Victoria writes the Blue Ridge Library Mystery series, the Booklover’s B&B series, and the upcoming Hunter and Clewe traditional mystery series for Crooked Lane Books. She has also published fantasy with Snowy Wings Publishing.
A member of Mystery Writers of America and Sisters in Crime, Victoria is represented by Frances Black at Literary Counsel. She lives near Winston-Salem, NC with her husband, son, and some very spoiled cats.
Richard
paused on the path that led into the trees surrounding Kurt’s manicured
backyard. “To be honest, I really just wanted a moment alone with you.”
“To
do what, exactly?”
“Kiss
you properly, for one thing,” he said, pulling me behind the screen formed by a
tall lilac bush before proceeding to do so.
Some
time passed before I was aware of anything besides the two of us, but at one
point, as Richard lifted his lips from mine, I caught a glimpse of something
moving through the trees to my right. There was a flash of purple amid the
green undergrowth. I stepped back, pulling free of Richard’s arms. “Someone’s
out there, walking through the woods.”
“Probably
a guest getting some air.” Richard turned to follow my gaze. “Wait, that’s
Adele. What the heck is she doing, tramping through the woods?” He frowned.
“She’s had some balance problems lately, and when I talked to her earlier, I
noticed she was wearing pretty flimsy heels. She has no business hiking across
uneven ground.”
“That
is odd. Kurt doesn’t clear his woods either. He says he likes to allow them to
remain natural for the benefit of the wildlife. So trying to navigate that area
in heels has to be rough.”
“Good
way to break a leg.” Richard rubbed his jaw with his clenched fist.
“Speaking
of Kurt, there he is, popping out of the woods on the other side of the yard.”
I glanced up at Richard. “What’s going on here? Some strange game?”
“A
secret assignation?” Richard widened his gray eyes. “Kurt and Adele have known
each other for a long time . . .”
“True,
but they’re old enough not to have to sneak into the woods for a rendezvous.
Anyway, I’ve never gotten the impression that they were that close, and Adele
could just as easily stay after the party if they wanted private time alone.
Who would know, or care?”
“No
one, I suppose.” Richard’s gaze followed Adele as she crossed the yard and
entered the house through the back door.
Kurt,
who’d paused at the edge of the yard until Adele went inside, waited a few
additional minutes before following her. As he opened the back door, I was
surprised to see my brother stroll around from the other side of the house. That’s
right, he went out for a walk for some reason, I thought, reaching for
Richard’s hand.
“This
is starting to remind me of one of those French farces— people coming and going
from all directions.” Richard’s fingers curled around mine.
Looking
over the area as if to make sure no one was watching, Scott also used the back
door to enter the house.
“It
is peculiar,” I said, “but I’m sure there’s some reasonable explanation.”
A
loud crash silenced Richard’s response.
“Sounds
like it came from that direction,” he said, dropping my hand to sprint down the
path.
I
followed, running to match his longer strides. The path curved off to the
right, ending at a wooden garden shed.
Richard
paused, grabbing the edge of the half-open door. “Hold on,” he said as I
reached him. “We should be careful. It could be some sort of wild animal, and
if we back it into a corner, it could turn violent.”
“But
it also could be hurt,” I said, pulling the door wider to peer inside the shed.
“Can’t see much.”
There’s
something on the floor.” Richard pointed toward a large, shadowy object
sprawled across the center of the small room.
I
backed away. “Not a bear, I hope.”
“It’s
not moving. Maybe just some tarps that tipped off that top shelf.” Richard
grabbed a rake that was propped next to the door.
As
he crept closer to the shadowy object, holding the rake like a weapon, I
stepped in behind him and moved to the side to allow light to spill in through
the door.
It
was a tarp—a cracked blue tarp dusted with mold. But it was draped over
something else. Richard tentatively reached out and flipped up an edge of the
thick plastic covering.
I
gasped as an expensive leather shoe was revealed.
We
both rushed forward to fling back the rest of the tarp. Then stood in silence,
holding hands, as we stared down at the body of Oscar Selvaggio.
*
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