Mischievous Murder: A Molly Tinker Mystery

By Misty Reddington

Mischievous Murder is a Molly Tinker Mystery. Molly gives up her park ranger job to help her police chief husband hunt for a killer. Instead of using her gun, she uses a broom to aprehend the killer. Two poodles are featured in all the Molly Tinker books.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Jun 24, 2023
• ISBN: 9781312415713

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

Jon walked into the conference room at police headquarters and gave a thumbs-up to the four cops sitting around the gray metal table. The table was government-issue and it looked it; it had seen better days.

I scuffed my chair across the tile floor and rushed over to hug him. He was my cousin; we looked alike with our red hair and our freckles, but I was ten years older. This was his first day, working as an intern under my husband Eric, chief of police in our small New England town.

I pulled away from Jon and pointed at the doughnut box on the corner of the table.

Eric smiled. We’re meeting this morning to discuss crime around town. Eric was in his thirties, blonde and a hunk of a man. At least in my eyes, and I was the only one whose opinion mattered.

Jon sat in a gray metal chair, matching the table, and looked earnest. He reached for a glazed doughnut and settled in to listen.

Deputy Chief Willie Monroe interrupted. Someone has been breaking into the parking meters near the bank. The guy is careless. He paused. He’s dropping quarters all over the sidewalk.

Willie was a thirty-something man, ten pounds overweight from eating too many doughnuts during police meetings. He was a good friend.

Have you looked at any of the nearby surveillance tapes?

Marty and I are going to canvass the neighborhood this morning.

Something else is happening in town, Marty said, a young man who looked like a professional baseball player, lean and graceful. I cruise by the small park near the bus depot each morning. There’s always a pile of old clothing on one of the benches. He glanced at our faces. I take the stuff to the Goodwill, but each morning there’s a new pile that’s higher.

Huh, I said. Maybe a homeless guy is leaving his stuff.

There’s too much stuff for a homeless person.

Jon, Eric said. Why don’t you figure out what’s going on.

I’ll start my investigation by talking with the store owners in the area. Maybe they know this clothes guy, Jon said. If I’m lucky, some owners may have cameras pointing at the park bench.

Jon, I said. If you need me, just stop by the park.

Chapter Two

I surveyed Pond Park, scanning every corner of its vastness. Seeing no trouble, I grabbed my bucket from the shed and picked up crumpled paper products and bits of old lunches, decaying under the picnic tables.

Just to make sure there was no trouble, I climbed the small hill to the evergreen tree and checked under its branches. No dead bodies. I sighed with relief.

An older model silver sedan drove into the parking lot and parked nose in to the stone wall that surrounded the duck pond. I headed in that direction to greet the park visitor.

A very overweight man opened the driver’s side door and swung out of the car. Before I could welcome him to the park, he shouted at me, asking where the parcourse was.

We only have the grassy lawn and a small hill, but that should work. Why don’t you walk twice around the park? That’s a mile.

Well, he said. That’s a good start.

When you get up to walking two miles, you can run up and down the hill. I pointed to the evergreen tree.

Great, he said, heading off for the far woods of maple and evergreen and birch trees.

I was eating a peanut butter cookie when Jon walked down the hill from downtown, swinging a child’s doll.

This is for Annie.

I looked puzzled. The doll had lost its original fresh appearance, now looking filthy and shabby, with mangled light brown hair, a dirty dress, and a scratch on its right cheek.

I found it under the pile of clothing on the park bench.

Why was it there?

Jon shrugged.

Sounds weird, I said. Do you have a clue who’s doing this?

It’s odd, Jon said. It seems that none of the store owners on the street wanted to spend the money to buy a surveillance camera.

Maybe surveillance cameras are expensive.

I’m going to find out what this is all about.

Guaranteed? I smiled.

Jon smiled. Yes.

Sit down. Have a cookie.

You know, Molly. You are so lucky. Jon glanced around at the green lawn and the huge old trees, and at the newly painted picnic tables. It’s so peaceful here.

Hardly. Some unappreciative people arrive here several times a day and give me a hard time.

We sat against the stone wall and practically hummed with delight, eating several peanut butter cookies.

What does Eric say about the doll?

Not much, Jon said.

Why don’t you put it in the evidence locker. I don’t think Annie would like it.

Aren’t my mother and I coming for dinner tonight? Jon paused to take another cookie from the white paper bakery bag. Are you cooking?

I shrugged as I looked at Jon’s face. Don’t look so worried. Eric is grilling hamburgers, and your mother is responsible for two salads.

What are we expected to do?

Not much, I said. Nobody seems to appreciate our cooking skills.

Molly, we don’t cook.

My mother taught me how to cook five of Eric’s favorite meals.

How did that work out?

I shrugged my reply.

Chapter Three

It was a nice evening. Eric was grilling hamburgers, and Aunt Ellen was making her salads in the kitchen.

Jon and I were playing with the dogs.

Baby Annie slept in her crib in the bedroom.

After doing all kinds of lessons with Jeremy and Tinker, I took both poodles into the kitchen and filled their bowls with kibble. Fortunately, they were dogs that enjoyed any kind of food I gave them. I didn’t have to top their kibble with cottage cheese or sliced steak.

Placing the bowls on two dog mats in the spare bedroom, I told them that I loved them, kissing my big white poodle on his nose and kissing my small black poodle on his head.

Be good, I said. I’ll take you for a long walk later.

Both dogs smiled up at me.

Eric and I, and our two guests, sat around the outdoor picnic table, one of the old tables that used to live at Pond Park. The grilled hamburgers were excellent, and the salads, both with avocado, were even better. We ate silently for several minutes.

Jon began the conversation. "What do you think