Summer Reading is Killing Me (Phee Jefferson Book 2), page 1
Summer Reading
Is Killing Me
AMY E. LILLY
The characters in this book are fictitious or are referred to in a fictional context. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher constitutes unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property If you would like to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the publisher.
Library of Congress Control Number: 2015906379
1st Edition
©2015 Amy Lilly
Bella Lilly Press
Spanishburg, WV
Cover Art by Ashley Townsend.
ISBN-13: 978-0-692-43426-0
DEDICATION
For Dennis.
CHAPTER ONE
I love summer and how the air ripples as waves of heat rise from the asphalt. The warm summer breezes sway the large trees surrounding the lake. I love the buzz of the bees as they zip from flower to flower. One of the best things about summer is cruising down the road in my 1968 VW bus, Velma with the windows down, the wind tangling my strawberry curls and my favorite music playing on the radio. My summer love died when I discovered a dead body in Longfellow Park. Too bad I left my Super Librarian costume hanging in the closet that day.
Just after dawn, I was unloading tables for the Miller’s Cove Founder’s Day Celebration. The town library holds an annual book sale during the festivities to raise money for the children’s party at the end of summer reading. I planned to meet Wade, my library clerk and general dogsbody, at eight to unpack the books. Unable to sleep, I decided to set up tables and hang our banner by myself before picking up Wade. Clint was at the state police headquarters in Burlington for the next few days for training, and I was keeping his Jack Russell Terrier, Watson. I was busy hauling things to our designated spot when I heard frantic barking. I spotted Watson growling at something in the grass under the large oak tree.
“Watson! Come here, boy!” I whistled. He looked up but kept barking. With a sigh, I jogged over to shush him before he woke up the whole neighborhood. As I came nearer, I stopped. A young woman was asleep and oblivious to the little dog nipping at her feet. I bent to wake her and saw a splash of rust red across her shirt and a silver-handled paintbrush buried in her chest. Scattered on the ground next to her was a canvas, an easel and some tubes of paint with bright colors oozing out the open ends.
“Oh crud!” I said aloud. Watson lunged forward with a snarl and tugged at the bottom of the woman’s jeans. “No, Watson! Come here!” I picked him up and carried his wriggling body to Velma. I pulled my cell phone out of my bag and called the sheriff.
“Miller’s Cove Sheriff’s Department. What’s your emergency?” A nasal voice answered. It was Tina, the gum-smacking, fingernail-polishing receptionist who aspired to be a cop one day as long as the uniform didn’t make her thighs appear fat.
“Tina, it’s Ophelia Jefferson. I’m over at Longfellow Park and I found a girl dead. Someone murdered her.”
“What? A dead body? Murdered? Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure!” I snapped. “Can you send a deputy right away?” I shouldn’t be surprised Tina doubted me. There hadn’t been a murder in Miller’s Cove in over one hundred years. It all changed when my friend Grant’s mom, Shari Davis, lost her grip on reality and murdered three people last year. If Clint hadn’t charged in and rescued me, I would have been next. A scar above my left eyebrow served as a reminder of my ordeal. It gave me a slightly impish quality with a hint of danger. A James Bond meets Jane Austen flair.
“Mark’s on duty this morning. I guarantee he’s over at Nellie Jo’s having a cup of coffee and a doughnut. I’ll call and send him right over,” Tina said.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I said and disconnected. I heaved a sigh and loaded the tables back into Velma. My gut feeling was the Founder’s Day Celebration would be canceled.
CHAPTER TWO
Deputy Mark Thompson pulled up in his cruiser ten minutes later. I’d known him my whole life. He retired from our small sheriff’s department a few years ago but discovered retirement bored him silly. His wife, Sally, didn’t want him underfoot driving her crazy, so he went back to work part-time which made everyone happy. A sleepy town most the year, the crime spiked when people rented cabins by the lake for the summer. Most calls involved overturned and damaged trash cans from the local wildlife with an occasional domestic dispute thrown into the mix.
“Morning, Phee. Guess you found yourself a body. Tina says you think it’s a crime scene.” Mark took a sip from the Nellie Jo’s Joe-to-Go cup in his hand. I would kill for a cup of coffee right now. Some people ate comfort food. I drank comfort caffeine.
“She’s underneath that large oak tree.” I pointed. “Mark, somebody stabbed her in the chest with a paintbrush. It’s awful.” I shuddered in spite of the morning’s warmth. I led Mark over to the body.
“Did you touch anything?” Mark asked. He squatted next to the girl. His eyes combed the ground looking for evidence.
“No, I didn’t.” I shook my head. “Watson found her and tugged on her pants leg. I got close enough to grab him, but I was careful.”
“You recognize her?” Mark stood up and walked around the body, his brown eyes cataloging the canvas and paint on the ground.
I examined her face. If it weren’t for the ghastly gray pallor of death, she would have been beautiful. It was a face someone would remember. “No, I’ve never seen her. There’s a women’s art retreat at the lake this year. She might be one of the artists.”
“I need to cordon off the area and call Sheriff Dawes. He won’t be happy. I wouldn’t want to be in his boots when he tells Mayor James to cancel today’s event,” Mark said. “Do me a favor, Phee. Stay by the body while I go back to the cruiser to get crime scene tape and my kit. This area should be secured before folks show up for Founder’s Day and trample any evidence.”
“I’ll guard it with my life,” I promised. Mark loped across the grass to his vehicle. Who stabbed somebody with a paintbrush? An angry art critic? I inspected the body and noticed one finger covered with blue paint. I walked around and looked closer at the canvas lying on the damp grass. The painting was an unfinished landscape with a large slash of blue the same shade as the paint on her finger. I moved closer. Was that a letter? I couldn’t tell because of the smearing of the paint, but it resembled a cross. Was this a message from the victim? I pulled my phone out of my pants and snapped a few photos of the painting before Mark returned.
CHAPTER THREE
Sheriff Dawes arrived and took charge of the situation. The mayor pulled up a few minutes later. Mayor James declared the celebration cancelled until further notice. I left after Mark took my statement and headed to my parent’s to drop Watson off for his play date with their dog, Hamlet. I told them about finding the body and reassured them repeatedly that I would be careful. I promised to see them the next morning for breakfast and to retrieve Watson.
Word spread like wildfire through town that the mayor canceled the Founder’s Day Celebration due to the discovery of a dead body in the park. As I drove back into town and passed the park, I slowed to a halt due to the first traffic jam ever seen in Miller’s Cove. People gawked as EMTs removed the body to transport it by ambulance to the coroner’s office in Burlington. By the time I made it to Nellie Jo’s for a cup of coffee, the place buzzed with speculation on the victim’s identity and who murdered her.
“I overheard it was some la dee da gal from the cabins on the lake,” Nellie Jo gossiped as I ordered my coffee and scone. Nellie’s deep Southern drawl hadn’t faded despite all her years living in Miller’s Cove. “Why, I bet you anything it was some kind of love triangle. Rich folks always cheat on each other. They cheat on their taxes, too.”
“I didn’t recognize her as anyone from around here,” I confided. I leaned across the counter and lowered my voice, “She was young and pretty with long, blonde hair.”
“You saw her?” Nellie’s eyes widened. She handed me my coffee and blueberry scone.
“I was setting up tables for our book sale when I found her,” I told Nellie in a conspiratorial whisper. “She was under the giant oak tree with all the initials carved in it.”
“Golly day! I’m just glad you didn’t run into the killer down there! You’ve been through enough after last year with that Davis woman. Speaking of which…” Nellie pointed her chin. I turned and saw Grant Davis walk in the door. I made a point of avoiding him since his mom tried to kill me. He had stopped by the hospital after the attack, but my family refused to let him in to see me. Since then, we stayed away from each other. I couldn’t dodge him here in the small café though.
“I can tell him he’s not welcome,” Nellie offered. She stepped out from behind the counter to intercept Grant.
I felt torn between letting Nellie protect me and confronting the situation with Grant. “No, it’s okay. I can handle it.” I sighed and carried my cup and plate over to a small table by the window. Grant had lost both his parents - one to death and one to insanity. He had his own demons to contend with, and I felt a momentary twinge of sympathy for him.
“Phee, can I talk to you?” Grant s tood in front of me. His handsome face was gaunt and his clothes hung on his already slim frame. His mother’s crimes and subsequent committal to a mental institution had taken its toll on him. It wasn’t his fault his mother killed three people, but the sight of him brought the horror of the day with Shari rushing back. I felt sick to my stomach and shoved the scone across the table.
“Ummm… I guess.” I refused to meet his eyes. I stared at my cup as I struggled to control my emotions. My hands shook as I lifted my coffee to take a sip. The coffee shop had buzzed with gossip when I arrived, but now it was strangely quiet. Nellie Jo wiped the clean table next to me and tried to appear uninterested.
“Phee, I’m sorry. I miss your friendship. Please tell me how to fix things between us,” Grant pleaded. He reached out to touch my shoulder, but I flinched. He dropped his hand and sighed.
“Grant, we’re friends, but right now I can’t separate you from your mom. Why can’t you comprehend that? I can’t see you without reliving that horrible day. I almost died!” I stared blindly ahead blinking away tears.
“I understand. I wish I could turn back the clock. I spotted you in here and had the crazy idea to ask you to watch the early movie tonight at the theater. We can sit next to each other, share Jujubes and slushies, and try to remember what it feels like to be best friends again,” Grant said. “We don’t have to talk and you can’t see my face in the dark. It was stupid. I’m sorry I bothered you.” He turned to leave.
I sorted through my emotions. Grant was the same guy he’d always been. He was still the guy who picked me up in his old Dodge Dart and wasted our teenage afternoons cruising with the windows down and the music blaring. “Okay. I’ll go.”
Grant stopped and turned around to make sure he hadn’t misunderstood. “Pick you up at six? Jujubes and slushies are on me.” A hint of the old Grant emerged.
“Sounds good. See you then,” I said. Grant gave me a smile and left.
As soon as the door closed behind him, Nellie rushed up to my table and laid a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “Are you okay, Phee? You look mighty piqued. You should’ve let me kick him out of here.”
“I’m fine, Nellie. It’s just hard seeing him. Now we’ve got another murder in Miller’s Cove, and once again, I’m in the thick of it. Juliet says bad luck comes in threes, so I’ve certainly met my quota,” I said. I lifted my cup to my lips and took a sip. “If it weren’t for your good coffee and scones, I’d be a nervous wreck.” I patted Nellie’s hand to reassure her that I was okay.
“You mark my words. This latest murder was about love and money. When a pretty, rich girl gets murdered, a man is probably involved and money is at the heart of it,” Nellie predicted.
CHAPTER FOUR
I bought two coffees to go and headed to the library. I had called Wade when I left the park to tell him about the canceled celebration. He wanted to hear about the crime, but some things should be shared in person. I walked in and saw Juliet sitting on the circulation desk.
“Have you lost your ever lovin’ mind?” I exclaimed. Juliet jumped down and gave me a guilty look. “Wade has clearly lost his mind letting you sit your derriere on the desk. Good golly, Juls, were you raised in a barn?”
“As a matter of fact...” Juliet gave me a cheeky grin. “Sorry, Phee. Nobody was in here. Everybody’s milling around by the park to see what the police learned about the murder.”
“Either there or at Nellie Jo’s grabbing a cup of coffee with a side of gossip,” Wade said as I handed him the cup I bought for him.
“I didn’t realize you were here or I would have brought you one, Juliet,” I apologized.
“That’s okay. I’m here to find out the real deal about what happened in the park. That and to check out the hot guy behind the desk pushing subversive books on the innocent townsfolk of Miller’s Cove. He tried to make me read The Scarlet Letter. The nerve! So what’s the skinny, Minnie, with the murder?” Juliet leaned forward and fixed me with her best detective interrogation glare. After our pitiful attempt at crime detection last year almost got me killed, Juliet immersed herself in the world of crime – fact and fiction. She read as many mystery novels as she could and watched cheesy, 1970s cop shows during her free time. I had created a monster. A yoga-loving, granola-eating, Nancy Drew wannabe monster.
“What makes you think I know anything?” I grabbed the Miller’s Cove Courier and pretended to read the headlines. “I see they are planning to build a new subdivision down by the lake. It’s called Shady Retreat.”
“Aargh! Spill it!” Juliet screeched as she snatched the paper out of my hands.
“I’m guessing it was one of the summer renters here for the artist’s retreat. She was young, blonde and pretty,” I lowered my voice and glanced around to make sure the library was empty, “Don’t breathe a word, but somebody stabbed her in the chest with a paintbrush.”
“Jiminy Christmas! That’s a horrible way to kill someone!” Juliet exclaimed. She clapped her hand over her mouth when she realized how loud she was.
“Shush! No one is supposed to know that little detail,” I admonished her. I briefly considered showing them the pictures I took on my phone, but decided to hold off for now.
“The cops kept a piece of evidence back from the press so they can identify the perp. Smart.” Juliet narrowed her eyes. She tried for wise cop but came across more like a crazed Pomeranian.
“You’ve been watching way too many police shows from the seventies,” Wade chuckled. “I can’t imagine Clint saying perp when he discusses a case with Sheriff Dawes, but I could be wrong. For all I know, they might sit around with their feet on the desk and eat doughnuts all day.”
“I’ve been wracking my brain to figure out how you kill somebody with a paintbrush. Wouldn’t the handle break?” I recalled the crime scene and the wound in the girl’s chest. Something about it seemed odd. Like someone staged it.
“Wait a minute. Paintbrush?” Wade made a motion like he was painting the side of a barn.
“An artist’s paintbrush, silly, not a paintbrush for painting walls. That would be too bizarre. There was an unfinished canvas and easel on the ground next to her. I guess we’ll wait until they release more details about the crime to find out who she was and who killed her,” I said.
“We should investigate and solve the crime ourselves. Clint’s out of town. The sheriff is short-staffed since the new deputy isn’t here yet. We could help,” Juliet said. Wade and I both turned and gave her open-mouthed stares. “What? Don’t stare at me like I’ve gone bat guano crazy. We found clues last time. Phee used to be the only one with investigator knowledge. Now that I’ve read every Agatha Christie novel in the library, I’ll be a real asset. Besides,” Juliet rummaged in her purse and pulled something out, “I made us both the coolest crime fighting accessory ever.”
I shook my head as I saw what Julie pulled out of her purse. She held two hot pink masks she had obviously sewn herself. A bedazzled ‘L’ was on the forehead of one and a ‘Y’ on the other. “Okay, ‘L’ I get. Super Librarian. But, Juls, I’m dying to know. What the heck does the ‘Y’ stand for?”
“Super Yogi!” She exclaimed.
“Lord love a duck, but I believe you’ve gone mad,” I laughed.
CHAPTER FIVE
“The two of you scare me sometimes, and this is coming from a guy who’s been to war.” Wade shook his head as he watched Juliet and I try on our masks. I had to admit that I liked my hot pink mask much better than my boring black one I made last year. “I don’t have enough in savings to bail you both out of jail if you get caught doing something crazy. Do I rescue my girlfriend or the lady who signs my paycheck? Decisions. Decisions.”
Juliet leaned over and gave Wade a quick peck on the lips. “No worries. Now that I’m in the game, there is no way we can get in trouble. Besides, the masks are for fun. I doubt we’ll ever be lucky enough to wear them.”
