Murder in the Village: A Lady Margaret Turnbull Cozy Mystery Book (International Cozy Mysteries 2) by C T Mitchell Page B
Authors: C T Mitchell
Tags: Murder in the Village
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time, she’d gathered that it was a young
woman’s finger. It was a ring finger, probably belonging to a woman in her
twenties. Tom was no spring chicken, and his aunt must surely be in her
sixties, so she imagined that it belonged to a young engaged woman, since the
finger was still adorned with an engagement ring.
Getting dressed quickly in something she could be seen
around town in and be proud, Maggie hopped into her car. The darling car, a
1968 Mercedes 450 SLC, red with white leather, perfectly engulfed everything
that was Lady Margaret Turnbull in a nutshell. It was classy, fun, sporty, and
full of life at any age. And it turned heads, which she loved.
She climbed into it and checked her hair in the rear view
mirror. She couldn’t get the “ring finger in the box” out of her head, and she
wanted answers. Those answers sure wouldn’t be coming from Detective Sullivan,
as soon as she’d opened the box, the man had clammed up like a school boy on
his first date. This left the ring, itself, as being the only other lead in
the case.
She’d seen many rings like this one advertised on
television; it was no ordinary engagement ring. An expensive jeweler in
Lismore had been advertising rings exactly like these for months. They were
very unique, and Maggie admitted to herself that she’d envied them on more than
one occasion.
With wedding season approaching, the jeweler had been
offering the rings at a reduced price. Nearing the shopping center where
Lismore Family Jewels was located, Maggie pulled into the car park located
underground. She usually hated driving around in town, mostly because people
were in general impatient arses, but this morning the drive had not been so
bad.
Trotting up to the entrance of the shopping center, Lady
Margaret was pleased to see that the early morning crowd was much thinner than
normal today. The shops were opening one by one, and she took a seat on a
bench outside the jewelry shop. It was one of the last ones to open, which
Maggie took note of. She was careful not to look as though she was staring,
and she carefully eyed the man inside the shop who was directing the other
sales clerks to their stations. It was time to have a chat with the man.
Meanwhile, as Lady Maggie rose to confront the jewelry store
owner, Inspector Tom Sullivan was leaned over his desk at the police station
with his head cradled in his hand.
“Auntie, auntie….listen…” he said quietly.
“No, you listen, dear. I sent you no such package. I’m
certainly not dead, and I have all of my fingers! So whatever you found in a
jar inside a box has nothing to do with me. And quite frankly, you’re making
me nervous. You sound quite shaken up. You should get some sleep…or make a
cup of tea.”
As he was trying to hang up the phone, the Detective Inspector’s
Sergeant bursts through the door and tries to interrupt his conversation. The
young officer had no tact when it came to when and where he was invited to
speak, and was always in a hurry. Tom liked the guy, but Sergeant Daniels
always seemed to be running late, and everyone else’s time suffered for it. He
hung up quickly and turned to Sergeant Gerard Daniels with a sigh.
“Sir,” the young man was breathing heavily, as though he’d
jogged down the hall….and everywhere else he’d been that morning.
“Sir, I’ve only found three women reported missing in the
last few weeks. These are the only three that fit the description from the
forensics lab.” Gerard handed him three pieces of paper fresh off the
printer. The finger apparently belonged to a Caucasian woman in her early
twenties.
“She’s had a manicure pretty recently,” Tom said aloud.
“Now we just need a body to go with this finger.”
Chapter 3
Back at the shopping center, the little bell on the door dinged
as Maggie walked in. The man she assumed was the manager looked surprised to
see her for some reason, and
woman’s finger. It was a ring finger, probably belonging to a woman in her
twenties. Tom was no spring chicken, and his aunt must surely be in her
sixties, so she imagined that it belonged to a young engaged woman, since the
finger was still adorned with an engagement ring.
Getting dressed quickly in something she could be seen
around town in and be proud, Maggie hopped into her car. The darling car, a
1968 Mercedes 450 SLC, red with white leather, perfectly engulfed everything
that was Lady Margaret Turnbull in a nutshell. It was classy, fun, sporty, and
full of life at any age. And it turned heads, which she loved.
She climbed into it and checked her hair in the rear view
mirror. She couldn’t get the “ring finger in the box” out of her head, and she
wanted answers. Those answers sure wouldn’t be coming from Detective Sullivan,
as soon as she’d opened the box, the man had clammed up like a school boy on
his first date. This left the ring, itself, as being the only other lead in
the case.
She’d seen many rings like this one advertised on
television; it was no ordinary engagement ring. An expensive jeweler in
Lismore had been advertising rings exactly like these for months. They were
very unique, and Maggie admitted to herself that she’d envied them on more than
one occasion.
With wedding season approaching, the jeweler had been
offering the rings at a reduced price. Nearing the shopping center where
Lismore Family Jewels was located, Maggie pulled into the car park located
underground. She usually hated driving around in town, mostly because people
were in general impatient arses, but this morning the drive had not been so
bad.
Trotting up to the entrance of the shopping center, Lady
Margaret was pleased to see that the early morning crowd was much thinner than
normal today. The shops were opening one by one, and she took a seat on a
bench outside the jewelry shop. It was one of the last ones to open, which
Maggie took note of. She was careful not to look as though she was staring,
and she carefully eyed the man inside the shop who was directing the other
sales clerks to their stations. It was time to have a chat with the man.
Meanwhile, as Lady Maggie rose to confront the jewelry store
owner, Inspector Tom Sullivan was leaned over his desk at the police station
with his head cradled in his hand.
“Auntie, auntie….listen…” he said quietly.
“No, you listen, dear. I sent you no such package. I’m
certainly not dead, and I have all of my fingers! So whatever you found in a
jar inside a box has nothing to do with me. And quite frankly, you’re making
me nervous. You sound quite shaken up. You should get some sleep…or make a
cup of tea.”
As he was trying to hang up the phone, the Detective Inspector’s
Sergeant bursts through the door and tries to interrupt his conversation. The
young officer had no tact when it came to when and where he was invited to
speak, and was always in a hurry. Tom liked the guy, but Sergeant Daniels
always seemed to be running late, and everyone else’s time suffered for it. He
hung up quickly and turned to Sergeant Gerard Daniels with a sigh.
“Sir,” the young man was breathing heavily, as though he’d
jogged down the hall….and everywhere else he’d been that morning.
“Sir, I’ve only found three women reported missing in the
last few weeks. These are the only three that fit the description from the
forensics lab.” Gerard handed him three pieces of paper fresh off the
printer. The finger apparently belonged to a Caucasian woman in her early
twenties.
“She’s had a manicure pretty recently,” Tom said aloud.
“Now we just need a body to go with this finger.”
Chapter 3
Back at the shopping center, the little bell on the door dinged
as Maggie walked in. The man she assumed was the manager looked surprised to
see her for some reason, and
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