Small Town Corruption
Page 7
“I now pronounce you,” the judge said, smiling boldly himself, “husband and wife!”
Susan and Pete kissed passionately.
Dana flicked a tear out of the corner of her eye and laughed joyfully.
*** The End ***
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About the Author
Liz lives in the foothills of the Canadian Rockies with her husband Rick and Golden Lab, Abbie.
She's had a lifelong penchant for mysteries of all kinds. As a girl, she loved reading Nancy Drew and Hardy Boys stories before graduating on to Agatha Christie books. Figuring out who the culprit was always seemed to capture her imagination. Now she enjoys writing mysteries herself.
Not content to stay in one genre, she has written novels in mystery & suspense/romance and most recently - cozy mysteries.
When she's not writing she is hiking, camping and enjoying the great outdoors.
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lturnercpg@sasktel.net.
Visit her Amazon Author Page for the complete list of books.
Go to the next page to see a Preview of:
Murder: The Missing Necklace.
Preview of:
Murder: The Missing Necklace
Prologue:
Pamela Milton walked unsteadily down the sleek dock jutting into the lake. She muttered under her breath about her husband’s foul treatment of her before deciding to say it aloud since there wasn’t anyone else around.
What do I care if someone hears me, anyway? she thought.
“Chip Milton is an old windbag!” she said, gaining confidence as she heard her words echo lowly around the mountains lining their property. “His ego is larger than the whole state of Colorado!” she added, shouting this time. “Chip Milton…should drop dead!”
Pamela shrieked gleefully. She twirled what was left of the gin in her tumbler, knocked it back, and then leaned over the railing to look out at the view.
She and her husband—back when they still loved each other—had chosen the plot of land in a small town in central Colorado because of its view. The land, covered in snow during the colder months, was blanketed with soft grass and scrubby plants now that it was June. It ran into a deep natural lake that served as one of the main selling points for the remote town, along with the nearby ski resorts.
It was home to a few thousand people, all extremely wealthy.
Feeling dizzy, Pamela gripped the railing tighter. She expelled the air through her mouth and threw her head back against the breeze. The glass of gin slipped from her hand and passed beneath the water with a satisfying plop.
Pamela gathered the layers of chiffon that made up the bottom of her dress and turned to leave; she had to be at her daughter’s big recital soon and guests would be arriving any moment now.
“Oh, hello,” she said to the figure coming up the dock from the shore. “I was just getting some air.” She waved her hands around to demonstrate.
“May I help you up to the house? I wouldn’t want you to spoil that lovely dress,” the figure said.
Pamela felt the insinuation that she couldn’t handle herself like a slap to the face. Shaking her head firmly, she said, “No, thank you. I’ve got it.” She then hiked the flowy fabric to her knees and marched forward.
“Please, let me.” The figure caught up with her and reached around to steady her.
The landscape grew blurry around Pamela and she was too tired to protest again. So she relented, allowing herself to be led forward.
Suddenly, she wrenched herself away. “What are you doing?” she demanded, trying to focus her vision. She shot her most indignant look. “I think I’ve got it by now.” She huffed and began walking alone up the house, but then she was grabbed from behind.
She screamed and slapped at the hands pulling her, but they were too far from the house to be heard and the landscape absorbed her shrieks.
Chapter 1
Deep Breath
Earlier that evening:
Leslie Amstel laughed out loud from her porch swing that looked out into her manicured front lawn. Even though she paid a landscaping company to take care of the plants, trees, and Bermuda grass, she still got a deep sense of satisfaction from admiring ‘her’ handiwork.
After all, she often mused, I’m the one who chooses and arranges everything.
Anybody could do the grunt work; she used to do it herself before her joints got bad. Not everyone, however, had her eye for balance and her hard-won knowledge of exactly what plants the chilly climate could support. Now that it was nearly summer, the flowers had been in full bloom for a while, their blues and purples gracing the sides of her drive exactly where she had envisioned them to.
This evening, she wasn’t admiring her handiwork though. Instead, she was reading a new novel by her favorite writer, and she had just come across a particularly funny passage. She shook her head, still chuckling. However, the pause in her reading led her to glance at her watch.
She jumped up, seeing she was late.
Hurrying as fast as a seventy-year-old woman could hurry, she changed into her blue velvet dress and smoothed her gray hair into a sharp half up-do held together by a silver comb. A few quick swipes of mascara, and she was ready. She didn’t believe that at her age, one should wear too much makeup or look flashy in any sense; it was best to err on the side of classic.
She grabbed her small blue velvet clutch from her dresser and slipped on a shawl. After flipping off her lights and locking the door behind her, she headed at a fast clip down the paved golf-cart path connecting her home to the Milton’s sprawling estate.
The light wind had a chill to it. Leslie pulled her shawl around the front of her chest and checked her watch again. She’d be on time, but only if she didn’t stop.
Yet, as she rounded a sharp corner of the path, she saw something bright red glinting on the edge of the concrete.
Is that blood? she thought, alarmed before realizing the glint came from an object, not liquid.
She crouched down to pick it up, studying it with her knowledgeable eye. It was a stone the size of a pinky nail—a ruby, if she wasn’t mistaken.
This looks genuine¸ she mused, figuring she would turn it in to the Miltons after the recital. If it wasn’t theirs, it was probably a guest’s.
Leslie pocketed the stone and hurried on.
Click here to read the rest of: Murder: The Missing Necklace.
Other Books by
Liz Turner
Box Sets (Your Best Value)
A Mega Collection of Cozy Mysteries & More
A Collection of Favorite Cozy Mysteries & More
Dr. Hallie Malone Cozy Mysteries:
Murder-A Deadly Stew
Half-Baked Blackmail & Murder
The Sandwich Murder
The Bakery Truck Mystery
Murder at the Movies
Jolene Park – Attorney at Law, Cozy Mysteries:
A Deadly Con
Deadly Winnings
Left For Dead in Alaska
Cozy Mystery Romances:
Notes From the Mysterious “G”
Mountain Mayhem
Copyright © 2018 by Liz Turner.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
Publisher’s Note: 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 resemb
lance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.
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