Stormy Day Mysteries 5-Book Cozy Murder Mystery Series Bundle

by Angela Pepper

That’s why Peggy had us give her our statements while we were still at the lodge.

  At three o’clock in the afternoon, she finally released us, saying, “Best you drive back home now while it’s daylight, because once that sun sets, you’ll realize you’re not in your teens anymore.” She shook her head and muttered about the foolishness of us staying up all night playing board games.

  Christopher had already packed his things, so Jessica and I returned to our room to get our bags and the stowaway cat.

  Jessica rolled her clothes, item by item, and packed everything into her suitcase as though arranging sushi rolls.

  “You and Christopher are looking romantic,” she said.

  “Is that so?”

  I wasn’t really paying attention. I ruffled the back of my hair and then tried to roll my sweaters the way she’d shown me, so they’d be happy sweaters. After everything we’d been through, it felt good to worry about something silly, such as getting my clothes rolled just right.

  “Christopher regrets letting you leave him.”

  I snorted. “He didn’t let me leave. He helped me pack.”

  “I can’t believe you two broke up over a spider.”

  I raised my eyebrows and paused mid-sweater roll. “He told you? I thought he’d be too embarrassed.”

  “He says you trapped a huge spider under a bathroom cup on purpose, just to terrorize him, but he forgives you.”

  I scoffed and went back to rolling my sweater. “How generous of him to forgive me for something I didn’t do on purpose.”

  “Honestly, it’s his fault,” Jessica said. “I don’t know how anyone can see an upside-down cup and not assume there’s something awful hiding underneath, but then again not everyone grew up with my brothers. If it wasn’t a spider, it was fake dog droppings, or a plastic snake. One thing never changed. There was always something hiding under the bathroom cup.” She laughed. “And they even got you a few times, too, when you stayed over.”

  “They did?”

  Suddenly, I remembered. I’d just brushed my teeth at Jessica’s house, then picked up the bathroom’s plastic cup to find an enormous, hairy tarantula the size of my palm staring back at me.

  “They got you with Tito, their fake tarantula,” she said. “When Christopher told me about the spider incident, I didn’t tell him you learned that trick from my brothers. I was already having a tough time keeping a straight face.”

  “Tito,” I said. “I remember that stupid plastic thing, with its glow-in-the-dark eyes.” I sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed my forehead. Jeffrey climbed onto my lap to tickle my face with his tail.

  I stroked his soft gray fur while a terrible realization washed over me. Now that Jessica had mentioned it, I could clearly remember the Kelly brothers’ plastic spider under the bathroom’s opaque water cup. I could see their freckled faces, hear their boyish laughter.

  My cheeks felt hot. Maybe Christopher was right, and I had left the spider under the cup on purpose to scare him.

  As an eyewitness to my own life, I wasn’t as reliable as I thought.

  How well did I really know myself?

  The night of the spider incident, we’d been fighting throughout the day. For the life of me, I couldn’t remember how it had started, but I could see myself getting furious, fists clenched, like an angry woman in a movie.

  I’d already gotten changed for bed, and it was late. We had a big meeting in the morning with some investors, but he was doing something on the computer and wouldn’t come to bed. Each time I looked at the clock, I got more annoyed at Christopher for making my insomnia worse. I brushed my teeth furiously, making my gums bleed. And then… I saw the spider. I got the idea to scare him, to even the score for how much he’d annoyed me.

  Or did I?

  There was an alternate movie in my head. In this one, I could see myself from a distance, like a stranger. This woman trapped the spider and went looking for a sheet of paper, so she could escort the unwanted houseguest outside. Before she could complete the task, she got distracted and wound up in the bedroom. She didn’t forget about the spider, though. When she climbed into bed, she remembered, and imagined how its discovery would alarm her fiancé. She considered returning to her search for a sheet of paper, but her pillow was so soft. And she didn’t exactly hate the idea of her fiancé screaming.

  The second version was as bad as the first.

  I searched my memory for a third version, in which I legitimately forgot, but there wasn’t one, because how can you have a vivid recollection of yourself being absent-minded?

  We finished packing and then loaded the car.

  Christopher offered to drive, saying he’d taken one of his cousin’s pills and would be more than alert for the next few hours. I thanked him and climbed into the back seat with Jeffrey and my thoughts.

  As I went over and over my memory of the night that ended our engagement, I only made it messier, like a bad photocopy of a fax of a photocopy.

  We got home after sunset. Logan’s side of the duplex was dark and his truck wasn’t in the driveway. While we unpacked the car, I sent him a brief text message to let him know I was home. He replied immediately, saying he’d be back by dinner the next evening.

  Jeffrey did a frantic patrol of his house, making sure everything was where it was supposed to be, then gobbled down a full bowl of stale kitty kibbles, then tossed them back up again into Christopher’s shoe.

  I apologized and took the shoe to the bathroom to clean it while Jessica searched through the refrigerator for dinner ingredients.

  I looked up from the wet shoe to find Christopher standing in the bathroom doorway, an unreadable expression on his face. His hazel eyes locked on mine.

  “You’d make a good mother,” he said.

  I nearly fumbled the shoe into the toilet. “Because I’m great at washing barf off things? Thanks.”

  “Because you’re great at everything.” He fidgeted with the light switches on the wall, flicking the fan on and off. “I mean it, Stormy. Is there anything you can’t do? The way you handled things up at the lodge was almost surreal. I know I was there, but now it all feels like a weird dream.”

  “How many of Butch’s pills did you take?”

  He pinched the top of his nose and closed his eyes. “I guess everything will make more sense in the morning.”

  “Sleep will help.” I gave his shoe another rinse, then started stuffing the interior with a towel.

  “Is there anything I could do or say to convince you to pack your things and drive to Seattle with me tomorrow morning? Your cat can come.”

  I swallowed. “I don’t think my cat wants to leave Misty Falls.”

  He held very still in the doorway. “Your cat could give it a shot, maybe for a few months.”

  “My cat already knows what he likes.”

  “The Seattle house has an incredible view, and a beautiful garden. It’s in a great neighborhood, quiet and peaceful, like living in a small town, but close to everything. Jeffrey would love it.”

  “Christopher, I—”

  “Don’t say it. Don’t say no. Promise you’ll sleep on it and decide in the morning.”

  I nodded and continued stuffing the towel into his shoe.

  A quiet moment passed, then Jessica called to say dinner was ready.

  Christopher turned to leave, but I stopped him with my hand on his arm.

  “I’m sorry about the spider,” I said. “My memory might be rearranging things, but I’m pretty sure you were right, and I did leave the spider under the bathroom cup on purpose to annoy you.”

  “Pretty sure? Can you give me a percent?”

  “Seventy percent. No. Eighty. Eighty-five.”

  My hand was still on his arm. He slipped his hand around mine and gave it a squeeze. “Thank you.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said again.

  “Thank you,” he repeated.

  Christopher slept on the couch.

  He was gone before I got up in the m
orning.

  I’d known from the way he was acting after dinner—quiet, polite, not making eye contact—that he would leave without talking to me. Christopher hated to hear the word no, and would walk away from business deals when he sensed a rejection was coming.

  He’d left behind a note, written on Flying Squirrel Lodge stationery.

  Dear Stormy, Jessica, and Jeffrey:

  Thank you for your friendship and the memories. Remember, my door is always open for you. Seattle has many wonderful restaurants, art galleries, and concert halls. You should come visit some time.

  Jeffrey, you’re one lucky guy.

  Kind regards,

  Christopher Fairchild

  Chapter 38

  The days after I returned from the lodge were hectic.

  Both of my gift store employees came down with stomach flu, so I was on retail duty through the end of the week and the weekend.

  News about what had happened at the lodge spread like wildfire, which resulted in a phenomenal sales week when word got out that I could be found inside Glorious Gifts. People came in to get gossip and left with cloth napkins, scented candles, and several of the new glass fruit centerpieces, which weren’t cheap. I didn’t reveal any more details than they could have read in the Misty Falls Mirror, but everyone seemed happy enough just to see me and talk to me.

  On Sunday afternoon, Ruby stopped by with pastries. She didn’t pry, but told me to come by her store when things settled down. “You can catch me up on how things are going with a certain lawyer,” she said with a knowing wink.

  “Who?” I asked innocently. “If you mean Logan Sanderson, it’s nothing but business as usual.”

  Laughing, she gave me a big hug, then left, holding open the door for more curious customers.

  The truth was, it had been business as usual with Logan. We’d both been busy, but even when we had crossed paths, neither of us brought up what we’d discussed on the phone when I was at the lodge. I wondered if my memory was playing tricks on me, or if something had happened on his trip.

  At closing time on Sunday, he showed up as I was closing out the cash register.

  My breath caught in my throat when I realized the handsome man who’d walked in the door was there to see me. He wasn’t wearing his usual weekend gear of patched jeans and baggy sweaters, nor was he dressed in his other extreme, his weekday tailored suits. He wore dark, slim-fitting jeans and a stylish leather jacket. Under the jacket was a blue button-down shirt that made his bright eyes dazzle. His beard was trimmed neatly and his neck had that pink look of having just been shaved.

  “Here you are,” Logan said. “I should have known I’d find you in the gift shop. All the bad seeds hang out here.”

  “If I had known you were looking for me, I would have hidden myself better.” I reached across the counter and touched the sleeve of his leather jacket. “Someone’s been shopping.”

  He locked eyes with me and smiled. “I had to step up my game, because the woman I’m trying to date has a knack for fashion. She claims to buy her outfits straight off the mannequin in the window display, but I don’t believe her. The lady has style.”

  I laughed, leaned forward, then looked at his mouth and pulled back. I’d nearly leaned across the counter and kissed him without realizing it. Logan had that effect on me, where he made me feel as giddy as a teenager, yet also comfortable and relaxed, as though I was with a close friend.

  “Well, it’s a great jacket,” I said. “This woman you’re trying to date will probably compliment you on it. She might even notice how the blue shirt brings out your eyes.” I busied myself with the final steps of closing the cash register for the day.

  “Being color blind, I’ll have to take her word for it.” He leaned on the counter and glanced around the store while he waited for me to finish.

  I grabbed my coat from the office and jingled my keys.

  “Now what?” he asked.

  “We leave and lock the door.”

  “I mean after that. Dinner?”

  I crossed my arms. “This woman you’re trying to date, is that how you ask her out?”

  He grinned. “Stormy Day, I know this is short notice, but will you do me the honor of accompanying me to Accio Bistro for dinner tonight?”

  “Are you sure we’re not banned from that place?”

  “If they so much as hint at banning us, I’ll sue them six ways to Sunday.”

  I played up a dramatic shudder. “Mr. Sanderson! When you get all litigious like that, you make me weak in the knees.”

  “Then this date is off to a good start.”

  The waiters gave us some funny looks, but we weren’t turned away from Accio Bistro.

  Over dinner, we discussed a few of our ongoing cases, and I caught him up on the few details he didn’t already know about what had happened up at the lodge.

  When I was done, he tented his fingers and said, “I bet you’d like to know what Butch Fairchild was in prison for.”

  I inhaled sharply and leaned in. “Tell me.”

  He leaned in until our foreheads were nearly touching. “Paper hanging,” he said. “Otherwise known as check kiting. Butch claimed he’d written the checks while sleepwalking. The judge was sympathetic and let him off the first time, but not the second.”

  I laughed. “I wonder if he really was sleepwalking. I saw him circle around and then sleep on the floor like a dog.”

  “He needs someone to keep tabs on him.”

  “You should have seen the look on his face when Jessica suggested he get a babysitter.”

  Logan laughed and rubbed his face. “Hopefully this is the end of his trouble.”

  “At least he’s still alive. Dion didn’t confess to it, but we’re guessing he figured out that Butch moved the body and then whacked him on the head and left him out in the rain.”

  “Maybe Dion would have hit him again, if Christopher hadn’t been there.”

  “Maybe.” I leaned back and took a sip of my wine. “How did your trip go? We’ve hardly talked about it.”

  Logan shrugged. “No murders or walking zombie corpses. Not much to discuss.”

  The waiter arrived with our lemon mousse. I took a bite. The dessert tasted as good as it looked.

  “This is amazing,” I said. “Stop watching the door. Christopher’s in Seattle. He’s not going to come in and hit your fist with his face.”

  Logan laughed. “I hate it when guys hit my fist with their faces.”

  “And, for the record, nothing happened between us up at the lodge. We’re just friends, and whatever we had, romantically, is gone.”

  “Why didn’t it work out with you two?”

  I frowned at my lemon mousse. “Mixing business and pleasure, among other things. We were so intertwined. Even during the times we weren’t dating, we were still… intertwined.”

  Logan cleared his throat. “That sounds familiar.”

  I couldn’t meet his eyes. I hadn’t seen the parallel, or I wouldn’t have worded it that way.

  He continued, “Living under the same roof, working together on cases, then trying to mix business and pleasure. That’s a recipe for getting sick of each other.”

  I looked up, into his blue eyes, and felt myself falling—falling forever.

  “Logan Sanderson, I might get sick of you one day, but it hasn’t happened yet.”

  He blinked. “That’s not the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard, but it’s making me smile.” He grinned. “And I feel the same way about you.”

  “We can make this work. We just need some ground rules.”

  “How about just one rule?”

  I raised my eyebrows and nodded for him to tell me the rule.

  “One rule,” he said. “On any given day, our relationship is either business or pleasure. One or the other.”

  I took a breath. It wasn’t a bad rule.

  “Agreed,” I said.

  “Let’s shake on it. We already discussed case work at the start of dinner, s
o today’s a business day.”

  I shook his hand. “Yes, sir. All business today. We are in complete agreement.”

  “Good. Let’s order another lemon mousse to make up for the one we didn’t have last time.”

  I gave him a look of admiration. “You are just full of excellent ideas tonight.”

  “I am.” He winked at me, then looked around for our waiter.

  We discussed some more business over our second dessert, then drove home in our own vehicles.

  He gave me a business-like wave goodbye as we walked to our separate doors.

  I spent the remainder of the evening in a pleasant daze.

  Jessica went to bed at eleven-thirty, but I stayed up to finish catching up on some of my favorite TV shows.

  Someone knocked on the door at 12:01 a.m.

  I ran to the door and flung it open.

  Logan stood on the step with a bouquet of flowers.

  “Today’s a new day,” I said.

  He stepped inside, tossed the flowers on the table, took me in his arms, and kissed me.

  Death of a

  Modern King

  Stormy Day Mystery #4

  Angela Pepper

  JEFFREY BLUE PRESS | WWW.ANGELAPEPPER.COM

  Chapter 1

  Inside the spacious kitchen of the mansion, Erica Garcia dropped a handful of roasted nuts on a cutting board and pulverized them with a sharp knife, releasing her frustration.

  Erica had worked as a maid for the Koenig family for twelve years, three months, and five days. She’d witnessed a number of changes, but nothing had rattled her quite so much until now.

  A disaster of these proportions was bound to happen, given how much Mr. Dieter Koenig loved his entertainment.

  The family’s last name, Koenig, was German for king, and Dieter embraced his role as the unofficial king of Misty Falls. After the death of his wife, he’d taken to throwing grand dinner parties, inviting guests he found interesting.

  Eight months ago, he’d brought in a fortune teller. She’d been murdered not long after her visit to the mansion. After that, a dark pall settled over the estate. Erica was the most superstitious of the staff, but even the non-believers couldn’t deny the fog of danger that filled the mansion’s rooms and rolled through long, darkened hallways. The once-boisterous staff now spoke in hushed tones and startled like mice over the clatter of a dropped knife.