by Susan Harper
“Monica met Brandon while she had been working at the prison as an on-site nurse. Apparently, they started seeing one another while he was still in prison, and the two of them got busted by the warden. She lost her job, but the two of them stayed in touch. She started helping him with his drug deals while he was in Florida. She was even the one who introduced Brandon to Kirk and started this whole mess. And when I started asking questions, she stole Brandon’s car and tried to run me down, but—”
“She got me instead, and she cracked her tooth against the steering wheel in the process,” Jefferson said with a huff. “Tell them what Jack told you when you came in for your interview.”
Felicity laughed. “So apparently when Jack was interviewing Monica at the station, she asked them how they knew she had been the one driving the car and not Brandon. Jack told her they had a private detective on the scene who found out about her little dentist appointment. She apparently rolled her eyes and went, ‘geeze, dang it, Felicity,’ and laughed. I guess there’s not a lot of hard feelings. Also, during her screening, Monica told Jack that she was pregnant with Brandon’s baby, which was the only reason she got so involved and tried to run me over. She was just trying to keep her baby’s daddy out of prison. Jack says Monica broke up with Brandon and is looking to turn over a new leaf, but she’ll probably spend a good amount of her pregnancy in jail for, you know, theft, drug dealing, and attempted murder. She’s got a good lawyer, and with the pregnancy, she’ll probably get a reduced sentence unless Jefferson and I poke the bear.”
“Are you going to show up to her court dates and parole hearings to make sure she stays put in jail?” Monte asked, looking toward Jefferson.
“I don’t know,” Jefferson griped. “I mean, she hit me with a car. I spent a night in the hospital. I’m pressing charges against her, but I have a hard time imagining myself fighting to keep her in prison if she’s pregnant. She broke up with Brandon, so hopefully that’s her trying to make a life for her kid, you know?”
“So why did Kirk kill Charles?” Veronica asked.
“So,” Felicity began. “According to Brandon, his father had no idea he was dealing drugs again. He found out his father was heading here to sell his car and to put it in the car show, so he stashed the drugs under the passenger’s seat. However, Kirk was out of town and his flight got delayed. He wasn’t going to make it back in time before Charles sold the car and Brandon had a chance to remove the drugs, so he changed the fan belt so the car would overheat, thus keeping Adam from buying the car. Kirk managed to get a flight in before the car show was over, so they decided to do the deal at the insurance office. Charles had apparently spotted Brandon with the fan belt and had followed him to confront him about messing up his car, but he wound up walking in on the deal. Brandon had thrown the fan belt down on the desk, and Kirk used it to strangle Charles right in front of Brandon.”
“Man, that’s awful,” Monte said. “I’m sure Brandon probably blamed himself for that.”
Felicity nodded. “He did, and Kirk threatened him to keep his mouth shut. They did the deal, and Brandon played his part in keeping quiet. In his panic, Brandon ditched his oil-covered shirt in the dumpster when he left the building and let Kirk handle hiding the body. Kirk must have thought that if he threw Charles in the elevator, the police would have a harder time figuring out exactly where he was killed, but Charles’s wallet had fallen out of his pocket and Kirk had failed to clean up the oil left behind on Bobby’s desk. Eventually, though, Brandon worked up enough courage to confront Kirk about killing his father.”
“It’s all so sad, but I’m glad it’s over,” Autumn declared. “Though, I’ll admit, working Charles’s case was a lot more exciting than what I normally deal with in the morgue.”
“That’s creepy, Autumn,” Jefferson said, and she just laughed.
“So what now, Felicity?” Autumn asked.
“Now Jefferson and I can just focus on Overton’s Events. Ever since Brandon and Kirk were arrested, the shop has gotten pretty famous, and after my interview that aired this morning, even more people are going to know about us. We have a whole new list of clients. Who knew that solving a local murder would attract people to our shop?” Felicity opened up their event book and showed off the large list of new bookings. Several people had come to talk to her about how she solved the murder, and many wound up booking her for parties and events in the process.
“And I think we need to re-market ourselves,” Jefferson said and then showed Felicity what he had been doodling. “What do you think?”
He revealed to the group a new sign logo. The words Overton’s Events was drawn carefully on the page, and the first O in Overton was now a magnifying glass. “Oh, wow!” Felicity laughed. “Jefferson, I love it!”
“I think it’ll look good hanging over the shop. We can decorate the shop a little to look like something out of a super-sleuth movie, and it’ll be a model for how we can do theme events,” Jefferson said proudly as they all congratulated him on his new design. “See? I can still be useful even in a cast. I’m not just the hired muscle.”
Felicity smiled as she held the illustration in her hands. She felt incredibly accomplished, and she liked Jefferson’s idea of playing off their new-found fame in a marketing ploy. She gave him a quick hug. “No, Jefferson, you’re not. Good job. I can’t wait to get started.”
Thanks for reading Dying for a Drive. I hope you enjoyed reading the story as much as I enjoyed writing it. If you did, it would be awesome if you left a review for me on Amazon and/or Goodreads.
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At the end of the book, I have included a preview of a book from my friend Stacey Alabaster, A Pie to Die For. It’s part of the popular Bakery Detectives Cozy Mystery series. It’s available on Amazon at:
FairfieldPublishing.com/pie-to-die-for
I’m also including a preview of the first cozy mystery from my friend Miles Lancaster, Murder in the Mountains. I really hope you like it!
FairfieldPublishing.com/murder-in-mountains
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Preview: A Pie to Die For
"But you don't understand, I use only the finest, organic ingredients." My voice was high-pitched as I pleaded my case to the policeman. Oh, this was just like an episode of Criminal Point. Hey, I wondered who the killer turned out to be. I shook my head. That's not important, Rachael, I scolded myself. What's important is getting yourself off this murder charge. Still, I hoped Pippa had recorded the ending of the episode.
I tried to steady my breathing as Jackson—Detective Whitaker—entered the room and threw a folder on the table, before studying the contents as though he was cramming for a test he had to take the next day. He rubbed his temples and frowned.
Is he even going to make eye contact with me? Is he just going to completely ignore the interaction we had at the fair? Pretend it never even happened.
"Jackson..." I started, before I was met with a steely glare. "Detective. Surely you can't think I had anything to do with this?"
Jackson looked up at me slowly. "Had you ever had any contact with Mrs. Batters before today?"
I shifted in my seat. "Yes," I had to admit. "I knew her a little from the store. She was always quite antagonistic towards me, but I'd never try to kill her!"
"Witnesses near the scene said that you two had an argument." He gave me that same steely glare. Where was the charming, flirty, sweet guy I'd meet earlier? He was now buried
beneath a suit and a huge attitude.
"Well...it wasn't an argument...she was just...winding me up, like she always does."
Jackson shot me a sharp look. "So, she was annoying you? Was she making you angry?"
"Well... Well..." I tripped over my words. He was now making me nervous for an entirely different reason than he had earlier. Those butterflies were back, but now they felt like daggers.
Come on, Rach. Everyone knows that the first suspect in Criminal Point is not the one that actually did it.
But how many people had Jackson already interviewed? Maybe he was saving me for last. Gosh, maybe my cherry pie had actually killed the woman!
"Answer the question please, Miss Robinson."
"Not angry, no. I was just frustrated."
"Frustrated?" A smile curled at his lips before he pounced. "Frustrated with Mrs. Batters?"
"No! The situation. Come on—you were there!" I tried to appeal to his sympathies, but he remained a brick wall.
"It doesn't matter whether I was there or not. That is entirely besides the point." He said the words a little too forcefully.
I swallowed. "I couldn't get any customers to try my cakes, and Bakermatic was luring everyone away with their free samples." I stopped as my brows shot up involuntarily. "Jackson! Sorry, Detective. Mrs. Batters ate at Bakermatic as well!"
My words came out in a stream of breathless blabber as I raced to get them out. "Bakermatic must be to blame! They cut corners, they use cheap ingredients. Oh, and I know how much Mrs. Batters loved their food! She was always eating there. Believe me, she made that very clear to me."
Jackson sat back and folded his arms across his chest. "Don't try to solve this case for us."
I sealed my lips. Looks like I might have to at this rate.
"We are investigating every place Mrs. Batters ate today. You don't need to worry about that."
I leaned forward and banged my palm on the table. "But I do need to worry about it! This is my job, my livelihood…my life on the line. If people think I am to blame, that will be the final nail in my bakery's coffin!" Oh, what a day. And I'd thought it was bad enough that I hadn't gotten any customers at my stand. Now I was being accused of killing a woman!
I could have sworn I saw a flicker of sympathy finally crawl across Jackson's face. He stood up and readjusted his tie, but he still refused to make full eye contact. "You're free to go, Miss Robinson," he said gently. There was that tone from earlier, finally. He seemed recognizable as a human at long last.
"Really?"
He nodded. "For the moment. But we might have some more questions for you later, so don't leave town."
I tried to make eye contact with him as I left, squirreling out from underneath his arm as he held the door open for me, but he just kept staring at the floor.
Did that mean he wasn't coming back to my bakery after all?
Pippa was still waiting for me when I returned home later that evening. There was a chill in the air, which meant that I headed straight for a blanket and the fireplace when I finally crawled in through the door. Pippa shot me a sympathetic look as I curled up and crumbled in front of the flames. How had today gone so wrong, so quickly?
"I recorded the last part of the show," Pippa said softly. "If you're up for watching it."
I groaned and lay on the carpet, my back straight against the floor like I was a little kid. "I don't think I can stomach it after what I just went through. Can you believe it? Accusing ME of killing Mrs. Batters? When I know that Bakermatic is to blame. I mean, Pippa, they must be! But this detective wouldn't even listen to me when I was trying to explain Bakermatic's dodgy practices to him."
Pippa leaned forward and took the lid off a pot, the smell of the brew hitting my nose. "Pippa, what is that?"
She grinned and stirred it, which only made the smell worse. I leaned back and covered my nose. "Thought it might be a bit heavy for you. I basically took every herb, tea, and spice that you had in your cabinet and came up with this! I call it 'Pippa's Delight'!"
"Yeah well, it doesn't sound too delightful." I sat up and scrunched up my nose. "Oh, what the heck—pour me a cup."
"Are you sure?" Pippa asked with a cheeky grin.
"Go on. I'll be brave."
I braced myself as the brown liquid hit the white mug.
It was as disgusting as I had imagined, but at least it made me laugh when the pungent concoction hit my tongue. Pippa always had a way of cheering me up. If it wasn't her unusual concoctions, or her ever changing hair color—red this week but pink the last, and purple a week before that—then it was her never-ending array of careers and job changes that entertained me and kept me on my toes. When you're trying to run your own business, forced to be responsible day in and day out, you have to live vicariously through some of your more free-spirited friends. And Pippa was definitely that: free-spirited.
"Hey!" I said suddenly, as an idea began to brew in my brain. I didn't know if it was the tea that suddenly brought all my senses to life or what it was, but I found myself slamming my mug on the table with new found enthusiasm. "Pippa, have you got a job at the moment?" I could never keep up with Pippa's present state of employment.
She shrugged as she kicked her feet up and lay back on the sofa. "Not really! I mean, I've got a couple of things in the works. Why's that?"
I pondered for a moment. "Pippa, if you could get a job at Bakermatic, you could see first hand what they’re up to!" My voice was a rush of excitement as I clapped my hands together. "You would get to find out the ways they cut corners, the bad ingredients they use, and, if you were really lucky, you might even overhear someone say something about Mrs. Batters!"
A gleam appeared in Pippa's green eyes. "Well, I do need a job, especially after today."
I raced on. "Yes! And you've got plenty of experience working in cafes."
"Yeah. I've worked in hundreds of places." She took a sip of the tea and managed to swallow it. She actually seemed to enjoy it.
"I know you've got a lot of experience. You're sure to get the job. They’re always looking for part-timers." Unfortunately, Bakermatic was planning on expanding the storefront even further, and that meant they were looking for even more employees to fill their big yellow store. "Pippa, this is the perfect plan! We'll get you an application first thing in the morning. Then you can start investigating!"
Pippa raised her eyebrows. "Investigating?"
I nodded and lay my head back down on the carpet. "Criminal Point—Belldale Style! Bakery Investigation Unit! I will investigate and do what I can from my end as well! Perhaps I could talk to people from all the other food stalls! Oh, Pippa, we're going to make a crack team of detectives!"
"The Bakery Detectives!"
We both started giggling but, as the full weight of the day's events started to pile up on me, I felt my stomach tighten. It might seem fun to send Pippa in to spy on Bakermatic, but this was serious. My bakery, my livelihood, and even my own freedom depended on it.
Thanks for reading a sample of my book, A Pie to Die For. I really hope you liked it. You can read the rest at:
FairfieldPublishing.com/pie-to-die-for
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Make sure you turn to the next page for the preview of Murder in the Mountains.
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Preview: Murder in the Mountains
Screams were not a normal part of the workday at Aspen Breeze. When Jennifer heard the anguished cry of the maid, she ran around the desk and sprinted out the door. Clint, not through with his breakfast, followed at her heels. The door to the room had been left open. The maid stood on the thick burgundy carpet in front of the unmade bed and pointed at the hot tub.
Water remained in the tub, but it wasn’t swirling. The occupant, a red-haired, slightly chubby man whose name Jennifer had forgotten, was face down. His blue running shorts had changed to
a darker blue due to dampness. Reddish colorations marred his throat. Another dark spot of blood mixed with hair around his right temple. Pale red splotches marred the water.
For a moment, she felt like the ground had opened and she had fallen into blackness. Legs weakened. Knees buckled. She shook her head and a few incoherent syllables came from her mouth. Clint’s arm grasped her around her waist.
“Step back. It’s okay,” he said.
It was a silly thing to say, he later thought. Clearly, it was not okay, but in times of stress people will often say and do stupid things.
He eased her backward, and then sat her down on the edge of the bed. He walked back and took a second look at the hot tub. He had seen dead bodies when he covered the police beat. It wasn’t a routine occurrence, but he had stood in the rain twice and on an asphalt pavement once as EMTs covered a dead man and lifted him into an ambulance.
By the time he turned around, Jennifer was back on her feet and the color had returned to her cheeks.
She patted her maid on the shoulder. “Okay, it’s all right. We have to call the police. You can go, Maria. Go to the office and lay down.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She glanced at Clint and saw he had his cell phone out.
“…at the Aspen Breeze Lodge,” he was saying. “There’s a dead body in Unit Nine. It doesn’t look like it was a natural death.” He nodded then slipped the cell phone in his pocket. “They said the chief was out on a call but should be here within fifteen minutes.”
“Good.” Jennifer put her hands on her hips. Her gaze stared toward the hot tub. A firm, determined tone came back in her voice.