Summer Reading is Killing Me (Phee Jefferson Book 2)

Summer Reading

Is Killing Me

AMY E. LILLY

The
characters in this book are fictitious or are referred to in a fictional
context. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

All
rights reserved.  In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the
scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without
the permission of the publisher constitutes unlawful piracy and theft of the
author’s intellectual property If you would like to use material from the book
(other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by
contacting the publisher.

Library
of Congress Control Number: 
 
2015906379

1
^st
Edition

©2015 Amy Lilly

Bella Lilly Press

Spanishburg
, WV

Cover Art by Ashley
Townsend.

ISBN-13: 978-0-692-43426-0

DEDICATION

For Dennis.

CHAPTER ONE

I love summer and how the air ripples as waves of heat
rise from the asphalt. The warm summer breezes sway the large trees surrounding
the lake. I love the buzz of the bees as they zip from flower to flower. One of
the best things about summer is cruising down the road in my 1968 VW bus, Velma
with the windows down, the wind tangling my strawberry curls and my favorite
music playing on the radio. My summer love died when I discovered a dead body
in Longfellow Park. Too bad I left my Super Librarian costume hanging in the
closet that day.

Just after dawn, I was unloading tables for the
Miller’s Cove Founder’s Day Celebration. The town library holds an annual book
sale during the festivities to raise money for the children’s party at the end
of summer reading. I planned to meet Wade, my library clerk and general
dogsbody
, at eight to unpack the books. Unable to sleep, I
decided to set up tables and hang our banner by myself before picking up Wade.
Clint was at the state police headquarters in Burlington for the next few days
for training, and I was keeping his Jack Russell Terrier, Watson. I was busy
hauling things to our designated spot when I heard frantic barking. I spotted
Watson growling at something in the grass under the large oak tree. 

“Watson! Come here, boy!” I whistled. He looked up
but kept barking. With a sigh, I jogged over to shush him before he woke up the
whole neighborhood. As I came nearer, I stopped. A young woman was asleep and
oblivious to the little dog nipping at her feet. I bent to wake her and saw a
splash of rust red across her shirt and a silver-handled paintbrush buried in
her chest. Scattered on the ground next to her was a canvas, an easel and
some tubes of paint with bright colors oozing out the open ends.

“Oh crud!” I said aloud. Watson lunged forward
with a snarl and tugged at the bottom of the woman’s jeans. “No, Watson! Come
here!” I picked him up and carried his wriggling body to Velma. I pulled my
cell phone out of my bag and called the sheriff.

“Miller’s Cove Sheriff’s Department. What’s your
emergency?” A nasal voice answered. It was Tina, the gum-smacking,
fingernail-polishing receptionist who aspired to be a cop one day as long as
the uniform didn’t make her thighs appear fat. 

“Tina, it’s Ophelia Jefferson. I’m over at
Longfellow Park and I found a girl dead. Someone murdered her.”

“What? A dead body? Murdered? Are you sure?” 

“Yes, I’m sure!” I snapped. “Can you send a deputy
right away?” I shouldn’t be surprised Tina doubted me. There hadn’t been a
murder in Miller’s Cove in over one hundred years. It all changed when my
friend Grant’s mom, Shari Davis, lost her grip on reality and murdered
three people last year. If Clint hadn’t charged in and rescued me, I would have
been next. A scar above my left eyebrow served as a reminder of my ordeal. It
gave me a slightly impish quality with a hint of danger. A James Bond meets
Jane Austen flair.

“Mark’s on duty this morning. I guarantee
he’s over at Nellie Jo’s having a cup of coffee and a doughnut. I’ll call and
send him right over,” Tina said.

“I’m not going anywhere,” I said and disconnected.
I heaved a sigh and loaded the tables back into Velma. My gut feeling was the
Founder’s Day Celebration would be canceled.

CHAPTER TWO

Deputy Mark Thompson pulled up in his cruiser ten
minutes later. I’d known him my whole life. He retired from our small sheriff’s
department a few years ago but discovered retirement bored him silly. His wife,
Sally, didn’t want him underfoot driving her crazy, so he went back to work
part-time which made everyone happy. A sleepy town most the year, the crime
spiked when people rented cabins by the lake for the summer. Most calls
involved overturned and damaged trash cans from the local wildlife with an
occasional domestic dispute thrown into the mix. 

“Morning,
Phee
.
Guess you found yourself a body. Tina says you think it’s a crime scene.”
Mark took a sip from the Nellie Jo’s Joe-to-Go cup in his hand. I would kill
for a cup of coffee right now. Some people ate comfort food. I
drank comfort caffeine.

“She’s underneath that large oak tree.” I pointed.
“Mark, somebody stabbed her in the chest with a paintbrush. It’s awful.” I
shuddered in spite of the morning’s warmth. I led Mark over to the body.

“Did you touch anything?” Mark asked. He squatted
next to the girl. His eyes combed the ground looking for evidence.

“No, I didn’t.” I shook my head. “Watson found her
and tugged on her pants leg. I got close enough to grab him, but I was
careful.” 

“You recognize her?” Mark stood up and walked
around the body, his brown eyes cataloging the canvas and paint on the ground.

I examined her face. If it weren’t for the ghastly
gray pallor of death, she would have been beautiful. It was a face someone
would remember. “No, I’ve never seen her. There’s a women’s art retreat at the
lake this year. She might be one of the artists.”

“I need to cordon off the area and call Sheriff
Dawes. He won’t be happy. I wouldn’t want to be in his boots when he tells
Mayor James to cancel today’s event,” Mark said. “Do me a favor,
Phee
. Stay by the body while I go back to the cruiser to
get crime scene tape and my kit. This area should be secured before folks show
up for Founder’s Day and trample any evidence.” 

“I’ll guard it with my life,” I promised. Mark
loped across the grass to his vehicle. Who stabbed somebody with a paintbrush?
An angry art critic? I inspected the body and noticed one finger covered with
blue paint. I walked around and looked closer at the canvas lying on the damp
grass. The painting was an unfinished landscape with a large slash of blue the
same shade as the paint on her finger. I moved closer. Was that a letter? I
couldn’t tell because of the smearing of the paint, but it resembled a cross.
Was this a message from the victim? I pulled my phone out of my pants and snapped
a few photos of the painting before Mark returned.

CHAPTER THREE

Sheriff Dawes arrived and took charge of the
situation. The mayor pulled up a few minutes later. Mayor James declared the
celebration cancelled until further notice. I left after Mark took my statement
and headed to my parent’s to drop Watson off for his play date with their dog,
Hamlet. I told them about finding the body and reassured them repeatedly that I
would be careful. I promised to see them the next morning for breakfast and to
retrieve Watson.

Word spread like wildfire through town that the
mayor canceled the Founder’s Day Celebration due to the discovery of a dead
body in the park. As I drove back into town and passed the park, I slowed to a
halt due to the first traffic jam ever seen in Miller’s Cove. People gawked as
EMTs removed the body to transport it by ambulance to the coroner’s office in
Burlington. By the time I made it to Nellie Jo’s for a cup of coffee, the place
buzzed with speculation on the victim’s identity and who murdered her.

“I overheard it was some la
dee
da gal from the cabins on the lake,” Nellie Jo gossiped as I ordered my coffee
and scone. Nellie’s deep Southern drawl hadn’t faded despite all her
years living in Miller’s Cove. “Why, I bet you anything it was some kind of
love triangle. Rich folks always cheat on each other. They cheat on their
taxes, too.”  

“I didn’t recognize her as anyone from around
here,” I confided. I leaned across the counter and lowered my voice, “She was
young and pretty with long, blonde hair.”

“You saw her?” Nellie’s eyes widened. She handed
me my coffee and blueberry scone. 

“I was setting up tables for our book sale when I
found her,” I told Nellie in a conspiratorial whisper. “She was under the giant
oak tree with all the initials carved in it.”  

“Golly day! I’m just glad you didn’t run into the
killer down there! You’ve been through enough after last year with that Davis
woman. Speaking of which…” Nellie pointed her chin. I turned and saw Grant
Davis walk in the door. I made a point of avoiding him since his mom tried to
kill me. He had stopped by the hospital after the attack, but my family refused
to let him in to see me. Since then, we stayed away from each other. I couldn’t
dodge him here in the small café though.

“I can tell him he’s not welcome,” Nellie offered.
She stepped out from behind the counter to intercept Grant. 

I felt torn between letting Nellie protect me and
confronting the situation with Grant. “No, it’s okay. I can handle it.” I
sighed and carried my cup and plate over to a small table by the window. Grant
had lost both his parents - one to death and one to insanity. He had his own
demons to contend with, and I felt a momentary twinge of sympathy for him.

“
Phee
, can I talk to
you?” Grant stood in front of me. His handsome face was gaunt and his clothes
hung on his already slim frame. His mother’s crimes and subsequent committal to
a mental institution had taken its toll on him. It wasn’t his fault his mother
killed three people, but the sight of him brought the horror of the day with
Shari rushing back. I felt sick to my stomach and shoved the scone across
the table. 

“
Ummm
… I guess.” I
refused to meet his eyes. I stared at my cup as I struggled to control my
emotions. My hands shook as I lifted my coffee to take a sip. The coffee shop
had buzzed with gossip when I arrived, but now it was strangely quiet. Nellie
Jo wiped the clean table next to me and tried to appear uninterested.

“
Phee
, I’m sorry. I miss
your friendship. Please tell me how to fix things between us,” Grant pleaded.
He reached out to touch my shoulder, but I flinched. He dropped his hand and
sighed. 

“Grant, we’re friends, but right now I can’t
separate you from your mom. Why can’t you comprehend that? I can’t see you
without reliving that horrible day. I almost died!” I stared blindly ahead
blinking away tears. 

“I understand. I wish I could turn back the clock.
I spotted you in here and had the crazy idea to ask you to watch the early
movie tonight at the theater. We can sit next to each other, share Jujubes and
slushies
, and try to remember what it feels like to be best
friends again,” Grant said. “We don’t have to talk and you can’t see my
face in the dark. It was stupid. I’m sorry I bothered you.” He turned to leave.

I sorted through my emotions. Grant was the same
guy he’d always been. He was still the guy who picked me up in his old Dodge
Dart and wasted our teenage afternoons cruising with the windows down and the
music blaring. “Okay. I’ll go.”

Grant stopped and turned around to make sure he
hadn’t misunderstood. “Pick you up at six? Jujubes and
slushies
are on me.” A hint of the old Grant emerged.

“Sounds good. See you then,” I said. Grant gave me
a smile and left.

As soon as the door closed behind him, Nellie
rushed up to my table and laid a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “Are you okay,
Phee
? You look mighty piqued. You should’ve let me
kick him out of here.” 

“I’m fine, Nellie. It’s just hard seeing him. Now
we’ve got another murder in Miller’s Cove, and once again, I’m in the thick of
it. Juliet says bad luck comes in threes, so I’ve certainly met my quota,” I
said. I lifted my cup to my lips and took a sip. “If it weren’t for your good
coffee and scones, I’d be a nervous wreck.” I patted Nellie’s hand to reassure
her that I was okay. 

“You mark my words. This latest murder was about
love and money. When a pretty, rich girl gets murdered, a man is probably
involved and money is at the heart of it,” Nellie predicted.