Killer Spring Fling

by Mollie Bryan

  Killer Spring Fling

  A Victoria Town Mystery Novella

  Mollie Cox Bryan

  © Copyright, Mollie Cox Bryan, 2020 All Rights Reserved

  Cover Design by http://www.StunningBookCovers.com

  Editing by Barb Goffman

  Table of Contents

  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 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Recipes | French Hot Chocolate

  Lavender Scones

  The Cumberland Creek Series

  The Cora Crafts Series

  The Buttermilk Creek Series

  The Victoria Town Mystery Novellas

  Classic Star Biography Mysteries

  Mollie writing as Maggie Blackburn

  Sign up for Mollie Bryan's Mailing List

  Chapter 1

  Strolling through cemeteries had always been one of Viv’s favorite pastimes. But she especially loved Victoria Town’s resplendent cemetery, Rosethorn, which drew her in with its mists and gentle hillsides. It was a sweeping, rolling park-like place. Its fifty acres were dotted with small memorial gardens, mausoleums, and countless old Gothic and Victorian tombstones. The names carved into them sparked her imagination, and she often whispered them as she walked by. Lucille Bennington. Ichabod Renquist. Minnie Harmon. Annabelle Marquis. Alfred Saint-Andrews. She explored Rosethorn and found something new every day. A cherub or angel she hadn’t noticed before. A sweet garden behind a wall of huge shrubs. An interesting tombstone saying. Or warning. All very Victorian, of course.

  Victoria Town, Virginia, sat just outside the Blue Ridge Mountains, tucked in a valley between the edge of the ridges and stretching farm fields. Its roots stretched back to mid-1800s, when it was a thriving railroad settlement. Homes and businesses kept the Victorian architecture through the years, and when the town’s economy shifted, a wise tourism council formed and made the place into a tourist haven for all things Victorian. Viv landed her esix months ago after she was laid off from her job as a computer game designer. Her aunt Libby needed help with her bed-and-breakfast—and she loved Aunt Libby.

  A half hour earlier, as the sun was peeking over the hills, Viv promised her aunt she’d fetch Blue Topsy, a unique wildflower. Libby would use it to decorate a cake she’d bake for the town’s annual Spring Fling in two days. The cake would be Aunt Libby’s crowning glory at the B & B’s reception.

  “The Blue Topsy only grows on the west side of Rosethorn this time of year. It looks like this.” Aunt Libby had held up a picture of a large bell-like powder-blue flower. “So, if you see some, please pick a few . It’s what the cake needs to be authentic.” Aunt Libby knew about Victorian flower lore. Each room at the B & B donned a flower name: Periwinkle, Rose, Foxglove, Bluebell, Poppy, Lily.

  Aunt Libby was in her glory when planning a party. Viv knew she loved having her there to do the legwork for her. “After you’ve gotten the flowers, I wonder if you could go by the strawberry farm and collect a few quarts for me.”

  “Sure thing.”

  So here Viv stood breathing in Appalachian spring air, searching for the Blue Topsy flower. Was she at the wrong end of the cemetery? Should she go back? Or continue? She edged further on the western side of the graveyard until she spotted a fenced off area with a trellised entrance. Rosethorn held several small family plots, which had turned into private cemeteries with the passage of time. She thought she saw a streak of blue—the same shade as the Blue Topsy—near the entrance.

  A family passed by her. Mom. Dad. Two boys. Quiet. One boy rode on his dad’s shoulders. A winsome pang swept through her. She’d never known her dad. But she liked to imagine doing dad things with him.

  Viv took off in the opposite direction than the family, toward the trellis. Squinting, she still wasn’t sure she saw a flower. Was it? It was about twenty feet off the walk, down over a slope with a tangle of tree and shrubs, next to the fenced-off private garden and cemetery. She didn’t enjoy going off the path when she was alone, but it wasn’t too far. She had an irrational fear that she might sink into a grave. Too many bad horror flicks.

  Viv reached inside her jacket for the linen bags she’d brought to store the special flower in, along with tiny scissors. She swished through the dewy grass. The closer she drew to her prize, the more it flummoxed her. The crisp blue was the exact shade of flower—but it was not shaped right, and...not a delicate flower at all, but a piece of ragged cloth.

  A reflection hit her eyes. A tiny ornate mirror lay next to the cloth, and swath of something yellow—grass? No. Hair. It was doll or human hair. Her eyes followed along to a strange pattern of leaves resembling a cherubic face. Wait. It was a face in the leaves.

  A cold sweat popped out on her forehead, and Viv began running toward the young woman lying in a small clearing beneath the trees. A group of objects surrounded her. A mirror. A group of crystals. A red lace fan. A wooden box. As Viv tried to make sense of what she saw, she slowed down. The woman was stiffly clutching a bouquet of Forget-Me-Nots. Was she alive? Merely meditating? Viv had heard this cemetery attracted people who meditated because it was on a ley line. Or something.

  As she approached the woman, torn between not wanting to disturb her and being concerned for her, Viv realized her eyes were half open and her skin was tinged with a faint hue of blue-gray. Was she... Was she dead?

  Viv turned and ran back to the path, her heart racing and stomach convulsing, and threw up her breakfast. She drew in big gulps of air. What to do?

  She reached into her coat for her cell phone. There it was. She pulled it out but dropped it, unable to keep it in her shaking hands. Finally, she held it firmly and pressed 9-1-1.

  “Is everything okay?” A voice came from behind her. She gasped and turned to find a man with his dog. He looked to be in his late forties, probably double her age. “I saw you getting sick over there. Do you need help?”

  She nodded. She held the phone up. “I can’t get a signal.”

  “Yeah, it’s spotty here,” he said. “Can I do something for you?”

  “Not me,” she said. Her stomach waved again, and she clutched it, taking in a deep breath. “There’s a body over there.”

  His chin lifted. “A body? Like a deer or something?” His dog pranced around him.

  “A dead... I think...a woman...” It seemed like there wasn’t enough air in this cemetery. Her lungs felt heavy. The ground appeared to sway.

  The man was at her side, gently reaching for her elbow. “We’ve got to get you out of here. Can you make it?’

  Could she? Back to the gate? It was so, so far. Trees spun, the ground rolled, and it all went black.

  Chapter 2

  Back home in her canopy bed, with Aunt Libby flitting in and out of her room, Viv tried to banish the image of the dead woman out of her head. Aunt Libby had made her soup for lunch, but Viv’s stomach was still too queasy. Best just to lie back down.

  Aunt Libby brought her another cup of ginger tea. “The police will be here soon to take a statement from you. I tried to keep them away as long as possible.” She set the tea on the bedside table.

  “It’s okay,’’ Viv said. “I need to tell them what I saw and everything. I just couldn’t do the complete story there.”

 
; “It was quite a shock to the system.” Her aunt sat on the edge of the quilt-covered bed.

  Viv nodded. “I’ve never stumbled on a dead body, like, out in the open. Do you know who she is? Was?”

  “As far as I know, nobody does. I’ve been on the phone off and on all morning.”

  Viv closed her eyes. “I just can’t get her face off my mind...or the strange things she had lying around her.”

  Libby leaned in, her blue eyes wide. “What things?”

  Viv told her, then drank some tea. It felt good to get that off her chest.

  Aunt Libby’s round face drained. “Crystals? A red lace fan...and hand mirror.” It was as if she were remembering something.

  “Does it mean anything to you?” Viv asked.

  “No. I was thinking about vintage red lace fan I used to have. A friend bought it for me during his travels to England.”

  “A male friend?” Viv teased.

  “Yes, as a matter of fact he was. Quite male, if I remember correctly.”

  “Tell me more,” Viv said.

  “Someday,” she said with an air of finality.

  Viv knew better than to prod.

  The ginger tea warmed Viv as it traveled down her throat. How would anything ever be the same after finding that poor woman? She tried to ground herself and took in the room. Same wardrobe with an almost-closed door, clothes falling out of it. Same vanity with all of her cosmetics and perfumes. Aunt Libby’s very Victorian wall hangings scattered through the room. Lace curtains. Yes, this was the same place. Viv’s room since she’d come to stay to help Aunt Libby.

  She’d probably feel much better if she weren’t surrounded by the cloistering frou-frou Victorian decor in her room. But she was only here temporarily and wanted to tread lightly. After all, this room was usually rented so it had to fit in with the theme. Viv’s preference for the dark and simple wouldn’t work here.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t get the Blue Dropsy flower.”

  Libby waved her off. “It’s perfectly all right. I’ll find some. I’m more concerned about you. You’re not the type that passes out easily. I’ve made a doctor appointment for you. Just to be sure you’re okay. I told your mom I’d look after you.”

  “The paramedics checked me over good.” Viv sipped again from the delicate cup. Pink roses. Gold fleur-de-lis.

  “Still, that was a shock, and I’d feel better if someone I know and trusted look at you. Your mom would never forgive me if I let something happen to you.” She stood. “I need to check on a few things for the party. Have you tried on your dress?”

  Viv glanced at the dress hanging on a hanger over the wardrobe door. “No, not yet.” She dreaded it. For years Viv had only wore black, then recently she branched out into dark reds and purples. But a dress? She’d not worn one in years, let alone a yellow, frilly Victorian gown.

  “I’m sure it will fit and you’ll look beautiful. But just to make sure, you should try it on when you’re feeling up to it.” She walked away and then turned. “I’m very excited about this year’s Spring Fling. It will be your first. I can’t wait!”

  Viv smiled at her aunt. “Should be fun.”

  She knew what to expect. The promenade. And the daylong party, known as the Spring Fling, where all the businesses opened their doors to welcome guests with free entertainment and refreshments. Some shops and businesses offered music, some offered fashion shows, or horticultural lectures. One shop was offering a flower-pressing class. Everything historically appropriate—including Viv’s dress, which was a pale yellow, trimmed in delicate white lace, complete with a bustle. She’d pleaded for black. But, according to Libby, it was an inappropriate color for a young woman in the Victorian era, unless she was in mourning.

  “This a spring celebration of life. Let’s not get macabre,” she’d said.

  But macabre was exactly how Viv felt. She drew in the air. I won’t be walking through the cemetery again soon.

  She closed her eyes, and visions of the dead young woman played in her mind’s eye. Her blond hair against the brown earth. Her white arm twisted. Her slightly open, unblinking eyes.

  Viv patted herself gently on the face. “Stop it.”

  She rolled onto her side and found sleep.

  A faint rapping at her door made her jump. “Yes?”

  “The police are here to see you,” Aunt Libby said through the door.

  “I’ll be right down.”

  Viv untangled herself from her blankets and girded her loins. She’d given a brief statement at the site, but she’d been a bit out of it. You know, ya always wonder what you’d do under such circumstances. Now she knew...she passed out. And she was not one to pass out easily. Not like her mom, who fainted at the sight of blood, or any slight shock. Like a surprise party. Viv grinned. She’d never given her mom another surprise party—after the first and last one, where she fainted.

  She slipped on jeans and a sweatshirt, ran her fingers through her hair, and glanced at herself in the mirror. Pale. Paler than usual. What do you expect, Viv, you just stumbled on a dead body.

  ###

  “What can you tell us about this morning?” Officer Charles Willoughby, one of the small town’s four full-time police officers, asked her after she sat down in the living room. A burly uniformed cop sitting among the doilies and potpourri? Well, the irony was not lost on Viv.

  She recapped what happened this morning.

  “Why were you there so early?” He asked, his thick eyebrows knitting.

  “I like to walk early.” Her favorite walk was right before sunrise during foggy mornings where she walked through the mist. “And I was looking for the Blue Dropsy flower for Aunt Libby’s cake.”

  He grinned, eyebrows lifting. “And what a fine cake it is.”

  Libby beamed. “Thank you.”

  “Did you see anybody near the body?” he asked.

  “No.”

  “Did you hear anything strange?”

  “Like what?”

  He shrugged. “A rustling of leaves of the ground. Footsteps.”

  Viv thought a moment. “No.”

  “Did you see anybody else there, in the cemetery, at all?” he asked.

  “Yes, there was a family earlier. Man, woman and two boys.”

  He nodded. “That checks out.”

  He stood, his potbelly tightly covered by his jacket. “Thanks very much, Ms. Barton. I’ll be on my way.”

  “Wait! That’s it?” Viv wanted answers. Who was the woman who died? Why was she surrounded with such odd objects?

  “Yes. We’re done here.” Willoughby nodded. “The chief may be in touch later today.”

  “Any idea who the body is?” Aunt Libby asked.

  “Yeah, but we can’t tell you until we inform her family. Have a good day.” He placed his hat back on his head and left the house.

  After he left, Aunt Libby turned to Viv. “You’d think they would have informed her family by now.”

  “Right? That was early this morning. It’s almost suppertime.”

  “Unless? Unless her family is out of town...or she doesn’t have a family,” Aunt Libby said, eyes lit at the prospect of a puzzle to figure out.

  “If she has a family, wouldn’t they be looking for her? Seems like she was there in the grass maybe all night. I figure I would have heard about any disappearances since I moved here, but what about before then?”

  “Not that I know of. But why don’t you get out that laptop of yours and do your thing? In the meantime, I need to take the bread out of the oven. I’m making vegetable soup with homemade bread tonight.”

  “Wonderful,” Viv said as she started up the stairs. Nothing more comforting than Aunt Libby’s soup and homemade bread, lathered with butter. Her mouth watered.

  Viv suspected her aunt made it just for her. It had been quite a day. She drew in the air. She’d be fine. Just as soon as she stopped seeing the young woman’s face every time she closed her eyes.

  Chapter 3

 
; Viv searched online for “missing girls” and “missing women” in Victoria Town and its neighboring towns of Staunton, Waynesboro, and even as far out as Lexington. There were a few listed as runaways, but none of them matched the description of the young woman Viv had found in the cemetery this morning.

  Odd. Was nobody missing her?

  Sadness washed over her at the thought of the young woman not even being missed.

  She recalled the objects around the body. Did they have some meaning? What exactly was in the wooden box? She supposed she’d never find that out. But she recognized the crystals—they were amethyst and rose quartz. What was the meaning of the beautiful crystals, the ornately carved wooden box, and the ornate silver hand mirror? Was there a meaning?

  Viv’s head swam with visions of the objects, the woman’s hair, her curved arm, and her face. She needed air.

  She snapped her laptop shut. If only she knew the woman’s name, she might be able to find out something about her. She bit her lip and her chest burned. She needed to walk.

  “Where are you going?” And Libby asked as Viv headed for the front door.

  “I feel like I need some air. I’m going for a walk.”

  Libby grimaced. “Please don’t go far. You’ve had a shock. And supper will be ready soon, within thirty minutes.”

  Viv nodded and exited the house. The fresh, chilly air hit her with a pleasant sensation. She drew the air deep into her lungs as she walked down the sidewalk toward the gate. She faced the yard as she closed the gate. It sat in an explosion of color. Flowers, shrubs, and trees bloomed in harmony.

  All the homes along this street were surrounded by gorgeous flowers. Spring in Victoria Town was a celebration that went beyond the actual Spring Fling. It was as if the whole town had been waiting for the winter to break, to let go of its icy hold, and explode. The happy pink flowers were a bit much for Viv. A flower here or there was one thing. She didn’t care for all the pinks and yellows. She preferred black, eggplant, and dark gold.

  She turned down the street and walked by Rosethorn cemetery, with its ornate iron gates and stone fence. This was more her style. Yes, there were a few flowers cropping up in the cemetery and the trees were popping, but it was all more subdued. Once again, her thoughts turned to the young woman on the on the grassy slope and she hoped that her family would show up so they could deal with her body in a respectful, loving way. The thought of the young women’s corpse waiting around to be identified knotted Viv’s stomach.