A Misty Morning Murder (Myrtle Grove Garden Club Mystery Book 4) Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  A Misty Morning Murder

  Other Myrtle Grove Garden Club Mysteries

  Excerpt:

  Dedication and Acknowledgements

  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

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Dear Reader,

  Recipes from the Gilded Lily Tea Room

  Sadie’s Sunday Meatloaf

  Ingredients:

  Directions:

  Lemon Zest Pound Cake

  Ingredients:

  Directions:

  Excerpt from

  Chapter Two

  A MISTY MORNING MURDER

  A Myrtle Grove Garden Club Mystery

  Loulou Harrington

  A Misty Morning Murder

  Copyright © 2017 by Loulou Harrington

  Cover art by: Mark Combs of DzinDNA.com

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All Rights Reserved.

  No part of this work may be reproduced in any form or manner, except as allowed under “fair use,” without the express written permission of the author.

  Other Myrtle Grove Garden Club Mysteries

  Murder, Mayhem and Bliss

  Murder Most Thorny

  Murder on a Silver Sea

  Excerpt:

  When Jesse jerked awake again, it was to a crack of lightning, a blast of cold wind, and a stabbing ache up the side of her neck. As she reached toward the pain, the jingle of a phone vibrated against her palm. Startled, she stopped with her hand halfway to her neck and squinted down at the object clutched in her hand.

  Blinking against the fog of sleep that clung to her, she looked up and around and realized she still sat in the rocker on the veranda. Her blanket drooped off her shoulders. The other end of it wrapped in a tangle around her legs that were bent at the knees and tucked half under her with her feet flattened against the tightly woven arm of the rocker.

  Thunder rumbled and rolled overhead; jagged rivulets of lightning pierced the night sky; and the phone rang again, lighting up the darkness insistently. Still groggy, Jesse slid her thumb across it to answer. The pain in her stiff neck jabbed at her as she held the phone to her ear.

  “Hello?”

  “Jesse!”

  The voice was echoed and hollow sounding, like it was coming from a distance.

  “Hello?” she said again, almost yelling. “Who is this?”

  “Jes—“

  The word was slightly clearer but only part of a sound. That piece of a word, though, reminded her a lot of Ronnie’s voice. Then it was cut off by the sound of an impact that was both distant and muffled, sort of a boom and a bang combined. It seemed a lot like the thunder Jesse was hearing roll overhead like barrels across a wood floor, except for that feeling of impact.

  “Ronnie?” Jesse shouted in the phone. “Is that you?”

  There was a muffled response—more of an oomph than an actual word. Then there was a sliding sound directly in her ear followed by a thunk, and Jesse was pretty sure the phone she was listening to had just been thrown down or knocked off of whatever it was sitting on.

  “Ronnie!” she yelled again, not caring that she was outside in the middle of the night and that her voice might carry. Tonight no one would hear anything but the brewing storm.

  This book is dedicated to my fellow Writers, from the ones I’ve known since the beginning to the ones I’ve never met. I can’t imagine anyone ever becoming a successful author without the kind of generous support and guidance that I have unfailingly found in every writer I encounter. Thank you so much for walking beside me through the tangled wilderness of creating, publishing and marketing. I could never have done any of it on my own. You are my teachers, my friends, and my inspiration.

  Acknowledgements: None of this would be possible in its present form without the feedback and support of my fellow writers and friends who make up my critique groups. You share your expertise in areas that are far beyond writing. You keep me honest, and you laugh when you’re supposed to—what more could I ask for?

  A special thanks to Emrys Moreau for technical support that has made so much possible. Also to my wonderful beta reader and proofer who saved me when I had so much happening all at once. And to Mark Combs, who gave me a new vision for my covers and made it all come together.

  Don’t miss the recipes at the back of the book!

  To sign up for my mailing list and get even more recipes, special offers and gifts, plus all the latest news, go to my website: http://loulouharrington.com (your information will always be confidential.)

  Chapter One

  Over the sound of her drumming heartbeat, Jesse reminded herself to slow down and breathe. She had called Joe Tyler during her layover in Dallas to let him know her flight was on time and should arriving in Tulsa a little before eight p.m.

  “I’ll be there,” he’d said, but something in his voice had sounded hesitant.

  “What’s up?” she’d asked. This whole “first date that wasn’t a date” thing was awkward enough without anything else adding to it.

  “Nothing much.” He did a lousy job of sounding casual. “A slight change of plans, that’s all. I’ll explain when I see you.”

  She’d wanted to argue, but her plane was being called. She’d spent the remainder of her flight time home reassuring herself there was nothing to worry about. After all, he was the sheriff of Waite County and not her private taxi driver. Maybe something had come up, and he had to work. Maybe the “alone time” over dinner he had planned would be fast food carryout and a hurried drive back to Myrtle Grove.

  Jesse wished it didn’t matter to her, but what had seemed like a nuisance a week ago, when she’d first agreed, had become something she was looking forward to. And now she’d spent the last hour worrying that she was going to be dumped on her doorstep with a McDonald’s sack in her hand.

  She jockeyed for a clear view past the other passengers hurrying down the corridor ahead of her. Beyond them were the glass doors to the luggage pickup and freedom. She saw people waiting just behind the glass doors, and her heart lifted to know that someone waited for her, too. Maybe.

  An instant later, she saw him. Standing tall, separate, and in full uniform, he looked more like he was waiting to arrest someone than to meet her for a date that wasn’t really a date. What he’d actually invited her to was a meeting with dinner included, a “talk” in a casual setting, with food and wine. She clearly remembered the mention of wine.

  Sheriff Joe Tyler looked up and saw her as Jesse came through the revolving door. He smiled and took a step forward, then stopped, seeming
almost as awkward and hesitant as she felt. He took off his hat, mauling it between his hands, staring at her.

  “Hi.” Jesse came to a halt in front of him. Other passengers streamed around them, but she barely noticed.

  “You’re looking good,” he said.

  She was wearing a flannel shirt and blue jeans with her ever-present, neon pink sneakers. Her hair had been slept in all the way from Seattle, and her makeup was practically nonexistent. He was either genuinely glad to see her or lying through his teeth.

  “Thanks. You’re not wearing sunglasses.” She gazed into his warm chocolate eyes that held just a touch of cinnamon today, and she smiled. “You have nice eyes when you’re not fussing at me.”

  “Was that flirting?” he asked, sounding surprised.

  “Not very good, was it?” A little bubble of happiness pushed its way past her worry.

  “I’m flattered that you would even try.” He smiled back at her. “Sorry about the uniform. I didn’t have time to change. I have other clothes in the truck, but…”

  His words dribbled to a halt, a frown pulled at his brows, and his gaze slid away. Jesse knew the lead up to bad news when she saw it.

  “What?” she demanded. Her irritation ground both happiness and worry under its heel. “I’m really hungry, and I’m guessing our dinner plans have changed. Can I at least get a takeout sandwich someplace?”

  His eyes found hers, and he shook his head. “Your mother sends her apologies, but something has come up, and she asked me to bring you straight home.”

  “Is she all right?” Jesse’s heart thudded with dread and plunged to the pit of her stomach. She should never have left so suddenly. Her mother was almost seventy, too old to be…

  “She’s fine,” Joe said, interrupting Jesse’s runaway guilt.

  But her relief didn’t last long as her mind took off in another direction. “The tearoom?” People depended on her. She couldn’t just go running off the way she had done and expect everyone else to pick up the slack. What if…

  “The business is fine. As far as I know.”

  “Well, what is it?” she demanded, now in a hurry to go straight home.

  “You’ve got company. And that’s all I’m saying.” He took her elbow and turned her toward the escalator that would take them down to the baggage area and the short-term parking lot beyond. “Do you have any bags checked?”

  Without breaking stride, she gestured toward the backpack she still wore. “I’ve got it all.”

  Joe slipped his hand under the shoulder strap and slid the pack away from her and into the crook of his arm. Jesse started to protest but flexed her shoulders instead. It felt good to be free, and it was the least he could do if he wasn’t going to feed her.

  “No Vivian?” he asked. “I thought the two of you were travelling together.”

  “We flew up to the San Juan Islands together, but she decided to stay on at Drake’s Rest to help them get the bed and breakfast up and running. They’ve still got staff to hire, and you know Viv. She’s a born CEO.”

  “It’ll be interesting to see if you stay out of mischief without Vivian Windsor around.”

  “I’m perfectly capable of getting into my own mischief, thank you.” Jesse looked around and realized the other passengers had cleared the area, leaving the two of them alone. The setting seemed intimate suddenly.

  Taking her elbow again, Joe stopped her just short of the escalator. “I’m sorry tonight didn’t work out.” He stood very close, looking down at her, his chest against her shoulder.

  Tall for a woman and athletically lean, Jesse wasn’t used to feeling petite, but he had a way of making her feel almost tiny next to him. And it wasn’t just his size. He crowded her in a way few people ever had, man or woman. He insisted on trying to protect her whether she wanted it or not. He gave her advice she didn’t ask for or appreciate. And this was the first time she could ever remember hearing the word “sorry” come out of his mouth.

  The man was an irritant, like a grain of sand to an oyster, but so far there was no pearl anywhere in sight.

  “We will have dinner,” he said. “We will talk. Just not tonight.”

  She looked up at him and forgot to breathe. His eyes had the look of a storm moving in. His jaw was clenched, and his body was tight as a bowstring. And then he kissed her.

  Long, slow, and deep…he drank her in like she was the last drop of water in his world. Jesse leaned into him, her shoulder to his chest, nothing else touching, and everything she knew was in that one point of contact. Her blood pounded in her ears, her knees trembled, and still she couldn’t draw a breath.

  When he lifted his head from hers, she wasn’t sure she could stand on her own.

  “That’s a promise,” he said in a voice that sounded as rough as she felt.

  She nodded, afraid to look directly at him and pretty sure she couldn’t talk if she wanted to. Just getting to his truck seemed Herculean. Damn him anyway. She couldn’t remember the last time she had felt this way. In fact, she couldn’t remember ever feeling this way. And he seemed just fine. Still breathing. Still walking.

  His hand at her elbow, he guided her down the escalator, past the luggage carousels and outside while Jesse tried to pretend she hadn’t just stepped off a carnival ride that left her head disconnected from her feet.

  The drive to Myrtle Grove was long and silent. Jesse had lost her appetite but eventually regained her ability to think straight. By the time Joe’s truck pulled up in front of the stately Victorian that was both her home and her business, her brain and feet no longer felt as if they belonged to two different people.

  The truck was barely stopped before Jesse had the door open and her backpack in her hand.

  Joe’s brows rose, but he didn’t try to slow her exit. “Call me later if you need anything, or if you want to cash in that dinner I.O.U.”

  She looked at him, wanting to respond with something that sounded halfway normal, but her feelings were still scrambled, and the right words wouldn’t come. He made her feel like a teenager with her first crush, and she resented that with everything in her.

  “Okay.” She already had one foot on the ground and was easing her way through the pickup’s door.

  “Welcome home, Jesse.” His smile was soft, and his words were a caress.

  “Thank you for picking me up.” She could have kicked herself for such an awkward response, especially when his grin widened into that amused look she seemed to bring out in him.

  With both feet on the ground, Jesse closed the door behind her, hefted her backpack onto her shoulder and headed up the sidewalk toward the house that she and her mother had divided into two small apartments upstairs and two businesses downstairs. Checking her watch, Jesse reminded herself that she had lost two hours on the flight home and that it was now early evening in Oklahoma.

  She had barely reached the porch when the door opened and her mother stood there.

  “Don’t get upset,” Sophia said, looking worried.

  She seemed to be doing her best to block the door, but in the shadows behind her mother, Jesse could make out the vague form of someone else standing at the foot of the stairs.

  “We have company!” Her mother put a lot of effort into sounding happy and fell short completely, which wasn’t good, because Sophia Camden excelled at being happy.

  Looking from the frown that overshadowed her mother’s smile to the shadowy figure that seemed to be moving closer, Jesse had a feeling that Joe Tyler had just become the least of her worries.

  Chapter Two

  “Hi, Jesse.”

  A head popped up behind Sophia’s shoulder, revealing white-blonde hair with a fuchsia streak, bangs cut at a sloping angle, pale green eyes and a nervous smile that never failed to tug at Jesse’s heart.

  “Misty? What in the world are you doing here?” A maelstrom of happiness, dread and confusion swirled to life inside Jesse, leaving her too stunned to move. She tried to think of one reason in the world why
Misty Bennett should be on her doorstep and couldn’t find one. Not one reason.

  The teenaged girl, seeming all arms and legs, squeezed between Sophia and the door jam and hurled herself into Jesse’s arms with a force that carried them both staggering backwards several steps.

  “I hate her!” the girl sobbed against Jesse’s shoulder. “I hate her, and I’m never going home again!”

  Over the top of Misty’s head, Jesse cast a questioning look to where Sophia waited in the doorway.

  Her mother smiled in commiseration, shrugged and said, “I think I’ll put on a pot of water to heat. Misty, hon, would you like a cup of tea?”

  With a sniff, Misty lifted her head from Jesse’s shoulder and twisted around. “Yes, thank you. Do you have any chai?”

  “I imagine I could find some. Jesse, dear, why don’t you take Misty up to the veranda so we can all sit and have a nice little talk over some hot tea?”

  “Oh, yes. Please?” Misty raised begging eyes to Jesse. “I just love that veranda. I love your whole house.”

  “Where are you staying?” Jesse asked. “When did you get here? And where is your…”

  “I put her in your room, dear,” Sophia called from the foyer on her way to the kitchen. “Now run on upstairs. I’ll be there as soon as the tea kettle whistles.”

  “My room?” Jesse asked Misty, who nodded.

  “I just love your apartment. I like Sophia’s, too. I love your whole house.”

  “Yes, you said that.” Jesse stared down at the child who had captured her heart a decade earlier and fought her own desire to welcome the girl in, close the door behind them, and shut out the world. “Where’s your father?” Jesse asked instead.