Pups pumpkins and murder, p.1
Pups, Pumpkins, and Murder, page 1
* * * * *
FREE EBOOK OFFER
Sign up for our newsletter to be the first to know about our new releases, special bargains, and giveaways, and as a bonus receive a FREE ebook!
Sign up for the Gemma Halliday newsletter!
* * * * *
* * * * *
PUPS, PUMPKINS, AND MURDER
a Samantha Davies Mystery
by
S.A. KAZLO
* * * * *
Copyright © 2023 by S.A. Kazlo
Cover design by Daniela Colleo
of http://www.StunningBookCovers.com
Published by Gemma Halliday Publishing
http://www.gemmahallidaypublishing.com
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in, or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
For the three rays of sunshine in my life—Max, Cody and Sarah—I love you all to the moon and back.
Acknowledgements
I owe a great deal of gratitude to June Kosier, Margie Ortega and my Thursday night critique group for helping bring this book to life—Zachary Richards, Robin Inwald, Sandy Buxton, Montana Tracey, Kay Hafner, and Billy Neary. Thank you all so very much.
I'm forever grateful to my publisher, Gemma Halliday, for believing in me, Sam, Candie, and Porkchop. Thank you.
Thank you to Jennifer Rarden for whipping this book into shape.
And for my biggest cheerleader and believing in me, my husband, Michael. I love you.
My readers, thank you from the bottom of my heart for taking the time to enter my little world of Wings Fall and its characters.
* * * * *
CHAPTER ONE
Who knew a pumpkin could kill a person? I was sure Scooter Dickenson never thought his prize-winning 2,000-pound gourd would be the means of a person's death when his flatbed truck rumbled into the Wings Falls Park yesterday morning. The victim—Edgar Jensen—was the new loan officer at the Wings Falls National Bank. I had never met Edgar before yesterday, when I had the misfortune of making his acquaintance at the annual Taste of Wings Falls Fair. I say misfortune because from what I observed at the fair, he wasn't the nicest person, arguing with a number of fairgoers. But was someone mad enough at Edgar to want him dead? These questions ran through my mind as I sat with my cousin, Candie, in our regular booth in Sweetie Pie's Café after Sunday Mass at Saint Anthony's.
The weekend had started off wonderfully.
* * *
It was Friday night, and my boyfriend Hank Johnson, Candie, and her new hubby Mark Hogan, and I were sitting in Adirondack chairs around the metal fire pit in my backyard enjoying s'mores and mugs of hot chocolate. I was mesmerized by the flames licking the oak logs in the circle of fire as they reached for the sky. The sparks reminded me of the lightning bugs flitting around that I would try to capture on a summer night when I was a child.
Earlier in the afternoon, I had walked my reddish-brown dachshund, Porkchop, through the maze of tents set up for the Wings Falls annual fall event—A Taste of Wings Falls. Vendors were busy preparing to sell everything from wool scarves to maple syrup. The rug hooking group I belong to, the Loopy Ladies, was going to sell hand-hooked items.
A big draw every year for the Taste was Scooter Dickenson's award-winning pumpkin. As I'd walked close to the flatbed holding this year's beauty, a growl rumbled from deep within Porkchop. I'd looked down, and the short hairs on his back had been standing on end. He'd started to bark and pull on his leash. His behavior had surprised me. If a squirrel had run across our path, I could have understood his agitation, but a pumpkin? Go figure.
"Your marshmallow is going to burn to a crisp if you don't pay attention."
I laughed and pulled the stick holding my charcoal-black marshmallow out of the flames. My Southern Belle cousin, Candie, was right. It was a bit crispy, but then again, that's how I liked my s'mores—a crispy blackened marshmallow sandwiched between a chocolate bar and two graham crackers. I assembled my gooey treat then bit into it. With my eyes closed, a smile of appreciation for the sweet goodness resting on my tongue spread across my face.
"That good, huh?"
My eyes snapped open at my boyfriend's comment. Hank and I had been a couple for a little over a year now, but it wasn't until Candie married Mark, our town's mayor, this past July that he said the "L" word to me at their wedding. When Hank and I met, he was newly transferred to Wings Falls from Albany PD. How we met wasn't the best of circumstances. Porkchop, my main man at the time, and I had stumbled on a dead body. Hank was an investigating officer in the murder of the pet shelter's owner where I was trying to donate a bag of dog food Porkchop had turned his nose up at. A good deed that turned disastrous for me since I became the main suspect in the crime.
I fingered the gold heart-shaped locket hanging around my neck Hank gave me at my cousin's wedding when he proclaimed his love for me. I wore it every day. Warmth spread through me whenever I thought of that special moment.
Porkchop lay at my feet chewing on his favorite treat—a rawhide bone. Nina, Hank's sweet bulldog, curled next to him doing the same. I snuggled into my down vest. The evening's temperatures had dropped since this morning, when the weather was unusually warm for late October.
"How did setting up the Loopy Ladies' booth at the Taste go today?" Hank asked, sipping his hot chocolate from a Harry Potter mug.
Mark and Candie had brought a thermos of hot chocolate, while I supplied the makings for s'mores.
I licked a glob of sticky marshmallow off my fingers. "I think it's as done as it's going to be. Especially with Gladys and Helen overseeing which rug should go where."
Hank laughed. "I can see my aunt now. She'd puff up if Helen Garber didn't agree with her about how your booth should look."
Gladys O'Malley was Hank's octogenarian aunt, my next-door neighbor, and a fellow rug hooker of mine and Candie's. Helen was also a member of the Loopy Ladies. The two strong-minded ladies often butted heads. Neither wanted to give an inch when they spoke their minds. And now that the Loopy Ladies had reserved a booth at the Taste of Wings Falls, held in the town park of my hometown, they each had their own opinion as to how the rugs the members of our group had created should be displayed.
Candie's auburn curls bounced about her shoulders as she shook her head. "I've seen polecats act better when attacking a piece of meat than those two ladies."
I poured more hot chocolate from Candie's thermos into my "Hookers Do It Better" mug. The hot liquid helped warm the parts of me not facing the fire. "I agree with you. If it wasn't for the money we'll raise from the mug rugs and hooked rugs we plan to sell for the benefit of Camp Adirondack, I'd have said the heck with the whole thing." Camp Adirondack was a summer camp that hosted inner city kids during the summer.
Mark raised an eyebrow. "What are mug rugs? Rugs shaped like a mug of beer?"
I laughed. "No, coasters, really. A small, hooked mat to place your mug of coffee or whatever your drink of choice is on so you don't mar the top of your table."
"Okay, gotcha. I think you hookers have a language all of your own."
Candie slapped Mark's arm. "Honey, you don't know the half of it. We hookers are very talented people."
Mark squeezed Candie's hand. "I'm learning that, sweetheart."
Hank leaned forward in his wooden Adirondack chair and scratched between Nina's ears. My fingers itched to push back the lock of brown hair that had a mind of its own and constantly fell onto his forehead. "Mark, how's your campaign for reelection coming? I know you're running unopposed right now, but I'm sure there are things you need to do to make sure people vote for you."
Mark handed a perfectly toasted and melty s'more to Candie. "Right now, things are fine, but I still have to let the people of Wings Falls know what actions I plan to continue for the good of our city. I won't take any vote for granted. There could always be a write-in candidate on election day." He rubbed his forehead and said, "Although he isn't actively campaigning, Bret Hargrove is still on the ballot."
I groaned. Just months ago, Bret was also running for mayor, but his vision of expanding Wings Falls didn't meet with the favor of a lot of the town's citizens. Plus, his being arrested for passing bad checks and using stolen credit cards to fund his campaign didn't help his cause. But some people still believed his lies that he was framed and would vote for him.
Candie bit into her s'more then placed the unfinished portion on the arm of her Adirondack chair. She reached over and clasped Mark's hand in hers. "Now, sweetie, don't go worrying yourself into a stew over this. Wings Falls' citizens are way too smart to fall for that scoundrel's fibs." She raised his hand to her lips and kissed it tenderly. Mark's cheeks reddened, and not from the heat of the roaring fire we sat around or the chill wind that stirred the flames. Mark had pursued my cousin for five years until he finally broke down her o ne-date policy she had set after breaking off her eleventh engagement. Candie was a natural beauty, with her violet eyes, porcelain skin, and auburn curls that fell to her shoulders. Mark was besotted with her from the first day she came to work as his part-time secretary at city hall.
To turn the conversation back to a lighter subject, I asked, "Who do you think will take home the trophy for the best barbeque in the Wings Falls Barbeque Contest?"
Hank spoke up. "It's going to be a difficult one. We now have three great barbeque restaurants in Wings Fall—Sweetie Pie's, The Round Up, and The Smiling Pig."
Mark rubbed his stomach and licked his lips. "I have no idea who I'm going to cast my vote for, but I know I'm going to enjoy trying to find out."
We all laughed at Mark's statement. It certainly was going to be a tight contest. Franny Goodway owned Sweetie Pie's Café. She moved north a little over fifteen years ago from the south about the same time Candie moved to Wings Falls from Hainted Holler, Tennessee after breaking up with fiancé number eleven. Sweetie Pie's was where a person went for delicious home-cooked food with a Southern touch thrown in. The Round Up was a country western–themed restaurant that opened in the 1950s. Along with its great barbeque, in the evening you could dance to country bands. Back in the day, the restaurant saw the likes of Dolly, Willie, Crystal, and many more now famous singers gracing its stage. The newest barbeque kid on the block was The Smiling Pig, owned by Clint Higgins. In fact, one of the members of the Loopy Ladies, Marybeth Higgins, was his sister.
Mark shook his head. The tassel on the knitted hat pulled over his thinning hair waggled back and forth. "Since we frequent all three of those great restaurants, I don't know how I'm going to make up my mind. I'm glad it's a voter's choice done by secret ballot and I don't have to be a judge."
Porkchop stirred at my feet. He had lain there all evening chewing on his rawhide bone while we all enjoyed our s'mores and hot chocolate.
"It is going to be a tough one, that's for sure."
Hank's phone rang. He pulled it from the pocket of the blue fleece pullover that matched the color of his eyes and swiped the screen. "Hi, Jake. What's up? He did what? I'll be right there. Thanks for the call."
CHAPTER TWO
Hank gritted his teeth and shoved the phone back into his pocket. "Sorry, Sam, but I'm going to have to call it an early night." He rose from his chair and looked down at me with regret clouding his eyes.
I reached up and grabbed his hand. "What's happened? Did someone get hurt?" I felt the nervous knot in my stomach I got every time a call came in and he had to leave.
Hank shook his head. His wayward curl fell back onto his forehead. "No, but I feel like pounding some sense into Aaron's head. That was Jake Booker, the owner of The Dugout."
"What did Aaron do?" I was afraid of what Hank would say.
"He walked into The Dugout having already had a few drinks too many. Jake refused to serve him, and Aaron got mouthy. I'm grateful Jake thought to call me."
Aaron was Hank's little brother and Hank's clone—the same wavy dark hair, crystal blue eyes, and tall, muscular build. Unlike Hank, though, Aaron was the spoiled baby of the family, the youngest of seven children, Hank was the oldest. With his good looks, Aaron had charmed his way through life so far, but at twenty-one, he still had a lot of growing up to do. As a teenager, he had started to hang out with an unsavory group, and once he'd reached drinking age, he'd closed down more than one bar. Hank's dear mother had had enough of Aaron's shenanigans and two months ago sent him to live with Hank, hoping his older brother would be a good influence and help straighten him out.
Mark put down his mug of hot chocolate and started to rise out of his chair. "Would you like some company?"
"Thanks buddy, but I can handle this. He won't be the first drunk I gave a ride home to. But this one isn't going to get any sympathy from me."
I knew how hard Hank was trying to help his brother become a good person. He'd given Aaron a roof over his head, put food on the table, and even cosigned an auto loan for him. I didn't know if I would have had the patience Hank did with his younger sibling. "I thought he was doing pretty good staying out of trouble since he moved here?"
"He has. He got a job working at Sweetie Pie's in the kitchen. He was even talking about signing up for the culinary school at the local community college for the winter term. He might be an older student, but a lot of people don't start school right out of high school. Aaron even mentioned going out with Franny's niece, Joy."
Joy worked at her aunt's restaurant to help with her college expenses. She had been attending college down South but decided not to return this fall semester.
I turned to my cousin. "Candie, remember the other day when we stopped into Sweetie Pie's for breakfast? Franny mentioned Joy was going to transfer to Wings Falls Community College for the winter term. I wonder if Aaron had anything to do with her decision. She certainly would be a good influence on him."
Candie licked melted chocolate off her slender fingers. "Yes, she did. Maybe there's more to their romance than we suspect. Hank, you should march that brother of yours to the woodshed for a good talking to." Candie's violet eyes sparkled with mischief. "If you know what I mean."
A grin spread across Hank's five o'clock–shadowed face. "Yes, I do, but he's a tad bigger than me now, so I don't think I could get away with that."
I laughed at Hank's statement. Aaron towered over Hank's six feet by a good four inches.
Nina stirred at his feet. She had been curled up next to Porkchop, chewing on her own rawhide bone. "Could Nina spend the night? I don't know what I'll be dealing with once I get to The Dugout, and I don't want to have to worry about her, too."
I bent and scratched Nina between the ears. "No problem. You know Nina and Porkie are BFFs."
Hank kissed me on the cheek. "I'm sorry to break up this evening. I was really enjoying myself."
Candie waved her ringed fingers at Hank. "Oh, give her a proper kiss."
My laughter at my cousin's smart remark was cut short when Hank pulled me out of my chair and gathered me into his arms. He placed a kiss on my lips that melted my bones.
Candie smiled. "Now that's more like it."
"Walk me to my car," Hank whispered into my ear.
I nodded and grabbed his hand. "Be back in a minute," I called over my shoulder to the newlyweds.
When we stood next to Hank's Jeep, he pressed me against the car door and kissed me again. Thank heavens I was leaning against the car, or I would have slid to the ground. "Take that as a raincheck with more to come." His breath came out in ragged breaths as he weaved his fingers through my curly hair.
I ran a finger along his lips. "Oh, I expect to claim it and soon."
"I guess I better get going. Who knows what my brother is up to, but he will definitely know I'm unhappy with him interrupting my night with you." Hank opened the Jeep's door and climbed in.
I waved goodbye to him as he pulled out of my driveway. My heart went out to him and his problems with his brother. This was one time I figured I was lucky to be an only child, no sibling issues to have to deal with.
Leaves crunched under my suede boots as I walked to my backyard. Mark stood and held out a hand to Candie to help her up. She reached out a hand to me. "Sweetie, I think we'll call it a night, too. We have a big day tomorrow with the Taste of Wings Falls and all the activities going on."
"Yes. I have to get Porkchop's costume ready for the Pet Parade. Then there's all the vendors to check out, and Scooter Dickenson has brought in the pumpkin he grew on his farm."
Mark wrapped an arm around Candie's shoulder. "He grew the largest pumpkin in the county this year. It weighs over two thousand pounds."
