Dead 'N Breakfast

by Paulette Brewster

  Dead 'n Breakfast

  Paulette Brewster

  Copyright © 2020 Paulette Brewster

  All rights reserved

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  Cover design by: Lyndsey Lewellen

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Maple Ridge Cozy Mysteries

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Maple Ridge Cozy Mysteries

  Dead 'n Breakfast, Book #1

  A Deadly Turn, Book #2 - July/August 2020

  Inked to Death, Book #3 - 2021

  Sweet Contemporary Romances

  Seasons of Love

  Christmas Snow, Book #1 - 2019

  Bridesmaid Blues, Book #2 - July 2020

  www.PauletteBrewster.com

  Prologue

  Elizabeth Marsh was forced by unexpected circumstances to leave her high paying job at a large investment firm in New York City. She’d worked hard and put in long hours without complaint. She had loved her job. In her fifteen years with the firm she’d risen quickly up through the ranks and never felt she’d had to compromise her work ethic or her ideals. Then one day she discovered a discrepancy in the data sheets while researching the accounts of a client. Something was either very wrong or a terrible, glaring error. After days of digging deeper and going into areas not available to lesser employees, she realized there was no denying the numbers or the purpose of those numbers. Nothing added up right. The further she researched the more certain she was that her boss had been embezzling huge sums of money from their clients. How had she missed it? And how did it suddenly stand out so clearly now? White-faced and sick to her stomach, she turned out the lights in her office and went home to her apartment. What should she do? If she turned this information over to the SEC she was likely to lose all opportunity to ever find work in New York or anywhere else. Her resume would be worthless. But if she did nothing, and it was discovered that she’d done nothing, then her resume would become even more worthless. And if she became the person who took down one of the largest firms in the city? Well, her mind couldn’t even begin to comprehend what would happen. But that was exactly what she had to do because there simply was no other choice. Gripping the leather case that held her laptop and all the evidence she’d gathered, evidence that could not be denied, she walked through the doorway of the simple, unpretentious apartment she’d called home for the past fifteen years. Her New England roots of frugality had never left her. They were part of who she was and always would be. When this mess was all over, she would return to those roots. She would trade in her business suits and leather pumps for mud-mucking boots, wool sweaters, and stocking caps. Gladly.

  Chapter One

  Mid July

  Liz gripped the steering wheel as she drove the rental car across the state line into Vermont without even glancing in the rearview mirror. There was no point in looking back or judging herself on how she’d wasted so many years. Fifteen to be exact. Wasted. She forced herself to relax her white knuckled grip and allow the tension in her shoulders to loosen up. The decision to drive from New York City to her parent’s home was intentional for the simple reason that she needed time to think, to let go, and the long drive would give her that. She also needed to reset her attitude while moving forward because going forward was all she could do. Leave it all behind, she told herself.

  She followed the route heading north toward Rutland then turned onto the scenic mountain road that would take her to Stowe and up through the Notch. The curves in the familiar drive and the New England scenery calmed her. She put down the windows and opened the sunroof to hear the creek waters along the roadside as they tumbled over large and small rocks in the shallow bed. Finally, her hands relaxed on the steering wheel and her shoulders leaned easily into the soft, fine leather of the seat while she inhaled deeply of the wooded scent that surrounded her. Her soul felt permeated with all of it, crowding out the fear and frustration that had dogged her for the past several months. Liz Marsh was home. It really was over and now she had to shake the dust of it from her feet.

  Whistleblower… the word reverberated in her head but not nearly as loud as it had. She didn’t grind her teeth now when it stole into her thoughts as she’d done in the beginning. The whole thing was in the rearview mirror, literally, and that was where it could stay.

  After driving miles through the mountain backroads, she arrived at Stowe’s busy thoroughfare where she slowed down even more. The opportunity to pull into a perfect parking spot in front of an ice cream shop presented itself and she couldn’t resist. The tourist traffic was thick which was typical for this time of year. Bright summer sunshine and laughter was all around her. A family sat on a nearby bench that leaned against the ice cream shop and they all appeared to be enjoying themselves. They turned to smile at her as she walked by and she smiled back, her first genuine smile in months.

  After paying for her ice cream, she found an unoccupied table outside with a couple of lawn chairs. She decided to sit and take in the familiar sights and sounds, realizing she'd stayed away far too long. Sure, she’d made it back home for a rushed holiday with her family a few times a year, and it was true she’d loved those trips that felt as though she’d stepped back into the past where things were secure, happy and never changed. And now, she felt a sense of gratitude that things hadn’t changed. She felt fortunate to be able to go back home where she could put her life in order again.

  When the last lick of ice cream was gone, she decided a quick call to her parents was in order just to let them know she was only an hour or so away, if she didn’t dawdle too much. But truthfully, she did feel like dawdling and soaking up every bit of it, so she’d better make that two hours. Sitting in her car she placed the call and waited.

  “Oh, hello, dear!” said her mom, sounding excited and a little out of breath. “I was afraid you’d hang up before I could answer the phone. It’s been so busy around here lately.” In the background, Liz could hear her father’s voice trying to calm her mother down, but she was unable to understand exactly what he was saying. She could just visualize her mom waving at her dad to be still while she talked. “Well, you know how it is around here. Always busy,” she went on. “What time do plan on being here?”

  “I think maybe at six o’clock. I’m in Stowe and the weather’s so beautiful that I think I’ll take my time.”

  “Six o’clock? Goodness, well, yes, that will be just fine, dear. Hang on a minute, your father is trying to tell me something….”

  Liz waited, puzzled, while they conversed. Something was certainly going on for her mother to be in such a dither which was totally unlike her.

  “He said he will get the grill ready and we’ll celebrate when you get here. It will be so good to have you home, dear.” Her voice was calmer now. “We’ve missed you.”

  “I’ve missed you and dad more than you know.” She closed her eyes and enjoyed the warmth of the sun on her face. “Is there something you’d like me to stop by the
store and pick up?” The question was a silly one, but it felt good to ask.

  “No, no, dear, we’ve got everything we need. It seems like a long time since you’ve been here. We just want you to enjoy yourself.”

  “I already am.” She smiled again because it was true. “So, I’ll see you before long then.”

  “Wonderful. Drive safely, dear. Take as much time as you want.”

  When they said their goodbyes, she settled back into the soft upholstery with a feeling of utter peace.

  The next few hours passed quickly. Each mile brought her closer to a new beginning, whatever that might be. She had no plans and wouldn’t make any for a few weeks, she’d promised herself that much at least. Her future hung like a blank sheet of paper, or more appropriately, a blank computer screen but she quickly brushed that thought from her mind. She wanted nothing to do with computers or business sheets ever again. The only thing she would allow herself to consider was the simple life and she knew home was where she’d find it.

  After taking the long route, she made a last minute detour through their small town of Maple Ridge instead of heading directly home. The school, of course, was the same as was much of the town itself. Although she did spot an improved modern sign that hung above the old hardware store. And she had to slow down to get a better look at the building that sported a new façade to match the new sign which proclaimed, “Wholesome Java Café – Soups – Salads - Homemade Bread.” She scanned the large front window for a “now hiring” sign since it looked like a place where she would enjoy working. Perhaps it might be a good place to start over. A few doors away was the old library, which was good planning on the part of the café, she thought. A quick drive through the side streets showed little else had changed and to her current way of thinking that was a good thing. On the drive out of town stood the old Maple Sugar Restaurant, unchanged except for the obvious fresh brown paint on its boarded exterior. Now that she felt totally convinced that life had basically remained the same in her absence, she headed up the hillside to her home, Maple Ridge Farm. Crossing the old covered bridge, she made a sudden decision to pull over. She wanted to see the hand carving she’d made years ago when she was a teenager and life had been simple and full of fun. There it was: “Liz” beside a square-edged heart. A sense of warmth came over her as it had every time she returned home for a visit. This time she was especially needing that security, in a place where she could heal from the wounds that didn’t show outwardly but hurt nevertheless. She knew in her heart she would never go back. There simply was no point in it.

  She smiled and hurried to the car. In a few minutes, she passed the old Barnes place with its menagerie of small farm animals. Polly, the energetic spinster lady who lived there and took care of them as though they were her children, was one of Sarah Marsh’s best friends. The pink and purple clapboard house fit the older woman’s personality, and even though she was a bit quirky, she kept a large garden that put the entire neighborhood to shame.

  As Liz approached the large two-storied home where she’d grown up, a first glance told her that something was very different besides the obvious sprucing up that her father was so good at doing. Shrubs were trimmed, flowering potted plants bedecked the front stoop and the house had been recently painted a nice deep red with mustard yellow trim. But what caught her eye immediately was the large motorhome parked in front of the barn. She wondered who would bring a motorhome that size down their small country road. They must have come in from the opposite direction than she had because it never would have made it through the covered bridge. She could hardly take her eyes off the motorhome as she pulled up to the building that served as a garage near the side entrance to the house. Undoubtedly, some friends of her parents had come for a surprise visit and perhaps that accounted for her mother’s fidgety phone conversation. Hearing voices from behind the house, she went around to the patio.

  “Oh hello, dear!” called her mom. “Come and sit with us.” Meeting her halfway, they exchanged a warm hug. “I hope you had a nice drive. Your father is just getting ready to put the steaks on the grill.”

  Liz greeted her father with a hug too. “It’s so good to be here,” she said before sinking onto the cushioned chaise. “Where’s your company?” she asked, looking around the patio and toward the large screened porch.

  “Company?” her mom repeated, looking puzzled. “Oh! I know why you’re wondering!” And she smiled broadly. “The motorhome.”

  Liz nodded, feeling as though she’d been left out of the loop. “Are you storing it for someone?”

  “Oh no, dear," she replied then looked at Liz’s dad as if wanting backup or something that Liz wasn’t understanding. “It’s ours. Isn’t it lovely?”

  Sarah Marsh was one of the most composed women that Liz knew. She could say the most surprising things and appear as if she’d just asked you to pass the butter, please. Liz had always admired her mother for her ability to deal with any situation and weather any storm without an ounce of drama in her demeanor. Liz wished she had that same ability.

  “You bought it?” Her shock was quickly displayed by the high squeak in her voice. And the delight on her mother’s face didn’t change a bit.

  “We did.” She sat with her hands folded in her lap then glanced at her husband. “Didn’t we, Daniel.” It wasn’t a question, but a confirmation of fact.

  Liz watched as they smiled at each other and waited for some sort of explanation.

  Her father spoke first. “We’ve been talking about this for a long time.”

  “You have?” Liz had never heard a word about it, until now, and she squelched the urge to say it out loud. Her decision to live almost exclusively in New York had produced more drawbacks than she’d realized.

  “Well, you know,” her dad began as he sat in a chair across from them. “Traveling has always been on our minds, but we never said anything because there was always so much work here on the farm that had to be done. Although, you know, we have downsized considerably over the last several years.”

  She’d been aware of that and was glad for it, and truthfully, she thought traveling was a great idea. It was just such a surprise they’d take a step so big and so suddenly.

  “And when I retired last month…” he began.

  “You did? I hadn't heard.” It wasn't bad news, but it was jarring.

  “You’ve been through a lot, dear,” said her mother, frowning with concern. “We thought it would be better if we waited till you came home and could talk about… everything. It just wasn’t the right time with all that you’ve been through.”

  Liz nodded. It was true. She wouldn’t have been able to take it all in very well and be supportive, which she wasn’t even doing at the moment. “I’m sorry, Mom. The motorhome is lovely and I’m happy for both of you.” She smiled weakly at them in apology. “It’s just such a surprise. Maybe it shouldn’t be, but I’ve been away so long and out of touch I guess. I really am happy for you.”

  Her mother rose from her seat and said, “Let’s have some lemonade while your father starts grilling. We can talk about the details a bit later.” She gave a tilt of her head as if to say, okay?

  “Of course. I’ll help with whatever you need. Should we bring it out here?” This was a happy occasion for all of them and the least she could do was celebrate along with them, and she desperately wanted something to celebrate. She followed her mom into the house through the large enclosed back porch and into the wide living room. The stone fireplace filled the end wall with windows on each side. The maple wood-planked floor gave a warm golden glow to the room. Very little had changed over the years in their one hundred fifty year old house. Her mother’s love of antiques was on obvious display around the fireplace including some of the larger pieces of furniture. Liz stood still, admiring the hominess of the room when a large black-as-midnight cat came out of nowhere and rubbed against her legs.

  “Well, hello, Bess.” Liz picked up the cat, nuzzling her soft thick fur. “She
sure has grown, hasn’t she?”

  Sarah laughed, “She really has. I think she was barely a kitten last time you were here. Your dad says it’s the cow’s milk. She manages to sneak out the door whenever he goes out to do the milking.”

  Liz put the cat down as they entered the kitchen which was every bit as large as the living room. The old wooden table with its sturdy chairs took center stage in the room while the sink and tall cabinets flanked the exterior wall. The up to date appliances, along with more cabinets, lined the opposite side. The remaining walls were wainscoted and painted a buttery yellow that added to the cheeriness. This was the favorite room of the house for nearly everybody who came to visit, but it wasn’t just the room itself that drew their attention. At far end on the exterior wall was a large old wood cookstove with shining chrome fixtures. The black stove pipe rose from the back and through the warming oven before exiting into the masonry chimney. Liz loved this room. She remembered when her grandparents had lived in the house when she was small and the aromas that came from that stove were forever etched in her memory.