Why Did You Die, Mrs. Adams?

By Gail L. Howell

Why Did You Die Mrs. Adams? is an intriguing coming-of-age novel following Samantha, a high school junior trying to navigate the typical trials of being a teenager. Samantha’s mother pines for a lost love, and she has no father present to lean on. Due to her mother’s lack of emotion, Sam hasn’t gotten the attention she’s wanted her whole life. Thankfully, her Gram and her Uncle Jeff are the only family she needs. Intense trauma strikes when, in one week, she experiences the deaths of her mother and Mrs. Adams, a nearby neighbor friend.

Her grief morphs into anger and curiosity when she becomes consumed by the need to solve these two mysterious deaths. After frustrating her family, Sam enlists her friends Lois and Josh to outwit an alleged killer. Between the three of them, they are determined to solve crimes that Sam has magnified in her mind.

Murder isn’t the only mystery, though. Sam also seeks the father she has never met, wondering if he’s out there somewhere. Intrigue abounds, as Sam becomes an obsessed investigator, all while fighting her grief and managing her own demons. Who is the killer, and will Sam be saved or shattered by the discovery?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Archway Publishing
• Release date: Sep 7, 2022
• ISBN: 9781665723046

Gail L. Howell

Gail L Howell is the author of Sarah Meets Her Cousins by the Sea and Sarah and the Blue Sled, both children’s books. This is her first novel. Several years ago, she retired from a lucrative career in sales, having traveled throughout Europe in the plastics industry. Once retired, it didn’t take her long to return to her love of writing. She lives in Florida with her husband.

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Copyright © 2022 Gail L. Howell.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used

or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or

mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or

by any information storage retrieval system without the

written permission of the author except in the case of brief

quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents,

organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the

products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Archway Publishing

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Bloomington, IN 47403

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web

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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 Getty Images are models, and such images are

being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

ISBN: 978-1-6657-2303-9 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-6657-2304-6 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2022908329

Archway Publishing rev. date: 08/22/2022

"Why is it we try to get it right,

when all we do is get it wrong."

glh

Contents

Chapter 1     Samantha

Chapter 2     Samantha

Chapter 3     Samantha & Lois

Chapter 4     Samantha

Chapter 5     Samantha

Chapter 6     Samantha

Chapter 7     Samantha

Chapter 8     Samantha

Chapter 9     Samantha

Chapter 10   The Morrison Town Newspaper Ledger

Chapter 11   Lois

Chapter 12   Lois

Chapter 13   Lois

Chapter 14   Samantha

Chapter 15   Jeff

Chapter 16   Jeff

Chapter 17    The Funeral Service

Chapter 18   Samantha

Chapter 19   Police Chief Stevens

Chapter 20    Samantha

Chapter 21   Samantha & Lois

Chapter 22    Samantha & Lois

Chapter 23   Samantha

Chapter 24   Lois

Chapter 25   Samantha & Lois

Chapter 26   Samantha

Chapter 27   Samantha

Chapter 28   Samantha

Chapter 29   Uncle Jeff

Chapter 30   Jeff

Chapter 31   Todd

Chapter 32   Samantha, Lois, & Josh

Chapter 33   Samantha & Maria

Chapter 34   Samantha

Chapter 35   Jeff

Chapter 36   Samantha

Chapter 37   Samantha, Lois, & Josh

Chapter 38   Samantha

Chapter 39   Samantha & Lois

Chapter 40   Samantha & Lois

Chapter 41   Samantha

Chapter 42   Samantha & Josh

Chapter 43    Jeff & Todd/Mitch

Chapter 44   Samantha

Chapter 45   Jeff & Todd/Mitch

Chapter 46   Jeff

Chapter 47   Josh & Lois

Chapter 48   Richard Adams

Chapter 49   Lois

Chapter 50   Samantha & Lois

Chapter 51   Uncle Jeff & Samantha

Chapter 52    Samantha

Chapter 53   Mitch

Chapter 54   Mitch

Chapter 55   Jeff

Chapter 56   Samantha, Lois, & Josh

Chapter 57   Samantha

Chapter 58   Richard Adams

Chapter 59   Samantha & Richard Adams

Chapter 60   Samantha Goes Missing

Chapter 61   Samantha, Lois, & Josh

Chapter 62   At the Police Station

Chapter 63   Mitch & Jeff

Chapter 64   Samantha

Chapter 65   Samantha

Chapter 66   Jeff, Samantha, & Mitch

Chapter 67    Samantha & Mitch

Chapter 68   Samantha

Chapter 69   Samantha

Chapter 70   Reality & Beyond

About the Author

Acknowledgments

CHAPTER 1

Samantha

I was born in a little town of no consequence. The only notoriety being, I had no father, or at least one present to acknowledge my existence. Regarding that one fact, I overheard my uncle mention that my mother was talked about. No one in my family cared to correct the gossip; we just didn’t bother with those downtown people.

My mother and I lived with my grandmother in the house her father built. My grandmother’s folks were long gone, having lived long lives, long before me. I knew little about them, I could care less. I was told my heritage was Irish, English, and who knew what else. That information came to me unsolicited. I was too busy to care.

What I did remember was, Martha Davies Donnelly (Gram to me), was born in this house. The house had history and my mother for some reason was part of it, probably having something to do with my father. I didn’t care about him either.

When my grandmother married Henry Donnelly, they moved into this family home and had two children, a son and a daughter.

Their daughter was my mother. Her name was Evelyn Donnelly and at 41 years old, I thought she was pretty. I never told her that, we weren’t close I mean mother/daughter close. I’ve recently taken to calling my mother Evelyn; she didn’t seem to care. Her immediate family, her mother (my grandmother) and her brother, Jeff, supported us. Evelyn and I lived with my grandmother in the house her father built. I knew what it was like to be loved. Uncle Jeff and Gram doted on me, my mother not so much.

By the time I was old enough to discover certain facts about my mother’s life, it really didn’t affect me. The reason she sat at the window most days and quietly looked to the sky only left me wondering what the heck she was thinking about. Those days were often, but as a young girl who really didn’t care, I went on with my life as if there weren’t enough hours to fill my space. My space was the woods behind my house.

The house my great grandfather built was a small one-story home with a large attic. I was told back in the day that it looked like a little cottage painted a bright yellow surrounded by trees and flowers presenting a calm amongst nature. Now, this sad little house looking worn down gray, still had that comfy cottage look with a front porch that I loved. Even with the railings peeling on that porch, Gram and I would sit on wicker chairs that were also peeling and her memories would unfold. I cared about those days. On my thirteenth birthday, Uncle Jeff redid the entire house inside, including renovating the attic, which became my bedroom.

The best part about the house was the three acres of land that bordered the woods which became my playground. Beyond the fence, it seemed to stretch for miles. The tall maple trees with branches so wide you could climb and sit for hours — which I did often — was the quiet I desired when I needed to think or just dream. It wasn’t as though I was a lonely child. I had family, I had love, but I was often left by myself to create my day. Of course, I was thirteen at the time and now at sixteen, I didn’t go as often as I would have liked.

Today was going to be one of those days, I just needed to be outside and alone in these woods. I yelled to Gram that I’d be back later and flew out the back door. Once there, I noticed the green all around me as well as the colorful wildflowers that seemed to grow in the areas I didn’t inhabit. The squirrels with their long bushy tails would scamper nearby, the deer at dusk were too many to count. It was in the silence of my days in the woods that I found myself. I found laughter, joy and bodily rhythm as I danced around those trees and at times, climbing them.

If you were to view this scene you could only imagine a girl with long lanky legs on a willowy body that led to a freckled face framed by a mass of red, red hair that fell below my shoulders. If it wasn’t for that wild red hair blowing free as the wind, I might have been a boy. That, and the fact that I was flat chested. I wasn’t all that happy about that.

That is what you would have seen, but no one ever came to my woods, no one ever knew I was even there -- except for my grandmother.

She knew, she knew everything.

CHAPTER 2

Samantha

"W here are you off to?" Mom, always wanting to know where I was going and who I was going with.

School! I answered back.

Isn’t it a bit early? My mother said in her usual firm manner. It was September, school had just started.

I have my first Student Council meeting; I’ll be home before dinner.

Samantha are you aware Uncle Jeff is coming this evening for dinner and Gram will be anxious. Do not be late!

I thought it wouldn’t be Gram who would be anxious, it would be Evelyn. My mother always wanted to impress her brother and it seemed to me that he was her life, she lived for these visits. Of course, Gram would be pleased to have him join us for dinner, she loved it when he came, but it would be Evelyn that would be doing all the fussing.

My uncle loved me, there was no doubt of how he felt about me. If it wasn’t for me, and most certainly Gram, he wouldn’t give a fig. No, he wasn’t coming for my mother, at least that’s what I thought.

It was always interesting when my uncle visited, I would be on time, if nothing more than to just witness the dynamics of the night. When Jeff came it was for a reason, he came, and we gathered. It didn’t matter the day or the time, there was always a reason for his presence.

I left the house a little after 7:00 without another word and hurried down the sidewalk. I usually take the 8:00 bus, this time I decided to walk the 25 minutes it would take to get there for the early meeting. I like being on the Student Council, not that I make that much of a difference. My grades were excellent, it was my guidance counselor who thought it would look good on my college resume. I’m a worker bee, tell me what to do and I’ll do it. I’m just not a decision maker, or I should say, not on this committee. I’m not as shy as people think but, no one turns to me for advice or guidance. I’m happy in this role. I stand in, but not out.

I’m new, I don’t recognize anyone in Student Council, they are mostly seniors, the meeting takes place in an empty classroom. I take a seat in the back of the room and look up when I hear my name called because I was being introduced. Here, I reply, and at that moment the bell rings; a senior girl comes down the aisle handing me a schedule. Thanks, I mumbled getting up, I was out the door in a flash.

I’m off to my first class -- Spanish.

I’m bombarded in the hallway, Hey Sam, someone shouts. I turn and wave to Josh (another redhead). Why are the reds drawn together? Josh is great. He’s a lanky, geeky sort of guy who is also very smart; I’ve known him forever. He runs cross country and he’s fast, winning most of his races. At my high school, it’s all about sports, and that makes Josh popular. Being smart and athletic works. Me, well, let’s just say he likes me. We’re friends, we have the best time together plus, he can always count on me to wave him on to victory.

I take my seat but not before noticing a new girl seated behind me. With an open book and eyes forward, I wait for Mrs. C to speak in a fluid Spanish tone that makes me wish I had that gift. It’s not that I struggle, I’m able to speak to get good grades. I also have a language partner in Josh, he’s in another class but at the same level as me. Don’t get me wrong, I make mistakes, I study constantly. If I make mistakes, I’m not afraid to learn from them.

The bell, off to science class.

CHAPTER 3

Samantha & Lois

I learned Lois had transferred in from Morrison High, a prestigious high school that reeked old money on every pillar. The school I attended, Crosstown High School, was quite a drop from that social status. Sports kept us in the public eye and the number of college applicants impressed many. Not bad for being on the other side of town.

I was seated in science class when Lois entered, her head held high as she went to Mr. Morrell and handed him what seemed to be her information. Mr. Morrell was tall and bony, he looked like Ichabod Crane, a fictional character in the short story of, Sleepy Hollow. He was also the drama coach. Mr. Morrell nodded his head and pointed to an empty seat.

Mr. Morrell had a flair for the dramatic as he rose from his seat and introduced Lois van Cliff to the class. I immediately recognized her from Spanish class. Ahhh, Miss van Cliff has just honored us with her attendance, she is a transfer from Morrison High School where she was an honor student. Let’s give a round of applause to welcome her.

UGH! Oh my God! The entire class said in unison. Mr. Morrell lived for these moments, while Lois took her seat, clearly embarrassed as the applause dwindled. Actually, it never got started – totally embarrassing.

She was stunning, beautifully dressed in, totally, Strap. Strap was the hip store located in the mall an hour away from our city. Every month, we would receive 10-page free flier in the mail with all the latest fashion. It was cool, no doubt about it, I loved to look at everything offered, just not offered to me. Me, being a tomboy of sorts had no style, I still couldn’t get over the girly-girl look that I secretly admired from a distance. The price points alone were to be admired, I knew money, mostly because we didn’t have it. I thought of myself as a rebel, my look of choice was denim jeans, overalls, and winter flannel. I tried platform sneakers that I saw on a 90’s poster from a secondhand shop -- Spice Girl failure. Walking in those monsters were ridiculous, so it was back to my bobos, that is until I saw Lois.

I was sitting by myself at lunch when Lois approached. She asked if it was OK to sit with me, I merely nodded as she took a seat. Lois sat behind me in Spanish, I had noticed her. When she had to introduce herself in Spanish, she said Luis. There were a few, tethers, her first awkward moment. I turned around and caught her eye as she smiled and sat down.

At the lunch table she concentrates on getting to know me which is amusing because Lois clearly oozing confidence talks with ease about herself. I now know all there is to know about her and she knows very little about me. Not because she didn’t try, I just redirected the conversation back to her. Just before the bell rang, she asked if I would meet her later in the day at the library. I only had two more classes left in the afternoon before heading home. I was intrigued, so I said, Yes.

I had friends, that wasn’t a problem -- if I had a problem, it was that I kept them all at bay. The girls and boys in my school were typical high school students. The boys are athletic or nerdy, the girls, girly or booky -- that’s how I saw them, and I existed between the two groups. I joined no clique. Except for my red hair, most times I was invisible. Lois mentioned the color and she complimented me, without seeming pretentious. I smiled and said nothing. She was not the typical girly-girl. Her comments were bright, thoughtful, and very funny.

Do you believe I was introduced in science class by Ichabod Crane? OMG, was that ever embarrassing?

I laughed, True, Mr. Morrell has a bit of theater in him, but he’s OK.

She appreciated the response; it was as though she and she alone were in on the joke about herself. OMG, the applause. We both broke down in laughter.

During those minutes we sat together, I recognized myself. This was a girl I could relate to and go toe to toe with. She would either get the better of me or make me better. Interesting . . . I thought. I made it a point to have her text me just in case I wasn’t able to meet up with her later. We exchanged information, I turned and left for my next class.

CHAPTER 4

Samantha

A fter getting off the early bus, I headed for the woods behind the house. I went there to clear my head and lift my spirits. I put my books down on the grass and laid down beside them. Looking up at the sky, a canvas of intertwining limbs, each reaching out to the other. As the quiet settled over me, the area came alive with chatter. First the cardinals, then the scattering of squirrels. The activity of climbing, jumping tree squirrels was a circus of fun. I knew they communicated with each other by making sounds and body movements, such as tail flicking. I read that on the Kids National Geographic site. What a scene, so quiet and yet chaotic, a complete blend of disorder.

I was aware back at the house preparations were underway for the grand arrival of Uncle Jeff. I had stayed too long and needed to get up off the ground and get going. Once home, I rounded the corner and having come through the back door, I was met with a glare from Evelyn. I called my mother Evelyn to myself and out loud to Gram. It didn’t always meet with approval, but with my gram, there were times that I would catch a glimpse of a wink. I would return a smile, that’s just how it was with Gram and me.

Mom, what can I do? The kitchen is filled with cold cuts of turkey and ham, sliced tomatoes, cheese, and bread that will eventually go on the dining room table. Mom replies as she busies herself with decorating platters of food, Nothing at the moment, except for your appearance.

I knew why my mother reacted the way she did to what she saw, I must have looked a mess, and probably deserved the sarcastic comment. I went upstairs to my room to fix myself up. I hear the doorbell ring, and I know the evening has begun.

Without casting my eyes on my Uncle Jeff, I am reminded he is tall, broad shouldered and balding. I know he will be dressed as if