Railroaded 4 Murder
Page 1
Praise for the Books of J. C. Eaton:
“Fans who like their mysteries with a healthy dose of humor will enjoy Eaton’s latest comedy of errors.”
—Kirkus Reviews on Broadcast 4 Murder
“A thoroughly entertaining series debut, with enjoyable yet realistic characters and enough plot twists—and dead ends—to appeal from beginning to end.”
—Booklist, Starred Review, on Booked 4 Murder
“You’ll chuckle all the way through this delightful romp through Sun City West, as Phee and her mother unravel the mystery behind the sudden deaths of several book club members. It’s so cleverly written, you won’t guess the perpetrators until the very end.”
—Mary Marks, award-winning author of the Quilting Mystery series on Booked 4 Murder
“Filled with clues that make you go ‘Huh?’ and a list of potential subjects that range from the charming to the witty to the intense. Readers root for Phee as she goes up against a killer who may not stop until Phee is taken out well before her time. Enjoy this laugh-out-loud funny mystery that will make you scream for the authors to get busy on the next one.”
—Suspense Magazine on Molded 4 Murder
“Sophie ‘Phee’ Kimball has a lot on her plate in this captivating whodunit, but this feisty, take-charge heroine is definitely up for the challenge. Fun characters, a touch of humor, and a great mystery, the perfect combination for a cozy.”
—Lena Gregory, author of The All-Day Breakfast Café on Ditched 4 Murder
“This novel is a perfect blend of suspense and fun!”
—Carlene O’Neil, author of the Cypress Cove Mysteries on Chardonnayed to Rest
Also by J. C. Eaton
The Sophie Kimball Mysteries
Broadcast 4 Murder
Dressed Up 4 Murder
Molded 4 Murder
Botched 4 Murder
Staged 4 Murder
Ditched 4 Murder
Booked 4 Murder
The Wine Trail Mysteries
From Port to Rigor Morte
Death, Dismay and Rosé
Divide and Concord
Sauvigone for Good
Pinot Red or Dead?
Chardonnayed to Rest
A Riesling to Die
Railroaded 4 Murder
J.C. Eaton
www.kensingtonbooks.com
All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.
Table of Contents
Praise for the Books of J. C. Eaton:
Also by
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication and Acknowledgments
Cast of Characters:
CHAPTER 1 - Office of Sophie Kimball, Williams Investigations, Glendale, Arizona
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
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
CHAPTER 29
CHAPTER 30
CHAPTER 31
CHAPTER 32
CHAPTER 33
CHAPTER 34
CHAPTER 35
CHAPTER 36
CHAPTER 37
CHAPTER 38
CHAPTER 39
STREETMAN’S WALKING MAP
Teaser chapter
KENSINGTON BOOKS are published by
Kensington Publishing Corp.
119 West 40th Street
New York, NY 10018
Copyright © 2021 by J. C. Eaton
Streetman’s Map created by Rhys Davies exclusively for J.C. Eaton and used with the artist’s permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
To the extent that the image or images on the cover of this book depict a person or persons, such person or persons are merely models, and are not intended to portray any character or characters featured in the book.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the Publisher and neither the Author nor the Publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”
The K logo is a trademark of Kensington Publishing Corp.
ISBN: 978-1-4967-2457-1
ISBN: 978-1-4967-2460-1 (ebook)
Dedication and Acknowledgments
This book is dedicated to the Sun City West Model Railroad Club and the Rhythm Tappers
Keep chugging and tapping!
We’d like to give special thanks to the members of the Sun City West Model Railroad Club for taking the time to explain all the fascinating things about running model trains. We are in awe! And a very special shout-out to President Bob Rose and Choo-Choo Chick extraordinaire, Bev Rose.
We are extremely grateful to our incredible support team of readers and tech wizards. We could not do this without you. Susan Morrow, Gale Leach, Larry Finkelstein (U.S.), Susan Schwartz (Australia), you are phenomenal!
Without our amazing agent, Dawn Dowdle, from Blue Ridge Literary Agency, none of this would be possible. If only we had half your energy!
Indeed, we are genuinely appreciative of Elizabeth May, our editor at Kensington Publishing, and Rebecca Cre-monese, our production editor. Thanks, Elizabeth and Rebecca, for your dedication and commitment to our novels.
Our publicist, Larissa Ackerman, works tirelessly to ensure we have readers. Boy, are we ever in your debt!
And to the staff at Kensington, a tremendous thanks. From the editors to the art department, you dazzle us every step of the way.
Finally, we thank you, our readers, for bringing our quirky, looney characters into your lives!
Cast of Characters:
Protagonist:
Sophie (Phee) Kimball, forty-something bookkeeper/ accountant from Mankato, Minnesota, turned amateur sleuth.
The Sun City West, Arizona, Book Club Ladies:
Harriet Plunkett, seventy-something, Phee’s mother and book club organizer. Owner of a neurotic Chiweenie named Streetman.
Shirley Johnson, seventy-something, retired milliner and teddy bear maker.
Cecilia Flanagan, seventy-something, devout churchgoer and more modest than most nuns. Sneaks off holy water when needed.
Lucinda Espinoza, seventy-something, attends Cecilia’s church and translates Telemundo soap operas for the club.
Myrna Mittleson, seventy-something former New Yorker and aspiring bocce player with a penchant for self-defense weapons.
Louise Munson, seventy-something avid bird lover and owner of precocious African gray parrot.
Ina Melinsky, Harriet’s sister and Phee’s aunt. Married to saxophone player and gambler, Louis Melinsky. More eccentric than Lady Gaga and Andy Warhol combined. Seventy-something, but don’t tell her that.
The Sun City West, Arizona, Pinochle Crew:
H
erb Garrett, Harriet’s neighbor and pinochle crew organizer, seventy-something.
Bill Sanders, seventy-something bocce player.
Wayne, seventy-something, carpenter, jack of all trades.
Kevin, seventy-something.
Kenny, seventy-something, married.
Williams Investigations in Glendale, Arizona:
Nate Williams, sixties, owner, retired detective from the Mankato, Minnesota, Police Department.
Marshall Gregory, forties, partner and retired detective from the Mankato, Minnesota, Police Department, Phee’s fiancé.
Augusta Hatch, secretary and Wisconsin transplant from a tool and die company, sixty-something. As quick with a canasta hand as she is with her Smith & Wesson.
Maricopa County Sheriff’s Office:
Deputy Bowman, fiftyish, grizzly in looks and personality.
Deputy Ranston, fiftyish, somewhat toadish in looks and personality.
Sun City West Residents:
Cindy Dolton, sixty- or seventy-something, local community gossip and dog park aficionado.
Gloria Wong, sixties or seventies, Harriet’s former neighbor.
Paul Schmidt, seventies, avid fisherman and radio show host.
Friends and Family:
Kalese Kimball, twenties, Phee’s daughter from her first marriage. Teacher in St. Cloud, Minnesota.
Lyndy Ellsworth, forties, Phee’s friend. Works for a medical billing company in the area.
CHAPTER 1
Office of Sophie Kimball, Williams Investigations, Glendale, Arizona
Ugh. Another phone call from my mother during my break time.
“Of course you can get him into the Glendale City Hall,” she said. “He’s a service dog.”
It was a good thing I swallowed my last bite of a donut before hearing my mother’s comment or I would have choked to death. “A service dog? Have you gone bonkers? Streetman is anything but!”
“Well, he’ll be performing a service, won’t he? He’ll be carrying your wedding rings in a pretty little gauze bag and bringing them down the aisle or whatever setup they have for a civil ceremony.”
Not if Marshall and I have anything to say about it. “Look, Mom, I’ve got to get back to work. My break is almost over. And the wedding isn’t until June. The end of June, to be precise. That’s three months from now. We wanted to make sure Kalese will be done teaching so she can fly in from St. Cloud.”
“My granddaughter would want Streetman at the ceremony. She adores that dog.”
“Look, I know you have your heart set on having him take part in the wedding, but maybe we can bring him back a doggy bag or something from the reception. Besides, you know how that neurotic little Chiweenie gets around people. He’ll either duck under the seats, grab someone’s sweater and refuse to let go, or, worse yet, lift his leg on the podium.”
“He’s making progress, Phee. He now stands on his rear legs and does this adorable little doggy dance to get treats. Or when he hears music on the radio or TV. He’s improving every day. He just needs some time.”
And a refill of his doggy Xanax . . . “I’ll keep that in mind. Talk to you later.”
No sooner had I hung up the phone when Augusta, our secretary, leaned against the doorjamb to my office. “I wasn’t eavesdropping. Honest. But you did get a bit loud. Especially the bonkers part. Don’t tell me. Your mother wants the dog to be in the wedding party?”
I groaned. “It’s not a wedding party. It’s a simple civil ceremony for family and friends, followed by a nice luncheon at the Renaissance Hotel in Glendale. And yes. She does. She wants the dog to participate. And worse yet, if I relent and say yes, she’ll get her friend Shirley to design an outfit for him that would put Lady Gaga’s designers to shame.”
“Maybe you and Marshall could elope or something. Vegas is nice that time of year.”
“Trust me. We thought of that, but she’d only follow us, along with that book club of hers. Anyway, I need to get back to these spreadsheets. The accounts aren’t going to reconcile themselves.”
Augusta chuckled and walked back to the outer office. She and I comprised half of the four-person team at Williams Investigations, about twenty miles northwest of Phoenix and a stone’s throw from my mother’s community of Sun City West, Arizona.
My boss, Nate Williams, was a retired detective from the Mankato, Minnesota, Police Department, where I had worked in accounts receivable. A few years ago, I’d gotten a good taste of Sun City West when my mother and the book club ladies became convinced they were reading a cursed book responsible for a series of unexplained deaths. Tired of listening to her histrionics, I flew out west to see what was going on and, within minutes, found myself embroiled in murder and mayhem. Not to mention gossip, exaggeration, and downright wackiness. But that wasn’t the worst of it—Streetman, my mother’s dog, was.
When one of her friends went into assisted living, she rehomed the litter guttersnipe and proceeded to spoil him like nobody’s business. The dog came with a litany of behavioral issues, but none of that mattered to Harriet Plunkett. As far as she was concerned, Streetman was her little prince. Go figure.
Then there was my mother’s Booked 4 Murder book club, where the gossip and innuendo traveled faster than the speed of light. I vowed not to return anytime soon, but Nate made me the proverbial “offer I couldn’t refuse” to relocate to Arizona and handle his bookkeeping and accounting. Using the old what-have-you-got-to-lose? ploy, he convinced me it would be a good move. Go figure.
I was a mid-forty-something divorcee and a licensed bookkeeper and accountant. Now I’m engaged to be married. Sometimes I look at the ring on my finger and have to touch it to be sure I’m not imaging things. My fiancé, Marshall Gregory, is the third employee at Williams Investigations. Like Nate, he’s a retired Mankato Police Department detective, albeit fifteen or so years younger. My age, to be precise.
I’d had a schoolgirl crush on Marshall for years while I was employed in Mankato. Little did I realize, he felt the same way. So, when he moved out here to join Williams Investigations, we both “came clean,” and our relationship took off.
We share a rented home in Vistancia, a multigenerational neighborhood not far from the office, and unless our wedding ceremony gets mucked up because my mother decides to sneak that little dog of hers into the Civics Building, the next ring on my finger will be a wedding band.
Thirty seconds later, my cell phone rang, and like a Pavlovian dog, I answered it immediately. It couldn’t be my mother again because she always used the office line. Something about needing “a real connection.”
“Hey, Phee! It’s me, Lyndy. I figured you’d be on break. Just checking to make sure we’re still on for Mexican at Abuelos after work.”
“Absolutely. I can taste their guacamole already. Marshall won’t be back from Yuma until tomorrow afternoon and I dreaded the thought of a frozen dinner, or worse.”
“He must get tired of testifying on some of those cases.”
“The long drives are a pain, but I don’t think he minds the rest of it. Anyway, I can’t wait to tell you about my mother’s idea for a ring bearer. It’s a doozy.”
“Does it have four legs?”
“Aargh. You know her too well. See you after work.”
I ended the call and smiled. It was good to have a friend my age who understood about wacky families. Lyndy Ellsworth moved out west following her husband’s death and found herself dealing with an eccentric aunt who, like my mother, also lived in Sun City West.
It was a little past six when I spied Lyndy at Abuelos. Because it was a weekday evening and some of the snowbirds had already headed home, the place wasn’t as packed as usual. Our table was adjacent to the indoor courtyard fountain and flanked by two giant ficus plants. Lyndy waved me over and proceeded to tell me about her day.
“I swear, they deliberately change the health plans just to frustrate me. Do you know, I can recite the nuances between the old Medicare Supplemental F and now t
he new plans in my sleep?”
“Ugh. Glad I just work with numbers, not health plans like you do.”
A twenty-something waiter with wavy, brown hair took our drink orders as we perused the menus. Enchiladas with carnitas for Lyndy and a giant bowl of shrimp and jalapeño chowder for me.
No sooner had I put down the menu when I glanced across the room. “Oh no. Oh no, no, no!”
“What?” Lyndy asked. “What’s wrong?”
“Don’t make any sudden moves that will call attention to us. If we move quickly, maybe we can leave some cash on the table and sneak out of here.”
“Why? What’s going on?”
“Whatever you do, do not turn around. That’s my mother across the room from us with two of her book club friends, Shirley Johnson and Lucinda Espinoza. They must not have noticed us when they came in. Thank God for these giant ficus plants.”
“Are you sure it’s them?”
“Of course I’m sure. I can recognize my own mother. Even if she changes her hair color every time the wind blows. And there’s no mistaking Shirley and Lucinda. One tall, elegant black woman accompanied by a frumpy woman with blondish-gray hair. Yes, it’s them. We’d better make a move. Now! Good grief. What are they doing here? They never leave the compound. Unless—”