Mystery Door

Thursdays are Mystery Door days! Choose a door. A surprise is waiting for you!

FROM MYSTERY AUTHOR:

Mystery Author is taking a brief vacation. It will be back next week with new Heartsong authors.

But today, we're exicted to introduce Andromeda Hartley from Greenburg, Tennessee. Andromeda will tell you about Lynette Sowell's wonderfuly cozy mystery, THE WILES OF WATERMELON! Remember, if you want to get to know Andromeda, Belle, CiCi, Leigh, Emily, Ivy - and many more interesting characters, you need to join the Heartsong Presents: Mysteries! book club. As cold weather approaches, there's nothing warmer than a cozy mystery to chase away the chill.

Last week's winner of Darlene's Franklin's GUNFIGHT AT GRACE GULCH is Brenda! Congratulations, Brenda!

See you next week!

Nancy

The Wiles of Watermelon

Andromeda Clark here! Um, I mean Andromeda Hartley. Ben and I finally tied the knot and we're just loving married life here in Greenburg, Tennessee. We built a nice farmhouse on old Mrs. Flanders' property and her ever-present gigantic watermelon patch is right across the driveway. I have no idea who takes the trouble to plant them, but everyone in Greenburg knows about the patch and someone's carried on the deceased woman's tradition.

Tennessee River Soaps is thriving and our latest specialty scent is watermelon. I figured with the upcoming Chamber of Commerce sponsored watermelon festival, I should be supportive since I'm on the publicity committee. Ben's boss, Honey Haggerty, roped me into that one. Besides, there's something so summery about watermelon, and I can't get away from the fruit. Momma's trying to teach me how to make pickled watermelon rind and can preserves, too. But it's been hard finding the time or inclination to go across our driveway to the watermelon patch after what happened.

I should explain. We've had buckets of rain here. The most in many years, the weatherman says. Recently the crazy kitten Ben gave me headed straight for the muddiest part of the driveway, and then into the field. If Spot is supposed to get me used to the idea of motherhood, it's not working. I managed to catch up with the little darling in the watermelon patch, and part of me wishes I hadn't. Children can get into worse messes than wayward kittens!

Spot found part of a skeleton, and the police say it's been there a long time. I guess with all the rain we had or something, those remains were bound to turn up.

People just don't keel over and get buried in fields. And now I just don't care to head across to that patch anymore. I'm afraid of what I'll find.

My longsuffering brother-in-law, Jerry, says the remains belong to a young woman, barely out of her teens, early twenties at the most. I'm afraid I know who she is. I'm also afraid a few people in Greenburg won't be happy that the past has returned. And that includes my family.

Find out what Andi Hartley discovers in The Wiles of Watermelon by Lynette Sowell, available now through Heartsong Presents: Mysteries!

Short Story Mystery

Sealed and Delivered by Elizabeth Ludwig

Part 2

Lady Manchester’s heart leapt. “What? It can’t be. That stamp has been in my family for generations.”

“A stamp perhaps, but not this stamp,” Jeffrey said, his voice smug.

Resisting the urge to slap the mockery from his face, Lady Manchester whirled to stare at Rochester. “Charles, what do you have to say to all of this?” She gave an irritated wave toward the stamp in Jeffrey’s hand.

“I-I-” Charles stammered.

“Well don’t just stand there,” Lady Manchester demanded with a stomp of her foot. “Come look.”

Stumbling from his seat, Charles scampered across the room to do her bidding. He fumbled to remove his glasses and puffed on the lenses before clumsily replacing them. The room full of bidders watched every move.

Vultures, Lady Manchester thought. Money grabbing leeches. Too bad she needed every one of them.

Desperately.

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Stay tuned next week for Part 3 of Sealed and Delivered.

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For Discussion: What secret is Lady Manchester hiding that makes her "desperate" for buyers?

Monday Mystery Theater

The Case:

Mr. Basil was a methodical man who liked to plan things down to the smallest detail. This evening's schedule, for instance, included murdering his shrew of a wife. He would do it as soon as they got home.

While driving back to their house, Mr. Basil made a slight alteration to his plan. He dropped off his wife at the front door, then drove across town to the home of Dean Archway. Afer killing Archway, Basil returned to his own house and proceeded to go through with the scheduled murder of his wife.

The Mystery:

Why did Basil alter his plan and make the detour to kill Archway?

The Clues:

1. Mrs. Basil had her last meal at her favorite restaurant.

2. Basil and Archway had similar tastes in clothing.

The Answer:

Think you know the answer? Fill in the comment box to submit your guess. Winner receives a free Heartsong Presents Mystery!

Special Feature!!

DOG GONE by EILEEN KEY

Cleaning lady Belle Blevins dusts off her sleuthing skills when a rash of missing dogs jeopardizes her best friend’s boarding business. Why would anyone go to such extremes to steal a family pet?
When Belle learns the missing animals could possibly be in the hands of dognappers, she trades her vacuum for a detective kit and enters the world of valuable show dogs. Will she win a blue ribbon in the romance category? Or will her curiosity put her on the no-show list for the next round of competition?

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Eileen Key, freelance writer and editor, resides in San Antonio, Texas, near her grown children and two wonderful grandchildren. She’s published nine anthology stories, numerous articles and devotionals. Her first mystery novel Dog Gone is from Barbour publishing.
Read more about EILEEN KEY

AND NOW AN EXCERPT FROM . . .
DOG GONE

A lost show dog would reflect on Ginnie's business and hit my pocketbook. The taxes on my property had jumped significantly. And if Ginnie's revenue was cut, she'd not be able to make the quarterly lease payment in June. I certainly couldn't cover it all. I'd risk losing land that had been in my family for three generations.

While Ginnie placed the phone call, I went to the back door and stepped outside. I ran my fingers lightly over the doorjamb by the knob. No sign of forced entry. No shoe prints. I circled to the front door and two windows. Nothing. A thick black wire caught my eye. "Security cameras." I opened the door and hollered, "Ginnie, the cameras."

"What?"

"Your security cameras. Let's look at the tapes."

"Of course. They're so new I never thought of them. Where's my mind today?"

Mounted in the top corner of two hallways, black cameras gave a view of all the doggie domains. We could pull the tapes and solve our dilemma. Schotzie could be home by dinnertime.

Ginnie met me underneath a camera. "I can't believe I didn't run to them right off. This one would show more."

I braced an arm against the wall, stood on tiptoes, and peered at the camera to check its angle. It pointed toward the first row of doggie boudoirs. I couldn't see well. "Looks like something is on the lens."

"There's a stool inside the grooming area. Let me get it." Ginnie dragged it to the hallway.

"Steady it and let me climb." I swiveled the camera toward my face once I was high enough to reach it and felt a sticky blob covering the lens. My heart sank. Pinching off a bit, I smelled it. "Ginnie, it's bubblegum."

We checked the camera at the other end of the hallway. More gum. Frustration welled in my chest as I dropped to the floor. "Looks to me like these have been intentionally sabotaged."

She covered her mouth with one hand. "Oh no, this can't be happening." She shivered.

I gripped her arm. "Did you call Sheriff Connors?" At her nod, I guided her down the hall, heartsick. I wondered where Scholander's Pride might be-and who would have gone to such trouble to take her.

The sheriff 's dispatcher had promised to send out a deputy to investigate, and Ginnie and I waited in the kennel's kitchen. Ginnie had purchased a glass-and chrome dinette, a black refrigerator, and matching microwave. Pampered Pooch's lounge offered comfort to its employees, too.

"Coffee?" Ginnie motioned to the pot. "I mean tea. I know you don't drink coffee. See how scrambled my brain is?" She filled two mugs with water and placed them in the microwave. I opened a tea bag and dunked it in the cup she handed me.

"Who had access to the kennel last night?"

"Only Charlie Baker, my evening tech. He left before nine." Ginnie dipped her tea bag up and down and stared into space. "I heard him leave."

I reached for a packet of sweetener and stirred it in. "I thought it was his job to walk the dogs."

"Well, it is, but I enjoy doing it sometimes. Keeps the lonesomes away." She batted her eyelashes and fought tears. "I hate bedtime now that Mitch is gone."Her voice strained, "Two long years of emptiness."

I squeezed her hand. "We'll figure this out, honey." I sipped tea and looked at her over the rim of the cup. "Don't fret. It makes wrinkles around your eyes." And it was giving me a pounding headache.

She fingered her eyelids and smoothed out the crow's-feet, massaging her temples. Ginnie's blond curls and perfect makeup were her trademarks. I must admit, she had a touch of vanity. Often she'd tried to get me "to spruce up a bit," as she called it, but I liked my less-than-perfect look. I could smear on foundation and a dab of lipstick and be out the door faster than she could curl her eyelashes.

A car pulled up, and Ginnie popped up to look out the window. "It's Deputy Dawg." A sad smile tugged at her lips. Don Dawson seemed to enter the door behind his protruding belly. He'd earned his nickname with his slow drawl and droopy jowls, but for the many years I'd known him, he'd always proven to be a good friend. I tipped my teacup in his direction and hid my smile as I sipped.

He nodded in my direction. "Morning, Miss Ginnie." He slid his mirrored sunglasses into his pocket. "Coffee smells mighty good." Ginnie pointed to the cabinet, and he grabbed a Styrofoam cup. "Sheriff said to get here quick. What's the trouble?"

"I've lost a dog." Ginnie's forlorn voice sounded childlike.

He sipped his coffee. "Lost him?" He looked around the room as though Schotzie were under the table.

She crossed her arms. "I have searched the premises, Don, and the dog is simply not here."

I spoke up, "What's worse, the security cameras have been disabled." I explained the gum.

"Well, let's take a look-see." He ambled into the hallway and stopped. "Show me around this fancy place." He grinned. "I told my wife you'd opened a hotel for dogs, and she couldn't believe me. I'll get to tell her tonight I took a tour."

"Don, I'll gladly give you a tour, but you're here to help me find a dog." Ginnie practically stomped her tiny size 5 sandal. "Not just any dog, either. A dog worth thousands of dollars."

His eyebrows shot up. "Thousands?"

"Thousands," I echoed. "This is an award-winning show dog. We need to find her." I slid my chair from the table and patted Don on the back. "This way, Deputy."

To read more of DOG GONE be sure to subscibe to:
Heartsong Presents: Mysteries!

Mystery Door

Thursdays are Mystery Door days! Choose a door. A surprise is waiting for you!