Mistaken Murder and Small Town Status: Katy Cross Murder Mystery, #7

By KC Hart

Someone in Skeeterville has a deadly plan for Hernando, and it's up to Katy to uncover the truth.

When a sixty-thousand-dollar stud bull is shot in his pasture and falls on one of his owners, crushing him to death, Katy Cross, along with everyone else in Skeeterville, assumes it's nothing more than a tragic accident. But when the only person who suspected foul play is attacked, Katy knows it's time to act. She must find the true murderer and uncover their connection to the dead cash cow before it's too late.

Join Katy Cross and her friends and family in Skeeterville as they work together to solve this latest mystery. This Christian cozy mystery contains no gore, sex, or foul language, but is full of humor and southern small town charm. If you are a fan of Murder She Wrote, you will love amateur detective Katy Cross.  

• Language: English
• Publisher: KC Hart
• Release date: Sep 14, 2021
• ISBN: 9798223461364

KC Hart

KC Hart is the award-winning author of best-selling Christian cozy mysteries, contemporary inspirational small-town romance, and has also dabbled in historical romance as well. KC is an independent publisher and released her first title, book one of the Katy Cross cozy mystery series, the summer of 2020. KC’s goal is to seamlessly bring entertaining stories full of small-town life to her readers that gently weave in the faith and the love of Christ. KC lives in rural Mississippi with Mr. Wonderful, her husband o forty years. When she is not writing, she is playing her piano or guitar, reading, or spending time with her family, especially the grandkids. You can keep up with KC by joining her monthly newsletter:  http://www.kchartauthor.com/newsletter.html KC is also on Good Reads, Book Bub, Amazon and Facebook: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/20570083.K_C_Hart https://www.bookbub.com/profile/kc-hart?list=author_books www.amazon.com/author/kchartauthor https://www.facebook.com/KCWRITESBOOKS

Book preview

Chapter One

The thunderous explosion of the shotgun cut through the air. The bullet escaped from the barrel and raced toward its target. Katy’s upper arm jerked back as the butt of the gun kicked against her shoulder. Luckily, the sweatshirt over her t-shirt blocked out the cool air they were experiencing the week before Thanksgiving. It also gave a little protection against the stock of the gun slamming into her flesh. I don’t think I’m ever going to get the hang of this, she said, watching as the skeet continued to fly across the sky, untouched by her shot. How do the rest of y’all make it look so easy?

You are shooting behind the skeet. John took the gun from Katy’s hand to reload for his turn. You have to figure in the fact that the skeet is moving and aim where it’s going to be when the shot reaches its destination. He looked across the empty field toward the sunny blue sky and the tree line on the distant horizon. You have to think ahead. Calculate where it will be when you pull the trigger.

Oh, well, that explains everything, Katy said, rolling her eyes. There’s math involved. I never participate in leisure activities where math is involved. It sort of sucks the fun right out of it for me.

Maybe we should have gone to the driving range instead. Misty patted Katy on the back. I can’t believe you haven’t hit a single skeet. I guess since you are so competitive, I assumed you would be good at this.

Nope. Katy stepped away from John as he prepared to take his shot. She watched as her husband yelled for the skeet to be released. The barrel of his gun trailed the target across its path with precision, and the bursting shards of the skeet followed the sound of the shot as the shotgun pellets shattered it to pieces. I promise I am doing what you are telling me to do, honey, she said to her husband’s back.

All you need is a little more practice. John called for the next release, not bothering to look at Katy. He shattered the second clay disc as effortlessly as he did the first one. When’s the last time you shot a gun? I know it’s been a while. This is the first time we’ve been to the shooting range since we took that taser class, and we didn’t do anything gun related then.

Katy watched as John stepped back from the shooting area and Mike stepped up. Your momma was watching Mamie and Eudie one day years ago before they started school. Remember how I shot that chicken snake out of the oak tree in her back yard? How did I do it? I just stuck the gun up and fired, and the snake fell out of the tree. I can’t even load a gun. Your momma had to do it for me. She would have done the shooting, too, if her arthritis hadn’t been giving her fits.

That wasn’t yesterday, Misty said. And a skeet is moving a lot faster than a chicken snake.

But I can see the skeet. Katy pushed her lips into a frown as she watched Mike’s skeets explode into pieces with each shot. I didn’t see anything but leaves the day I fired into that tree.

Do you want me to start missing a few so you will feel better? John asked, tilting his chin down toward his wife.

Like that’s going to happen. Katy elbowed her husband in the ribs. No, I will quit draining all the joy out of the day and try to be a good loser. But look. She pointed as Misty raised the shotgun and fired at the skeet, easily hitting the target. Misty doesn’t shoot a gun all the time, either, and she is hitting, what, sixty-five or seventy percent of hers?

More like eighty. Mike winked at Misty as she stepped back and passed off the gun. But I think she is a natural.

I can do this. Katy blew out a long puff of air. She stepped back up to the shooting area and took the loaded gun from John. 

Just remember, aim where the skeet is going so you won’t shoot behind the moving target. That is what you are doing every single time, honey.

Ahead of the skeet, Katy whispered as she raised the gun to her shoulder. Aim ahead to where it is going, not where it is or where it has been. PULL! she yelled. The skeet flew across the horizon, and the barrel of Katy’s gun tracked it across the sky. She adjusted the barrel and squeezed the trigger just as the clay disc began its descent toward the earth. The pellets hit their mark, and the clay exploded into shards, raining to the ground.

Whoop! Whoop! Misty shouted as the skeet exploded into pieces. You did it, girlfriend.

See, John said, slapping Katy on the back. You’re getting the hang of it. We keep at this a little while longer, and you will be ready to go deer hunting with me next week.

Katy stepped back in place for her second shot, yelled, and tracked the skeet across the sky again. The shot exploded in her ear, and the skeet fell to the ground, completely intact. I wouldn’t hold my breath, she laughed. I’m just going to be thankful that my hunting skills aren’t what we are depending on to feed the family.

How much? Katy’s eyebrows shot up as she set her Diet Coke back on the table and stared at her husband. They had finished at the shooting range and driven into Skeeterville to eat dinner. Misty had been planning this double date since the beginning of the summer. It had taken six months for both couples to come together and finally make it happen. They had all agreed that the end of a perfect date included Willie’s cooking.

I believe he said fifty-six thousand, John said, picking up his chicken sandwich. It was either fifty-six thousand or sixty-six thousand. I can’t remember for sure.

You say that like it’s no big deal, Katy gawked. Your brother paid sixty-six thousand dollars for a bull?

No, you aren’t understanding me. John took a bite of his sandwich, and Katy waited for him to swallow so he could continue. He paid sixty-six thousand for half of the bull.

Which half? Misty cackled, glancing at John and then over to Katy, who looked like she had just swallowed a porcupine.

I guess you would say that he is invested in this bull, John said, ignoring Misty’s comment. It’s a prize-winning, high-dollar stud bull. Doug and another man went in together and bought him. Both of them have breeder rights, and both get a portion of the stud fee when the bull is hired out.

First of all, Katy argued as she held up one finger, that sounds awful and disgusting, and well, wrong. Second of all... She held up another finger and stared at her husband. I don’t care if the bull has gold pellets in its cow patties, there is no way it’s worth that kind of money.

Preach, sista, Misty said, grinning from ear to ear and winking at Mike.

First of all, John countered as he held one finger up and rolled his head around on his shoulders like a chicken, it’s a bull, not your cousin George. Animal husbandry is a legitimate business. If I am remembering correctly, you insisted on seeing Belinda’s parents before you agreed to buy our beloved bloodhound. And second... John leaned forward, put his elbow in the center of the table and waved two fingers in front of Katy’s face. Doug said that he will make his money back in less than two years. After that, he is making money with very little physical labor on the part of the investor. It’s smart business.

What does Donna have to say about all of this? Katy asked, not ready to cede the argument. I’m sure your sister-in-law has some strong opinions about spending that kind of money on one single cow.

It’s a bull, and she’s fine with it, I guess. John shrugged his shoulders. Doug didn’t say anything about that.

Uh-huh. Katy gave a knowing nod. I will get the real story on Thursday at Thanksgiving.

Is he keeping the bull in one of his fields? Mike asked. 

No, it’s out at Carl Ray Allen’s place, John said, looking at Mike. Carl Ray put up half of the money and is responsible for caring for the animal. From what Doug is telling me, it’s all a very business-like deal. They both had to sign a contract, and they even have insurance on the animal.

You have a picture? Mike set down his double bacon cheeseburger. I’m starting to feel a little like Katy. I want to see this animal.

No, but we can get Doug to ride out to Carl Ray Allen’s place with us to see it tomorrow if you want to. John took a sip of his sweet tea. He says Hernando is a mighty fine animal.

Hernando? Katy laughed. You’re joking.

Nope. John’s face broke into a grin. My little brother paid around sixty thousand dollars for half a bull named Hernando. Yeah, I can see already that he’s gonna take a lot of ribbing on Thanksgiving about this.

Y’all want dessert? Hannah asked, stepping up to the table in her usual red Burger Barn t-shirt, faded blue jeans, and a white apron tied around her slim waist. We are out of banana pudding, but there’s plenty of pie.

I want chocolate pie, Misty said, smiling at the young waitress.

Me, too, Katy chimed in. John and Mike both ordered cheesecake. Katy watched as Hannah walked back toward the counter. Guess who’s going to be at the big Cross family Thanksgiving this year? Katy whispered, leaning toward Misty.

Who? Misty looked toward the counter. Hannah?

Yep, Katy grinned. Todd finally got around to asking her out. They are going deer hunting Thanksgiving morning and coming back out to Doug and Donna’s afterward.

Whoa, Todd’s bringing her back to meet the whole Cross clan? Misty’s eyes stretched wide. The boy ain’t messing around.

I don’t think the boy has thought the whole thing through. He’s not thinking about what everybody will say at the reunion, he’s thinking about how pretty Hannah looks when she brings him his lunch every day. John dipped a fry in ketchup and raised it to his lips. Besides, everybody already knows Hannah, anyway. Her daddy lives out near Doug. It ain’t like she’s a stranger.

But she’s never been introduced as Todd’s date. You know all his cousins and aunts and uncles are going to hound him. Our daughters will be leading the pack. Katy picked a fry off of John’s plate. And since when did Todd ever bother to go hunting on Thanksgiving? He’s usually watching football and aggravating the little ones. I’ve never known him to be a big hunter. Is he just going to look all manly for Hannah?

I think the hunting was Hannah’s idea. John smiled as the waitress walked up with a tray holding four saucers of pie. That looks good.

It is, Mr. John. Hannah tilted the heavy tray down from her shoulder with practiced ease. I’m bringing one of Willie’s lemon icebox pies to the Thanksgiving thing Thursday. I know it’s Todd’s favorite. 

I hear you have a date early Thanksgiving morning, Misty said, taking a saucer with a slice of chocolate pie from the tray. You should make that boy take you out somewhere nice for your first date.

He offered to take me to a fancy restaurant, Hannah explained as she passed Mike his saucer, but I ain’t missing deer hunting. Todd said he’s not much of a hunter, but I told him I will teach him everything he needs to know.

You two should have come skeet shooting with us this afternoon, John said, taking the last slice of pie from the girl’s hand. That would have given Todd a little practice.

Nah. Hannah tucked the tray under her arm. That ain’t hunting. Anybody can hit them ole clay saucers.

Yeah. John winked at Katy. Anybody can do that.

Chapter Two

I will meet you at Doug and Donna’s later. John took the last sip of his coffee. After we are done hunting, I’ll drop Belinda back by the house and head over that way. We should be back before time to eat unless we kill something. I’ll call you if that happens.

Poor Moose. Katy looked out the patio door. He’s going to feel so left out when you drive off in the truck with Belinda. Are you sure he can’t go with you, too?

Honey. John walked over to the sink and rinsed out his cup before putting it in the dishwasher. Moose chases squirrels, his tail, his shadow, leaves - anything that moves.

Well, that’s good, ain’t it? That means he would chase a deer without any problem.

No, that means I would spend my entire morning chasing after Moose while he chased after everything under the sun besides the deer. He would just keep Belinda distracted. John walked over to the bar and looked at the dogs through the patio door. Moose was roaming around the edge of the yard, lifting his leg every few steps and sprinkling the wooden fence. Belinda was flopped out on her belly under the patio table asleep. He’s a good watchdog and a great pet, but he’s not a deer dog.

Where are you going hunting? Katy swallowed her last drop of coffee. I believe Eudie said Tubby and Joe are going with a couple of Joe’s brothers, but I’m not sure where.

This is the biggest hunting day in Skeeterville. You’ll see more camouflage around today and through the weekend than you do for the entire rest of the year. Every man, woman, and child who likes to hunt will be out today. A smile hinted at the corners of John’s lips. Are you sure you don’t want to go?

Positive. I guess Hannah loves to hunt, and I know Baby Girl enjoys hunting, but it’s not my thing. She stood up from her barstool and picked up her empty breakfast plate. But more power to you. I do enjoy deer meat when it’s cooked right.

Well, I’ve got to get Belinda and get going or Doug is going to leave without me. He picked his camouflage jacket off of the empty barstool and slipped it on. I’ve sat here talking too long.

Where are you going to be hunting? Katy asked again. You didn’t say.

Oh, we are just going to be in the woods behind Doug’s house. John unlocked the patio door and slid the glass open, letting in a morning breeze of cool air. We can’t go over to Carl Ray’s place now that he has invested so much money in his livestock. He’s put ‘No Trespassing’ signs up all around his land and told everybody at the domino house that he better not see a hunter or hear a gunshot anywhere on his place. If he did, he would be calling the law.

Carl Ray always has been a charming fella, Katy said, sarcasm evident in her voice. I’m sure he is mister popularity about right now.

Well, it’s his land and his livestock. He has a right to tell people to stay off.

I know that, but I know how Carl Ray is, too. It’s not what he says; it’s how he says it. He has about as much tact and consideration as a mule.

Good morning, family. Penny, their oldest daughter, stepped into the kitchen in her Captain Caveman pajamas, curly black hair sticking up in every direction. She had driven down from Memphis, Tennessee, yesterday and spent the afternoon and a lot of the evening in the kitchen cooking in preparation for the big Thanksgiving Day meal. Daddy, don’t forget to tell Uncle Doug that it’s his turn to referee the flag football game this year. 

Every year, after lunch and a little down time talking and napping, the Cross family divided into two teams and had a no-holds-barred game of flag football. The winning team got to keep the coveted rubber chicken all year at their house until the next big game. 

Last year Penny had been one team captain, and Todd had been the other. The game had been close, but Todd had the chicken sitting on the mantle in his little house. He had sent Penny and the rest of the family photos off and on through the year of him and the chicken eating lunch, riding in the truck, watching TV, just doing anything to rub in his team’s victory. Penny knew she would not be team captain again this year, but she desperately wanted her team to win that chicken. 

I won’t forget, honey. John gave his daughter a hug, then kissed Katy lightly on the lips before stepping out the backdoor. I’ve got to run.

I talked to Eudie last night, Penny said, pushing a wad of curls away from her forehead. She said Mamie got there around nine and is staying with her for the weekend. She opened the refrigerator, pulled out a carton of full pulp orange juice, and stumbled sleepily to the bar. All you have to do today is take the deviled eggs out of the fridge, get the sweet potato crunch from the oven when the timer goes off, and pour up the tea. She looked around the kitchen and tapped her finger to her cheek. I will put the sweet potatoes in the oven before I leave. If you need me to help you get everything together, I can.

I believe I can handle making a gallon of tea and taking something from the oven and the fridge. Katy took a clean dishcloth from the drawer and turned on the hot water at the kitchen sink. Your Aunt Donna is expecting you to come help her get set up before everyone starts pouring in for the afternoon meal.

I know, Mother, Penny said, taking the damp cloth from Katy and wiping the countertop. She had dribbled orange juice while pouring it in her favorite glass. She lifted the glass with a picture of Darth Vader saying I only drink freshly squeezed. But I don’t want to leave you high and dry.

Katy’s other three daughters called her Momma, but Penny had been three years old when John read her the Dr. Seuss book, Are You My Mother? Penny had called Katy Mother ever since.

I will be fine, I promise.

Where’s Penny? Katy asked five hours later, handing the sweet potato crunch to her sister-in-law. She had already brought in the deviled eggs and tea. Penny had brought the pecan pies she had made the night before with her, along with the rice crispy treats for the children. 

She’s out on the back porch helping AJ set up the kids’ tables. Donna took the warm nine-by-thirteen glass pan, covered tightly with foil and wrapped with a kitchen towel, from Katy’s hand. Do you want me to get her for you?

No. Katy bit her lower lip and looked at the pan as Donna set it on the bar with many other dishes of food. I was on the patio talking on the phone and didn’t hear the timer go off. She lifted the corner of the tin foil for Donna to see. It’s a little on the brown side.

It is fine. Donna examined the casserole covered with caramelized brown sugar and pecans. If you don’t mention it, nobody will notice a thing.

Oh, Penny will notice, Katy said, pushing the foil down. You know how she is about cooking.

Don’t you worry about Penny. Donna stepped over to the trash can and lifted the lid for Katy to see. A batch of homemade yeast rolls with charred black bottoms stared back at Katy, causing her face to break out into a smile.

How in the world did that happen? Katy laughed. Penny never burns anything. 

Todd happened. Donna put the lid back on the trash can. Right about the time the rolls were supposed to come out of the oven, Penny’s phone started blowing up with pictures of Todd and that stupid rubber chicken. He sent about fifteen pictures, and the last one was him and the chicken and his new girlfriend in the woods hunting. We all got distracted laughing and watching Penny send back smack talk. The next thing we knew, we smelled burned rolls. It was only one tray, so we still have plenty.

I’m glad Doug is refereeing the football game this year. Katy looked out the back door where cars were pulling in, filled with aunts, uncles, cousins, and other relatives and friends. The Cross family reunion was the biggest get-together John’s family had every year. John was the oldest of seven siblings, including one set of twins. By the time all the brothers and sisters, their spouses, and kids came together, along with his parents, uncles and aunts, and all of their kids and grandkids who faithfully came, there were usually well over one hundred people in the back yard and house. 

The football game was made up of the cousins who were in their teens, twenties, and thirties. The younger family members who couldn’t wait until they were old enough to be chosen on a team cheered them on, along with the older family members who were thankful that their days of playing were behind them. John and his brothers rotated the job of referee every year to make it fair. They always brought any call that was questioned before John’s daddy, who shamelessly took bribes from his grandchildren, nieces, and nephews to sway the call in their favor. 

Look at this, Donna said, walking over to the pantry. AJ and Alf bought these yesterday to bribe Mr. Gus to throw the game. Katy looked at the enormous bag of chocolate kisses and burst out laughing. Penny and Eudie are going to die when they see this. AJ and Alf were Doug and Donna’s two sons, who were about the same age as Eudie, Mamie, and Todd. The cousins had been thick as thieves as kids and still loved each other’s company, even though they didn’t see each other very often anymore.

I know, Donna laughed. That’s the first thing AJ said when he came in yesterday. He said that if Penny was on the losing team two years in a row, he would be a happy man.

What are y’all laughing at? Eudora asked as she and Mamie, Katy’s twins, walked in the back door. Man, it smells good in here. Donna quickly closed the pantry door, and both women turned around. 

Just catching up, Katy said, leaning over and kissing the almost identical faces on the cheeks. You two are just in time to help carry out the food.

That’s why we came in. Penny said it’s about time to bring everything out. Eudora looked around at the different dishes. Aunt Donna, there’s already a ton of food out there. Everybody is just setting their dishes on the tables as they walk up.

That’s fine, honey. This is mostly slow cookers that were plugged in and the dishes that a few of the aunts that got here early left on the bar. Donna unplugged a giant slow cooker full of chicken and dumplings. We better get to it. That looks like your daddy and Uncle Doug driving up now. The morning hunt must be over.

It doesn’t look like they killed anything either, Katy said, watching through the back door as the women each picked up a dish to take out to the tables. She followed them out and set the dish of sweet potato crunch on the table Penny had designated for vegetables. Katy personally considered the dish closer to a dessert, but she didn’t buck the system.

She watched as Doug walked over to Donna and whispered something in her ear. Katy couldn’t hear what they were saying from where they stood a few tables over, but the look of alarm on Donna’s face was obvious. What’s going on? she whispered to John as he stepped up to the table beside her. Did somebody get hurt on the hunt?

Yeah, Hernando is dead. Somebody shot the high-dollar bull.

Chapter Three

W hy would somebody shoot Hernando? Katy sat in a lawn chair beside her husband under the shade of one of the oak trees in Doug’s enormous backyard. She had been dying to ask John what had happened ever since he told her about the bull, but their kids had come over to hug their daddy. Mr. Gus, John’s father, then asked