Weeping Moon: a Lella York Novel of Suspense

By maria grazia swan

Lella York has a way of getting herself into trouble, even when she's doing volunteer work. Who is the mysterious storyteller, and what is going on at the senior living center? And will Lella find out before it's too late?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Echo Canyon Press
• Release date: Sep 30, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393125150

Book preview

WEEPING MOON

A short story in the Lella York Mysteries series

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Maria Grazia Swan

Copyright © 2018 Maria Grazia Swan

an Echo Canyon Press publication

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All rights reserved, which includes the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever except as provided by the US Copyright Law.

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Weeping Moon is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author and publisher.

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Formatting and cover design by Debora Lewis [e-mail]

Contents

Weeping Moon

Author’s Note

About the Author

Lella York has a way of getting herself into trouble, even when she’s doing volunteer work. Who is the mysterious storyteller, and what is going on at the senior living center? And will Lella find out before it’s too late?

WEEPING MOON

A short story in the Lella York Mysteries series

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A RIBBON OF light split the darkness, and in the silent room the creaking of the opening door resonated like thunder. Then she appeared. A white ethereal figure caught in the slice of brightness, she moved swiftly and gracefully across the makeshift stage a few feet above the floor.

I had lingering misgivings about the presentation, but having given into Sabrina’s insistence I found myself sitting in the front row of this small, almost intimate space that served as the assisted living multi-activity room. Layers of sheer fabric floated around the performer as she stepped around in a dance-like sequence more reminiscent of junior high contortions than Salome’s dance of the seven veils. As the light grew brighter, two things became quite apparent—her costume could have used a good dry cleaner, and the performer was closer to the age of the facility residents than of Salome of the seven veils fame. I sighed, not too loudly, having been warned about the spectators’ rather vocal way of expressing their annoyance toward interruptions.

The Opera House this was not. Even the musical number in the background supposedly came from the performer’s phone connected to a wireless speaker. And I was at least a hundred times bitchier than usual. Blame that on Larry—his absence to be precise.

With the warm-up moves out of the way, Miss Dolores plopped herself in the comfy-looking armchair next to a floor lamp at center stage. She picked up a rather thick book from the floor and settled down to read. Sabrina had told me we would be treated to a mesmerizing storyteller, so I didn’t quite get the rather worn-out attire or the reason for the dance, unless she was about to read...erotica? I smiled at the thought and turned to survey the audience. Erotica? At this upscale senior assisted living, finally something funny? Behind Sabrina and I in the front row, there were three more rows of people. Some on regular foldout chairs with the odd walker set beside them, and a few who were relegated to wheelchairs. Personnel had posted themselves at strategic points around the room. All in all, it was a well-organized and well-attended event. There was even a small refreshments table and some trays filled with bite-size cookies, pitchers of lemonade and what looked like tea. A nice young man with a bow tie and vest manned the goodies.

Miss Dolores began to read, and it didn’t take me long to realize she wasn’t reading. Although the worn-out book sat open on