The Tao of the Viper: A Kate Pomeroy Mystery (The Kate Pomeroy Gothic Mystery Series Book 2)

by Linda Watkins

  Praise for The Tao of the Viper, A Kate Pomeroy Mystery

  "For those who love supernatural conspiracies and wickedly clever suspense, The Tao of the Viper by Linda Watkins is an excellent second installment of the Kate Pomeroy mystery series. The novel has something serious to say about the machinations of power, while patiently unveiling a captivating mystery and building on Watkins' engaging heroine. Fluidly moving between romance and suspense, The Tao of the Viper is a supernatural thriller with teeth, heart, and a visionary mind at the creative helm."

  ~Self-Publishing Review

  “Unlike many mystery genre reads, Linda Watkins cultivates a unique voice and an ability to weave disparate themes into her story of a doctor recovering from her own life's blows. Contrasts between character traits and underlying motivations and influences are well done, while Watkins injects fine, thought-provoking moments into Kate's discoveries that continually challenge reader anticipation and presumptions…It's a top pick for mystery readers who look for more than the usual whodunit.”

  ~Diane Donovan, Senior Reviewer, Midwest Book Review

  "The Tao of the Viper is a fantastic and dark paranormal mystery, with Linda Watkins delivering enough suspense and chills to knock it into the thriller genre as well. Kate is a great protagonist, balancing general affability with dark and intrusive fallibility, and making her as complex as her extraordinary family history ... an engrossing series for readers who enjoy mysteries with a supernatural twist, and those who are inevitably drawn in won't have to wait long for book three, Abducted."

  ~Jamie Michele for Readers Favorite

  "The combination of real-world crime and supernatural mystery is absolutely delightful ... The author has presented the tug of war between Kate's logical brain and the resemblance of the legends of the viper with the old man to perfection ... As a reader, I was glued to my kindle... The Tao of the Viper has the power to hold its readers until the last page ... The intrigue never ends and the plot moves at a steady pace. I would recommend this book to supernatural mystery lovers. The story will keep readers on their toes until the end."

  ~Ankita Shula for Readers Favorite

  "This novel sent chills down my spine from the moment I started reading. From the opening lines to the final paragraph, Linda Watkins gave readers something very special...I enjoyed how the author kept a clean balance between the supernatural and the real world in the novel...a very entertaining, action-packed and enjoyable concoction that had me hooked!"

  ~Rabia Tanveer for Readers Favorite

  The Tao of the Viper

  A Kate Pomeroy Mystery

  Linda Watkins

  THE TAO OF THE VIPER, A KATE POMEROY MYSTERY, Copyright © 2019 by Linda Watkins

  All rights reserved. This book was published by Linda Watkins under Argon Press in Muskegon, Michigan. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  Editing by Red Road Editing/Kristina Circelli (www.kristinacircelli.com)

  Cover design by Jessica Ozment, Magic Quill Graphics

  Published in the United States of America by Argon Press

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2019912025

  ISBN 978-1-944815-10-3 EB

  ISBN 978-1-944815-11-0 PB

  Created with Vellum

  Acknowledgments

  I’d like to thank my faithful friends, Marge LeBel and J. Scott Payne, for reading this work and providing me with much-needed input. I’d also like to thank my editor, Kristina Circelli, and my cover designer, Jessica Ozment, for their work on this project.

  Finally, I need to thank my personal trainer, Hayley, and hairstylist, Dee, for spending countless hours listening to my story and encouraging me as it progressed.

  For Jasper…

  Contents

  Untitled

  1. Kate

  2. The Old Man

  3. Kate

  4. Kate

  5. The Old Man

  6. Kate

  7. Kate

  8. The Old Man

  9. Kate

  10. Kate

  11. The Old Man

  12. Kate

  13. Kate

  14. The Old Man

  15. The Old Man

  16. Kate

  17. Kate

  18. Kate

  19. Kate

  20. Kate

  21. Kate

  22. Kate

  23. Kate

  24. The Old Man

  25. The Old Man

  26. Kate

  27. The Old Man

  28. Kate

  29. Kate

  30. The Old Man

  31. The Old Man

  32. Kate

  33. Kate

  34. Kate

  35. The Old Man

  36. The Old Man

  37. Kate

  38. Kate

  39. Kate

  40. Kate

  41. The Diary Of Maude Prichard

  42. Kate

  43. The Diary Of Maud Prichard

  44. Kate

  45. The Diary Of Maude Prichard

  46. The Diary Of Maude Prichard

  47. Kate

  48. The Diary Of Maude Prichard

  49. Kate

  50. The Diary Of Maude Prichard

  51. Kate

  52. The Old Man

  53. Kate

  54. Kate

  55. Kate

  56. The Old Man

  57. Kate

  58. Kate

  59. Kate

  60. Mary & Terry

  61. Kate

  62. Kate

  63. Kate

  64. Kate

  65. Kate

  66. Kate

  67. Kate

  68. Kate

  69. Kate

  70. Kate

  71. Kate

  72. Kate

  73. Kate

  74. Kate

  75. Kate

  76. Kate

  77. Kate

  78. Kate

  79. Kate

  80. Kate

  81. Kate

  82. Kate

  About the Author

  Also by Linda Watkins

  “I needed a new mystery.”

  ― John Fowles, The Magus

  1

  Kate

  Mid-October, Storm Island, Maine

  I DREAM OF dead people…

  Raoul – smiling his oily smile as he offers me a chocolate martini … Hettie – sitting on the lounge, her hand holding a chilled glass of chardonnay, fingernails painted a decadent shade of red … and my mother – drifting in and out, always surrounded by the scent of roses that lingers long after I awake.

  There are others, too – people I think I should know, but don’t.

  Curiously, my father, who was murdered, never makes his presence known. Perhaps, he is the only one who is truly resting in peace.

  I thought about my nightmare as I stared at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. My face was much too pale.

  Slowly, I inhaled, shaking my head as I tried to clear my thoughts. Now was not the time for this. I had work to do.

  I reached for my blush and placed a dab on each side of my face, rubbing it gently up my cheekbones.

  “Katy?”

  I turned.

  Jeremy was standing in the doorway, staring at me. He was dressed for work – faded jeans tucked into knee-high black rubber boots, sweatshirt, and jeans
jacket, all topped off with a Red Sox ball cap.

  I smiled. He looked unbelievably handsome.

  “What, honey?” I answered.

  “Bad dreams again last night?”

  “Yeah. Sorry, if I kept you up.”

  Frowning, he walked over to me and put his arms around my waist.

  “No need to say sorry,” he whispered. “But I’m lying right beside you and I’m there, you know, if you need to talk.”

  “I know. But it’s just…”

  My words trailed off. Was I ready to expose all my ghosts to the light of day?

  He put his hand under my chin, tilting my face up to his. “I used to have dreams, too. Bad ones after I returned from Afghanistan. I thought I could handle them – didn’t think I needed any help. So, I didn’t tell anyone. That was a mistake. Don’t you do the same. Talking helps. Believe me. I know.”

  I leaned into his embrace, silently blessing the day I’d met this wonderful man.

  “Okay,” I finally said. “Maybe after all this last-minute work on the clinic is over. Then we can take a deep breath and really talk about what happened last summer.”

  He grinned. “Good. Now, I’ve got to get going. The cooler weather has made the lobsters move to deeper water and I have to follow them. How about meeting me on the mainland tonight. Dinner and dancing? We’ve both been working too hard. Time to kick up our heels a bit.”

  I laughed, leaning forward, kissing him quickly on the lips.

  “You’re on, sailor. I’ll catch a water taxi and meet you on the wharf at, say, seven?”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  He kissed me again and gave me a firm hug, then strode out of the bathroom. I watched him go, then turned back toward the mirror.

  Despite the blush, I still look too pale.

  2

  The Old Man

  South Carolina, The Barrier Islands

  Two Weeks Earlier

  THUNDER ROLLED.

  The old man wheeled himself out onto the deck overlooking the ocean. Black clouds loomed on the horizon and waves that had earlier just lapped the shore now churned angrily, forming whitecaps in anticipation of the storm rapidly approaching South Carolina’s barrier islands. The old man’s hands gripped the rail as he stared at the hurricane that would soon wreak havoc all along the southern coastline.

  The strip of white sand that formed the beach before him was usually speckled with small children and tourists. But today, it sat vacant – deserted – as were all the other homes to the left and right of his. An evacuation order had been issued days before in anticipation of the category three storm that was now racing toward the islands. But the old man was determined to ride it out and had ordered his staff to do the same. However, upon rising that morning, he’d discovered they had all fled – absconded – leaving him to face the storm alone.

  His lips curled into a snarl. They would pay for abandoning him. Pay dearly. But now was not the time to think of revenge. No, now he had to marshal all his strength – all his power – to protect himself and his belongings from the approaching hurricane.

  Maude, he thought. How well-named it is.

  He laughed. Hurricane Maude would prove to be no match for him, not like the other Maude from his past.

  The memory of that woman and how she had stood before him in this house, unflinching, loomed large in his mind. He frowned. Just the thought of her was spoiling his mood and distracting him from the task at hand. He consciously tucked her memory away into the dark recesses of his mind. He’d retrieve her later after the storm had passed.

  Once again, he stared at the oncoming hurricane. The bright sky had now turned an ominous shade of gray and the wind, which had been just a gentle breeze, now pummeled his face, causing his long, wispy white hair to swirl about his head. For a moment, he closed his eyes, his confidence wavering. Did he still have the strength to command the elements? It had been such a long time since he had been tested in this way. The flesh he inhabited, he admitted, was weak and would not last much longer. Was this to be his end – would Hurricane Maude be his undoing?

  Refusing to give in, he opened his eyes and trained them on the horizon. Cold, icy blue, they were not the eyes of an old man.

  “Bring it on!” he screamed at the dark clouds. “Do your best! But I will not be defeated!”

  The storm raged, destroying homes up and down the coast, but, curiously, the old man’s house remained untouched.

  As the last gust of wind passed, the old man turned from the shore and wheeled himself back into the house. Picking up his cell phone, he quickly dialed. After three rings, the call was answered.

  “Hello?”

  “Terrance,” the old man growled.

  His grandson, Terrance Morrison, hesitated for a moment before answering.

  “Grandfather? Is that you?”

  “Yes, it’s me. Who the hell else do you think would be calling you from South Carolina?”

  “Are you all right?” Terrance asked, ignoring his grandfather’s angry retort. “We’ve been watching coverage of the hurricane. It looks bad. I assume you evacuated?”

  The old man laughed. “Never! Miss Maudie met her match in me today!”

  Terrance paused, not knowing how to respond.

  “You still there, boy?” the old man shouted. “It wouldn’t do to hang up on me. No, it wouldn’t do at all.”

  “I’m still here, Grandfather, and I’m glad you’re all right.”

  The old man chuckled unpleasantly. “Yes, I’m sure you are. Now, to the business at hand. I’m coming up there. There are things that need to be done and I will require your assistance.”

  Terrance gulped. “Mine? Here?”

  “Yes and yes. And, I’ll need that wife of yours to aid me also.”

  “Okay, okay,” Terrance stammered. “When will you arrive?”

  “As soon as I can. By next Monday at the latest. I’ll be coming by car.”

  “Why not fly, Grandfather? You’d get here so much quicker.”

  “Balderdash! You know I hate those flying contraptions! I’ll be in touch to let you know exactly when I’ll arrive. Have the south-facing room prepared. I always liked that view.”

  “Yes, Grandfather.”

  The old man hung up without saying goodbye. Taking a deep breath, he phoned a limo service and secured a car and driver for the journey north. He then wheeled himself to his room. He was in need of a good long rest.

  A week later, the driver pulled up to the old man’s house, surprised that the causeway to the island had reopened so soon and that the house he’d parked in front of was still standing. He put the old man’s suitcase in the trunk and assisted him into the backseat of the car. Then, he folded up the ancient wheelchair and placed that, too, in the trunk.

  “Where are we headed?” he asked. “The dispatcher wasn’t clear. Just said it was a long drive.”

  The old man didn’t respond. Instead he opened the car’s bar compartment, pulled out a bottle, and examined the label. After a minute, apparently satisfied, he poured himself three fingers, neat.

  He took a sip and licked his lips, then trained his eyes on the driver who was still waiting for a response.

  “Maine,” the old man finally said. “Storm Island, Maine.”

  3

  Kate

  The Clinic

  DRESSED IN JEANS and a sweatshirt, I checked my watch. I was going to be late – again. I grabbed a flannel jacket and hurried over to Stormview Manor, where work on my clinic was in process. The large estate, once owned by my deceased aunt and uncle, was all mine now and I could do with it as I pleased.

  I hugged myself as I walked. It was mid-October and the weather was beginning to turn, and not for the better. This would be my first winter in Maine and, as I rubbed my hands together to keep warm, I wondered if I’d survive it.

  Storm, the place I now called home, held many memories from my childhood. My mother and I had spent every summer here until I reached the a
ge of ten, when her death rocked my world.

  I hadn’t been back to the island since that time until I was sent here last summer for some much-needed R&R. During my stay, I learned of the island’s dubious history. A small, privately held piece of land just off the coast of Maine, it was originally settled back in the 1600s by a group of wise women who fled Puritan oppression. These women and their families were eventually hunted down by Puritan militia and were summarily executed for the crime of witchcraft.