MASS MURDER (68 page)

Rocky stole a quick glance at Giorgio who only lifted his eyebrows
.
“Can they give me a couple of weeks?  I have to finish something first.”

“Don’t see why not
.
I’ll tell the Captain.”

Angie and Elvira Applebaum came in from the backyard just as the phone rang
.
Giorgio picked up the
extension next to the staircase.

“Hey, Wally,” he greeted a friend from the theater
.
“Yes, thanks, we’re doing fine
.
Yes, the investigation is over
.
What
’s
that
? 
Yes, I should have some time.
When do rehearsals start?  Okay, get me a script and let me take a look
.
Thanks again.”  He turned to his waiting audience with a broad grin.

“I’ve seen that look before,” Rocky quipped.

“So have I,” Angie agreed
.
“What is it this time? 
A musical?
”  Her brown eyes da
nced
.

“No,” he said, filling his chest like a balloon
.
“Arsenic and Old Lace
.
They wan
t me to play Teddy Roosevelt.”

E
veryone groaned
in unison
,
but
Giorgio
ignored them and
grabbed the banister with a flourish, swung himself around to the lower landing and ran full speed up the
stairs yelling, “Chaaaarge!!!”

When the bedroom door slammed shut,
Prince Albert
’s
visor shut with a bang
giving
Grosvner
a reason to throw
back his head to indulge in a good howl
.

By

Lynn Bohart

The hawk rested quietly on the branch of an old oak, gazing imperiously down on the gravesite below. Fresh graves produced tender morsels of food, and the hawk, with its keen eyesight and superior reflexes, would wait patiently until dinner poked its head above ground.

But the hawk’s vigil was interrupted as a lone, dark car pulled up to the cemetery entrance. The predator’s eyes rotated in their sockets like small, opaque marbles as they fixed a steady gaze in the direction of the intruder. The car wound its way up the hill, past the mausoleum, past the bank of rose bushes, and past the small sign that led to the new burial site. It crested the hill and turned smoothly onto the service road that ran along the top of the cemetery, its tires rolling and popping across the gravel. Finally, the car stopped behind a bank of trees and large bushes. The driver’s side door opened and a dark figure emerged and quickly crossed the road to slip into the bushes that overlooked the grave. There the figure waited, peering through thick foliage at the gravesite below.

In the same way a sentinel waits for the enemy, the hawk renewed its vigil, focusing its gaze again on the newly turned earth surrounding the gravesite. Perhaps a worm would wiggle its way through the rich soil. But the bird was distracted a second time when another car pulled onto the cemetery grounds.
The hawk shifted its weight and turned its head in short, sharp movements as it watched the second car climb the hill and turn at the makeshift sign pointing to the grave. The second car parked along the road just below the gravesite, and it was several seconds before the door opened and a woman emerged, dressed in a long wool coat. She glanced around her before crossing the road, pausing at the stairs that would lead her to the gravesite. She stared at the walled embankment as if it was a barrier she couldn’t overcome. Finally, with a deep sigh, she began to climb.

When she reached the top, she crossed to area set up for the funeral and weaved her way through the empty chairs to the open grave. For a long moment, she gazed into the deep hole, her face set in a stone mask. With the sleeve of her coat, she wiped away a tear before retreating to the protection of the oak. She leaned against the rough bark of the tree, arms crossed over her chest. A sob escaped her lips, and she raised a hand to calm herself, all the while unaware she was being watched from the hilltop above.

Thank you
so very much for reading
Mass Murder
. If you enjoyed this book, I encourage you to go back to Amazon.com and leave an honest review. This will help position the book so that more people might also enjoy it. Thank you!

About the Author

Ms. Bohart
holds a master’s degree in theater, has published in Woman’s World, and has a story in
Dead on Demand
, and anthology of ghost stories that remained on the Library Journals best seller list for six months. As a thirty-year nonprofit professional, she has spent a lifetime writing brochures, newsletters, business letters, website copy, and more. Recently, she did a short stint writing for Patch.com. and
she teaches
“Writing the Mystery Short Story”.
Mass Murder is her first novel and  has been endorsed by G
rub Street Reads
as an “excellent read.” She also self-published a book of creepy short stories and mysteries called,
Your
Worst Nightmare
. Her second paranormal mystery novel,
Grave Doubts
, should be out in late 2012.

Ms. Bohart also writes a blog on the various aspects of writing and the paranormal on her website at:
www.bohartink.com
. She lives in the Northwest with her daughter, two miniature Dachshunds, and a cat.

Follow Ms. Bohart

Website:
             
www.bohartink.com

Twitter:
             
             
@lbohart

Facebook:
             
http://www.facebook.com/bohartink