Murder So Deadly

by Eileen Curley Hammond

  Murder

  so Deadly

  A Merry March Mystery

  Eileen Curley Hammond

  Twody Press

  Murder So Deadly Copyright © 2019 by Eileen Hammond.

  All rights reserved.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  Cover designed by SelfPubBookCovers.com/ RLSather

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Eileen Curley Hammond

  Visit my website at www.eileencurleyhammond.com

  Printed in the United States of America

  First Printing: September 2019

  Twody Press

  ISBN-978-1-7325460-6-6

  Author’s note

  Thank you, readers. I hope you are enjoying Merry’s journey! And, if you are, please take a moment to pen a review on Amazon and Goodreads. As an independent author, I truly appreciate it!

  It’s my good fortune to have friends who give their time to help me craft a better story. I’d especially like to thank Jenna Grinstead for her insight, suggestions, and advice. I’d also like to thank Eric Henderson for his eagle eye and consistency. And I’d be remiss if I did not thank April and Shawn VanDervort for sharing their assistance with a plot point. I’d also like to thank the following officers of Buckeye Crime Writers: Connie Berry, Jim Sabin, Patrick Stuart, and Kandy Williams for giving feedback on my first chapter. I appreciate their insight and energy.

  Buckeye Crime Writers is always a source of inspiration, education, and support. Their speaker series is great, and through it, I learned about poisons from Dan Baker, Chief Toxicologist for the Franklin County Coroner’s office. Thank you, Dan, for sharing your expertise.

  I also want to thank Kelly McGuiness for being my touchstone on federal law enforcement.

  Any errors in the book are mine, and mine alone.

  A big thank you to my editor, Lauren Pan, for keeping me on the straight and narrow, and suggesting good changes; you inspire me.

  And finally, thank you to my family. To Caroline Silvey (Artist), who provided a plot idea, Kevin Curley (Playwright), who gives great feedback, and of course, my husband, Robert, who provides encouragement every step of the way.

  Also by Eileen Curley Hammond

  Murder So Sinful

  Murder So Festive

  Murder So Heartless

  CONTENTS

  Author’s note

  Also by Eileen Curley Hammond

  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

  About the Author

  For my biggest and most cherished fans in Florida, Aunt Marialyce and Uncle Dick.

  Chapter 1

  Thunder rattled the windows and was followed quickly by a flash of lightning. My two cats cuddled closer, seeming to seek comfort in my warmth. The house groaned as high winds lashed at the exterior walls. I burrowed farther under the covers, eyes wide. Another bolt hit with a boom so loud it seemed to have landed right next door. There was a pause, and then the lights went out.

  I yelped and yanked my bedside table drawer open. Fumbling, I found the flashlight. Maybe it was only a circuit breaker. As I made my way downstairs, I stopped by my daughter Jenny’s door and eased it open. Soft snores greeted me. I shut the door and scurried down the stairs. Deep shadows in the living room evaded the play of the flashlight. As I ran past, I shivered.

  The circuit breakers had been tripped. I said a little prayer and flipped the switches to reset them. Nothing. I turned to go back upstairs. A ghostly white face floated in front of me, and I screamed.

  A voice snapped, “Stop that racket. It’s bad enough the lights are out.”

  “Wanda?”

  My boyfriend Rob’s mother and current houseguest answered, “Who else would it be?”

  “What do you have on your face?”

  “Cold cream, of course. It moisturizes as I sleep. The storm woke me, so I grabbed the flashlight you left on my dresser. I heard you banging about, so I followed you.”

  I shuddered. “It’s cold.”

  “Since it’s not a breaker, there’s no reason for us to dawdle in this dank basement. I’ll see you in the morning.” The light bobbed as she made her way up the stairs.

  I took a deep breath and followed her. My foot hit a damp patch on the concrete floor. Don’t tell me the basement’s flooding. I scanned the perimeter. The rest of the cellar seemed dry. The flashlight lit the stairs, which were marked by damp footprints. Why were her feet wet? I was focused on her face, so I never looked to see what she was wearing. The wind continued to howl.

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  The next morning came far too early. I was huddled over my coffee when a creak from the third stair made the hairs on my arms salute. I can’t believe she’s only been here for two days. It feels like two years. I leaped up and grabbed another coffee mug. Wanda strutted into the kitchen. The light floral aroma of Jean Patou’s Joy scented the air. Her hair was teased and shellacked into a careful bob, and her makeup, though heavy, was expertly applied.

  I poured cream into the coffee and handed it to her. “Here you go, just the way you like it. That was some storm.”

  “It was.” She took a sip and pursed her lips. “It’s not hot enough.” She pushed it away.

  I gritted my teeth and placed the mug in the microwave. “This should do the trick.”

  Her well-manicured left eyebrow rose. “Microwaved coffee. What a treat.” She sat at the counter, smoothed her Lilly Pulitzer flowered dress, and examined her French manicure. “I’ve been thinking. You really should do something about your hair.”

  I patted my shoulder-length curls. “What’s wrong with my hair?”

  “That color. It’s red.”

  “It’s my natural color. I like it.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with helping nature. That’s what stylists are for. Maybe when you and Rob come to visit, I’ll have my guy try to do something with you.” She gave me an appraising glance. “And maybe your makeup. Perhaps a different color liner.”

  I bit my tongue. I’ll visit you when hell freezes over.

  “At any rate, I need to go out today. You don’t need your car, do you?”

  I stifled a groan. “I had planned on going to the other side of town to check on one of the claims, but I guess I could walk or go tomorrow.”

  “Good. I’ll be back in time for dinner. What are you making?”

  “Lasagna?”

  She stood. “Too heavy with all that cheese and carbs. You need to be setting a better example for your daughter. Pick up salmon and a nice salad; it’s much healthier.” She took my keys and waltzed out, the door slamming behind her.

  Jenny’s head poked around the corner. “Is she gone?”

  “Barely.”

  “Good.” Jenny hurried into the kitchen, filled a glass full of
orange juice, and downed it in three gulps. “I still don’t understand why she’s staying with us and not Mr. Jenson.”

  “We’ve been through this before. We’re helping Rob out. Wanda and her husband fought, and her husband is staying at Rob’s until they go home or make up. Thank goodness they’re only here for another week.”

  “Mom, this is like her fifth husband. I don’t know anyone who’s been married so many times. If they’re not getting along, does that mean there’ll be a sixth?” Jenny’s bright blue eyes widened. “Can people be married that often?”

  “I’m sure they’ll patch things up.”

  Jenny selected an apple from the fruit bowl. “You’re such an optimist. See you later.” Her blonde ponytail swung behind her as she bounded out the door.

  I tossed Wanda’s untouched coffee into the sink and put the mug in the dishwasher. I’m going to kill that woman.

  I picked up my briefcase and stormed out. A seventy-plus woman with long gray hair waved to me from the back stoop of the house next door. “Howdy, neighbor! Some storm last night!”

  Taking a deep breath, I straightened my shoulders and strode to where she was standing. I held out my hand. “It was. We met the other week when you moved in, but with all the movers coming and going, I don’t know if you remember me, Meredith March. My friends call me Merry.”

  “Of course I remember you. Alex Danford.” She smiled and shook my hand. “It was crazy that day. It’s good to meet you officially.” She wore a shapeless dress that hung to mid-calf, and her feet looked comfortably ensconced in Birkenstocks.

  “I’m sorry that I haven’t been able to get to know you better, it’s been busy at work, and now I have a guest staying with me. I’ll bring some freshly baked muffins tomorrow to make it up to you.”

  “That sounds great. A word of warning, no nuts, please. I’m allergic. Just bang on the back door. It’s always open. I haven’t met that many people in town yet. Andy and Ed—” she pointed to the house beyond the alley—“came over the other day. They’re going to give me a party to rectify that.”

  “We’ll be there. Ed’s some cook. You’ll enjoy it.” I pointed to a new, ornate, structure in the far left corner of her backyard. It looked Victorian, black with steeples and clear window insets. “Is that a greenhouse? I saw the men assembling it last week.”

  She nodded. “It’s small, but it gets the job done. I like to putter in the garden. Whoever lived here before had a green thumb. I love all the plants.”

  “The woman who previously owned the house was a good friend and a great gardener.”

  “Her cousin told me what happened. It’s hard to believe your friend was murdered in such a lovely spot.” Alex whispered, “She said it happened in the kitchen.”

  “It did.” I shuddered. “It was sad, but at least they caught the person responsible. It’s safe now.”

  Alex motioned toward my briefcase. “I can see you’re on your way to work, so I won’t keep you. If you ever want a tour of the greenhouse, let me know. I’ve taken several people through.”

  “I’ll take you up on that. See you tomorrow morning.”

  I ambled toward downtown Hopeful. Some small tree limbs and shingles littered the yards of a few people, but those were the only remnants of the storm from the previous night. The daffodils were on their last gasp, and the hyacinths were almost fully open. Their sweet scent was almost overpowering. A warm southerly breeze caressed the hanging baskets of tulips lining Main Street. I made my way along the brick storefronts, turning in at the property and casualty insurance agency I owned, the Meredith March Insurance Agency. My assistant, Cheryl, greeted me with a warm smile. Her long blonde hair was swept into a professional bun. “Rob’s on the phone. He said he called your cell, but he wasn’t able to get through.”

  I pulled my phone from my purse and sighed. “I forgot to charge it last night. Not that it would have done much good with the power being out.”

  Cheryl took it from me. “I have your extra charger at my desk. How’s Rob’s mother?”

  “Not leaving soon enough.” I clasped my hand over my mouth. “I can’t believe I said that. Chalk it up to stress.” I walked into my office and pressed speaker. “Hi, Rob, what’s up?”

  “I miss you. And, Richard is driving me up a wall. If he smokes one more cigar inside, I’m going to throttle him. Did you lose power?”

  “For a little while. Something strange happened when I was checking the fuses—your mother came down to the basement to see what was happening, and when she left, the floor was damp. I didn’t hear the shower. How did she get wet?”

  “Did you ask her about it?”

  My jaw clenched. “No. I was distracted by her critique of the color of my hair and how I make coffee.” I sighed. “Scratch that. Your mother is a delightful guest.” I bit the inside of my cheek.

  He laughed. “I love my mother, but she can be demanding.”

  “Uh-huh.” I popped an antacid in my mouth.

  “You’re such a nice person, Merry March. I owe you one.” He paused. “This is nuts. They came to visit me, and now they’re inconveniencing you. Why don’t we all go out to dinner tonight and see if we can get them talking? I’ll give Mother a call and then let Richard know. I’ll text you the arrangements.”

  “Your mother will go crazy if the place doesn’t list calories on the menu. She wanted to know the count of everything I’ve made.”

  “I know the perfect spot. Love you.”

  “Love you too.” I hung up and did a few shoulder exercises to try and loosen my neck muscles. Rob Jenson was worth the temporary pain and suffering his mother was inflicting on me. And, if I were lucky, my annulment would come through, and I could marry him. But then Wanda would be my mother-in-law. I gulped, and my neck tensed all over again.

  Cheryl walked in with the day’s call list and pointed to the fifth name. “You may want to move this woman to the top of the list. She closed on her house, and she’s worried she won’t be covered.”

  “Okay. I’ll start with her. Anything else pressing?”

  “Quite a few people called with roof damage after that storm last night, but the staff has been handling those.”

  I doodled on my note pad. “It sounded like a freight train at times. Not to mention the thunder and lightning. I saw some limbs down on my way here. While it’s fresh in everyone’s minds, why don’t you send out a note advising people to clear out dead trees and branches from around their houses?” I picked up the phone and began my calls.

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  I hurried home to change. In short-order, Jenny, Wanda, and I were in the car and on our way to the restaurant. I turned on the radio to mask the strained silence. When we pulled into the parking lot, Rob and his stepfather, Richard Franco, were walking into Fiorella’s. Rob’s blond hair gleamed in the waning sunlight, and his mustache twitched as if Richard had told a joke. Richard waddled, his girth seeming to slow him. Richard was shorter than Rob and a few decades older. They waited for us in the lobby, which was brightly lit with warm wood tones.

  Richard leaned in for a kiss, but Wanda didn’t miss a beat. She walked right past him and followed the hostess to our table. My mouth dropped, and Rob’s eyebrow rose. Richard gave his phone a quick glance, but his shoulders sagged as he turned to follow. Rob went next, and Jenny and I brought up the rear. The hostess brought us to a round table covered by a white tablecloth, which had a small vase of sweet pea and roses as its centerpiece. I gave Jenny’s hand a quick squeeze. Rob motioned for her to sit on one side of him and his mother the other. Richard took the seat next to Wanda, and I sat between him and Jenny.

  Richard said, “It’s good to see you, Wanda. It’s been hard to be here without you.”

  Wanda leaned around Rob. “Jenny, why don’t you switch places with me?”

  Jenny grabbed my hand, but before I could intervene, Rob moved his chair closer to the table, effectively blocking his mother’s line of sight. “We’re adults; we shoul
d be able to have one civil meal together.”

  Wanda sniffed, “If you say so.” She picked up the menu. “Good. They have fish. And look, they list the calories. All places should do that.”

  “You look lovely as usual. All that discipline has paid off. I wish I could show some.” Richard patted his stomach.

  “It wouldn’t kill you to work out more.” Her eyebrow arched. “Or eat less.”

  Rob put down his menu. “Everyone can order what they want, and no one is going to criticize anyone else’s choices.” He turned to me. “Merry, anything interesting happen today?”

  “We had a few claims as a result of that storm last night.”

  “We were lucky it wasn’t as bad in town as it was east. I took a picture of a barn that had a tree sticking out of it. With the number of dead ash trees we have around here, we’re lucky more didn’t topple.” Rob unfolded his napkin onto his lap.

  The waitress came to take our orders. Wanda spoke first, “Salmon plain, lightly grilled. No sauce, no butter. And a side of spinach, again, no butter.”

  “Got it.”

  I really wanted the lasagna, but Wanda was staring right at me as I ordered. I kicked myself as I said, “Scallops please, with the broccoli.”

  Wanda piped up, “Surely, you want that cooked without butter.”

  I sighed. “No butter.”

  Jenny went next. “I’ll have the lasagna please.”

  Wanda coughed.

  “I play basketball and dance. I need the calories.”

  Rob smiled. “Yes, you do. How about splitting some garlic bread with me?”

  Jenny sat back in her chair. “Love to.”

  Richard ordered the stuffed shells.

  Dinner arrived, and I picked at my scallops. They would have tasted much better drenched in butter. Jenny’s lasagna looked fantastic. All bubbly and cheesy, the way I liked it. The garlic bread arrived and enveloped the table with a lovely aroma. Rob passed the basket, and I showed enormous willpower by only taking one slice.