Summer Reading is Killing Me

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER ONE

I love summer and how the air ripples as waves of heat rise from the asphalt. The warm summer breezes sway the large trees surrounding the lake. I love the buzz of the bees as they zip from flower to flower. One of the best things about summer is cruising down the road in my 1968 VW bus, Velma with the windows down, the wind tangling my strawberry curls and my favorite music playing on the radio. My summer love died when I discovered a dead body in Longfellow Park. Too bad I left my Super Librarian costume hanging in the closet that day.

Just after dawn, I was unloading tables for the Miller’s Cove Founder’s Day Celebration. The town library holds an annual book sale during the festivities to raise money for the children’s party at the end of summer reading. I planned to meet Wade, my library clerk and general dogsbody, at eight to unpack the books. Unable to sleep, I decided to set up tables and hang our banner by myself before picking up Wade. Clint was at the state police headquarters in Burlington for the next few days for training, and I was keeping his Jack Russell Terrier, Watson. I was busy hauling things to our designated spot when I heard frantic barking. I spotted Watson growling at something in the grass under the large oak tree.

“ Watson! Come here, boy!” I whistled. He looked up but kept barking. With a sigh, I jogged over to shush him before he woke up the whole neighborhood. As I came nearer, I stopped. A young woman was asleep and oblivious to the little dog nipping at her feet. I bent to wake her and saw a splash of rust red across her shirt and a silver-handled paintbrush buried in her chest. Scattered on the ground next to her was a canvas, an easel and some tubes of paint with bright colors oozing out the open ends.

“ Oh crud!” I said aloud. Watson lunged forward with a snarl and tugged at the bottom of the woman’s jeans. “No, Watson! Come here!” I picked him up and carried his wriggling body to Velma. I pulled my cell phone out of my bag and called the sheriff.

“ Miller’s Cove Sheriff’s Department. What’s your emergency?” A nasal voice answered. It was Tina, the gum-smacking, fingernail-polishing receptionist who aspired to be a cop one day as long as the uniform didn’t make her thighs appear fat.

“ Tina, it’s Ophelia Jefferson. I’m over at Longfellow Park and I found a girl dead. Someone murdered her.”

“ What? A dead body? Murdered? Are you sure?”

“ Yes, I’m sure!” I snapped. “Can you send a deputy right away?” I shouldn’t be surprised Tina doubted me. There hadn’t been a murder in Miller’s Cove in over one hundred years. It all changed when my friend Grant’s mom, Shari Davis, lost her grip on reality and murdered three people last year. If Clint hadn’t charged in and rescued me, I would have been next. A scar above my left eyebrow served as a reminder of my ordeal. It gave me a slightly impish quality with a hint of danger. A James Bond meets Jane Austen flair.

“ Mark’s on duty this morning. I guarantee he’s over at Nellie Jo’s having a cup of coffee and a doughnut. I’ll call and send him right over,” Tina said.

“ I’m not going anywhere,” I said and disconnected. I heaved a sigh and loaded the tables back into Velma. My gut feeling was the Founder’s Day Celebration would be canceled.