Murder at the Woods: A Molly Tinker Mystery

By Misty Reddington

A humorous mystery, Molly and her big poodle help the police hunt a killer, finding another body under the evergreen tree on the hill.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu Publishing Services
• Release date: Jun 21, 2013
• ISBN: 9781483401744

Book preview

Murder

at the Woods

A Molly Tinker Mystery

image_253.jpg

Misty Reddington

Copyright © 2013 Misty Reddington.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored, or transmitted by any means—whether auditory, graphic, mechanical, or electronic—without written permission of both publisher and author, except in the case of brief excerpts used in critical articles and reviews. Unauthorized reproduction of any part of this work is illegal and is punishable by law.

ISBN: 978-1-4834-0120-1 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4834-0174-4 (e)

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Lulu Publishing Services rev. date: 5/29/2013

Contents

Prologue: September

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty One

Chapter Twenty Two

Chapter Twenty Three

Chapter Twenty Four

Chapter Twenty Five

Chapter Twenty Six

Chapter Twenty Seven

Chapter Twenty Eight

Chapter Twenty Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty One

Chapter Thirty Two

Chapter Thirty Three

Chapter Thirty Four

Chapter Thirty Five

Chapter Thirty Six

Chapter Thirty Seven

Chapter Thirty Eight

Chapter Thirty Nine

Chapter Forty

Chapter Forty One

Chapter Forty Two

Chapter Forty Three

Chapter Forty Four

Chapter Forty Five

Chapter Forty Six

Chapter Forty Seven

Chapter Forty Eight

Chapter Forty Nine

Chapter Fifty

Chapter Fifty One

Chapter Fifty Two

To Toby

Do I want to wound him or kill him?

Prologue: September

Pull the trigger, Jon said, shouting at me over the noise.

I took aim at the little round man. The bullet went somewhere over his head.

Try again, Jon said. In an hour, you’ll be hitting the little guy’s heart.

I pointed the revolver and shot five more times at the paper target.

Congratulations, Molly, Jon said. You killed him.

If he had brains, they’d be flying in the wind.

If you ever have to use the gun, you’ll probably have to shoot the guy from ten or fifteen feet.

Then it’s guaranteed I’ll hit him.

You’ll have to decide if you want to wound the guy, or kill him.

Chapter One

I can’t believe it’s almost Thanksgiving, I said to my cousin, Jon.

It was Sunday morning and he was driving me in his new SUV, an eleven-year-old Chevy with a deep sunset-red paint job that practically glowed in the early November sunshine. We were on our way to pick up a bag of Purina for Tinker, my standard poodle, at a chain pet store, and Jon insisted that we take his SUV instead of my old decrepit VW Bug.

What are you going to cook this year? Jon said.

After last year’s creamed-onions disaster, I don’t think our mothers want me to cook anything.

Your mother gave you cooking lessons this past summer, Jon said.

She didn’t show me how to make anything that goes with turkey.

You can’t open a can of something and mix it with some other can of something? Jon said.

What are you cooking?

I can’t cook.

I glanced at Jon, and I saw myself in his red hair and green eyes and freckles, but I’m ten years older and female.

So what are you going to bring? Jon said.

I think I’ll bring an ice cream pie.

I’ll pay for half of it.

A deal, I said, smiling and stretching my legs. As I did so, I kicked a paper bag. I leaned over and glanced inside. Coke cans and a gun?

I’m practicing with Dad’s .22 in the woods at Travis Lake, Jon said. It’s deserted this time of year. During the week, no one’s around.

You’re really serious about being a cop?

It’s the only thing I really want to be.

Chapter Two

Eric, my blonde hunk of a husband, and I were sitting on the couch with Tinker cuddled between us, watching the last few minutes of the African Queen. It was Sunday afternoon, and the day had become cold and overcast. All three of us were ready for a late afternoon nap.

Our plans changed when Eric answered his cell phone.

What’s up? he said, listening. I’ll meet him at the lake in fifteen minutes.

I looked at Eric’s face, and he didn’t look happy.

Police business? I said.

The minister at the Methodist Church and his youth group were hiking in the woods near Travis Lake.

He paused.

They found a dead body.

That must have been pretty traumatic for the kids, I said.

Eric put on his parka. I don’t know when I’ll be back tonight.

Maybe I’ll go with you.

I thought you were going to take a nap?

I’m always interested in helping you solve a murder, I said, smiling.

What about dinner?

I’d planned on having hot soup.

Don’t you need some time to fix it?

Tomato soup out of a can, I said. Let me grab my parka.

Eric drove his Chevy truck into the parking lot by the lake. Walt Sweeney walked across the dirt to meet us. He was dressed in a navy wool coat and heavy winter gloves. He took off his right glove and shook Eric’s hand.

Thanks for coming, Walt said. Hello, Molly.

We shook hands.

Where’s the rest of your group? Eric said.

My assistant drove the kids back to town in the van. They were pretty upset.

How old are they? I said.

They’re eleven and twelve year olds, too young to find a dead body in the woods.

No one’s old enough to find a dead body, I said.

Walt turned towards the lake. Follow me.

Eric and I followed him into a wooded area close by the water. Most of the birch and elm and maple trees still held some fall foliage, but we traipsed through a fair amount of soggy leaves and other forest debris, accumulated over lifetimes. Walt entered a clearing and stopped. I looked about forty feet in front of me at some guy, crumpled in a heap near a rotting tree limb.

He definitely looked dead.

I noticed the body before we entered the clearing, Walt said. So our footprints stop where we’re standing now. I didn’t want to contaminate the crime scene.

You watch police shows on television? I said.

I read a lot of crime novels, Walt said. He looks too young to have died of natural causes, so I assumed he’d been murdered.

Eric took out his cell phone and called dispatch. I need forensics and the medical examiner, out at Travis Lake.

Eric turned towards me. Molly, will you meet them in the parking lot?

I’ll go back with you, Walt said. I’ve had enough of the woods for one day.

Why don’t you both drive back to town in the Chevy and I’ll catch a ride with Willie when we’re finished here, Eric said.

As Walt and I turned to go, Eric pulled a pair of crime-scene gloves from his parka pocket and headed towards the body.

I was eating my second bowl of tomato soup, dipping French bread into it, when Eric came in the kitchen.

Tinker was sleeping under the table.

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