An Apple A Day Keeps Murder Away

By Janet McNulty

Rachel is back. And so is trouble. Mel wakes up covered in blood and with a knife in her hand. She has no memory of what happened. Rachel gets word about it in the spirit world and decides to help Mel out. Now the prime suspect in a murder investigation, it is up to Mel's friends to prove her innocence. But can a ghost get Mel off the hook and catch the real killer?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Janet McNulty
• Release date: Jul 17, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476070438

Janet McNulty

I began construction on Legends Lost Amborese ten years ago while in high school. At the time it was merely a few pages of notes in a notebook. I continued working on the story of Amborese while in college in the hope of publishing it. That day came in August 2011 when the book was first printed. Most recently, I have published the second book in Legends Lost: Tesnayr. I keep myself busy writing the third and final novel in the Legends Lost trilogy: Galdin, which will be released in Summer 2013. You can learn more here: www.legendslosttrilogy.com If you prefer something more contemporary try the Mellow Summers Series. Mellow Summers moves to Vermont to start a new life only to discover that she has a acquired a new ability: she can speak to ghosts. Join her as she is pulled from one mystery to another. I have also published in the area of nonfiction: Illogical Nonsense. I had never planned on writing nonfiction, but when I had the chance to write a political commentary book, I took it. I enjoyed it and hope that it is insightful to any who read it. Besides writing I also read, hike, and crochet. Sometimes I just wander around doing nothing at all. Every once in awhile a girl needs a break and these are great past times.

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Table of Contents

Title

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Thank you for reading...

Available Now in the Mellow Summers Series

About the Author

More by Janet McNulty

The Mellow Summers Series

The Dystopia Trilogy

The Legends Lost Series

Grandpa’s Stories

An Apple A Day Keeps Murder Away

Janet McNulty

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents wither are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or location is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

An Apple A Day Keeps Murder Away

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © 2012 Janet McNulty

Cover Illustration by Robert Henry

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

—For my friends who believe in ghosts.

Chapter 1

You would think that after solving a couple of mysteries with the help of a ghost, the next one would be easier. I couldn’t have been more wrong. Summer had arrived and I was relieved. No classes for three months. I had hoped to have a relaxing summer where my only responsibility was my job at the Candle Shoppe. By now, you have probably guessed what really happened. Three weeks after summer vacation began, everything turned upside down.

I woke up, my soaking wet clothes clinging to my body, with a knife in my hand. Groggily, I peered at it in the dark. Blood coated it. Panicking, I threw it away, allowing it to clatter against the wall, chipping away some of the grime coated paint. That was when I realized that it wasn’t water that soaked my clothes, but blood.

I hauled myself to my feet. Wobbling on my unsteady feet, I managed to make my way to a dresser. I had no idea where I was. I turned in the pith black room to move in another direction and bumped into a TV. My hands rubbed along everything as I felt my way around, searching for a light switch.

Found it. I flipped the switch and a single, soft light turned on. It illuminated the small room. A dresser and television set sat near me, which I used for support as my spinning head tried to force me back to the floor. Behind me was a bed and a night stand with a telephone on it, while a broken lamp lay on the carpeted floor.

It took a while, but I realized that I was in a motel room; a sleazy one at that. I looked at the blood on the floor. It suddenly occurred to me that I could be the one bleeding. A quick inspection revealed that I was fine as far as bleeding to death was concerned, but if it wasn’t my blood, then whose was it?

I shook my head. I felt all fogged up and my brain refused to concentrate. The room seemed to be moving before me no matter what I tried, and my stomach insisted on dancing around like it was a rollercoaster.

It occurred to me that I should call someone for help. I managed to make my way around the bed and to the phone on the nightstand. It was one of those rotary phone. I hadn’t seen one since I was last at my grandmother’s house.

I fumbled with the phone as I attempted to pick up the receiver and dial Jackie’s number—hers was the only one I could remember at the moment—but my fingers refused to work.

Before I had time to gather my thoughts and dial Jackie, the door burst open. Freeze! yelled the policeman, pointing his gun at me.

I obeyed, dropping the receiver as I raised my hands above my head, while the phone rang and jingled when it crashed to the floor.

Drop the knife, commanded the officer.

I glanced at my left hand. I still gripped the knife and never even realized it. I let it go. Who was I to argue with someone pointing a gun at me?

Look, officer, I started say; my raspy voice made me sound like a growling bear.

Silence, said the officer. Turn around and put your hands behind your back.

I did, suddenly aware that I could be shot at any moment. Slowly, I stood up and placed my hands behind my back as ordered and the cuffs snapped into place as the officer placed them tightly around my wrists.

The memory of being arrested while driving my car with Rachel flittered through my brain. I forced myself back into the present. Now was not a time for strolling down memory lane.

The officer steered me out of the room and into the warm night air. I didn’t need the warmth of summer to make me sweat. I was already sweating like crazy from all that was going on.

I spotted the police car easily with its flashing red and blue lights. Two more cars pulled up into the parking lot: one was another police cruiser and the second a plain station wagon. They parked next to the stationary one. I recognized Detective Shorts the moment he stepped out of the station wagon. From the looks of it, he appeared to have been hauled out of bed.

He spotted me and stopped short. I could only guess what he was thinking. Shaking his head, he walked up and put on his professional persona. All right, he said, tell me what happened.

The officer put me in his cruiser and shut the door. We received an anonymous call about a murder that took place here.

Where’s the body? asked Detective Shorts.

Haven’t found it, replied the uniformed officer.

You haven’t found it? The irritation in Detective Shorts’ voice was unmistakable.

There is no body, said the officer. I found her in there, holding a knife and a pool of blood on the floor.

Has she said anything?

Annoyance flared up in me at being talked about as though I wasn’t present.

No. Would you like to question her now?

No, answered Detective Shorts. Take her to the station. I’ll question her there.

The officer nodded and sat behind the wheel of the police cruiser I was in. He started the engine and the car lurched a bit as we pulled away. My queasiness became worse with each passing moment from the jerky movements of the vehicle and the stuffy interior. We hadn’t gone very far before I retched in the back seat. Mostly stomach acid came up. I tried to miss my feet, but as luck would have it, we hit a bump and my leg ended up covered in vomit. I glanced at the officer. His expression said it all. I had just ticked him off. Poor guy. He’d probably be the one cleaning it up.

Once at the station, I was allowed a trip to the bathroom to clean myself up. I did the best I could with a handful of paper towels and the frigid water from the tap. Having my wrists in handcuffs made it difficult. A female officer accompanied me the entire time, refusing to take her eyes off me. I guess she thought I might try to escape.

Though vomiting did help settle my stomach some, I still felt nauseous. I finished up my efforts to clean the bile from my leg, but the impatient coughing of the female officer told me that it was time to go. It wasn’t the best effort, but it would do.

The led me out of the bathroom and another police officer took me to a somewhat secluded area where I was given a drug and alcohol test. They took my fingerprints and mug shot. I guess you can say I was booked.

From there another officer took me to an interrogation room. I had no idea how long I waited in there. It felt like an eternity to me. I spent the time resting my head on the table, attempting to sleep and clear my head.

After a few hours had passed, Detective Shorts walked