Murder in the meditation, p.1
Murder in the Meditation, page 1
MURDER IN THE MEDITATION
KARI LEE TOWNSEND
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be sold, copied, distributed, reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, mechanical or digital, including photocopying and recording or by any information storage and retrieval system without the prior written permission of both the publisher, Oliver Heber Books and the author, Kari Lee Townsend, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
PUBLISHER'S NOTE: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © Kari Lee Townsend
Published by Oliver-Heber Books
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CONTENTS
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
Epilogue
About the Author
Other Books By Kari Lee Harmon
1
“There you are, Morty,” I said as I scooped up my large, pure white cat with black eyes and carried him into the living room of Divine Inspiration. I snuggled his fluffy head under my chin as I admired the newly renovated inn. My mother’s classic taste was a far cry from my laid-back vibe. Morty had always wandered for days at a time, but lately he’d been gone more often and for longer periods. A summer breeze blew in through the open windows, carrying the smell of fresh cut grass and flowers with it, and I could hear the sound of the river out back.
A year and a half ago I had come to Divinity from the Big Apple. The small, upstate New York town was quaint with old-fashioned street lamps and historical buildings. The house I fell in love with was an ancient Victorian house with a massive wraparound porch off of Main Street on Shadow Lane. I’d named her Vicky. I got her for a steal because everyone said she was haunted. Morty had come with the house, and it was apparent from the first night that he was no ordinary cat. He moved at lighting speed, I’d never seen him eat or sleep, and his eyes were so dark. I didn’t know what he was, so I’d named his Morty—short for immortal.
I never used to worry about him not coming home until now.
“I swear he spends more time here than at home,” I said.
“You’re married now,” my mother, Vivian Meadows, said, looking chic and sophisticated, her golden blond hair artfully styled and tailored black suit more appropriate for a courtroom than to greet her guests. “He knows Mitch will protect you.”
My mother had been a tough lawyer and my father a world-renowned cardiologist, but they’d retired and moved to Divinity to be closer to me and to take over Divine Inspiration—the lovely inn on the outskirts of town. They’d had me later in life. I knew they loved me, but two brilliant minds couldn’t understand how their only child had chosen to be a fortune teller as a career. They still didn’t fully believe in my psychic ability, but they’d finally begun to support my choices, especially since my wedding just two short months ago.
“I’m a grown woman, Mother. I don’t need protecting.” I stood straighter to make myself look less like the petite Tinkerbell my husband compared me to and more like the capable woman I was. I kissed the top of Morty’s soft furry head, and he squirmed as if agitated before leaping from my arms and walking regally out of the room and into the kitchen.
My mother didn’t even flinch. She used to be terrified of Morty, but ever since he’d saved her life, she’d softened toward him.
I puckered my forehead. “You don’t think he’s mad at me for marrying Mitch, do you?” My two favorite fellows had butted heads over the past year and a half, but I’d thought they had come to a truce of sorts after the wedding. They knew I would never choose between them. “Maybe he thinks I abandoned him.” I twisted the material of my tie-dyed sundress between my fingers until I saw my mother’s raised eyebrow. Letting go, I smoothed the new wrinkles I’d placed there and let out a breath of air.
“Oh, fiddle dee dee, child, that cat knows you love him.” Granny Gert waved her wooden spoon in the air then stuck it back in her apron made out of old flour sacks. I’d always been closer to my grandmother than my mother, which didn’t sit well with Vivian. Patting her perfectly styled snow-white hair, Granny Gert’s snappy brown eyes twinkled. “He’s just here to see me.” She picked up her pumpkin cookie jar with the foil wrapped plate for a lid. “No one can resist my cookies. Besides, I made him some new summer bowties.” Morty didn’t like many people, but he’d formed a similar bond with my grandmother as he had with me, even allowing her to dress him up in bowties like my late Grampa Frank.
“My word, everyone knows he likes my famous lemon meringue pie best,” Fiona Atwater-Dingleburg said, shaking her salon-bottled, strawberry blond head of hair and batting her contact-enhanced, lavender eyes.
Fiona refused to age. Period. End of story.
She used to be Granny Gert’s arch nemesis for decades because she’d had a thing for Grandpa Frank, but he’d chosen my grandmother. Now, after all this time, she married Judge Harry Dingleburg. The Dynamic Duo had made amends for the most part. They were still super competitive, but Great-Grandma Tootsie kept them in line now that they had become the Tasty Trio. They’d come to my mother’s rescue in the kitchen as the cooks when she’d needed help with the inn.
“Boys-oh-day, ladies,” Great-Grandma Tootsie interrupted, emerging from the kitchen with a plate of breakfast scones that smelled heavenly. Butter and cinnamon had my mouth watering in anticipation of my first bite. “We all know Morty has a mind of his own.” She set the tray on the dining room table and turned her faded blue eyes on me. “Sunny, my dear, Morty knows where his home is. He also knows you don’t need him as much these days, so he’s free to come and go as he pleases.” Her face softened as she stared off out the window. “That one’s a character, he is. Reminds me of someone I knew a long time ago.”
“Your late husband?” I asked, knowing she had been married with children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren. They had all either passed away or moved, but Toots had decided to return to the town she’d loved most instead of going with them. They had only agreed because staying at the inn was a compromise so she wouldn’t be alone. She had amazing skills in the kitchen, so she’d made my mother a deal. Free room and board and she would become her head chef. We all thought that was a crazy idea, given her age.
Until we tasted her cooking.
Now we were all thankful and more than grateful. The woman was a genius in the kitchen and no one could replicate her recipes because she didn’t have any. When asked, she would simply say, Oh, a handful of this and a pinch of that. My parents planned to throw her a huge surprise birthday party later this year with her family when she would turn one hundred years old.
“Oh, no, dear. My husband was a wonderful man and we had a good life together, God rest his soul. I’m talking about a man I knew before him.” Her faded blue eyes misted. “The love of my life who got away.”
“If you don’t mind my asking, what happened?” I couldn’t imagine finding Mitch and then having to spend a lifetime without him.
“Times were different back then, jobs and money scarce. My father got a job in another state. My mother had passed on, and my father couldn’t work and raise my younger siblings alone. So, I sacrificed my own happiness for the sake of my family. I came back to Divinity a few years later, but the man I knew was no longer there. No one had seen or heard from him in over a year, so I left. Everything happens for a reason, I suppose. I just wish I could have seen him one more time.”
Granny Gert’s brown eyes were full of mischief and twinkles. “It’s never too late for wishes to come true. I loved my Frank dearly, but he would want me to go on living. So, I never stop wishing a certain Captain Grady Walker will finally like me for more than my cookies.” She winked, then grew serious. “I have a feeling this summer is going to be full of surprises.” Her gaze met mine and held.
I blinked.
Great-Grandma Tootsie adjusted her checkered apron over her polyester pants, breaking the odd energy buzzing between my grandmother and myself. “Enough about me,” Toots said. “You are simply glowing, Sunny. Married life agrees with you.”
Mitch walked through the doorway to the inn at that moment, followed closely by my father and Harry. Both the older men wore rubber wader overalls, bucket hats, and vests with all sorts of fishing paraphernalia sticking out of the many pockets. Harry carried the tacklebox, and my father carried the poles. Harry was older than my father, and on a mission to carry out his bucket list. Ever since my father had retired, he’d been Harry’s shadow. Now, apparently, since Mitch was officially part of the family, they were trying to recruit him.
“Come on, Son,” my father boomed, clapping Mitch on the shoulder. “There hasn’t been a murder in months. Surely you can take the day off.”
“That’s right, Detective,” Harry chimed in. “We’ll make it worth your while.” He grinned, holding up a cooler of trouble.
“Donald,” my mother scolded, and he held his hands up then pointed at Harry, to which my mother simply rolled her eyes.
I tried not to giggle over the look of desperation on my husband’s face and decided to have pity on him. He had a hard time saying no to my father. “Sorry, Dad, I’m not ready to share my husband just yet.” I walked over to Mitch and looped my arm through his. “Remember, you planned to spend the day with me, honey? We’d better get going if we’re going to fit in everything we talked about doing today.”
“That’s right, babe. I could never forget plans with you.” Mitch looked at the guys and shrugged. “Sorry, guys. Can’t disappoint the wife.” He took my hand, and we made a beeline for the door, double-time.
“Newlyweds,” we heard one of the men mutter.
“Give him a while,” the other one said. “He’ll be the one asking us to go fishing soon enough.”
We closed the door on their chuckles, followed by muffled offended female voices. Things were different since we’d gotten married, that was for sure. Granny Gert’s words came back to me, and I frowned, an uneasy feeling settling into my gut.
I’d never liked surprises.
“Good morning, Mrs. Stone,” Mitch whispered in my ear the next morning and then kissed my cheek, his musky cologne lingering after he stepped away. True to his word, he’d taken the day off and played hooky with me yesterday, even though our plans hadn’t been real. We spent a nice relaxing day doing nothing.
“I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of hearing that, Mr. Stone.” I turned around in our kitchen and faced Mitch, then glanced throughout the room.
The massive kitchen with her well-worn hardwood floors, antique harvest table, and chipped china was my favorite part of the house. The table sat right by the large windows that allowed glorious rays of sunshine to pour in and warm the area, making the room come alive. The décor in this room, like the rest of the house, was older than my great-grandmother’s hope chest. So full of charm and history. I loved it all. There was only one thing wrong.
Morty was missing again.
The house seemed so quiet without him. I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was going on with him. I sensed things were off, but I hadn’t been able to get a read on my mysterious cat. I’d have to try harder so I would know how to help him. Thank goodness for Mitch, or I would be lonely. It was nice having a husband to share my space with now, but that didn’t mean I would ever stop missing Morty.
My gaze traced over Mitch. He was so handsome. Tall and muscular with stormy gray eyes, thick dark wavy hair, and a five o’clock shadow that helped hide the jagged scar along his jawline. He was as dark as I was fair, as grumpy as I was sunny, but I wouldn’t go through life with anyone else by my side.
“Can you believe it’s only been a year and a half since I moved here? It seems like so much longer.” I took a sip of my tea.
“Probably because there have been five murders in Divinity since you moved to town.” He raised one eyebrow at me and sipped his strong black coffee.
Divinity was a sleepy small town where not much happened. That was one of the reason’s Mitch had moved from being a big-city homicide investigator to a small-town detective. Or at least Divinity used to be quiet until I had moved to town from the Big Apple. Trouble seemed to follow me wherever I went for some reason.
I was psychic, but even I hadn’t been able to work this one out.
“Come on, Detective Grumpy Pants, you can’t blame all of those murders on me. And, hey, maybe that streak is over now that we’re married.”
“Did your magic wand tell you that?” He smirked.
“Very funny.” I poked him in the chest. “I’m not a fairy, Mr. Know-it-all. I’m a fortune teller.”
“Same difference.”
I gasped. “Not even close. I don’t need magic or fortune-telling tools to see that Divinity has been quiet lately, and I’m not complaining.” Mitch had finally admitted that things I predicted tended to come true eventually; however, I wouldn’t go as far as to say he was a true believer in my abilities.
He grunted. “Yeah, well, things won’t be quiet for long with the Psychic Fair coming to town this weekend. Detective Fuller and I are going to have our hands full. The crazies tend to come out of the woodwork around events like that. On top of everything else, it will be a full moon this weekend. Not that I believe strange things happen because of the moon. I think people make themselves crazy because they believe it, resulting in the most bizarre things happening during a full moon.” He set his mug in the sink. “I wouldn’t be surprised if Mayor Cromwell planned to host the Psychic Fair this weekend on purpose. Now, there’s one big red-headed nutjob if you ask me.”
“He’s not crazy just because he believes in psychics.” The mayor was my biggest fan and had come to me for weekly readings since I’d moved to town. Mitch didn’t like him because the mayor was not a fan of Mitch’s and insisted the police use me as a consultant because of my psychic abilities. On the other hand, Chief Spencer wasn’t a fan of mine, yet he adored Mitch. At least Captain Walker liked both of us. “I for one am thrilled about the Psychic Fair coming to Divinity. It will be nice to be around people like myself if only for a weekend.”
I’d always been psychic, but I didn’t start my fortune-telling business until I moved to Divinity. I’d only recently learned there was a whole organization for people like me. The Psychic Fair was for members of the organization. I planned to meet my fellow psychics and join the organization so I could take part in future fairs.
I chewed my bottom lip. “You don’t think I’ll lose my regular customers, do you?”
“Not a chance, Tink. They love you.” He kissed me softly on the lips and then tweaked my nose. “But not as much as I do.”
He’d called me Tink, short for Tinkerbell, and I’d called him Grumpy Pants from the moment we’d met. It had sort of stuck and had turned into terms of endearment.
“You want some eggs for breakfast?” He pulled out a frying pan and spatula then headed for the refrigerator.
The thought of breakfast of any kind had my stomach turning over. I breathed in and out through my nose slowly until my stomach settled. “No thanks. I’ll just stick with tea. My stomach’s a little off. Must be something I ate last night.”
He frowned, his hand holding an open carton of eggs. He’d already cracked three. “We ate the same thing, and I feel fine.” He set the carton down and picked up my cell phone, thrusting it in my direction. “Call Doc Wilcox right now.”
Mitch had always been over protective, especially after his younger sister died years ago. He was terrified to lose anyone else he loved. Now that we were married, he was worse than ever. All the progress he had made in being more comfortable with me being a consultant for the police department vanished faster than my cat.
I took my phone from him and set it on the counter. “It’s probably indigestion or some little stomach bug.” He opened his mouth to speak, but I covered his lips with my fingertips. “I’m not going to close up shop over a little tummy ache. I have a full day of clients today. If I don’t feel better later, I will cancel the rest of the afternoon and go see the doctor. Okay?” I dropped my hand.
“Sure,” he said. I could tell that was hard for him, but at least he was trying.
“Thank you.” I kissed his cheek then pointed to the sizzling frying pan. “Better flip those eggs before you burn them like I do.”
“Roger that.” He quickly returned to cooking.
I headed to my Sanctuary which was safer territory for me. Let’s just say my skills did not lie in the kitchen. Just before I reached my fortune-telling room, I noticed the horseshoe Morty had given Mitch and me at our wedding to wish us good luck. I’d hung it above my Sanctuary door. What was it doing in the hall on the floor? I looked around, but once again didn’t see my mischievous cat. I picked the horseshoe up and rehung it, but couldn’t shake the feeling….
