Murder and Sweet Tea

By Janet Lane Walters

Lars is Katherine's new husband. He loves her but doesn’t understand why she’s always trying to protect her near and dear. Even though she saved his life while visiting him in Santa Fe, he often questions her involvement in other people’ lives.

Into their lives arrives a new neighbor, Sabrina Gates. Sabrina bought the house next door. She has had a phenomenal success as a new author but moes from her past and present threaten her peace and ability to write. There is the blogger who posts snide and not so nice posts about other authors. Sabrina’s former agent wants a share of the huge amount of money Sabrina has received for a trilogy. And there is her ex-husband, a needy greedy coward who wants money.
Above all there is Robespierre who makes his presence known.

Editorial review
Katherine Miller tries to avoid dead bodies but despite her best efforts, it just never works out. Murder and Sweet Tea is a sweet treat for all cozy mysteries fans and a worthy addition to the Katherine Miller Mystery Series. ~ Writer Gail Roughton

• Language: English
• Publisher: BWL Publishing Inc.
• Release date: Nov 11, 2017
• ISBN: 9781773629681

Janet Lane Walters

Janet Lane Walters has been writing and published since the days of the typewriter. She has 30 plus novels and seven novellas plus four non-fiction books published. Janet lives in the scenic Hudson River valley with her husband, a psychiatrist who has no desire to cure her obsession with writing.She is the mother of four and the grandmother of five with two children expected to arrive soon from China. Janet writes in a number of genres - Romance from sweet to sensual and from contemporary to fantasy and paranormal. She has published cozy mysteries and medical suspense. She also has a number of YA fantasies published.

Book preview

Murder and Sweet Tea

Mrs. Miller Mysteries (Book 6)

By Janet Lane-Walters

Digital ISBN

EPUB 978-1-77362-968-1

Kindle 978-1-77362-969-8

Amazon Print 978-1-77362-970-4

Copyright 2017 by Janet Lane Walters

Cover Art 2017 by Michelle Lee

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

Dedication

To Gail, my editor who sees the bright side of my dark side. To Jude, great publisher. And to Robespierre who really was the king cat of our house for many years.

Chapter 1

The July sun shone in a cloudless sky. I waved to Maria and Sarah. See you tomorrow. We often met in the morning for coffee, tea and gossip. I paused on the sidewalk to study the Victorian house across the street. Until last August, the Painted Lady had been my home. I’d lived there during my first marriage and widowhood.

Did I regret the move? Not in the least. While I’d enjoyed my stay there, moving had been the right decision. After my husband’s death and my son’s graduation from high school, I had converted the house into two apartments. My second floor unit had suited me but sharing the space with my new husband would have been tight. His home across the village was too large for just two. Besides, I’d always dreamed of living closer to the Hudson River and had long admired the house now my home.

When Lars and I set our marriage plans we had decided to sell our houses. Mine had been bought by a young friend. I noticed the vans in the driveway and on the street. Richard and Jenna had decided to return the house to a single family home. A smile curved my lips. In May, the couple had married.

My thoughts drifted to my husband. In August, we would celebrate our first anniversary. This morning’s visit had been filled with planning for my kind of party, a barbecue. Lars would have made reservations at Cedar Inn for a re-do of last year’s second reception. The first, immediately after the ceremony, had taken place at the church. I had missed the second, an evening affair. So had Lars.

An out of state friend had missed the wedding. I had been worried when she hadn’t arrived or called. A phone call had informed me of the reason. Joyce’s micro-managing partner in their shop selling tea, spices and accompaniments had been murdered. My friend had become the prime suspect. She had needed my help and abruptly I had taken off. Lars had followed. Though he didn’t understand my need to protect family and friends, he accepted my quirks. I form friendships in an instant. He takes years of knowing someone. Our marriage is based on a lengthy association, first as two couples and then as two who had lost their mates.

I turned into River Edge Road. Robespierre ambled up the street toward me. When he reached my side, the Maine Coon cat butted my legs with his head. Was this a welcome or a bid for more food? At twenty-two pounds, he was huge and his fluffy black, brown and white coat added to his bulk.

As we passed the Dutch Colonial next-door to my new abode, I noticed a For Sale sign on the lawn, which led to immediate speculation. Who would buy the house? The older couple who owned the place had moved to a seniors complex last year. I’d always wondered why they hadn’t sold before. Perhaps they had hoped one of their children wanted to live there.

Moments later, I reached the long ranch situated on a rise above the river. We have a double lot. Our address and garage are on one street and the bedrooms on the other. I entered through the kitchen door.

The cat dashed inside and did a little dance in front of his bowl. Lars sat at the table cradling a steaming mug of coffee. I sprinkled a few bits of dry food in Robespierre’s dish and filled a glass with iced spearmint tea. I sat across from my husband.

Lars looked up from the newspaper. Did you and the coven solve the problems of the world?

I laughed at his naming of the coffee klatch. Just planned the anniversary bash.

Don’s leaving Megan with us this afternoon. He’s off to the city to finalize plans for the October show.

I don’t envy him. He’ll swelter.

His choice. He wants to use the painting you love for the show. He’s promised not to sell the picture.

Glad to hear that. I’d happily purchase the piece.

He gave it to you as a wedding gift so he can’t take it back. He also says some publisher is interested in him doing some book covers for them.

Sounds interesting. I’m glad he’s leaving Megan. I’ll enjoy spending time with grandchild number four.

He groaned. Officially, you only have one. Megan is a step-grandchild. Robby and Jenna adopted you. They’re friends.

Must you be so literal? I count Robby and Jenna as mine. I leaned back. The house next-door is for sale. It just went up. Wonder why it took so long for them to list.

Lars shook his head. I’ve no idea. Are you worried about the Dunns?

Why would I worry? I know where they are. I just hope we acquire good neighbors.

I hope they don’t provide bodies for you to find.

I touched his hand. I don’t find them. They find me. I’m really done with that phase of my life.

Is that a promise?

Did he really believe I delighted in discovering murder victims? The twinkle in his blue eyes dissolved my annoyance. If there are more, you can have the next one.

Thanks a lot. My dear, you collect corpses like a child at the beach gathers seashells.

Our conversation, if anyone could call this nonsense a conversation, was interrupted by a child’s shout. Grandpa, Grandma Kate, I come.

Megan bounded into the room. Her dark curls bounced. I hugged her and so did Lars. What a changed child from the day I arrived in Santa Fe.

Rose Prairie come, too. Daddy said when him stay at home, he finds trouble.

My grin widened. When he felt abandoned, Robespierre did the same. I remembered the many times he had trashed my bedroom after being banished when guests arrived.

Lars’ laughter boomed. What would you like to do today?

Help Grandma Kate bake cookies. Then I’ll play with you and two cats.

He turned to me. Looks like she’s yours first.

* * *

Three days later, the For Sale sign vanished from the yard of the house next-door. My curiosity spiked like the humidity before a storm. What kind of neighbors would we have? A family, newly-weds or people escaping the city? I wanted to know. The realtor where a friend worked had been the name on the sign. Tracey Stanton would know. I tapped her phone number.

When she answered, I waited until we finished the usual chit-chat about our families and the church. We finally exhausted those subjects. Who bought the house next-door to mine?

Kate, neither… I forgot you sold the Victorian. Why do you want to know?

Mainly curiosity. Tell me it’s not a family with a herd of children. I settled back in my recliner and stared through the picture window at the river.

No children. No husband. Why she wants a four bedroom with a finished attic is beyond me. Was the quickest sale I ever made. She lowered her voice. She’s an author who had a spectacular success. Her first two books hit the New York Times list and have stayed there. She’ll soon release a third novel.

What’s her name? Maybe I’ve read her books.

She writes suspense with a bit of romance. Don’t you prefer non-fiction biographies?

Usually, but a neighbor should be supported. Her name?

Sabrina Gates.

I’ll visit the library tomorrow.

Guess you don’t have an electronic reader.

Not yet. Thanks for the information. I’ll see you at church on Sunday. I hung up and went to tell Lars what I had learned about our new neighbor.

* * *

The next morning, Sarah and Maria came to the house so we could make the list of guests to be invited to the anniversary party. Sarah had designed the invitation and printed them on her computer. We sat at the kitchen table. Sunlight streamed through the windows brightening the pale yellow walls and the gleaming dark wood of the cabinets. Megan’s latest picture on the refrigerator glowed in bright colors.

With the list completed and the invitations addressed, we had completed the first step. I gathered the used mugs and out them in the dishwasher.

Your idea of a gift is generous, Maria said.

Lars and I decided since we have no need for material presents, a donation in our names to a charity makes sense.

I left the house with them. At the end of the block, I turned toward town. Robespierre ambled after us and followed Maria across the street. My cat has been enamored of Maria’s son since the day she and Paul returned from Spain with their adopted son. The fascination is mutual.

Ten minutes later, I arrived at the library. I paused on the steps of the stone building. As usual, a reluctance to enter kept me frozen. Foolishness. That thought propelled me up the steps and inside. I glanced into the reading room where several elderly men read newspapers. For an instant, my gaze focused on the window of the head librarian’s office set above the main floor. As memories arose, a shudder rolled along my spine.

Enough! The former occupant of that room remained in a mental hospital as she had since the day she’d tried to kill me. I doubted she would ever leave. Facing what she had done wasn’t part of Judith’s nature.

I walked past the front desk and downstairs to the shelves. The library has several levels below the street entrance since it’s built on a hill. In the stacks, I searched for Sabrina Gates and found a single copy. I carried the book upstairs to the circulation desk.

The young woman seated behind the long counter smiled. Good choice and you’re lucky you found a copy. We have four of each of her books. They fly off the shelves constantly. She looked up and studied me. Do you really want to read this? Her books are very graphic.

I arched an eyebrow. As in how the bodies become dead?

She nodded. There are some gruesome deaths and some hot sex.

Laughter rippled through me. As a nurse, I’d seen deaths that had been less than pleasant, not to mention my recent experiences. "I think I