Howdy. The ladies called from way ovah the Pacific to ask me to post today. Miss Rey was supposed to, but she ended up showing an actor friend the town and got back around three in the a.m. Seems she’s still sleeping it off (hear a few Mai Tais were involved).
So, folks, today is Day 3 of The Connecticut Corpse Caper promotion. It’s FREE from Nov 8 – 12. Hoo-wee. Can’t beat that.
Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Sheriff Augustus Jacob Lewis and I first met the ladies when my deputy and I were called in to check on a body in Miss Matty Moone’s mansion.
Let me give y’all a rundown . . .
“What about the fact that Thomas Saturne died?” Miss Linda asked with a pretty frown.
Gwynne, my deputy, sighed. “It was an accidental death-”
“For sure?” she challenged, looking feisty.
“For now.” I drained my coffee and stood. “Matty Moone was a good lady and she made a tasty pear crumble pie-”
“Pear crumble pie?” Miss Rey and Miss Jill asked simultaneously. They seemed really surprised that their aunt baked.
“Your ahnt enjoyed baking in the fall. Never did it any othah time of the year, except for the week around Christmas, of course. She dropped off a couple of pies, like clockwork, every second Friday throughout the autumn months.” I smiled wistfully and gazed into the distance, as if a slice were within reach. Gosh, those pies were damn tasty.
“Shouldn’t you check out the entire property?” Miss Linda demanded.
“I was going to say, before I was interrupted, she made tasty pear crumble pies but she made even greatah jokes.” I glanced from one lady to the next. “As her nieces, you’d know that bettah than anyone. She probably got this Jensen Moone fellow to play anothah prank.”
“But-”
Gwynne’s concentrated stare silenced Miss Linda.
She frowned and turned to the mammoth fireplace.
“If you won’t find him, we will,” Miss Rey stated haughtily, hopping to her feet.
“When you find him, I’m sure he’ll be roaring with laughtah,” I said with a grin, smoothing my shirt over a belly that had enjoyed many of Mathilda Moone’s pear pies and more. Those were the days. “We’ll see ourselves ount. Please thank the team in the kitchen for the hospitality.”
I really got to like these ladies. Why don’t you read Caper and find out why these likable ladies decided to become private investigators?
Miss Rey’ll be here tomorrow . . . maybe.
The Writer's Grab-Bag 