Tail Wagging Trouble (An East Pender Cozy Mystery Book 1)

by Leona Fox

  Tail Wagging Trouble

  An East Pender Mystery Series Book 1

  Leona Fox

  Contents

  Copyright

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Copyright © 2016 Leona Fox

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher

  Chapter 1

  It was spring in the quaint, idyllic town of East Pender, which sat on the Mississippi river in East Missouri. It was a sleepy town, far removed from the swell of civilization that snaked across the rest of the country. Flowers were in bloom and the sweet smell of new life permeated the city. The sun rose for another day and cast its golden light across the small houses and the metal processing plant, which groaned as the machinery inside was turned on. It was a place out of time, and any tourist who passed through felt a sense of contentment, for they were able to escape their lives for a little while.

  The town itself was filled with bed and breakfasts and, as an old town, the buildings all had a unique quality to them; they were filled with character. The people who had lived in the town all their lives could recount tales about its history; all the loves and tragedies that had befallen people through the years. It was a friendly community, and almost everyone was ready with a smile whenever they passed on the street. The Mississippi wound through the middle of town and the constant sound of its babbling was like the company of an old friend. Since the town was encircled by a ring of trees it felt like its own land, and the people who lived in East Pender lived in a world of their own.

  In the middle of town, Ellen Thatch strode toward the cafe she owned. She was a striking woman, and her beauty belied her years. Her dark brunette hair was tied up and her hazel eyes looked at everyone with kindness. As she walked along she greeted the denizens of the town, although when she was approached by the postman she pressed her lips together in a thin smile.

  “Morning Ellen, how are you today?” he asked, standing a little bit too close for Ellen's liking.

  “I'm just fine, and yourself?”

  “Oh yes, I can't complain. Well, I could you know, but it wouldn't do any good! Listen, the book club just got the new novel that Andy's brother wrote. We're going to start reading it tonight. You should come along and join us.”

  “That sounds lovely but I really don't think I could. I don't own the book for a start!”

  “Don't you worry about that, you can sit close to me and share mine,” he said, with an unsettling look in his eyes. Ellen smiled again and declined the invitation, then quickly excused herself.

  As she walked away from the postman she quickened her pace. His attention was flattering but it seemed that almost all the men in town were attracted to her. They weren't shy about letting her know, but they all had failed. The only man she really was interested in was the one the postman had just mentioned – Andy, who was the chief of police. Unlike most people, he had moved to East Pender from the city. Because of this, Ellen had a kinship with him for she, too, had spent time living in the city. But she had been back in East Pender for a while, ever since she had to return to look after her parents, and she had no plans to return to the hectic life. There was something about East Pender that was like a hearty meal. After spending time in East Pender it gave you a sense of well-being, and it was difficult to pull yourself away and back to reality. There was a dreamlike quality to the town, and Ellen had made peace with the fact she never was going to leave.

  She didn't mind, of course. Times had been hard when her parents had been ill, and she still missed them, even though they had passed away a few years ago. But with the money they had left her she opened up The Chrome Cafe and finally she had found a place where she belonged.

  She was pleased to know Andy's brother had a new book out, although she was surprised Andy hadn't mentioned it. She remembered when the town first had heard about Andy's brother, and it made her smile to think of how embarrassed he had been. The town rarely had celebrities so any sort of glamour became a big deal, and since the town was small, word traveled quickly. About thirty years ago a film crew arrived in town to film some scenes, and that event still is talked about today. Ellen vaguely remembered it, but every year the town held a celebration where they would watch the film. It was endearing in a way. Ellen found the mentality of the people in town to be a refreshing change from that of people in the city, who were often rude and selfish. Of course, in any community there were bad eggs, but they were much less common in East Pender than they were anywhere else Ellen had lived.

  She sighed as she pulled the keys out of her pocket and opened the door, which made the bell tinkle softly. Ellen placed a doorstop to hold the door open, letting the fresh spring air fill the room. She placed her hands on her hips and then stepped inside and started to take the chairs off the tables and set up the cafe for the day. Her morning routine was second nature by now and she hummed to herself as she prepared the cafe. However, she suddenly was interrupted when she heard scampering footsteps and then the loud yap of a dog. Startled, she turned around to see a small ball of black fur and dark beady eyes staring at her.

  Ellen furrowed her brow and walked to the door, peering outside to see if she could see George Elks, for she recognized it as his dog. He could be seen every day walking Scampy around town, so it was odd to see the dog alone. It was even more odd that the dog should come up to Ellen like this, for usually animals did not like her (and she never had understood why, because she always had treated them with nothing but respect).

  “What is it boy, where's your master?” she said, leaning over to take a closer look at the dog, trying to see if there were any clues as to where George could have been. Unfortunately, there was nothing on him that gave Ellen any idea as to what could have happened. Scampy ran around her legs and started to pull at her pants with his teeth.

  “Alright, alright,” she said, trying to stop the growling.

  She shook him off and stepped outside, twisting her head in both directions in an effort to see George, but he was still nowhere to be seen. Scampy started running away, then stopped when he realized Ellen wasn't following him. He ran back up to her and started whining. Ellen leaned down and petted him, then shook her head as she tried piecing together what was going on. By now a few people passing by noticed what was going on and they approached Ellen.

  “You'd better go and follow him, this might never happen again,” they said, laughing with good humor.

  “Yeah I know, have any of you seen George? I don't think I've ever seen Scampy without him,” she said, trying to hide the concern in her voice because she didn't want to think of the worst, or worry anyone unduly. All the people around her creased their brows and pursed their lips as they tried to think.

  “I saw the two of them walking. He said he wasn't feeling too well but that he'd seen the doctor; you know he had that thing with his heart. I think the medication was working,” one of them said.

  “He must have been fine because I saw him at the pub late last night, and he seemed in good spirits. Even bought everyone a round!” another added.

  “Did he say anything that seemed out of the ordinary?” Ellen asked, trying to pay attention to what was being said, even though Scampy was being a nuisance and wouldn't leave her alone.

  “Not that I can think, we mostly talked about the usual things. He said it'
s been ten years since his wife died, so he talked about her a lot, mostly the good times they shared. I wouldn't have said he was depressed or anything. He's always able to look on the bright side of life. After he left I assume he just went back home, he didn't mention he was going anywhere else. If you want the truth of the matter I don't really think he had anywhere else to go.”

  “Hmmm, I guess I'd better see what Scampy wants,” she said, following the dog.

  It sprinted up the street and Ellen had to almost skip and jump to keep up with it. Thankfully, George's house was only a block and a half away, but on her way there a bad feeling gnawed at Ellen's gut. She could imagine only one reason why Scampy would have come to her on his own, and it didn't bode well for George. The dog took sharp left down an alley and Ellen followed, only to find the dog curled up in a ball and whining on the front doorstep of George's house. Ellen knocked loudly, then called out, but there was no response. She had a sixth sense for these types of things, and her throat tightened as she turned the handle and pushed the door open. The morning sun streamed through the window and illuminated the inside of the house. It looked neat and tidy, but there was no sign of any activity.

  “George? George, are you there?” Ellen called out, but still there was no response.

  “It's only Ellen, from the cafe, I have your dog here,” she said as she worked her way through the house, peering into the different rooms, hoping against all hope she wouldn't find what she thought she would.

  The thin hairs on the back of her neck stood up and her heart began beating rapidly. She began moving more quickly, fearing the worst. Every room on the lower floor was empty so she went up the stairs. They creaked and sighed as she stepped on each one. When she reached the top she paused for a moment, frozen by what she saw. George's feet were poking out from the bathroom doorway. He was flat on the floor.

  Regaining her composure, Ellen rushed to George’s side. He was flat on his back and his head had lolled to one side. She felt his neck but there was no pulse, and his body was cold. Evidently, he had been there for a while. Her eyes scanned the nearby area. His hands were spread limply by his side, and the bathroom was as neat as the rest of the house. George wasn't the sort to get into a rough and tumble with anyone, and there weren't any signs of a struggle. The only thing was a rogue pill that was nestled in the bathroom mat. Ellen placed her hands on her thighs and rose, then picked up the pill and examined it. She went over to the bathroom cabinet and opened it, only to find a plethora of medications inside. She didn't have time to go through each one to see which one matched. She placed the pill back where she had found it and bowed her head, saying a silent prayer for him. Tears welled in her eyes but she soon wiped them away. Downstairs she could hear the dog’s mournful cry, and it made her heart sink. She closed George’s eyes and then went to the bedroom to get a sheet with which to cover him, for she thought it was the respectful thing to do. Then, she went downstairs to the front room and called for the police. A man was dead, and although East Pender sometimes seemed like paradise, there were some things that were not possible to escape from.

  Chapter 2

  Ellen exhaled deeply and took a sip of her coffee, then took her spoon and cut a chunk out of the pumpkin pie sitting on a plate in front of her. The pie was soft, and as she placed it in her mouth she let out a satisfied sigh. The morning had been stressful. After the police had arrived she gave them a brief statement, and then returned to her cafe. The police had warned her not to talk about it with anyone until they released an official statement. So although the crowd was milling around the cafe entrance, awaiting her return, she had to defer questions until later. They left, disappointed, and she ended up closing the cafe when Andy came in so the two of them could speak alone.

  He was one of the tallest men in the town and cut a striking figure. He was dressed in his police uniform, although he had taken off his hat, which he placed on the table in front of him. Ellen had brought two forks for the pie, so Andy took a bite as well.

  “I really shouldn't be doing this since I'm on duty,” he said, his light brown eyes twinkling.

  He set the fork down and ran his hand through his sandy blond hair. There was one lock that seemed to fight against all the others, and Ellen couldn't take her eyes off it. He leaned back in his chair, and one long arm rested with a pen over the notebook that was laying open on the table next to his hat.

  “Is there anything else you can remember about the scene?” he asked.

  Ellen searched her thoughts. She was a keen observer and little escaped her attention, but as far as she could tell she had told Andy everything she knew.

  “I guess that's everything here then,” he said, flipping through his notebook. Ellen caught glimpses of the copious amount of notes he had taken.

  “How do you manage to keep all that organized?” she asked, nodding toward the notebook, “don't you ever get confused with how much you've written down?”

  “Oh no, it's all clear. I think the best way to solve crimes is to gather evidence and information and then examine it. That's the only true way you can bring people to justice.”

  “But isn't this just a simple matter of an old man dying of natural causes? He did have a heart condition you know, what else could have happened?”

  Andy shifted his eyes around and leaned forward, then lowered his voice until it bordered on a whisper, just in case anyone was listening.

  “George was a fit man, Ellen. He was getting on in years, yes, but he was active and why would his heart give out on him now? We checked the cabinets and he still had plenty of medication for his condition. I am telling you this only because you’re a friend, please do not spread this around town. We found a pill in the bathroom that didn't match any of his medications, and we don't know how it got there.”

  The words struck fear in her heart, for to think there was a murderer in the midst of East Pender was unbelievable, and the concept shook her to her core. Now that they had finished speaking about the case an awkward silence cropped up between them. Both of them wanted to say something, yet neither of them could think, for their minds were blank. Ellen cursed inwardly. She was in her forties and a grown woman, not some schoolgirl, but there was something about Andy that made her heart flutter. He was so commanding in his role as police chief but he had shown nothing but kindness to her. She felt that inexplicable, inexorable pull toward him, as though they were magnets, attracted to each other, and had no choice but to surrender to the yearning.

  When Ellen finally did speak, Andy spoke at the same time, and the two of them laughed as they fell over each other’s words.

  “I was just going to ask you if you wanted another coffee,” she said. The mid-morning sun streamed through the window. Andy gazed out at it, and then looked back at Ellen.

  “I suppose I could have one more. It's been a rough morning. I think we can treat ourselves,” he said. While Ellen was making the coffee she continued talking, raising her voice so she could be heard over the coffee machine.

  “So I heard your brother has a new book out,” she said, and because her back was turned she didn't see the scowl that appeared on Andy's face.

  “Yeah, it's called 'The Obsidian Knight',” he said, trying to hide the curtness in his voice.

  “Have you read it?”

  “No. He sent me the manuscript but I just haven't been able to get around to it,” he said.

  Ellen returned with the coffee and set the mug filled with steaming liquid in front of Andy, who wrapped his hands around it and breathed in the dark, heavy smell.

  “I would have thought you'd like all that stuff. Doesn't he write crime thrillers?”

  “Oh yes, and the people lap them up. I have enough of that in my own life. When I read something I want to escape in another world, not simply relive my day.”

  “I suppose I can understand that. I just imagined that if I had a brother or sister who was a writer I'd love to read their books.”

  “It's not all it'
s cracked up to be, believe me,” Andy said with a shrug of his shoulders.

  “What you are forgetting is when you know someone who is a writer, you often provide fuel for their stories, and sometimes they don't paint you in the most flattering light.”

  “Do you mean he's written about you?” she asked, her face lighting up. Andy rolled his eyes and bit his lip.

  “I've said too much, just forget I mentioned it.”

  “No way, I'm not going to let you get away with it that easily. Come on, you have to tell me now. Is one of his stories based on something you did?”

  “I'm not telling you,” he said, and this time it was Ellen's turn to scowl, although she did so playfully.

  She tapped her fingers on the edge of the table and finished off the pumpkin pie as she reeled off the possibilities. Andy remained impassive and unreadable until she mentioned the idea that a character was based on him. His eyes flickered ever so slightly, and from this she knew she had hit the target. She slapped her palm down on the table, making the mugs and plate jump.

  “You have to tell me who it is!” she said.

  “Uh-uh,” Andy said, shaking his head and wagging his finger.

  “I've already told you too much,” and from the tone of his voice she knew she wasn't going to get any more out of him, but she vowed to dig out one of the books and read through it to see if she recognized him. She would have done it from memory but it had been a while since she had read one of his brother's books. Ellen let the conversation settle before she spoke again.

  “Does it run in the family?”

  “How do you mean?”

  “Have you ever thought of writing a book as well?”

  “Me? Oh, no, it was only my brother who was blessed with that talent. I'm happy with my lot though. I don't think I'd like being stuck in a room all day with a laptop. I much prefer working on the streets. And there are some things, I mean...I never would say this to my brother and I know he is successful and has entertained a lot of people, but I do like the fact I make a real, tangible difference in the world. When I arrest someone I take a bad person off the streets and I see to it he or she gets the punishment they deserve. I like to think I make the world a better place, that I make a difference. Perhaps that's just me getting ideas above my station, but it's just the way I feel about it,” he said. Ellen liked the fact he was modest about his job, but proud of it as well.