Death among the Roses: a Melanie Hart Mystery (Melanie Hart Cozy Mysteries Book 1)

BOOK: Death among the Roses: a Melanie Hart Mystery (Melanie Hart Cozy Mysteries Book 1)
6.29Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Death among the Roses

by Anna Drake
 
Copyright © 2014 by Anna Drake

 

This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogues are products of the author's imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

 

 

 

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN

SEVENTEEN

EIGHTEEN

NINETEEN

TWENTY

 

 

ONE

 

A
wedding can be a glorious event. Anytime or anyplace, nuptials will often put a smile on a woman’s face.

But not mine. I hate weddings. I’ve never seen one where the bride wasn’t a nervous wreck, the mother a walking zombie, and the groom little more than a second thought.

Was that why I was in my present funk? I was headed to a wedding, to my best friend’s wedding. And I was running late.

Now, almost at my destination, I wrestled my car around the corner at Main and Maple Streets like an Indy driver on steroids. Flooring the gas pedal, I flew past a startled Mabel Florent, who was taking out her trash. Next, I barreled onto Torrance Street, and halfway down the block, I stomped on my brakes, tires screeching, to turn into the parking lot of the Cloverton Methodist Church.

Easing my Fiesta into a vacant space, I sank back in the seat and took in my surroundings. The church sat in gray splendor to my left. A rose bed lined up before the nose of my car. The parking lot was stuffed nearly to overflowing. I stepped outside, pulled in air, and admired the day. It was perfect weather for a wedding. Bright sunshine. Blue sky. Greening grass and….

And that’s when the impossible happened. My gaze fell to an object among the roses.

I blinked, momentarily wondering what the groom was doing stretched out in a rose bed? But a closer look brought the reality home. Obviously, Cordelia’s intended groom, Gary Pepper, was dead. Not only dead, but murdered. I could tell by the grimace on his face.

My breathing quickened. My heart banged inside my chest. I wanted to scream but I couldn’t.

Behind me, a car pulled into the parking lot. Its door banged shut. Footsteps drew near.

What’s happened,” a man asked. “Are you ill?”

Still unable to speak, I raised my hand and pointed a trembling finger at the body.

“Oh,” he said, the one word coming out in a great whoosh. He wrapped his strong arms around me. He gripped me tightly to his chest. My fingers clutched at his lapels. And I silently vowed never to let go of them.

“Here,” he said, releasing me a few seconds later. “Come. Sit down.” He led me to his car, opened the door, and steadied me. I sank down onto the seat. I gazed up at him, trying to figure out just who my helpmate was. Mid-twenties, tall, slender, I’d never seen the man before.

“Do you have a cell phone with you?” he asked.

I nodded. Licked my lips. “It’s inside my purse.”

“Would you retrieve it for me, please?”

I fished the phone free.

He gently removed it from my outstretched hand. “You stay here. Take deep breaths. I’m calling the police.”

The fellow’s fingers punched in numbers on the keypad. He drew even closer to the fallen man. Once connected with the county dispatcher, he gave him our location and described what we had found.

“No, there’s no reason to rush,” he said a short time later. “I can’t find a pulse.”

At hearing the finality of those words, I shivered. My mind, which had been numb until then, launched into overdrive.

Gary Pepper, a man I’d known since childhood had been murdered. I shook my head. How could this have happened? And on this of all possible days. Then, my thoughts turned to Cordelia, waiting inside the church for a groom who would never come.

 

***

 

Within a few minutes of our call, the first cop arrived. Short and barrel chested, Lonny Day approached us with a frown on his broad brow. Day and I had attended high school together. “You’re going to know the victim,” I warned him. He nodded, grimly.

Still, when his gaze took in the corpse, his mouth collapsed into an even thinner line. And at returning to us, his face was a little more washed out than it had been when he arrived.

“Chief Gossford is going to want to interview you when he gets here,” Day told me.

“That’s fine.”

I’m Melanie Hart, by the way. When not practically stumbling over dead bodies, I’m a reporter for the Cloverton Gazette. Few people have ever heard of me or of our newspaper.

We cover a two-county area along the western edge of Illinois  — where the state’s border protrudes into the Iowa and Missouri state line like a pregnant belly. Our population on a good day might total forty thousand people, but I wouldn’t put money on that.

My parking-lot savior turned out to be named Josh Devon. He told Day he’d traveled down from a Chicago suburb to attend the wedding. He was dark of hair and eye and had a deeply dimpled chin. Although he appeared to be about my age, he had a mature and confident air about him that I’d probably always lack.

I’m sure if I’d been paying closer attention, I’d have thought the man handsome. But those kind of details didn’t interest me much then.

After satisfying the cop’s questions, Josh and I were ushered toward the church. The building was a well maintained old thing constructed from gray, chiseled stone. The Gothic windows were framed with freshly painted white trim. A square bell tower rose high and proud beside the building’s wide, front door.

“Before you get the wrong idea” Josh said, as we climbed the stone steps, “I don’t usually scoop strangers into my arms. Or at the very least, I insist on being introduced first.”

I chuckled. “I’m glad to hear it, because I don’t normally tolerate such behavior, either.”

“We’re on the same page, then?”

I shrugged. “It works for me.”

Of course, I didn’t tell him how much I appreciated his kindness. At the sight of the corpse, I’d definitely needed bracing up. I’d never come across a dead body before, and as far as I was concerned, I’d be happiest if I never ran into oneone again.

Entering the sanctuary, Day gestured toward a pew where Josh and I obligingly sat. The sight I beheld nearly overwhelmed me. Large floral bouquets lined the center aisle. Even larger groupings of flowers filled the space immediately around the altar. The spring blooms in bright shades of yellow and pink made everything looked grandly festive and sadly at odds with the facts now to be faced.

But apparently the bridal party had gotten whiff of the trouble headed their way. They stood in a ragged clump down front. Their faces drawn. Their troubled gaze following Day’s approach. Cordelia looked magnificent in a white, high-necked gown. But I found the concern playing across her strong features heartrending.

Her father stood beside her. Day whispered a few short words to them both. Cordelia instantly collapsed into her father’s arms. I longed to comfort my friend, and I started to spring up to go to her. But Josh restrained me. “There’s already a crowd down there. Besides, it looks as though they’re going to get her out of here.”

Casting a second glance down front, I saw Dr. Kirkwood approach and bark a few curt orders to the group. Soon, Cordelia was rushed down the aisle and out the door. All I could do was sit and watch them speed out of sight. I had to wait here for questioning.

At the bridal party’s departure,  Officer Day looked at us with a deep wrinkle of displeasure carving into his forehead. “Absolutely no one else is to leave the church,” he barked. “You’re all witnesses to a murder. We need to question you. Learn what, if anything, you saw.” I shuddered.  Obviously, Day would have preferred it if even poor Cordelia had remained imprisoned with us.

Possibly sensing my distress, Josh did his best to keep my mind occupied with chit-chat. We spoke of weather, jobs, our colleges, and what our years there meant to us.

Sometime later, my neighbor, Bill Torman, interrupted our little confab to tell us coffee was on order in the church basement. Somewhere in his late fifties, I’d always found him a considerate man. And today was no exception.

“Gossford’s arrived,” he said, “but it will be a while before he starts taking statements. They’re going over the grounds, looking for evidence, I guess. A crime scene crew is here. The coroner, too.”

He gazed at me with a worried frown. “Are you going to be okay, Melanie?”

“Of course. I come from sturdy stock.”

“Good.” Relief lighted his blue eyes. “I can get on with my job, then? I need to share the news about the coffee.” He patted my hand and gave me an affectionate smile.

After he left us, I turned to my new best friend. “Shall we grab some coffee?” Josh nodded, and I escorted him to the stairwell, where we led a procession of wedding guests to the basement. Once there, we each filled a cup with the steaming brew. The coffee spilled out dark and fragrant from the little black spigot near the bottom of the large, old-fashioned aluminum coffeemaker. I smiled. We had one just like it at work. It was ancient. As was this one. I could hardly believe either of them still worked.

With cups filled now, Josh and I headed to a quiet corner. The room we walked through was a plain, open space with a couple of small additions along the far western side. Walls were a neutral beige. Banquet tables stood in three long rows. Folding chairs spaced along the tables provided hard, uncomfortable seating. It was a Spartan, utilitarian kind of place that relied on the neighborliness of the congregation for its warmth.  But there were few of those vibes present here on this day. People milled about, their faces grim.

Josh seated himself at the end of one of the line of tables and asked, “Did you know Gary well?”

I sat in the chair next to his. “You could say that. We grew up together. From childhood on he, Cordelia, and I were a tight-knit group.”

Josh sipped his coffee and swallowed. “Have you any idea why someone would have wanted him dead?”

I shook my head. “I can’t imagine anyone wishing Gary ill. He was a quiet man who, as far as I knew, always went out of his way to avoid trouble.”

“Well, someone obviously thought  they needed to kill him. Once police find the motive, they’ll be half-way home to nabbing the killer.” He nodded as though reassuring himself as to the certainty of his statement.

I drew back and studied the man’s friendly face. “Are you a cop?”

He laughed. “No, I’m an accountant.”

And also a pleasant companion, I thought. “Are you here as a guest of the bride or of the groom?” Neither of my friends had ever mentioned Josh’s name before that I could remember.

The man set his cup down and frowned. “Gary and I are… that is I guess I should say... we were cousins.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry for your loss.”

Josh ducked his chin and nodded. “Thank you.”

“I had no idea Gary had a cousin.”

Josh wrapped both hands around his coffee cup. “I’m not surprised you’ve never heard of me. Our families had fallen out before I was born. In fact, I was amazed when I received an invitation to the wedding. Gary even wrote me a separate note, encouraging me to come.”

“How kind of him.”

Josh bit his lip and nodded. “It was. He said he thought it was time for our families to mend fences.”

No chance of healing now, I thought. At least, not for Gary to see.

At that moment, Ginger Black advanced on us. She was one of Cordelia’s cousins. She’d been drafted into service as Maid of Honor when Cordelia had decided to restrict her bridesmaids to family members. With copper hair, large hazel eyes, and delicate, even features, Ginger was what could be called a natural beauty. And the bridesmaid dress looked perfect on her. An achievement rarely accomplished.

“Here,” she said, shoving a platter of food toward us and rolling her eyes. “I’m carting around the canapés.” She shrugged. “Somebody called the caterers and had some of the food for the reception brought over. It’s a good idea, I guess. It keeps a little of the wedding goodies from going to waste. Plus this gives me something to do to pass the time. Otherwise I’d go bonkers.”

I stared at the platter. Shrimp and sliced ham and smoked salmon along with several types of cheeses had been lovingly arranged there. While everything looked tempting and smelled delicious, yet I couldn’t force myself to take a single bite. The memory of Gary’s dead body was too much with me.  Josh, too, passed up the offerings.

“So who’s your friend?” Ginger asked, her eyes twinkling as she took my companion’s measure.

BOOK: Death among the Roses: a Melanie Hart Mystery (Melanie Hart Cozy Mysteries Book 1)
6.29Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Other books

Lilian's Story by Kate Grenville
Las Vegas Honeymoon by Francis Drake
Homeless by Laurie Halse Anderson
Mrs, Presumed Dead by Simon Brett
The New York Trilogy by Paul Auster
The Magic of Christmas by Trisha Ashley
C is for Corpse by Sue Grafton