Die Die Blackbird

By Teresa Trent

Nora Alexander is finding her job exciting as she welcomes paranormal investigators Jack and Daisy Foley to the Tunie Hotel. They are trying to contact the ghost of Sam Houston not only for their internet production but because it is reported there is a stash of Santa Anna's gold hidden somewhere. They are operating on the theory that Sam Houston visited a lady of the evening in Piney Woods and locate Red Ruth Inn where a parking lot now stands. Not only do these two stir the spirit world, but they also bother some of the town's most established citizens including the town's quilting group who doesn't appreciate their overtaking of the hotel with ghost hunting equipment.
When a townsperson is murdered with suspected ties to the local gang, The Alamo Runners, Nora finds herself wanting to protect his wife and daughter all the while getting cryptic messages from beyond. Jack and Daisy aren't the only ones with a connection to the other side.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Epicenter Press
• Release date: Jan 20, 2020
• ISBN: 9781603816403

Teresa Trent

Teresa Trent is the author of over 15 books. She started writing cozy mysteries with the Pecan Bayou and Piney Woods Mystery Series. She mainly sets her stories in different geographical areas of Texas and The Swinging Sixties historical series is set just north of Dallas, starting in 1962. You might think with so many books set in the Lone Star state, she was born there, but no. She has lived all over the world, thanks to her father's career in the army. After living in Texas for twenty-five years, she's finally put down roots. Teresa is a hybrid author, self-publishing early in her career, which led her to traditional publishing with Level Best Books and Camel Press. She is the author of several short stories that have appeared in a host of anthologies. Teresa publishes the blog and podcast, Books to the Ceiling at https://teresatrent.blog where she loves to read the book excerpts of other writers and share in the writing community. Teresa is a member of Sisters in Crime and lives in Houston, Texas with her husband and son.

Book preview

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Praise for the Piney Woods Mystery Series

…funny, a page turner, and very unpredictable…. The plot and the vivid descriptions of the town and characters, give readers a warm, cozy feeling. If you think at any time during the reading that you know ‘who did it,’ you are in for a big surprise.

—Carol Hoyer for Reader Views

4 Stars: There is nothing more enjoyable than to read a book with no ‘hiccups’ in the rhythm. Well, this first book in the Piney Woods Mystery Series was a waltz. I enjoyed every moment of it and the author truly never missed a step. Read more….

—Long and Short Reviews

This story has a great vibe to it and fits the cozy mystery category perfectly. […] I would recommend this to anyone who enjoys a good cozy mystery.

—Llaph for Coffeetime Romance & More

This is the first in Trent’s series set in Piney Woods, and it bodes well for the series. As cozies go, this is not only a fun read, but it moves along quite well. She has a respectable number of characters—not so many as to confuse the reader but enough to have a growing number of possible perpetrators! This is a keeper.

—Judith Reveal for the New York Journal of Books

Teresa Trent’s recipe for an outstanding cozy mystery: A mother’s dying wish. A mysterious letter. A dutiful daughter who shows up on the doorstep of the nicest man in town. A guy who suddenly turns up dead. Mixed well with small town Texas charm and a fabulous eye for detail.

—Joanna Campbell Slan, author of the Kiki Lowenstein Mystery Series

A delightful cozy romp!

—Maggie Toussaint, author of the Dreamwalker mystery series

Die Die Blackbird

A Piney Woods Mystery

Teresa Trent


Kenmore, WA

For more information go to: www.camelpress.com www.teresatrent.com

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Cover design by Jeanne Gustafson

Die Die Blackbird Copyright ©2020 by Teresa Trent

ISBN: 9–781–603818–48–3 (Trade Paper)ISBN: 9–781–603816–40–3 (eBook)

Printed in the United States of America

To my friend Diane, our talks over books and writing never last long enough.

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 25

Acknowledgments

I

would like to

thank Dawn Dowdle, my agent, who, no matter how many mistakes I make, continues to believe in me. Parts of this journey have been difficult, and I’m lucky enough to see you looking forward, leading the way. Thank you to my publisher, Camel Press, and to the ladies of my Monday night critique group for helping me to write a better story.

Chapter 1

"D

ang it girl,

don’t bleed on the quilt!" As the pain of the needle seared through the tip of her finger, Nora Alexander knew she had just violated the cardinal rule of quilting. Never, never, never bleed on the quilt. Such an infraction among quilters had to have left at least one pioneer woman dumped off behind the wagon train heading West. That tiny drop of blood splashing onto the light-yellow triangle of fabric had subjected Nora to quilting purgatory filled with bloody thumbs and tears.

Nora’s grandmother, Rosalyn McCardle, whose snowy white hair had once matched Nora’s auburn, laid her hand gently over her granddaughter’s. Don’t worry dear. It happens to the best of us… even her. She scowled at Grace Howe, owner of the Fabracadabra Quilt Shop and issuer of the stern warning.

Grace Howe, the leader of the quilt group, snorted at Rosalyn’s words. We are four days away from the Lufkin Quilt Competition... four! We can’t ruin the quilt with bodily fluids now. Grace wore a cloth tape measure around her neck that hung down over the quilt when she applied her razor-straight running stitch. Her bifocals were balanced on the end of her nose, and she shot a gaze at Rosalyn after hearing her criticism. Nora was thankful for the calming influence her grandmother had over her. Rosalyn McCardle, a full-time resident of Shady Sunsets Assisted Living, now spent most of her time in a wheelchair but would run through hurdles where Nora was concerned. Nora’s mother had chosen not to stay in Piney Woods when she found out she was pregnant with her, never telling Nora about her family. When Nora found Rosalyn, she vowed she would never lose her again.

The throbbing in Nora’s jaw was not helping matters. She was due at the dentist tomorrow for a look-see. She would have preferred to do it all in one visit, but she had to beg to be put into his schedule. There was one other dental office in town, a new franchise called The Happy Smiley Dentist, but Nora had a hard time imagining herself at a dentist who used an emoji in their logo. She rubbed her cheek.

It’s the tooth, right? Arnette Cooper said as she stood at the makeshift ironing board pressing out seams. Arnette almost always accompanied Nora’s grandmother. She worked at Shady Sunsets even though she no longer needed the money. I’ll be living there soon enough, she told Nora once. Besides, that’s where all my friends are.

Yes. I should never have let it get this bad, Nora answered.

Sorry, I’m late, Marcia Allman rushed into the conference room at the Tunie Hotel throwing her cowskin purse under the table. Laurelynn called and said her club was running late at school, so I took the opportunity to catch up on my paperwork.

How is everything at Bottom Line Accounting? Rosalyn asked. Even at Rosalyn’s age, she had a keen mind for details.

Marcia sighed. Everything’s great. We’re ahead of schedule, and my boss is happy. Even with her outward appearance, Marcia was excellent at her job, showing a business acumen no one expected. Marcia pulled a headband out of her bag and pushed shaggy blond curls from her eyes and then looped a pocketed sewing apron around her neck that said Quilters Never Grow Old. They Just Go to Pieces. She picked up her needle. Where should I start?

Grace gestured toward a section on the right side of the quilt. Start over there. This pattern is extremely intricate. Be sure to follow the stitching lines and no straying. Marcia walked over next to Nora who was hunting for scissors to cut a thread. The late arrival handed her a pair of fine dressmaking scissors. Here. Use mine.

Nora eyed the heavy-duty silver scissors. M.A. was etched on one of the blades. They looked sharp and like Marcia, well-qualified for the job. They are so nice. I hate to use them.

I paid a pretty penny for them, that’s for sure. These are the finest dressmaking scissors you can buy on the market. Don’t be afraid of them. Go ahead.

Nora took the scissors and snipped the thread, while the pleasant rhythm of a sewing machine hummed in the background. Tatty Tovar, the owner of the Piney Woods Bed &Breakfast, was busy machine piecing their next quilt top. Their future project would feature the classic double wedding ring pattern whose intricate curves had graced many a newlywed’s first bed. Grace had cautioned against pressing the pieces right away because they would not be as flexible, making the curved part difficult to assemble. Luckily, the quilt they were currently working on was much simpler with a myriad of colors against a black background.

Nora set the scissors on a sideboard behind the quilt and then tried to stitch the tiny straight stitches she now observed Marcia doing effortlessly. Watching Marcia’s hand too closely and not her own, Nora misjudged the insertion point of the needle and pricked her finger. Grace shouted from across the table, Good God woman, you’re a menace to finely sewn cotton. Stand away from the quilt. Nora put her needle down and did as she was told. From the quilt shop owner’s disgusted tone, she had to wonder if Grace’s next words would be… and no one gets hurt.

I’m sorry. I guess I’m not much of a quilter, Nora admitted holding onto her stabbed finger.

The Fredericks sisters, Azalea and Violet, who had been putting their needles in and out of the quilt in tandem both nodded. Azalea muttered, Fumble thumbs.

Maybe you could cut some material for the flying geese quilt? Rosalyn suggested.

Yes, let’s give her a bigger, sharper thing, Violet Fredericks said in exactly the same voice as her sister.

Nora had agreed to let the Piney Woods Stitchers use the conference room after they were kicked out of Saint Andrew’s for the more profitable bingo night in their fellowship. Always wanting to share the hospitality of the Tunie Hotel with the community, she welcomed the group on a temporary basis. She also felt a need to offer the space at the Tunie because not only was her landlady in the bunch, but she couldn’t let down her own grandmother. Once they were on the schedule, Nora entertained the idea of joining them. Her grandmother had a beautiful quilt of red and gold on her bed, and Nora loved it. Quilting was simply sewing a running stitch in a straight line. Anyone could do that, right? She had no idea quilting could be so stressful.

How’s that man of yours? Azalea asked, a flush coming to her angular face. Nora’s boyfriend, Tuck Watson, was a handsome guy and Azalea’s lingering stares had not gone unnoticed. Tuck had no idea what was going on. He thought she was a nice wacky old lady with a twin who finished her sentences. Nora was surprised Azalea’s glasses weren’t steaming up every time he walked into the room.

He’s fine.

Azalea gave a deep smile as if to say, I’ll just bet he is.

Violet joined her sister and chimed in. I’m so glad we have such an incredible man in blue around here. I feel safer when I get in bed at night thinking about him…uh… being out there. They stood shoulder to shoulder with their hands in the same position over their hearts. Violet and Azalea were identical twins, never married and always… always together.

Marcia, who had been quietly stitching since her late arrival stirred from her concentration when her phone began chirping at her feet. She grabbed it out of her bag, punched it on and began to listen. From the scowl on her face, it didn’t take long to figure out it was not good news.

What do you mean you can’t get there? It’s our daughter for goodness’ sake…She called you, not me… okay… the police called you. I can’t help it that she listed you as the first parent to call… An angry sound emanated from her throat. Fine. Don’t worry about it. I’ll pick her up. Tapping the call off, Marcia threw the phone back in her purse and rose from the quilt in progress.

Sorry, ladies. I have to go, she said, removing her apron and stuffing it into her bag.

I hope everything is alright? Is Lauralynn okay? On one level Azalea sounded caring, but on another Nora was sure she was getting the scoop to ignite the town gossips.

Sure, she is. I’m happy to report the cops think she’ll be sober in an hour or two, Marcia answered.

Nora stepped forward. I thought she was at some sort of school thing.

Didn’t we all. Since the divorce, Lauralynn has been nothing but trouble, and this is the worst thing yet.

Feeling she was no longer allowed to quilt anyway, Nora walked Marcia out of the conference room. I’m so sorry. If there’s anything I can do, let me know, okay?

Marcia’s mouth trembled a bit. I just might take you up on that. Sometimes, I feel like I’ve been a single parent all Lauralynn’s life, even when I was married to Butch.

When Nora opened the glass lobby door, she was greeted by a cloudy November night, and as much as she was enjoying the cooler weather, her mind was elsewhere. She had always thought having a child would be wonderful. Listening to the cautionary tale of Lauralynn Allman, it didn’t seem quite as enticing as an adorable baby. Unfortunately, babies turned into teenagers.

When Nora returned to the conference room intending to tell the quilters she would be spending her time at the front desk, the chatter was centered around Marcia.

Honestly, I don’t know why that woman has even tried to be a member of this group, Grace said, her lips pressed together. First, she shows up late and then she leaves early.

Tatty looked up from the sewing machine, pulling out a pin that she had held between her lips. Come on Grace. That woman quilts better than all of us put together, you included. She told me her grandmother taught her how to quilt and even though she has some difficult things happening in her life, quilting has always been a form of therapy for her. She is exactly the kind of person who needs to be in this group.

Grace harrumphed. That’s all fine and well, but we’re trying to complete this quilt for the competition in Lufkin, and we’re already behind schedule. I’m not here to provide some sort of pseudo-psychological hippy therapy. If we don’t have it finished on time, we can’t exhibit it. This is very important to both me and my shop.

My goodness, Rosalyn said raising an eyebrow. It sounds like making this quilt is all about your store. I would hate to think that we are putting in this much hard work just to increase fabric sales and enrollment in quilting classes at Fabricadabra. Arnette nodded in agreement with her old friend.

Not in the least. It’s just that when I thought about creating this quilt group, I thought that the women that would be involved would be of the same... caliber of most of the quilters I’ve worked with in the past.

Trying to keep out the poor-white-trash quilters? Rosalyn asked. At her age, she didn’t waste time getting to the point.

Grace tied a knot and snipped the thread with the efficiency of a Marine assembling a rifle. I am not even going to acknowledge that statement, but as long as we’re on the subject, she is married to one of the most notorious criminals in Piney Woods.

Was married, Arnette reminded Grace.

Fine. Everybody knows that her ex uses that garage of his as a front to deal drugs to the desperate persons of East Texas. Now we have to put up with that criminal element in our quilting group.

Marsha’s husband was involved with drugs? Nora wondered if Tuck was aware of that? Tuck didn’t discuss much of his day-to-day business if it didn’t directly involve her. He preferred to talk about other things and lately it was the idea of their moving in together. She spent so many nights at his neatly kept ranch home already, that moving her things in would be easy. She loved the view from his kitchen window that showcased the area’s pine trees. It was a restful place for her, and she loved spending every moment she could with Tuck. For the last year-and-a-half, she had lived with Tatty and Ed Tovar at the Piney Woods Bed and Breakfast. Tatty and Ed had become like family to her and moving out would be emotionally difficult. Moving in with Tuck was a big step, and there was just something holding her back from making the commitment. She had never thought of herself as prudish, but something was stopping her.

Poppycock, Grace. You have absolutely no proof that Butch Allman is dealing drugs out of his garage, Roslyn said shaking her head.

Azalea raised her chin and looked down her thin nose. I heard he was knee-deep in the dark and sinister criminal world.

Me too, Violet echoed. Everybody knows it.

Grace Howe smiled with satisfaction at the Fredericks sister’s support and waved her hand over the rest of the quilters to emphasize her point. Don’t believe me, Rosalyn McCardle. Just ask the rest of the town.

Even with this kind of information floating around, Nora still liked Marcia Allman and couldn’t believe that she would ever be involved in anything of that sort. For Marcia’s sake, she hoped what Grace was saying wasn’t true. Because she was fairly new to Piney Woods, she thought of it as a picturesque little town in East Texas. Hearing about gangs and drugs shattered that Mayberry reality.

Uh, I think I’ll leave you ladies to it, Nora said as she backed out of the conference room.

Good, Grace said flatly. Bleeders make lousy quilters.

now free of

her responsibilities of the quilting group, Nora checked on Dominic Fazio at the front desk. He had agreed to take her shift tonight so that she could attend the quilting group. Marty wanted to quilt too but was busy helping Max, their night auditor, study for his upcoming bar exam. Max had been studying online for his law degree for the last couple of years and now was slated to take the Barbary course in Dallas in February. This would be his final preparation for his law degree, and