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KILLER CAMPAIGN
Small town politics can be murder.
Until she went with her boyfriend to ask the mayor to fund a spay and neuter clinic, Lisa Chance had never even set foot in city hall. But this all changes after the mayor is caught in an illegal gambling ring and fired.
With the town’s political landscape turned upside down, long-simmering tensions threaten the peace and stability of Moss Creek.
Now Lisa’s mother feels it’s her duty to run for the vacant office, and ropes Lisa into acting as her campaign manager.
When a murder disrupts the rival campaign, it seems no one in town is safe. Can Lisa find the killer in time to protect the town and the people she loves?
KILLER CAMPAIGN, the third book in the Lisa Chance Cozy Mystery series, is available on all ebook retailers: books2read.com/u/3nOxB6
Read a sample chapter from KILLER CAMPAIGN
Chapter 1
Lisa dipped a tasting spoon into the big mixing bowl and brought it up to her lips. Her eyes told her the faintly purple goo should taste like blueberry or grape, but her mouth confirmed it as the heavenly sweet and tart mix of lemon icing. The other bowl on the counter held a similar mixture, tinted green and flavored with lime.
Lisa tossed the tasting spoon in the sink and grabbed two fresh ones, dipping one in the lemon and one in the lime and dabbing a spot of each icing on one of her tester minimuffins. Mama Cat rubbed against Lisa’s legs and chirped an encouraging meow.
“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Lisa said to the purring black and white cat. “Here goes nothing.”
She lifted the tester muffin and took a bite. Sweet mingled with tart, along with little pops of crunch from the poppy seeds and the zing of ginger and pineapple. A smile spread across Lisa’s face as she chewed.
“I think it’s good. I think it’s really good.”
The wind howled outside, the early spring storm making the old house creak and complain. Lisa considered the disaster of the fruitcake muffins she’d tried to sell around Christmas. She’d only unloaded the last of the candied fruit confections in February, and at a deep discount. This time, she would be smarter. This time, she would have other people taste-test her creation before putting it on sale.
She grabbed her phone and called her boyfriend Mo. His phone went right to voicemail. Lisa checked the clock. Nearly seven. She dialed Mo’s office.
“Moss Creek Veterinary. This is Shelby.”
“Hi, Shelby. It’s Lisa. Is Mo still there?”
“Sure is, hon. I’ll get him.” Shelby’s maternal smile came through the phone line.
“Hello?” Mo said a moment later.
“Hey, it’s me.”
“Hi.” The warmth he put into the single syllable made a blush creep across Lisa’s cheeks, leaving her glad the café was closed for the day.
“Are you busy tonight? I have a recipe that needs taste-testing.”
Mama Cat rubbed against Lisa’s legs again. Lisa smiled at the cat.
“I’d love that,” Mo said. “I just need to finish up here and I’ll be right over.”
Hanging up the phone, Lisa shoved the device in her pocket and set about cleaning up the kitchen for the second time that day. She spread icing on the rest of the test batch of muffins and arranged them on a tray, putting the tray out of her way in the library. In the café’s commercial kitchen, she washed dishes, scrubbed counters, and then cast a sad eye on the floors. She and Annette had moved the rubber mats aside at the end of the café’s service hours to sweep and mop. Was it really necessary to mop them a second time? On the one hand, there were the health regulations. On the other hand…
A crash on the front porch tore Lisa’s attention away from the state of her floors.
“What was that?”
Another bang and crash echoed, followed by a groan. Mama Cat arched her back, the fur standing on end. Lisa’s stomach clenched. Could Mo have tripped on the stairs?
Lisa ran for the front door. She drew the bolt and flung the door open.
“Mo?” she said into the darkness.
A rough voice uttered a string of curse words. Lisa flipped the light switch, bathing the front porch in yellow.
The man on the porch growled another curse word and hauled himself to his feet. Lisa leaned on the doorframe and stared at him. A bulbous red nose mapped with broken capillaries sat square in the center of his over-tanned face. He straightened his brown suede sport coat and ran a hand through his hair, patting the longer strands of his comb-over into place.
“Those steps are a hazard. Lucky if you haven’t been sued yet,” he said when he noticed Lisa standing there.
“I…” Lisa began.
“No light on stairs. What kind of a way is that to treat customers?”
“Actually, we’re closed,” she said. She drew back inside the house and started to close the front door.
He pushed his foot forward into the gap, keeping the door open. “What kind of business is this?” He leaned in and squinted at her.
“This is a coffee shop, sir, and if you come back during regular business hours I’ll be happy to …”
“Coffee! Just what the doctor ordered.”
“Sir, I’m afraid you don’t understand. We’re closed.”
The man shouldered the door open and brought his face close to hers. “Coffee,” he said.
Up close, she could smell the whiskey on his breath. She shivered, as every warning she’d ever heard as a girl came crowding into her mind. Watch out for strange men. Drunks are dangerous. Avoid pushy men. Don’t let a man into your home alone. They only want one thing.
“As I said, we are closed.” She wished for a moment that she’d brought the mop with her to answer the door.
“Pshh, you’ve got something in there. Just get me some coffee.” The whiskey fumes tickled her nose.
“You have to leave. We are closed.”
“This whole town is a dump. You’re a bum. You’re all bums.” He waved his arms in the air, addressing an imaginary audience. “I won’t be treated this way. I’m an important man. Do you know who I am?”
“No.”
“I’m Gary Barlow.”
Lisa blinked at him, not recognizing the name.
“Gary Barlow? Barlow Industries?”
She shook her head.
He rolled his eyes, weaving slightly as the change in perspective affected his balance. “What a bum. What a dump.”
Lisa backed up a step, thinking again of the mop leaning against the counter in the kitchen. A soft hiss startled Lisa. Mama Cat stood beside her, waving a tail puffed out to twice its size. She hissed again as Barlow lurched forward.
“Mr. Barlow, you need to leave. Now.”
“I just want some coffee.” His face twisted into a sneer as he let loose with a new string of curse words. “They’d never treat me like this in Scottsdale.”
Lisa’s phone vibrated in her pocket. She took another step back and pulled out the phone. She had a text message from Mo. “Almost done, can’t wait to taste-test. Love you.” The reminder of his love stiffened her spine.
“Mr. Barlow, you can leave or I can call the police to escort you off the premises.”
“You’ll call the cops on me for ordering coffee? You’re just like the rest of them. You, Peterman, your fancy-pants mayor—bums, the lot of you.”
Lisa held up her phone and snapped a photo of him, the camera’s flash bright in the dimly lit front hall.
Barlow reared up with a yell, then rushed toward the blinding light. Lisa stumbled backwards, her arms over her head. Mama Cat’s hiss crescendoed to a yowl as Barlow stepped on her tail. The cat swung around, claws extended, and tore into the meat of his calf.
Barlow shouted and kicked at the cat, then hopped on one leg. A ripple in the rug unbalanced him, and he crashed to the floor.
A streak of black and white fur flew past his fallen
form and out the front door. When Lisa had first met Mama Cat, the animal was feral, living in the hay loft of the carriage house. In times of stress, the cat sometimes retreated to her old haunt.
Silence filled the house as Lisa stared at Barlow, laid out on her floor. The March wind gusted in and banged the door wide open, making her jump. Barlow didn’t even twitch at the sound. Dread gripped Lisa’s throat as she knelt beside him to check for a pulse.
When her fingers touched his neck, Barlow spasmed and then spewed vomit on the rug. Lisa recoiled, suppressing the urge to gag in response.
A shadow fell across them.
“That’s not a result of the taste-test, right?” Mo said from the doorway.
Lisa jumped up to hug him.
“You’re ok, right?” Mo said as Lisa snuggled into his shoulder.
“Yeah. But my rug might be a goner.”
“Who is this guy?”
“Gary Barlow.”
Mo waited for her to continue, a quizzical expression painting his handsome features. “Who is Gary Barlow?” he said when she remained silent.
“Honestly, I don’t know. When I heard him on the porch, I thought it was you.”
“You thought this guy was me?”
“He tripped in the dark. That could have been anyone.”
“Are you forgetting my catlike reflexes?”
She winked at him. “Never.”
“That’s good. But I still don’t get why this Gary Barlow is here.”
“Me neither,” Lisa said with a sigh. “He barged in, demanding coffee. He was drunk and abusive, and now he’s devaluing my rug. When I told him to leave, he said everyone in Moss Creek is a bum.”
“Charming fellow,” Mo said, wrinkling his brow. “But as much as he might want to sleep it off here, I doubt you want to keep him overnight. So, what are we going to do with him?”
Lisa pulled out her phone. “I guess I’ll call Toby.”
Mo nodded. “A night in the drunk tank for Mr. Gary Barlow.”
Barlow stirred at this mention of his name. He pushed himself to a seated position, one hand squishing in the soiled spot on the rug. He lifted the offending limb and squinted at it.
“What in the devil is this? What did you do to me?”
“I’m afraid you did that all by yourself,” Lisa said.
Barlow got onto his hands and knees and lumbered to his feet. He stood blinking at them, swaying slightly. He pointed a finger at Lisa. “I’ll sue,” he muttered.
“I should sue you for the price of that rug you’ve ruined,” Lisa snapped. “Now get out before I call the police.”
Mo put up a hand. “Where are you staying?”
Barlow snorted. “What business is that of yours?”
“I can’t let you drive in this condition.”
Lisa’s eyes widened as she realized she could have let the drunkard get behind the wheel. “Are you at the Lucky Horseshoe?” Moss Creek’s only motel was on the other side of town.
“Are you corporate spies? Get away from me, both of you!” Barlow stormed outside and slammed the front door.
Lisa and Mo went to the window and watched as he stomped across the lawn, seeming to take special care to tread on patches of newly blooming crocuses as he went. They followed his progress from the Folly, where Lisa’s Last Chance Café was housed, across the town square and into Nero’s. Lisa’s shoulders relaxed, knowing the streets were safe from Gary Barlow. Nero was known to fill wayward drunks with bread to soak up some of the alcohol before packing them into a cab to be taken home.
Mo stroked a finger down Lisa’s cheek and pushed a strand of blond hair behind her ear. “Now, I believe I have some very important taste-testing to do.”
*
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About the author
Estelle Richards writes cozy mysteries and makes her home in the beautiful high desert of the American Southwest. The Lisa Chance Cozy Mystery series is her first series.
Shooting on Location (Lisa Chance Cozy Mysteries Book 2) Page 20
