Blue Heron Mysteries: Book 1

By Susan A Jennings

City drugs and murder invade the tranquil shores of Black Lake, terrifying Hannah in the first story and in story two Hannah rescues a little girl from her kidnappers while trapped in an ice storm. An heirloom ring goes missing in story three, twists and turns reveal unlikely thieves, and a gruesome murder nearly gets Hannah killed in story four.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Apr 18, 2014
• ISBN: 9780993743306

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Title and Summary

The Blue Heron Mysteries –Book 1

By Susan A. Jennings

Hannah and Tom Wilton spend their summers and winter weekends at Blue Heron Cottage enjoying their retirement, on the shores of tranquil Black Lake, Ontario Canada. Hannah, an amateur sleuth and photographer, has a propensity to get involved in strange and sometimes dangerous happenings including murder, drugs, theft and even rescuing a kidnapped little girl.

The Big Island Nightmare – Murder and city drugs

The Snow Angel - A cunning kidnapping

Thieves at Black Lake – Unlikely culprits

The Only Witness, Silenced in Bronze – A gruesome murder

With minor changes these stories have been previously published in the Black Lake Chronicles Volumes 2 & 3 by The Ottawa Story Spinners Publisher Alder Book Publishing.

Copyright

Copyright © 2014 by Susan A. Jennings

All rights reserved. No part of this story may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or otherwise, or any form of information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the author; it is an infringement of the copyright law.

Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication

Jennings, Susan A

Blue Heron Mysteries Book 1/Susan A. Jennings

eISBN: 978-0-9937433-0-6

Cover Design: Heather McKinnon, Artful Book Cover Designs

Cover Photo: ©MaleWitch / Shutterstock

Disclaimer

These stories are a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events and incidents either are a product of the author’s imagination or those places that do exist have been been used fictitiously. Any resemblance to real people, living or dead is pure coincidence. Story settings, events and places are all a figment of the author’s imagination.

Dedication

To: The Ottawa Story Spinners:

Anne, Kathi, Tony, Rita, Barry, Chantal, Audrey and Kit

Without whose support, enthusiasm and critical eye these stories would not have been published.

Nobody ever commits a crime without doing something stupid.

Oscar Wilde

THE BIG ISLAND NIGHTMARE

Hannah Wilton woke to her heart pounding. The pit of her stomach was in fight or flight mode, angry voices, a mournful, blood curdling cry and splashing water were swirling in her head. She opened her eyes as the digital numbers flipped over to 3.00 am. Taking a deep breath she sat up in bed, for fear that the nightmare would return.

Pulling the sheet back she slowly swung her legs to the floor, watching Tom’s chest rise and fall in deep sleep. Just looking at him made her feel better she loved him as much, if not more, than the day she married him, forty years ago. She moved quietly into the kitchen, poured herself a glass of milk spilling some on the counter, her hands were shaking.

That was a disturbing nightmare, she whispered. Instinctively avoiding the squeaky areas of the old maple floor, she stepped over to the patio door, easing it open. She leaned out, the air felt, only slightly cooler. Her eyes, now accustomed to the dark, could make out the outline of the Big Island. She frowned. Tiny lights were dancing on the cliff. Fireflies! It can’t be. I’m too far away. The light disappeared and re-appeared briefly on the point. She shook her head and looked again but there was nothing there. I’m tired, she thought, I need to get some sleep.

Hannah didn’t sleep, the nightmare kept rewinding in her head until the sun came up. At 5:30 Tom began to stir, she got up and made coffee. Savouring the rich aroma of the brewing coffee she opened her dresser trying to find something cool to wear deciding on blue cotton shorts and a matching blouse. Tom emerged in red bathing shorts, a yellow and black stripped T-shirt. His old Tilley hat pulled too low over his forehead; unlike Hannah, he rarely matched, she smiled, he reminded her of a yellow jacket but she knew better than to say anything. Tom carried the coffee tray to the deck and they settled in their Adirondack chairs gazing idly across the ever changing Black Lake.

Tom, I had a horrible nightmare last night. I was so scared I couldn’t sleep.

I thought I heard you up in the night. What was it about?

Now I think about it, it was nothing; some angry voices and splashing water. It sounds silly now. But you know it’s strange, the sounds were quite vivid but, I don’t have any kind of image She tried to smile but just thinking about it made her tense.

Dreams are funny like that. Tom said draining his coffee mug. I think I’ll take the canoe out before it gets too hot.

Hannah leaned her head back and closed her eyes. The birds chirping their morning chorus to the rhythm of the lapping lake lulled her to sleep. She awoke with the trill call of the loon calling her mate followed by their haunting duet. She heard the gentle plop of Tom’s paddles as the canoe glided by the blue heron standing on guard at the inlet. Hannah opened her eyes. He waved, she smiled. It was too hot to do anything else.

Black Lake, near Perth and a two hour drive from Ottawa was home to Blue Heron Cottage—aptly named for the resident blue heron. Tom had inherited the cottage from his grandfather. He enjoyed paddling his canoe on Black Lake. Hannah’s hobby was capturing the lake on camera preferring to have her feet firmly planted on dry land.

Maggie Gregory, their closest neighbour waved, good morning, from Lavender Cottage, so named for the lavender hedge that grew along the front porch. In reply Hannah raised her