Murder at the Moonshine Inn

by Maggie King

  Vince and Dave carried platters of burgers and chicken in from the patio. Everyone crowded into the dining room and piled grilled meat, deviled eggs, lunch meats, tomatoes, bread, salad and fruit on their plates. With Olive out rounding up the neighborhood rodents and Morris giving this many people a wide berth, we didn’t have to worry about felines stealing our food.

  By now my guests knew of my harrowing but thankfully brief time as a prisoner in Patty and Paul’s stifling storage unit. But they still clamored for details. With the help of the book group members and others, I covered every detail from meeting Nina at Panera to my shocking ordeal at the hands of my cousins.

  Patty and Paul were safely locked up at the Richmond jail, due to be arraigned the next day. Their combined charges included first-degree murder, aiding and abetting, assault, and kidnapping.

  The police found boxes of kitchen items in the van, including a knife with traces of blood in the hilt. The DNA results would take a while but Patty and Paul’s confessions would suffice in the meantime. Had Patty used that knife to prepare those delicious lunches she’d served me? It didn’t bear further thought. In the storage unit they turned up wigs, women’s clothing, stage makeup, and cartons of books.

  “It’s surprising that Rox hadn’t found the old will herself,” Lucy said.

  “Yeah, with her passion for money you’d think she’d have gone through those books hoping to find money, and lots of it,” Eileen said.

  “Do you think even if Patty had gotten all those millions from Marcie that she would have left Paul?” Trudy asked.

  I shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

  Tammy had been remarkably quiet until now, but now she piped up. “Hazel, why did you go to the storage unit by yourself?”

  “I thought Patty and Paul were okay. We all did. I thought they might have a copy of the will, but also thought they probably didn’t know they had it. After all, Patty once told me she’d read all those classics. It didn’t occur to me that she’d go through them on a treasure hunt.”

  “But being as they were so hard up for cash that’s exactly what she did,” Lucy said.

  “Patty once told me she found an uncashed check for a thousand dollars in the pages of one of Marcie’s books. Now I’m pretty sure she was referring to the books she got from Marcie, and that she had found the former will as well as the check.”

  “When did it all come together?” Mary Anne asked.

  “It was all so gradual. So many of you helped in such big ways.” I looked around the dining room and named the book group members as well as Kat, Tammy, Mary Anne, and Vince, crediting them for their contributions to the unraveling of this mystery.

  “And of course, Jake, who rescued me from sure heat prostration.” Jake took a bow.

  “But things started coming together when I got a copy of Marcie’s will. And that’s my biggest regret, not looking at her will earlier. And then the other day when I saw the car, the Camry, more pieces fell into place.”

  “Hazel, what made you look at the license plate?” Den Rubottom asked. Sarah had brought her paraplegic husband with her and I could tell she regretted the decision. The flirtatious Den was given to sitting in his wheelchair and openly ogling women. He cast an appreciative look at my chest as he added, “You said the car was covered.”

  “I don’t know. Something about the shape of the car. I thought of the car I saw on Paul’s website. As to what made me look at the license plate, I can’t say.”

  “Women’s intuition?” Jake offered with an arch tone as he tossed back his straggly mane. Sarah, standing behind him, executed a quick two-step back and dropped a chicken leg on the floor.

  I laughed. “Some family, huh?”

  “Well, Brad is family and at least he’s off the hook,” Lucy said. “As is Andy.”

  “And Foster, Phyllis, and Evangeline are off the hook—”

  “Evangeline!” I broke off Trudy’s rundown of ex-suspects. “What time is it?”

  Vince checked his watch. “Six twenty-eight.”

  “I’m supposed to be at Italian Delight right now. I promised to meet Evangeline and sign some books for her.”

  “It’s not that far,” Tammy said. “Call and tell her you’ll be late.”

  “I’ll text her. See you later, I won’t be long.”

  I grabbed my purse (retrieved with all its contents from the police) and reached for the doorknob.

  “Brad!”

  Brad Jones stood on my doorstep, a bouquet of colorful flowers in hand. He wore shorts and a polo shirt. Lucy took the flowers and went to look for a vase while Vince introduced Brad to the assembled.

  “Brad, I’ll be back in about forty-five minutes. Help yourself to some food.” I swept my arm to indicate the table.

  “Thanks,” Brad said. He walked to the door with me. “And thanks for solving these murders. I still can’t believe that Patty and Paul were behind them.”

  “Yes, well . . .” I trailed off. What could I say?

  I looked at Brad. That day at his office I’d doubted the sincerity of his apology. But now I felt that he genuinely wanted to change. Maybe this whole experience had taught him something. I still didn’t have an answer about Veronica and how she’d drowned. I probably never would. I resolved to give my cousin the benefit of the doubt.

  “I’d like to meet your sister,” he said. “Ruth is her name?”

  “Yes, Ruth. I’m sure she’d love to meet you. After all, we’re family.”

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I am immensely grateful to the following:

  John Koehler, Joe Coccaro, and their team at Koehler Books. Thank you for your suggestions which made this a better book.

  Mel Berger, for your wise counsel.

  The City of Richmond Citizens Police Academy. The program introduced me to many wonderful people and I learned much that helped me in my writing. And my life.

  City of Richmond Circuit Court, for your assistance with my research.

  Rhonda Keyes Pleasants, mortician at the Joseph Jenkins Jr. Funeral Home, for helping me depict an emotional funeral scene.

  Marie Molnar, my “redneck consultant.” Your advice was invaluable.

  Author Pat McDonald. We shared cyberspace laughs over my questions about British slang. Thanks for assuring me that I was up-to-date on the lingo.

  Glen King, Evette Lamka, and Marcia Phillips. I’m a better writer thanks to your sharp eyes and suggestions.

  Justin Lineberry and Maria Scott, for brainstorming with me on a title. You came up with a great one.

  Heather Weidner and Rosemary Shomaker for Skyping with me.

  Sisters in Crime, James River Writers, and American Association of University Women. Your support and camaraderie inspires me.

  The Virginia is for Mysteries authors. Thanks for the friendship, road trips, and all your hard work.

  Glen King (again!), my “research assistant” in various redneck bars. It was quite an adventure.

  Olive, Morris, Daisy, and Shammy. You’re great cats on and off the page.

  Book groups everywhere, especially the AAUW mystery group of Santa Clarita, California, the model for Hazel Rose’s book group.

  My readers, for your encouragement and enthusiasm.