Poached: Lake Erie Mysteries, #4

By Olivia Breen

Fall is in full swing on Johnson's Island. The leaves are changing, chili is on the stove, and best friends Francie and June are looking forward to one of the last weekends of the season at the lake. Nothing newsworthy ever happens on the small island where June has borrowed a friend's cottage on the bay. Except for an unsolved disappearance of a young woman fifteen years ago on Halloween night.

The mystery gains new life when Francie chooses the cold case to research for an assignment in her quest to gain her degree in criminal justice. June is always on board to help her friend when it comes to a good mystery, but she has her own case to solve. Her beloved chihuahua, Teenie, has gone missing and June is worried sick. There has been a string of missing dogs plaguing the sleepy island for years.

In their search for the truth, they encounter residents who seem helpful, but may have more to hide than meets the eye. And no investigation at Halloween would be complete without ghostly sightings and potential danger lurking around every mum.

Can they find Teenie and unlock the secrets of the past before they are scared off the island? 

Cuddle up in front of a cozy fire with a spicy chai tea and stay tuned to see if this dynamic duo can once again"make the grade" and put the past to rest once and for all.

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Olivia Breen
• Release date: Oct 9, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223476900

Book preview

Chapter 1

It was a sparkling autumn day—the kind that makes midwesterners pause and take note. The sky was electric blue. The leaves on the trees were a riot of red, orange, and yellow, and the temperature was a perfect sixty-eight degrees. I stood at the French doors facing the backyard of the condo and took in the panoramic view of the lawn, the beach, and the blue-gray waters of Lake Erie stretching to the horizon. I tried to etch the image on my brain because I knew it would soon be gone. Autumn would give way to the bitter cold and winds of winter, but for now, my heart was full.

I need snacks. I need snacks.

I was still getting used to life with a talking parrot. Pretty Boy had become a member of the family at the beginning of September. It was now a week before Halloween. He seemed to enjoy his new digs at the condo, especially the beautiful wrought-iron cage my best friend, June, had given him as a housewarming gift. It still startled me when I heard his voice in an empty room. Other than that, the transition had been smooth. I hoped he would fare as well when we closed up the condo next month and settled back into our home on a quiet street in a Cleveland suburb.

Turning my back on the vista outside, I made my way to the kitchen and rummaged in the cupboard until I located the bag of Cheese Puffs I had stashed for Pretty Boy. They were his favorite. Unfortunately, my husband, Hammond, and I also had a weakness for the neon orange, salty, imitation food, so I tried to keep them out of sight and out of mind.

I held out my hand with the offering, and Pretty Boy flapped his gorgeous rainbow wings and flew from his cage, snagging the treats before my fingers could change colors. He settled on  the kitchen table where my laptop was open and books and papers were scattered over the entire surface. Shaking my head, I decided it was time to take a break from my homework and give June a call. I could use some input anyway.

She answered on the first ring. Hey, Francie, what’s up? Have you solved your crime yet? There was a twinge of anxiety in her voice, but I didn’t ask about the cause.

No. Pretty Boy is taking a turn with my notes at the moment. I’m not making much progress. What are you up to? Care to come over and help me with this? Maybe you can use your journalism skills to help me choose a topic for my project. Hamm is staying in Cleveland for work until Sunday, and I could use the company. I was about to put a pot of chili on the stove.

Any other day, and I’d jump at the chance. You know I never say no to a free meal. But...

The anxiety in her voice was loud and clear now.

What’s the matter June? Is everything okay?

The good news is I’m close by. I’m staying at the cottage, and Mike and Barb said I could bring Teenie with me for company.

Well, that was nothing to be stressed over. Mike and Barb were mutual friends who owned a waterfront home on Johnson’s Island and were known for their generosity. When they extended an invitation to use their property, you knew it was sincere. No strings attached. Johnson’s Island is a perfect vacation spot for anyone wishing for a low-key, laid-back island atmosphere with the added convenience of being connected to the mainland by a causeway. No ferry schedule to contend with and only about ten minutes from my place by car.

"That’s great, June, and you know Teenie is always welcome here. Miss Teenie Turner has all the respect from me, and Pretty Boy likes having company."

I appreciate that, Francie, but as I was saying, I’m at Mike and Barb’s cottage, and I brought Teenie with me for company.

I heard you the first time...

Let me finish. Please. As I was unpacking my car, Teenie disappeared. It’s not like her to run off. I’m usually tripping over her because she won’t leave my side. I’ve looked everywhere inside and outside, and she’s nowhere to be seen.

Oh no! I’m sorry for blabbing on. Do you want me to come help you look for her? I can be there in under fifteen minutes. She can’t have gotten too far. She’s probably hiding under something because she’s in unfamiliar surroundings.

You don’t have to. I know you were working on your project.

That’s the problem. I’ve hit a wall. I was spinning my wheels and looking for something, anything, to distract me. I’m leaving right now. We’ll find her and you can thank me by helping me with my project.

Thanks. I’d like that.

While I made the short trip, I thought about the changes over the past two months that had brought me to this new phase of life. My husband was still passionate about his law practice in the city and his boat at the lake. I had been a content empty-nester mother of twins and head of the drama department of the local college, but then I won a recipe contest, stumbled on a dead body in a pirate ship, ingested poison, and tested my physical and mental limits. In the end, I helped solve a murder, came home with a verbose bird, cut my teaching hours to part-time status, and signed up for online classes in criminal justice. I was sure now that karma or fate or even God himself was just shy of slapping me with my own flip-flop. After three encounters with murder solving in one year, I admitted to myself it was time to pursue a new career. After high school, I thought I wanted a career in law enforcement and was working as an intern to the Cleveland prosecuting attorney when I met the handsome law clerk destined to become my life partner and the father of my children. Over the years, I transitioned from my dreams of being an undercover sleuth to the satisfying reality of wife, mother, and eventually PhD in English and Drama. Up until now, I was happy to take on alternate personas without risking my life. In fact, I was convinced I had it all. But as I said, things change. One has to be open to new experiences.

Chapter 2

When I pulled up to Mike and Barb’s cottage, I was greeted with the sight of June’s denim-clad backside. Her head was level with the base of a well-tended hedge, and the rest of her was hidden by a colorful assortment of tote bags strewn haphazardly between her and her car. As far as I could tell, Teenie was not in the vicinity.

June’s focus never wavered from her mission, even when I began noisily calling the dog’s name while gathering up as many of the carry-alls as I could clutch to my bosom without scattering the whole lot and creating more chaos. I set the bags on the hood of her car, and when neither of us conjured up a fluffy Chihuahua with attitude, I resigned myself to waiting for June to make the next move. Finally, she looked up at me and her face told me more than any words could. Panic, worry, and a touch of anger coupled with the tears threatening to spill over her lashes rendered words unnecessary. I stretched out my arms. She fell into them.

Come on now, June, I said as I patted her back. There’s no need to be so upset. Teenie’s just wandered off. She’s exploring. She’s a lot like you, you know.

June straightened up and swiped the back of her hand across her cheeks.

I guess so, she reluctantly agreed. And she did disappear for a while when I was visiting here in August. I didn’t notice right away because we were all visiting in the backyard and I didn’t bother to leash her. She loves being around everyone and never ran off before. I’m not sure how long she was even gone. It was getting dark when a neighbor kid brought her back because he had seen her with us earlier. She had some twigs and a few burs stuck in her fur, but other than that she was fine.

There you are, I said. She’s probably sniffing her way around, trying to reconnect with some pals she made in August. Now let’s find that wayward pooch of yours. We’ve covered the yard, so we should expand the search. Chances are, a neighbor thought they were being helpful and brought her in their house to keep her safe, not realizing she wasn’t lost or her owner was worried. Who knows, maybe the same kid found her again. Do you know if he lives here or was visiting someone?

No, June replied, I didn’t even get his name.

Well, it doesn't matter. I’ll start down this side of the street and you go down the other. We can meet back at the cottage when we’re done.

Thanks Francie. It always makes things seem better when we come up with a plan. She gave me a quick hug and jogged across the street up to the first door on her side.

I sent up a quick prayer to Cyrus Mills, patron saint of lost dogs. I hadn’t thought of this particular saint since I did a report on him for Sister Mary Jolene’s fourth grade class. I had chosen St. Cyrus because I really wanted a puppy, and thought maybe he could send a misplaced mutt my way if I reported his special love of animals to my classmates. I smiled to myself as I remembered fourth-grade me proudly presenting my paper with the big red A+ at the top to my mother who promptly displayed it on the refrigerator. Now, for June’s sake, I hoped he was awake and listening.

There were five cottages on my side of the road, not counting Mike and Barb’s place, each one unique but perfectly suited to the laid-back island lifestyle of the residents. I only saw vehicles parked in front of the furthest two, but to be on the safe side, I knocked on the front doors of the first three houses and, no surprise, got no answer. After that, I walked around the outside of each property calling Teenie’s name. Still nothing. As I approached the fourth house, I noticed a white pick-up truck in the driveway with its motor running. There didn’t appear to be anyone inside the truck, so I decided to try the front door assuming the driver had popped back inside for some forgotten item. As I crossed the driveway behind the truck, it lurched into reverse missing me by mere inches. A cloud of dirt and gravel shot over me, leaving me coughing and feeling like Pig Pen from the Peanuts comic strip.

What the heck! I yelled as the truck and its invisible driver screeched down the driveway and disappeared around the corner without so much as an apology.

Are you alright little lady?

The voice came from the porch of the house next door. I could tell it was a man, probably a generation older than me, because seriously, who says little lady these days? I looked both ways before recrossing the driveway and greeting the person attached to the voice.

Yes, I’m fine, thank you. That was a close one. I never saw anyone inside the truck or I would have been more careful.

The man standing on his porch with his arms crossed chuckled. His friendly hazel eyes took my measure and when they had had their fill and deemed me acceptable, he spoke. That was Pat driving. She can barely see over the steering wheel, and even if she could, she’s blind as a bat. I don’t know how the authorities haven’t suspended her driver’s license yet. On second thought, that probably wouldn’t stop her.

The homeowner started down his steps to meet me on the sidewalk. I was right about his age. He reminded me of my Grandpa—slight in build with thinning white hair and a trim mustache. Nostalgia washed over me the moment I saw the pipe he held between his teeth. The sweet scent of cherry tobacco preceded him as he approached. He gave my hand a firm squeeze and introduced himself. My name is George. How can I help you? Or were you looking for Pat?

More like dodging her, I muttered under my breath.

Sorry, what was that? I took my hearing aid out during my afternoon nap.

Oh nothing, it was a bad joke. I’m Francie. I’m helping my friend who’s staying at Mike and Barb’s cottage down the road. Do you know them? Her dog ran off just after they arrived, and June, my friend, is getting worried. I don’t suppose you’ve seen a little dog with Tina Turner hair circa 1985 running around?

Oh no, not another one. George looked more concerned over a missing Chihuahua  he had never met than I would have expected.  He motioned toward his screened porch and invited me to follow him. Normally, I wouldn’t follow a stranger into his home, but this small island community with its longtime residents didn’t really conform to today's trust no one and watch your back norms, so when he held open the door, I followed him up the porch steps. I think I better fill you in on a little island history before you go looking under the wrong bush for your friend’s dog and stir up more than a lost bone. George patted the cushion of the well-loved wicker sofa in front of him, and I dutifully sat down for my Johnson’s Island history lesson. I thought I was taking a break from learning for the afternoon, but what could it hurt to humor the nice old guy for a few minutes?

So, George, may I ask why my friend’s dog going missing seems so noteworthy? Dogs run off all the time, and I’m fairly certain Teenie is just off sniffing out the new environment. She’s never been one to wander off for long.

My host picked at an invisible piece of lint on his cuff either gathering his thoughts or stalling for time which I found odd since he was the one who invited me over. Finally he clasped his hands in his lap and spoke.

I’m not sure where to begin, or how much of this has to do with your friend's dog, but there have been some strange things going on around here for a long time. Things that don’t sit well with me. Now that an outsider is asking, it feels like a good time to speak my mind.

Whoa. Outsider? What had I gotten into here? I told myself I’d give him ten minutes and then I’d move on. To him I said, Please, George, tell me more.

He leaned back in his chair and began. "It all started about fifteen years ago at the annual Halloween Party. The island does it up big. People come from all over: Marblehead, Sandusky, even Port Clinton. Everyone dresses up and there are prizes for the best costume. I remember I went as the Grim Reaper which turned out to be a choice I have regretted to this day.

The visitor center outside the cemetery was the center of the party. I can only tell you what I know from what I observed that night, but I did get a few extra details from my cleaning girl Nora after the fact. She was Bonnie’s roommate, you know.

I snapped to attention at the mention of the name. Bonnie Shepherd? Are you talking about the young woman who went missing from the island fifteen years ago?

Yes dear, it’s all part of the story. I figured you’d want to know.

He figured correctly. Of course I wanted a firsthand account. I think I had finally found the perfect subject for my assignment. Bonnie’s story was one of the first cases I had explored, and now this serendipitous meeting seemed like an indication this was the obvious choice. I was going to buy a special treat for Teenie when this was all over. Of course, George. Please go on.

As I was saying, Bonnie’s roommate Nora was cleaning houses, including mine, while she was studying to get her realtor’s license.

He paused to light his pipe before continuing his tale. "I was sitting at a table with my neighbor Pat and a few of the other longtime residents. We were getting our fill of spaghetti with eyeballs and spider salad when Trenton came rushing into the room. Trenton was Bonnie’s boyfriend. I was surprised to see him there because Nora told me she was coming to the party with Bonnie since her boyfriend was going to be out of town. Trenton was somewhat of a hometown hero. He got a position with the Toledo Mud Hens baseball team right out of high school and was on his way to a major league career. He asked if we had seen Bonnie. He looked all panicked and disheveled. That’s exactly what I