A Big Dill: Isabel & Alma Trumbo Cozy Mystery Series, #9

By Ed Lynskey

On the same day sister sleuths Isabel and Alma Trumbo's beloved beagle Petey Samson runs away from home, they confront their ninth murder mystery. Holly McBride, owner and operator of the popular spice shop A Big Dill on Main Street, is found slain behind the checkout counter. Isabel and Alma quickly identify Holly's ex, Sterling McBride, and her landlady, Tallulah Pettigrew, as the two leading murder suspects. Meantime, Sammi Jo Garner, the Trumbo sisters' young friend and able assistant, contends with her ongoing romance problems with her footloose boyfriend Reynolds Kyle. Sharp in both mind and tongue as ever, Isabel and Alma snoop in their Virginia small town of Quiet Anchorage to hunt down the right clues to solve the whodunit. The latest series novel from Ed Lynskey, A BIG DILL is a fun addition to the cozy mystery genre in the tradition of Agatha Christie, Jessica Fletcher, and Anne George.

• Language: English
• Publisher: ECL Press
• Release date: Jan 13, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386352402

Book preview

LICENSE STATEMENT

Copyright © 2018 by Ed Lynskey and ECL Press. All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the author.

This e-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 person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to the vendor of your choice and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Cover attribution: Filippo Giuliani/Shutterstock.com purchased and used under the Standard License as cited in the Shutterstock Customer Support and FAQs (September 4, 2017).

Other Books by Ed Lynskey

Isabel and Alma Trumbo Cozy Mystery Series

Quiet Anchorage

The Cashmere Shroud

The Ladybug Song

The Amber Top Hat

Sweet Betsy

Murder in a One-Hearse Town

Vi’s Ring

Heirloom

A Big Dill

Piper and Bill Robins Cozy Mystery Series

The Corpse Wore Gingham

Fur the Win

Hope Jones Cozy Mystery Series (as Lyn Key)

Nozy Cat 1

Nozy Cat 2

Private Investigator Frank Johnson Series

Pelham Fell Here

The Dirt-Brown Derby

The Blue Cheer

Troglodytes

The Zinc Zoo

After the Big Noise

Other Novels

Lake Charles

The Quetzal Motel

Ask the Dice

Blood Diamonds

Topaz Moon

Other Short Story Collection

Smoking on Mount Rushmore

Chapter 1

Haven’t you stapled it enough? Isabel asked. So far, I’ve counted twenty times.

It’s only fifteen, Alma said.

Excuse me. I lost count after the first ten.

The more the merrier, I say.

Isabel frowned a little.

Would you like to do it?

I’m just saying you’ve used a lot of staples.

Give me another moment.

No hurry, Isabel said, checking her wristwatch. We’ve got all day.

Haste makes waste, Alma said.

Alma continued using the staple gun. She knew Isabel had a point. However, Alma wanted to make double sure their poster didn’t blow off the wooden Stop sign post. She stepped back and surveyed her handiwork. Then she hit the staple gun once more to drive the final staple into the middle of the poster.

There we go, Alma said. That ought to hold it.

It was the perfect eye-rolling moment, but Isabel’s teary eyes prevented her from doing so.

What do you think? Alma asked.

I couldn’t have stapled it any better, Sammi Jo replied. She was their twentysomething friend and sleuthing assistant with the wheat blonde hair, open smile, and scrappy attitude.

Your reward isn’t enough, Alma said.

My fifty dollars is better than your reward to give free Scrabble-playing lessons, Isabel said.

Quiet Anchorage has legions of Scrabble fans, Alma said.

Are you sure your phone number is correct? Isabel asked.

Yes, Isabel, I double-checked it before we ran off the posters on the post office’s copier, Alma replied.

Were you wearing your reading glasses? Isabel asked.

Naturally. Will you take a chill pill? Alma replied.

How can I relax even a little? Isabel asked. Petey Samson has run away. He’s gone forever. She sniffled. I’m going to bawl out my eyes all over again.

Petey Samson was Isabel and Alma’s pet beagle full of curiosity and devilment.

Oh, stop it before I also burst out crying, Alma said.

We’ll hold a great big cry-fest, and our tears will flood Main Street, Isabel said. Sammi Jo, feel free to join us. The extra hankies are in my pocketbook.

Petey Samson has left us for a little while, Sammi Jo said. He’ll return home before you know it.

Why did he take off like he did? Isabel asked.

Maybe he needed a vacation, Sammi Jo replied.

We spoil him rotten and love him to pieces, Isabel said. He doesn’t know how good he’s got it. Why does he need a vacation?

Like us, beagles sometimes sprout a wild hair and go a little berserk, Sammi Jo said. Petey Samson is like Reynolds Kyle.

Reynolds will return like you say Petey Samson will, Isabel said.

It doesn’t matter if Reynolds does or not, Sammi Jo said with a shrug. He’s a big fat nothing to me.

His diamond engagement ring still flashes on your finger, Isabel said.

I plan to take it off and sell it tomorrow, Sammi Jo said. I’m getting glammed up and going on a shopping spree like I haven’t done in way too long.

Didn’t you tell us the same thing yesterday and the day before that? Isabel asked.

Did I? Well, I don’t remember, Sammi Jo fibbed.

Don’t lose his phone number, Isabel said. You’ll want to use it later.

I know how to get in touch with him if the need comes up, Sammi Jo said.

It seems like just about everybody is out of town, Alma said. Jumpy told me at the grocery market Eustis Blake went to a pharmacist convention in Las Vegas.

I’m glad I paid him my rent before he left, Sammi Jo said.

Our work here isn’t done, Isabel said. Let’s run off more copies of the posters and blanket the streets with them. I have more staples in my pocketbook.

I’ve put up thirty posters, Alma said. Surely that’s enough to get our message out. Anyway, my hand is sore from all the stapling I’ve done.

The posters don’t provide enough information, Isabel said. We should add a picture. The one of Petey Samson sleeping on the sunny ironing board with his tummy hanging over the edge is the cutest.

We didn’t have the time to dig up his photo, Sammi Jo said.

Isabel’s smart phone played its Charlie Parker ringtone.

Hello there, Roscoe, Isabel said. What’s going on?

Are you terribly busy? Sheriff Fox asked.

We’re putting up our lost pet posters, Isabel replied.

"Uh-oh, what’s happened now?’ Sheriff Fox asked.

Petey Samson bounded out the door I had open, Isabel said. He never slowed down even after I snapped my fingers and hollered at him. He acted as if he was late for an appointment. I’m coming unglued because I’m afraid he’s vanished forever.

Sheriff Fox snickered before he squelched it. That’s terrible news, he said, his voice still shaky from giddiness.

Did I just hear you snicker?

You heard static. Is your battery power running low?

I’m pretty sure I heard a snicker. I didn’t make it, and you’re the only other person on the line.

Well, it wasn’t me. What have you done so far?

We’re offering a reward.

Is your reward offer good for dead or alive?

Roscoe, you’re skating on mighty thin ice.

Sorry, Isabel. I couldn’t resist it. How much is the reward?

We’ll pay fifty dollars for his safe return.

Fifty dollars hardly makes it worth anybody’s time to call you with any information they may have.

All the townies know how much he means to us.

Does he carry a microchip in case a Good Samaritan brings him to the animal shelter?

We had him microchipped the day he joined our family.

I’ll issue a BOLO for a fat beagle to my deputy sheriffs on patrol.

Thank you. However, we like to say Petey Samson is pudgy or portly. Referring to him as chubby is also permissible but never fat. He’s sensitive about his weight.

Got it. The BOLO will be for a portly, sensitive male beagle. How does that description sound?

Perfect. Now you expect us to return the favor by solving the latest murder you’re calling me about. Am I right?

You are but how did you know?

Elementary, Roscoe. You never contact us for any other reason. You want to discuss murder, and we chat far too often. I dread asking it, but who is the murder victim?

Holly McBride owned and operated the spice shop—she oddly called it A Big Dill—on Main Street. Did you know her?

Sheriff Fox is the only person who doesn’t get Holly’s food pun, Isabel thought. Not only did we know Holly, we also shopped at A Big Dill, she replied.

No kidding. What did you purchase?

We like to add her yellow saffron to our scrambled eggs. Where are you?

I’m at A Big Dill. Can you get down here in the next ten minutes?

We’ll shoot for five. See you then.

Isabel hung up the smart phone and glanced at Alma.

When it rains, it pours, Isabel said. That was Sheriff Fox. He said Holly McBride was murdered in her spice shop.

Goodness gracious, that’s so horrible, Alma said, unable to suppress her shiver.

What’s more, we’re back on the case, Isabel said.

We’ll have to ramp it up a notch, Sammi Jo said.

Let’s ramp it up a few notches, Isabel said. We have to track down the missing Petey Samson while identifying Holly’s killer.

Alma raked her fingers through her gray hair. I feel a little overwhelmed. Our doing just one of those tasks is a tall order.

It’s nothing we can’t handle, Isabel said. We shouldn’t keep Sheriff Fox cooling his heels.

***

Midday on Main Street was a slow period, and Isabel had no trouble parking the sisters’ powder blue, four-door car. She prided herself as the better driver since Alma tended to use a heavy foot on the gas pedal. They divided up the driving duties as they did everything else at the brick rambler they shared on Church Street.

Both in their seventies, Alma was the divorcée while Isabel was the widow. The townies said the Trumbo sisters were two peas in a pod, which they laughed about. They couldn’t be more different, and Sammi Jo was the first to agree.

How did we get started as sleuths? Alma asked while Isabel turned off the car engine.

We had to step in and rescue Megan from jail, Isabel replied.

Megan was their twentysomething grand niece who’d moved away to a not-so-distant city.

We also made a new friend, Isabel continued. Sammi Jo has been invaluable.

Aw shucks, stop it or I’ll get swellheaded, Sammi Jo said.

Let me put it this way, Isabel said. If you ever have a reason to quit, I’m going to retire from the sleuth trade.

I plan to stick with it for as long as you do, Sammi Jo said.

We’re in it for the long haul, Alma said. Right, Isabel?

If the good Lord is willing, and the levee doesn’t break, Isabel replied.

A hand waving at Isabel’s car window flagged their attention. A befuddled Sheriff Fox nudged back his Smokey Bear uniform hat and scratched his scalp. Isabel thought he’d gained a few pounds around the middle since she last saw him. She powered down the car window and nodded.

Good afternoon, Roscoe, she said.

That’s debatable, Isabel, Sheriff Fox said. Murder tends to ruin my afternoon.

Isabel looked beyond Sheriff Fox at A Big Dill. The wide expanse of glass storefront reflected the powder blue car and the four visitors as a wavy image. The interior lights were off. She couldn’t peer into the space where Holly had worked, dreamed, and, finally, died. Isabel remembered she needed to pick up a new packet of yellow saffron.

Have your CSI folks discharged their duties? Isabel asked.

Sheriff Fox nodded. They’ve also transported the murder victim to the morgue, he said.

They work efficiently, Isabel said.

By now they’ve done it enough times to have it down pat, Sheriff Fox said.

Isabel nodded.

Did you draw the outline of her dead body? Alma asked.

Deputy Bexley took care of it, Sheriff Fox replied. I returned his chalk sticks, and he’s happy as a cowboy at a rodeo.

How did she die? Alma asked.

It was blunt force trauma to her head, Sheriff Fox replied. She died on the spot.

Everybody shuddered from the chill gripping them as the goose bumps appeared on their arms. Murder was never pretty.

What else is important to ask? Alma asked. I should write down a checklist. I know what. Did Holly make a dying declaration?

Don’t be absurd, Isabel replied. How could she have made a dying declaration?

I’m doing my best under trying circumstances, Alma said. If you can do any better, feel free to ask the questions.

I hope she had security cameras installed, Isabel said.

They haven’t worked in months, Sheriff Fox said.

Who reported her murder? Isabel asked.

Iris Jones came into the spice shop and saw Holly’s shoes protruding from behind the checkout counter, Sheriff Fox replied.

Poor Iris has all the luck, Alma said.

Would you like to take a closer look? Sheriff Fox asked.

Isabel shook her head. Not this time, Roscoe. I prefer to hang onto my good memories of Holly and A Big Dill.

If we stand any chance for success, we should look at it now, Alma said.

Annoyed, Isabel said nothing. She appreciated why Jessica Fletcher from Cabot Cove didn’t take on a partner. Sleuthing alone had its perks, starting with hearing no guff. However, Isabel had accepted her outspoken kid sister as her partner, and she vowed to make the best of it even while gritting her teeth.

Sammi Jo caught Alma’s sly wink. She was up to something with Isabel.

Sure, we have no reason to hurry, Alma said. Holly’s killer might be halfway to Timbuktu when we finally check it, but that’s okay, huh, Isabel?

Isabel knew when she was being played. You’re prodding me into inspecting the murder scene now, she said.

Do you think so? Alma said. If you’ve gotten over your brain cramp, we’ll can finish up here and leave for home.

I suppose we must go inside then, Isabel said.

Sheriff Fox took out the door key, undid the lock, and they headed into the spice shop, setting in motion a new murder mystery. At the same time, they also had to fetch Petey Samson home before nightfall.

Chapter 2

We’ve run low on yellow saffron, Alma said. Who do we pay for buying a new packet?

Who has the brain cramp now? Isabel asked.

Alma blinked at her sister. My question is legitimate since we’re at A Big Dill, and I see the packets of yellow saffron out for sale.

Obviously you can’t buy one from Holly, Isabel said.

Duh, Alma said. Maybe Sheriff Fox will handle making the transaction.

Shaking his head, Sheriff Fox backed up a step. Don’t be flashing any cash in here, he said. The townies will spot us and jump to the conclusion you’re bribing me.

Who accepts a bribe for less than ten dollars? Alma asked.

Maybe you want a small favor, Sheriff Fox replied.

We’ll have to make do without the yellow saffron, Isabel said.

Weren’t you dating Holly? Alma asked.

I never went out with her on a date, Sheriff Fox replied. "It wasn’t for the lack of trying. I liked her but she never accepted my invitations to dinner and