shop. I drew a deep breath. Get yourself together, silly. He probably went upstairs for something. But Buster had started toward the rear of the shop, a low growl coming once more from his throat.

  I followed cautiously through the door into the dark storage area.

  “Mr. Foster?” My strained whisper seemed loud in the dead silence, but Clyde Foster either didn’t hear or chose not to answer.

  Swallowing hard, I blinked, and suddenly my eyes became accustomed to the darkness. I gasped and froze in my tracks. Nausea washed over me. Clyde lay sprawled on the floor, halfway on his stomach, his head sideways in a pool of blood.

  Buster stood beside him, whining as he nudged the still form.

  I forced myself to move, stumbled across the room. Bending, I pressed two fingers against his throat. No pulse.

  With shaking hands, I yanked my cell phone from the front pocket of my jeans and dialed 911. After telling the dispatcher what I’d found, I pulled on Buster’s leash and stumbled back into the front room of the shop. Whatzit was perched on a corner of a supply cabinet and continued his ear-splitting screech.

  “It’s okay, Whatzit. It’s okay.” My voice trembled as I tried to calm him. Wild-eyed, he stared at me and then began to squawk unintelligibly again.

  Poor Whatzit. Of course it wasn’t okay. And apparently, he knew that very well. I approached him warily. Should I try to get him back into his cage? Not with that look in his eyes. I headed toward the door, and Buster growled at the bird before following me.

  I peered out the door, watching for the sheriff. What in the world would Whatzit do now? Who’d want to take the cantankerous bird? Miss Aggie, maybe. I took a deep breath. What was wrong with me? Worrying about a bird when a man was dead? Okay, so Clyde was mean and crabby and had scared me half to death when I was a child. But as far as I knew, he was all alone. If he had family, I’d never heard of them.

  I sighed with relief as the sheriff’s vehicle turned the corner and pulled up in front of the pet shop. Sheriff Bob Turner and his deputy, Tom Lewis, got out and headed toward the door.

  When the sheriff saw me, he stopped in his tracks and frowned.

  “Victoria, are you the one who called about a body?”

  “Yes.” I was happy the word came out strong. I wouldn’t want Bob Turner to have the satisfaction of knowing how shook-up I was. “Mr. Foster’s in the back room, and I think…he’s dead.”

  He grunted and walked past me with Tom Lewis tailing him like a shadow. Like the sheriff’s little puppy. Ah. Stop that, Victoria. Sarcasm seemed to be second nature with me, but I’d been doing so much better lately. Well, exc
ept in my thoughts. Sorry, Lord.

  I hurried after the two officers.

  The sheriff stooped down next to Clyde and checked for a pulse. “Tom, get the coroner over here. He’s dead all right. Looks like he fell and hit his head on that stone doorstop.”

  I glanced at the doorstop and could make out a dark blotch. Nausea threatened to rise up again. I swallowed and licked my dry lips.

  The sheriff stood, rubbing his back, then turned and scowled as he saw me standing by the door.

  “Don’t look at me like that. I didn’t kill him.” My voice sounded guilty to my own ears.

  “Did anyone say you did?”

  The sheriff and I had a cautious respect for one another, but I suspected he didn’t like me very much. For the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why. Did he think it was my fault I kept getting mixed-up in what he considered his business? I certainly didn’t get involved with kidnappers and dead bodies on purpose.

  After asking a few questions, he told me I could leave.

  “Do you have a problem with me taking Whatzit withme? Miss Aggie might be able to calm him down. He’s used to her.”

  He scratched his head. “I guess it’s okay. One less animal I have to worry about.” He glanced at the snake cage, and his face paled. I couldn’t help grinning. I’d bet he wouldn’t be the one to care for the other pets in the store. “But only until we can get in touch with Clyde’s next of kin,” he added.

  Skirting Clyde’s body, I made my way over to the corner of the room and grabbed Whatzit’s heavy portable cage, then wrestled it into the front room. After a little coaxing, Whatzit hopped into it. Tom carried it to the van for me and placed it on the backseat, while I opened the passenger door for Buster to get in. I drove home as Whatzit’s insane screeching and Buster’s furious barking knifed through my skull. I turned onto my street, and Cedar Lodge Boarding House came into view. Fallen leaves scattered about, promising an early fall. Ivy grew up the bricks of both front-wall fireplaces, lending ambience to the centuries-old ex-hunting lodge. Pulling into the wide driveway, I drove into the parking garage. Then reality hit me. How would my senior boarders and friends take the news of Mr. Foster’s death? None of them were close to him, except Miss Aggie, but they’d known him for years. Besides, they’d been through so much over the past two years with Miss Aggie’s kidnapping and then the murder at Pennington House.

  I managed to get Whatzit’s cage off the backseat and onto a worktable in the rear of the garage. When I opened the van door, Buster sprang out and jumped on me, his huge front paws landing on my chest.

  “Calm down, old boy. And let’s not spill the beans justyet.” I rubbed his head, grabbed his leash, and headed for the side door. I’d wait until they were all together to break the news gently. It’s hard to hear about a neighbor dying, and all alone, at that.

  I inhaled deeply. The spicy aroma wafting from the spick-and-span kitchen washed over me like liquid peace. I un-clipped the leash from Buster’s collar, and he shot out into the hall and headed to the recreation room. I didn’t blame him. He knew where love and safety lay. By the time I got there, he was reveling in the adoration of Miss Jane and Miss Georgina. Martin Downey looked on with an impatient frown.

  “Victoria, come join us. We were just about to start a game of dominoes.” Miss Jane Brody motioned from the card table.

  “You just want me to play because you and Miss Georgina always beat me,” I teased.

  “Why, Victoria Storm, that’s not true. We love your company.” Miss Georgina twisted her hankie and gave me a worried look.

  “I know, Miss Georgina. I was joking.” I walked over and kissed the sweet lady on her plump face, then glanced around the room. “Where’s Miss Aggie?”

  “Where do you think?” Miss Jane grinned, and her thin face lit up. “Putting finishing touches, as she calls it, on Pennington House. She’s so excited, I think she might explode before opening day.”

  I knew what she meant. Since Miss Aggie Pennington-Brown and her nephew Dane, who we called Corky, started renovations on the family mansion, Miss Aggie hardly stayedstill a moment. The grand opening of the swanky hotel and restaurant was scheduled for November 1st, just a couple of months away. A first of its kind for Cedar Chapel. But its proximity to Branson and the Lake of the Ozarks should be favorable for business. Miss Aggie couldn’t wait to move into her new apartment in her girlhood home.

  “Did she say if she’d be home for lunch?” I didn’t want to have to repeat the sad news twice.

  “Yeah.” Martin snorted. “She’s going to eat lunch, then drive to Branson to spend more money on fancy gewgaws.”

  “How about Miss Evalina and Frank?” Evalina Swayne and Frank Cordell, who had been childhood sweethearts before Frank fell for someone else, had surprised us all by announcing their engagement the year before. They’d been married just before Christmas here at the lodge. We’d all expected them to move into their own home since Frank was very well-off due to a percentage from the candy stores he’d turned over to his son. But to our surprise and delight they’d chosen to remain among their old friends. They now resided in the elaborate second-floor suite vacated by former actress and their old acquaintance, Jeannette Simone.

  “Eva and Frank are shopping. Should be home any minute,” Miss Jane informed me.

  Good. I’d only have to break the news to them once, while the group was together after lunch. That is, if Miss Evalina and Mr. Frank didn’t hear about it while they were out.

  The house phone rang, and I hurried into the hall and snatched it from its cradle. “Hello?”

  “Victoria, Bob Turner here.” The sheriff’s voice was clipped. “The coroner has ruled Clyde Foster’s death anaccident, just as I said it was. I wanted to let you know we don’t need more information from you.”

  Puzzled, I thanked him and hung up. Why would he bother to call just to tell me he didn’t need anything? Did he simply want me to know he was right about the death being an accident? Rather odd. I shrugged and went back into the rec room.

  Unusual silence hung over us as we sat in the front parlor. I’d told them about Clyde’s death. After the initial cries of dismay, the seniors had grown quiet. Miss Aggie had taken Whatzit up to her room, and the other seniors had gathered in the rec room. When I’d peeked in an hour or so later and heard the sighs of discontent, I asked them all to come into the parlor for tea. I wished someone would say something. Even Buster, stretched out in front of the empty corner fireplace, lay unusually still.

  Finally, Frank cleared his throat. “Are they sure it was an accident?”

  A rustling sound spread throughout the room as the rest of the gang seemed to come to attention. Six expectant faces turned my way.

  “That’s what the sheriff told me.” Maybe my voice didn’t sound too certain. The expressions across my friends’ faces ranged from vague worry to dread.

  “I don’t know why he’d lie to me.” Oops. That sounded even worse.

  “Victoria, what are you keeping from us?” Miss Evalina’s intense gaze told me she’d stand for no nonsense. I wondered how many children had folded under that look throughthe years. Even now, the retired teacher could send quivers through me.

  “Nothing, Miss Evalina, I promise. It was just a vague feeling I had when I saw the body.”

  When they continued to stare, I told them about Bob Turner phoning me for no apparent reason. There, that was all I knew. I hoped it would be enough for them.

  Miss Evalina nodded, apparently satisfied. “Makes sense. Bob probably forgot to tell you he might need to talk to you some more. And vague feelings can be caused by indigestion. With a grand opening and two weddings coming up in a few months, we don’t have time for another mystery.”

  Butterflies danced in my tummy as I thought of Benjamin, my fiancé. We were planning our wedding for Christmas Eve at Pennington House. Corky and Phoebe’s wedding, scheduled for the week before ours, would actually be the first one to take place at the newly reno
vated mansion. And that was only right. After all, Corky was a Pennington.

  “I’m not so sure.” Miss Aggie spoke up from the wing chair by the door.

  “What do you mean, Aggie?”

  Excitement darted from Miss Aggie’s eyes. “I know what Whatzit is screaming about.” She paused and glanced around. “I didn’t think much of it, but if there’s any question about Clyde’s death being an accident, it could be important.”

  “What is it, Aggie?” Martin hated what he viewed as melodrama. “Are you going to tell us or not?”

  “Oh, don’t be so snappy. I was getting ready to tell you. He’s saying, ‘No, no, get out!’“

  To be honest, the fake fear in her voice gave me a chill.

  Maybe Miss Aggie had taken a few acting lessons from Miss Simone. Or was it possible Miss Aggie really was afraid?

  “I don’t remember hearing him say that before.” Miss Georgina’s voice shook, and I knew I’d better do something before she went into hysterics.

  “Of course you didn’t,” Miss Aggie said. “He’s repeating what Clyde said to his killer.”

  I sidled over to the other end of the sofa and took Miss Georgina’s hand. Oh Lord, please don’t let her faint.

  Miss Evalina rose, fury on her face. “Aggie Brown, stop it right now. You’re upsetting Georgina.” She turned to her cousin. “Don’t pay any mind to her. She’s just trying to get attention, as usual.”

  “I was merely telling you what the stupid parrot was saying,” Miss Aggie snapped, her eyes flashing. “Don’t be such a scaredy-cat, Georgina. We’re in our own parlor, for goodness sake. Do you think Victoria would let anyone hurt you?”

  For the first time since inheriting Grandma’s house, I was having unkind thoughts about one of her old friends. Actually, I felt like shaking Miss Aggie.

  “Dang, Aggie, don’t be so mean.” Martin, who usually had little patience for Miss Georgina’s timidity, was actually coming to her defense. Or maybe his dislike for Miss Aggie was stronger.

  Feeling a bit guilty for my own irritation, I figured I’d better take control of the situation.