Hop 'Til You Drop
Page 1
THE BUNNY AND THE BODY
A dozen hidden eggs later, Bun became bored. He jumped up the slope and over the top of it while I worked. About thirty minutes later, I realized his absence was too long. It wasn’t like Bun to go off without me for great lengths of time.
Returning to the spot where he’d taken off, I glanced at the moss where he might have left tracks when he returned. The soft moss showed nothing, so I looked closer and was startled when Bun flew from the brush on the slope. He tried to stop when he hit the paved path, but skidded to the other side of the trail and ended up tangled in a shrub.
Whatever Bun found upset him enough to send him rushing through the woods to find me. Certain I wouldn’t be thrilled with whatever it was, I knew in my gut that I’d downright dislike it. “Tell me what’s happened.”
“I can’t. I have to show you. Come on, follow me into the woods.”
In the clearing, wildflowers grew in patches and green grass popped up around them. A mowed grassy oval lay just ahead and dipped somewhat. Before I could take another step, Bun warned, “Continue carefully, very carefully.”
A mound of cloth lay in the center of the oval. I cupped a hand above my eyebrows to block the glare of the sun for a better view. When I realized it wasn’t simply fabric, I gasped out loud, took a step back, and tripped over Bun. I hit the ground hard, spilling the contents of my bucket. Brightly colored eggs rolled away as I gawked at the body of Della Meeny . . .
Books by J.M. Griffin
LEFT FUR DEAD
WHO’S DEAD, DOC?
HOP ‘TIL YOU DROP
Published by Kensington Publishing Corp.
Hop ‘Til You Drop
J. M. GRIFFIN
www.kensingtonbooks.com
All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.
Table of Contents
THE BUNNY AND THE BODY
Also by
Title Page
Copyright Page
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
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
KENSINGTON BOOKS are published by
Kensington Publishing Corp.
119 West 40th Street
New York, NY 10018
Copyright © 2021 by J. M. Griffin
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 Kensington logo is a trademark of Kensington Publishing Corp.
ISBN: 978-1-4967-2059-7
ISBN-13: 978-1-4967-2062-7 (ebook)
ISBN-10: 1-4967-2062-8 (ebook)
Chapter 1
Rabbits hopped about in their oversized playpen. Only one rabbit remained in her hutch, the one who would soon deliver a slew of kits. Bun, my housemate rabbit and sleuth partner, had joined the others while I finished chores. About to add water to each water bin, our in-house veterinarian, Jessica, called me to Petra’s cage. The rabbit’s sweet nature, long-haired fur coat, and beautiful coloring always drew a fan club of kids whenever she went to parties. We’d taught Petra tricks, but now that she was pregnant, the children’s party days were behind her.
“Petra’s doing very well. She should deliver her kits within the next week or two.”
“You don’t think she’ll have any difficulty, do you?” I reached into the cage and smoothed Petra’s coat. A social rabbit with soft, luxurious fur, she seemed to enjoy the attention.
Jess secured the cage door after I hooked a veggie-wrapped pocket of fruit onto the wire inside. “I’ll be right here just in case. Not to worry, Jules.”
We walked the aisles, added the same type of pockets to each rabbit cage, and filled water bins. As we moved along, I said, “I’ve been invited to participate as a volunteer, of course, in Windermere’s Easter celebration. The council has decided to hold a Hop ’Til You Drop event and egg hunt.” I stepped closer to Jess and whispered, “I’m wondering if I should take Bun.”
“You have to. He’ll be devastated if you don’t. You know how sociable Bun is.”
“I suppose you’re right. He’s great company, too.”
“What will your job consist of?”
“Hiding eggs for the kids to find. We’ll place them along the trail at Perkins Park. It’s such a marvelous location for this sort of event. It seems several volunteers, besides me, will handle that part of the program.”
“Then Bun won’t get underfoot, and he’ll enjoy the freedom of scampering around while you are busy with the eggs.”
I thought about it for a minute. “He would have a good time. I guess I will take him.” I leaned against a beam near the end of an aisle. “He needs exercise as much as I do.”
Jess rolled her eyes. “I have patients to see. I’ll check in with you later. Jason and Molly will be here today. I’m not sure what time, though.”
I watched as she went off to her clinic. My helpers, Molly and Jason, were the only workers I had now that Peter, a college student, had moved on. Molly, enrolled in classes at the local college, taught spinning and weaving classes in my yarn shop classroom. I wasn’t sure how much longer Jason would work for me before I’d have to seek out a new employee. So far, I’d had great luck in finding kids who enjoyed working with the rabbits.
Once the rabbits returned to their hutches and munched their snacks, I folded the pen and tucked it away while Bun yammered on about the upcoming egg hunt and festivities.
“You are taking me along, aren’t you? I can most certainly assist in finding the best places to tuck Easter eggs. Places easy enough for the kids to find. I am going, right?”
“Of course. Where would I be without your help?” It wasn’t as if I couldn’t find places to put the eggs, but I knew he needed reassurance. I was concerned that he’d find some mischief to get into while we were there.
After entering the house, I fed Bun and made a snack to eat out on the porch. The air was fragrant with the scent of spring and smelled glorious. Flowers bloomed and the trees had blossomed in the yard. The sight and smell of such sweetness was heavenly.
I considered the risks of having Bun along on the egg-hiding end of the hop. I never used a collar or leash on Bun. He was smart enough to stay within a reasonable distance from me and not wander too far away. Of course, he’d get bored if he wasn’t put to work, so his self-proclaimed skills to seek places to hide the eggs could work in my favor.
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It would have been difficult to leave him home while I volunteered at the park. His feelings would be hurt, and I’d never hear the end of it. You see, Bun and I are best buds. We solve mysteries together, hang out all the time, and best of all, I know he always has my best interests at heart, just as I have his.
Bun had come to the farm by way of an animal rescue team that worked in and around Windermere. A woman and her family had abused Bun because they couldn’t accept the fact that he communicated by way of telepathy. Determined and insisting he was the spawn of Satan, they made Bun’s life dreadful and a misery. To this day, Bun finds violence and anger appalling. He’d tried for some time to convince me he was able to communicate, and eventually I realized he was able to talk to me without the ability to speak out loud. We’ve relished every moment of his communication skill ever since, other than when he nags me, that is.
His problem, the same one I admit to, is that he likes a good mystery. We both favor a genuine whodunit that needs solving, as long as we don’t end up being done in by the killer. We’ve come close to it on occasion, but being survivors, Bun and I take care of ourselves and each other.
I’d eaten the last of the nuts and fruit mix and peeked into Bun’s room and heard his sweet, tiny snore. His dreamer’s wiggly whiskers meant he’d been asleep for a while. I left him to it and set off for the yarn shop connected to the barn.
New yarns were ready to sort and price. The display racks had lots of empty spaces to fill. The sale Molly had recommended succeeded in getting rid of our overstock, and only a few skeins of sale yarn were left. I set a large box on the counter, tore it open, and before I could empty it onto the countertop, brightly colored skeins of yarn popped out and spread across the counter, then tumbled to the floor. I scooped up one armful after another, certain Molly was scheduled to arrive any moment.
The phone rang as I stuffed hanks of yarn into the box. I fumbled with loose skeins to answer the call. I sighed, picked up the phone, and said, “Jules Bridge.”
“Jules, this is Alvin Peterson. I wanted to speak to you concerning the Easter egg Hop ’Til You Drop event.”
Alvin sounded rather uptight. Whether that was his usual behavior, I didn’t know. I spoke in a soft tone before I became uptight, too. “What can I do for you?”
“Della Meeny will be in charge of the scoop and stash station, where you’re assigned to work. She mentioned you’ve worked events with a puppeteer and mentioned I should ask you for more information. Do you think the puppeteer would entertain at our event?”
“I’m certain she would if her schedule is open. Why don’t you give me your phone number and I’ll have her call you. Her name is Bailey Kimball.”
“That would be very helpful, thank you.”
I quickly jotted his number on a notepad and promised either Bailey or I would be in touch.
Wasting no time, I called Bailey. I repeated Alvin’s invite and offered his information. I listened to her chatter excitedly over how thrilled she was. She was right to feel this way, since it offered us an opportunity to expand our business contacts. That alone was better than any advertisement we could generate.
The call ended as Molly parked in front of the shop. Aware of the mess I’d been in the middle of before the call came in, I hurried to get the yarn in order. Molly’s grin widened when she saw the colorful piles of yarn.
“Having fun?” Molly asked.
I heaved a sigh, gave her a grin in return, and explained what happened.
“You should know by now that skeins of yarn are always squashed into the boxes for shipping. Though, I wish it wasn’t. It always seems to explode from the boxes when I open them. Give me a minute and I’ll help you with that.” She hung up her coat, stuck her handbag under the counter, and began by asking for the invoice.
“I know you haven’t handled this in some time. Before we display the yarn, let’s do an inventory of what the boxes contain.”
To help her by unpacking the yarn before Molly’s arrival, I had forgotten the importance of an inventory. Lately, I’d been too busy with mystery-solving and rabbit care to pay attention to this end of the business. Ashamed by my lack of attention to the shop, I leaned against the counter and said, “I’ve neglected the shop and you. I’m sorry.”
Her eyes wide, a look of surprise crossed her features. “Don’t be silly, Jules. I don’t feel neglected in the least. As a matter of fact, I’m happy you have enough confidence in my abilities to let me handle the shop the way I do. You even give me a free hand in running the classes, which has increased my confidence. It’s been helpful in my classes at college, too. I’ve learned some marketing skills while working here by seeing how you and Jessica each operate your businesses. I thank you for that.”
Relieved and pleased to think Molly could hold her own and did it very well reassured me that I needn’t hover over her shoulder. “Super. Let’s get this job done.”
In an hour or so, we finished the inventory and displayed the various yarns and hanks of wool for spinning. Pricing as we went left me impressed with Molly’s way of working to create an atmosphere geared to shoppers. The shop had been in the red before my former employee came on the scene. When Molly took over, the business began to pay for itself and make a profit. I had lucked out when Molly said she wanted to run the shop and earn a college degree in fiber arts.
About to leave, I saw Bailey arrive and watched her rush toward the shop. Her excitement evident, Bailey could barely stand still. “I’m on my way to Perkins Park. Alvin will meet me there to go over a few things. Would you like to come along?”
I hesitated until Molly said, “Go on, I’ll handle things here. Is Bun in the house?”
“He’s napping. Could you check on him while I’m gone?”
She nodded, and I left with Bailey.
On the drive to Perkins Park, we talked nonstop. The construction of tents and canopies was well underway. A flatbed tractor trailer, loaded with tables and whatnot, had backed up to one tent, while another, smaller truck waited in line. Signposts were being erected. Activity abounded, leaving an impression of ants on a mound.
A medium-height, thin man, stared at Bailey’s van and raised his hand for us to stop. He stepped to Bailey’s side window and asked, “Are you Miss Kimball?”
She nodded.
“I’m Alvin Peterson. Nice to meet you.” Alvin waved us to the left side of a tent. “You can park over there, at the eggcellent creation station. We’ll talk inside.”
“Okay.” Bailey parked where he indicated. Before we left the van, she murmured, “They’ve got a good marketer. The names of the various tents draw attention and the grounds are huge. It’s a perfect spot for this affair.”
I gawked at all that went on and agreed. “I’m assigned to the scoop and stash station not far from here.” I pointed to the canopied spot. All the canopies and tents were draped with what appeared to be sheets of white plastic that had huge Easter eggs printed on them. Children would find the colors fascinating. I wondered what else the committee had arranged for the attendees.
Inside the eggcellent tent, Alvin guided us to a table at the far end, out of the way of workers. Alvin waited until we were seated and asked if we wanted a beverage. Surprised when a young man stepped forward with a tray of drinks, I chose water while Bailey took lemonade. Alvin sipped his drink and, if I wasn’t mistaken, it contained whiskey; the smell had wafted into my nostrils when a light breeze wended its way past.
“This is quite an undertaking, Mr. Peterson,” I remarked.
“It is. We’ve never had this particular type of event. I’m pleased you could be with us this year. I’m sure the farm keeps you rather busy. You’ll be bringing your rabbit, won’t you?”
“I sure will. Bun loves the kids.”
“Wonderful.” His interest turned toward Bailey. “I’m unfamiliar with your puppets, but have heard lots of great stories about them. Tell me. What could you bring to our event in the way of a theme that would
fit in?”
Quick as a wink, Bailey explained what she would do in the way of an Easter Bunny puppet show. Surprised to hear she had bunny puppets, I considered a show we could put together that would include a rabbit theme in the future. We might be able to increase our party reservations if we worked a theme at times. Hmm.
Questions and answers flew back and forth between Alvin and Bailey. I leaned back in the chair, sipped water, and wished I had a sandwich to go with it.
Satisfied with the results of their mutual interviews, since each of them had truly interviewed the other, I walked away when the time came to discuss payment for Bailey’s act and various particulars.
“I’m going to walk the trail. Call my cell phone when you’re finished,” I said to Bailey.
She gave me a nod and I left them alone. The path was closer to the stash station than the eggcellent one was. I took the path thickly bordered by trees and bushes. Everything was loaded with buds and leaves. From the look of the growth, it wouldn’t take long for everything to bloom fully. With ample places to hide Easter eggs for kids to find, I noted obvious spots.
My excitement grew as I went along the path and was ready to return to the parking lot when I heard a rustle of leaves. Stopped in my tracks, I peered into the trees and climbed onto an embankment that led toward the forest beyond. Trees opened on a clearing with metal benches placed at various angles for people to relax and take a break from their trek. Park custodians had set out huge wooden tubs filled with flowering plants and ivy from the greenhouses in another part of the Perkins acreage.
I sat for a few minutes, allowing the sun to warm my face. As the breeze sang through the trees, I closed my eyes and relaxed. I don’t know how long I sat enjoying nature, when a harsh voice interrupted my quietude.