Murder of Convenience

by Carrie Marsh

  She felt a deep contentment and a gratitude for her own dear family, just then, and reached across wordlessly to squeeze Harry's hand. She was not sorry to have put a man behind bars – the trial had happened a few months before and the doctor had been convicted of both counts – and she was especially not sorry to have helped two such wonderful people. Not sorry to have helped a child to find peace and stability when her world had been wrecked. It was a blessing to have seen the little family so happy, and she cherished the memory. As her mother had always said, spreading happiness was the most worthwhile thing. Marcie firmly believed in that.

  “All's well that ends well,” he said, echoing her thoughts without trying. “Well done, my dear.”

  Marcie smiled at him and took his hand, which stroked hers gently, in both of his.

  “I wasn't alone, dear,” she said quietly.

  “Well, maybe just a little,” Harry conceded, leaning in as she leaned up. They kissed.

  All's well that ends well, Marcie thought as they sat together, hand in hand, and watched as their guests departed, skipping and laughing and the sun slowly sank in gold and inky-blue on the horizon. I couldn't have said it better.

  THANK YOU

  for reading my book and

  I hope you have enjoyed this story as well.

  “BOOK 1 - THE DEADLY JELLYBEAN AFFAIR” is a standalone story.

  If you have enjoyed reading “Book 1 - Murder of Convenience” so far, I believe you will be interested in checking out “Book 1 - The Deadly Jellybean Affair”.

  This book will be focusing on a middle-aged retired witch on her mysterious adventures in Morhollow Village.

  A Retired Witch… A Cruel Murder… Can a few old tricks solve a crime?

  Left a very comfortable widow after her dear husband passed, Mary Tuttle has many abilities, some of which have allowed her to open the doors to her dreams, a bead shop by the name of Beads and Baubles.

  But when she stumbles across the body of a dead Morhollow party-girl, Mary discovers that there are much deeper secrets behind the attack of her newly hired employee, who was beaten, bruised, and hidden just out of plain sight. There is no questioning the fact that Mary is compelled to solve the case and find the killer…

  But she will need to return to her roots to do it.

  Faced with the realization she will have to dust off her spell books, consult with her domestic cat, and be sure to steer clear of the police investigation, Mary knows she will have to play things carefully to find out the truth.But she will need to return to her roots to do it.

  Of course, it would be a lot simpler if the Captain of the Morhollow Police Department didn’t happen to be her son.

  Can Mary narrow down the long list of suspects before giving herself away?

  Or will she take one too many risks and place herself in the sights of a killer?

  With plot twists, turns coupled with interesting characters that you will sure love.

  I have enclosed a preview of “The Deadly Jellybean Affair”.

  Check it out below…

  It is currently at $0.99.

  CLICK HERE TO GET IT NOW

  CHAPTER ONE

  BIRDWATCHING

  “Well, I don’t know why she’d wear a dress like that,” Mary Tuttle huffed as she brought her right wrist up almost to her chin while swinging her left fist far behind her.

  “I’ll tell you why she did,” Grace Deitz scolded. “Because she’s a tramp.” Her strides matched Mary’s as they made their way down the jogging/bicycle path that wove through Piltcher Park.

  Mary and Grace enjoyed their daily gossip session among the trees and birds every morning. Grace, who had a love affair with leopard print and never set foot outside her home without a full face of makeup, including drawn-on eyebrows and bright red lips, was fit to be tied over the outfit Mrs. Velma Henried had worn the night before.

  “Grace, Velma has got to be at least ten years older than me, and that would put her near sixty-seven years old,” Mary argued. “Does the term tramp even apply at that age and after three husbands?” Mary tapped her sunglasses up her nose as they picked up their pace to ascend the slight bump called Poe’s Hill.

  “In Velma Henried’s case it does apply. You don’t wear sequins to a funeral even if they are black. Call me old fashioned. You just don’t do it.” Grace shook her head. “You know how many widowers there were at that funeral home? I’m completely on to her.”

  “I’m sorry I left early,” Mary sighed. “I thought I had seen it all when the recently deceased’s brother, Hal, brought in four cases of White Castles. The last thing I wanted to be around was a bunch of mourners with “sliders” passing through their lower intestines.”

  Grace burst out laughing, making Mary smile. They settled down for a moment and took a few deep breaths. The sun was shining just over the tree line, bringing a bright blue morning sky with it. When the ladies had first left their front porches to make the journey to the walking path, they could see their breath as they spoke but not anymore. It had warmed a good bit as they went over the details of the passing of one of Morhollow’s most beloved citizens, Hank Jewels. Actually, Hank wasn’t beloved; he was just the mayor of Morhollow up until he was eighty-nine years old, running unopposed for all those years.

  “Well, I’m sure Hank was looking down at the whole wake and thinking… why the heck is Velma Henried wearing sequins? And where is Mary Tuttle going without taking one White Castle burger to make my brother Hal feel better?”

  “Yes, I’m sure that is what he’s thinking.” Mary rolled her eyes.

  “So, I’ve wasted enough time distracting you from the inevitable tomorrow. Tell me.” Grace gently elbowed her friend. “Are you excited?”

  Mary smiled but wasn’t sure how to answer her friend’s question.

  “I’m very nervous. What if I’ve made a mistake?”

  “Nonsense.” Grace clicked her tongue. “Your husband, Ward, God rest his soul, left you that money so you can live your life. How many years have we known each other and you always talked about owning a little shop to sell beads and have classes for beginners and all that artsy crafty stuff?”

  “You and I have been around the block, I’ll say that.” Mary’s voice was dry.

  “Right?” Grace pulled the visor of her leopard-spotted baseball cap down slightly. “I have a feeling about this. Trust me when I tell you Beads and Baubles will be a huge success. You couldn’t have picked a better location.”

  “You mean, right next to that sinful bakery that has the most delicious chocolate éclairs on the planet? The place owned by that weird couple named Deitz with their weird children?”

  Grace started to laugh and hugged Mary around the shoulder affectionately.

  “With all the art festivals and creative types in Morhollow, I’m surprised there hasn’t been any…” Grace gasped and pointed. “Stop!” She pointed into a high branch of a lace bark pine tree.

  Mary froze and looked where Grace was pointing while Grace slowly retrieved miniature binoculars from her jacket pocket.

  “A golden-fronted woodpecker. Isn’t he beautiful?” Grace gushed and then handed the binoculars over to Mary, who removed her sunglasses, squinted and looked in the direction she had just seen Grace look.

  “He is a beaut. Do you normally see these this time of year?” Mary had very little knowledge about the bird population in Morhollow, Vermont but Grace, on the other hand, was an avid bird-watcher. Her backyard was an obstacle course of standing and floating birdhouses and feeders that attracted all kinds of feathery visitors.

  “Yes.” Grace pulled out a small journal from her sweat suit pocket and began to write the day and time of the golden-fronted woodpecker spotting. “In fact, this is the time you usually see them the most, except that they have a tendency to blend in with the fall colors so they can easily be missed.”

  “He is pretty.” Mary handed back the binoculars. With as much stealth as a great white shark, Grace inched
her way closer to the tree the bird perched upon. Moving in a heel-to-toe-heel-to-toe fashion, she barely disturbed the leaves and dried branches that covered the ground while she kept her prize in sight.

  “I’m going to try and get a picture,” Grace whispered loudly, withdrawing a cell phone from her other pocket. Mary watched with all the patience in the world. Unlike her friend, Mary was always forgetting her phone or losing her house keys. She rarely drove so her car keys were often left on the hook by her front door even as she’d be leaving to go drive somewhere. But Grace had picked up something taking her three boys to Boy Scouts all those years as they were growing up. Always be prepared.

  Within seconds of pointing the phone, Grace had gotten the picture.

  “Oh, this is great.” Grace looked at the picture. Looking up, she observed the bird a little longer before it decided it had had enough of the paparazzi and flew away. “Can you believe our luck?” Grace asked and then stopped.

  Mary watched Grace as she peered into the foliage at the bottom of the tree.

  “Do you see something else?” Mary asked, carefully coming to her friend’s side.

  “What is that?” Grace pointed. “Is that a mannequin?”

  Mary saw the bone-white object laying at the foot of an oak about twenty yards from the path. It did indeed look like a mannequin arm and torso.

  “Who would lug that thing all the way out here to dump it in the park?” Grace shook her head. “If you’re going to litter, do it off the highway like normal people. Don’t make a special trip to the park. Jeez.”

  “I don’t think that is a mannequin.” Mary’s words felt like they weighed twenty pounds rolling off her tongue.

  Grace looked again. Before she could say another word, Mary was warily walking toward the form.

  “Bring me your binoculars,” Mary called to Grace, who nodded and walked almost in Mary’s exact steps to get to her. Taking the binoculars, she raised them to her eyes and adjusted the focus. “Oh, Lord.” She huffed. “That isn’t a mannequin at all.”

  “What is it?” Grace mumbled, not sure she really wanted to hear what her friend was going to say.

  “That’s Summer Moran.” Mary lowered the binoculars and stared in the body’s direction.

  “Summer Moran? From town?” Grace raised the binoculars to her own eyes and tried to see the face. “How can you tell? I can’t see a face. She’s turned in the other way.”

  “There is a tattoo on that arm.” Mary pointed. “I’d recognize that tacky thing anywhere.” She took several smaller steps closer.

  “I’ve seen Summer in town but I never noticed any tattoos.” Grace shook her head. “But then again I never paid much attention to her or anyone in their twenties. My gosh, what do you think happened?”

  “I don’t know,” Mary whispered. Looking over her head, she noticed a branch from another tree draped like a canopy directly over the body. “Give me one second.”

  Mary walked over to the trunk of the tree about six feet away from the body. Without saying a word, she climbed into the “V” where the trunk split in two and carefully scooted herself down the thick branch that hovered over Summer Moran.

  With binoculars still in her hand, she raised them to her eyes and looked over the body.

  “Mary Tuttle. I say this with nothing but love but you are too old to be climbing trees,” Grace harassed her. “What do you see?”

  “Not much. She’s mostly covered with branches and stuff. I don’t think it was a robbery or anything like that.”

  “Why?”

  “She’s got a gold bracelet on. I’d think they’d have taken that if they were after valuables.” Mary lowered the binoculars and sat in the tree. “Well, this isn’t a good sign. Not a good sign at all.”

  “No kidding, Sherlock. You figure that out on your own?” Grace rubbed her arms.

  “I’m getting freaked out. Let’s get out of here and call the cops from town.”

  “We can’t do that. Call Andrew. Tell him we’ll wait for him.”

  Grace’s eyes popped open.

  “Are you sure you want me to tell him we’ll wait?”

  “I’m not afraid of my own son. Even if he is a captain at the Morhollow Police Department.”

  “That isn’t what I meant.” Grace shifted from one foot to another as she pulled her phone from her pocket again. “I’m saying I don’t really like the idea of loitering around a dead body.”

  “What are you talking about?” Mary chuckled while she shifted over an inch at a time back the way she had come along the thick branch. Without much difficulty, she positioned herself back in the nook of the tree, pointed her right toe as far to the ground as she could, and managed to hop down. “You spent half last night at Hank Jewels funeral.”

  “Hello? Andrew Tuttle, please. It’s Grace Deitz. I’m with his mother. She’s fine but the dead body we found isn’t.” Grace arched her right drawn-on eyebrow and pursed her lips. “Hank Jewel is totally different. He died peacefully in his sleep.”

  Mary extended her hand as she stomped back to the walking path to take the phone from Grace so she could speak directly to her son.

  “But they’re both dead?” she asked as she took the phone and held it up to her ear.

  “Yes, but the Hank Jewel kind of death is over and done.” Mary waved her hand in the pale body’s direction. “The Summer Moran kind leads to hauntings. You don’t think we’ll be able to walk this route anymore, do you? Who knows what kind of bad mojo we’ve picked up already?”

  “Mojo?” Mary squinted at her friend.

  “Bad luck. You know. Mojo.” Grace rolled her eyes.

  Taking a deep breath, Mary looked in the direction of the body and a shadow fell over her face.

  “You might actually be right,” Mary sighed.

  “Why do you say that?”

  “I had actually hired Summer to come and work at the store. She was supposed to start tomorrow.”

  Grace raised her right hand to her lips. “What? My gosh. Why didn’t you say anything?”

  Mary shrugged. “She came in about two weeks ago while I was counting inventory and waiting for the finishing touches to be added by the carpenters and stuff.”

  “You knew who she was, though?” Grace placed her hand on her friend’s arm. “You knew her reputation.”

  Mary nodded. “The tacky tattoo. The bleached hair. All of it. Yeah, I knew. But Ward would have given her a chance. You know how he was. And since it was because of him I could have my dream, I thought maybe I could help someone else while helping myself.”

  “Mary. I’m sorry.” Grace patted her friend’s back and stood close by her.

  “Hi, honey.” Mary said into the phone. “No, Grace hasn’t been drinking again. Look. We’ve got a situation here in Piltcher Park just past Poe’s Hill. You need to get up here.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  FAMILIAR FACES

  “Mom. Can you please talk to Officer Higgs? You remember Tom Higgs, right?” Andrew pointed to a stout officer in blue jeans and a brown shirt with a holster hanging from his belt. At the moment, Officer Higgs was getting Grace’s statement, which looked to be more like a confession than a statement of what happened.

  “Of course, I’ll talk to him, honey. I’m here to help. I’m just asking, that’s all.”

  Mary gently touched her son’s strong arm. He towered over her by a foot. He had gotten his height from his father. “Do you think it’s a serial killer?”

  “You’re being nosey is what you meant to say.” Andrew watched as Katie Philips tenderly pushed aside the brush and foliage all around the body with plastic gloved hands. “Did you or Grace touch the body?” he asked, narrowing his eyes at his mother as if he were ready to not believe her.

  “Ew, gross. No. Certainly not.” Mary shook her head. “I climbed up in that tree to get a better look. See?” She pointed to the branch hanging over the body. “Birds’ eye view.”

  “Mom, you could have fallen and broke
n your neck.” Andrew looked wide-eyed at his mother.

  “Please, Andrew. I’ve been climbing trees for a lot longer than you’ve been wearing that badge, there.” She tapped the shiny medallion on his left shirt pocket. “And I didn’t disturb the crime scene at all.” She smiled up at her son proudly.

  “Thanks.” Andrew shifted from one Timberland boot to the other. “Now, if you could let us finish up here. Give your statement to Tom and go on home.”

  “When is Edgar going to get here?”

  Edgar Lomont was the crime scene photographer and also the only professional photographer in Morhollow. He owned a lovely little studio that was a block down the street from what after tomorrow would be Mary’s new store. He had photographed just about everyone in town for baptisms, weddings, graduations as well as the mug shots for the routine drunk and disorderly.

  Being drunk and noisy after twelve o’clock at night was the most serious offense recorded in Morhollow up until now.

  “Edgar has been called. He’ll be here when he gets here.” Andrew sighed. “Hey, Katie. Bag that cigarette butt by the back right leg, too.”

  “Yes, sir,” Katie replied, shaking another clear baggie from her pocket She delicately picked up the white cylinder and dropped it in, sealing it tight.

  “Well, I just thought that since Grace has her cell phone that you could save yourself a little time and have her take a couple pictures. You know, to help out.” Mary looked hopefully up at her son.

  “Mom, your morbid curiosity has me worried.”

  “Son, don’t be silly.” She waved her hand as if she were shooing a fly.