Jones Baker's Dozen: 13 Tales of Murder and More

1. Auflage 2012
ISBN: 978-1-62488-390-3
Verlag: BookBaby
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: Adobe DRM (»Systemvoraussetzungen)

E-Book, Englisch, 85 Seiten

'A Baker's Dozen: 13 Tales of Murder and More' is a compilation of short stories created over 30 years, written by a former journalist and including contributions by her mother, a professional proofreader. From murder in the mountains of Tennessee to the adventures of an all-woman air conditioning repair crew in Northern Virginia, a trip down the runway of a senior citizen beauty pageant, and the secrets revealed in the aftermath of a violent tornado, this page-turner is a blend of psychological suspense, surprise endings, satire, tearjerkers, and just plain, laugh-out-loud fun.

Autoren/Hrsg.

Jones, Eleanor Cawood

Leseproben

When her local public library sponsored a mystery writing contest for patrons in the late 1990s, competition was fierce, and Mom wasted no time in plotting her character’s demise. The story judging panel was comprised of a university professor as well as library board members. Rumor has it that when the judges were reading the numerous entries, one judge cried, “This is it!” upon finishing Mom’s story, and waved the printed sheets of paper in the air. The judges and library patrons loved Charlie and Sunny. We hope you will, too. The Sampler By: Dorothy Cawood Jones The Whitman’s Sampler® was open on the coffee table, just the way it always was. Sunny liked to pick out a piece of candy from the list, said it just tasted better when she knew what it was. Charlie leaned over to get a caramel, making sure he didn’t disturb the order of the remaining pieces of candy. He still had a fourth of his book to read and he needed to hurry if he was to get it back to the library tomorrow. Sunny thought paying library fines was a complete waste of money. Sunny would be better off if she read more and ate less Sampler, he thought to himself. Sunny and her friend, Martha Jo, were at the movies and he knew it took a long time to see Titanic. He had needed extra time to carry out his plan, and he didn’t think anyone could detect that the foil-wrapped chocolate-covered cherry had been disturbed. Martha Jo wouldn’t come in tonight but she would be over early in the morning, and that tempting piece of candy was sure to end up in her pocket before she went home. It had taken a long time to get the poison inserted into the chocolate and then rewrap it satisfactorily. It wouldn’t bear close inspection, but Martha Jo didn’t linger over anything she ate. He would know by morning if his plan had worked. The door opened and Sunny came in. “The movie was great, a really thumbs-up movie, but it was long and I’m too tired to stay up any longer.” “I dozed off while you were gone, honey, so I’m going to try and get more of this story read before coming up,” Charlie told her as she gave him a quick kiss and hug. Charlie thought she looked pretty and told her so. As usual on Saturday, they were up at eight. Charlie soon followed Sunny downstairs. He sniffed. “Blueberry muffins?” Sunny nodded. “I believe I’ll have my coffee in a mug and just two of those muffins—in the living room. I want to get back to my book for a while before starting the yard work,” Charlie said. It was about nine o’clock when he heard someone at the back door. “Martha Jo, right on time,” he called to Sunny. He wondered how Sunny could bear having Martha Jo around so much. Fifteen minutes and in here she’ll be, he thought. Sure enough, Martha Jo soon came in, gave him a kiss on the forehead, put one piece of candy in her mouth and then quickly grabbed the foil-wrapped cherry and stuck it in her pocket. “Charlie, my dear,” she said, “You’re going to have to wear out more of your undershirts so Sunny and I will have plenty of cloths for our cleaning. I’m polishing the paneling this morning and can hardly reach the fireplace corner. Couldn’t you come over and do that for me?” “Martha Jo, I can do just about everything else you need around your house, but I don’t do paneling and I don’t do windows, so just scoot on home and be a do-it-yourselfer.” “Well, Charlie, I do have at least two handyman jobs on my list if you could maybe come later today or Sunday afternoon, please,” she said, as a choice, nut-topped piece of candy went into her mouth. “I must run. See you later.” Charlie thought how lucky he was that he could fix just about everything around a house. He was on call all over the neighborhood. When the husbands couldn’t figure out how to make a repair, he was always available to help out. No money would he take, but he and Sunny were often asked out for dinner or in for a home-cooked meal. He had considered himself a happy and contented man. Three months ago all that had changed. Sunny had volunteered him when her friend Martha Jo had moved in down the street. Her house had needed lots of work after years of neglect. He had been to Martha Jo’s to work several times—at Sunny’s insistence, he reminded himself—and each time he became more aware of her presence. The third time, when he noticed how thin her T-shirt was, he had a hard time getting the kitchen sink to stop leaking. The sixth time, he was on the bathroom floor working on that leaking sink when she came into the bathroom in that thin white T-shirt. He was never quite sure how it happened, but after that day he had to allow some extra time at Martha Jo’s for his handyman duties. He was tired of the whole affair and didn’t want Sunny to suspect anything. Putting that poison in the candy was his only hope. Sunny wouldn’t touch chocolate-covered cherries but Martha Jo loved them. He hoped he wouldn’t be caught, but he couldn’t go on with Martha Jo another day. Charlie was on his way outdoors when Sunny passed him with another of his old undershirts. “I’m taking this to Martha Jo. Be back shortly.” Deciding he was in no hurry, Charlie sat down in the kitchen and was enjoying a Coke when the phone rang. “Charlie, get down here now. Martha Jo has fallen off the ladder and I don’t believe she’s breathing. Hurry! I don’t know what to do.” “Sunny, stay right there. I’m on my way.” Charlie took another drink of his Coke before rushing out. Sunny was crying and shaking when Charlie walked into Martha Jo’s living room. Martha Jo was lying near the fireplace, her body in a twisted position. The stepladder nearby was still standing. Charlie knelt beside her and felt of her heart and neck. “Sunny, I really don’t know about these things but I don’t believe she’s alive. Call 911 and tell them what’s happened.” As Sunny went into the kitchen to call, he quickly reached into the pocket of Martha Jo’s slacks and removed a tiny, balled-up piece of aluminum foil which he put into his mouth. He then examined Martha Jo’s mouth but could see no sign of any chocolate. Sunny came back into the room. “Charlie, the emergency men and the police are on their way. Oh, Charlie, this is so awful.” Charlie put his arm around Sunny and walked with her to the door. They could hear the sirens. Sunny was still shaking when the ambulance crew rushed in, the policemen close behind. They watched as two of the men began feeling for a pulse. One of them looked up, shaking his head. “We’ll get Doc over here right away. Looks like her neck is broken.” The policemen went into the kitchen with Sunny and Charlie. Sunny tearfully related the morning’s events. Afterward, when she had calmed a bit, she explained that Martha Jo had no relatives but had told her an envelope in the bedroom desk contained instructions in the event anything happened to her. Charlie felt a sudden wave of fear but offered to accompany the officer to the bedroom. Martha Jo’s bedroom was neat and clean but Charlie noticed the bedspread was still folded at the bottom of the bed. He hoped the officer didn’t notice the sudden flush of his face when he looked at the bed, but the policeman was interested only in the desk’s contents, which seemed to be made up of current bills, receipts, bits of newspaper articles and other miscellany. The envelope was at last found in the top drawer. When they had returned to the kitchen, Charlie asked the policeman if it was proper to open the envelope, as it was addressed to Esther “Sunny” Hale. Charlie offered to get identification papers for himself and Sunny. The policeman looked at him as though he thought he might have been watching too much TV, but told him to go ahead, that you couldn’t be too careful. Charlie started home, stopping to tell the neighbors standing around that Martha Jo had fallen off a ladder, that her neck appeared to be broken, and that he would give them all details as soon as the doctor got there and examined her. At home, he picked up his wallet from the bedside stand, found Sunny’s billfold in her purse on the chair, and then went into the bathroom, removed the small roll of foil from his mouth and watched as the flushing of the toilet took it completely out of his world. When he returned to Martha Jo’s, the doctor, who had been called away from his Saturday golf game and was in a hurry to get back to it, had already finished his examination and ruled it an accidental death. Sunny and the policemen were in the kitchen reading the documents left by Martha Jo, and the emergency men were awaiting instructions. One of the men stuck his head in the kitchen. “Sarge, what do you want us to do?” Sarge put down the letter he had been studying. “Looks like the lady wanted to be cremated. Sooner you can get her over to George’s, the better. I’ll call and tell him you’re on your way.” “Mrs. Hale,” Sarge said to Sunny, “since you appear to be in charge of all the arrangements, let me drive you over to George’s and we’ll get everything taken care of. I know you don’t feel like doing it, but it’s best to get it done right away.” “Charlie, you go on home,” Sunny told him. “I need to handle this matter now.” Sarge patted Charlie on the arm. “Looks like you and your wife will have a lot to do later, getting all this...