The Bachelorette: Glenville Small Town Mystery Thriller

By Cara Kent

A Bachelorette party is all fun and games, until someone winds up killed.
Now summers in Glennville will never be the same...

 

After leaving big city life behind, detective Heather Bishop felt certain that Glenville would be the perfect place to build her life.

When she meets a group of bachelorettes at a local diner and a girl from the group goes missing.
Heather is willing to do whatever it takes to uncover the truth behind Jenny Brooks' disappearance.
As the case unravels and Jenny is found brutally murdered.
Heather learns that even small towns can carry big secrets.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cara Kent
• Release date: Jul 23, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223736820

Book preview

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There was something surreal about being in a diner at night, at least in Heather’s opinion. Though, like going to your high school or local mall after dark, she figured that most people would agree that some places morphed into something weird at night. Especially places that specialize in breakfast food.

During the day at Dottie’s Diner, you’d find happy young people drinking milkshakes and sharing huge plates of fresh, steaming fries. But once the sun sank behind the distant mountain range, the natural glow was replaced by blinding fluorescence, which ushered in the walking dead. They flitted around the liminal space, throwing themselves against the light like moths and leaving dust on the garish interiors as they dipped their coiled tongues into sugary coffee. All the while, the envious blackness pressed hard against the windows, begging to be let inside. A darkness they’d have to embrace once they’d had their fill of whatever they sought.

Tonight, Heather sought sobriety and tranquility after a noisy night at Sherwood’s down the street. She found the latter in spades as most remained silent, their heads bowed over coffee steam as if the plastic booths were wooden church pews. There were, of course, some chatty zombies—po-faced divorcees and surly truckers seeking quiet chit-chat with the friendly waitress. Though Heather was not usually among them, the excess of bourbon had gotten the better of her.

This is really good, Heather slurred at the waitress, Missy, as she passed by on the other side of the glossy, fire truck-red counter.

Missy stopped and smiled. Well, I’m glad you think so. You know, we’re famous for our fried chicken sandwich.

I can see why, Heather replied, gesticulating with the sandwich to emphasize her point. Her firm grip and overenthusiasm squirted mayo out the sides and sent shards of crunchy lettuce slices skittering across the counter, and she scrambled to lick up and sweep up her mess. Oh, man, I’m sorry. I had some drinks at... Sherwood’s? Yeah, Sherwood’s.

Honey, don’t be sorry, Missy laughed. Half the folks that come in here are in worse condition than you, and at least you keep your eyes up here. Missy gestured to her pretty but crinkled face and winked a blue-shaded eyelid.

Low bar, Heather said dryly and took another bite.

That’s night shifts for you. Always a little weird after eight, Missy replied, adding credence to Heather’s theory about diners at night. Something about it reminded her of a movie. An anime. Something a friend had made her watch.

She clicked her fingers, forming the title on the tip of her tongue. "Spirited Away!" she exclaimed to the irritation of the man two seats down.

What’s that now? Missy asked, bemused.

It’s a movie. This place kind of reminds me of it. Spirits wandering in at night begging to be served.

Missy laughed. Sounds about right. Want some more coffee?

Please, Heather begged. I start my new job tomorrow.

Oh yeah, what do you do?

Detective. Homicide. Well, I was homicide. In Seattle. Now I guess I’m more of a... Heather trailed off, clicking her fingers again.

Jack of all trades?

Heather smiled. Yeah. Let’s go with that.

Wow. Well, look at you, Miss Thing, Missy cooed. A big shot city detective in my diner.

Your diner? Heather questioned. Why don’t you get someone else to work the night shift?

Missy shrugged. I like to stay busy. Plus, I feel bad making the young girls work on Saturday nights. Or Sunday mornings, if you catch my drift.

That’s nice of you.

Well, it’s not like I have any parties to attend.

You and me both, Heather chuckled. So, who’s Dottie?

Missy broke into a bright grin. My late mother. Taught me the secret recipe for that fried chicken in that sandwich you’re eating.

God bless Dottie, Heather enthused before taking another sumptuous bite.

She would have loved you, Missy remarked. Couldn’t get enough of true crime stuff. She paused thoughtfully. You know, I didn’t even think our little town was big enough to need a detective.

"And that is exactly the point."

Looking to put your feet up, huh? Can’t say I blame you. Seems like the type of job that’ll get you hankering after some peace of mind. Tell you what, you’ve picked the right place. Glenville will be good to you.

I hope so, Heather sighed.

As if the word peace was a jinx, a persistent, four-to-the-floor bassline began to hum in the linoleum beneath Heather’s feet, and she turned to see a bright pink limousine pull up in the parking lot. Missy groaned, and Heather span completely on her mustard-colored stool, pressed her back to the rounded counter edge, and watched with fascination as five women in mini-dresses, feather boas, and sashes clomped toward Dottie’s Diner.

Shit, Missy hissed, and Heather agreed.

The bachelorette party burst through the door in an expected manner—screaming, giggling, and talking over each other incoherently—before dropping into a nearby booth. That peace Heather so desperately craved was shattered, and she rubbed her forehead and considered taking her chances out in the night. Just as she was about to cram the last three bites into her mouth and head out, Missy topped up her coffee, begging her to stay with a pointed look. Heather obliged, thanking Missy and turning back around. It was for the