Juniper Grove Cozy Mystery Box Set 1, page 41
part #1 of Juniper Grove Cozy Mystery Series
“No one told us,” Betty said. “Who was it?”
“It happened last night, so it’s not in the paper,” I said. “It was Ben Wallace, a lecturer at Northern Colorado Community College.”
“Why would he want to kill Anne?” Donna asked. “She never hurt anyone.”
“Never hurt a soul,” Frank said.
“It’s so unfair,” Betty added.
Their confusion, a byproduct of their innocence and kindness, made my heart heavy. I explained as best I could why Ben had taken Anne’s life, but again I didn’t mention Paige. They hadn’t heard that she, too, was killed, and there was no point in telling them. Anne’s murder was enough sadness for them to bear.
“Did that handsome police chief arrest him?”
I turned. Behind me was the wisp of a woman I’d seen two days ago—the interloper who had placed herself between Betty and Gilroy on the couch.
“Yes, he did,” I told her. “And locked him up.”
She edged closer to the back of the couch. “Are those donuts for everyone?”
“Absolutely.”
Frank lifted the box and balanced it on the back of the couch, holding it there until the woman made her choice.
“Tell him for us that we’re grateful he caught that man,” Betty said. “I feel safer knowing he’s the chief.”
“Me too,” I said. “He’s a good man.”
Gilroy had sent me a text message late last night, as Holly, Julia, and I sat in Nora’s house, unable to sleep, our imaginations working overtime with what might be happening to Dominic and Ben: “Paid Mr. Wallace a visit. He was with forger. Confessed. Mrs. Wallace angry, didn’t know about forgery. Get feeling she thought it might be fake and didn’t care. Suppose that’s not a criminal offense.”
That text message was as much as he’d ever told me about a case before it made it to the courts. I smiled when I saw it, and smiled again remembering it. And then Gilroy had texted that he’d asked friends of his to repair my door on Monday at a big discount. He hoped he wasn’t sticking his nose in. Was it all right with me? I’d texted back that it was more than all right.
A few minutes later, remembering Dominic and his predicament, I’d texted Gilroy again: “Please don’t arrest Dominic. Nora doesn’t want you to. She knows everything he did.”
Julia had rolled her eyes through the entire exchange. “There are such things as phones,” she’d said.
Nora had told me she would call the station first thing in the morning, to make sure there were no charges against Dominic. And she would take Dominic back in a few days, but only as her financial adviser. He wasn’t to set foot in the documents room or any place other than her kitchen. For now, her collection was off-limits to everyone. Maybe one day a college student writing a paper would be allowed to search the documents. Maybe.
“It’s snowing,” Betty said, pointing at the windows overlooking the parking lot.
I twisted back in my seat. Fat flakes drifted lazily to the ground, and a thin layer of snow shimmered on the asphalt. I thought of the Kiss in the Snow and grinned. Broadly enough that Frank asked me what I was laughing about.
“I’m just happy, Frank. Mind if I have a donut?”
“You go right ahead,” Donna said. “You have as many as you want. What kind do you like?”
“Jelly. Like you,” I said, reaching into the box. Boy, was I overdoing it on the sweets. But I wanted to celebrate, and celebrate I would.
“It’s going to be Christmas before we know it,” Frank said, shaking his head in dismay. “I have to go shopping for all my grandchildren.”
“Shop online,” Betty said. “That’s what I do.”
“I don’t shop for anyone,” Donna said.
Betty put an arm around her friend. “We’ll shop for each other, won’t we? We’ll all have each other for Christmas.”
I took a bite of my donut, a small one so it wouldn’t ooze jelly down my coat. I even plugged the tiny hole at the back of the donut with my finger so no jelly would escape from there. I was getting better at this.
Frank jabbed my arm to get my attention and pointed toward the receptionist desk. “Martina is trying to get your attention.”
Taking my donut with me, I crossed the lobby to meet with the assisted living home’s director—an older woman herself, maybe no more than twenty years from an assisted living home. Good, I thought. Better than a younger person. She knows what the residents go through.
“Martina Oliver,” she said, giving me her hand. “I’m the director of Aspen Glen. I’ve been hearing about your donuts, Rachel.”
“Hi,” I said, shaking her hand with my free one. “They’re Holly Kavanagh’s. From Holly’s Sweets.”
Martina’s hand went to her collarbone. “Oh, straight from the gates of heaven. I can’t resist.”
I glanced sheepishly down at my hand. “Neither can I.”
“I’ve also heard how you helped Nora Barberton, and I wanted to thank you.”
“I didn’t really help her.”
“That’s not what I heard. She called me first thing this morning and told me you’d solved Anne Rightler’s murder.” She laughed when she saw my questioning look. “Not that Nora keeps me informed on everything, but we chat almost every morning. We’re old friends.”
“Poor Anne. All she wanted to do was protect something precious that belonged to her friend, and she died for it. It’s a shame Nora’s historical collection was in such bad hands, at least for a time.”
“Those so-called friends of hers,” Martina said gruffly. “They didn’t give a fig about her. All they cared about was her money.”
“Her money and that ugly miniature.”
Martina’s lips curved into a smile. “Nora told me about the miniature. As soon as the insurance company appraised it, she decided to sell it and give the proceeds to Aspen Glen. She told me not to tell her cataloger if I ever met her.”
I wondered if Martina knew the miniature was a fake. And I quickly decided it wasn’t my place to tell her. “Nora needs to save some of that money for herself, I think,” I said as delicately as possible. “For her future, I mean.”
“I know that,” Martina replied, touching my forearm, letting me know without saying so that she knew Nora’s secret. “Nora has a place at Aspen Glen, whenever she needs it and for as long as she needs it. Free of charge, approved by the board.”
“Really? That’s wonderful.”
“The board decided yesterday, and I told Nora when we talked this morning. But with all she’s done for us?” Martina nodded. “You bet she’s welcome here. In a way, she’s paid for her stay many times over. And she’s still helping us. She asked Donna to dinner this Friday.” Martina lowered her voice. “You’ve met Donna. She doesn’t have any family. No one visits her.”
“Now she has family,” I said, my eyes traveling back to the fireplace, where Donna, Betty, and Frank ate their donuts, talked, and laughed. “And she has friends.”
Martina excused herself and I stood for a moment by the receptionist desk, watching the snow fall. I had much to be thankful for. Not turkey and mashed potatoes, but good friends and James Gilroy.
“Are you going to eat that?” the receptionist asked me, staring with covetous desire at my donut.
“Oh, yeah. But there are more in a box near the fireplace, so help yourself.” I took a large bite, and a glob of blueberry jelly hit my coat. “No, no. What is wrong with me? I don’t believe it! Do you have a paper towel or napkin?”
The receptionist searched her desk top. “Sorry, no. Nothing.”
I swept up the glob with my fingers, did the only thing I could do with it—eat it—and dashed out to my car for some paper towels I kept in the cargo area. This coat was too new, too precious. Why had I chosen blueberry? Nothing ruined fabric better.
Ten feet from my Forester, I ran into Gilroy and froze like a statue. There I was, my fingers stained blue, my coat with a big blue stain on it. I was reliving the embarrassing and all-too-recent past.
“Blueberry again?” he said, his eyes twinkling.
“You must think I have an obsession.”
“I think you know your mind when it comes to donuts, and there’s nothing wrong with that.”
I gestured at the car door. “I need a paper towel.”
“You forget I have a handkerchief,” he said, pulling one from his suit jacket and putting it in my hand.
I wiped my fingers and then my coat, making a rather hopeless face as I did the latter.
“I know a cleaner who can get blueberry out,” he said.
“You know a lot of people.” I gave up on the paper towel and let my hands drop. “Thank you for calling someone to fix my door.”
“No problem.”
The snow swirled around my car, driven by a gust of wind, and then settled again, falling gently to the ground.
“I think it’s long past time we had our Thanksgiving dinner.”
“I agree.”
And then he put his arm around me, lowered his face to mine, and kissed me in the snow.
FROM THE AUTHOR
We all need a place to escape to from time to time. A place where neighbors drink cups of coffee around a kitchen table (and some indulge in cream puffs), where friends feel safe sharing their hearts’ deepest yearnings, where neighbors stop to chat with neighbors outside flower shops. True, the occasional murder mars the Juniper Grove landscape, but what would a mystery series be without dead bodies? Juniper Grove is still that place of escape, and I hope you’ll join me there for all the books in the series. I look forward to sharing more of Rachel Stowe and her friends with you.
If you’ve enjoyed this box set or any of the books in it, please consider leaving a review on Amazon. Nothing fancy, just a couple sentences. Your help is appreciated more than I can say. Reviews make a huge difference in helping readers find the Juniper Grove Mystery Series and in allowing me to continue to write the series. Thank you!
MORE BOOKS BY KARIN KAUFMAN
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The Witch Tree
Sparrow House
The Sacrifice
The Club
Bitter Roots
Anna Denning Mystery Series Box Set: Books 1-3
CHILDREN’S BOOKS (FOR CHILDREN AND ADULTS)
The Adventures of Geraldine Woolkins
Karin Kaufman, Juniper Grove Cozy Mystery Box Set 1
