A Shade of Murder

by Constance Barker

  A Shade of Murder

  by

  Constance Barker

  Copyright 2018 Constance Barker

  All rights reserved.

  Similarities to real people, places or events are purely coincidental.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Chapter One

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  Chapter One

  A sunny day in Stillwater set the scene perfectly, as the entirety of the small town prepared for the world renowned Civil War reenactment in one of the few battlefields that hadn’t been lost to the ages. Settled just behind the town’s Civil War Museum, everyone was doing their part to see things fell into place. There were an abundance of good vibes as the volunteers busied themselves in the field, cheerfully helping each other with any task that may have required an extra set of hands. The traditional garb from the era was absent, at least for now; it wouldn’t do to have the costumes covered in mud and muck before the reenactment even had the chance to start. The moonshiner’s son, Jimmy Jack, had long since shed his shirt as he helped some of the other volunteers move the authentic cannons into their proper spot on the field. It was no secret that some of the women were somewhat distracted by the sight of the young man’s perfectly toned body—even the museum workers weren’t impervious; well, at least one of them. It was pretty well known that the town’s newest inhabitant had a bit of a preoccupation with the younger moonshiner, but Becky would never work up the nerve to act on her blooming feelings. She would remain ever oblivious to the occasional glance in her direction from the very object of her fledgling affection.

  It seemed all was well in the battlefield, at least, on the surface. If one delved a little deeper, you would find one particularly surly feline, and a restless spirit who seemed especially troubled on that day. The cat sat beside the spirit with a sour expression, watching as the volunteers all bumbled around the field. She sighed, glancing up at the man who knew more about the war than any of the living. Colonel Augustus Monroe fidgeted uncontrollably, his eyes narrowed in clear disdain. Occasionally, a huff of displeasure would escape him, and the feline’s lips would curl in a faint smile.

  “At least I’m not the only one who sees the foolishness of this whole charade. How Little Timmy and Mary Jane enjoy this mockery is beyond me. My God, cat! The boy is running around with his shirt off. It’s a good way to take a bullet to the chest if you ask me,” the Colonel grumbled, arms crossed over his chest. The cat in question hummed in a very uncatlike fashion, sinking her claws into the dirt.

  “Do you know how difficult it is to protect one’s territory when there are dozens of idiots strewn out across the battlefield? The mice are laughing at me, I’m sure of it. This ridiculous spectacle takes place every year...you’d think people would be tired of it by now,” Moody said, predictably, rather moodily. The Colonel grumbled, glancing in the direction his eternal paramour had flitted off to. He could see the former ghost army nurse fussing around with the tents that were being set up—she had assured him that she only wanted things to be as authentic as possible, but he had his doubts. Honestly, he felt more like she just enjoyed all the activity in what was usually a grim place. But if there were a place that warranted a grim sensation, it was a battlefield where hundreds had lost their lives; where these spirits remained without the desire to move on as the other soldiers had.

  “I simply do not understand the appeal of something so silly. How do people enjoy watching a reenactment of an event that claimed the lives of so many?” The Colonel intoned a bit dramatically, and the feline hummed once more, seeming to not know how to respond. After a long pause, during which the feline idly groomed herself, she peered in the distance where a bit of shouting could be heard. People speaking in excessive volume was more or less the norm when it came to the Stillwater Civil War reenactment, but such shouting was usually filled with jubilation and delight. The angry curses that came from the far end of the field were unfamiliar—even to the companions who hated the whole spectacle. Moody glanced towards the ghost of the Colonel, looking mildly mischievous. Augustus crossed his arms, tilting his head with a faint smile. “You’re thinking of something interesting, cat, I can tell from the look in your eye. I couldn’t bear to let you have all the fun, especially should it be at the expense of one of these loonies,” he smiled. Moody stretched her chubby form, taking a Moment to knead the dirt before seeming satisfied that it was a task well accomplished.

  “Billie Jean and Norma are fighting again. You know how insufferable the two have been since Norma found out her brother was coming out to see her...,” the feline paused, laughing a bit haughtily. “Well, since he came to see her perform. Her words, not mine. To perform indicates some sort of talent, doesn’t it? Talent and Norma don’t belong in the same tirade, let alone the same sentence,” Moody chuckled, striding at an easy pace towards the replica nurse’s tent, where the bickering usually seemed to take place. Augustus floated quietly behind her, seeming a bit pensive and almost concerned at the look of fear on his beloved Mary Jane’s face. He passed the overweight feline in short order, falling into place beside the woman he planned to spend his afterlife with. Mary Jane herself wrung her hands, watching as the two women who had been competing to play the field nurse for the duration of the reenactment argued furiously. Moody made no move to speed up, already able to hear the discussion with her superior hearing.

  “You know how much this means to me, Billie Jean! This is one of the biggest parts in the whole dang shebang. Do you know how proud my brother would be, watching his sister play one of the lead roles in the Stillwater Civil War Reenactment? He’d be downright thrilled,” Norma insisted heatedly, poking the other woman square in the chest. Billie Jean rolled her eyes, looking as if she’d had the conversation a hundred times over already. Knowing how Norma Pratt could be, that wasn’t likely to be too far from the truth.

  “I don’t choose the roles, Norma. I’ve been playing the field nurse since I was old enough to pull it off, and you know how the folks of our little town feel about change. Hell, Becky seemed ready to flip her lid when it came out that Jimmy Jack was a shoe in for the role of the Colonel, and we have no choice but to replace him. The only two ways to get out of these roles is to move away or flat out die,” Billie Jean explained, sounding a bit resigned. Before Norma could open her mouth, the other woman interjected, “And I have no plans of leaving Stillwater. So unless you decide this whole situation is worth putting another woman in the ground, I’m afraid I can’t help you,” she drawled, crossing her arms. A small crowd was gathering around the two bickering women, and Moody spotted Fern lingering towards the back of the crowd with a dour expression. The feline weaved through the feet of those gathered to watch the bickering, making an effort to sneakily hop up on Fern’s shoulder. Instead, her claws caught the flesh of Fern’s back, and the detective visibly cringed before shifting to help her feline friend settle into place.

  “Fern, I didn’t expect to see you here. Mazie, I could understand, but you’re usually not interested in this whole charade,” Moody mused, and Fern hesitated for a Moment before slipping awa
y from the crowd to speak in private with the psychic cat.

  “Well, it is held at the Museum every year, and Mazie’s been pestering me to come. God love her, but that sister of mine can be a right brat,” Fern bemoaned, reaching into her pocket and digging around for a Moment. Moody sat quietly on her favored master’s shoulder, watching as the fighting seemed to somehow escalate. Before the feline could properly hone in on the conversation, a liver treat was placed in front of her nose. Moody began purring immediately, gently taking the treat from Fern’s hand and sloppily gobbling it up. If the detective was troubled by the livery gunk falling on her jacket, she gave no real indication. She simply reached up to stroke the cat’s head, striding back to where the crowd had gathered. She noticed that all three of the battlefield’s lingering spirits were watching the spectacle with wide eyes, and the Colonel had covered Mary Jane’s ears as if to protect her from some foul language. Again, knowing Norma, that was to be expected.

  “And for another thing, I fail to see how this is supposed to impress your brother. As far as every time I’ve met him, he’s been nothing but a surly hard ass. We can’t even get him to try Fang’s famous moonshine, and that’s one of the biggest draws of this little town,” Billie Jean said carefully, trying to defuse the situation. Norma laughed haughtily, poking Billie Jean in the chest again. Both Fern and Moody mused that they would have long since resolved this situation, although the feline’s method would have been distinctly more violent.

  “Do you think Philip would really be satisfied knowing his sister got socked away in some backup role? Especially with his visit common knowledge at this point. He’d think I was a right fool, and I am not going to disappoint my little brother. He hardly gets any time away from the office, and just because he’s not a drunkard like the rest of this town doesn’t mean he won’t enjoy seeing my name in lights,” Norma harrumphed, frowning when Billie Jean began to laugh in her face. In the other woman’s defense, she wasn’t alone in her amusement. Half of the crowd had begun to chuckle softly, as if they were all in on some big joke that Norma wasn’t quite privy to.

  “If by your name in lights, you mean scribbled on a piece of garishly colored poster board with a black permanent marker, then I guess I see your point. Either way, Norma, it isn’t up to me. I already explained as much as I can. If you wanna take it up with management, be my guest,” Billie Jean sighed, seemingly ready to dismiss the subject altogether. She turned her back on Norma, moving to slip away from the crowd. Before she could get far, however, the argumentative woman grabbed her harshly by the wrist, pulling her back. What Norma clearly didn’t expect was for Billie Jean to wheel around and slap her silly. Heck, no one in the crowd seemed prepared for that. Norma sputtered angrily for a Moment, and the feline reeled in a snort of amusement as Billie Jean stared coldly at the other museum volunteer.

  “You... you slapped me,” Norma pointed out, as if the crowd gathered around them had somehow been blind to the fact. She probably hoped they were somehow unnaturally blinded by the sun or something when Billie Jean’s hand collided with her cheek—oh, the indignity.

  “Oh, we’re stating the obvious? You don’t know how to leave well enough alone, Norma. I didn’t want to say it, but apparently you’re too dumb to realize it. Your brother doesn’t care about your role in the reenactment. You’re just a convenient excuse to slip away from the office for a week or so. He won’t notice if you’re not even part of the whole thing. Now you stop pestering me and let me get back to work on the field. Like I said, if you got a problem, take it up with management. I’m done with this conversation,” Billie Jean said with an air of finality, turning away once more, and striding across the battlefield.

  “This isn’t over, you dang hussy! I’m gonna get that role if I have to go through this whole crowd to get someone on my side. Maybe I will talk to the higher ups. ... Who are the higher ups, in this particular situation,” Norma trailed off, looking to Fern for guidance. The detective rolled her eyes, folding her arms over her chest as the cranky older woman stared pleadingly at her.

  “Well, I’m certainly not in charge of this train wreck of a performance. If you have an issue, I’m sure my sister is somewhere to be found on this field. Mazie’s in charge of choosing the cast this year,” Fern grumbled, though she seemed to regret the words as soon as they left her mouth. Moody groaned, unable to believe how far the detective had shoved her own foot in her mouth. She clearly made an effort to backpedal, holding her hands up as if to ward off evil spirits. Not that evil spirits were an altogether unfamiliar part of her life, but just the same, she’d rather deal with the Devil himself than surrender her poor sister to this tyrant of a woman for any span of time.

  “Mazie’s in charge, huh?” Norma mused, glancing in the direction Billie Jean had gone. “You just wait, you dang old swamp rat. I’m going to talk to Mazie and everything will be sorted straight out,” the petulant woman called out after her competition. For all intents and purposes, however, it seemed that Billie Jean had moved on from the fight. Who could blame her really?

  “Did someone shout for me?” Mazie asked innocently as she trudged up to the scene, not remotely pleased by the looks she was receiving from Norma and her sister. “Oh boy.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  Although dealing with Norma Pratt hadn’t been on my priority list that day, there she stood in all her glory, fully prepared to tear me a new one for reasons I had yet to discern. I glared at Fern, who held her hands up in a placating motion.

  “Mazie, you and I need to have a heart to heart,” Norma said in saccharine sweet tones, and I knew my day had essentially been flushed down the drain. I smiled as politely as I could manage, in spite of the full fledged tantrum taking place in my brain. Of all the people I could spend my day with Norma was the least appealing. I’d rather spend the day with Fang, staring silently at each other as we sipped some of his best hooch. Just the same, when I’d agreed to take charge of this whole spectacle, I should have expected a few roadblocks. I just didn’t expect them to be so dang sour looking. Finding or replacing lost supplies at the last minute was more up to speed for me, but when duty rang, I had no choice but to answer its call.

  “Alright, Norma. Why don’t we go on into the museum and talk this over. I can’t guarantee we’ll come to a resolution you’re one hundred percent happy with, but I’m sure we’ll figure something out,” I managed with as much cheer as I could muster. Norma looked all too pleased with herself, and although I expected Fern to duck out, she remained at my side as I led Norma back to the museum itself. I glanced towards my fiery haired sister who looked nothing short of apologetic, and I knew there was no way in hell I could blame her at that point. Norma jabbered on as she trailed behind me, though I paid little mind to what she was going on about. As we entered the museum, I swallowed my pride and turned to face the dour woman. She looked unexpectedly cheerful, though I suppose she was expecting me to go along with her desires at that point. That wasn’t going to happen, though I took no joy in the fact that I’d have to tell Norma she wasn’t getting exactly what she wanted. I knew how ornery the woman could be, probably better than most in the town of Stillwater. Still I had to get her to stop her fussing with Billie Jean, or this reenactment wasn’t going to get very far.

  “Alright, Mazie, about that nurse role—,” Norma began, her voice dripping with syrupy sweetness. I fought the desire to cringe, but Fern seemed to have no qualms expressing her dislike, arms folded across her chest.

  “Norma, you know Billie Jean is right. These roles don’t just change at the drop of a hat. There are traditions that most folks won’t want broken. I can’t give you the head nurse role, just because your brother is going to be in town. The best I can do is arrange some free passes for the event,” I said calmly, knowing that I was about to be screamed at for a solid twenty minutes—at the least. Norma narrowed her eyes, and as much as I wanted to scoff, I made an effort to remain professional.

  “Free passes? What good
is that if I’m not even one of the lead roles? You know how much this means to me. You all know how much this means to me,” the older woman ranted, hands tightening into fists at her sides. I frowned, glancing towards Fern who looked prepared to come to blows in a worst case scenario.

  “That’s all I can do, Norma. Until Billie Jean meets her maker or moves out of Stillwater, you’re out of luck,” I said with an air of finality. The woman looked as if she would want to press the issue, but instead turned her back on us and marched out the door.

  “Well, that wasn’t melodramatic at all,” Fern muttered with a roll of her eyes.

  “You know how folks can be about this reenactment. It is the biggest event that the town puts together,” I pointed out, but Fern only snorted.

  “Compared to what? The Apple Cider Festival? At least there you can get some hooch. I’m sorry, but this whole bit of drama seems entirely unnecessary—,” my dear sister began, but before she could finish her thought, my cell phone began to ring. That was a bit strange, considering the only people I would expect to call me were out on the battlefield at that very Moment-—or in Fern’s case, at my side. I answered the call without much thought, though my heart plummeted into the depths of my guts as I recognized the voice on the other line.

  “Mazie! Mazie, honey! It’s me, your Mom. George and I are coming into town to see the reenactment. Isn’t that exciting,” my mother crooned, sounding entirely too thrilled considering the situation. I cringed a bit at the idea of having to deal with her boyfriend again, especially considering his typically cold behavior when it came to my place of work. Though my Mom could be a bit silly, she had a big heart. She was just so concerned when it came to the happenings of mine and Fern’s lives, she could get to be... rather controlling. It was why we’d moved to Stillwater in the first place, besides the town having history of a witch coven.