Message for Murder (Rutledge Historical Society Cozy Mysteries, Book 1) by Jerri Kay Lincoln
Release date: October 11, 2018
Subgenre: Cozy mystery
About Message for Murder:
The first book in the Rutledge Historical Society Cozy Mystery Series.
Lorry Lockharte’s first day on her new job brings her a big surprise: a dead body. Two sisters dead in a week’s time—one murder, one accident. Lorry thinks the so-called accident seems a little too convenient. Is it really an accident as everybody believes? Sassy and irreverent, Lorry plans to prove otherwise and solve the murders. One recipe included!
Lorry Lockharte’s first day on her new job brings her a big surprise: a dead body. Two sisters dead in a week’s time—one murder, one accident. Lorry thinks the so-called accident seems a little too convenient. Is it really an accident as everybody believes? Sassy and irreverent, Lorry plans to prove otherwise and solve the murders. One recipe included!
Excerpt:
As I looked through the glass windows of the gift store, I passed
another desk on my left. That must be Priscilla’s desk. What was
that other name that Martha used? It was something weird, I knew
that much. There was a slight turn to the right, but as I was about
to walk through the passageway, I felt another sneeze coming on. My
head lifted automatically—I think it’s mandatory that heads do that
when you sneeze—and as I sneezed my eyes closed, also
automatically, and I stepped forward. My foot ran into something,
and I had to grab the doorjamb to catch myself from falling.
When my sneeze concluded, I opened my eyes and quickly covered my
mouth with my hand to stifle my scream. My foot had hit a dead
body.
With my hand still over my mouth, my mind raced. I know it sounds
stupid, but the first thing that came to my mind was, wouldn’t they
have taken away the dead body by now? It had been days since she
died. The reason I thought that—see, it’s not as stupid as it
sounds—was because I had been told Betty Wellesley had been found
at the foot of the stairs, having tumbled down them carrying a box
of books. But this woman, who looked the same age as the first
deceased, was also resting at the foot of the stairs. There were no books around. So who was
this?
I stumbled back to my desk, one hand on my mouth and the other on
my heart. I sat down and began to search frantically for Martha’s
number at the City of Rutledge—as if Rutledge was actually a city,
but no need to quibble about that at the moment. After a minute of
fruitless searching, I decided to just dial 9-1-1. So after I
sneezed again, that’s what I did.
“Hello! I’d like to report a—a—a dead body! Yeah, that’s it! A dead
body! That’s what I’d like to do is report a dead body!” I didn’t
give the dispatcher time to say anything. Words kept spewing out of
my mouth as if I had no control over them. Because I didn’t. “I’m
at the Hysterical—I mean Historical Society!” Breathless, I finally
stopped talking. “No! I didn’t kill her! I just found her! . . .
Yes, I’m sure she’s dead. She’s just laying there and not moving!
What would you call it?” Okay, I was getting a little flustered,
but wouldn’t you be if someone asked you such stupid questions? At
least they seemed stupid at the time. “Fine. I’ll be here.”
Desperate as I was for something familiar—finding a dead body is
not the most common thing to happen to a person—I stuck my hand
into the garbage can and pulled out my empty coffee cup. I held it
up to my mouth and willed it to have a drop or two left in it. All
that I got was a fragment of lint. At least I hoped it was lint. I
spit it out as the door burst open—the bell almost jingling off its
tether—and the sheriff strode on through without saying a word.
Maybe he didn’t see me. I’m not exactly petite—okay, I’m a little
on the chunky side—but I blend in rather well.
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