by Carrie Marsh
The Deadly Jellybean Affair
Morhollow Sweet Tooth Cozy Murder Mysteries Series
Carrie Marsh
SMILING HOUSE PUBLISHING CO.
Contents
Copyright
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A Personal Note From Carrie Marsh
The Deadly Jellybean Affair
PROLOGUE
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CHAPTER ONE
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CHAPTER TWO
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CHAPTER THREE
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CHAPTER FOUR
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CHAPTER FIVE
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CHAPTER SIX
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CHAPTER SEVEN
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CHAPTER EIGHT
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CHAPTER NINE
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CHAPTER TEN
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CHAPTER ELEVEN
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CHAPTER TWELVE
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CHAPTER THIRTEEN
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CHAPTER FOURTEEN
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CHAPTER FIFTEEN
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CHAPTER SIXTEEN
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CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
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CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
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CHAPTER NINETEEN
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CHAPTER TWENTY
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CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
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CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
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CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
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CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
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CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
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EPILOGUE
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PREVIEW OF BOOK 1 - DINING WITH THE DEAD
PREVIEW OF BOOK 2 - COOKING WITH THE DEAD
PREVIEW OF BOOK 3 - PAYING BACK THE DEAD
PREVIEW OF BOOK 4 - THE DEAD AMONG US
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
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Also By Carrie Marsh
Acknowledgement
If You Have Enjoyed This Book…
Publisher’s Notes
Copyright © 2017 by CARRIE MARSH & SMILING HOUSE PUBLISHING CO.
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. It contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This book is a work of fiction. Any similarities to real or dead people, places, or events are not intentional and are the result of coincidence. The characters, places, and events are the product of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior written permission from the author/publisher. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
Cover designed by Ms Melody Simmons. Author has the copyrights to this cover.
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A PERSONAL NOTE
FROM CARRIE MARSH
To My Dearest Lovely Readers,
“The Deadly Jellybean Affair” is my first book of this new series I am working on, “Morhollow Sweet Tooth Coat Murder Mysteries Series”. This series will be completely cozy mysteries. This series will focus on the elderly Mary Tuttle and how she solve complex murder mysteries with her domestic cat and her near-forgotten spells-binding abilities. Sounds intrigued? Read on…
They can be read and enjoyed in any order. I’ve made sure not to include any spoilers for those you who are new to the characters.
You will have plenty of fresh action and mystery, as well as a little background story on some of the major characters in Mary’s universe. All in all, there is something for everyone.
I had squeezed out every single creative juice on my brain creating this book - I hope you will have a great time reading it too.
With Hugs, Kisses and Love…
THE DEADLY JELLYBEAN AFFAIR
Morhollow Sweet Tooth Cozy Murder Mysteries Series
by
CARRIE MARSH
and
Smiling House Publishing Co.
PROLOGUE
PROLOGUE
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Tuttle.” The doctor who stood in front of Mary in the waiting room wore turquoise-colored scrubs, his shoes had white shower cap-type covers over them.
Mary looked up at him. Doctor Stone had been highly recommended. His hawk-like features gave him an authority she trusted. Even now. Even when he was telling her something that she didn’t quite understand.
“What?” Mary studied Doctor Stone’s lips as they moved. She stood straight and squared her shoulders, as if she were getting ready to throw a punch. The kindest, most gentle woman in Morhollow, Vermont, who wouldn’t swat a fly, was ready to haul back and slap this man in front of her for pulling such a sick joke.
“Ward’s passed. He didn’t survive the heart attack.” The doctor was as animated as a chalkboard. Mary surmised that he had to act that way when delivering horrible news to people in the middle of the waiting room of Saint Joseph’s hospital, with the nurses’ station buzzing around, people getting on and off the elevator. A man had to maintain a certain level of decorum. “We did everything we could.”
The urge to start throwing things bubbled up inside Mary. Her breathing started to rattle her chest and she was suddenly afraid that she might have an attack herself. However, her son’s hand on her shoulder drained everything from her.
“Mom.” Deputy Sheriff Andrew Tuttle sniffled. He slipped his strong arm around his mom to help keep her on her feet.
She turned to her son. He had always favored his father. “What could I have done, Andrew? Why didn’t I do something?” Mary mumbled. When Ward had talked about feeling so tired, she was sure all he needed was to leave the office at the office and get a few hours of sleep. Like a normal person would.
The gift of sight was just one of her many talents. Growing up with witch’s blood coursing through her veins gave her an edge. Nevertheless, Ward had asked her not to use it. He wasn’t embarrassed of her. He was fearful for her.
“You couldn’t have done anything, Mom.” Andrew tried to soothe as his voice choked.
Andrew didn’t know what his mother meant. He had no idea that his mother was a witch. It was part of her life that she had suppressed for her entire marriage. Ward hadn’t forced her to abandon that part of her life. He wasn’t that kind of man. She chose to leave it behind in order to live a “normal” life. Normal meant no more tea readings or spell casting or spirit conjuring. The only capacity she kept was her ability to talk with familiars. However, a lot of good discussing this with her cat did her right now.
“You will need to visit the administrative office in order to get your effects in order. Please take your time. They will be able to help you with questions.” Doctor Stone turned and walked back down the corridor he had emerged from. He’d be having lunch in about half an hour.
Had she consulted the tea leaves when Ward first fell under the weather, perhaps she would have seen this coming. There had to have been an empathic spell or concoctio
n she could have given him to subdue the fatigue or even ease the pain.
The memory of that horrible day almost two years ago had lain dormant for the duration of the most recent stint of cold weather. Now that spring was here, the budding trees and bright yellow tulips had brought with them a feeling of promise and change.
As Mary Tuttle sat in the office of Billy Swan, the landlord of the new storefront she’d be leasing, her eyes filled with tears. He was older than Mary by at least a decade, putting a cap of gray over his entire head instead of just at the temples.
“Are you all right, Mrs. Tuttle?” Billy asked, the concern making his eyes widen.
“Yes, Billy.” She sniffed and quickly wiped away a stray tear from the corner of her left eye. “Just wishing my husband could be here, that’s all.”
“Well, I’m sure he’s looking down on you and smiling, Mrs. Tuttle.” Billy replied, taking the document she had just signed from in front of her. “Congratulations. Here are the keys to your store.”
Mary took them from Billy and looked at them. They jingled happily as she carefully attached them to her car and house keychain.
“I wish you the best of luck, Mrs. Tuttle.”
“Thank you, honey. We’ll just have to see what happens.”
Billy walked over to the door of his office and held it open for Mary. “What did you say the name of your store was going to be?”
“Beads and Baubles.” Mary replied, smiling.
CHAPTER ONE
BIRDWATCHING
BIRDWATCHING
“Well, I don’t know why she’d wear a dress like that,” Mary Tuttle huffed as she brought her right wrist up almost to her chin while swinging her left fist far behind her.
“I’ll tell you why she did,” Grace Deitz scolded. “Because she’s a tramp.” Her strides matched Mary’s as they made their way down the jogging/bicycle path that wove through Piltcher Park.
Mary and Grace enjoyed their daily gossip session among the trees and birds every morning. Grace, who had a love affair with leopard print and never set foot outside her home without a full face of makeup, including drawn-on eyebrows and bright red lips, was fit to be tied over the outfit Mrs. Velma Henried had worn the night before.
“Grace, Velma has got to be at least ten years older than me, and that would put her near sixty-seven years old,” Mary argued. “Does the term tramp even apply at that age and after three husbands?” Mary tapped her sunglasses up her nose as they picked up their pace to ascend the slight bump called Poe’s Hill.
“In Velma Henried’s case it does apply. You don’t wear sequins to a funeral even if they are black. Call me old fashioned. You just don’t do it.” Grace shook her head. “You know how many widowers there were at that funeral home? I’m completely on to her.”
“I’m sorry I left early,” Mary sighed. “I thought I had seen it all when the recently deceased’s brother, Hal, brought in four cases of White Castles. The last thing I wanted to be around was a bunch of mourners with “sliders” passing through their lower intestines.”
Grace burst out laughing, making Mary smile. They settled down for a moment and took a few deep breaths. The sun was shining just over the tree line, bringing a bright blue morning sky with it. When the ladies had first left their front porches to make the journey to the walking path, they could see their breath as they spoke but not anymore. It had warmed a good bit as they went over the details of the passing of one of Morhollow’s most beloved citizens, Hank Jewels. Actually, Hank wasn’t beloved; he was just the mayor of Morhollow up until he was eighty-nine years old, running unopposed for all those years.
“Well, I’m sure Hank was looking down at the whole wake and thinking… why the heck is Velma Henried wearing sequins? And where is Mary Tuttle going without taking one White Castle burger to make my brother Hal feel better?”
“Yes, I’m sure that is what he’s thinking.” Mary rolled her eyes.
“So, I’ve wasted enough time distracting you from the inevitable tomorrow. Tell me.” Grace gently elbowed her friend. “Are you excited?”
Mary smiled but wasn’t sure how to answer her friend’s question.
“I’m very nervous. What if I’ve made a mistake?”
“Nonsense.” Grace clicked her tongue. “Your husband, Ward, God rest his soul, left you that money so you can live your life. How many years have we known each other and you always talked about owning a little shop to sell beads and have classes for beginners and all that artsy crafty stuff?”
“You and I have been around the block, I’ll say that.” Mary’s voice was dry.
“Right?” Grace pulled the visor of her leopard-spotted baseball cap down slightly. “I have a feeling about this. Trust me when I tell you Beads and Baubles will be a huge success. You couldn’t have picked a better location.”
“You mean, right next to that sinful bakery that has the most delicious chocolate éclairs on the planet? The place owned by that weird couple named Deitz with their weird children?”
Grace started to laugh and hugged Mary around the shoulder affectionately.
“With all the art festivals and creative types in Morhollow, I’m surprised there hasn’t been any…” Grace gasped and pointed. “Stop!” She pointed into a high branch of a lace bark pine tree.
Mary froze and looked where Grace was pointing while Grace slowly retrieved miniature binoculars from her jacket pocket.
“A golden-fronted woodpecker. Isn’t he beautiful?” Grace gushed and then handed the binoculars over to Mary, who removed her sunglasses, squinted and looked in the direction she had just seen Grace look.
“He is a beaut. Do you normally see these this time of year?” Mary had very little knowledge about the bird population in Morhollow, Vermont but Grace, on the other hand, was an avid bird-watcher. Her backyard was an obstacle course of standing and floating birdhouses and feeders that attracted all kinds of feathery visitors.
“Yes.” Grace pulled out a small journal from her sweat suit pocket and began to write the day and time of the golden-fronted woodpecker spotting. “In fact, this is the time you usually see them the most, except that they have a tendency to blend in with the fall colors so they can easily be missed.”
“He is pretty.” Mary handed back the binoculars. With as much stealth as a great white shark, Grace inched her way closer to the tree the bird perched upon. Moving in a heel-to-toe-heel-to-toe fashion, she barely disturbed the leaves and dried branches that covered the ground while she kept her prize in sight.
“I’m going to try and get a picture,” Grace whispered loudly, withdrawing a cell phone from her other pocket. Mary watched with all the patience in the world. Unlike her friend, Mary was always forgetting her phone or losing her house keys. She rarely drove so her car keys were often left on the hook by her front door even as she’d be leaving to go drive somewhere. But Grace had picked up something taking her three boys to Boy Scouts all those years as they were growing up. Always be prepared.
Within seconds of pointing the phone, Grace had gotten the picture.
“Oh, this is great.” Grace looked at the picture. Looking up, she observed the bird a little longer before it decided it had had enough of the paparazzi and flew away. “Can you believe our luck?” Grace asked and then stopped.
Mary watched Grace as she peered into the foliage at the bottom of the tree.
“Do you see something else?” Mary asked, carefully coming to her friend’s side.
“What is that?” Grace pointed. “Is that a mannequin?”
Mary saw the bone-white object laying at the foot of an oak about twenty yards from the path. It did indeed look like a mannequin arm and torso.
“Who would lug that thing all the way out here to dump it in the park?” Grace shook her head. “If you’re going to litter, do it off the highway like normal people. Don’t make a special trip to the park. Jeez.”
“I don’t think that is a mannequin.” Mary’s words felt like they weighed twen
ty pounds rolling off her tongue.
Grace looked again. Before she could say another word, Mary was warily walking toward the form.
“Bring me your binoculars,” Mary called to Grace, who nodded and walked almost in Mary’s exact steps to get to her. Taking the binoculars, she raised them to her eyes and adjusted the focus. “Oh, Lord.” She huffed. “That isn’t a mannequin at all.”
“What is it?” Grace mumbled, not sure she really wanted to hear what her friend was going to say.
“That’s Summer Moran.” Mary lowered the binoculars and stared in the body’s direction.
“Summer Moran? From town?” Grace raised the binoculars to her own eyes and tried to see the face. “How can you tell? I can’t see a face. She’s turned in the other way.”
“There is a tattoo on that arm.” Mary pointed. “I’d recognize that tacky thing anywhere.” She took several smaller steps closer.
“I’ve seen Summer in town but I never noticed any tattoos.” Grace shook her head. “But then again I never paid much attention to her or anyone in their twenties. My gosh, what do you think happened?”
“I don’t know,” Mary whispered. Looking over her head, she noticed a branch from another tree draped like a canopy directly over the body. “Give me one second.”
Mary walked over to the trunk of the tree about six feet away from the body. Without saying a word, she climbed into the “V” where the trunk split in two and carefully scooted herself down the thick branch that hovered over Summer Moran.
With binoculars still in her hand, she raised them to her eyes and looked over the body.
“Mary Tuttle. I say this with nothing but love but you are too old to be climbing trees,” Grace harassed her. “What do you see?”
“Not much. She’s mostly covered with branches and stuff. I don’t think it was a robbery or anything like that.”