Detective Kendra Allen sat in her office, sipping a coffee amid teetering piles of papers and books. She had a million things to do that day. But the chief problem she had to solve was finding physical evidence tying Ricky to Martin’s death and Abby’s poisoning. The last one was the real puzzle. How did the poison get there? The team had searched and searched and searched again. And they would keep searching.
Kendra did what she always did when facing a particularly knotty problem. She opened her bottom desk drawer and took out a mass of turquoise dyed alpaca yarn and needles. She was gradually forming this particular bit of wool into a cowl for herself. It might still be August outside, but she knew from experience that this was truly knitting weather. Knitting is slow work. She could work out the tangles in her cases and make herself something warm by the time the first chill of winter arrived. Pearl one, knit two. The poison had come from foxgloves. Unfortunately, the bottles found at Frank’s house had been wiped clean of all prints. Maybe some DNA evidence would come to light, but it would be a while before that analysis could be completed. Now in the second case, it didn’t necessarily have to be in liquid form. It could’ve been the leaves. Pearl one, again. Theoretically, someone could bring the leaves in their pocket. But everyone had emptied their pockets. Surely, they’d have noticed stray leaves. Kendra looked down. She’d forgotten the yarn overs. She’d have to go back and take it out.
But the poison was in tea, right? The killer didn’t necessarily have to poison Pauline at the library. All they had to do was tamper with her tea mixture. Then the next time she drank tea, it would be all over. But that meant there was probably poisoned tea sitting at Pauline’s house right that moment. And she was out on bail. Kendra stuffed her knitting unceremoniously back into the drawer and called Pauline’s number. She breathed a sigh of relief when Pauline answered.
“It’s Detective Allen. This is urgent. Do not drink any of the tea in your house. It may be tainted. I’m coming over right now.”
When Kendra had collected all the remaining jars of tea at Pauline’s house and was halfway back to Sorrelville and back in the zone of cell phone signals, her phone rang and was picked up by her car’s Bluetooth. She pressed the button to answer.
“Detective Allen, it’s Abby.” Her voice was shaky.
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m at The Ridge Road Hotel. Chloe and Millie are missing. They went upstairs for something, but they never came back down. Some of the other customers have been looking all over the hotel, and we can’t find them. We don’t know where Jack is either.”
Kendra pulled her car into the driveway and turned around to speed back in the direction of Winding Creek. Why did Millie have to get involved? “I’m on my way.”
* * *
Jack led them farther from the hotel. And farther from the chance that anyone would be able to see them, would be able to save them.
“What exactly is your plan here?” Asked Millie, more to distract herself from her imminent doom than for any real desire for conversation.
“My plan? I’m going to march you out into these woods. When I think we’ve gone far enough, I’m going to shoot you both and run away.”
So much for the distraction.
“You’re just gonna run off through the woods without food or water or anything?” asked Millie. “You can’t exactly go back to the hotel parking lot and get your car once people hear the shot.”
“I don’t have any choice.”
Millie and Chloe had to do something. They couldn’t let themselves be led to their deaths. Looking sideways, Millie caught Chloe’s eye and felt an unspoken agreement pass between them. But what to do? Think, Millie, think. She took a steadying breath and drew her focus from the gun barrel in her back to the world around her. Here they were in nature. Was there something in this environment she could use?
Chloe tripped slightly over a tree root but regained her balance. Could that work? It was an awful chance. Millie would have to hope that quite a lot of things went right, but it was a chance she had to take. If she was going to go down, she was going to go down swinging.
Millie faked a trip. She dropped to the ground, Jack stumbling against her. Chloe did exactly what Millie hoped she would do. She went for the gun. A moment of struggle followed, and Millie wasn’t exactly sure what was going on as she scrambled to get out from under them.
A gunshot rang out. Millie got to her feet. Jack and Chloe were both upright—meaning no one was hit. Chloe let out a groan as she ripped the gun from Jack’s hands and pointed it in his direction, her finger on the trigger.
Jack took a step toward her. “Can you really do it, Chloe?” he asked in a low voice. Slowly he took another step.
Nope. Millie was not going to have any of that nonsense. “Excuse me a second, Chloe,” she said.
Millie stepped forward, brought her right arm back and pushed her fist forward with as much power as she could muster into Jack’s temple.
Jack staggered back. Then Chloe stepped forward, a large tree branch in the hand not holding the gun. She brought it down on top of his head.
Still conscious, but dazed, Jack sank to the ground.
A shout rang out from behind them. “Police!”
Millie turned around. Detective Allen ran to them from the direction of the garden. “Millie! Chloe! Are you okay?” When she got closer, she glanced from Jack dazed on the ground to the branch and gun in Chloe‘s hands and Millie’s still-clenched fist. “Nice one, ladies.”
19
Chapter 19
Hours later, safe and comfortable at the bar of The Witch’s Brew, Millie examined the bruises blooming on her right hand. Yeah. That was going to hurt for a while.
She was joined by Flor, Peter, and Detective Allen, or Kendra as she’d asked to be called. Abby had desperately wanted to come but just as desperately needed a rest at home.
Even Chloe and Sadie were there, holding hands at the bar. Millie supposed a brush with death gives one a new appreciation for the opportunities presented in life.
The five of them had been spilling the whole story for Graham, talking until they felt like their tongues would fall off.
“So with Martin gone?” asked Graham, “and Frank and Pauline probably going to prison, what will The Wild Wanderers do about the president and board member vacancies?”
“Well they’ll have to have an election,” said Chloe, “but I think I know who the next president will be.” She flashed a smile at Sadie before turning back to Graham. “And Abby is a shoo-in for a board position if she wants it.”
Sadie raised her glass. “I can make one campaign promise right now. If elected, I’ll make sure board meetings are held on the weekends so people with regular jobs can attend.”
The chimes at the door tinkled as Sam and Ricky walked in. “I heard this was the place to find the folks who caught the real killer,” Sam said.
Ricky patted Millie’s shoulder. “Thanks, y’all. This has been a heck of a few days.” His face was weary. Millie thought he looked relieved but a few years older overnight. She couldn’t imagine the sense of betrayal he must feel.
“And I’d like to apologize,” said Sam. “I lied about being in debt. I was just so freaked out by the whole thing. I helped Grandpa take Frank’s ferns, but I was just discovering all the other shady dealings he had. I got defensive, but it was wrong and it might’ve even set you on the wrong path.”
“Don’t worry about it,” said Millie. “I’d probably have been pretty freaked out too.”
Graham readied two fresh glasses. “Are you fellas ready for a beer?”
“Oh, yes,” said Sam. “I think we could both use one.”
Sam and Ricky ordered their beers and retreated to the corner with the comfy chairs. Millie thought she saw a twinkle in their eyes. Yes. It was definitely there. It was much too soon for either of them, but maybe someday down the road…
“Millie, Peter, are you sure I can’t tempt you with a beer?” asked Gr
aham.
“Sorry. Got to work,” said Peter.
“And alcohol increases bleeding,” said Millie, “which would be bad for what I’m about to do.”
Kendra looked down at her glass. “Well, I’m all finished. Let’s go and watch you do this thing.”
Millie, Peter, and Kendra left, Sadie and Chloe staying behind to enjoy some quiet time. It was just a few steps to Cats ‘N Tats next door. “Wow!” Kendra exclaimed, looking through the glass at the cat sanctuary. “You can see a lot of cats from the window on the street, but this place is bigger— and fuller of cats—than I had thought.”
Cats sunned themselves in the fading afternoon light or slept lazily atop cat trees. The big Maine Coon cat hopped down from its perch, stretched, walked to the window, and rubbed against it in greeting.
Jody smiled from behind the counter. “You ready? I told you we’d celebrate with your first tattoo, Millie.”
Here goes. “Ready as I’ll ever be.” That day Millie had caught her first murderer and delivered her second punch to someone’s face, and now she would end it by getting her first tattoo. The transformation from good kid to… whatever it was she was turning into was complete.
Peter washed up. He went to his station and retrieved the stencil he had drawn. “What do you think?”
“Looks great,” said Millie. “Let’s apply it.” Millie rolled up her pant leg. Peter wiped down her ankle and applied the stencil. He pulled the paper away. Then he let Millie look over the design in the mirror.
“Detective—I mean Kendra, could you get Abby in a video call on my phone? I told her I’d let her see this,” said Peter.
“No problem.”
Peter washed up again and gloved up. Abby answered the call. “Hi, Detective. Are they doing it yet?”
“Just about to now. I’ll hold the phone where you can see.”
Millie sat in the client chair and Peter on the stool next to her, bending down toward her ankle. The tattoo gun in his hand buzzed. “Here we go, Millie.”
The feeling was a bit like being scratched by a cat, but over and over, and she couldn’t move or she’d mess up the artwork. And nobody wants a crooked tattoo. Millie thought it wasn’t so bad at first. Only kind of annoying. But as it went on and Peter carefully inked the intricate linework of the tattoo, she began to long for a distraction. “Let’s talk about something,” she said.
“About what?” asked Abby from the phone.
“About anything,” said Millie. “Somebody tell me a joke.”
“I got one,” said Peter. “Once there was a girl who punched a killer in the face, but she got a little antsy getting her tattoo.”
“Oh, ha ha.”
After the outline, there was a little relief, but then came the color, which took a lot longer. And then the shading. At long last, and just when Millie was thinking Peter was dragging it out on purpose, he leaned back with a satisfied “all done!”
Peter wiped away the mixture of blood and ink one last time. “Have a look in the mirror again. How do you like it?”
Millie hopped up and went to stand before the mirror on the wall. She turned her ankle this way and that, examining the new inked fiddlehead fern on the reflection of her ankle. She thought about her new tattoo, her new job, and new friends as she said, “It’s perfect.”
It would be. At least until the next person got murdered.
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Something fishy’s going on at the Law Offices of Fern and Berry. Cat rescuer Jody went to pick up a stray cat only to find the cat replaced with another cat and the entire lobby redecorated overnight. What’s going on and what became of the other cat? Time to call Jody’s buddy, the bookmobile driver/amateur sleuth Millie Monroe. Get it now!
Coming Soon
It’s the county’s annual wine and beer festival. Millie and her bookmobile are on hand representing the library system in a celebration of local brewing and wine-making history.
But when a body is found stabbed with a winery’s corkscrew at a local brewpub’s festival booth, the party’s over. Could the killing have something to do with the rivalry between the two companies? Or is it all down to the wholesaler’s shady past?
Tensions rise in the battle of wine versus beer. And Millie had better find the culprit before it’s bottoms-up on another human life.
Coming August 2020: Pre-order now.
About the Author
Connie B. Dowell writes mystery fiction and nonfiction for writers while her two toddlers climb all over her. When not writing, she podcasts, knits, plays violin badly, and binge watches Midsomer Murders. She lives in Virginia where she drinks far more coffee than is probably wise.
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