Along Came A Needle: A Mercy Mares Cozy Mystery by Ava Mallory Page A
Authors: Ava Mallory
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you believe that bologna too.
I smiled. “No, not ghosts. I mean, did you hear anyone walking around outside your room last night?”
“You mean, besides you?” She teased. “No, I can't say that I heard anything. Did something happen last night?”
I shook my head. There was no reason to drag her into my conspiracy theories. I grabbed the ingredients for a vegetable quiche as I changed the subject to something much more pleasant.
“What's the book you're writing?” I asked.
She put her head down, grinning. “Oh, just something I've been toying around with for years. It's just for my own pleasure. Maybe, I'll leave it for my grandchildren to read someday.”
“You're not going to publish it?” I asked.
“No, I'm not much for rejection. This is just a personal project that I've been brewing for quite some time. I always knew that I'd write it here.” She said.
I was surprised to hear that she'd intended to write her book here in The Felon House. What would possess a sweet, old woman like her to actively seek out a place like this? I mean, I could see the initial draw, but I'd never in a million years believe that anyone, besides my two cohorts, would want to stay here, given its history.
“Why do you seem so surprised,” Jessica asked.
“Oh, you saw that. Sorry. I was just wondering why you'd choose this place to be where you'd write your book. Have you been here before?” I asked.
“You could say that,” she answered, turning to put the muffins in the oven.
“Good morning, girls,” Ruby stood in the doorway. “You've been up all night?”
Jessica looked at each other and laughed, answering together, “You could say that?”
“Say what?” Paul and Jackson walked up behind Ruby.
“Does everyone wake up early around here?” I muttered under my breath.
Ruby explained, “Chip is upstairs tearing rooms apart looking for something. Did he get robbed?”
I wiped my hands on a dish towel and walked out of the kitchen to see what Chip was up to. He seemed awfully desperate for a man who was looking for a medical case. What was in there? Gold?
When I got to the top of the stairs, Chip was standing behind the desk in Flynn's office. He took one look at me and walked around the desk and slammed the door shut.
Rude much?
“Do you need help, Chip?” I called out.
He didn't answer, but I could hear him rustling around in the office.
I knocked on the door. “Hello? Are you okay in there? Do you need help?”
He pulled the door open quickly, beads of sweat dripping down his face. “What?”
The office had been torn apart. Papers were strewn all over the floor. Files had been scattered. Photos were removed from the wall.
“What is going on? Are you okay? What was in the medical box?” I asked, getting the sense that something very important was missing and Chip wasn't going to be able to get through his day without it.
He grabbed my arm and pulled me further into the room. My breath caught.
“What is this? What are you doing?” I asked.
He looked at me with a mixture of rage and fear in his eyes. “Someone murdered Flynn and I think they're coming after me next. Can you help me?”
I jerked my arm from his tight grip. “What are you talking about? Who is after you? Do you know who killed Flynn?”
He looked at me wide-eyed and took a deep breath. “I can't tell you that yet. I don't know for sure, but I have to find that box. Are you positive that you never saw it? I swear it was there. It's always been there. Has anyone been in that kitchen or anywhere in the house that seemed unusual or like they didn't belong here?”
“Yep. Me.” I answered quickly. I never wanted to go home so badly in all my life. This place was a nut house and I was beginning to think that I was the chief nut.
His fear was palpable. He practically begged me to be serious with
I smiled. “No, not ghosts. I mean, did you hear anyone walking around outside your room last night?”
“You mean, besides you?” She teased. “No, I can't say that I heard anything. Did something happen last night?”
I shook my head. There was no reason to drag her into my conspiracy theories. I grabbed the ingredients for a vegetable quiche as I changed the subject to something much more pleasant.
“What's the book you're writing?” I asked.
She put her head down, grinning. “Oh, just something I've been toying around with for years. It's just for my own pleasure. Maybe, I'll leave it for my grandchildren to read someday.”
“You're not going to publish it?” I asked.
“No, I'm not much for rejection. This is just a personal project that I've been brewing for quite some time. I always knew that I'd write it here.” She said.
I was surprised to hear that she'd intended to write her book here in The Felon House. What would possess a sweet, old woman like her to actively seek out a place like this? I mean, I could see the initial draw, but I'd never in a million years believe that anyone, besides my two cohorts, would want to stay here, given its history.
“Why do you seem so surprised,” Jessica asked.
“Oh, you saw that. Sorry. I was just wondering why you'd choose this place to be where you'd write your book. Have you been here before?” I asked.
“You could say that,” she answered, turning to put the muffins in the oven.
“Good morning, girls,” Ruby stood in the doorway. “You've been up all night?”
Jessica looked at each other and laughed, answering together, “You could say that?”
“Say what?” Paul and Jackson walked up behind Ruby.
“Does everyone wake up early around here?” I muttered under my breath.
Ruby explained, “Chip is upstairs tearing rooms apart looking for something. Did he get robbed?”
I wiped my hands on a dish towel and walked out of the kitchen to see what Chip was up to. He seemed awfully desperate for a man who was looking for a medical case. What was in there? Gold?
When I got to the top of the stairs, Chip was standing behind the desk in Flynn's office. He took one look at me and walked around the desk and slammed the door shut.
Rude much?
“Do you need help, Chip?” I called out.
He didn't answer, but I could hear him rustling around in the office.
I knocked on the door. “Hello? Are you okay in there? Do you need help?”
He pulled the door open quickly, beads of sweat dripping down his face. “What?”
The office had been torn apart. Papers were strewn all over the floor. Files had been scattered. Photos were removed from the wall.
“What is going on? Are you okay? What was in the medical box?” I asked, getting the sense that something very important was missing and Chip wasn't going to be able to get through his day without it.
He grabbed my arm and pulled me further into the room. My breath caught.
“What is this? What are you doing?” I asked.
He looked at me with a mixture of rage and fear in his eyes. “Someone murdered Flynn and I think they're coming after me next. Can you help me?”
I jerked my arm from his tight grip. “What are you talking about? Who is after you? Do you know who killed Flynn?”
He looked at me wide-eyed and took a deep breath. “I can't tell you that yet. I don't know for sure, but I have to find that box. Are you positive that you never saw it? I swear it was there. It's always been there. Has anyone been in that kitchen or anywhere in the house that seemed unusual or like they didn't belong here?”
“Yep. Me.” I answered quickly. I never wanted to go home so badly in all my life. This place was a nut house and I was beginning to think that I was the chief nut.
His fear was palpable. He practically begged me to be serious with
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