Weddings & Weapons

by Laina Turner

  Weddings & Weapons

  A Presley Thurman Cozy Mystery

  Laina Turner

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  Laina

  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

  Thanks for Reading

  About the Author

  Also by Laina Turner Website

  Copyright © 2019 by Laina Turner

  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 written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Chapter 1

  Standing in my room, I surveyed the piles of clothes on my bed trying to narrow down what to pack. I was horrible at packing. I inevitably packed too much, didn’t wear half of it, and then regretted it because I was stuck lugging an extra heavy suitcase around. But how was a person to know in advance what they wanted to wear or what the weather was going to be like? You certainly couldn’t trust the weatherman, best job ever in my opinion, because no one expected them to be right. My outfit each day depended largely on my mood and I never knew in advance what my mood was going to be. The thought of wanting a certain look and not having it was way more stressful than packing too much. And if there was one thing I didn’t need in my life, that was more stress. The main reason I was packing to get out of town, was to try to regroup and re-energize; and most importantly, de-stress.

  I was exhausted. Completely and utterly exhausted and I needed a break.

  My name is Presley Thurman. I’m a thirty something red-headed lover of food, wine, and lattes, which is why I’d never be model thin. I was also the owner of a high-end boutique in Chicago called Silk, which was the recent cause of my stress. I’d taken over Silk when it was failing, scared but confident at the prospect of being able to get it back to its former glory, and even more importantly; back to being a profitable business.

  The road to that goal hadn’t been easy. For every step forward I took two, or ten, steps back. At least, that’s what it seemed. I’d already been working a crazy amount of hours when my best friend Katy, who was helping me get things off the ground, had to return home to finalize the sale of her hair salon. Of course, it was absolutely the right thing to do, but it had left me without enough employees to cover the sales floor and I didn’t want to take the chance of even one customer not being helped. I prided myself on the great customer service at Silk and, with our wealthy clientele, that was no easy feat. Many of my clients gave new meaning to the phrase high maintenance, but I’d learned quickly when you could meet, and even better surpass, their expectations they would keep coming back. I’d been working more than I’d ever thought possible to keep the store afloat. Don’t get me wrong. It was worth it. I loved my store, but I’d started to wonder how much longer I could keep up this pace without getting totally burned out, which is why I jumped at the chance to get away even though it probably wasn’t the optimal time to leave Silk. But then I wasn’t sure if there ever would be a good time. A friend had told me when I bought Silk that being a business owner was like having a baby and he wasn’t kidding. I thought, and worried, about the place constantly.

  I’d recently hired a sales manager, freeing me up to take care of the business side of things and keeping hot new merchandise in the store, the part that I loved most. I knew I needed to try and let go a little, delegating more to my team. It felt like it took forever, but finally I had an awesome staff. Molly, my new sales manager, had already proven herself to me. She had a great work ethic and was smart. The customers loved her, the staff loved her, I loved her. I felt she was a perfect fit for Silk. I was lucky to have found her. But as great as I thought she was, I still found it hard to let go.

  I zipped up my final suitcase and pulled it off the bed to stand upright on its wheels next to my other one, leaving a pile of unchosen clothes on the bed to deal with when I got home. I knew I’d regret leaving a mess a week from now when I was back and didn’t feel like dealing with them then either, but I didn’t care right now. I just wanted to be on my way.

  I’d planned to leave Chicago at a time when traffic wouldn’t be crazy and I hoped the traffic in Milwaukee wasn’t too bad either so I wouldn’t have to spend hours in a car on a barely moving highway. There was nothing as frustrating as driving yet getting nowhere or having to pee when you were stuck in between exits.

  Luck was with me and I hit Milwaukee at the perfect time, zipping right through the city. One of these days I wanted to spend some time exploring Milwaukee. It was so close to Chicago, but often us Chicagoans didn’t think any other city had much value, since ours of course was the best, so we didn’t pay much attention to what other cities had to offer. But from what I’d seen from the highway, it looked beautiful. I saw several old buildings I’d like to get a closer look at.

  It didn’t take long before I made it to my destination and pulled into the driveway of my home for the week, tires crunching on the gravel; I parked in front of the garage and shut the car off. Happy to get out and stretch my legs, I stared at the beautiful house in front of me. This vacation was a gift from one of my customers who owned the house and used it as a rental property. They’d had a last-minute cancelation and didn’t offer refunds so she’d offered me the place free for a week. I’d offered to pay her something, but she refused and I’d jumped at the chance to get away without blowing my budget. I’d looked it up online and it was more for a week stay here than six months of payments on my condo and I lived in Chicago. Even though I’d bought my condo at a steal, it still wasn’t cheap. This vacation was not in my price range even if Silk was doing well. And I could see why. This place was gorgeous.

  From the front walk I could see there was a huge deck off the back with a hot tub, lounge chairs and tables, and it surrounded a large in-ground pool. The deck came around the house at an angle, and since it wasn’t directly behind the house it gave the appearance of being much larger than it was. Gorgeous flowers were strategically planted all over and the colors were amazing.

  The exterior of this massive home was stone in all different shades of grey. I couldn’t even imagine how much it cost, but the effect was unbelievable. There were shades of grey I hadn’t even seen before. Who knew stone could be so pretty.

  I walked up to the front door and dug around in my purse to find the keys Sheryl had given me. I unlocked the oversized wooden door and it swung open. The inside of the house, at least what I could see from the foyer, was as amazing as the outside.

  Dark mahogany floors and matching wide crown moldings gave it such a warm, elegant feel. I loved the way dark wood looked. Even more so when it was weathered like this. It had that lived-in feel. The house had been built in the early 1900s and, from what the website said, it was still mostly original. To think of these floors being here for over a hundred years, it was hard to fathom. I walked down the hall, which opened to the biggest kitchen I’d ever seen. I wasn’t a big cook, but I was jealous of this kitchen. I could easily imagine parties with people hanging out, enjoying each other’s company.

  I don’t think I’d ever seen an island as bi
g as the one I was looking at. It was a gorgeous slab of cream and silver granite that would have taken up every inch of space in my kitchen. The kitchen had obviously been updated in the last hundred years since there were some things you just couldn’t live without. Like a microwave. Give me a bag of popcorn and I could call it dinner.

  As my eyes roved around the kitchen I spotted something that was possibly the best thing I’d ever seen. An espresso machine housed in a cabinet that had what looked like a regular wine rack built in but instead of wine, it was filled with flavored syrups. It was a coffee addict’s dream come true.

  Then I noticed bottles of wine in a wine refrigerator that also seemed to be fully stocked, as I looked through the glass door. Coffee, wine, this place had everything. I might not leave the house all week. What would be the point? I had everything I ever wanted right here.

  As much as I wanted to open one of the bottles and take a glass of wine down for a walk on the beach, I knew I needed to make myself bring everything in and unpack and get myself somewhat settled. Then I could relax.

  I made quick work of it, a walk on the beach was a great incentive, and thirty minutes later I was headed down to the beach with a travel coffee mug full of wine. Not the classiest thing, but I didn’t want my wine to get warm or attract bugs so a container with a lid made the most sense.

  I walked about a half mile down the beach, quietly enjoying the sun and the sand. Later I had Chinese food delivered. Starving, I scarfed most of it down and put the leftovers in the fridge. That was the nice thing about most Chinese restaurants. The food was plentiful and inexpensive, and it always tasted better the next day.

  Stuffed and tired from the walk, I lay down for a quick nap, and woke to the sun setting. A perfect time for another walk I thought, grabbing a light sweater in case it was chilly by the water.

  I walked in silence, something there wasn’t a lot of in Chicago, enjoying the beautiful night, when I spotted something off in the water just a few feet out where it was still shallow. It looked like it might be an interesting piece of driftwood.

  Curious, I took a couple steps towards whatever it was and got close enough to see what was floating in the water. It wasn’t driftwood. Shaking, I pulled out my cell phone and dialed 911 as I stared at the body of a man who was clearly beyond saving.

  Thirty minutes later, I was leaning against a police cruiser wrapped up in a blanket someone had handed me. Despite the warm temperature of the air, and my sweater, I was still chilled to the bone.

  The EMT’s were now loading the body, which had been placed in a body bag, on a stretcher. They hadn’t even tried any heroic measures to revive him. He was way beyond that. I could figure that much out without being a doctor by the lifeless stare in his milky eyes and the unnatural pallor of his skin. I shivered a little, despite the blanket, thinking about what I’d seen. It would take a while to get that image out of my head.

  I knew the police needed to talk to me. They’d said as much when they’d asked me to wait. I just wished they’d hurry. I wanted to go back to the house and crawl into bed and try to forget this happened. Start over tomorrow.

  As if he’d heard my thoughts, one of the policemen walked over to me.

  “I’m Sheriff Ted Travis. I’m really sorry you came upon this, but I was hoping to ask you a few questions while things are still fresh in your mind.”

  He looked at me as if to see if I was willing. Like I had a choice in the matter. I sighed. I shouldn’t be mad at him. I knew he had a job to do. “Sure.”

  The Sheriff pulled a notepad and pen out from his pocket. “Can you tell me what happened?”

  “I was walking on the beach and I spotted something in the water. I thought it was driftwood or something and I walked out in the water to get a closer look. That’s when I realized what it was and called 911.”

  “Ok. Did you know the deceased?” His brow furrowed and, despite the circumstances he seemed nice. Brown hair. A face that might be considered plain if it weren’t for his dark brown eyes, which seemed warm and inviting. Something told me he was a good listener and probably didn’t lack for female companionship.

  I shook my head. “I’m not from here. Just here for the week, staying at that house over there,” I said and pointed. “I arrived earlier today from Chicago.”

  He wrote something down before pausing to ask the next question.

  “Had you ever seen him before?” His deep voice was very soothing. Perfect for someone in his profession. I was already starting to relax a little. Wonder if he used this calm manner to put suspects at ease and get them to confess.

  “I just got here this afternoon and haven’t left the house except to walk on the beach.”

  “So, you hadn’t noticed anyone walking on the beach earlier today or anything that seemed out of place?”

  “Like I said, I just got here this afternoon,” I repeated.

  “Hmm. Ok.”

  “Is he a local?” I asked.

  Sheriff Travis looked at me curiously. “No,” he finally said. “He’s not from around here.”

  “Was he murdered? Should I be worried? Am I in danger?”

  “I don’t think you have anything to worry about. We’re quiet around here most of the time. I’m sure this is an isolated incident.”

  “Doesn’t that almost make it less safe if this is out of the norm?” I asked.

  “I wouldn’t worry. Can I get your phone number in case something else comes up?” he said.

  I gave him my number and he gave me his card and offered to drive me back to the house, but I declined. I thought the walk would do me good, but in the short distance to the house, I jumped at every little sound. Maybe I should have taken him up on his offer. I was much more rattled than I’d originally thought.

  So much for a quiet, relaxing vacation. I’d been here less than twenty-four hours and already was off to a rocky start. I couldn’t get the image of the dead body out of my head. Nor the bullet hole I’d seen in the victim’s temple. This had been no accident, there was a murderer on the loose.

  Chapter 2

  I woke up with a start and groaned when I saw the time. I’d only fell asleep an hour ago. My heart was pounding the way it does when you awake from a sound sleep and are scared but aren’t sure why and the adrenalin is rushing through your body at a furious pace. I closed my eyes again and tried to relax so I could fall back asleep and then I heard it. A noise. That must be what woke me up the first time. Trying to slow my pounding heart, I heard it again. It sounded like a door flapping in the wind. I bet I forgot to latch the screen door when I came in last night from the deck.

  Well, I certainly wasn’t going to get back to sleep with that banging so I got out of bed to close it. I sighed, sat up and grabbed my robe because once I tossed off the covers I felt chilly. It had been very warm all day, but the temperature had significantly dropped and right now, in the middle of the night, it was cold. Probably the breeze coming in from the lake. I shouldn’t have left the window open, but when I went to bed it was so gorgeous out I wanted to be able to smell the fresh air. I walked across the room, shut the window, and then headed downstairs to the kitchen. I checked the screen that went out to the deck and sure enough it was wide open. I felt a little nervous. Anyone could have walked in and while I was sure violent crime wasn’t rampant in a small town such as this one, tonight had me on edge because someone had been murdered not far from here. Leaving a door unlocked wasn’t a good idea.

  Walking back into the kitchen, I was wide awake and not sure I’d be falling back asleep anytime soon so I decided to make some hot cocoa and sit out on the back deck. Enjoy the sound of the waves on the beach. It wasn’t often I had the chance to sit outside in the middle of the night and enjoy the peace and quiet. Chicago was too noisy.

  Putting the cup in the microwave to heat up the water, I went over to the pantry where I had put the snacks I’d brought from home and grabbed a few Oreos. I knew I shouldn’t have brought junk food on this tr
ip. I had no will power and cookies were the last thing I needed. But calories didn’t count after a traumatic experience or in the middle of the night, did they? Luckily, I had justification for all things bad for me.

  I grabbed my steaming cup of cocoa, my handful of Oreos, and slid the patio door open. Shutting it behind me with my elbow, once I stepped through, I took a seat on one of the oversized Adirondack chairs. Thinking I should have brought out a blanket, I hoped the hot drink would keep me toasty enough.

  This was the life. Not necessarily being up at two am or finding a dead body. I could live without those things happening, but rather the quiet, serene, beauty of this area. I loved Chicago and the hustle and energy of the city, but there was something to be said about taking a break from the constant frenetic pace to truly relax and reflect. The past few months had been some of the hardest I’ve ever encountered with the store. Cooper, my boyfriend, had been traveling for months and I’d only seen him a couple of times in that duration and very briefly at that. The long-distance relationship thing was getting tougher and tougher. We both felt the strain but were determined to try and make it work. I wanted to hold on to the hope that his travel would slow down and he could spend more time in Chicago. It’s what we both wanted.

  The last few months, with how hard things had been at the store, I’d been second guessing my decision to buy it in the first place. It was hard to keep pursuing a dream that was seemingly so impossible to get off the ground. Was it worth it? That’s why I’d come here even though I couldn’t afford to be away from the store. I needed to think about what I wanted and what price I was willing to pay. I loved my business and I loved Cooper. I felt this constant tug of war between things that I wanted out of life. And at the end of the day, weren’t relationships more important than work?