by Sarah Hualde
Death by Donation
Honey Pot Mysteries, Volume 4
Sarah Hualde
Published by Indie Christian Writers, 2019.
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
DEATH BY DONATION
First edition. December 17, 2019.
Copyright © 2019 Sarah Hualde.
ISBN: 978-1393338130
Written by Sarah Hualde.
Also by Sarah Hualde
Honey Pot Mysteries
Missing on Main Street
Lethal in Lavender
Farmers Market Fatality
Death by Donation (Coming Soon)
Standalone
Diary of a Dyslexic Homeschooler
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Also By Sarah Hualde
Death by Donation (Honey Pot Mysteries, #4)
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Further Reading: Missing on Main Street
About the Author
To My Mece: Some grandmothers teach their granddaughters how to knit -
mine taught me how to
always leave evidence.
Love you, Mece!
Chapter 1
Jim stared at his name fingered on the foggy bathroom mirror. He hadn’t written it in years. With a heavy breath, he used a damp hotel towel to smear it away. The faint scent of chlorine and soap shot back at him as he grimaced at his reflection. His doctor called his troubles, “night terrors” due to sleep apnea. Jim knew better. He knew it was memories plaguing his restless nights. It wasn’t unusual for him to shower two to three times between midnight and four a.m. He scoured his skin with course, over bleached washrags and hoped the water stayed hot. The steam soothed his muscles, if not his mind.
The bathroom wall shook, as an overnight guest pounded on it. “Hey! Get some sleep,” the garbled voice commanded from room 39B. Jim chucked the hand towel at the wall and hollered back adding venomous curses and threats. The voice didn’t respond.
Jim trudged from the tiny room and heaved himself on the stiff bedspread. Just like the first time. He wondered if there was an interior designer, out there, making a killing constructing the most uncomfortable bedding and unnerving ambiances. Who would want a job like that? It only made miserable people feel even more desperate and made the lonely more desolate.
Jim stayed in six such hotels with varying shades of horrid decor over the last year. The moving never ended. Would it ever? He didn’t think so. Not unless he made his own destiny.
Stretching across the bed he snatched a folded manila envelope from the cookie-cutter nightstand. He stared at the return address one more time before he folded it even smaller and shoved it back into the heel of his boot. His roomie would return. Any minute. Jim slid under the sandpaper sheets and feigned sleep. He wouldn’t fool anyone but he didn’t care. He was too tired for reprimands or reminders. One more day and he’d be free forever. Jim shoved an extra pillow under his neck and dreamed of the future.
✽✽✽
Lydia Everett shoved the last sticky bun in Ethan’s cooler. She listened to the murmur of Ivy, her teen “foster” daughter, and Ethan, her husband, laughing on the front lawn. It was four in the morning, at the end of September. The sun was up but the air hosted a chilly breeze. Lydia imagined Ivy hugging herself to keep warm. She scooped up a thermos filled with hot, fresh coffee and joined the pair.
The instant the morning air hit her skin; Lydia regretted not snagging a quilt. Her jacket was great at keeping the wind from her back but not at keeping the icy air out. She hurried to her husband.
Ethan Everett was dressed snuggly in his fishing gear. Lydia stifled a snicker. Why anyone wanted to go fishing so early on a frosty morning made no sense to her. She was pleased she didn’t have to accompany Ethan on his yearly trip. She and Ivy had other plans.
Thaddeus Miller, his family in tow, pulled up to the curb in front of the Everett home. Kat waved at Lydia from the front seat. Jess and Sam, the Miller kids, smooshed their faces against the window in greeting.
“Time to go,” Ethan announced with finality. He smirked with glee, happy to be leaving his work behind. Lydia returned the smile and kissed his rosy cheeks.
“Have fun,” Lydia said.
Ethan hugged her and patted Ivy’s shoulder. “Give Scout another hug from her Pops,” he said. Ivy giggled and nodded. “I’ll see you ladies in a week.”
The van’s passenger door slid open. Ethan set his gear in one of the empty captain seats and his rump in the other. He blew a subtle kiss to his wife and shut the door.
Kat waved one more time, with her phone in hand. “Call me,” her mouth pantomimed the sentiment. The van pulled away and disappeared around the corner. They were off. Ivy and Lydia smiled.
“Looks like Kat’s really going to miss you this trip,” Ivy said. She shuddered and hurried back into the house with Lydia rushing behind her.
“I bet she is. We usually split cooking duty.” Now, Lydia laughed. She locked the door behind them, before grabbing the nearest throw blanket. Lydia flung it around her shoulders like a cape and hurried to the kitchen.
Ivy followed her. “I’m sorry you’re missing out. For me.”
“Are you kidding?” Lydia poured two large mugs to the brim with the last of a carafe of coffee. A drop splashed onto her wrist. She sucked it up before it scalded her skin. “I’ve always hated those trips.”
“What? Why?”
Lydia nodded toward the kitchen table. Ivy took the cue and sat. Lydia sat beside her. “I really don’t like fishing. I’m also not fond of cold or dirt. Plus, I really, really like warm showers. No, I go to be with Ethan. He enjoys it and likes knowing I’m there. Kat and I normally stay at the cabin with the kids and play cards. It’s fun but it’s not really my thing.”
“I’m not sure how much fishing Ethan’s going to get on this trip. Rumor is, there’s a lightning storm on the way.” Ivy stirred her coffee, unsure if she wanted to drink it. Scout would wake up in two hours. Ivy considered treating herself to a hot shower and a snooze before her baby wanted breakfast. Coffee would impede her ability to fall asleep.
However, insomnia didn’t hinder Lydia. She chugged down her coffee without a stutter. Liquid warmth radiated from her stomach to her limbs. Her chill melted away. She dropped the quilt. “By rumor, I’m guessing you mean that Miss Jacqui told you it was going to rain?”
Ivy chuckled. “You’re almost right. It was Miss Rene’s knees.”
“I thought so.”
Ivy was a frequent guest at Miss Jacqui’s house. The last town scandal, involving Jacqui’
s neighbor, revealed the town matriarch's great love of babies. After holding Enoch Brandes, Flora’s rainbow baby, Miss Jacqui pined for more time with little ones. Ivy happily obliged. She scored weekly dinner invites and offers of free babysitting. Ivy took full advantage of each. She believed this gave her pseudo foster parents more time to themselves.
It took a month, after the Farmers Market Fatality, as the town took to calling the summer’s sudden rise in crime, for Miss Rene to regain her faculties. Her medication righted, she returned to her happy self. The housemates enjoyed Ivy’s visits and doted on Baby Scout. Ivy loved the quiet comfort of their house. The ladies watched after Scout and Ivy absorbed the dining room table. Without Lydia watching over her shoulder, Ivy was able to soak in more information. She studied fiercely during her trips to Jacqui and Rene’s.
Studying was all she did, other than mother Scout. Group therapy sessions and church services didn’t count as social ventures. Not until after school is done, Ivy told herself. Her best friend, Emily Prior, was still in treatment. According to her letters, Emily would likely end her 11th-grade year in treatment. Ivy missed her but saw her absence as an opportunity. Fewer interruptions equaled more productivity. Ivy took hold of her freedom to lock herself away and hit the books. Miss Jacqui’s was her only respite from the Everett house and baby duty.
“How are the Gray Ladies,” Lydia asked.
Ivy smirked at the nickname. “Good. Good. Quilting up a storm. Miss Jacqui’s nearly ready to start up her long-arm for the new Wedding Quilt.” Lydia bucked at the instant guilt that shot through her chest. She was the destroyer of the original wedding quilt and thus the reason Jacqui and Rene slaved over making another one. Ivy sipped from her mug before pushing it aside.
“What time is your meeting at 3 Alarm?”
“Not until 3 pm. My meeting is at 3 at 3. That’s how I can remember it.”
“Smart.”
Ivy stood and stretched. “I’m going to nap for a bit before Scout wakes.”
✽✽✽
Flora laid Enoch on his favorite nursing blanket. She set a chalkboard beside him. In teal chalk, she had hand-lettered Enoch’s stats.
Four months- 13 lbs. 6oz. 24 in. labeled the top of the board. The bottom of the board hosted:
Loves: mommy and me time and peek-a-boo
Hates: loud noises
Enoch’s emboldened name absorbed the rest of the blackboard. Flora grinned at her display. Her conscience pinged ever so slightly. Enoch would not be officially four months old for another six days but Flora didn’t want to risk distraction. Distraction led to forgetfulness, a tendency she’d fallen into over the last 90 days.
She resolved not to miss a single keepsake moment. Other moms boasted of their second and third child neglectfulness. Firstborns got all the attention at all the appropriate moments. Second born children received about a third of that. Thirds and beyond were either forgotten or intentionally passed over. Flora didn’t want Enoch to grow up feeling uncelebrated. If it meant all her snapshots were slightly off in date, so be it. Only she would know the difference.
With one hand on Enoch’s belly, Flora stretched for her phone. She succeeded in flicking it to the ground directly before Ever burst into the room. The following crunch shriveled Flora’s momentary delight.
Ever, who hadn’t noticed the phone, winced at his mother’s sudden shift in mood. He backpedaled from the room slowly. Even with his downcast expression he missed seeing the mobile phone and smashed it a second time. Flora attempted to keep her face pleasant. She leveled her voice to swallow most of her mounting frustration. “Ever, honey, did you need something?”
The boy bent over, scooping up his mother’s phone. He offered it to her with puppy dog eyes welling with tears. “I can’t remember what I was going to say.” Ever huffed and dropped his arms to his sides. “I’ll take Enoch downstairs.” He didn’t wait for a response. Just as he had with his mother’s phone, he scooped up his gleeful brother and toted him out of the room.
Flora plonked onto the bed, missed her duvet, and sat on the corner of the painstakingly illustrated blackboard. It crackled under her postpartum bum. She prayed before investigating the screen of her cell. The prayer calmed her breathing but did not hold together the spider webbing face of her device.
Flora kicked her bedroom door shut and melted onto her bed. She smothered sobs of overwhelm into a nursing pillow.
✽✽✽
Although Ivy napped in her room instead of lounging at the table, her sleep was fitful. It only left her wishing for more sleep. Once Scout woke, the day revolved around her until naptime. Lydia offered to watch Scout while Ivy rested, but Ivy felt she overused Lydia’s kind offers. Ivy turned her down. Of course, as fate would have it, Lydia left to run errands and Scout decided she didn’t require a midday nap. Ivy struggled between schoolwork and entertaining Scout. When her phone alarm blurted, Ivy went lightheaded. Ninety minutes until her meeting at 3 Alarm Coffee.
Rushing to lay out her clothes and shower, before her appointment, Ivy was oblivious to the rattling of the windows. She didn’t notice the thwacking sound of gigantic raindrops splattering against the glass. She didn’t hear Lydia’s exclamations over the lightning and the paranormal predictions of Miss Rene’s knees. She didn’t feel the thunder shake the house as she doused her suds covered head under the shower. She lathered her hair in a hurry. Ivy did notice the sudden darkness take over the small, windowless bathroom. She shuddered, as a stray cluster of shampoo bubbles invaded her eye.
✽✽✽
Three pm, on a school week Thursday, meant the lines for 3 Alarm Coffee would be filled with frenzied mothers. They shifted and wobbled in the queue. All of them hoped to get their afternoon shot of legal stimuli before they herded to the pick-up line at Bailey Elementary.
The line made squeezing through the doors difficult. The bonus of the 3 pm school mom rush was the bounty of available seating.
Lydia excused herself and scooted between two waiting mothers chatting about a new lunch box policy at the school. Scout, perched on her hip, reached out to snag an especially shiny earring. Lydia calmly moved her hand away before she could succeed.
Bill Barnaby waved Lydia over to his table. The professor offered a warm smile to Scout and instructed Lydia to sit across from him. “Where’s Ivy?”
Lydia spun her gaze around. “She must be stuck in line.”
“I’m so glad 3 Alarm wasn’t hit in the power outage. Most of Main Street is unscathed, for the moment.”
Lydia bounced Scout on her knee. “I wish it were the same for our house.” Lydia leaned forward. Bill followed suit. “In fact, the power outage explains what’s walking through the door.”
“Oh?” Bill turned to the door. “Oh, I see.”
Ivy waited for the line to shift before she squished between the awaiting coffee lovers. Her damp blonde hair looked like cake batter braided and pinned into place. The collar of her best church traveler jacket turned up on the corners and curled under. The worst of her disheveled decor sat center stage on her tired face. Red rimmed and puffy eyelids encased bloodshot and weary eyes. No amount of concealer could withstand her tearing eyes, which hadn’t stopped watering since her shower.
Noticing Lydia and Bill smiling at her, Ivy smoothed her pencil skirt and straightened her shoulders. She returned the warm greeting and after a recentering pause approached the table.
Bill stood. Ivy took his hand and shook it with purpose. “Professor Barnaby thanks for meeting me today. I’m thrilled to have a chance to talk with you, one on one.”
Any disapproval Bill felt melted away. Ivy’s direct and sincere salutation satisfied his questioning first glimpse. “Me too, Ivy. Please have a seat. And call me Bill, will you?” Ivy nodded, happy to pass the first test.
✽✽✽
Flora spotted Lydia before Lydia saw her. She hurried to the door of Spencer’s Computer Repair shop and pounded on the glass. Lydia didn’t see her. The rain thumpin
g against the pavement and the shop awnings drowned out Flora’s attempts. She opened the door. “Lydia! Lydia!”
Mrs. Everett turned. Flora waved her inside the shop. A gust of wet wind followed Lydia inside. The clerk grimaced. More mess for him to clean. “What are you doing downtown?”
Lydia offered Flora a loose side hug. Scout waved hello. Her pudgy hand barely escaped her yellow rain slicker. “Ivy’s talking with Bill Barnaby at 3 Alarm.”
“Good for her. She’s already looking into careers.”
“She seems desperate to move out.” Lydia frowned. “She thinks she’s in the way. I don’t know what makes her feel like that. Ethan and I both love having her and Scout living with us. It’s a blessing.”
Flora spoke to Lydia in a sing-song voice. She grinned and played with Scout. “I don’t think you and Ethan do anything to make Ivy suspect she’s unwanted. It’s probably more the fact that she’s rarely felt wanted. It makes her question everything. Besides, didn’t you want to grow up and move away when you were 17?”
“I guess. You’re right.” Lydia’s usual twinkle returned to her eyes. “What are you doing here?”
“Mrs. Brandes?” the clerk called.
“Just a moment,” Flora said. “Yes.” Flora walked over to the cash register. Lydia followed her over, purposely avoiding eavesdropping by playing with Scout. The clerk handed Flora an invoice, which Flora signed and returned to him. She faced Lydia while the cashier inspected the document. “My phone was pummeled by a tween,” she explained.
“Oh, no.”
“Oh yes. But Timmy, here, says they can fix it in an hour or two.” Flora grinned at the retreating clerk.
“Great!”
As the word left Lydia’s mouth the room lit with a flash of sudden white brilliance. A slow exhale later and thunder cracked, followed by total darkness.
Chapter 2
Lydia and Flora stumbled into 3 Alarm Coffee. Since 3 Alarm focused on creating a relaxing ambiance, a smattering of candles kept away the pitch blackness. Ivy hurried to Lydia before Lydia’s eyes adjusted. The teen mom untucked her daughter from Lydia’s coat and snuggled her close. The baby shook from crying.
