Killer Words
Praise for V. M. Burns and her Mystery Bookshop Mysteries!
A TOURIST’S GUIDE TO MURDER
“Colorful characters and just enough mystery trivia boost the fast-moving plot. Cozy fans are sure to have fun.”
—Publishers Weekly
BOOKMARKED FOR MURDER
“This two-in-one mystery satisfies on so many levels, with this fifth
in the series being as fresh and unique as the first.”
—Kings River Life Magazine
“In the end, Bookmarked for Murder is a fantastic bookstore cozy murder book, and the ‘Mystery Bookshop’ series is an enthralling read that makes me smile and has me hoping my retirement will be just like Nana Jo’s and the other characters’. This book is beyond entertaining. It’s a page-turner that is filled with remarkable characters that have readers coming back for more.”
—The Cozy Review
READ HERRING HUNT
“As good as any Jessica Fletcher story could be, Burns has a way with words and her characters are absolutely riveting. There is no doubt this is one series that will continue for a good, long time to come.”
—Suspense Magazine
THE PLOT IS MURDER
“This debut cleverly integrates a historical cozy within a contemporary mystery. In both story lines, the elder characters shine; they are refreshingly witty and robust, with formidable connections and investigative skills.”
—Library Journal (starred review)
“The Plot Is Murder is a great addition to the ranks of cozy mysteries.
Samantha Washington is a savvy and sympathetic sleuth and her crime-busting senior citizen posse all but steal the show. Two parallel plots make this book-within-a-book twice as much fun. I hope this debut mystery is the start of a long series to come.”
—Laurien Berenson, author of Pup Fiction
“You’ll love this delightful debut mystery with its charming and wacky cast of characters and a mystery within a mystery just to keep things interesting.”
—Victoria Thompson, New York Times best-selling author
“A charming read—with murder, romance and lots of mouthwatering desserts.”
—Laura Levine, author of Murder Gets a Makeover
Books by V. M. Burns
Mystery Bookshop Mysteries
THE PLOT IS MURDER
READ HERRING HUNT
THE NOVEL ART OF MURDER
WED, READ & DEAD
BOOKMARKED FOR MURDER
A TOURIST’S GUIDE TO MURDER
KILLER WORDS
Dog Club Mysteries
IN THE DOG HOUSE
THE PUPPY WHO KNEW TOO MUCH
BARK IF IT’S MURDER
PAW AND ORDER
SIT, STAY, SLAY
Published by Kensington Publishing Corp.
Killer Words
V. M. BURNS
www.kensingtonbooks.com
All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.
Table of Contents
Praise
Also by
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
KENSINGTON BOOKS are published by
Kensington Publishing Corp.
119 West 40th Street
New York, NY 10018
Copyright © 2021 by Valerie Burns
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
To the extent that the image or images on the cover of this book depict a person or persons, such person or persons are merely models, and are not intended to portray any character or characters featured in the book.
The K logo is a trademark of Kensington Publishing Corp.
ISBN: 978-1-4967-2897-5
To Coco and Cash aka Snickers and Oreo
Thanks for the warm hugs, kisses, and many laughs
Acknowledgments
It took a village to get this book from idea to finished product, and I have been so fortunate to have a great village. Thanks to Dawn Dowdle, Blue Ridge Literary Agency, freelance editor, Michael Dell, Bev Cotton, graphic designer extraordinaire, virtual assistant Kelly Fowler, and Cassandra Morgan at CMBS Global. Thanks to Memphis retired policeman and author Ernie Lancaster for the crash course in ballistics. Big thanks to Abby Vandiver for the legal help and for putting on your sergeant’s cap and pushing me to write when I didn’t feel like it. And thanks to Alexia Gordon and Cheyney McWilliams for the medical advice. And thanks to all of the wonderful people at Kensington who have believed in me and supported my dreams: John Scognamiglio, Michelle Addo, and Larissa Ackerman.
Thank you to my Seton Hill University family, my tribe (Michelle, Patricia, Anna, Matt, Alex, Jeff, Gina, Jessica, Penny, Crystal, Kenya, Lana, Tyler), the Barnyardians (Tim, Chuck, Lindsey, Jill, Kristie, Sandy), my awesome team (Amber, Derrick, Eric, Carol, Lacy, and Jordan), and the best training team ever (Tena, Grace, Deborah, Jamie).
Shout out to Crime Writers of Color, Sisters in Crime, Angel White at Certified Book Nerd, Dru Ann Love, Colleen Finn, Kings River Life, Debry Jo Berkshire, Karen Kenyon, Lori Caswell at Dollycas, and all of the wonderful reviewers, book bloggers, and librarians who dedicate their time, effort and energy to helping authors. I appreciate all of the kind words, support, and for all you do to promote books.
I would not be able to do what I do without the love and support of my family, who have endured long conversations about fictional characters, murder, and poisons without complaint. . . well, without many complaints. Even when you just held the phone and let me babble, I appreciated it. Thanks to my dad, Benjamin, Jacquelyn, Christopher (Carson, Cameron, and Crosby) Rucker, and Jillian (Drew and Marcella) Merkel. As always, special thanks to my two partners in crime, Sophia and Shelitha. This would not have been possible without you two, and for that I will be eternally grateful.
Chapter 1
“Bow chicka wow wow!” Nana Jo fanned herself with the newspaper she was reading. “This is some steamy stuff.”
I cornered the dust bunny I’d been chasing with my broom for the last few minutes, swept it into my dustpan, and dumped it into the trash. Feeling like I’d just conquered Mount Everest, I strutted over to the seat where my grandmother was sitting and glanced over her shoulder. “What are you reading?”
“An article about the North Harbor Police Department. According to this, North Harbor is not only a hotbed of crime and vice, but the police department is in bed with the criminals.” She turned around to look at me. “Literally, in bed with the criminals.”
I read a paragraph and found myself gasping. “Who knew all of this criminal activity was going on in sleepy little North Harbor, Michigan?”
Nana Jo pointed toward an empty
chair across from her. “Take a seat. I’m just about done with this page.”
I glanced around the empty bookstore and realized I wouldn’t be missed if I took a short break. I went to the counter and poured myself a cup of tea. I grabbed a plate of peanut butter cookies, placed the plate in the center of the small bistro table, and sat across from my grandmother.
She passed me the front page of the North Harbor Herald. Our local newspaper wasn’t much bigger than the Sunday morning comics in big-city newspapers, but for a town of fifteen thousand, it was standard. I was so shocked by what I read that I found myself rereading it, so it took much longer than it should have.
“Close your mouth,” Nana Jo said. “You’re going to catch flies.”
I hadn’t even realized my mouth was open. “I can’t believe what I’m reading.”
“Shocking, isn’t it?”
“It’s not just the allegations of corruption and misconduct that are being presented; it’s the allegations that aren’t supported by facts. There’s absolutely no evidence presented. These are . . . allegations and salacious innuendo that have been printed in black and white. It’s . . .”
“The shoddy journalism you’d expect from supermarket rags, but not from a legitimate newspaper.”
“Exactly.”
“North Harbor’s a small town, and the Herald is a small newspaper, but in the past, the writing was always very good and supported by evidence.” Nana Jo pointed to the page she’d just finished reading. “Just take a look at all of that. I mean really, it’s almost as though a grade schooler wrote it.”
As a former high school English teacher, I noticed every misspelled word, misplaced comma, and dangling participle. “I noticed. I’ve tried to turn off my inner editor so I can read and enjoy books. Now that I have my first book published, I’m nervous about that.”
Nana Jo patted my hand. “No need to stress about it. It’s impossible to prevent some minor issues, but there’s no way your books will have this many problems. I mean, there’s one place where an entire sentence is missing.”
I glanced over at the section she pointed to and cringed. There definitely seemed to be something missing. We spent a few minutes pondering what it could be until the bell on the front door chimed. I started to rise, but Nana Jo waved me down.
“You finish reading. I’ll take care of the customer.” She headed toward the front of the store.
I couldn’t help but smile and say a quick prayer of thanks for my family’s support. When my late husband, Leon, and I talked about our dream to open a bookstore that specialized in mysteries, I never thought the dream would actually come true or that when it did he wouldn’t be here with me. However, it was Leon’s death that gave me the push I needed to take a leap of faith, quit my job, sell my house, and buy a building. Opening a mystery bookshop was hard work, but I was blessed to have my mystery-loving grandmother helping most weekdays. When Nana Jo wasn’t here, my nephews, Christopher and Zaq, were usually ready to earn extra pocket money. I’ve also become friends with some amazing students at Michigan Southwest University, MISU, what the locals referred to as Miss You, including my former high school student and local football hero Dawson Alexander, his girlfriend, Jillian Clark, and Zaq’s girlfriend, Emma Lee.
I glanced up and saw my grandmother, who was nearly six feet tall and well over two hundred pounds, towering over a petite man who came into the store about once a week. He was fond of both psychological thrillers and culinary cozies. It seemed like an unusual combination, but when Nana Jo asked him about it, he said that he loved the heart-racing drama of the thrillers but also loved to cook and had found some great recipes in cozies. That was one of the things that I loved about crime fiction: there was something for everyone.
I glanced around at my store’s bookshelves, which held everything related to crime fiction. I sold true-crime novels, like In Cold Blood by Truman Capote. Even though the book was first published in 1966, it was still very popular. I also carried noir fiction by authors like Raymond Chandler that tended to be darker. There was a substantial section of my personal favorites, cozy mysteries by Agatha Christie, Victoria Thompson, and Emily Brightwell. Filling shelves with my favorite books was just one of the perks of owning my own bookstore.
Nana Jo was extolling the virtues of Leslie Budewitz’s Food Lovers’ Village mystery series. As the person who first got me hooked on mysteries, Nana Jo was knowledgeable, and had a knack of helping customers find the right type of mystery. I watched as she sold the first two Food Lovers’ Village Mysteries, along with thrillers by Tracy Clark and John Balducci. Nana Jo was a great salesperson, and my petite mystery lover walked out with a big bag and an even bigger smile.
Nana Jo came back and flopped into the chair she had recently vacated.
“Are you tired?” I said. “Things are really slow, and I can certainly handle—”
She waved away my protest. “I’m not tired . . . not exactly. I just feel . . . bored.”
“I know exactly how you feel. Ever since we returned from England, I’ve been feeling the same way. I know every day isn’t a mad dash tour across England, but . . . things in North Harbor have been incredibly dull.”
“It’s not just touring England but solving two murders. Don’t forget that. We solved two murders and helped put a dangerous criminal behind bars.”
“I know, but that was just a fluke.”
“Fluke? Samantha, you have a knack for solving murders. England wasn’t the first time you’ve hunted down a murderer.”
“I’d hardly call what we’ve done hunting down murderers.” I sighed. “But I have to admit it was exciting to know that we helped piece the clues together and assisted the police to figure out whodunit and make sure that justice was carried out. Although that last time was a bit more excitement than I would have liked. I mean, we could have been killed.”
“Pish posh. We had everything well in hand. Detective Sergeant Templeton just came in at the end and took all of the credit, but it was you, me, and the girls who got to the bottom of that one.”
I smiled. My grandmother was biased, but we had played a major role in the case. “Don’t forget Hannah Schneider.”
“Hannah was invaluable. I just wish she lived here rather than in England. She would fit in well at Shady Acres.”
Shady Acres was the retirement village where my grandmother and her friends lived. Although Nana Jo spent several days of each week with me, she had her own house at Shady Acres. It was an active facility for senior citizens that offered surfing, cooking, martial arts, and a host of other classes that Nana Jo and her friends took, and it was where they lived. “I think she’s going to come for a visit in a few months. She said she wanted to visit her cousin in New Zealand, but she hoped it wouldn’t be long.”
“That’ll be awesome.”
“You’re right. I love my bookshop, but it can be rather dull, especially after England, and I’ll admit, I’ve been struggling.”
She reached over and patted my hand. “Well, we just need another murder to stimulate your little gray cells.”
“Nana Jo, we should not be hoping for a murder. That’s awful.”
“You know what I mean. Maybe we just need a little excitement.”
“I know what you mean, but I think it would be best if I focus on solving the mysteries in the pages of my book.”
“How’s the editing going?”
“Slowly. I’ve looked at this manuscript so many times my eyes are crossed. I think after a while my brain just sees what it wants to see. I’m so afraid I’ll miss something and it’ll be just as bad as that article in the Herald.”
“You’d have to work hard to make that many errors. Maybe you need to take a break. Let’s go to the casino.” She smiled. “Unless, of course, you and Frank have plans.”
I tried to avoid smiling, but my mouth had a mind of its own when it came to talking about my boyfriend, Frank Patterson. It still seemed alien for me to have a boyfriend. Leon an
d I were married for more than thirteen years. When he died, I didn’t think I’d ever want to be involved in another relationship. However, Frank helped me realize that my heart didn’t die with Leon. Leon died, but my heart kept beating, and eventually I realized there was room for someone else. “It’s Friday night, the busiest night at the restaurant. So, Frank and I aren’t going anywhere.”
“Great.” Nana Jo whipped out her cell phone. “I kind of thought you might be free, so I told the girls you’d pick them up around seven thirty.”
Despite a steady stream of customers, the time dragged. Normally, I enjoyed a slow, easy pace; however, today I just couldn’t get into the groove. When the last customer left, I locked the door and took a few minutes to clean and get ready for tomorrow. When I was tired, sweeping, dusting, and restocking the shelves was harder. But getting to sleep an extra thirty minutes in the morning was well worth pushing through any fatigue I felt at night. Walking through the aisles, I admired the brightly colored books that lined the shelves. I inhaled the woody, citrus aroma of the wood cleaner I used on my bookshelves and smiled. It was a familiar scent that wrapped around me like a warm blanket.
“You going to keep sniffing that polish with that goofy look on your face all night?”
Nana Jo snapped me back to reality. I finished dusting while she swept. Before long, everything was ready for our next day.