Blueberry Truffle Murder (A Maple Hills Cozy Mystery Book 3)

by Wendy Meadows

  Blueberry Truffle Murder

  A Maple Hills Cozy Mystery #3

  Wendy Meadows

  Contents

  Copyright

  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

  Be the First to Know

  About the Author

  Copyright © 2016 by Wendy Meadows

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, without prior written permission.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

  Chapter One

  Millin’s Gas Station was nothing more than a run-down, one-room, wooden building attached to a single-bay garage filled with cigarette butts and old tools. Two rusty gas pumps that somehow still managed to pump gas stood on a concrete island in front of the store. Sitting off Green Fair on a single lot littered with weeds and trash, the gas station was in direct contrast to the manicured stores in town. Nikki was appalled at the erosion of the gas station, which reminded her of something she would see in a gang-torn neighborhood back in Atlanta. “Who is Mr. Millin?” she asked Hawk as he pulled up next to Chief Daily's car. The sound of the jeep tires traveling over gravel sounded liked an angry person chewing nails.

  “I don't know much about the man,” Hawk confessed, parking the jeep. With patient eyes, he studied Chief Daily standing next to a light green 1987 Honda Accord. Hawk spotted two cops near the gas pumps, both smoking cigarettes. He rolled his eyes and jumped out of his jeep. “You two put out those cigarettes and show some sense!” he yelled.

  The two cops jumped, spun around, saw Hawk, and then dropped the cigarettes and quickly stomped on them with glossy black shoes. The coroner simply waved at Hawk and then looked away. Nikki grinned. “At least it's a nice morning,” she said, getting out of the jeep. Admiring the warm blue sky overhead, she allowed the morning to soak into her mind. It wouldn't be long before Chief Daily started bawling at her.

  “Come on,” Hawk said as he walked over to the green Honda. The car was parked on the right side of the store, near the tree line, instead of the left side, where there was space for parking. “Let me do the talking, okay? Pop ain't too happy.”

  “I can see that,” Nikki said, walking next to Hawk toward the car. From the distance, she could plainly see the frustration and anger on Chief Daily's face.

  “What is this? Are we living in Atlanta now?” Chief Daily yelled at Hawk and then eyed Nikki. Watching his tongue, he drew in a deep breath. The last thing he wanted to do was fly off the handle and threaten the woman again. “Ms. Bates, you seem to be bringing my sleepy little town a lot of business...no insult implied.”

  Nikki bit her lower lip as a cool breeze floated out from the woods and touched her face. Ignoring Chief Daily's remark, she eased her head down low enough to be able to see into the Honda. There, sitting hunched over in the driver's seat was a woman with long, dark gray hair. The woman's head was pressed against the steering wheel. What Nikki didn't see was any blood. No sign of broken glass. No sign of violence. The driver-side window was rolled up. The car was parked in the shade of trees. For all intents and purposes, the scene appeared very peaceful. As far as Nikki knew, the woman sitting inside the Honda could simply be asleep instead of dead. “Who is she?”

  Hawk walked around to the driver-side window and looked in. His face froze. “Hey, this is—”

  “Yep,” Chief Daily said, throwing his hands down into the pockets of his pants.

  “Who?” Nikki asked, joining Hawk. With a better view, she peered down into the car. The interior of the Honda was clean. Nothing appeared abnormal or strange. The dead woman seemed peaceful. The blue blouse she was wearing over a pair of dark tan pants told Nikki she’d cared about her appearance. “Who is she, Hawk? Is she a local?”

  “Tori's aunt,” Hawk replied, stepping back from the driver-side window. “Cause of death, Pop?” he asked.

  Chief Daily shrugged his shoulders. “I haven't touched the body. Old Man Millin phoned me an hour ago. Said when he got here this morning he saw the car sitting where it is now. He thought Helen Brendale was passed out drunk but said something about the way she was sitting didn't seem right. He banged on the window a few times, and when she didn't respond, he called the station.”

  “Where is he now?” Hawk asked, examining the exterior of the gas station with careful eyes.

  “Inside,” Chief Daily said tossing a thumb at the run-down building.

  “Tori's aunt,” Nikki whispered as she stared at the dead woman. “Oh dear, Hawk...”

  “I know,” Hawk said. Shaking his head, he pulled Nikki away from the Honda with a gentle hand and then tried to open the driver-side door. The door clicked open. Nikki eased forward. The first thing she noticed was the faint scent of a man's cologne mixed with the scent of a heavy perfume that smelled like cinnamon and roses. “Stand back,” Hawk ordered Nikki.

  Nikki nodded. Folding her arms together, she watched Hawk lean into the car and with caring hands, gently ease the dead woman's head off the steering wheel. “No signs of trauma,” he yelled over his shoulder at Chief Daily. “No signs of strangulation...no blood, face is cold...she's been here a while. Jewelry still intact, purse is on the passenger-side floorboard. Nikki, grab the purse.”

  Hawk handed Nikki an evidence bag and a pair of latex gloves. As she put the gloves on, she hurried around to the passenger-side door. She opened it, looked down at the floorboard, spotted a purple and white purse, picked it up and placed it in the plastic bag. She took the opportunity to look into the dead woman's face as she picked up the purse. It was a bitter face, filled with ugly, angry wrinkles that told Nikki more than she needed to know about what kind of woman Tori's aunt was. Yet Nikki could not spot any sign that would point to the cause of death, except the faint smell of a man's cologne.

  “Bring me the purse,” Chief Daily ordered Nikki. Hawk nodded as he continued to examine the dead woman.

  Nikki walked over to Chief Daily. “Here you go,” she said, handing him the purse. “Any ideas?”

  “Off the record?” Chief Daily asked. “I've heard about your new job at the paper.”

  “Off the record,” Nikki said, offering a polite smile.

  “Heart attack...maybe,” Chief Daily replied quickly, remembering the dead man at Elk Horn Lodge. “Ms. Bates, Helen Brendale was a bitter woman. No one really cared for her. She was a rich old bat and nothing more. Her husband knew the stock market and retired here. When he passed, well, Helen got everything.”

  Nikki listened to Chief Daily, noticing the man was shifting uneasily from one foot to the other. “I don't bite,” she said.

  “It's not you,” Chief Daily said. “It's the bodies that are turning up on my watch. First that German man, then that dead man at the Lodge, and now this. I just hope this is a simple case that a quick autopsy can clear up.”

  “And if it isn't?” Nikki asked, appreciating another co
ol breeze.

  “Ms. Bates,” Chief Daily pointed out in a stern tone, “our sleepy little town—and that includes your store—depends on tourists. Without tourists to pump life into this town during the spring, summer and autumn months, why, we would all go hungry in the winter. Winters are harsh here. The entire town seems to close down, and over fifty percent of the people leave for Florida.”

  “I didn't know that many people left,” Nikki said, astounded. “Fifty percent?”

  Chief Daily nodded. “I'd say closer to sixty percent, really. The town is maintained by a skeleton crew until spring. Anyway, my point is, if dead bodies keep turning up, it could affect tourism. You can appreciate that, can't you? I'm not seeming too...indifferent to murder, am I?”

  “I understand,” Nikki assured Chief Daily.

  “Our cozy community has already taken a severe hit from our German friend being run down in broad daylight. And then, to add sprinkles to the cake, you helped expose the identities of certain mafia figures hiding out in our town with the help of our ex-mayor. As if that wasn't enough, Ms. Bates, a man turned up dead at the Elk Horn Lodge, and then the Snowfield's turned up dead, too. What a mess,” Chief Daily finished in a disgusted tone. “I have my job to do, Ms. Bates, and my town to protect. But when people stop feeling safe, they leave...and the tourists stop coming.”

  “I do understand,” Nikki assured Chief Daily for the second time.

  “Do you?” Chief Daily asked Nikki, throwing his face at hers. “Do you know that so far eleven percent of the citizens of our fair community have left? Donna down at the real estate office is going to make a fortune on commissions if she is able to sell the houses that are now vacant. Do you also know that more people are considering leaving? Little towns like ours are a dime a dozen. New England is littered with towns like ours. So why stay in a place where dead bodies turn up, a corrupt mayor is sent to prison, and the local police force is considered nothing more than a joke? Let's not forget our esteemed hospital that can't even handle a simple ankle sprain.”

  Nikki stared into Chief Daily's face. She saw a worried man. “I—”

  “You nothing,” Chief Daily interrupted. “You moved here from Atlanta. You know nothing of this town or its people. You came here as some big-shot reporter who is more than happy to play slap-shot with the locals on a few crimes while the governor of this state is willing to pull any and all funding away from this town, which means I have to downsize an already minuscule police force, including my own son. To you this is just another story...you know nothing.”

  Nikki watched Chief Daily storm off toward the run-down building. He barked a few angry words at the coroner and the two cops standing at the gas pumps. The two cops, uncertain what to do, remained standing in place. The coroner let out a miserable sigh. “He's right, you know,” Hawk said, walking up to Nikki. “Pop has a lot on his hands right now. We need to cut him some slack.”

  “I will,” Nikki promised. “So, what's the verdict?”

  “You smelled the cologne?”

  Nikki nodded. “I did. What I smelled wasn't a cologne bought at your local shopping center, either.”

  “Nikki, I can't be sure, but it looks like suffocation.” Hawk waved for the coroner to come over. “Check this woman's nostrils, mouth, lungs, anything and everything, for the smallest trace of fibers,” he told the coroner. “I believed she was suffocated to death.”

  “Yeah, sure,” the coroner said, giving Hawk an I-know-my-job look. “Can I take the body now?”

  “Yeah, go on,” Hawk said. Nodding toward the store, he motioned for Nikki to follow him. “Let me do the talking, okay? I don't know this Millin man too well.”

  “Okay,” Nikki agreed, walking past the two cops, who looked away from her as if she were a dangerous black widow.

  Chapter Two

  Opening a creaky glass door dirty from the weather and years of neglect, Hawk stepped inside a single room lined with three dusty grocery shelves holding expired foods and loaves of bread harder than a diamond. At the front of the room sat a run-down wooden counter, and at the back Hawk spotted a broken-down cooler. Walking over a wooden floor covered with years of dust, he waved stale air littered with cigarette smoke from his face. “Pop,” he said, walking up to the front counter.

  Nikki followed Hawk to the counter. An old man who had to be in his early eighties sat behind the counter on a wooden stool, smoking a cigarette. The old man was bald and had the face of a pit bull. Wearing a dirty red and gray checkered shirt over a pair of gray trousers, he looked like an ex-con who had waited years in order to find his perfect victim. Eying Nikki with suspicion, the old man took a drag on his cigarette. “Who is she?” he asked Chief Daily.

  “Nikki Bates...we've called her in as a special adviser,” Chief Daily explained, leaning against the dusty counter.

  Nikki offered a polite smile as she searched the top of the counter with her eyes. Sitting on the far left of it was an old cash register with a box of cheap cigars next to it. Other than those two items, the counter was bare. Nikki didn't even spot an ashtray. When the old man dropped the cigarette in his hand and put it out with his loafer, she knew why. “It's very nice to meet you.”

  “Is it?” Nelson Millin asked in a gruff voice. “You're that newspaper woman, aren't you? I read the paper.”

  “I'm Nikki Bates,” Nikki explained. “I have been hired by the paper to—”

  “Mr. Millin,” Hawk interrupted, “did Helen Brendale come to your station a lot?”

  “Never saw her here before,” Nelson Millin answered Hawk, pulling out a pack of cigarettes from his pants pocket along with a yellow lighter. After lighting a cigarette, he focused his attention back on Nikki. “I don't like what you did to the mayor, Missy.”

  “We don't like that he was hiding criminals in our town,” Chief Daily came to Nikki's defense. “Now listen, Nelson, a woman is dead. As far as I know, you could have killed her.”

  “So arrest me,” Nelson Millin said refusing to take his eyes off Nikki, “and send me off to the big house, Chief. Just make sure I have my smokes.”

  “What a rude old man you are,” Nikki scolded Nelson.

  “I'm eighty-two years old, Missy,” Nelson Millin snapped at Nikki, “and I'm not in the business of being nice to people who rock the boat. I've been in town. I hear what people are saying...a few traitors are saying some good things about you, though. Enough to make me sick.”

  “So go vomit,” Nikki snapped back. “Your opinion of me is meaningless,” she promised. “And let me make one thing perfectly clear, if you killed Helen Brendale, I will find out, and you will stand in a court of justice. Have I made myself clear, Mr. Millin?”

  “That woman is dead because someone wanted her dead, and that is none of my doing,” Nelson Millin fired back at Nikki and thumbed his cigarette at her.

  “Hey!” Hawk yelled, watching Nikki slap the lit cigarette off of her dress. “That's it, you’re under arrest for assault.”

  Nikki watched as Hawk pulled Nelson Millin out from behind the counter and walked him out of the store. “Read this man his rights and take him in,” he ordered the two cops standing at the gas pumps. “Handcuff him, too.”

  Nelson Millin threw a pair of angry eyes at Nikki. “I'm not done with you, Missy.”

  “You're done,” Hawk promised. “Handcuff this man. I'll be at the station shortly and write up the charge.”

  “My goodness,” Nikki said, feeling shook up, “why is that man so hateful?”

  “Like you,” Chief Daily sighed, “he moved up from the south. Nelson Millin was the head of a hate group in Mississippi, and before you ask, yes, it was the KKK. He spent some time in prison for burning down a black church. The white people of the town he was living in didn't like that Millin wanted to cause division and racial hatred, so they ran him out of town when he tried to come back after his prison term was done. And...”

  “And what?” Nikki pressed, looking down at a burnt spot on her dres
s that the cigarette created.

  “A white preacher turned up dead, but no one could pin the murder on Millin. Twenty-two years ago, give or take, that man turned up here, opened this gas station, and that's it. No one has ever had an ounce of trouble from him,” Chief Daily explained. “Now don't go hosing down a fire that's already been put out years ago, do you hear me?”

  “Sure,” Nikki said watching one of the cops handcuff Nelson Millin while the second cop read the man his rights. Nelson Millin cast a deadly glare at Nikki. The man's eyes caused her blood to turn cold. “Hawk, let's get out of here, okay?”

  “Suits me just fine,” Hawk said and with a caring arm led Nikki back to his jeep.

  Chapter Three

  “How am I supposed to tell Tori?” Nikki asked, struggling to forget Nelson Millin's angry face.

  Hawk swung his jeep into a parking space in front of the local diner downtown. From what he could see, the diner wasn't too packed. Turning off the jeep, he studied the flow of tourists walking around. “Thinner than yesterday.”

  “Lidia should have the store open by now,” Nikki said. Leaning forward, she removed a 9mm Luger from her right ankle. Opening the glove compartment, she slid the pistol inside. “I don't need the gun now. For a minute, back at the gas station, I wasn't so sure, though.”

  “Put the gun back on,” Hawk ordered Nikki.

  “But—”

  “Now,” Hawk said in a voice that left no room for argument. “I want that gun attached to your ankle at all times, Nikki, I mean it. When Millin makes bail, he'll be angrier than a wet hornet and with his eyes set on you.”

  “Oh Hawk, you don't think that hateful old man will try to harm me, do you?” Nikki asked.

  “Put the gun back on,” Hawk answered.

  Nikki sighed and reattached the Luger to her right ankle. “Happy?”