Evil Destruction: A Molly Tinker Mystery

By Misty Reddington

Molly Tinker is at it again, solving crime in her small New England town. Her husband is still Chief of Police, and a hunk of a man. Her poodles are still by her side.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Apr 29, 2022
• ISBN: 9781435762237

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

The morning brightened at the eastern horizon as I jogged with my two poodles through the quiet sleeping streets of my small New England town. We were headed to Pond Park, so Jeremy and Tinker could be off their leashes, running free.

My mind was preoccupied, thinking about my upcoming day. It was the end of spring, and the beginning of a new park season. I’d been trapped in a cramped hot office for the last six months, answering repetitive questions from my neighbors about recreation classes, and tossing out junk mail. I was ready for some outdoor work, as Pond Park’s diligent and dedicated ranger.

The three of us entered the parking lot and I bent down and unclasped their leashes. Both dogs raced up the small hill to their favorite evergreen tree, hoping to find something interesting under its branches, like a shoe attached to another dead body.

As my two dogs raced up the hill, I jogged toward the far woods, but passing by the picnic tables, I stopped in puzzlement. What?

A bright light flashed through the sky, and it continued to flash, reaching higher and higher. A fire? Mesmerized, I pulled my cellphone from my jacket pocket and dialed Stan Weaver, the town’s fire chief.

A fire? Stan said.  No one’s called it in.

It can’t be anything else.

Okay then. We’re on it.

I disconnected the call as Jeremy and Tinker ran over to me, and I leashed them and started for home. The dogs hadn’t finished their sniffing and running and doing their business, but Eric needed to get to the fire, being Chief of Police.

He was still asleep, even though it was past daybreak, as the three of us barged into the bedroom.

Come on, I tugged at him. Get out of bed. There’s a fire, maybe a suspicious fire, across town. I’ll drop the dogs and baby Annie at my parents’ house while you get going.

Eric shook himself out of sleep and looked at me, looming over him. Aren’t you forgetting a couple of things?

I looked at my blonde hunk of a husband.

What a goofy wife, he said. Where’s my kiss, and my hot coffee?

Chapter Two

Mom, I yelled into the kitchen. I’m here with my guys. I hope we’re not too early. A fire is blazing across town, maybe something criminal is happening.

My mother, a middle-aged stocky woman with graying hair and wearing a flowered robe, came into the kitchen and reached for the baby. Annie cuddled against her warm body and smiled her baby smile. Jeremy and Tinker jumped around her and smiled their canine smiles.

Sit down, dear, and I’ll start the coffee.

Can’t, Mom. I leaned over and kissed her cheek. I want to check out the fire, and then I have to get Pond Park ready for the first visitors of the season.

Do you expect hordes of people on opening day?

It’s been a cold winter. People in town must be yearning to sit in the sunshine and eat their lunches at the park’s newly painted picnic tables.

My mother smiled at me. You and Eric come for dinner, and you can tell me about your days.

Meatloaf and mashed potatoes and gravy?

My mother continued to smile. Eric can eat your green beans.

Kissing my dogs and my baby goodbye, I drove my VW Bug on the roads through town until I arrived at a blazing house that was surrounded by fire trucks, and firemen with massive water hoses.

The house had once been a two-story colonial, white shingled. Now it was half destroyed.

I spotted Eric’s Chevy truck and parked beside it. Approaching the flames, I caught a whiff of gasoline. Eric’s voice came from around the side of the house. He was standing in a puddle talking with Stan Weaver.

Stan turned to me. Thanks for being a good citizen, Molly. We saved some of the house.

It looks like a total loss to me, what with the fire damage and the water damage.

It’s a crime scene, Eric said.

I smell the gasoline.

What hasn’t burned, has been trashed. He took my hand and l followed him to a large picture window that looked into what was left of the living room.

The room looked like it had been ransacked, with some added destruction. The couch pillows had been tossed across the hardwood floor with their stuffing slashed out. The glass coffee table had been smashed, with some kind of heavy object. The crimson-and-white curtains were tattered and hanging off their rods. There was black paint smeared all over the walls.

I pointed to the corner of the room. Pages torn from a book, I said. What a shame.

Eric looked at me oddly. It’s all a shame, Molly. Whoever did this, he had a lot of rage.

He?

Almost certainly, Eric said. Even though I won’t rule anyone out.

I looked around me. Where are the owners?

Mr. Hillis, a neighbor, told Stan that the family is staying with relatives across town while their house is being remodeled. I’m going to start by interviewing the family to find out if they have any mean enemies.

Crazy enemies, I emphasized, glancing around at the destruction. I’d like to help you with the interview; I still have my cop badge.

I waited for Eric to protest, but he stood quietly, waiting for my plea to continue.

But, as you know, today is a big day for me; it’s the first day of the new season. Looking at the sun rising over Eric’s shoulder, I continued, I have to be at the park all day, to remind people of the rules and regulations.

No littering, and no golf clubs at the park?

Exactly, I said. So can you schedule the interview with the family after I get off work?

I’ll schedule the interview after dinnertime, instead of disrupting their workday by bringing them into police headquarters.

You’re a good man, Eric, I grinned. I’ll stop by at lunch to get a report.

Chapter Three

Pond Park was glorious, the sky blue and the sunshine bright. The day was just starting to warm, the temperature in the sixties. The weather was predicted to stay clear and be in the seventies by midafternoon.

I retrieved my dirty white bucket from the shed and put on my rubber park ranger gloves and started hunting for crumpled paper products that unsupervised park visitors had carelessly thrown on the ground.

I hummed one of my favorite songs, Tracks of My Tears, as I bent down and picked up two full buckets of trash. I asked myself every few steps how people could degrade such a beautiful natural setting, with its sweeping lawns and towering old oak and birch and evergreen trees.

After glancing around, making sure the park was pristine, I sat at my stone wall by the duck pond, waiting for the public to appear in their SUV’s and vans.

A white van was the first vehicle to drive down the hill from downtown, and an old friend of mine jumped