The Tales of a Tenacious Housesitter
Home Sweet Murder
Home for the Murder
Bring Home the Murder
Bring Home the Murder
Theresa M. Jarvela
North Star Press of St. Cloud, Inc.
St. Cloud, Minnesota
Copyright © 2015 Theresa M. Jarvela
Cover image © iStock/Getty Images
Print ISBN: 978-0-87839-809-6
eBook ISBN: 978-1-68201-006-8
All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
First Edition: September 2015
Published by
North Star Press of St. Cloud, Inc.
P.O. Box 451
St. Cloud, Minnesota 56302
www.northstarpress.com
This book is dedicated to those who enjoy reading about Meggie’s housesitting adventures as much as I enjoy writing about them.
Table of Contents
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
Acknowledgments
Chapter 1
Baby-boomer Meggie Moore squeezed a wedge of lemon into her iced tea. “Molly plans to leave for North Dakota at the beginning of July to visit Michael.” She sat back against the cushioned booth in Pine Lake Café and glanced out the window. The small town of Pine Lake bustled with tourists. “She’ll return to Minnesota by the end of the month.”
“I can’t believe you’re actually going to do it.” Shirley Wright grimaced and straightened her cherry-red top across her wide girth. “Just when I think you can’t get any wackier, you do something beyond wacky. I seriously wonder about you.”
Meggie’s lean frame stiffened. She set her drink down and looked at her longtime friend. Shirley’s short stature contradicted her vocal abilities. “What do you mean you don’t think I’m actually going to do it? I gave them my word.” Meggie picked up her paper napkin and opened it to dab her mouth. “Michael’s been working in North Dakota for months. It’s not easy for either of them being apart so long. They need this time together. Besides, housesitting their hobby farm will be a dream come true.”
“You and your word.” Shirley clicked her tongue. “I’ve known you for how many years?”
“Too many to count, I’m afraid.” Meggie’s lips curled. “I lost track somewhere between a lot and too many.” Meggie tucked a scattering of highlighted tendrils behind her ear. She recalled the first time they met, their high school years together and their first gray hairs.
Audrey Peterson, petite and unassuming, looked from Meggie to Shirley and giggled. “You two are such fun. Your friendship is definitely one of a kind.”
“Miss Goody Two-Shoes never goes back on her word. You could get out of it if you wanted to.” Shirley looked at Audrey for support.
Audrey, not usually one to get involved, smiled at Meggie. “Shirley could be right. You might find it uncomfortable if . . .”
“If the house is haunted?” Meggie rubbed the back of her neck. “I’m not sure I believe in ghosts. Besides, if Molly believes the house is haunted, it doesn’t seem to bother her, and as for Michael, he’s on the fence about it.” She looked at both her friends. “I promised the Rileys I’d housesit, and that’s what I intend to do.”
“I can see it now.” Shirley raised her hand palm out and moved it from one side to the other. “Eccentric Baby-boomer Frightened to Death—Ghost Suspected.” Shirley added extra sugar to her iced tea, gathered the empty packets together and leaned forward. “I think that husband of yours needs to keep you on a short leash. Before you or somebody else gets hurt.”
Meggie raised her eyebrow. “Short leash? Believe me, Walter’s tried. Unfortunately for him, I never learned to heel.”
Shirley stirred her tea and took a sip. “Well, lose my phone number if you get scared out of your wits. I’ve risked my life more than once for you, and I have no intention of any more repeat performances. BFF or not.” She flicked a crumb off her ample bosom and chuckled. “I would love to hear what your hubbie has to say about your next little adventure. I bet he doesn’t even know about it.”
“Housesitting a hobby farm? At your age?” Walter, slightly overweight, crossed his arms and leaned against the kitchen counter. He glared at Meggie. “What are you thinking?”
She opened her mouth to speak but he cut her off. “Oh, that’s right. I forgot. You don’t think.”
“Walter, just listen.”
“I never approved of your harebrained idea to housesit for extra money in the first place. You know that. But did you consider my feelings?”
“Walter, please.”
“Three housesitting jobs, three murders. No, let me correct that.” He held up four fingers. “Four murders. I forgot you doubled up on that last housesitting adventure and set a record.”
He shook his head. “My gosh, Meggie. You barely escaped with your life the last time. Not to mention the lives of your sidekicks. But you just keep on truckin’.” Walter carried his coffee to the kitchen table and sat down. He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Don’t you want us to enjoy our golden years together?”
Meggie wiped her hands on the dish towel, sat down next to him and took his hand. She had never seen her husband so frustrated. “What could possibly go wrong on a hobby farm?”
Walter’s eyes grew round. “With you involved—anything and everything.”
“Hon, do you remember how good it felt when you started your bucket list?” She paused. “That bucket list gave your life purpose, didn’t it?”
Walter squirmed in his chair, then nodded slightly.
“Shouldn’t I have the right to a bucket list?” In a softer voice she added, “You know I’ve always wanted to live on a hobby farm. At my age, this is the closest I’ll ever get to that dream. It’s only for a month.”
Walter didn’t say anything right away. Then he straightened his back and smiled at his wife. “I suppose you deserve to live out your dreams, too.” He patted her hand. “And if it’s your dream to wake at the crack of dawn, feed the chickens, slop the hogs and shovel manure, who am I to stop you from living that dream?”
Meggie ignored Walter’s sarcasm and threw her arms around him. “I knew you would understand.”
“Besides,” Walter whispered in her ear, “you won’t be alone out there.”
A spark of hope flitted inside her. She leaned back and looked him in the eye. Had he changed his mind about joining her on the farm? “What do you mean?”
Walter grinned, raised his camouflage-colored coffee mug and winked. “The place is haunted, right?”
The bell tinkled above the door at Hearts and Flowers Gift Shop in
downtown Pine Lake. Meggie stepped inside and glanced at her wrist watch. To her surprise she had made record time.
“Good morning, dear. You’re early.” Vera Cunningham, a spry gray-haired lady in her seventies, stood behind the till and glanced up at Meggie. “It was so good of you to come in this morning and help out.” Her pen scratched across a note pad. “I know I didn’t give you much notice. I would’ve understood if you couldn’t make it.”
Meggie smiled and held her hand up. “That’s perfectly fine. I didn’t have any plans for today. Walter left the house early, and I don’t imagine he’ll return until late this afternoon.”
“Golfing?” Vera closed the till and walked around the counter. Her shoes clicked across the tiled floor. She placed a hand on Meggie’s arm and her eyes sparkled. “A man should leave his castle occasionally and enjoy himself.”
Meggie slipped off her windbreaker. “I agree. However, his castle has a lawn that needs mowing, and the queen doesn’t intend to mow it.” She grinned at Vera, walked to the back of the shop and pushed aside the breakroom curtain.
She hung her windbreaker on the coat tree and stepped over to deposit her purse in Vera’s desk. A book lay inside the desk drawer. She picked it up. Her brow puckered when she read the title. “I didn’t know you were interested in ghost tales, Vera.”
Vera’s eyes darted towards the book. “Would you like a cup of tea before the day begins? I do believe we have time.”
“Tea sounds wonderful.” Meggie set the book down and closed the drawer. “I didn’t have my caffeine this morning. Would you like me to serve the tea?”
“No, you just sit down. Let me wait on you for a change.” Vera poured steaming water into a blue-and-white teapot. She reached into the cupboard and took two cups off the shelf.
Meggie sat down at the table and lifted the vase of pink carnations. She sniffed the floral fragrance, positioned the vase in the center of the table, and twisted it until a bright pink carnation faced her.
Vera set two cups of tea on the table and a plate of scones. “I stopped by Swenson’s bakery this morning. They have the most delicious orange nut scones.” She pulled her chair close to the table and avoided Meggie’s eyes. “This organic chai tea’s good, don’t you agree?”
“It’s very good.” Meggie waited for a response to her statement but when she failed to receive one said, “Vera, are you avoiding my question?”
Vera set her teacup down. She reached for a scone, broke it in half and brushed the crumbs from her fingers. “Dear, you know I’m not one to interfere in anyone’s business.”
“I know that.” Meggie studied Vera over the rim of her teacup.
“But you see I had good reason to check that book out of the library. I’m not at all familiar with ghosts.” She wrinkled her nose. “Truth be told, I don’t believe in them.”
Meggie bit into her scone and waited for her friend to continue.
“I suppose curiosity got the better of me when you volunteered to housesit at Molly and Michael’s hobby farm.” Vera patted the corner of her mouth with a napkin. “While I may not believe in ghosts, I thought it a good idea to see if anyone claimed to be injured by them.”
Meggie suppressed a giggle and cocked her head. “Are you worried about me?”
“Please don’t take this the wrong way, dear.” Vera twisted the napkin in her hand. “It’s just that I worry about you when you housesit.” She cleared her throat and seemed to have a difficult time continuing. “While I can’t foresee anything untoward happening at Molly and Michael’s farm, I thought it pertinent to learn all I could about the supernatural.”
She looked to Meggie for a response. When there wasn’t any, she continued, “I’d then be able to impart the information to you in the unlikely event there’s anything to this ghost business of Molly’s.” Stumbling over her words, Vera quickly added, “And if need be, you’d be prepared to defend yourself.”
“I’m sure I’ll be fine.” Meggie patted Vera’s hand. “Besides, to my knowledge ghosts don’t hurt people. They just scare the living daylights out of them.”
Chapter 2
The morning sun crept above the horizon and brightened a world shaded in muted gray. A gentle wind followed. It fluttered the bedroom curtains and feathered Meggie’s face. She stirred, her eyes closed but ears tuned to a familiar drone from the other side of the bed. Walter snored like a freight train.
Meggie lifted her head off the pillow and glanced at the bedside clock. Time to get up. She slid quietly out of bed and crept out of the bedroom.
In the kitchen, Meggie poured a cup of coffee and dropped two slices of whole wheat bread into the toaster. She gazed out the window at the backyard. An unfamiliar cat slunk across the dew-covered lawn and stole through the neighbor’s fence. Seconds later the neighbor’s dog barked, and the feline squeezed back through the fence and ran across the lawn in the opposite direction.
The toast popped up. She spread the slices of toast with raspberry butter and carried her breakfast to the table. While eating she paged through a gardening magazine, read a short article on the care of roses and reveled in the ambience of a quiet summer morning.
The phone rang. She rose from the table and picked up the portable, glancing at the caller ID. She sighed, and her face took on a pinched expression. After several minutes she returned the phone to its cradle. She mumbled to herself and began clearing her breakfast dishes.
After latching the dishwasher door she turned around and almost collided with Walter. He hovered over her. His eyes bulged. Fingers wiggled in the air. “Boo!”
“What do you think you’re doing?” She leaned against the counter and crossed her arms.
“I’m saying good morning Casper style.” He threw back his shoulders. “Today is your big day. It’s off to the farm.”
“Does Casper want some breakfast before he floats out the door?” Meggie pecked him on the cheek and moved away from the counter. She opened the refrigerator and reached for the orange juice.
“So what’s this you were mumbling about?”
“You know Shirley. She feels it her duty to watch over me like a mother hen. She doesn’t like the fact I’m housesitting a house that might be haunted.”
Walter chuckled and sat down. “I’m sure she means well.”
Meggie spied a container of night crawlers on the second shelf in the refrigerator and tightened the plastic cover with her fingers. “You have to remember to keep the lid locked down on these night crawlers, or we’ll have a mess like we did last summer.”
“Don’t worry about the crawlers. Bill and I plan to feed them to unsuspecting fish the first chance we get. That is, if Shirley lets him out of the house.” He paused. “If you can break away from the farm, you and I could take the pontoon out some time next week.”
Meggie admitted a pontoon excursion sounded like fun. She joined Walter at the table while he ate his breakfast, and together they made plans for the outing. They talked fish for several minutes. Then Walter changed the subject to the supernatural.
Meggie listened patiently to her husband’s ghost stories. When she had enough she rose from the table and positioned herself behind his chair. She placed her index finger in the center of his bald spot and circled the small area with her fingertip.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Walter craned his neck and looked up at her.
“I’m checking the crystal ball to see if it predicts ghosts on the hobby farm.” She rubbed a little harder. “Nope, no ghosts. Oh, but wait a minute. It does predict Taco Night at the Legion Club will be cancelled if you’re late for work.”
Walter chuckled and looked at the wall clock. “You’re right. I better get out of here.” He stood and chucked her under the chin. “You know I’m just trying to give you a hard time.”
She pressed her lips togethe
r and gave him a curt nod, then rattled around in the cupboard. After locating his camo travel mug, she filled it with coffee and handed it to him. When he couldn’t find his Minnesota Twins cap, she pointed to the end of the kitchen table.
Walter flushed. He slapped the cap on his head, bent down and kissed her on the cheek. “Call me tonight after you settle in.”
Meggie followed him to the front door and watched him stroll down the walk to his pickup truck. Peppie, their tom cat, crawled out from underneath the truck and meandered up the walk toward the house. The feline sashayed through the front door with his tail in the air, eyed his master, then continued on his way.
Later that morning, Meggie sang along to an old Beatles tune and tapped the steering wheel of her Volkswagen Bug. She looked forward to her next adventure. Warm air blew through the driver’s window and tossed her hair. She removed a lock from the corner of her eye, tucked it behind her ear and turned the radio up.
The Bug clipped along Highway 52, past several farms, corn fields, and pastures. Meggie admired a ranch-style house hemmed with brightly colored flowers. She watched a small boy barrel out its front door and jump off the porch. He dashed across the yard, a dog in hot pursuit.
A short time later, she turned off the highway and into the small town of Bluff. When she passed St. James Catholic Church, Molly’s suggestion sparked her mind. Maybe she would take her young friend’s advice, call the chairwoman of the church’s summer bazaar and volunteer to help. She might need a bit of distraction from her daily routine at the farm.
Minutes later she left the town of Bluff behind and found herself on a familiar dirt road. She hadn’t gone far when the Bug began to shake back and forth on the washboard road. She veered the car to the right and rode the shoulder of the road until the gravel smoothed out.
Bring Home the Murder Page 1