A Turkey Parade and Murder: Parker Bell Humorous Mystery, #6

By Sharon E. Buck

There's a new radio DJ in Po'thole (pronounced Po Ho by the natives and Pothole by anyone north of the Florida-Georgia line) riling up the locals because of his accent and attitude. He's from further north of the South Carolina state line. He has colluded with the local chamber of commerce to have a turkey parade complete with an obstacle course. What could possibly go wrong?

Parker Bell and the always sugar-and-caffeine infused Lady Gatorettes are feuding with the chamber, the radio station, the DJ, and anyone else who gets in their way, including the turkeys.

Murder, mayhem, and mischief - what more could you ask for at Thanksgiving?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Southern Chick Lit
• Release date: Dec 10, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223362029

Sharon E. Buck

True confession time. I have a wicked sense of humor in case you hadn’t noticed. My true desire and hope is that I made you laugh while reading this book. My mission is to change the world with laughter one book at a time.   I write the Florida Parker Bell humorous mystery series featuring the Lady Gatorettes. Florida crazy isn't just for tourists, the natives are unique in their own special way. Those zany folks who who live in northeast Florida can't quite make up their minds if they belong in Florida or south Georgia. They do believe in having a good time along with some mayhem, mischief, murder, and wackiness thrown in there. My laugh-out-loud books are clean with no cursing or graphic sex. Read them today!   I grew up in Palatka, Florida, traveled the Southeast extensively for a number of years, and currently reside in Jacksonville, Florida. I decided for my health and well-being it was better to live elsewhere once people in my hometown realized the Parker Bell Cozy Mystery series is loosely (very loosely, according to my attorney) based on them.   When I’m not doing my favorite thing…writing…I enjoy walking her little rescue dog, traveling, reading books, and cracking my friends up with funny stories and my sense of humor.

Book preview

Chapter 1

What could possibly go wrong in a small sleepy Southern town during November? It’s the month that kicks off the Christmas festivities and leads into New Year parties. Families and friends get together for sumptuous meals, watching football games, buying gifts for Christmas, the weather is cooler, and annual holiday parades.

I love November or I did before I moved back to Po’thole, Florida. Allegedly the Northeast Florida temperature never rises above the mid-eighties, the weather people were wrong.

Sweating buckets – not the dainty, ladylike little beads of perspiration you gently blot up with a designer towel the size of a postage stamp – no, I was sweating like I had been dunked in the full emersion baptismal font of any charismatic church.

There were serious sweat rivers running down my back, the front of my blouse, and under my arms. There’s nothing ladylike about the way I sweat.

It was ninety degrees today and it was early November, but I was also sweating with anger from my conversation with the president of the Po’thole Chamber of Commerce.

I was seething. The president of the chamber, B.P. Harris, real name Bernadette Penelope, and I were standing toe-to-toe arguing about the reason why I couldn’t become a member.

B.P., a tall, thin, lanky gal with sad blue eyes and stringy red hair – yeah, I didn’t know God made stringy red hair on people either – was politely rude in saying I could not join the chamber because my ‘character’ was not of the caliber they were looking for.

Are you flipping serious? I managed to growl out. I’m sure I had one of those ugly anger veins pop out on my forehead. I was clenching my fists and my toes were curling up in my sneakers. I own one of the most elite cyber security companies in the world, I write best-selling books which, let me point out, are based on this little town and has increased your tourism…

Parker, B.P.’s voice was starting to become strained. Yes, it’s increased our tourism dollars in the county but it’s because people want to see where all of the murders have taken place. This does not denote the image we wish to promote for Po Ho.

Po’thole, technically pronounced Poat – like goat – hole, all of the locals pronounce it Po Ho, including B.P. but just around people she knows. Anyone north of the Florida-Georgia state line call it Pot Hole. It’s located on the sparkling beautiful St. Johns River and has some of the most spectacular sunsets in the world.

Taking a deep breath and trying to remind myself why I actually bought a luxurious home here on the St. Johns River and sorta, maybe moved back here, I explained, B.P., I would make a great addition to the chamber. I have business contacts that would consider moving their companies here. That would certainly stimulate the local economy.

But, she shook her head in a manner trying to appease me while not budging an inch in her attitude, you’re in tight with the Lady Gatorettes…

You let Georgie ‘Brains’ Cannon join and he’s got a rap sheet as long as my arm.

She sniffed and slightly shifted her body weight on her two abnormally large feet crammed into black flats. He’s now a city commissioner and all city commissioners automatically become a member. If you remember, he was elected after Johnny ‘Ten Fingers’ died.

So you’ll let known criminals…

B.P. held up her hands, her body posture stiffened slightly. He was elected by a large margin, Parker, and he has never spent time in jail.

I snorted and leaned slightly forward so that I may or may not have invaded her personal body space. Apparently, she was used to this and didn’t change positions. So much for my intimidation tactics. So he’s Johnny ‘Ten Fingers’ all over again. All of these arrests but no convictions. Interesting, B.P., interesting.

Parker, he’s a city commissioner and…

Stop! I held up my hands, I was so frustrated. Here I am trying to be supportive of the local community and I’m being denied. I was arguing with myself why I came back and bought a home here. The hamster in my head was apparently training for a sprint because my thoughts were a mish mosh of not nice opinions about B.P. and her precious chamber. I shook my head to clear my thoughts.

Taking a deep breath and trying to keep from snarling, I snapped, Stop right there! I am no longer interested in joining the chamber. You’re right, I would not be a good member. I have too many ideas on how to improve things here. Have a good day! I stomped out of the chamber’s office. Yes, I slammed the door.

I was fuming. Normally, it takes a lot to make me really mad. I’m a computer geek and writer. We’re supposed to be the introverted, quiet, never-get-mad types. That’s really not me. I’m like a firecracker ready to explode at any given moment.

Taking deep, calming breaths to steady myself on the way home, I started to giggle. It might have been because I had not had enough caffeine this morning or, the more likely reason, was because I wondered how the girls, the Lady Gatorettes, were going to take this latest bit of ‘discrimination’ against them…and me. They had already been turned down several times for membership in the chamber.

They had warned me that I was probably not going to be allowed to join the chamber because of my friendship with them. In short, the chamber was afraid I’d let the girls attend the functions and disrupt things. I was willing to bet money there was going to be a lot of us-against-them comments and ideas on how to massively irritate the snootiness of the chamber.

I wasn’t wrong.

Chapter 2

The Lady Gatorettes came charging into my large, spacious, gleaming white kitchen and plopped down at the sparkling dark green with little white flecks of white and gold island countertop. Chattering away, I strongly suspected monkeys in the Amazon sounded like this, they were almost spilling over with an almost unbelievable amount of sugar-and-caffeine high. It was like they were on speed. Whoosh! At the speed of light. They were chattering so fast I couldn’t keep up with them.

I laughed. Out loud. Perhaps a little bit too loud because they all stopped and stared at me for almost a full five seconds before they started up again.

Shaking my head and grinning, I clapped my hands and said, Ladies, ladies, may I have your attention, please!

They ignored me. They were prone to doing that. I still liked them.

I knew what would make them pay attention to me. So I yelled out the one word that would make them drop everything. Doughnuts!

And, just like that, they stopped the insane amount of noise and word verbiage emanating from their mouths and swiveled their heads to look at me.

I grinned a Cheshire cat grin. Guess what happed at the chamber this morning?

Misty Dawn eyed me and said, Wouldn’t let you join either, would they?

Shaking my head no and trying to wiggle just one eyebrow skyward. That skill has eluded me although I’m still trying to learn it. I kind of laughed.

All of the girls frowned and arched one eyebrow in unison. Rut row! Something was amiss here and it wasn’t just us not becoming members of the chamber.

Um, I cautiously asked looking around at them. What’s going on?

The girls looked at each other. Mary Jane got up, opened my freezer door, and took out a box of frozen doughnuts. Carefully placing several of them on a plate, plopped it in the microwave and chiding me said, You shouldn’t offer doughnuts, Parker, if you don’t have them out.

I guess I flunked the Miss Hospitality test on that one.

Now’s probably a good time for me to introduce you to the Lady Gatorettes. The girls were loose cannons at best and beyond crazy at their worst. As wild and crazy as they could be on copious amounts of coffee and sugar, they could be very loyal friends…but no sane person should ever, ever cross them. It’s not pretty.

Since coming back here and being involved in solving numerous murders, I didn’t do them I swear, I passed whatever silent initiation rite they had and I’m now an official member of the Lady Gatorettes.

The Lady Gatorettes are a group of hormonal, caffeine-and-sugar infused women who are die-hard University of Florida football fans. They created their own club after being refused membership in the locally sanctioned Gator Booster Club. They may have been a wee bit too exuberant at one of the meetings, the cops were called, and it was agreed by both parties that it would be better for everyone concerned if they didn’t attend any more sanctioned meetings.

Misty Dawn, the ringleader, has dark brown hair, brown eyes, and has that long, lean look of an athlete or a Marine just out of boot camp. She would have been the perfect Marine, she’s swift, silent, and deadly.

She was born on a foggy morning and her mother, who may or may not have been under alleged heavy sedation at the time and who was very superstitious in general, decided God was giving her a very clear sign that her precious little baby girl should be named Misty Dawn.

I don’t think Misty Dawn ever forgave her for such a dainty name because she was anything but dainty. In fact, I think Misty Dawn goes out of her way to prove she’s strong, she’s tough, and she can outswear a sailor any day of the week. Apparently, I’ve been a good influence on her because she tries very hard not to swear around me.

Misty Dawn’s married to John Boy who works in construction. He’s afraid of no one except his wife. He’s learned over the years to let her vent when she needs to.

He apparently didn’t let her vent enough one time, the key words being one time, and she went out to the chicken house and killed fifteen chickens. Her rationale was their freezer was running a little low and she needed to keep it well-stocked.

Mary Jane is a very attractive brunette with a very cute figure and has large, brown puppy dog eyes. After graduating from high school, she went to Atlanta for a weekend with some out-of-town cousins. She’s never been quite right since then, according to the other Lady Gatorettes.

Speculation is that she indulged in some cheap street pharmaceuticals which has caused flashbacks and twitching at odd times. She’s never explained anything. Those out-of-town cousins have never come to visit her again and she’s alluded on occasion that they may be residing in a long-term stay-cation facility for leading others down the primrose path of sin.

Mary Jane also dates