Cozy Crime Fiction Series: BOUNTY, BUSTED

By Susan Swain

Books 1 and 2 of the Cozy Crime Fiction Series.

Bounty, the prequel, is all about money, murder, and a prized estate called Bounty.
Perce is used to getting what he wants and he wants Bounty, but getting it isn’t going to be easy. The current owner won’t give it up without a fight.

And when Perce falls victim to a serious illness, there’s something very suspicious about the man who suddenly wants to be his friend. Who is CJ and what does he really want?

Busted, the sequel, is about mistaken identity, money, and murder.

Private investigator Mason is called in again, this time to investigate the disappearance of a nurse from Riverside Hospital. His investigation leads him to a woman purporting to be Norma in a Midway nursing home.

Who is this woman? What does she really want in Midway and how far will she go to get it? And where is Norma?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Susan Swain
• Release date: Apr 15, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310008788

Susan Swain

Susan Swain lives, reads, writes cozy crime and rhyming animal stories, gardens, and ​walks her liver spotted dalmatian, Bea, and beagle, Lally, in the Eastern Bay of Plenty of New Zealand.

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Cozy Crime Fiction Series:

BOUNTY, BUSTED

Susan Swain

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2015 Susan Swain

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, organizations, locales, or events is purely coincidental.

This book is available in print at most online retailers.

Table of Contents

BOUNTY

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Epilog 1

BUSTED

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Epilog2

About the author

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BOUNTY:

Crime Fiction Prequel to BUSTED

Susan Swain

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2013 Susan Swain

Acknowledgment

Thanks to Robyn Burke for the goldfish.

Chapter 1

He lay propped up on pillows in a nursing home bed. The bed head, positioned to the right of the picture window, placed his back to the skeletal stemmed winter rose garden. Despite the comfortable room temperature, he drew the baby blue coverlet closer to his body. Perce peered round the room with resignation. Beside the bed, visitor chairs and a cluttered night stand competed for floor space. The photograph of a sign that read Bounty lay carelessly discarded among drinking vessels and medications on the night stand. A red brick ranch house sprawled behind the sign. Unrelieved, green grass grew in the back yard of the house. In the privacy of his room, Perce’s eyes moistened at the memory.

Across from him, on the other side of the window, his latest and last, all channels package wide-screen television, though muted, dominated the corner room. A Zimmer frame had been discreetly parked beside it. Out of reach atop a chest of drawers lay a paperback novel. Plumbed in before the door, a white wash basin contrasted with the blank screen of the nursing home television mounted above it.

Although in need of assistance, Perce didn’t press the nursing home buzzer button he fumbled between his thumb and forefinger. The button would summon Ivy and the end of his life. His cell phone no longer lay within reach on the night stand. He suspected Poison Ivy had pocketed the phone. Perce wondered where his wallet was. He couldn’t remember when he’d seen it last. While out of sight, Poison Ivy was always within hearing. So he lay quietly counting last breaths.

But on a promising spring morning two years earlier, he received a call on his cell phone from Ivy at Bounty. It signaled the end of another life. His wife’s life. While his older wife endured bad health, he enjoyed good health. Perce looked forward to taking control of her estate and cashing in on the generous insurance policy he’d taken out on her life. After an indecently short period of mourning, Perce intended to openly pursue his long-term love interest, Kitty. She was a thirty something, short, slender, single mother with dark brown eyes and shoulder length black hair. He’d banked on this one’s returned interest in him. But before Kitty, he’d set his cap for Bounty.

Perce regarded himself as lucky. Lucky that Luce had hired him. He’d phoned her about the advertisement she’d placed for the position of Handyman and Groundsman in the Work Available column of the local newspaper.

Luce told him that she and her late husband Bert had retired from an accountancy practice and inner city apartment in Riverside. The city, with its scenic river walks, was about an hour’s drive north of Midway. The town of Midway was a further twenty minutes from the sign that read Bounty. Bert had the sign made and erected shortly after they bought the property. They had the house built as an early retirement present to themselves. Utilizing Luce’s gift for interior decorating, they’d fully furnished and moved into the house with the early onset of winter.

Bert’s morning routine changed somewhat when they took up residence at Bounty. He was tall and fair-skinned but soft thanks to a career spent in an office chair and Luce’s home baking. His gray eyes looked small and vulnerable after too many years spent squinting at small print. Although normally propped on his unremarkable nose, he’d left his silver rimmed glasses on the dining room table in readiness for his return. Face flushed with the cold, he wore gray cotton sweatpants and sweatshirt, and sporty gym shoes. His thinning straight gray hair flopped over his forehead as he dashed out to retrieve the newspaper from the driveway beside the Bounty sign.

Bert savored the inky smell and crackle of crisp pages as he unfolded them at his leisure on the breakfast table. He set the financial section aside for himself (can’t teach an old dog new tricks) and passed the entertainment section across the table to Luce. Luce, wearing a gray cotton leisure suit, pink lipstick, and fluffy slippers insisted it was to keep abreast of the conversation at her weekly beauty salon appointment in town. Bert suspected she enjoyed the gossip. He refolded the national and international news sections for Luce after he’d perused them while she cooked breakfast (eggs, toast, and coffee).

But his last run-of-the-mill breakfast took an unexpected turn. Bert looked up from the financial section with a startled expression on his long face and then slumped from his chair to the polished wooden floor, his glasses askew.

Luce collected herself quickly to phone for help, but it was already too late.

The kindly doctor told her that Bert had died almost instantly. He said, Apart from chest pain, Bert probably didn’t feel a thing, in an attempt to comfort her.

Bert left the large, flat property and hardly lived-in house for Luce to manage alone.

Two months passed along with Bert before Luce realized she needed help to run the property. Luce did not intend to retire to town just yet.

She placed an advertisement in Midway’s weekly newspaper. Of the dozens of phone calls Luce received about the position, she interviewed six applicants. On a chilly late winter Friday morning, she employed the final applicant, Perce.

Perce spotted the white wooden sign hanging from a rail attached to a post. The bold black Roman letters spelled Bounty. He turned off the two-lane rural road into the driveway beside the sign. Directly ahead lay a two car parking pad in front of a double garage, its doors closed to prying eyes. He eased his late model, red sedan along the front of the red brick building. Large picture windows overlooked the driveway. Perce braked beside the covered entry. He got out of his sedan, locked it, and walked up to the bright red front door. Perce liked the color red.

He rapped the brass ring attached to the door. While he waited for a response, Perce contemplated the door. It needed a horseshoe. Perce didn’t like horses, but he liked horseshoes. If he owned this house, he’d nail one to the door for luck.

The door swung open. His first thought was widow woman. Perce politely removed his cap. He saw a slight woman of about fifty, his height, with warm brown eyes set in a pleasant face framed by lank brown hair in need of cutting. She wore a black leisure suit, pink lipstick, and a ladies dress watch. The fourth finger of her left hand sparkled with an old gold ring inset with sapphires and diamonds.

She saw a thick-set, forty-something year old man of average height with striking blue eyes, a generous mouth, and close cropped brown hair. He wore blue jeans, a red flannel shirt, black loafers, and a men’s sports wrist watch.

Luce invited him into the wide hallway, its walls painted a warm cream. An empty colored glass vase and matching dish sat on a wooden hall table to their right. Beside the table a door opened into a living room. Perce peeked into the room. A large, wall-mounted television attracted his attention. Grouped under the television was a long, low wooden table, a comfortable dull green fabric sofa and two matching recliner chairs. Perce recognized local landmarks from the plain black framed photographs displayed on the cream walls. Heavy dull green drapes hung either side of the picture windows overlooking the driveway. The light brown carpet underfoot ran through the living room. Amused, Luce heard an appreciative whistle escape his lips. Perce was impressed. Given the opportunity, he wouldn’t change a thing in this room.

He followed her past the living room door and another passage leading off to the left. An open doorway led into the kitchen and dining area with its highly polished wooden floor and cream painted walls. Perce wondered if they’d bought a job lot of cream paint. The double ranch sliding doors gave on to a wide wooden deck running the length of the room. Arranged around the deck, he saw a barbecue table and six chairs and a low table between two matching loungers. All weather blue cushions brightened the setting. The gas barbecue grill didn’t look as if it had been fired up.

Luce offered him coffee and a chair at the oblong pine dining room table. The bright red cotton cushions tied to the seats and backs of the pine chairs proved both comfortable and cheerful. Perce recognized the expensive coffee maker hard at work on the nearby countertop from the local appliance store. He’d prolong the interview long enough to enjoy a second cup to wash down the homemade pound cake set out on a plain white plate in front of him.

As Luce poured the coffee into mugs, Perce looked out across the deck to the big, flat, grassed back yard. Luce placed a mug on a coaster customized with a picture of the Bounty sign in front of him. She seated herself opposite Perce, You’ll want to know more about the job before we talk about hours and wages.

Perce nodded in agreement.

The full-time handyman and groundsman is expected to do regular maintenance and repairs to keep everything in good working order. Keep the machinery well-oiled. She paused to look at the neatly penned list of duties on the table in front of her. Her son-in-law Bill, himself the employer of a part-time home handyman and groundsman, had helped her compile the list. She resumed, Duties include painting, clearing leaves and debris from the gutters and drains... Luce looked up to see Perce’s face creased with confusion, When we’ve established the shelter belt, orchard, and shade trees. Water the flower, vegetable, and herb gardens, she promptly amended, when we’ve planted them. Mow the grass. A riding mower and a walk-behind mower are supplied. Arrange garbage disposal and do whatever else needs doing. Luce consulted the list, If you can’t do the job, get quotes from contractors who can. Hire the best person for the job and oversee it to your satisfaction. Prioritize your work. There’s no set schedule. Maintain the tools and arrange for the car and the mowers to be serviced. Pass on all invoices to me for payment. Account for your time in the notebook provided by me and hand it in for approval and payment at the end of each week. She tapped a notebook sitting atop the small stack of papers in front of her.

You told me on the phone that you’ve been a self-employed home handyman and groundsman since the Midway mill’s closure. Seeing only a cap in his hands, she asked, Did you bring any references?

Perce replied gruffly, The mill’s closed so it’s too late to ask for references. Didn’t know to ask for them before it closed. He pulled a scrap of paper torn from a spiral bound notebook out of his shirt pocket. This is a list of the names and phone numbers of people who pay me to do their property maintenance and repairs and yard work. So I’ll have to tell them I can’t work for them anymore if I get the job. But I don’t want you upsetting things if I don’t get it.

Luce extended her hand for the slip of paper, but Perce held on gamely.

How much are you willing to pay? If it’s not as good as what I’m getting now, I’ll be on my way.

Luce wondered what Perce thought he was worth, How much were you expecting?

A calculating look crossed Perce’s face as he took a small pencil from his breast pocket. He turned the scrap of paper in his hand over and wrote a figure on the back. With his thumb and forefinger still gripping the edge of the notepaper, he held it out to Luce to read.

A challenge. Luce liked a challenge. She looked down at the amount he’d written on the paper, then up at Perce’s earnest expression. He wasn’t joking. Perce’s figure was more than her son-in-law the accountant paid his employee. Although Luce knew Bill to be niggardly, she resolved to negotiate a figure lower than Perce’s.

Perce was the last of the short-listed applicants to be interviewed. Despite his orneriness, he was also the frontrunner in the field of six. Unwilling to wrest the paper from Perce, with her pen she drew a line through his amount and copied Bill’s figure in below it.

Perce’s lips barely moved as he reckoned the difference. With his pencil, he firmly crossed out her figure and under it wrote the difference between the two amounts.

Luce sighed. He’d outmaneuvered her with maths. From the bottom of the pile of papers on the table, she removed the stapled pages headed ‘Contract.’ Bill had given her a contract for the successful applicant to sign. She wrote his name and second amount on the contract and offered it to Perce to sign.

Perce accepted the document, perused it, then looked up and asked, When do I start?

Luce indicated he sign the contract first.

Perce scowled, My lawyer will have to see it before I sign it. He folded the contract neatly and filed it in his shirt pocket with the slip of paper and pencil. Perce got up from the table, pocketed the notebook from on top of the pile of papers, and asked in his gruff voice, Where are the mowers and tools kept?

Luce rose from the table. She led him back through the kitchen and then along a passage running at a right angle to the entrance hall. Perce followed her past the open doors to two bedrooms. They stepped through another doorway at the end of the hall into a concrete floored double garage. She pointed to a top-of-the-range riding mower in front of the rear roll-up door. Parked beside it was a walk-behind mower, a cut above the one he used for his lawn mowing business. To Luce’s amusement, another whistle of approval escaped Perce’s lips.

Perce liked expensive, well-maintained machines. To the right of the mowers, he inspected a well-equipped tool room.

When do I start?

First thing on Monday morning.

On his return to town, Perce called on his clients. Without explanation, he told them to find someone else to mow their grass.

A few minutes before seven o’clock on Monday morning, Perce pulled off the road and parked in front of a closed garage door. Last Friday, he’d noted a late model green hatchback parked behind the other door. Perce locked his sedan and then walked the short distance along the concrete path to the front porch. He wore blue jeans, a red flannel shirt, and black loafers. Perce rapped on the door.

Luce greeted him with a bright smile, Good morning. Apart from an endearing smudge of flour on her right cheek, she wore no other make-up that he could discern. Her lank hair hung loose. She had on a white bib apron, with generous stitched pockets, over a gray leisure suit. She apologized, I’m sorry but I wasn’t expecting you so early. As you can see I’m baking.

Instead of ushering him into the hall, she slipped past him, This way. She led him back along the path to the garage. A key plucked from her apron pocket unlocked a side door. He followed her through the garage to the tool room. She handed him a sheet of paper torn from her writing pad. It’s a list of what’s not working properly. Make a note of what you need, but can’t find here, to get things going again. Then drive me into town.

Perce took his pencil from his pocket, scanned the list, and then set to work.

Luce returned to the kitchen.

Ninety minutes later, apron discarded and pink lipstick applied, Luce handed Perce the keys to the hatchback and slid into the passenger seat. Without a word, Perce got into the driver’s seat, started the engine, and backed out of the garage. He drove slowly past the front of the house. Perce didn’t like being a passenger in a vehicle. As an adult, he couldn’t remember being driven by a woman. It was bad enough driving a woman’s car. A motorized shopping cart.

As they entered the town limits, Luce directed Perce to park outside the beauty salon on Main Street. Find what you need at the hardware store and put it on my account. Take your time, I’ll catch up with you there.

She waved Perce off then turned to face the salon door. Her hand rested hesitantly on the door lever. It was Luce’s first appointment since Bert’s death. But as she stepped inside, the staff greeted her warmly without dwelling on her recent loss.

Over an hour later, with a spring in her step, Luce walked along the main street calling into businesses to pay accounts with her bank card. Luce had planned her route to end at the hardware store where she turned from paying her account to find Perce approaching the counter.

He acknowledged her with a curt nod and then signed off the sales slip placed in front of him by the salesperson. The salesman bagged the goods on the counter and handed them to him. With a bag in each hand, he led her to the car, placed the bags in the trunk, and then drove to the nearby supermarket.

Perce parked in the supermarket lot. He tested the all wheel drive capability of several carts before selecting one. Then he caught up with Luce in the produce department pressure testing fresh fruit and vegetables. While Luce filled the cart, Perce guided it round the aisles.

She turned to Perce, Tea or coffee?

Perce picked the most expensive brand of coffee from the shelf and added it to the cart.

I make salad sandwiches for myself for lunch. Would you like me to make sandwiches for you too?

Perce nodded.

What about fillings. Likes? Dislikes?

Perce shook his head.

They finished the shopping in silence.

Luce paid for the groceries. Perce wheeled the cart through the checkout and out to the hatchback. He unloaded the groceries from cart to car, closed the hatch, turned on his heel and returned the cart to its rank.

On the return trip, Perce asked Luce about her late husband’s preference for the hatchback. He added, I prefer to drive a sedan.

Surprised by his sudden chattiness, she stole a glance at Perce’s profile as he concentrated on the road ahead. What had set off Chatty Perce? Bert preferred to drive his sedan, but I gave it to our daughter Alice after his death.

Perce wondered why she hadn’t given Alice the hatchback, but he kept it to himself.

Due to house settling, ongoing repairs and maintenance kept Perce busy. He also completed work round the property begun by Bert. Perce maintained the vehicles (checked the engine fluid levels and tire pressures) and washed and polished Luce’s serviceable hatchback and his beloved red riding mower. But he took no interest in Luce’s planting plans.

With a terrier’s tenacity, Luce presented the plans to Perce from time to time but he stubbornly refused to give them his attention. It didn’t matter to Perce whether Luce and Bert had planned to plant vegetables, flowers, herbs, or trees because they all created mess. He would not dig up his well-tended grass to accommodate messy plants and trees.

Neighbors had erected the boundary fences before Luce and Bert bought their property. Bert had employed a contractor to weed spray, then cultivate the back yard and sow grass seed before the winter. He’d played catch up with their closest neighbors, the Browns, who worked steadily toward self-sufficiency. Sadly Bert died before he was able to implement their spring planting program. Bert had produced only grass.

The large, grassed back yard had become a topic of conversation for the neighbors on all sides. But Perce was oblivious to them as he donned ear muffs, eased the mower out of its garage, and started mowing in ever decreasing spirals.

Luce finally realized Perce didn’t intend to implement her (and Bert’s) planting program. To carry out the plans, she could hire a contractor, another groundsman, or she could do it herself.

When they reached Midway the following Monday morning, she instructed Perce to drive directly to the hardware store. Luce left Perce in the tool department with his weekly shopping list while she went in search of gardening supplies. She would do it without his help. Armed with the plans and helpful salespeople, she selected appropriately sized wooden planter boxes to accommodate the plants. She chose oblong boxes for flowers and vegetables, and purpose built planters for herbs. Satisfied with her choices, she asked the sales assistant to calculate the required potting mix to fill the containers. She added the recommended watering system to the growing pile of gardening paraphernalia. Then she pulled a list of flower and vegetable seedlings, vegetable seeds, and herb plants from her olive green leisure suit pants pocket.

Perce hung back far enough to let the salespeople help Luce select the seeds, seedlings, and plants. Luce arranged delivery for the following morning. Perce signed off his purchases and caught up with her as she left the store.

Early the next morning, Luce completed her preparations for the new arrivals. Once unloaded from the truck, she’d ask the delivery people to help her position the planters. Garage door propped open, tub tools, watering can, and wheelbarrow at the ready, she retired to the kitchen. While she waited for the truck with a fresh mug of coffee in hand, a vehicle pulled into the driveway. If she hadn’t recognized the sound of the sedan, a glance at the kitchen clock would have told her it was Perce.

Perce pulled into the parking space in front of the garage, got out of his car, and locked it as usual. When he didn’t appear at the kitchen door, Luce realized he’d gone into the garage through the side door she’d left open. She heard the back door of the garage roll up and lock into position. The riding mower started. Then Perce carefully maneuvered it out of the garage into the back yard where it idled.

When the mower didn’t set off straight away, she supposed Perce was loading it with weed spraying equipment. Moments later Perce engaged the mower and proceeded along the fence line. He’d spray along the boundary fences from the backpack he wore.

Perce had suggested Luce invest in a tow sprayer to pull behind the mower. With its large capacity tank, Perce argued that he wouldn’t have to return to the garage to refill the spray unit as often as the backpack sprayer necessitated.

Luce reasoned that Perce could refill the backpack when he returned every few hours for his breaks. She wouldn’t be swayed because Perce hadn’t consulted her about spraying along the fence lines. However, neighbors had expressed their concern at the resultant spray drift damage to plants (intentional or not) on their side of the fences.

Bert and Luce had shared the plans for the property with their neighbors. But after Bert’s sudden death, the neighbors had expected Luce to shelve the plans. They wondered if she would retire to Midway or even