Murder For Strings

By Valerie Bruce

Baker Street is a typical suburban street in a quiet neighborhood. The fact it has its own Dr. Watson and a female version of Sherlock Holmes is just a side note most of the time.
Five women who have affectionately termed themselves the Baker Street Broads meet weekly to discuss stories of the great detective and enjoy the company.
But things for the Broads get a little chaotic as their own version of Holmes is asked to consult on a murder case. The rest of the ladies are pulled in by degrees and realize that real life murder is nothing like it is in a book.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Valerie Bruce
• Release date: Nov 11, 2011
• ISBN: 9781465931313

Book preview

Murder For Strings

By Valerie Bruce

Smashwords edition Valerie Bruce ©11/2010

Dedicated to all of the amazing people who inspired, cajoled, pushed and threatened so I could get this finished.

The boys, you know who you are and why you’re here.

My sisters by choice rather than chance, see above dedication.

The fierce and fabulous women of Assassins Anonymous. Especially my editor and chief beta reader, Gretel. Thank you for everything.

My favorite sometimes co-author and general partner in crime, Taz.

Last but certainly not least, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle for Holmes and Watson. Huzzah, good sir, and thank you for a truly marvelous duo.

Prologue

He looked down at the slack body with a smile and then carefully unwound the implement of death and put it back into its rightful position. He was far too clever to ever be caught. Honestly, what police officer would ever suspect him? Better still, they’d never suspect him of keeping the murder weapon literally in hand.

***

I know how it all began right enough. It began when Emma moved just down the street from me. I have the distinction of living at an interesting address of sorts because my husband and I originally bought the house as a bit of a lark. 221 Baker Street. It isn’t apartment B, sadly. However, it is very close to the famous address of the world’s greatest detective. It was enough to pique her interest for the same reason it had piqued mine. We are, by no means, experts in the field of Holmes. Some people are inclined to spend years of their lives researching, discussing and debating his methods and mannerisms down to the smallest detail. We aren’t that fancy. We simply enjoy the stories and a good debate.

But perhaps I am getting ahead of myself and of you, dear reader. I’m Lori Watson, Doctor Watson no less. Yet another source of amusement. I am the secretary of sorts to a very interesting little group of women affectionately called the Baker Street Broads. Baker Street Babes was originally suggested but we all thought that was just silly considering the age range is thirty five and above. It also amused us because the Broads in our title is horribly politically incorrect. For the most part, none of us are concerned with political correctness at any rate. We started with just Emma and myself, being the Holmes fans we are and considering my address, we naturally gravitated toward one another. Again, the reason I reside where I do is purely due to whim on my husband’s part. Trust me; he is usually far from being a whimsical person considering he’s a banker. Contrary to popular belief they actually do have a sense of humor. It’s just hard to find some days for the vast majority of them.

There are five official members of the Baker Street Broads, occasional pop ups of various children and spouses notwithstanding. Emma’s daughter, Catherine or just Cat, being the most frequent visitor to our little group when she’s back home from college. But I digress. I suppose I should be getting on with the introductions of the ladies in the group.

Emma Nightroad is a former police officer and criminal psychologist turned science fiction writer of all things. She always remarks that she makes infinitely more money writing complete fiction than dealing with the truth of human nature, which is vastly stranger than any work of fiction could ever be. As I understand it she left the police force due to constant harassment by one of her superior officers. According to Cat, her parting words were, I am terribly sorry the fact I don’t have a penis and still possess a brain threatens you. However, considering the overcompensating vehicle I usually see parked in your spot, it leads me to pity the fact you don’t have one of either. I’m never certain whether to laugh at the audacity of the statement or cry because it was necessary for her to utter it. She often remarks that Holmes would have been bored positively silly at the vast majority of crimes committed in the modern world. Basic shooting, stabbing for lust, anger and greed. There were rarely deviations according to her. I suppose she would be in the position to know about these things. I have often thought that if Holmes had ever truly existed, Emma would have been his reincarnation. She is sharp, completely logical, can tell you what you had for dinner last night simply due to how your house smells the next day. I’m very pleased to be her friend because under no circumstances would I ever want to be an enemy.

Caitlyn or simply Cait, Weatherby-Stiles came along a year or so after Emma and I had begun our little impromptu discussion group. Cait is sandy blond, green eyes and a little rounder in the middle than she is entirely happy being. (Aren’t we all?) An elementary teacher by trade, Cait has . . . interesting theories sometimes. Most of them in direct contrast to anything Emma comes up with. I think she does it on purpose most days to try aggravating Emma. That is a tactic that usually works, oddly enough. However, there is a good hearted nature to her that one can never overlook. She does seem to be more than a little naïve when it comes to how the real world works. It tends to be a good balance for Emma’s cynical view of life in general most times though. She is often inquisitive, sometimes in places where she shouldn’t be. Quite simply put, Cait has an almost insatiable curiosity concerning nearly everything she comes across. The running question is what will Cait be an expert in this month. It tends to happen frequently because she gets bored easily.

Crystal Hartwell arrived perhaps a month after Cait did to our little group. Crystal is possibly the most conventionally glamorous of our bunch. Naturally blonde with blue eyes and dresses well when she isn’t in scrubs. Mind you, she’s usually in scrubs. She’s a respiratory therapist and mother of a very precocious ten year old daughter, Isabella. She is easily the most relaxed member of the bunch and has a quirky sense of humor. She tends to be amused easily, though she worries constantly about having enough money, as every single parent can attest to. We were the support system for her when she and her husband parted ways. In fact, it was Emma who called in favors at the police branch and at the DA’s office to get criminal charges filed against him for domestic abuse and child endangerment. But that’s another story completely.

The last person to join us was Amy Trezetti. If her last name did not give away her heritage her olive skin, dark hair and eyes would. She teaches anthropology at the local college and went back to school herself for a degree in archeology. She moved down here because, according to her, the cost of living was cheaper, the pay was better in contrast to that and she enjoyed the area. We found out a bit later that she also moved because there was the nasty rumor going around where she previously lived that her family was Family. That seemed to have caused a myriad of problems for her. Even if the rumors were true in this case. Not like any of us care one way or the other about it. She has a wry, kind of dry sense of humor.

Overall, it is an interesting little group of people that comes together every few days to discuss life in general and things going around in the public eye specifically. It became a sort of game early on to see which cases in the news Holmes would have taken and which he would have rejected. Sadly, as mentioned earlier, there seemed to be little that would have piqued the great detective’s interest in the slightest. Until that odd and fateful morning.

Chapter 1

It was seven in the morning on a Wednesday when there was a quiet rapping on the back door leading to the kitchen. My husband, son and I were in the breakfast nook getting ready for our various tasks of the day. My husband, Drew looked up from the stock reports to see who it was.

It’s the teacher, he said, going back to the paper and reaching for his coffee.

Which one? I asked, wanting to thump him for both the reference and for not answering the door.

The mousy one, he replied before taking a drink and somehow shuffling the paper to the sports section. I’ll never understand the males of our species and the need to watch, listen to or read about, other men sweating, grunting and being physically harmed. Not to mention making entirely too much money while doing it.

That’s not nice, Drew, I protested.

He shrugged. I tend to call things as I see them, sweetheart.

I really wanted to thump him then but got up and opened the door. Cait was practically bouncing on her toes in barely contained excitement.

Well? I prompted, wanting her to get to the point. I had a full roster of patients to see this morning. Flu season was coming on and there seemed to be a million and one little ones needing shots at that point. Which they were usually decidedly unhappy about and informed everyone in the general vicinity.

There’s been a murder, she said, almost clapping her hands in glee. I thought I should be at least a little bit worried about the fact she seemed so happy about it.

Here? I asked. I know I had to have sounded somewhat incredulous considering this is a small town and there just isn’t much crime that goes on around here.

Almost. One town over actually, she said. It will interest Emma at very least.

My eyebrows lifted. Very few mundane crimes interested Emma at this point unless they were of the fiction, sci-fi variety. What makes you say that?

Unusual circumstances. She glanced at her watch and almost squeaked. I have to run or I’ll be late for class. Meet back here at five?

I shrugged. Sure.

Call in the troops, this one could be something Holmes would have liked, she said, waving over one shoulder as she all but sprinted across my back yard.

I heartily doubted that but who was I to ruin her fun for the morning. Drew looked at me expectantly when I came back into the breakfast nook. He was completely used to