Made-up for Murder: Mid-Life Mysteries, #1

By Moira Bates

"You do the crime; you do the time."

 

Julia Melvin had repeated those words countless times as she raised her children, proud to be teaching them personal responsibility. She did not expect to hear them parroted back from her young adult son on her one phone call from the county jail following a small skirmish at a protest against animal testing at a local cosmetics company.

 

Upon her release, she vowed to change her criminal ways and stay far away from the protest site. And she did. Kind of. Mostly. She just wanted to help the animals. How was she supposed to know she'd stumble over the dead body of the company owner? Now she's got two criminal cases pending and is doing all she can to avoid having murder added to her ever-growing rap sheet.

 

Fans of Agatha Raisin will love forty-something and fierce Julia Jane Melvin. Mid-Life Mysteries do not contain graphic violence, gore, strong language, or cliffhangers.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Fawkes Press
• Release date: May 31, 2021
• ISBN: 9781945419928

Book preview

1

N o, we don’t bail people out.

Benny—

Mother. Ben’s tone was matter of fact, with no room for bargaining. A trait he had picked up from me. You know the family rules—we do not bail people out of jail. You do the crime; you do the time.

The line went dead, and I reluctantly placed the phone receiver back in the cradle, cursing the fact that I had raised my children into strong, independent, and morally upstanding young adults.

Julia Jane Melvin? The officer, who couldn’t have been more than twelve-years-old, looked from the papers in his hand, to me, and back to the papers. You’ve made bail.

I stood to swan out the door, intending to project an air of absolute indifference to my unfair incarceration. Thank you, Officer— I glanced at the name pinned to his chest. Cook. Oh, god. It couldn’t be. Danny Cook?

A blush crept into his cheeks as his eyes lowered and my suspicion was immediately confirmed. Yes, ma’am.

Olivia doesn’t need to know about this! The words poured forth, causing the poor boy to jump and take a step back. I did not need my daughter to know about this unfortunate situation.

Yes, ma’am, he said, I haven’t seen Liv in quite a while. I know she’s busy with school and all—

Great, great, yes, she’s terribly busy. I’m sure she’d love to catch up, but when you do, please… isn’t there some kind of officer-client confidentiality clause?

His head tilted like an inquisitive puppy. No… ma’am. Arrests are public record. I mean, I don’t make a habit of discussing perps outside of the station, but it’s not protected.

Perp? Perp! For once in my life, I was struck speechless. Little Danny Cook opened the door to usher me into the lobby and freedom. Robby? My husband stood before me, hands in his pockets, for all the world looking like he was just waiting to pick up his order at the local pizza joint.

Hi, Juls. Ready?

How did you—

Ben. He was over at the house when you called. We’re doing some detail work on a new sleeper car.

But— As if reading my mind, Robby jumped in to answer my unasked questions.

We wrapped up the investigation late last night. I took a chance on standby and got out on the first flight this morning. I hope I didn’t mess up your plans by coming home early. My husband’s expression remained stoic, but his eyes sparkled with merriment.

The TV shows don’t show the reality of what happens after an arrest. The one phone call, that was accurate to a point. They did tell me I could try again after everyone arrested at the protest had a turn, but based on the size of the crowd, that could have been next Tuesday. There was a lot of paperwork involved. Once Robby paid my bail, I had to sign so many pages I felt like I was buying a house. Yes, I realize this does not relieve me of my duty to appear in court. No, I don’t wish to file a formal complaint regarding my treatment. (I did, but Robby maintained that being arrested does not equal mistreatment.) Yes, I understand I can be arrested for another matter, or bail revoked on the current matter. After all of that, we had to drive an hour to the county impound lot to retrieve my car. Apparently, the impound lot is the hottest place around, because it cost almost $500 to get my car back. For $125 an hour, I hope they at least showed it a good time.

Of course, the most important thing that is missing is THE TALK. Once bail is paid, belongings and vehicles retrieved, and everyone is settled at home, you have to talk about what happened.

Stop treating me like a criminal!

My husband sighed and took my hands in his. I just bailed you out from the county jail, Julia. Technically, you are a criminal.

I jerked my hands away. I was trying to do a good thing!

By setting a building on fire?

I didn’t set a building on fire!

You were charged with—

I know what I was charged with, but I’m telling you, our group had nothing to do with the fire. We were there to peacefully protest Summer’s Kiss and their use of animal testing. That’s it.

There was a riot.

I narrowed my eyes. Robby tended to see things very black and white, which didn’t always play well with my ability to parse down to the tiniest details. I’m well aware. If you’ll remember, I was caught up in the chaos, but I was not involved— My cell phone trilled, offering an opportunity to avoid any further questions. Deb needs me—later!

Robby’s words trailed after me as I snatched up my keys and headed out the door. Don’t do anything to make them revoke bail!

The smell of baking wafted through the open door at Debbie’s house. Yeasty and sweet. Maybe cinnamon rolls? Halloooo! I called as I pushed through the screen door. What are you stress baking today?

Debbie glanced up as she carefully spread icing across a pan of fresh pastries. Orange rolls, studded with cranberries.

Oh, my favorite!

I’m just glad I didn’t have to bake a file into them to bust you out of the pokey!

Not funny.

It’s kind of funny.

I helped myself to a drink from her fridge. What’s funny is how you managed to attend the same protest and not get arrested.

Saved by my weak bladder. A giggle erupted. "I never thought I’d be thankful for not being able to go two hours without needing to pee, but here we are. I slipped down the road to avail myself of the facilities at a gas station. By the time I got back, they were loading people into the sheriff’s vans, and the fire trucks were already there.

The fire. The mood in the room plummeted. How bad was it? Do you know if anyone was hurt? I gasped at the sudden realization. Oh! The animals!

No, no, no… they’re fine! Deb licked a bit of icing off the tip of her finger. That other group, the ones that came in from Seattle, they got the animals out."

They saved them? How?

Well, ‘saved’ is a little strong. They opened all the cages and containers. Animal control is trying to round them up.

Deb pulled her SUV into the parking lot at Summer’s Kiss Industries, the last of the yellow police tape flapping in the wind. I’m not sure, Julia…

It’s fine. I waved off her concerns and jumped out to unload the live traps. The building itself is the only thing under investigation. As long as we stay out of the building, we’re fine. I didn’t know that to be true, but it sounded reasonable.

What are we trying to catch? Deb asked as she expertly loaded bait and set the traps.

I’m not sure.

Then we are certainly going to get it—

A figure stormed around the building, arms flailing over its head. Hey, you! Stop! You can’t be here!

I intercepted the man, who gestured like a balloon calling people into a used car lot. Can I help you, sir?

Yes, you can help me! The man spat out the words as his hands stopped moving and landed squarely on his hips. Get the hell off my property!

We’re not near the building.

I don’t care. I don’t want you anywhere on my property!

Well— I stopped and studied the little man carefully. His blue suit was obviously custom tailored, but his shirt cuffs were dirty. His leather loafers, scuffed. And his tousled hair was highlighted by the beads of sweat forming across his forehead. Are you Matt Summers?

Of course, I am. Now get the hell off my property!

You listen here, little man—

Julia! Deb hopscotched around the live traps and fell against me as she skidded to a stop between me and Matt Summers. Not advisable. She turned to the despicable man and smiled, her voice taking on the tone learned at the feet of her Southern grandmother. Mr. Summers, I’m sure there has just been a misunderstanding. We were just setting traps to save the animals that were released as the result of your tragic fire.

Save? He turned his head and spit into the dirt. "All controls are gone. The data is worthless now. Those pests are less than worthless to me."

Pests? Deb’s voice changed, also mimicking her grandma, for Southern women are very versatile. The only pest I see around here is you! You have some nerve—

Woop, Woop.

The three of us froze as a sheriff’s cruiser pulled across the grass, narrowly avoiding the traps already set, and came to a stop in front of us.

Two officers leapt out of the car, guns drawn, shouting commands. Hands up! Hands up! Don’t move!

For heaven’s sake—hands up or don’t move? My mother never would have accepted such lazy language from her students. I sighed heavily, raising my hands and turning to face the guns pointed at me. Deb did the same, but Summers boomed commands at the officers. Put those away! I’ve done nothing wrong—

Sir, the officer widened his stance and glared at Summers. Stop and put your hands up! This is your only warning—

Summers resumed wildly flailing his arms as he stepped toward the cruiser. I am the own—

Bzzzt. Bzzzt. Thud.

Huh. I guess that one was holding a taser, not a gun. Good policing.

Deb and I