Granny Smith Apple Cold Case: Granny Smith Mysteries

By Laura Walker

Granny Smith Apple Cold Case

A cold case haunts the village of Orchard Falcon for decades. Until. . . Granny Smith comes to town.

The cold case of Orchard Falcon resident Elsie Hofmann's disappearance, which happened the day of her late husband's funeral twenty years ago, springs back to the mind of apple grower and bakery owner, Granny Imelda Smith, when former suspect, German restaurant owner, Carsten Muller returns to the village. Local gossip gets around and Granny Smith gets involved, after becoming intrigued about the case. She investigates and while doing so, clashes with the local PC plod, Linus Wadds, one of her regular customers.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Laura Walker
• Release date: Oct 29, 2020
• ISBN: 9798223915645

Laura Walker

Laura Walker grew up in the Derbyshire Dales. She now lives with her husband in Staffordshire. She has been writing since childhood and specialises in ya romance, regency romance and mystery novels.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

AN UNLIKELY  PARTNERSHIP

THE DAY ELSIE HOFMANN disappeared, we buried your granddad, Imelda Smith told her granddaughter when she visited her home in the cozy village of Orchard Falcon, Wisconsin.

She inherited the nickname Granny Smith from the Orchard Falcon residents as she found all things apple a delight; she'd set up a bakery shop run from a window in her cottage kitchen, sourcing the apple produce from her very own apple orchard.

She dressed younger than her eighty years, often in colorful clothing, green being a color she loved, and it matched her deep-sea-green eyes. She wore her hair in a short bob, with a full fringe and blonde highlights covered over the white hair.

Joanie Smith watched her grandmother's sharp and knowing eye that she knew very well and narrowed her own chestnut eyes. With an upright posture she asked, What has Grandfather's burial got to do with that German guy you saw today?

Well. . . That German guy, named Carsten Muller, was the main suspect in her disappearance twenty years ago. A glass was found with his DNA at her home. There was not enough conclusive evidence to convict him.

Granny heard snippets of gossip from customers to the bakery and the news that Carsten Muller had returned to the village, and opened a German restaurant, had intrigued her.

So, he was let off the hook? Joanie shivered. He could be a murderer or something.

She was never found. She could still be around for all anyone can tell, Granny answered, amused by Joanie's dramatics.

Do you remember her? This Elsie?

Very well. I wouldn't know her now if we collided in the street. She will be sixty.

What was she like? She leaned forward with casual interest in the information as Granny answered, more to avoid an argument than anything else.

A beautiful person on the outside. Classic good looks of a film star; soft, gentle beauty. It's unfortunate this couldn't be said of her on the inside.

She was a witch? she asked bluntly.

You could say that. Wolves might as well have brought her up, if that excuses her behavior. A man-eater, married five times to add to her faults. She wrinkled her nose with distaste.

Five times? She got through them, Joanie answered, shock waves rippling through her body.

I guess they found it hard to live with her.

That sounds very understanding. Why are you even bothering to find out about her? She raised her hand and added, I, for one, wouldn't wish to meet her.

Granny shot her a sharp look. That's rich coming from you.

Joanie snorted. I've never been described as a man-eater.

No, you can only boast of ruining one man's life, even after the divorce.

Joanie stared at her. Oh, then I can answer my question. You're interested as a nosy old bag who likes to take control of the village. Otherwise, you wouldn't care at all about this Elsie.

Granny smiled mischievously. You're almost right, but I care, a little. We were friends back in the sixties, my heyday. I never forget people from my heyday. Her eyes lit up as she talked about her era. We met at high school. I was her cookery teacher and visited her home a handful of times in Orchard Falcon. I always liked it here on those visits. That is what persuaded me to come and live here. Some favorite music came to mind from back in the day, and she hummed a tune that meant nothing to Joanie, who pulled a face.

What's that? It sounds as old as the arc.

That, my girl, is by the woman who gave you your name. Both sides now by Joni Mitchell.

She shook her brown head of hair. Never heard of her. How come you or Daddy never told me?

Your daddy never heard of her, either. It was I who suggested the name and your mother liked it. The only trouble is, your dad's no good at spelling.

Wait, it's spelled wrong? Her voice trembled.

Granny nodded. Hers is spelled with I and there's no A in the middle.

Great. My name is wrong. Her voice was low.

Sounds the same, doesn't it? Granny asked, irritated.

You're not helping. She folded her arms and pouted.

Let us get back to our original topic, Granny said.

It doesn't interest me.

You've no eye for people, that's your trouble, just like your daddy.

I prefer my horse.

Horses are not as interesting.

We will never see eye to eye. You don't want us to get on. Joanie breathed.

There are two sides to every argument.

That's not right. You upset Daddy when you ran away and came to live here, she shot back.

I didn't run away. Orchard Falcon is only twenty miles away from the city. I had to get away for a bit of peace to live out my remaining years. What's wrong with that? My family can't hold that against me. She spoke directly.

The living room door creaked open, and a tall, skinny young man with poetic features, dressed fashionably in black skinny jeans and an orange pullover, stumbled into the middle of the room. His face turned crimson.

The two women froze.

Who on earth are you and what are you doing in my living room? Granny asked, startled.

Joanie collected up her Gucci handbag ready to hit him over the head before she made a run for it.

I. . .  You're not aware who I am? He stammered.

That understates the case, Joanie scoffed.

He extended a shaking hand to Granny. Otto MacDonald. We spoke on the telephone. You said it was all right to walk in. His voice was soft and soothing, like music.

Granny was watching him and for all his awkwardness, he seemed like an intelligent young man to her. She slapped herself on the forehead. I'm sorry. I clean forgot about you. My granddaughter, Joanie. She's just leaving.

Joanie stuck out her tongue, and Otto looked from one to the other in shock.

Otto MacDonald never knew where life would take him. Like Joanie, he grew up in the city where he busked, only ever earning pennies at a time.

Joanie violently collected her things. Throwing on her coat, she said, I am leaving. Goodbye, Granny Smith. I hope you have a good life. She slammed the door on her way out, causing Granny and Otto to jump simultaneously out of their skins.

"Wait. . . She is coming back?" Otto asked, his voice high-pitched.

Don't worry about that, my son. Leave my family to me. We have some serious discussion ahead.

A ginger and black cat scurried from under Granny's chair and darted in a flash of color towards the kitchen, Otto twisted to watch it go.