Death by G-String: A Coyote Canyon Ladies Ukulele Club Mystery

By C.C. Harrison

A new cozy mystery by award-winning author C.C. Harrison!

Viva Winter puts her sleuthing skills to the test in Death By G-String: A Coyote Canyon Ukulele Club Mystery. Can she find the truth before it’s too late?

 

The Coyote Canyon Ladies Ukulele Club is gearing up for a ukulele competition

• Language: English
• Publisher: Written Dreams Publishing
• Release date: Jan 12, 2018
• ISBN: 9780999587256

C.C. Harrison

C.C. Harrison lives in Anthem, Arizona. She is the author of hundreds of articles and short stories. When she's not writing, reading, or working out at the gym, she can be found in the mountains of Colorado or in some far-flung corner of the Southwest. She has won national recognition with her suspense novels.

Book preview

Praise for Death by G-String

"Death by G-String has a great sense of place and a luxurious cast of quirky characters, but it’s Viva Winter—battered but unbowed by all life has thrown at her—who makes this novel such a treat. Come for the mystery, stay for the ukes and lose your heart to Viva!"

—Catriona McPherson, Best-selling Author of Dandy Gilver and A Spot of Toil & Trouble

"Death by G-String is fun, hard to put down and relaxing—just like the ukulele! It is a perfect accessory (or gift) for anyone who loves to play."

—Heidi Swedberg, Ukulele teacher and Sukey Jump Band musician

"Ms. Harrison’s book, Death by G-String, is a very enjoyable read. It gave me an education in stringed instruments and small town living. An outstanding story with a minimum of sexual endeavors."

—Gail F. Meintzer, Author of Detours: A Memoir of a Railroad Man

You don’t need to be a musician to enjoy this fast, fun read.

—Phil Clark, Luthier/Guitar Tech. at Sam Ash 61 in Glendale, AZ

"I’ve always enjoyed the smooth and romantic sounds of the ukulele…never thinking it could become a tool of murder! But that it does in a fast-paced, character driven and realistic story which unfolds in fast page-turning fashion in Death by G-String. A small town turned upside down by a crime that just doesn’t happen in a peaceful place like this one. But it did…and the resolution will catch you by surprise. A great and fast read!"

—Paul Lisnek, Political Analyst and host of WGNPlus.com–a podcast of WGN radio and Politics Tonight

A G-string from a ukulele as a murder weapon? Set in southern Colorado’s mountains, this multi-layered book grabs readers from beginning to end.

—Casey Clifford, Author of the award-winning Dessert Dames Series

"In Death by G-String, C. C. Harrison brings a small western town to life with characters as colorful as the mountains. Folk music, a New Age retreat, murder, and a handsome true crime reporter who may not be what he seems combine in a perplexing puzzle packed with twists that will keep you guessing until the end."

—Alexia Gordon, Author of Murder in G-Major and the Gethsemane Brown Mysteries

"Be ready to be grabbed from the beginning of Death by G-String and taken on a ride that doesn’t end until the last page. It was such a page turner, I had a hard time putting it down. As I read, the well-developed characters became real people. I found myself enjoying Coyote Canyon and the people and businesses which inhabit it—especially the Ladies Ukulele Club. What an intriguing bunch! I’m an even bigger fan of C. C. Harrison now and can’t wait for her next book."

—Mary Grace Murphy, Author of the Noshes Up North Culinary Mystery Series

"Death by G-String is a delightful mystery that will keep you guessing! C. C. Harrison is a master of setting the scene and making the reader feel like part of the action. This is the perfect cozy mystery in which to lose yourself. I loved this book! It was pure page-turning enjoyment from cover to cover!"

—Pamela Blair-Sheldon, North Valley Regional Library Branch Manager

C.C. Harrison hits lots of bright notes in this cozy—a sharp heroine with a past that plucks at our heart strings, a supporting cast as rich and vibrant as the Colorado mountain setting, and…ukuleles! The murder investigation clips along at a steady tempo and features just enough police procedure for the crime element to ring true. The ukulele club setting is fresh and original, but Coyote Canyon, Harrison’s small town set high in the Rockies with a rich mining and ranching history, steals the show. Harrison has a heart for the West, and it shows on every page. A pitch perfect mystery with a Western flair!

—Shelley Coriell, Award-winning Thriller and Mystery Author

Death by G-String

A Coyote Canyon Ladies Ukulele Club Mystery

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C.C.

Harrison

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Green Bay, WI 54311

Death by G-String: A Coyote Canyon Ladies Ukulele Club Mystery by C.C. Harrison, © copyright 2017 by Patricia Christine Hubbard Family Living Trust.

Author Photo courtesy of Tim Pannell Photography.

This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places and events are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual places or businesses, is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without prior written permission of the publisher, Written Dreams Publishing, Green Bay, Wisconsin 54311. Please be aware that if you’ve received this book with a stripped off cover, please know that the publisher and the author may not have received payment for this book, and that it has been reported as stolen property. Please visit writtendreams.com to see more of the unique books published by Written Dreams Publishing.

Editor: Brittiany Koren

Copy-editor: Jessie Harrison

Cover Art Designer: Barbra Sprangers

Interior Layout Designer: Amanda Dix

Ukulele Chord Illustration: Sabrena Koren and Amanda Dix

Category: Mystery

Description: Under suspicion of murder, Chronicle Editor Viva Winter needs to discover the truth about her fellow ukulele player’s death and keep the ukulele group together.

Hard Cover ISBN: 978-0-9995872-3-2

Paperback ISBN: 978-0-9995872-4-9

Ebook ISBN: 978-0-9995872-5-6

LOCN: Catalog info applied for.

First Edition published by Written Dreams Publishing in November, 2017.

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Green Bay, WI 54311

To my faithful readers who kept asking, When’s the next book coming out?

Here it is. Hope you like it.

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Chapter One

I see Kiki did something to her hair again, Joanna Longstreet said, tuning up her ukulele.

Viva Winter glanced at Joanna and the other players in the room as she attached song sheets to her music stand with a pinch clip. It was the weekly ukulele jam session in the back room of Tina’s Tacky T-Shirt and Mercantile gift shop where members of the Coyote Canyon Ladies Ukulele Club met to play and practice. Currently, they were planning and rehearsing for the upcoming Canyon Ukulele Folk Festival. The festival was Viva’s idea, a way of bringing in more summer visitors, as well as a fundraiser to help pay off the investors her father swindled before he disappeared.

Babs Heywood squinted at the digital readout on the electronic tuner clipped to the head of her Lanikai ukulele and plucked the strings one at a time. Full bosomed and maternal, she always made Viva think of tea and homemade bread. It makes her look like a punk rocker, Babs said, adding a disapproving tsk sound.

Lucinda Yellowhorse removed her Luna tenor ukulele from its case and slipped the strap over her head and shoulder. She was wearing a green, My Kid’s an Honor Student at Coyote Canyon Middle School t-shirt. Dark, native eyes sparkled in her cinnamon-colored face when she smiled.

Oh, I don’t know, she said. I kind of like that blue streak. Lucinda’s own hair hung down her back like a swath of sleek, black satin.

Well, maybe it will grow out in time for the ukulele festival, added Joanna. A vague frown troubled her brow. Joanna was a successful real estate agent and obsessed over the way things looked. Houses, barns, yards, streets, even people.

They were talking about Kiki Jacquenette while waiting for her to arrive. Kiki was the most accomplished player in the club, and she was seldom late, so the others were using the time to indulge in some good-natured gossip, with Kiki as the focus.

Viva listened, amused. As editor of the Canyon Chronicle, the town’s only remaining newspaper—though it teetered on the precarious edge of profitability—news, gossip and rumors were her stock-in-trade, but the chatter about Kiki was harmless, amiable, and not at all newsworthy. Everyone liked Kiki. She was boisterous, straight-talking and fun-loving, with big hair of a shade not found in nature, big boobs, also not natural, and a big mouth. She lived large, which gave everyone plenty to talk about, but nobody ever crossed the line of civility. Not even Babs Heywood, who knew everything about everyone and could be sharp-tongued if you got on her bad side.

Dakota Martin, a rugged old gent with a bushy, grey beard and a grandfatherly temperament, sat next to Viva, quietly fingering Dust in the Wind on his Kohala ukulele. Though the group was called the Coyote Canyon Ladies Ukulele Club, men were welcome. Dak was an old timer in Coyote Canyon, born in the old hippie commune that had sprung up and flourished outside of town during the sixties. He lived out there still, in a log cabin that he’d hodgepodged into a good-sized house over the years. Viva was extremely curious to know more about his growing-up years, but he rarely talked about them.

Normally, Dak didn’t take part in the small talk, but now he spoke up. I saw Frank’s truck still parked out back when I went to the lumberyard this morning.

He meant Frank Emery, a rancher with a spread over in Blue Mesa Wells. After Kiki’s husband, Ben, disappeared on that climbing trip in the Tetons, she hadn’t lost any time getting into the dating scene. Such as it was in the mostly rural Western Colorado mountains. Viva, at age thirty-two, found it to be slim pickings, unless she counted the young bull riders who showed up during rodeo season.

I wish she would change the name of her shop from Kiki’s BowTeek to something else, Viva said. Or at least spell it correctly. Visitors coming to town will think we’re illiterate.

Kiki owned a two-unit commercial storefront building on Coyote Canyon’s main thoroughfare. Her clothing store occupied one side, and the Canyon Chronicle office leased the other. Viva lived in one of the two upstairs apartments. Kiki lived across the hall. Viva had always worried that the deliberately misspelled word on the front of Kiki’s shop, cutesy though it may be, tainted the credibility of the newspaper by its mere proximity.

Viva would never have expressed those sentiments in front of Kiki. Their relationship was already strained. Kiki had lost a great deal in Cy Winter’s phony investments. After he sneaked out of town with his investor’s money, Viva, in a fit of guilt and remorse, promised to pay everyone back, even if it took the rest of her life.

And from what the lawyers were telling her, it just might take the rest of her life to repay his debts. They were still trying to unravel Cy’s financial subterfuge. It wasn’t easy, since years’ worth of files were missing, if they had even existed at all. He owed or had cheated just about everyone in town. Hence, the fundraiser ukulele festival.

Sorry I’m late. Lottie Dalton, the school nurse at the senior high, arrived and sat down. She was shy, quiet, and an icon of widowhood since her husband died early into their marriage. That was eleven years ago, and though Viva was sure many opportunities had come along, Lottie had never remarried.

That’s all right, said Viva. Kiki’s not here yet.

Lottie slipped on a pair of granny half glasses and opened the three-ring binder that held her music. She’s not? she said, looking around. That’s odd. Kiki’s never late.

Others arrived, took seats, tuned up and settled in, but still no Kiki.

Viva checked the time, then lightly tapped her pencil on the edge of her music stand to get everyone’s attention. Conversation and chord practice gradually died down.

Maybe we should begin, she said. I’m sure Kiki and the others will be here soon. Let’s start with ‘Rocky Top’.

Viva had just begun the countdown to the opening chords when the sound of feet beating a rapid approach along the corridor grew louder. Jen Lansky skidded to a stop in the open doorway wearing riding pants and boots, her ukulele case over her shoulder like a backpack. Her face was grave, but her eyes glittered.

A deadpan silence engulfed the room.

What happened? A sheet of Tina Peabody’s music slid off her music stand and floated to the floor.

It’s Kiki, Jen said in a thin, wobbly voice. She’s dead.

Viva took in a breath like she’d been hit in the chest.

Lottie’s right hand rose to clasp the side of her face. The others gaped silently, absorbing the shock.

Dead? Viva croaked.

Jen answered with a slow nod. They just found her. At her shop. Strangled with a ukulele G-string.

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Chapter Two

By the time Viva and the others packed up their instruments and arrived at Kiki’s BowTeek a half a block from the Mercantile, a small crowd had already gathered. The area in front of the building housing Kiki’s shop was cordoned off with a line of yellow police tape. Flashers on top of a patrol car washed red-blue lights over the front of the shop, the adjacent Canyon Chronicle , and the walls of nearby buildings. Officers moved around the crime scene inside the shop with sharp, precise movements. Outside, their boots kicked up dust as they plowed through the vacant lot alongside the building. They appeared to be searching for something on the ground.

Looking at the building from the street, the two storefronts were more or less the same size, give or take a few feet in width. Two steps up led to a wide, wood-slatted front porch. On the Canyon Chronicle side, café curtains covered the bottom half of the window, behind which were Viva’s desk, her office phone, computer, and stacks of notes, bills, classified ads and photographs.

On Kiki’s side, six mannequins, positioned in stiff, gangly poses, showed off clothes that some folks thought were too pricey for Coyote Canyon and didn’t reflect the town’s easy-going, boots-and-jeans lifestyle. Some complained the sizes were more suitable for Kiki’s petite frame than for real women.

Behind the window display, ceiling lights lit the interior of the shop. Sheriff Matt Lansky, Jen’s husband, and Doc Murphy, a retired physician turned coroner, were talking, their faces folded in a frown. Doc Murphy gestured as he explained something to the sheriff.

Viva and Jen exchanged a look.

Do you know who found her? Viva asked.

Lacey Thorne. Matt got the call about a half hour ago. Jen turned to look at a patrol car parked on the sidewalk, its doors flung wide.

Viva followed her gaze.

In the backseat, Lacey Thorne, a high school senior, leaned over her knees sobbing, her fingers flying over her phone, texting. Lacey worked for Kiki after school and on weekends.

Lacey found the body? Viva asked. What was she doing in the store at this hour? Like most other merchants on Main Street, Kiki closed at five.

Jen shrugged. I don’t know. I haven’t had a chance to talk to Matt.

Viva dug around in her leather slouch bag for paper and a pen. The regular edition of the newspaper wasn’t scheduled until next week. Meanwhile, rumors would bloom and gossip would fly. If she could get enough information to publish a special online edition before then, it might stop wild speculation from turning into honest-to-god reality.

Viva looked around and began taking notes. She wrote down the date, time and location, described the scene, and listed the officers. She knew most of the bystanders by name, and tried to get quotable comments, but they didn’t know much more than she did, having been drawn to the scene after the fact by the police cars and flashing lights. It was impossible to pick up on the buzz and murmurs around her, everyone was talking at once.

Sheriff Lansky was still conferring with Doc Murphy, so Viva headed for her office to draft an outline of an article, leaving blanks she could fill in with facts later. She ducked under the crime scene tape, but a lanky deputy held up a hand stopping her.

Step back, Viva. This is a crime scene.

Deputy Lynn Baker spoke in the flat, no-nonsense voice that worked so well for all law enforcement officers.

Viva’s eyebrows shot up. But I live here, Lynn. You know that. And I have to get into my office to write up the story.

Deputy Baker ignored that. Where were you tonight?

At ukulele practice. Why?

What time did leave your apartment?

About quarter to seven. Why?

Did you hear anything next door? See anyone?

No. I’d tell you if I did.

Would you? Lynn looked at Viva skeptically, her eyes locked in a stare.

Lynn Baker had been the high school mean girl. After graduation, Viva left for college, then took a job in Denver. When she returned to Coyote Canyon, Lynn had become a sheriff’s deputy. Police work suited her. She was good at it and took it seriously.

Back off, Lynn, Viva said in a tone that implied here we go again. She smiled, but Lynn didn’t smile back. A vacuum opened between them.

Hey, Viva.

Sheriff Lansky calling from the doorway of Kiki’s shop interrupted the mini standoff. He raised a hand and waved her over. His face was grave, his mouth taut.

Lynn held fast to her hard look a moment longer, then, with an air of wounded dignity, raised the yellow tape and stepped aside, letting Viva pass. Don’t leave town, she said just loud enough for Viva to hear.

Viva slid her a sideways look. Sometimes Lynn took her work too seriously.

Hi, Matt, Viva said as she approached. This is awful. I can’t believe it.

Matt shook his head and spoke in a low voice. It’s bad.

Poor Kiki. Viva’s voice cracked. What happened?

Let’s talk over here. Matt put his hand on her arm and together they moved out of earshot of onlookers. Viva saw Deputy Baker follow their movements.

Jen said Kiki was strangled?

Matt nodded. Yeah… He let the rest of it trail off, and his eyes fell away.

Viva waited for him to complete his thought, then said, There’s more?

He let out a breath. She has a blunt force wound on the back of her head, too. It looks deep. Bloody. Someone hit her with a fret hammer. Doc thinks the blow put her down, then someone wrapped a ukulele string around her neck and pulled so hard it sliced into the flesh.

Viva’s stomach gave a hard little lurch, and she winced. She’d recently read a story on a true crime website about someone who used a guitar string to decapitate his victim. It happened in a foreign country thousands of miles away to a stranger. But this was Kiki Jacquenette they were talking about. A neighbor, a friend—though not a close one—a landlord, a popular business owner. A real person. Someone she knew. Next door.

Lacey Thorne found her? How did that happen?

She said she went in the shop to borrow an outfit.

"What do you mean borrow?"

Kiki gave her a key to the shop so she could open up on Saturday mornings. Looks like Lacey has been taking advantage of those key privileges by going in after closing and taking things off the rack to wear, then returning them before Kiki noticed they were gone.

Viva couldn’t imagine Kiki ever allowing that, and she definitely wouldn’t have been happy if she found out about it. Though Kiki’s life was at times in messy disarray, she ran her business as if she were the CEO of a major corporation. Tracked every penny, and kept meticulous records.

What was Lacey doing tonight? Viva wanted to know. "Returning? Or borrowing?"

Borrowing. She was on her way to a party at Cullen Strider’s.

That explained why none of the teenagers were at ukulele practice. Are they dating again? I thought she broke up with Cullen.

Matt shrugged. Who knows? Kids.

Are you going to press charges? Against Lacey? For the borrowing, I mean.

I don’t think so. As far as I know, she didn’t steal anything. But…

Viva waited for more, but Matt shook his head, his face a blank mask. He didn’t answer, but he didn’t have to. Viva could make the logical inference and concoct a likely scenario herself, farfetched though it may be. Lacey sneaking in after closing. Kiki catching her in the act. Lacey full of teenage backtalk and sass. Kiki shocked, disappointed, and angry. They argued, it got out of hand, and then…

But nothing was farfetched to a cop. This didn’t look good for Lacey. Viva let it go, and asked another question.

Do you know when it happened? Do you have a time of death?

Doc Murphy thinks about an hour ago, but he’s not done yet. Kiki was back in her office. Looks like she was putting new strings on that expensive ukulele of hers. Was she expected at uke group tonight?

Yes. She never misses. She’s our best player. Was, Viva corrected herself.

Murmurs from the crowd rose, and there were a few shouts. The coroner was leaving the building and heading for his car. He shook his head and batted shouted questions back to the crowd.

Look, I have to catch Doc Murphy before he leaves, said Matt. I can’t give you any more details until they finish processing the crime scene. A report should be available in a day or two. Deputy Baker will be helping with the investigation. She’ll be around to get statements.

Is anything you told me off the record?

He hesitated and tipped his head in a side-to-side maybe. Not really, but I’d appreciate it if you held off until we know more.

I don’t know if I can, Matt. I have to report something. You know how rumors get started when there’s no information. And sometimes when there is.

Matt lowered his head and massaged the bridge of his nose with