Hot Tea and Cold Murder
By Angela C Blackmoore
Copyright 2017 by Angela C Blackmoore, All Rights Reserved
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This is a work of fiction. Any similarities to real persons, events, or places are purely coincidental. All rights reserved.
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Table of Contents
Hot Tea and Cold Murder
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
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Authors Notes
Books by Angela C Blackmoore
Other Authors (Mysteries)
Chapter 1
Abby listened to the sound of the gravel as her feet stepped down into the unknown. The sound grated on her nerves, still tender from the mixed anger and hurt that permeated her body and soul. This gravel was different than what she experienced on the Army posts. The sound it made was so foreign, and further reminded her of her alienation from everything she had known and lost.
When Danny died.
She gritted her teeth and felt her battered heart beating faster as the memories swept in of the concrete pathways and the hum of military vehicles on asphalt. She even missed the stupid eggshell yellow buildings and sounds of heavy equipment as they were serviced over at the motor pool. She’d hated when they had worked so late at night, revving the engines of the tanks, but now she missed it. It was all there, crashing into her once again and making her want to scream away the tall trees and moss covered ground she was now standing in. She would never have imagined missing the army posts, but there it was, pushing at her for the millionth time. Because Danny left her to the mercies of the base logistics officer, and paperwork, and everything else that had required she move away from her home.
Because Danny had died. Damn him.
Now, here she was, standing outside of a dark blue minivan with her eyes closed and her mind screaming, trying to block out the view of that mid-century house they had pulled up to and to make sure the cab driver didn’t think she was insane. Because, she repeated to herself over and over again, that she was just fine. That’s what the grief counselor had taught her, and she told herself every day the meditation worked. Worked so well that she had sat in her empty apartment down in Phoenix full of unpacked boxes. The featureless room that felt about as empty as she felt.
But she was here now, and she couldn’t just stand here next to the minivan and its driver, keeping her eyes shut forever. So, once again, she opened them and forced herself to deal with reality. Forced herself to move forward and keep putting one foot in front of the other. Even if there were other options, she refused to think of them. That fragile darkness was something she didn’t want to go toward and knew if she did, it would be so very hard to pull back from. So, yes, she opened her eyes. She hated the fact that even now, she expecting to see Danny’s smiling face as he picked up their luggage and told one of his awful jokes, but it wasn’t Danny.
“Are you all right, ma’am?” The driver of the blue minivan asked, his eyes showing a hint of concern as he opened up the back hatch. He lifted out the two worn suitcases and placed them on the ground before reaching in for the last, larger item that held the most precious thing in the world to her. She sometimes felt it was the last precious thing left. The crate was not the largest size you could get, but it was big enough to give Cheerio plenty of room as he yipped happily at the fresh air. Abby stirred, feeling a tired smile creep over her lips when she saw the bright pink tongue of her dog as his black and white face peeked out at her from within the plastic crate.
“Ma’am?” The driver prompted again as he stood uncertainly next to her luggage. She looked at him and saw the same look she’d experienced too often before. People didn’t like to see others in her mental state. Half there, and half missing, she thought of it. Or more than half, perhaps. It made them nervous, and the short, stout man was no exception as he fidgeted in front of her. She wondered what he’d do if she just never responded and kept staring at him, but she pushed it away. It was a sick sort of amusement, but she needed to move forward, not just stand still.
Abby took another deep breath before shaking herself and plastering a fake smile on her face. “Sorry, yes, I’m okay. I was just thinking about being in a new place. I’ve never been up to the Pacific Northwest before. Everyone told me it would be raining half the time and overcast the other, but it was very sunny up in Portland. How often does it get sunny?”
She stopped talking and just looked at him. Questions were a good way to diffuse people from being worried about you when you put them on the spot and made them think. It was a useful tool she’d learned to cover up her momentary lapses. That and the masks she put on when she could feel someone responded to her depression. Those fake masks that told the world you were ok when you weren’t. It worked most of the time because most people just weren’t interested in getting pulled into the drama. It was work to keep up the facade but was almost less work than allowing someone to console you. Letting them give you words of wisdom that you’d told yourself a million times and had stopped listening to long ago.
The driver of her minivan nodded and looked relieved before pulling his phone out. “More often than you’d think. Spring is the worst for rain, but sometimes we get showers in fall about this time. Sometimes the colder weather hits before Halloween, and sometimes after. How do you want to pay?” The man asked politely.
“Card,” Abby said and pulled out the piece of plastic before handing it over to the man. Her card that no longer had both of their names on it. She kept her eyes open this time, hiding the internal struggle stoically and marveling when he swiped it on the reader attached to his phone. Little bits of technology that continued to creep further and further into their lives. She didn’t mind technology, but she had never been a huge user of it, content to keep things simple. She didn’t get emails anymore, at least not from real people. Spam, but that was about it. Another casualty of her messed up life as she’d drifted away from old friends.
Friends she’d shared with Danny.
She looked once more at the ancient house standing quietly amongst the tall trees and wondered idly if Danny’s grandmother had a computer. It felt alien to imagine one in there. It looked too old, like the stately house might be offended at such a thing within it. She couldn’t have imagined any place like that until she found herself standing here, but there it was.
A moment later and the man had processed her card and pushed a button, looking up at her with a smile. “I’ll email the receipt to you. Thank you,” he said before reaching his wrinkled hand out f
or a handshake and passing her a business card in the process. She took it and smiled, nodding to him before he got into his van, started it up, and then drove away, leaving her all alone in front of her new home.
Alone. Abby just stood there and stared at the beautiful craftsmanship that lay before her. The house rose up into a two-storied, sharply peaked roof over windows and siding that would not have been out of place a hundred years earlier. Sunlight drifted down through the pines and broad-leaved trees that grew tall around it, bathing the building in a warm glow. Wrapped around it like an old dame’s skirt was an expansive deck that stretched across the front, around the sides of the old building, and presumably all the way around to the back. They didn’t build homes like this anymore as builders shoved huge, featureless box homes onto tiny lots. No, this was different and gently tugged at Abby’s soul.
She wasn’t sure how long she stood, listening to the faint pitter-patter of water droplets from an earlier shower fall through from the trees and beat a gentle pattern on the leaves and pine needles below. Behind that, she could hear the faint sounds of the river flowing by on both sides of the small island. It was soothing, but she was pulled out of her reverie by another bark from Cheerio as he clawed twice at the cage door on his crate. The startling sound broke her concentration, and her eyes widened as she quickly bent down and undid the gate. His cold nose pressed against her hand as she bent down, kissing his soft forehead while scratching his cheeks before letting him squirm out and begin exploring the area around him.
Cheerio wiggled madly before bounding over toward a leaf, sniffing it while wagging his tail, then onto another leaf. His excitement at their new surroundings was a balm to her sorrow, and though it wasn’t enough to drive all of the demons away, it did help. Abby turned and went to pick up her luggage and when she heard the creak of the screen door.
“Hello?” Asked an old but strong voice. “Abby? Is that you, dear? Oh, Abby, it’s so good to see you.”
Abby smiled as the elderly, but vibrant woman came out onto the porch and opened her arms. She looked up into her eyes, seeing past the bright twinkle and finding the faint shadow of pain that they shared. Still, despite everything, the smile was welcoming and made Abby feel welcome as she walked forward and gave her grandmother a hug. The two hugged for many moments before Hazel Morgan broke the embrace and held Abby out at arm’s length, looking her up and down. “How was your trip, Abby? It must be quite a difference coming from Arizona to our wet little corner of the world.”
“Yes, though not unwelcome,” Abby said, taking a deep breath and once more looking around at the massive trees that ringed the house. “Phoenix was just slipping into a barely tolerable temperature, but it’s nice to be in a much cooler climate. I’ll be honest. I’m looking forward to not spending a fortune on moisturizer, though all of my friends told me I would need to buy some scuba gear just to walk down the street.”
Both women laughed as an older man came out of the front door and made a beeline for Abby’s luggage. He was clean-shaven and had a craggy face that was doing its best to sag off of his skull. Bushy eyebrows peeked out from underneath an old trucker’s hat, looking like brush peeking out from under a granite cliff overhang. He nodded and grunted politely in Abby’s direction before picking up her two suitcases and turning to go back inside. Abby watched him curiously before turning a raised eyebrow to her grandmother. She had imagined her grandmother lived all alone, though she wasn’t sure why she had thought that.
For her part, Hazel only smiled. “That was Mr. Wilberson. He lives above the garage and helps me take care of things around here. As you probably noticed, he’s not big on socializing. I think most people would call it unquestionably grumpy, but he means well. Now, you have someone you need to introduce, don’t you?”
Abby nodded and called out to her errant, four-legged companion. Cheerio had made it over to the separate garage by that time, but at Abby’s call, he came bounding over and sniffed at Hazel, wiggling happily at meeting a new person. “This is Cheerio,” Abby said as she leaned down and ruffled the dog’s fur and scratched behind his ears. Hazel joined her, causing Cheerio to narrow his eyes in contentment. His tongue drooped out of his mouth even farther as he enjoyed the attention. “He has been my trooper this whole trip, though he’s traveled before.”
“He’s been with you through a few different Army posts, hasn’t he?” Hazel asked.
Abby nodded and straightened up as Cheerio perked his ears and ran off toward one of the big old evergreens close to the house. She watched a squirrel race up around the trunk and shook her head as Cheerio bounced around the roots and barked up at his elusive prey. “Yes, though it’s not like we were ever overseas with him, thank goodness. That’s a nightmare we never would’ve put him through, though I suppose that’s no longer a problem.” Abby trailed off, feeling her depression building as the unwelcome reminder surged. She kicked herself mentally for yet another slip that seemed to happen all too often and looked up into Hazel’s understanding eyes. Some of what she was feeling were reflected back at her.
Hazel sighed, reaching out and grasping Abby’s hand and holding it for a moment before speaking. “I’m sorry,” she said slowly. “I didn’t mean to remind you of him. I can imagine how often that happens these days. It’s part of why I wanted you to come up here. Come on, let me get you some tea and I’ll show you one of the most beautiful sites I know. It’s helped me through many difficult times over the years.”
Abby smiled tiredly at her grandmother and moved to follow her before looking back at Cheerio who was still barking at the massive pine. She took a breath as if to call for him, but Hazel laughed softly and shook her head. “Don’t worry about him, dear. We are on an island and not a very large one. I’m sure an Australian Shepherd will be smart enough not to fall into the water. He’ll be okay, and it will let him get to know his new home. Something you both need right now.”
Chapter 2
The interior of the house was at once a surprise and deeply unsurprising in its grand warmth. Polished woods flowed along the banisters of the stairwell as it rose above her head, and paneling of the same, chestnut color accented the lower half of the walls while the upper held old patterned wallpaper. Photographs floated here and there, detailing generations of Morgan family smiling faces as they tastefully looked out from their worn frames and watercolors or oil paintings stood their places in turn. Everywhere Abby looked, she saw class and warmth, almost as if the aged building were hugging her to itself and letting her know she was welcome. Hazel had turned and stood framed in the kitchen doorway, watching Abby as she soaked in her home. A wizened smile graced her lips as she watched Abby reach out and touch a photo, or slide her hands along one of the well-worn wooden accents.
Stopping in the kitchen, Hazel smiled and picked up an already prepared tea service and handed it to Abby before leading her out onto the back deck. However, calling it just a deck suddenly seemed almost a disservice. It was well-kept, and sprawled outwards, flanked by two sub levels a step or two below the main area. Built in benches were located in strategic places, and even surrounded the base of one large tree that instead of being chopped down, had instead been worked into the grace of the construction. Furthest out was a nook that was pushed outward toward the edges of the surrounding forest. It overlooked a sight that took Abby’s breath away. Hazel led her to this spot, and then as they sat, she wisely kept silent and allowed Abby to take in the sight before her.
The Morgan house had been built in the early 1900s a mere thirty years after the town of Red Pine Falls was founded by the Clawson family. Whenever Danny had spoken of his grandmother’s home, Abby could remember how he seemed to drift into the past as he was describing it. As a boy, he would play among the stately pines, nooks, and pirate caves of this happy place every summer. Each Thanksgiving and Christmas he and his parents would descend on these hallowed grounds and celebrate the passing of the seasons.
Though not large, it was a substanti
al piece of land with a granite base that rose a good way above the water. Despite the occasional flooding during the winter or spring, the old place rarely suffered more than the occasional downed tree and had aged with the grace of the grand dame it was. The builders of the house had fashioned their home strong, but also with a mind for beauty, and constructed the porch so that it almost matched the edge of the rock itself. It had provided an unparalleled view of the river before it cascaded over the falls for which the town was named.
Hazel enjoyed her relative privacy, but it was not uncommon for her to also open up her home for an occasional get-together, which her neighbors would gossip and tell stories for months afterward. In an unofficial way, it was one of the landmarks of the town, and Abby admired the view. When she finally took a breath and looked at her grandmother, blinking like a lost owl, Hazel was waiting with the teapot to freshen her now cooled drink.
“It quite a sight, isn’t it?” Hazel offered. “I must say, I couldn’t have asked for a better place to live than here. It brings my soul peace to watch this beautiful river flow by every morning and remind me of my place in the world.”
“I wish I could find my place in the world right now,” Abby said distantly as she finally took a sip of her tea. Again, she felt the doubts push up inside of her, but they were less than they had been her entire trip up to Portland. Once she had closed the door to her apartment in Phoenix for the last time, her uncertainty had spiked the doubts and depression, but here, with the river’s gentle sound and her grandmother’s patience, she could feel its effects slowly ebbing. She made a soft cooing sound and held the cup between her two hands, letting the heat chase away some of the chills in the air.
“I, for one, hope you have just found your place,” Hazel answered. “I know it will take time, but this house is far too big for just Mr. Wilberson and me. We could do with having one of the other rooms occupied.”
Abby stared out over the river for a few moments before answering quietly, uncertainty lacing her voice. “Thank you. I don’t know why you’re doing this, but thank you. Daniel was your grandson, not me, but I don’t want to be alone. After leaving the post, I managed about three months in an apartment by myself, and I don’t think I did well.”
Hot Tea and Cold Murder: A Red Pine Falls Cozy Mystery (Red Pine Falls Cozy Mysteries Book 1) Page 1
