Whips, Cuffs, and Little Brown Boxes: A Lilly M. Mystery

By Kathryn Long

"Some days I hated my life. Turning forty, pre-menopausal migraines, single, gaining ten pounds in six months, not to mention having three, sometimes overbearing mothers, and an editor with no compassion.

On the other hand, I had Kline, sort of, and there was my career, or what was left of it. I had a dog that idolized me, even if no one else did, and a house of my own. Those pluses should sustain me through my crises. So now, I would go home and write. It's what I do." -- Lilly Millenovanovich

Aunt Fran is missing. Those words echoed throughout the town, worrying family and friends. So, Lilly Millenovanovich, a mystery writer, decides to help the authorities find her aunt. The Barton police have very few leads and Lilly is between novels with time on her hands. Her search becomes a hazardous journey in Whips, Cuffs, and Little Brown Boxes. Thrown into awkward situations is familiar to Lilly Millenovanovich, like hiding in a stranger’s bedroom closet and discovering a naked man cuffed to the bed. Though events sometimes turn dangerous Lilly continues her sleuthing and recruits Mona, her cousin and best friend, to assist in the search.

Complications erupt, making their quest almost impossible. A chain of store robberies, the unusual behavior of Aunt Fran’s husband, and death threats from the mob are just a few. No matter where the search takes them, Lilly sees one common element – Ron Kinecki, known by women in town as Slick Dick Ron. He’s the owner of Repo Ron’s Used Cars, but might be selling more than automobiles.

As luck would have it, not all eyes watching Lilly intend harm. Her eccentric neighbor, Kooky Colonel Crockett, proves to be a helpful witness as he stands guard over the neighborhood. Aunt Sadie, the bold matriarch of Lilly’s family, who may tip the bottle once too often, executes strong will and bold opinions to keep Lilly on a straight path. Even an anonymous emailer feeds Lilly clues.

Before it’s over, Lilly must face more trouble than she can manage alone. Still, with friends and family to lend their support, everything turns out well in the end. Certainly, it doesn’t happen without a murder or two, but then all is back to normal. At least until the next mystery hits town.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kathryn Long
• Release date: Jun 4, 2011
• ISBN: 9781458119957

Kathryn Long

Kathryn Long is a native Ohioan, born and raised in Barberton, the "Magic City". She is the youngest of five children, although the closest sibling in age is a brother sixteen years her senior. Being raised like an only child, Kathryn found reading and writing as favorable forms of entertainment. In high school as a member of the Writers' Club, she continued to nurture her writing talent.After high school Kathryn attended and graduated from the University of Akron with a BA degree in French. Before marriage and children the author managed a Waldenbooks store and continue writing short stories and song lyrics as a hobby. In 1987 she returned to school for a Bachelor's in Education. She has been an employee of the Green Local School system since 1990 and currently teaches SLD students at the high school.Writing took a more serious turn a few years ago as Kathryn completed her first novel-length work and discovered that mystery was her nitch. Early on, determined to improve her craft, she developed a habit of spending most of her free time in the summer and on weekends during the school year, writing story after story. Mystery merged with the color of Native American culture to create Oklahoma's Gold and A Pleasant View. Venturing into cozy mysteries and romantic suspense writing, Kathryn has created three novels with the cozy, Whips, Cuffs, and Little Brown Boxes; a romantic suspense, A Deadly Deed Grows; and the recently completed, Dying to Dream, another romantic suspense.Kathryn has also written short stories, two of which are published in The Piker Press: "A Good Man" and "Betrayal in a Letter". She also has ventured into the young adult genre, writing the modern-day fairytale, Cinderella Geek, under the pen name, K. Sean Jennkrist.Keeping connected is an important element of writing. Staying in tune with what goes on in the writing world and being visible are reasons why Kathryn is a member of Sisters in Crime and maintains a blogsite - Writers & Teachers as well as a facebook page.

Book preview

Prologue

June 18th, 8:30 am:

Fran read the email and thought how it didn't make sense.

Your merchandise will arrive Friday. Pack it, ready for delivery trucks to pick up Saturday at midnight. Our New York associate expects shipment no later than Monday morning.

And this time, don't mix it up. Last week, Toys Club R-Us received a box full of pillows filled with nothing but feathers! One more thing … Make sure you deliver the video to our friendly store owner. We don't want him having second thoughts.

Fran leaned closer to the screen and read it again, only out loud, and then shook her head. Sure enough, it was addressed to her, nobody else. What was she to think? It smelled and tasted like monkey business. That much she could guess. And most puzzling, she knew the sender. Yes, it was very strange. Why she would get such…

Fran! Hey, Fran! Where's breakfast? It's already past eight, you know. Mike shuffled across the living room floor. His robe sagged across his chest, half open with the sides hanging unevenly. One hand reached up to scratch his stomach. I'm starving.

Fran clicked the email window closed at the sound of his whining chatter. You're always starving. What's the matter with you? You can't wait five more minutes? Give me five more minutes. She glanced back at Mike and frowned. And go comb your hair. You look like a porcupine with it sticking out all over like that. Geesh.

When the foot shuffle grew faint, Fran turned back to the computer and brought the email back into view. She pressed the print button and waited until the sheet of paper moved into the tray. Another click and the email disappeared.

Fran smiled. The plan began sprouting details in her mind. It was devious, and it was risky, but well worth it. Besides, she figured nobody should get away with whatever this was, because it didn't sound legal. After turning off the computer, she picked up the phone and made the call.

She held a handkerchief tightly over the receiver while waiting for someone to answer. Her heart pounded louder and faster. At the sound of the click and a hello, her lips brushed against the cloth scented with Vicks VapoRub as she whispered.

I know what dirty business you're into, and I think we should talk. Soon.

Chapter 1

June 20, 8:00 am:

Quiet, relaxing, a day free from interruption. Just me and my writing. That was the plan. Speeding car chases, crazed fans, and missing relatives were not. But then of course I got the call. Sergeant Galko had finally agreed to my interview if I agreed to a ride-along. So, at eight-fifteen his cruiser pulled into my drive and we headed into downtown Barton.

He started in with a story about yesterday's arrest. It seems a local drunk, Victor Tosavich, decided to rob a liquor store, wearing only a Donald Duck mask and brandishing an empty gun at the cashier. When the police arrived, they couldn't decide whether to cuff Victor or take pictures. Donald Duck with no clothes would make a great conversation piece on poker night, Galko said.

When a vintage black caddy in front of us started to weave back and forth, Galko stopped in mid-sentence and threw out a few choice expletives. I uttered a couple of my own and gripped the door handle as Galko turned on the siren. My head jerked back as the cruiser accelerated and tailed the caddy through the south side neighborhoods of Barton.

The caddy's driver must have decided it was time to lose us when he shot across two lanes of oncoming traffic to turn down a back alley.

Galko swerved to follow and we rounded the corner on two wheels with me squealing to slow down, or else. I'm not sure what or else meant, but when I agreed to the ride-along I hadn't envisioned anything quite this exciting.

In my side mirror I could see the flashing red of two other cruisers following at a close distance. It was about then when Galko slammed on the brakes and my head hit the dash.

Jesus Pete, what the hell? Galko shouted out the window. He reached over to open the door, and as if I was an afterthought, he turned to me and ordered, Stay put.

I didn't plan on doing anything else. Through my window I could see the caddy had a crumpled hood from its collision with a dumpster situated across from the rear exit of Miller Appliances. For some odd reason it had been rolled out into the middle of the alley, and Miller's door stood ajar.

As Galko approached, the trunk popped open like a jack-in-a-box. I watched him peek inside before he moved on to the driver's window. It seemed his conversation with the driver wasn't to Galko's liking. He pulled out his revolver and shouted. The driver, a short, balding man wearing a plaid suit, opened the door, coming out with arms held high. At Galko's orders, he turned and leaned over the car. A couple of buttons popped and I think I heard him shout at Galko about owing him a new suit.

This beat a phone interview any day. I started to rummage through my bag to find my phone and maybe get a couple pictures to add to my collection. Pounding on the window brought my attention around to see a woman dressed in jogging clothes. She scowled at me with her closed fists shaking.

Stop him! He's got my boyfriend, she said and then pounded a lot harder. And my mother!

Mother? A quick glance at the caddy showed no one else inside or out. I frowned at the jogger and wondered if she might be crazy. Ignoring all the pounding and yelling, I concentrated instead on the police bust in front of me.

Galko was now joined by two other officers. They seemed to be having a moment, laughing and pointing at a box that now rested on the road. I wanted to get out of the cruiser and see what all the entertainment was about, but Galko's order played back in my head, and I hoped to avoid the enraged jogger having her own moment outside my window.

My phone rang while I debated what to do. A quick glance at the screen identified Irene, one of my three mothers—it's a long story—so of course I answered, rather loudly, Hi, Mom.

Why are you yelling? I'm not deaf, you know, she said.

I plugged my free ear with my finger. What? What did you say?

Why are you yelling, for Christmas sake? she shouted.

I pulled the phone away several inches from my ear and then turned to glare at the jogger who now had her face smashed against my window. I'll call you back in a minute, I said and reached for the handle to open the door with some well-intended force. The door hit Jogger Lady and sent her flying backward into the guardrail with a thud. Maybe too much force, I thought and waited while holding my breath. I relaxed when I heard a moan.

Millenovanovich! You want a story? Come over and see what's in the box, Galko hollered from across the alley, before he started laughing once more.

I glanced back and forth from the jogger to the box, and finally hurried my steps over to the rear of the caddy, but the swishing sound I heard from behind made me pause and turn.

What now? I said.

"That's my boyfriend and my mother, she argued, rubbing her rear with one hand, and then added, Say. Aren't you that author? The one with the funny name? I read one of your books. Crime in a Box, I think it was. Boy, did it stink."

I rolled my eyes and resumed my trek to the trunk. From what I could tell, the box wasn't very large. It looked like it had taken a bit of a beating riding around in the caddy. The edges were scraped and dented. Remnants of pink ribbon stuck to the sides.

When I reached within a couple of feet of Galko and the box, I felt a sharp jab in my side and fell to the ground.

"Get out of my way. I'm Clarissa Jones and that's my mother, I told you. Nobody's gonna mess with her except me."

Whoa, now just you wait. Nobody is messing with anything unless I say so, lady. Who the hell are you, anyway? Galko grabbed the jogger's arm. Are you okay, M? This here a friend of yours?

I shook my head and picked myself up slowly, feeling for any broken parts. She claims this guy's her boyfriend. And … is there somebody else in the car? She keeps going on about her mother.

Galko smiled and gave a quick glance at the other two officers. Before he could answer, Clarissa Jones gave another one of her sharp jabs straight into Galko's stomach and then pulled her arm free. She reached down and grabbed the box, cradling it in her arms.

Don't worry, Mama. Nobody's gonna hurt you, she said.

It only took a few seconds to put it together, but when I did, the phone started ringing again. Irene. Hi, Mom. Look I don't have time to talk right now. I'm on a ride with Sergeant Galko … Yes. Lorraine Galko's grandson … anyway, we're in the middle of an arrest … No, Mom. I'm fine. Nobody's hurt. Nobody's dying. Well, except for Clarissa Jones' dead mother, but she's in a box, so that doesn't count … No, Mom. Not related to Maude Jones. Maude Jones doesn't have any relatives around here. Remember? … I'll call you back after I get home. Okay? I could see Galko giving me that look. I'd seen it before. He wanted me to either end the call, or I could walk home.

Of course, I didn't end the call. Not after I heard Irene's next words. No amount of police drama could top this. Not even the news—which I would learn later—about how Clarissa Jones didn't have the heart to go anywhere without her mother, so she carried the box filled with her ashes around in the trunk of her boyfriend's car. No. Irene's announcement was much more important than that because this was about family. This was about my aunt Fran. And she was missing.

Chapter 2

June 20, 11:00 am:

My name is Lilly Millenovanovich, but most call me Lilly M for obvious reasons. I consider my life pretty ordinary, although my family might argue the point. To them being forty and single is not normal. And the tiny little fact that I have this weird talent seems to sway their opinion. It's nothing great, really. I mean, so what if I can figure out what someone is thinking? Is that so strange? Lots of people have ESP. If that's what it really is. Honestly, I just think I'm good at knowing people and figuring out situations. I'm very observant that way. Irene calls it being nosey.

It doesn't happen all that often, and some of the time it's like scrambled radar, which really complicates matters. Psychic power with bad hearing. It can be annoying, and I've tried to stop it. All those thoughts and images clutter my brain and give me major migraines.    

After hearing Irene's news about Fran, I argued with Galko that my aunt was more important than some dead woman's ashes in the back of a trunk. Then, I left.

Fortunately, Clarissa hadn't really jogged to town. She had a car, even bigger than her boyfriend's caddy. So, she gave me a ride home.

Nice digs. Too gingerbread for my taste, but nice, Clarissa said as we pulled into the drive.

I have a house in the middle of suburbia, one of those postwar homes from the fifties—a small, boxy, two-bedroom bungalow, and a dog, Maltese and poodle mix I named Lou, after my dead uncle, both full of noise, spunk, and often too much nerve.

We take long walks early in the morning before the school buses fly by and commuters hurry off to their nine to five jobs. Then, we settle back in at home, me with my cup of Maxwell House and Lou with his flavored doggie biscuit. I pull out the writing pad or laptop and work on the next chapter of my current mystery novel. Yeah, Clarissa, nice is what I enjoy.

Thanks, I said and chewed on my lip while looking down at the box resting on the seat between us. And, ah, good luck with your mom and all.

Clarissa patted the lid and nodded. And you just keep on writing. One day it will turn out good. I feel it.

I got out and waved, then walked to my front door. As I reached the steps, from the corner of my eye I could see a bright pink pants suit hurrying down the sidewalk toward me. I sighed and turned to wait.

Irene slowed her steps when she reached my porch, holding a hand over her chest as if she had run all the way. Of course, all the way was actually around the corner from my place. You could see her backyard from mine.

Funny how she and her sisters all do that two-step shuffle when they're in a big hurry. Fran and Sadie, my other two moms, are really my aunts, just like Irene. Only I call Irene Mom because she's the one who took me on full time after my real mom died. Rita Millenovanovich and Irene Turkovic were not only sisters; they'd been really close friends. I figure Irene and I turned out to be a logical match. We were able to console each other more than anyone else could. My dad had died of cancer a few years before. So, though I became an orphan, in some ways I hit the jackpot, gaining three new moms. The three P sisters, where P stood for Popovich.

Irene had three other children, but adopting me didn't matter. In our clan, the more children, the better. And that didn't stop her from meddling every chance she got. She had plenty of time.

Hi, Mom. Why don't you come in and sit down. Then you can explain what you meant by Aunt Fran being missing. I held the door while she shuffled inside.

"You know. Missing. What else is there when someone disappears?"

Uncle Mike had not seen her at breakfast, which means when he came down to the kitchen he found that Aunt Fran hadn't fixed him anything to eat. I seriously doubt he would have noticed she was missing if he had food in front of him.

Did he report it to the police? I wonder if they have any leads.

It's only been two hours, Lilly, she said. You don't start an official investigation after two hours. You know that. Oh, is that coffee cake?

Yes, it is. Would you like some?

I don't know. All this worrying leaves me with little appetite. Maybe just a small piece.

I watched as she began to slice what looked like half the cake. Dessert was a big deal with our family. Maybe I'll give Detective Kline a call. See if he can do anything to speed things up.

Detective Jake Kline helped me with much of my writing research and occasionally with other more personal stuff. Irene knew about the research, but not the other. And I preferred to keep it that way.

Every time I got so much as twenty feet from an available male, mentioned one's name in passing, or glanced for five seconds at a man, she and my other moms would start making wedding plans. Irene often told me that was her final wish, and that she would not give up her life here on earth until I married. I often told her she might turn out to be the oldest living person on the planet.

I was hoping you'd say that. She mumbled between bites. Have any coffee made? I mean if it's perked. You know that instant stuff gives me gas.

Kline might not be on duty right now. If he isn't, I'll just ask someone else. They owe me a favor. I was referring to a tip I managed to stumble on when I overheard someone talking about a bank robbery. And yes, he wasn't actually talking. But I figured it out all the same. I called Kline and the whole force was waiting inside First National City Bank when the robber walked into the building.

I like that Mr. Kline. Such a nice young man. And all that hair. So many men go bald by the time they are forty. Didn't you say he was forty?

Irene tried to look innocent, but her eyes gave it away. Those eyes and that look. No, Mom. I never said. Don't even know. So just stop.

Stop what? You know, Lilly, you aren't getting any younger. She wagged her finger, noticed the cake crumb on the end of it, and then stuck it in her mouth.

I shook my head as I headed to the sink. After rinsing off my plate, I grabbed the coffee pot. You want another? Anything to divert her line of thinking.

He ever been married? I don't believe you mentioned that either.

How about we stick to Aunt Fran for now. You remember Fran. The one who is missing?

All right. You don't have to get so cranky. I'm only thinking of your poor mother. She would want me to help her daughter find some happiness, she sniffed, and then reached for another piece of cake.

The sympathy card wasn't going to work this time.You know, I bet Uncle Mike could use some consoling. Maybe take the rest of this coffee cake over to him?

That sounds like a great idea! We should leave right now. She set her cup on the table and grabbed her handbag. Let's go.

A groan escaped my mouth. I meant you, Mom. I have too many things to do, like … I desperately searched my brain and felt myself getting backed farther and farther into that corner.

Like what? She crossed her arms and looked at me with those beady, suspicious eyes.

Like the phone call! I said with relief. Remember? I have to call Kline at the precinct. And that might take awhile. You know how slow they are sometimes, and real busy. Always working on some crime, you know?

She glared in silence for a minute or two. Finally, she shrugged her shoulders and slung the strap of her bag over her arm. Well, okay. Then she held out her hand.

I started to extend my hand to shake hers, though I couldn't figure out why. She sighed and shook her head, which puzzled me even more. I dropped my arm.

The cake?

Oh! The cake! Thinking quickly, I grabbed the roll of aluminum foil from the drawer. No way was Uncle Mike getting my favorite baking dish. He'd probably throw it out sooner than to wash it. I'll call over to Uncle Mike's to let you know what the police have to say.

Yeah, well, I hope they have some good news. I just can't imagine how she could disappear like that. She shuffled to the door and was gone.

I flopped down on the sofa and laughed, relieved to be alone. After taking the last sip of my coffee, I traded the cup for the phone.

Dialing the precinct was easy enough; getting any answers might be a lot tougher. Kline was a pushover when it came to giving up information, but a few of the other cops were tight-lipped. Some felt, just as Irene did, I stuck my nose in their business way too often.

Is Detective Kline in? I closed my eyes and waited, hoping it wouldn't be Grezzo's voice I heard on the other end.

Is that you Millenovanovich? How the hell are ya? Still burnin' up the town tryin' to catch the bad guys?

It was Grezzo. My heart sank. Hi, Detective Grezzo. How's your leg? I winced at the slip.

Well, let's see. It's been how long? Almost a year? And it still hurts like hell! What? You think runnin' me over with that four-wheeler was gonna feel good? I tell ya, M, you should really stay off the streets. The community would be a lot safer, don't ya think?

I had enough abuse for one morning. First Irene and now Grezzo. Okay, well, I'll just let you go. I can catch Kline later. I started to put down the receiver.

No, stay on the line. Kline's right here, sweetheart.

I was ready to plead my case about Aunt Fran. It turned out I didn't need to ask for any favors. Uncle Mike had called in one of his own. I didn't ask the particulars. Instead, we talked about Kline's conversation with Uncle Mike and with a few of his neighbors.

Most of what he had to say seemed usual, nothing out of the ordinary to signal foul play. In fact, the description of that morning, at least Uncle Mike's account of it, seemed almost too normal.

So no one saw or heard anything. And Uncle Mike can't remember if Aunt Fran was in bed the night before. That's it?

Yep.

Where does that leave us?

"That leaves you out of it, Lil. I mean it. You promised not to go snooping anymore after that last time," he said.

Sorry. Where does that leave you, then? I wasn't going to argue with him, but there was no way he or anyone else would keep me out of it. Fran was family.

Widen the perimeter for our search. I'll start asking around town. Don't worry, Lil. Fran will probably show up, all cheery and full of some crazy adventure to talk about. Maybe she needed to get away from your uncle for awhile. He laughed. From what I see, he can be a handful.

Yes, he is. Well, I hope you're right. I really didn't have his confidence.

You sound out of sorts. Want me to come over after my shift ends?

His bedroom voice took over and I could feel myself relaxing. The image of spending a lazy afternoon, lying in bed with Kline, lured me into temptation. Yeah, maybe, I murmured, picturing his hands massaging the kinks out of my neck. What time did you say you get off work?

Two.

Okay, see you then. I hung up before I could talk myself out of it. My guilt complex crept in way too often nowadays. I did a fast summary of what could fill the morning and early afternoon, that is, duties and obligations, so I'd be guilt-free when Kline arrived. First, call Irene. Next, write a couple chapters for the novel. And last, take a shower. Well, the last one wasn't exactly a duty, but Kline might change his mind after he got here and took one look at me. I know I would.

Now for duty number one. I picked up the phone and dialed Irene.

Chapter 3

June 20, 1:00 pm:

So much for planning. I spent over an hour digging garbage out of my clogged disposal while listening to my cousin Claire's rambling of her day's events. She is Aunt Fran and Uncle Mike's only child. Why she decided to come to me and unload, God only knows. But she was here, and my migraine was back, along with more kinks in my neck.

Can you believe it? I am totally destroyed by this, Lilly. What are we going to do? Fran wouldn't just leave. Someone must have taken her.

Claire seemed to have given this a lot of thought, more for herself rather than for Fran's safety. Even so, she was right about one thing. Fran wouldn't just leave. So where was she?

I talked to Kline. The police are questioning everyone they can, I offered, sort of a condolence, but I don't think she heard.

What if she's been kidnapped and we get a ransom call. Mike doesn't have that kind of money. She looked at me wild-eyed. I certainly don't have that kind of money!

Claire was the sort of person who had her nails and hair done at least once every two weeks. She visited a therapist for her emotional baggage, sometimes twice a week. But she seldom paid her utilities on time, and would often go to Fran and Mike for a loan to cover them. So, of course I didn't expect her to say she had money. But I also didn't like the way she was thinking.

I doubt it's a kidnapping, Claire. And I'm sure by the end of the day, she'll be back home, cooking meals for Uncle Mike again. Now I was sounding like Kline.

Well, I'm not ruling it out. Do you even read the newspaper or watch the six o'clock news? I tell you, Lilly. They're out there. Claire practically whispered as if the wrong people might be listening outside my door.

I rolled my eyes and muttered an oh brother. I made what I hoped was a noticeable gesture of looking at my watch. Oh my! Would you look at the time? I didn't realize it was that late.

I swear if those kidnappers harm one hair on her body … She didn't finish, but placed a hand over her mouth to keep from crying.

Some people just can't take a hint. Look, Claire. I hate to push, but I have to be somewhere at two, which is in twenty minutes. So you'll have to go. Fortunately, she didn't throw a fit or act disappointed.

Promise you will let me know when you hear something. She gathered up her sweater and sunglasses, gave me a sad, woe-is-me look and hurried out the front door.

I still hadn't taken a shower, but it was just as well since I now had garbage smell to add to the list of body odors. I ran upstairs to the bathroom. Five minutes would do it, I hoped.

I headed upstairs and managed to shower, dry my hair, and put on a suitable amount of makeup before Kline arrived. He stood at the door with a Critter Treat in one hand and a bag of nut Kifle in the other. I smiled and held out my hand while Lou did his jumping like a pogo stick routine. We both got our goodies and went back to the kitchen to eat them, with Kline trailing behind.

Did you stop at Sadie's? I held out a cookie to him.

He took it and nodded. I talked to her. She is so out of sorts. Says she's been baking all morning and afternoon without a minute's break.

"Sounds like her. So did you happen to talk

Reviews for Whips, Cuffs, and Little Brown Boxes

[rhonda1111 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

4 stars With the title I was a little afraid of this book, but no graphic scenes. Lots of bumbling humor along the way to solve the mystery. Some of the slapstick was to my taste and others not so much. The characters were a mixed bag, which is good. The main character is Lilly Millenovanovich. She is a writer. Were books don't earn her a lot respect. Her boyfriend is a cop. She comes with a big family. I like her she does remind me of Stephanie Plum with all the trouble she gets into. She wants to help find her missing Aunt Fran. Mona is her sidekick and gets into trouble with her. I am glad I don't have her neighbor living by me. He is not all their. I liked the story but it was easy to get distracted. For some reason just did not hold my attention for long periods. I would like to see where these characters go to next. I think the book description gives a lot of the suspense away. Still a fun book to read. I was given this book for purpose of reviewing it and being part of its blog tour.