An Artful Assassination (Flight Risk Cozy Mystery Book 6)

by Susan Harper

  “Well, I imagine being in Paris, France, will be an even grander refresher,” Jefferson said, fixing himself a plate.

  They all enjoyed breakfast together, laughing and talking about the adventures they’d had over the past several days. Kendell felt a little disappointed knowing that she would be traveling without Pauline. They had been traveling companions for a while now, and she also felt like she would be taking advantage of the woman seeing as how Pauline had been paying for all of the trips for the two of them. It seemed unfair that she would be vacationing for a couple of days without her. But Pauline was quite insistent.

  Before Kendell knew it, it was time for her flight. Pauline remained behind, wanting to rest her back rather than driving an hour in the car to the airport. Kendell understood, but she felt sad leaving Pauline behind in Senoia. Felicity and Jefferson kindly drove her. The three of them laughed and talked in the car on the way up to Atlanta. It was a strange feeling as she was dropped off at the airport and waved good-bye to Felicity and Jefferson. As a New Yorker, she had never really envisioned enjoying the small-town lifestyle. She had certainly never envisioned herself enjoying a vacation to a place like Senoia, Georgia. She had never imagined she could enjoy the food and the culture and the people as much as she had. In fact, the South was the last place she ever thought of traveling. Yet it had become her favorite spot thus far along hers and Pauline’s journey.

  Eventually, it was time for her to board her flight. Pauline had gotten her a first-class seat, and she smiled thankfully as she sat down, her carry-on bag in tow. She set the bag in her lap, pulling out a new sticker that read Senoia, Georgia, on it and had an image of the little town’s skyline—including the little water tower. She smiled happily. “I might actually have to come back to Senoia sometime,” she said to herself.

  She listened halfheartedly to the flight attendant as she went over safety procedures. It was a speech she herself had memorized from years of working in the airlines. She sighed heavily. After five years, she had finally realized that she wasn’t getting what she wanted out of being a flight attendant. It was time for a career change. Felicity had suggested travel writing, but was there really any money in that? Then again, did it matter if she was enjoying life, able to travel, and was generally happier than she was now?

  Plus, what would her boyfriend think? He always took himself so seriously, and the two of them had been getting quite close in the past few years. Would he be supportive? It was a lot to process. Maybe I could just do a trial run, she contemplated. Now would be the good time to do it. She’d had a few adventures so far. Her phone and camera were full of pictures from her and Pauline’s travels. Maybe a blog would be a good idea.

  The flight took off, and eventually, the announcement that the WiFi was available came on. Kendell pulled out her laptop, opening up the internet icon. She created for herself a little blogger webpage. She called it New York Class and Georgia Charm. She had already downloaded pictures from her phone from that first trip in London, so she started uploading some of her favorite photos onto the webpage. Then, she started typing.

  The words flowed from her fingertips with ease. It came easily and naturally, and she spared no detail. She talked all about the incident at the Globe Theater—about the case she and Pauline had worked out there. She was funny and clever, serious when needed, and respectful to the deceased. Before she knew it, she had completed her first travel writing article. She played around a bit with the home page, pulling stock photos off the internet and using Photoshop to edit her own photos with the stock photos. Soon, she was looking a beautifully designed webpage—one with a fun roadmap background with a super sleuth caricature of herself and Pauline and even Dot in the bottom right corner. She then created bio pages for herself, for Pauline, and yes, even Dot. She smiled, feeling quite satisfied. The website was complete, the first blog post written.

  Her finger lingered over the publish button for several minutes. The gentleman next to her smiled. “What is it you’ve been working on over there with that big smile on your face?” he asked.

  “A possible career change,” Kendell said. “Thinking about becoming a travel writer, so I just started up my blog… I’m kind of nervous to publish it.”

  “What’s the blog called?” he asked.

  “New York Class and Georgia Charm,” she said.

  “How did you come up with that title?” he asked curiously.

  “I’m from New York, and my partner-in-crime is a Georgia woman,” Kendell said, tapping her fingers nervously against the top rim of her computer screen.

  “Publish it,” he said encouragingly.

  Kendell nodded, clicking the button. She breathed. She felt anxious about putting herself out there like that. The man beside her had his phone out, but she was not paying attention to what he was doing. He snickered to himself every once in a while. Kendell had opted to put a tracker of website views on her page, and she saw that she already had a view. She looked to the man beside her. “You’re reading my blog?” she asked.

  “Is this a true story?” he asked her.

  “Yes,” she said.

  “This is amazing,” he said. “You can really write. You paint an interesting picture. It’s funny, too. Kendell McDonald? According to the blog…”

  Kendell smiled. “Thank you,” she said. “And yes, my name’s Kendell. What’s yours?”

  “Rodney Adams,” he said, and they shook hands. It was always nice when you were going to be on a long flight to get seated next to someone so friendly. “You mind if I share your blog on my social media pages? I like it and would love to support it.”

  “Please do!” she said excitedly.

  “You know, you should add a donation option,” he said. “With an option to do a monthly donation. That way, people who enjoy your writing can support it to help you keep doing it.”

  “You can do that?” Kendell asked.

  He pointed eagerly to her laptop, and she passed it to him. He played around for a minute, then started typing away. “I’ve got three different donation options setups,” he said. “Kendell’s Crew—five dollars a month with the option to change the donation fee to something a little more. Pauline’s Posse—one hundred a month with the same option to go a little higher. And, finally, you have Dot’s Division—five hundred a month, and those who join that group can get perks like seeing your blog posts early and getting access to exclusive behind-the-scene photos through an online newsletter you can send out once a month.”

  Kendell took the laptop back, looking at some of the changes Rodney had made. “This is incredible,” she said, smiling. “This is amazing advice. Thank you.”

  “Bloggers have got to stick together,” he said with a wink.

  “You’re a blogger too?” she asked.

  “Yeah. Not a travel writer or anything. I do stuff on local cuisine. I’m from Detroit. It’s just a side job right now, but it’s been growing.”

  “Tell me the name of your blog, and I’ll follow you too,” Kendell said, and they exchanged information. She felt very fortunate to have wound up next to him. It was almost as though the universe had placed a fairly successful blogger next to her as a sign to go for it. She smiled, checking in on occasion to see her views going up.

  She leaned back in her seat, closing her eyes for a bit. It was going to be a long flight to Paris.

  Thanks for reading An Artful Assassination. I hope you enjoyed reading the story as much as I enjoyed writing it. If you did, it would be awesome if you left a review for me on Amazon and/or Goodreads.

  The next book in the series will be out in August and will be available for pre-order soon.

  At the very end of the book, I have included a couple previews of books. First is a preview of Dying for a Drive - it’s the first book in my popular Senoia Cozy Mystery series. Second is a preview of Up in Smoke by USA Today Bestselling Author Shannon VanBergen - it’s the first book in the Glock Grannies Cozy Mystery series. I really hope you like the
samples. If you do, both books are available on Amazon.

  Get Dying for a Drive here: amazon.com/dp/B01N4TEYQY

  Get Up in Smoke here: amazon.com/dp/B06XHKYRRX

  If you would like to know about future cozy mysteries by me and the other authors at Fairfield Publishing, make sure to sign up for our Cozy Mystery Newsletter. We will send you our FREE Cozy Mystery Starter Library just for signing up. All the details are on the next page.

  FAIRFIELD COZY MYSTERY NEWSLETTER

  Make sure you sign up for the Fairfield Cozy Mystery Newsletter so you can keep up with our latest releases. When you sign up, we will send you our FREE Cozy Mystery Starter Library!

  FairfieldPublishing.com/cozy-newsletter/

  After you sign up to get your Free Starter Library, turn the page and check out the free previews :)

  Bonus Content: Story Previews

  Preview: Dying for a Drive

  The crisp air tickled Felicity’s nose, so she bundled up tight as she headed out of Senoia Coffee on the corner, gripping her hot chocolate. It was still early fall, which was rare to be chilly so soon in Georgia, but an unexpected cold front had come in. She smiled as she went out to the street and could see all of the classic cars getting ready for the event. Everything was running smoothly, and Wanda seemed to be smiling her approval as the two women walked up the sidewalk together back toward Overton’s Events, which had become the headquarters for the car show’s event planning.

  Felicity smiled when she saw Jefferson speaking with a customer while a few of the car owners waited patiently for his attention. He was keeping a steady eye on the hustle going on around him while maintaining an upbeat smile for the curious patron. Not wanting to break his rhythm, she plopped the second cup of hot chocolate she had bought on the counter beside him and he nodded his thanks. She got to work addressing any concerns of the car owners. There were a few complaints about spacing and crowds but nothing she couldn’t handle thanks to the notes Wanda had given. They were so detailed that Felicity was prepared for just about anything, and all the participants, from the overly gracious to hilariously stubborn, performed just as expected. Soon she was back in the street again after a solid “Good job” was thrown her way from Wanda, who headed in the opposite direction to help finish putting out signs.

  Soon the event was underway, and the streets were lined with people who had come to gawk at the cars. She headed toward the gazebo where the out-of-towner, Charles, had parked his Cobra. The old car was a beautiful metallic red that glinted pristinely in the sunlight. Charles had opted out of having a show tent so the buyer could see how the sun hit the car. As she walked over, she could see Charles polishing it for what had to be the third time since he’d driven up that morning, and he was doing so with a cigar dangling awkwardly from his lips to avoid getting ash on the paint.

  “So have you sold it yet?” Felicity asked as she came upon the older gentleman. Charles made her slightly uncomfortable. When she’d met him that morning to go over the details of the event, she’d tried her hardest to be professional, but the old man’s gaze had barely made it above her neckline and he had thrown her a compliment about her chest she’d rather never hear repeated. He took a long drag of his cigar and leaned against the hood, eyeing her lewdly. The man had to be at least sixty-five, but that certainly did not stop him from eyeing any female who passed him by with an immodest gaze.

  “Maybe,” he huffed, looking slightly annoyed as a young man walked around from the back of the vehicle.

  “Maybe is right,” the young man said, and Felicity grinned.

  “Adam,” Felicity said. “So you’re the mysterious car-buyer?”

  Adam Fao was a local, and she knew him well. He came from old money, and everyone in town knew he had finally taken over his father’s finances after a long court battle with some distant relatives who tried to claim the older Fao had attempted to leave them oodles of cash. It had of course been a lie, and it had driven Adam mad the past several months. He hadn’t even dealt with burying his father before he was suddenly embroiled in a battle for everything he’d ever owned. It was a shame, really, how many family members came out of the woodwork when a relative died just to try to collect some money. Adam, his father’s only child, had of course received his father’s inheritance. Adam’s father had always been a fan of the car show, often buying cars and showing them off the next year with his own restorations. He even made a hefty donation to keep the event going, and it looked like his son was continuing the tradition.

  Adam smiled. “Who else around here do you think would want to buy something like this?” He laughed slightly. He was dressed in a Led Zeppelin t-shirt and blue jeans; that was something that certainly made him different from the older Fao. Felicity could not remember ever seeing Adam’s father in anything other than a suit. Adam grabbed at the hem of his shirt and pulled it down. “Look,” he said. Felicity could see a large gob of oil soaking Adam’s t-shirt.

  “Yikes,” she said.

  “Don’t encourage him,” Charles said. “It’s an old car. Old cars leak.”

  “I’m amazed you were able to get it here from Florida,” Adam said; he sounded slightly annoyed. “I’m sorry, but I am not paying this much for a car that has issues. Not the amount we discussed, at least.”

  “I didn’t drive all the way from Panama for you to tell me you changed your mind,” Charles retorted, eyeing the young man reproachfully.

  “Dad.” A young man hopped out of the passenger’s seat. Instantly, Felicity could see the resemblance to Charles. The young man was in his thirties, and wore the same scowl as his father. “You can’t sell him a car with problems. We didn’t know it had a leak, all right? We’ll be in town for a few days. We can hire a mechanic and fix it up.”

  “It wasn’t leaking yesterday,” Charles spat.

  “Well, it is now,” Adam rebuked and attempted to clean the oil off his shirt. “It’s just an oil leak. Have someone look into it, and then we can talk.”

  Charles’s son nodded. “That’s perfectly reasonable,” he said and glared at his father. Charles glared back and harrumphed while walking behind the Cobra, grumbling to himself about spoiled rich kids and ungrateful sons. The young man rolled his eyes and looked at Felicity. “I’m Brandon Jones, by the way. I think we talked on the phone last week about the car.”

  Felicity stuck her hand out. “Yes, I remember,” she said as they shook hands. She took a moment to look him up and down and realized just how much like his father he really did look. She considered mentioning it, but before she could say much more, shouting was suddenly heard from the gazebo. She glanced up to see two local women, Monica Barns and Jesse Timid, going back and forth. She couldn’t make out everything they were saying with them screaming over each other, but what she could hear was pretty colorful to say the least. She put her hands on her hips, ready to go settle whatever feud had started.

  “They’re at it again, huh?” Charles laughed, nudging his son.

  “Shut up,” Brandon snapped, the scowl etching itself deeper into his brow. He exhaled with exasperation and started toward the women. He waved a hand toward Felicity. “Don’t worry, I’ll settle them down.”

  Adam rolled his eyes and hooked his arm into Felicity’s. “Come on, let the circus clowns handle this. Trust me, you don’t want to get into the middle of this one. Show me your shop; I haven’t seen it yet.” He marched her away from Charles, who was laughing while puffing on his cigar.

  She walked with Adam, but she unhooked arms as she glanced over her shoulder. “What’s wrong with Monica and Jesse?” She wasn’t majorly concerned, but she had a journalist’s ear for gossip. Besides, the two women had gotten particularly vicious, and if they kept it up, the cars weren’t going to be the only spectacle today.

  Adam laughed. “Do you really want to know?”

  “Kind of,” Felicity said with a grin, sensing something juicy was amiss.

  “That old creep, Charles Jones, catfished them both and t
hey’re ticked off,” Adam said.

  “Catfished?” Felicity questioned.

  “You know, catfished. It’s when you pretend to be someone online that you’re not. He was chatting it up with them both, flirting and talking about how much money he had. Acting like some hot, young bigshot from Florida. Then he shows up, and, well, he’s just an old creep pitting two old friends against each other. When he wasn’t some sexy thirty-something, they both got mad at him and at each other. Apparently, they’ve been fighting for weeks over him, and now that he’s here… Well, you can imagine they’re pretty disappointed to realize they’ve been sexting with some creepy old pervert.”

  “Seriously? What kind of person does that?” Felicity questioned. “Monica and Jesse, I don’t know them well, but they’re pretty close friends, right? Why are they even fighting, though? It seems like they should be mad at Charles, not each other.”

  “I think they’re fighting over Brandon,” Adam said with a snort.

  “For crying out loud!” Felicity laughed. Some people never ceased to amaze her.

  After giving Adam a tour of the shop and then spending some time checking in on all of the car owners and speaking with Wanda about how the event was going, Felicity found herself heading back to the shop just as Jefferson was exiting.

  He smiled and stopped her. “Time for a break,” he said with a wink, letting her know he had someone inside watching the counter.

  “A break? I don’t have time for a break, Jeffrey,” she asserted, but he marched her across the street toward the local ice cream shop.

  “Oh, yes, you do. You’ve been on your feet all morning. You can take a ten-minute break and let me buy you some ice cream. Besides, while you’ve been running around, I’ve booked us two new events, and I say that’s cause for celebration,” he said and walked with a slight skip.