A Zen For Murder (Mooseamuck Island Cozy Mystery Series Book 1) by Leighann Dobbs Page B
Authors: Leighann Dobbs
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around the properties that the police have secured.”
“That’s unfortunate. But we can still go out and take a look around outside … maybe even peek in the windows. One never knows what one might find. “Dom pushed himself up from his chair and looked at Claire expectantly. “You game?”
***
Claire had been out to the old hunting camp many times before in her youth, but today, it looked different. She eyed it ominously as they drive slowly up the dirt road where it sat shrouded in the darkness of the forest trees, enveloped in the stillness of death.
That’s silly , she thought as she hopped out of Dom’s Smart Car. It was just her imagination running wild, applying emotions to the camp knowing the owner was now dead. The camp was an inanimate object—no more menacing now than it had been before Zoila’s murder.
The rustic, log exterior blended perfectly with the deep-woods setting. Darkened windows glared at Claire as they approached the wide porch that ran along the front of the house.
Dom reached out and twisted the knob on the thick, oak door. “It’s locked.”
“Not surprised.” Claire cupped her hand over her eyes and peered through the window next to the door into the living room. Zoila had decorated it comfortably with a leather sofa facing the oversized stone fireplace. Claire wondered if the granny-square afghan draped over the back of the sofa was one of Alice’s creations. An oval, braided rug lay in the center of the tidy room. Claire felt a tug of sadness as she looked, in realizing that when Zoila left the cabin on Wednesday morning, she never realized it would be for the last time.
“Do you see anything of interest?” Dom moved to the window at the end of the porch, cupping his own hands over his eyes to look in.
“Not really.” Claire noticed a few stones had come loose from the side of the chimney and were lying on the hearth. “The chimney looks like it needs some repair, but didn’t Shane say that was part of what she was having redone?”
“Yep.” Dom was already off the porch and circling the house. From the side, Claire could see the various add-ons that had been built over the years. The different siding and architectural styles made them obvious. They peered into windows as they went around, but nothing seemed amiss.
Behind the camp was an old toolshed. Dom lifted the latch and the door squealed open.
“At least we can get in here,” Claire said as she surveyed the small shed full of gardening equipment, old tires, a snowblower and even a baby carriage that looked like it was from the early 1900s.
“I guess the Barretts left some of their stuff here after they sold the place.” Dom took down a rake that had been hanging on the side of the wall and looked it over, reminding Claire that the murder weapon—which they presumed was the rake from the zen garden—was still missing.
Dom smiled ruefully as he noticed her attention to the rake. “Wrong kind.”
“Just as well. It would be very strange for the murder weapon to show up here in Zoila’s tool shed when she’d been murdered in the zen garden.”
“True, but maybe our killer is very clever. It’s the last place anyone would look.”
Claire nodded, her attention drifting to a stack of old, framed pictures leaning against the side of the shed. “Looks like they even left old pictures.”
Dom came to stand beside her, pointing to the smudged dust in the middle of the tops of the frames. “It looks like someone has handled these recently.”
“Maybe Zoila moved them from the house for the renovations,” Claire suggested.
“Kenneth said Zoila had called him over to pick up some family pictures. I wonder why he didn’t take them.”
Claire held up a framed photograph that looked to be about seventy years old. “I know why. Kenneth didn’t get along with his father.”
Dom’s brow creased and he pointed to a handsome young man in the photo. “Is this his father?”
Claire
“That’s unfortunate. But we can still go out and take a look around outside … maybe even peek in the windows. One never knows what one might find. “Dom pushed himself up from his chair and looked at Claire expectantly. “You game?”
***
Claire had been out to the old hunting camp many times before in her youth, but today, it looked different. She eyed it ominously as they drive slowly up the dirt road where it sat shrouded in the darkness of the forest trees, enveloped in the stillness of death.
That’s silly , she thought as she hopped out of Dom’s Smart Car. It was just her imagination running wild, applying emotions to the camp knowing the owner was now dead. The camp was an inanimate object—no more menacing now than it had been before Zoila’s murder.
The rustic, log exterior blended perfectly with the deep-woods setting. Darkened windows glared at Claire as they approached the wide porch that ran along the front of the house.
Dom reached out and twisted the knob on the thick, oak door. “It’s locked.”
“Not surprised.” Claire cupped her hand over her eyes and peered through the window next to the door into the living room. Zoila had decorated it comfortably with a leather sofa facing the oversized stone fireplace. Claire wondered if the granny-square afghan draped over the back of the sofa was one of Alice’s creations. An oval, braided rug lay in the center of the tidy room. Claire felt a tug of sadness as she looked, in realizing that when Zoila left the cabin on Wednesday morning, she never realized it would be for the last time.
“Do you see anything of interest?” Dom moved to the window at the end of the porch, cupping his own hands over his eyes to look in.
“Not really.” Claire noticed a few stones had come loose from the side of the chimney and were lying on the hearth. “The chimney looks like it needs some repair, but didn’t Shane say that was part of what she was having redone?”
“Yep.” Dom was already off the porch and circling the house. From the side, Claire could see the various add-ons that had been built over the years. The different siding and architectural styles made them obvious. They peered into windows as they went around, but nothing seemed amiss.
Behind the camp was an old toolshed. Dom lifted the latch and the door squealed open.
“At least we can get in here,” Claire said as she surveyed the small shed full of gardening equipment, old tires, a snowblower and even a baby carriage that looked like it was from the early 1900s.
“I guess the Barretts left some of their stuff here after they sold the place.” Dom took down a rake that had been hanging on the side of the wall and looked it over, reminding Claire that the murder weapon—which they presumed was the rake from the zen garden—was still missing.
Dom smiled ruefully as he noticed her attention to the rake. “Wrong kind.”
“Just as well. It would be very strange for the murder weapon to show up here in Zoila’s tool shed when she’d been murdered in the zen garden.”
“True, but maybe our killer is very clever. It’s the last place anyone would look.”
Claire nodded, her attention drifting to a stack of old, framed pictures leaning against the side of the shed. “Looks like they even left old pictures.”
Dom came to stand beside her, pointing to the smudged dust in the middle of the tops of the frames. “It looks like someone has handled these recently.”
“Maybe Zoila moved them from the house for the renovations,” Claire suggested.
“Kenneth said Zoila had called him over to pick up some family pictures. I wonder why he didn’t take them.”
Claire held up a framed photograph that looked to be about seventy years old. “I know why. Kenneth didn’t get along with his father.”
Dom’s brow creased and he pointed to a handsome young man in the photo. “Is this his father?”
Claire
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