A Senior Moment Mysteries Series

By Carla Kulka

If you like love stories, mysteries, and a sense of humor, you will love Carla’s mysteries. She gives you a gentle, romantic love story of two senior citizens with a touch of humor, adding bits of happy memories from her life and a murder mystery to solve.

Past Pleasures book one

Cassandra loves going to antique shops. During h

• Language: English
• Publisher: Black Lacquer Press & Marketing Inc.
• Release date: Dec 2, 2019
• ISBN: 9781951313166

Carla Kulka

Carla Kulka, author of A Senior Moment Mystery series, has come out with another series called A Senior Moment Soap Opera. Her first series was a healing process after the loss of her husband, Gary. She thought of all the good memories she had and made them into a tender senior love story. Now, she is bringing a series to those that love to read and love soap operas. In this series you may even find a little laughter along the way.

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Copyright © 2019 by Carla Kulka.

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This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the author’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

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Past

Pleasures

A Senior Moment Mystery

Book 1

Carla Kulka

Past Pleasures

Pleasant Dreams

Lost Pleasures

Precious Love

Perfect Love Blooms

Prologue

Tonight is going to be a terrific night for me. I’m going to Frank’s house. I know Bradley will be there, and they will be partying as usual. Frank’s place is the place to celebrate, I always say. Tonight I have something to celebrate for a change.

Sure enough, there the two of them are, drinking as usual.

So, guys, starting the party without me? I’m celebrating my liberation tonight.

Okay, here’s to Tony’s liberation. So let’s drink up, buddy. Like we even need a reason—right, Bradley?

You know it, Frank. A shot of whiskey for all of us. Let’s keep it coming. Let the good times get better.

Give me another, Frank. How about you, Bradley?

Sure thing, Tony!

So, Tony, tell Frank and me why you are in such a partying mood tonight.

"I finally am celebrating my liberation from my father. I’m so tired of living in this stinking town and working for my father at his stupid jewelry store. ‘Someday this shop will be yours,’ he tells me. I don’t want anything to do with Angelo’s Fine Jewels. Nothing I ever do pleases him. My father is always telling me, ‘Tony, you’ll never get anywhere if you don’t have a plan for the future. You need to be ambitious instead of wasting your time away.’

"How can I feel ambitious when he doesn’t even pay me a decent wage, guys? I’m young, and I want to hang around with my buddies rather than working all the time for hardly any money. I think he loves those precious diamonds more than he does me.

Guess what? My old man is going to have the shock of his life. You see, Frank and Bradley, I do have future plans. It’s a great plan, and I’ve got the ambition it takes to make it possible. When I do this great plan, it will destroy him and make me rich enough that I won’t have to waste my life working for that old man of mine.

Tell Bradley and me your plans, Tony. How are you going to get back at your man? Have another drink while you’re at it.

Sure, why not. Like I said, I’m celebrating tonight with my buds.

So what is this great plan of yours? asks Bradley.

It’s terrific. Come on, guys. Aren’t you going to drink with me? For once, I think I’m downing more shots than you are.

Come on, Tony. You’ve got us revved, man. What’s the big plan? coaxes Frank.

So, guys ... do you ever despise your dad enough to want to destroy him? Well, I do. Tomorrow when I steal his precious little diamonds, I will destroy him and make me stinking rich. I will be out of this wretched town and not have to work in his stinking jewelry shop ever again.

Wow! You really do hate your old man. You’re going to let Brad and me in on this plan of yours, aren’t you, Tony?

Of course he is, Frank. Our buddy would not want to be partying around the rest of his life without his buddies. Would you, Tony? If not, we can always tell your old man what you’re planning on doing.

What? You wouldn’t do that, would you? I thought you guys were my buddies. I got to do this on my own. I was just bragging to you guys. You can’t turn this around on me.

Have another drink, Tony.

I can’t, man. I’m not feeling so good.

Tony, we are your partners now, and you better share with us, or you will never be able to succeed with your plan. Got it? Right, Brad?

I’m with you, Frank.

So are Bradley and I in, Tony? Your choice.

Bragging to them about what I was planning to do to my father was a huge mistake because now there is a kink in my plan. There is no way that I am going to let those two bullies be part of this.

How could Frank and Bradley even ask me to give them a cut of the diamonds when I am the one taking all the risks? All I have to do is change my plans a little, and they will get nothing.

I will do everything as planned, but after I steal the diamonds, I will hide them. I know the perfect place. Recently, I overheard my ignorant father talking to an elderly couple, the Simpsons, about the vacation they are going on. Their old house will be empty, and it will be a great place to hide the diamonds. The basement is full of antiques. Often I pass their house and see them moving the plant on the front porch to get their house key. How lucky for me and how unlucky for them!

There is so much junk in that basement that I can hide it in one of their antiques and in a few weeks ask them if I can buy the item as a gift for my mother. She loves antiques, and no one will ever figure out why I am really buying the item, the hidden diamonds. I will just lay low for a while and then move away. Frank and Bradley will just think that I finally had enough of my father.

The next morning, I am ready to set my plan into place. This is the day of getting back at my father and those two jerks, Frank and Bradley.

My father has just left the jewelry shop to go home. This is the moment I have been waiting for. I grab the rare diamonds and make it look as though someone has broken in through the backdoor to the shop. That crazy fool father of mine never wanted to spend his precious money to install an alarm system or good locks. Now he will be sorry that he never did.

It’s raining like crazy and very gloomy. Only an idiot would be out in this weather because of the visibility. Well, I guess that makes me an idiot because it probably is the best time for me to make my plan work.

I get to the Simpsons’, run to the basement, and find the perfect hiding place for the diamonds. After I leave their house, I am just about to the spot where I have planned to drive the car off the road and down an embankment into a bunch of trees. After all, I have to make it look like someone had the opportunity to rob me.

Things are working perfectly to this point. I am almost to the spot I have chosen when some maniac starts trying to run me off the road. Not now, please. I need to do this my way. Leave me alone! They follow me down the winding road, and I now start going over the edge.

No, no, no. Stop please!

Over the hill I go until my car stops at the bottom of the ravine. As I lay at the bottom, I feel the pain of my broken body. Through glazed eyes, I see Frank and Bradley. Thank God they are here to help me.

Help, help!

They aren’t even trying to help me. They’re searching for the diamonds. They must have been in the car that edged me off the road. My great plans are ruined. I just want to live. I am only eighteen, and I can feel the life leaving my body. How can they only be interested in finding the diamonds?

As I am drifting in and out of consciousness, Frank and Bradley are getting angrier because they can’t find the diamonds.

Just tell us where the diamonds are, and we’ll get you help, Frank screams.

At this point, all I have enough breath to say is Antique bird.

I hear one of them say, Let’s get out of here before someone sees us. This runt is at the end of his rope anyway.

When I see them walking away from me, I can’t believe they are going to leave me here to die. I now realize we were never friends, just someone they loved to bully. I think to myself, my father was right. I am a screw-up, and I never amounted to anything.

Chapter 1

There is nothing I enjoy more than my morning coffee on the front porch while watching the hummingbirds. They are amusing to watch as they go about their daily routines, scurrying to and from the feeder as they hover to lick up the sweet water. They fly in and out so quickly; they look as though they are going to run into each other.

My name is Cassandra Cooper. Most people call me Cassie.

My husband passed away over ten years ago. I met him when I was sixteen years old and in a very unusual way.

My parents had a CB radio. Back in those days, people used them to meet people. Everyone could hear your conversation, and they might join in on your conversations. My mother had been talking with a young guy on a CB radio. He lived close to us, and she invited him to stop over sometime. She must have told him she had two teenage daughters because when he came, he brought his friend. His friend asked me to play tennis with him.

I’ve never played tennis before, only badminton.

That’s okay. I’ll teach you. You’ll do good, I’m sure.

Sounds good to me. I would enjoy learning.

Let’s go then.

We really had a great time together. We talked a lot about school. He was big on electronics. He worked as a disc jockey at a local radio station after school and on weekends. He was extremely nice and had the most beautiful blue eyes. We stopped at local drive-in hamburger joint after playing tennis. I really liked him. Obviously, he wanted me to go out again, and I could hardly say no after the great time with him.

I didn’t realize it at the time, but I had just met my future husband.

My boyfriend at the time was a year ahead of me in school and happened to sit next to my sister in study hall. My sister mentioned the tennis date to him.

I hear from your sister that you played tennis with some guy last night. If you are going to do things with someone other than me, I won’t be too happy about it. You need to make a choice—him or me?

Him or you? Let me think!

Needless to say, it wasn’t much of a choice to make. I never have been one to go with people who give me ultimatums.

Who would have thought that going out to play tennis with someone would have led to a wonderful marriage of almost thirty-three years and three children? I have so many wonderful memories to look back on, with not only the love of my life but my best friend.

I wish my husband and I had more years together, but sometimes things always don’t go the way we want them to. Rather than dwell on something that can’t ever be changed, I choose to think only about the memories we shared together. After all, I have learned your day is only what you make it.

Life is very different now that I am a widow. It is hard to explain the feeling of that loss to someone who hasn’t gone through it. Most of us get through that grief period after some time. Like many other widows and widowers, I miss having that special someone to share the rest of my life with.

As I sip my coffee while reading the newspaper, I notice that a new antique shop recently opened on Market Street, about fifteen miles away. The shop is called Past Pleasures. What a terrific name for a shop that has items that used to give people pleasure in the past.

I enjoy looking at antiques because they bring back such good memories. Often I find things that I just have to bring home to add to my collection. I didn’t have any plans set for today, and this sounds like a lot of fun. If I hurry and leave soon, I might even beat the expected early-afternoon rain. Just in case, I’d better grab an umbrella to take along.

With purse and umbrella in hand, I head out to the new antique shop, Past Pleasures. I hear gas prices are going up, so I better stop and get gas on my way. Prices for everything seem to be rising, so you have to save every penny when you can.

As I approach Market Street, there are many shops—yarn shops, fabric shops, furniture shops, almost everything imaginable. It’s a delightful shopping place for almost anyone’s interest.

While looking down the row of shops, I find a sign that reads Past Pleasures. There was a parking space about three shops away, in front of Tina’s Teas and Treats, a great place for me to have some lunch after browsing the antique shop.

The outside of Past Pleasures makes the shop very inviting. Beautiful ferns hang above a small antique table and chairs. A silk flower arrangement has been placed on top of an antique, delicately crocheted tablecloth.

When I enter Past Pleasures, a chime sounds, announcing my presence. It is a delightful shop, neatly organized and very relaxing, with old music playing for shopping pleasure.

Good morning and welcome to my shop, Past Pleasures! says a thin, silver-haired man who looks to be in his late sixties. He is only about five foot three inches and has a great smile.

Good morning, sir! It’s so nice to see an antique shop in the area. The closest antique places are at least forty minutes away. I like the name you chose too. It’s so appropriate for this type of shop.

Thank you. Are you here to browse, or are you looking for something in particular?

"Not really anything in particular. I just love looking at antiques. I happened to see in the Martinsville Post that you had opened and thought I would check out the shop. Are you the owner?"

Yes, I am. My late wife, God rest her soul, and I enjoyed collecting antiques for a good many years. Plus, we inherited a large collection of antiques from her brother’s years of collecting antiques. It has always been a dream of mine to have my own antique shop. After my wife passed away, I didn’t know what to do with my time, so I thought it was time to make that dream come true. Believe me; if some of these antiques could talk, they would probably have a lot of good stories to tell us. I’m sorry. Here I am, babbling on. I guess I should introduce myself. My name is Marcus Anderson. And you are?

Mr. Anderson’s voice is very soft, and he seems to have somewhat of an accent.

I’m Cassandra Cooper, Mr. Anderson. Everyone calls me Cassie. It’s such a pleasure to meet you.

It’s a pleasure to meet you, Cassie. I appreciate you coming to see Past Pleasures. Feel free to browse and enjoy yourself. If you need any help, please let me know.

Thank you, Marcus. I’ll do that.

As I make my way down the aisles, I see many items that bring back a flood of wonderful memories from my childhood. One is an old Singer sewing machine like the one my mother used to make matching dresses for my sister and me. Although my mother never taught me how to make clothing, she did teach me how to do embroidery. There are piles of embroidered pillowcases just like the ones I made.

There are lots of beautiful linens. All are embellished with dainty, embroidered flowers in assorted colors of floss. There are seed stitches, back stitching, flowers, leaf, and other kinds of stitches to give them their beauty.

Beautifully embroidered tablecloths, dresser scarves, and ladies’ hankies with colorful crocheted edges are in abundance. Painted fruits and flowers adorn kitchen towels and tablecloths.

As I admire their craftsmanship, I think of the hours of tedious work that went into making them. Many of their patterns are pineapples and hearts.

Knitted baby sweaters hang on tiny plastic hangers. My aunt taught me how to knit, and to this day I still love knitting. I remember she made such beautiful sweaters for her daughter. I loved going to her house and sitting on her front porch and knitting with her. She must have loved to cook because she always smelled like vegetable soup.

There are many hand-sewn baptism gowns, dresses, and coats that were once worn by a precious child and sewn by a loved one. Also, there is an abundance of baby hats for wee ones, both knitted and fabric, and some hand-smocked are in stacks.

One year, my mother made my sister and me matching outfits for Easter. To this day, I still remember those little brown-and-white checked gingham dresses with matching coats that she made us. We felt very special wearing these outfits with our little Easter bonnets, adorned with petite pastel flowers.

As I approach the quilts, I am in awe. Each of these quilts is unique in its workmanship. These take many hours to piece together by hand and then hand quilt with tiny stitches. This adds to their durability and loveliness.

Favorite patterns were used, such as Log Cabin made of different length of strips of different calico prints, and others like Ohio Star, Flying Geese, Blazing Star, Dresden Plate, Spools, Yo-Yo, Cathedral Window, Postage Stamp, Drunkard’s Path, Sunbonnet Sue, and Wedding Ring were made of triangle, square, and other shaped cuts of calico print fabrics, giving them their names. The Wedding Ring pattern is definitely one of my favorites. Many mothers, daughters, cousins, and family friends would gather to quilt as they enjoyed visiting with one another. Often times these precious quilts of warmth and love were passed down to family members.

Seeing these items makes me think of the wonderful women in my life that made me take a piece of cloth, yarn, or other items and make them into something priceless.

As I continue my stroll through Past Pleasures, I see that two rows are filled with fine china teacups, saucers, and teapots reminiscent of happy times shared together with conversation. I can visualize family and friends spending hours socializing as they drink refreshments from these lovely items.

When I was first married, we couldn’t afford much. I enjoyed making things for our home to give it a homey atmosphere. We were happy, and my husband was impressed with my ability to make our house a home. Many of the linens, quilts, pillowcases, and so forth are similar to the items I made for us.

When I come along a row of china teacups and teapots, it brings back memories of my aunt Sophia, who gave me a beautiful teapot when she came to visit. To this day, it is one of my prized possessions.

At the end of these two rows of dishes is an old hand-crank ice-cream maker. When I was a child, we would go to Sunday ice-cream socials at local churches and have the best hand-churned ice-cream. It would be served with a delicious slice of fluffy, moist, homemade cake. No one back then made boxed cakes. Those were surely good times.

There are many beautiful items in Past Pleasures. I don’t know how people ever let go of so many of these items.

Down the next aisle, something in particular catches my eye. As I walk closer, I see that it is an enchanting little trinket box with a hummingbird perched on a branch atop the cover. This hummingbird looks so lifelike in the way that it is placed on the branch and the coloring. I don’t know how the artist could have created it so perfectly to replicate a real hummingbird. The hand-carved piece is absolutely exquisite and has very detailed workmanship. The price of the box is marked as fifty-five dollars. That seems like a fair price for such an intricate piece. I know exactly where I will put this little box if I purchase it. I have a curio with bird figurines, especially hummingbird antiques that I have found.

From experience, I know that whenever I start picturing where I would put something in my home, I generally end up buying the item. I take note of which aisle the trinket box is in and continue my way through the final aisles.

The last few aisles have many beautiful fur coats, collars, and gorgeous antique hats that women wore long ago as their usual daily wardrobe when going out. These hats are adorned with lovely satin flowers, feathers, ribbons, and netted veils, among other items.

At the end of the rows is a large room full of old furniture made of the best quality of oak, cherry, and maple. The settees, beds, dressers, and dining sets are unique because of their beautiful carvings. The flowers, scrolling, and other carvings make them unique. This furniture is so cherished because of its workmanship; many were passed down from generation to generation. They truly don’t make furniture of this high quality anymore.

Some of these furniture items contain wicker, which is very common in chairs. To this day, I still have two items that I treasure. One of them is a wicker and wood highchair with iron wheels. It actually can pull down into a stroller. This was my father-in-law’s when he was a baby. The other item is a woven reed bassinette that was used by both my sister and me.

Many items in this antique world bring thoughts of a time that was not as fast paced as today’s world. People actually enjoyed taking time to make things for relaxation and to make a thing of beauty.

When I have finally looked at—and I might add admired—everything in Past Pleasures, I return to the aisle with the hummingbird trinket box to retrieve it for my purchase. I carefully carry the resting hummingbird to the front of the shop where Marcus, the owner, is pricing items on a cart.

I see you found something special, Marcus says.

I just couldn’t resist taking it home with me. The workmanship is of such high quality; it looks as though the hummingbird might take off in flight any moment. I enjoy watching hummingbirds at my feeder in my yard, which is probably why this piece caught my eye.

I hand Marcus sixty dollars for my purchase, and he hands me back my change. He carefully wraps my hummingbird trinket box in tissue paper before placing it in a bag with the store name, Past Pleasures.

You made a great purchase, Cassie. This bird is really beautiful, isn’t it? Do you collect birds, or is this your first one?

Yes, I do collect birds, but I only have a few hummingbird figurines. I love sitting on my porch and watching the hummingbirds at my feeder. What about you, Marcus?

Some of the bird figurines were part of my wife’s personal collection. This one she especially loved. I’m moving into a smaller place now that my wife is gone, and I need to downsize a little.

I can see why your wife loved it, Marcus. I will put it in my curio cabinet to keep it safe.

Thank you, Cassie. Here is your receipt. Would you be able to put your name and address in this book so I can notify you if I get more beautiful figurines in?

I would be happy to do so!

Thank you! It was such a pleasure to meet you, Cassie, and I hope this hummingbird brings you many hours of pleasure. Please stop back and visit Past Pleasures another time.

I certainly will, Marcus. I really enjoyed your shop and wish you much success.

As I am exiting the shop, before I can make my way entirely out of the door, a young man rushes into the entrance of Past Pleasures, knocking me almost into the table and chairs sitting outside. He doesn’t stop to see if I am all right or to apologize for almost knocking me down. I can’t believe how rude he is for not waiting until I fully exited the door. He must be in some big hurry.

I am now getting hungry, so I walk over to the shop I noticed when I pulled up, Tina’s Teas and Treats. As I walk into the restaurant, I am taken back by how nicely it is decorated. Ecru valances are above the windows, with matching table covers placed under glass to spare any soiling of the cloths. The wallpaper has little teapots and saucers. Even the centerpieces on the tables are teapots. What amazes me is how sparkling clean and charming the place looks. The servers wear ecru aprons, and their name tags are shaped like teacups. The room smells of wonderful, fragrant teas, bakery items, and soups.

Since becoming a widow, one thing I do not enjoy is eating alone. Meals are not only a time to be nourished but also for discussing daily events, thoughts, and plans.

After looking over Tina’s Teas and Treats menu, I approach the counter to order a peach iced tea, chicken salad croissant, and strawberry pretzel salad.

I made great choices, for everything is extremely tasty. The iced tea is very refreshing. It is a humid summer day, and I can tell that it was freshly brewed. When I finish lunch, I discard my empty containers in the trash bin and am ready to leave for home, thinking of the splendid day I’ve had.

As I step outside, I notice it is starting to sprinkle. This brings to my attention that I do not have my umbrella. I step back into the diner and glance over at the table where I had been sitting to see if I might have left my umbrella on the table or a chair. Unfortunately, no umbrella! I wonder if I placed it on the counter at the antique shop when I was purchasing the trinket box. I quickly run to Past Pleasures to see if I left my missing umbrella there.

Just as before, when I enter, the chime announces my entrance. I don’t see Marcus anywhere in the front part of the store. Nor do I see the rude young man that almost knocked me over. However, I do see my umbrella laying on the counter. I apparently placed it there while paying for the hummingbird trinket box, just as I expected. I stand there for a couple of minutes, hoping Marcus will return to the front so that he knows that I came back for it and someone else didn’t walk away with it.

When Marcus still doesn’t come, I think he might not have heard the chime on the door when I entered. I go to the door to reopen it and close it in order to make the chime sound again.

The chime sounds, but still no one appears.

Marcus, I call in a fairly loud voice, hoping he will hear me and come to the front.

I hear no reply at all from the shop owner, so I walk to the back of the shop and once again yell his name and begin looking for him. I approach a partially opened door at the back of the shop and figure he might be in that room. I slowly push the door open so I won’t startle him.

The door comes to a stop as if something is blocking it from opening any wider. Looking down at the floor, I see a pool of blood running toward my shoes.

As I try to step out of the path of the blood seeping toward my shoe, my worst fear is confirmed. The kind gentleman, Marcus, is lying on the floor, facedown in a pool of blood. I bend down and feel his pulse to see if he is still alive. I am so frightened I don’t know if I should run or scream. I’m not sure at this point if I can even scream. Then suddenly, I wonder if whoever did this is still in the shop. I quietly turn my attention to my surroundings and slowly look around the room for any movement.

I think about what has happened in such a short time. This friendly gentleman finally had the opportunity to make his dream come true of having his own antique shop, and now he’s dead on this old wood floor. I am so petrified I can hardly find my phone with my fumbling hands as I continue to look around and make sure someone isn’t in the room. Finally, my fingers press 911.

Every moment is a treasure!

Chapter 2

The police respond quickly to my 911 phone call, although it seems like an eternity to me as I wait with the now dead Marcus Anderson.

The police take me upfront of the antique shop to sit until the sergeant can talk to me. The police tape off the area at the front of the antique shop. Police are searching the shop thoroughly for anyone hiding, and I can see the medical examiner in the small room where Marcus was murdered. There are many law enforcement officers, including someone taking pictures.

A tall, handsome man in a gray suit stands talking to one of his officers, who is pointing in my direction. Within a few minutes, the tall, very good-looking man, with the most beautiful, dreamy blue eyes and graying hair, walks toward me.

Hello, Mrs. Cooper! My name is Sergeant John Monroe. The officer was telling me that you are the lady that found Mr. Anderson.

The sergeant is holding a paper and pen in his hand and smiles. I notice his dimples and that his voice is deep and compassionate.

May I ask you a few questions?

Certainly. I’ll try to help in any way that I can, Sergeant. I am a bit nervous about finding Mr. Anderson.

Sergeant Monroe sits down on the chair beside me.

I understand how this is upsetting. Please take your time, Mrs. Cooper. If you need to stop for any reason, please let me know. Let’s start with your full name, please?

That would be Cassandra Jo Cooper.

After giving him my home address and phone number, he asks me the obvious question.

Were you in the shop when Mr. Anderson was murdered?

No, I wasn’t. I returned to the shop after eating lunch because I had forgotten my umbrella here on the counter. That’s when I searched for him and found the poor man murdered.

Did you happen to see anyone exiting or in the shop when you came in?

No, there wasn’t anyone else in the shop when I was here or when I came back from eating at Tina’s Teas and Treats.

I begin telling him about my visit to Past Pleasures and my conversation with the owner.

As I talk with the sergeant, I realize how much he looks like my late husband, with his blue eyes and graying hair. When he smiles, he makes me feel at ease, and my trembling subsides. He speaks softly and has a pleasant voice. He places his strong hand gently on my arm to comfort me. I talk about finding Mr. Anderson and answer his questions to the best of my ability. I am exhausted from everything that has happened.

That will be all I need to ask you right now, Mrs. Cooper. We will contact you if we need to ask you any further questions. Are you all right to drive home?

Yes, I am fine, Sergeant, even though it’s not how I thought my trip to Past Pleasures would end.

I am sorry you have been put through this, Mrs. Cooper. Is there anything at all that we can do for you?

No, there isn’t, Sergeant. I appreciate your kindness. I will be fine.

This evening, I can only think about the events of the day. It started out as an enjoyable trip to a new shop, and within a matter of a few hours, so much happened. It’s terrible to know that a man’s dream was finally fulfilled—and then ended suddenly because of that dream.

I want to take my mind off of this terrible tragedy. I could have been hurt or even murdered. I just need to rest, and maybe tomorrow things will be a little clearer.

I have a hard time falling asleep. I can’t stop thinking about Marcus Anderson and seeing him in a pool of blood. He followed his dreams. Look where it got him. How can we not dream? That is what makes us who we are.

Finally, after tossing and turning, my fatigue gives way to the comfort of slumber, which is such a relief.

Kindness cannot only be in the words you

say but in the caring sound in your voice!

Chapter 3

The next morning, I go out on the front porch to drink my coffee. I still feel quite shaken from yesterday. I reach for the Martinsville Post and come across an article with a bold caption:

Antique Owner Slain

In Shop’s Recent Opening

Marcus Anderson, 68, of Trumbull Township was found slain yesterday in his newly opened antique shop, Past Pleasures. Police have no clues as to why the man was slain. There are no suspects at this time, and the police are undergoing a full investigation of the murder. If you were in the area at that time and happen to see anything unusual, please call the Trumbull Township police department. Mr. Anderson’s wife, Anna, passed away two years ago. They had no children.

After finishing my coffee, I go inside to do a few chores around the house to try to get my mind off of the murder of Marcus Anderson.

I am busy washing dishes, making the bed, and starting a load of wash. The door bell rings, and I go to answer the door.

Hi, Margo. Come in! What’s up?

I am on my way to the grocery store and thought I would stop over since I haven’t heard from you.

I’m okay, Margo. I’m just out of sorts today. I didn’t get much sleep last night.

What happened yesterday?

Did you have a chance to look at the paper this morning? There was an owner of an antique shop that was murdered.

Yes, I read that. Did you know the man?

Briefly! I was at the shop, Past Pleasures, yesterday and met him. He was so happy about finally opening up his antique shop. His wife passed away, and it was always a dream of theirs to someday open an antique shop. I was there probably a couple hours. I had lunch at Tina’s Teas and Treats, which is six shops down from the antique shop. When I left the diner, I saw it was starting to rain, so I reached for my umbrella, which I couldn’t find. I went back in to see if I left it on the table where I was eating, but it wasn’t there.

Did you leave it at the antique shop?

Past Pleasures was the only other place that I had gone, so I knew I had to have left it at the antique shop. My umbrella was on the counter.

So you are all undone about misplacing your umbrella?

No. I didn’t want to take the umbrella without letting Mr. Anderson know that I had come back for it. When he didn’t come up to the front of the shop, I started looking for him. There was a backroom door partially opened, so I tried opening it wider, thinking he just didn’t hear me come in the shop. There was the poor man lying on the floor. I checked to see if he had a pulse, but he didn’t. Someone had murdered him in the short time that I was having lunch. I immediately called 911.

No wonder you are all undone this morning, Cassie. What an ordeal to have found him murdered. If you hadn’t left when you did, maybe you would have been murdered too.

I don’t understand why someone would want to hurt that nice gentleman, let alone kill him. I can’t get my mind off the fact that after making his dream come true, he gets murdered.

That is terrible, and I can understand why it is bothering you. You are so lucky to have not been in the shop at the time the murder happened, or you might not be talking to me right now.

Margo and I talk for quite some time, with her mostly trying to convince me to put the ordeal out of my mind, but that is not an easy thing to do. She offers to stay with me, but I tell her I will be okay and urge here to go get her groceries.

Yesterday was such a wonderful day until someone decided to take a person’s life. I have this funny feeling that this is not the end of that unfortunate ordeal.

Martinsville has always been such a quiet town. With the news about the murdered owner of Past Pleasures, Marcus Anderson, everyone will be nervous until this cold-blooded killer is apprehended.

I am probably one of the last few people to have seen Mr. Anderson alive, maybe one of the last two. Suddenly, I remember the young person that bumped into me as I was exiting Past Pleasures on my way to Tina’s Teas and Treats. How could I have forgotten!

Every second of life is a gift!

Chapter 4

As I try to do some things around the house, I realize how tired I am from not getting a good night’s sleep. I am not really in the mood to do anything special and decide to take it easy and not push myself until I am up to it. I pour myself another cup of coffee, hoping that the caffeine might give me some much-needed energy. I turn the stereo on to some soothing music and grab my book to do a little reading in the novel that I recently started.

Within forty-five minutes or so, I feel myself about to doze off when I hear a car door shut. I figure it’s probably at a neighbor’s because I’m not expecting anyone, so I don’t even bother checking it out. I’m startled by the sudden ringing of the doorbell. Standing at the door is Sergeant Monroe, the officer I talked with at Past Pleasures.

Good morning, Sergeant! What brings you by this morning? Did you just come for a visit or a good cup of coffee?

I could use a good cup of coffee. The kind we get with the donuts isn’t very good.

Well let me pour you a good cup then. I had a hard time sleeping last night. I kept thinking about yesterday, trying to remember details. Did you catch the person that killed poor Mr. Anderson?

Unfortunately, we haven’t yet. This is a really good cup of coffee, Mrs. Cooper. I could tell that you were very upset yesterday about finding Mr. Anderson, which is perfectly understandable. I live close to here and was passing your house on the way to the precinct. It can be very devastating for anyone to find someone murdered, and I just wanted to stop by to see if you are all right.

That is really kind of you, Sergeant Monroe. I kept thinking about Past Pleasures last night, and I remembered something. I’m sorry I didn’t think of it before.

What is it you remembered, Mrs. Cooper?

I remember when I went to leave Past Pleasures that some young person wearing a hooded sweatshirt almost knocked me into the table outside of the shop as he was rushing through the door into the shop. I’m so sorry I forgot about it.

I understand how you could have forgotten, as it was a very traumatic experience for you finding Mr. Anderson like that.

I didn’t see his face clearly because of his hood covering most of his face. I knew it was a young male because he had a stubble of facial hair on his chin.

You’re pretty sure he was young?

I got a glimpse of his hands, and they were hands of a young person. I would say he was late teen or early twenties. He had his hood loose, so I couldn’t see enough of his face. Do you have any idea who would have killed him?

As of yet, we don’t have any reason as to who would have wanted Mr. Anderson dead—or why. We do know he was struck on the head by some heavy object. The medical examiner did confirm that as the cause of death.

Maybe they were just after money.

Oddly enough, it doesn’t appear that money was the motive, but you might have interrupted them before they had the opportunity.

That could be what happened. You would think they would have waited until later in the day so that there would be more money.

"One would think that