Thursday's Opening Scenes from The Midas Murders by Janet Lane Walters

The Midas Murders




Janet Lane Walters



Chapter 1

El Sueno Dorado



This year the Christmas season held little joy for me. There were a few brief moments of pleasure that vanished all too soon. Seeing a small child’s delight in the twinkling tree lights. Selecting gifts for my family, friends and neighbors. Watching my granddaughter perform the role of Clara in a local production of the Nutcracker. Those times did little to halt my feelings of regret and grief.



On Christmas Eve I sat with my family in a pew in St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church and huddled in my coat. The chill I felt had nothing to do with the voices of the choir raised in joyful celebration, or in the message of hope and peace contained in the sermon and the liturgy. My feelings were caused by things I had and had not done.



Though we sat several rows in front of the place where death had stained the stones of the floor, my awareness of past events nearly drove me to leave. Remembering last month’s Evensong and the death of the choir master brought frost-filled memories and stirred my guilt. For my covetousness had brought him here, and I’d been the one to discover the body.



Your fault. Your fault. Those words had circled in my thoughts for weeks.



As the candles were lit at midnight, I prayed my role in Roger Brandon’s death would fade and I could forgive myself. I also knew my decision to welcome the New Year in Santa Fe, New Mexico with my dear friend, Lars Claybourne, was mete and right. Thoughts of the trip had become my golden dream.



*****



The night before my departure, I carried a half dozen tins of dried mint to the bedroom. These were the last items for the suitcase on the antique sleigh bed. As I paused in the doorway, the urge to laugh was almost impossible to contain, but a stern approach was needed.



“Robespierre, an open suitcase is not a bed.” I glared at the Maine Coon cat who had curled among my neatly folded clothes. “You aren’t being abandoned. Maria and the baby are excited about your visit.”



The look of disdain on his face brought my laughter bubbling forth. I dumped the tea on the bed, scratched his head, then lifted twenty-five pounds of cat from the case. “Be gone.” As he stalked from the room, his tail twitched to signal his displeasure at being banished.



After tucking my stash among my clothes, I closed the case. With a supply of teas for every occasion, I felt prepared to face my flight to an unfamiliar destination. I wheeled the suitcase and carried a hanging bag to the kitchen where they would be on hand for my early morning departure. My son had grumbled about the hour, but he’d promised to get me to the plane on time.



Robespierre now lay on the kitchen floor and stared at the case containing my belated Christmas present for Lars’ granddaughter. I plugged in the electric kettle, this year’s gift from one of my neighbors, selected an assortment of mints and stuffed a tea ball.



Once the tea had steeped, I poured a mug and headed to the living room where I settled on the window seat. The lights from the Tappan Zee Bridge vied with the moonlight dancing on the dark waters of the Hudson River. Stars formed patterns in the sky. I never tire of watching the river and my early morning walks often end at the river’s edge.



The shrill ring of the phone startled me. I grabbed the receiver. “Hello.”



“Kate.”



“Lars, is something wrong?” Why was he calling when he’d see me tomorrow? Had something happened to make it necessary for me to postpone my visit?



“Jitters. Afraid you’ve changed your mind. You’ve never come before. And...there is something...” His voice drifted into silence.



Something was bothering him, but extracting a story long distance is hard. Face to face is better. “My bags are packed and the tickets are in my purse.”



“Good. I’m looking forward to having you here.” He paused. “What are you doing with the cat?”



“He’ll be staying with Maria and the baby.” I chuckled. “At this moment he’s peeved. He tried to use my suitcase as a bed and I chased him.”



Lars laughed. “Guess he wants to come along. You could bring him.”



“Are you out of your mind? You want me to bring the creature who hates cars and being confined. He’ll be fine at the Prescott’s house. I’m looking forward to freedom from his tyranny.”



“He does tend to act like a dictator. Kate, we’ll have a grand time while you’re here. I’ve so many things planned for us to do.”



I set down the mug. “That’s not why you called. What is bothering you?”



His deep sigh rumbled in my ear. “The problem is...I’m not sure what’s going on.”



“So tell me what you can. Are Don and Megan all right?”



“They’re fine.”



“And...” I hesitated to ask if his daughter had staged a scene when she learned I’d accepted his invitation. “Is there a problem because I’m coming?”



“No.”



“Something else?”



“I’m not sure there is a problem.” He paused. “It’s just...vague...and...You know I plan to retire. I’ve been avoiding all the paperwork necessary for months. Last week I looked at some of the companies I’ve seeded. Something odd is going on.”



For years Lars has looked for new and sometimes unique businesses and provided funds for expansion and promotion. Most of these ventures have been successful and repayment of the loans with interest has made him a wealthy man.



“Someone’s stealing.” The words just popped out.



“Maybe, but I hope not. Except just before Ramona’s accident, she hinted she’d discovered a number of discrepancies. We found nothing in her records or her computer. I figured whatever she’d learned had been destroyed when her car burned.”



Eight months ago Lars’ daughter-in-law had died in a tragic accident. A chill crawled along my spine. “Do be careful.”



His laughter boomed. “You’re telling me to be careful. This warning comes from a woman who set herself up to be robbed, who had tea with a murderer, and who single-handedly trapped a killer.”



“I wasn’t in any danger.”



“If you say so...What time does your flight arrive? I’ll meet you at the airport.”



“No need. I’ve rented a car.”



“Why? I’ll be on hand to provide taxi service.”



The image of a glowering Lars stomping after me while I flitted from shop to shop made me chuckle. “How wonderful. Are you volunteering to go shopping with me? I plan to spend at least a day in the shops. Probably more.”



He groaned. “You win. See you tomorrow. You’ll need to announce yourself at the gate so I can buzz you in. Oh, bring an assortment of your mints.”



“Already packed.”



“And warm clothes.”



“Yes, Lars. Let me go so I can head to bed.”



“Do you remember the name of the estate?”



Why was he so reluctant to let me go? Tomorrow I planned to ask him a lot of questions and discover the answers. “How could I forget? Good night, Lars. See you tomorrow.”



After I hung up, I stared at the night sky. Something troubled him and I’d learned nothing from our conversation. Was I headed into another messy situation?



Stop it! Just because my nerves were frayed didn’t mean trouble lurked in Santa Fe.



Robespierre leaped to the window seat and rubbed his head against my hand. His rumbling purr soothed my nerves. An uneventful visit was my goal. There’d been enough mayhem in my life.

Thursday - Opening Scenes - Murder and Mint Tea by Janet Lane Walters #ammystery

 Thought I would ddo something interesting today. On Thursdays, instead of what I'm reading, I've decided to put up the first scenes of books I've written, one at a time starting with Murder and Mint Tea. Not the first book I ever published but the first electronic book in my list. The book is availabel on Kindle, Nook, I believe Kobo and other venues. This book was a fun one to write and started the series featuring Katherine Miller

Murder and Mint Tea


By Janet Lane Walters

DiskUs Publishing

ISBN 978-0-7572-0121-9



Chapter 1

Preparing The Ground



The pale winter sun shone through the kitchen window. I cleaned up the last of the mess from my adventure. The caper hadn’t gone as planned. How many do? In my many years of life, most of my plans had taken an unexpected turn.



Merup.” Robespierre, my Maine Coon cat, announced a visitor on the way. He’s almost as good as a doorbell. The firm rap on the door told me this wasn’t one of my female friends. “Come in.”



Pete Duggan strode across the room and thrust a bouquet of bright carnations into my hands. A red hue, almost as vivid as his hair, stained his face. “Mrs. Miller, got to hand it to you. I’ve come to eat crow.”



To hide a smile I buried my face in the flowers and inhaled the spicy fragrance. “How about chocolate chip cookies and mint tea instead?”



“Sounds great.” He straddled one of the chairs at the table and picked up the local newspaper. “Local Woman Thwarts Robbers.” His grin made him look like the ten-year-old who had moved into the corner house on my block. He cleared his throat. “The guys at the station ribbed me about this. Did you forget the plan?”



How, when the idea to catch the real thieves had been mine? A series of burglaries had plagued the neighborhood for months and had troubled me. Especially when the police had decided two teenage neighbor boys were the culprits. I knew the pair and had disagreed strongly enough to set myself up as a victim. Then I informed Pete.



“Did you forget?” he repeated. “When I crept up the stairs and saw you grappling with one of the men, I nearly had a heart attack.”



Heat singed my cheeks. “How was I to know my date would poop out early?”



After filling two mugs with mint tea I opened a tin of freshly baked cookies. How could I admit to a nagging doubt, or tell him I had wanted to be part of the action? In July I had turned sixty-five and in September retired from the nursing staff at Tappan Zee Memorial Hospital. Six months of placid existence had made me edgy. Lunch with friends, coffee with the neighbors and weekly bridge games with old cronies bored me. These events held none of the challenge of meeting crises at the hospital.



Pete scowled. “You could have gone to the Prescott's house.”



“They’re away.” I sipped the tea and savored the cool mint flavor.



“The Randal’s’ then.” He pulled the other mug across the table. “The guys insist the two of us make one perfect cop. Want to hire on?”



“I’ve no desire for a third career.” Until my husband’s death twenty-five years ago I had been the organist and choir director at St. Stephens Episcopal Church. Needing a way to support myself and my son, I enrolled in the nursing program at the community college. “Besides, I’m too old.”



“Old, never. You look the same as when we moved here.”



“It’s the dye.” His puzzled look tickled me. Dyeing my hair makes me look younger. “I came into the world with red hair and I intend to leave the same way.”



Laughter rumbled deep in his chest. “A worthy ambition you nearly fulfilled last night.” He touched my hand. “Thanks again. You kept me from making a mistake that could have ruined those boys.”



I lifted my mug and inhaled the aromatic steam. The evidence against the pair had been circumstantial and strong. They had done odd jobs at all the houses that had been burglarized. “I’ve known them since they were infants. Nothing I’ve ever seen in their actions to make me believe they were guilty.”



Pete made a face. “I’ve known them just as long. Didn’t stop me from suspecting them. How could you be sure?”



“Forty years of living in the same house has attuned me to the rhythms of the neighborhood.”



“Twenty years hasn’t helped me.”



“There’s living and living.” Some people are so concerned with the melody they never hear the underlying harmonics. As a musician I’ve learned to listen. As a nurse I know how to evaluate symptoms that are sometimes similar but are caused by different diseases. Those traits are a vital part of my nature.



I set the mug on the table. “Don’t blame yourself. You weren’t the only one to suspect the boys. No harm was done.”



He finished the cookie he held and rose. “No harm. Maybe some good. I’ll try looking beneath the surface.”



“That’s a great idea.”



He grinned. “I’m out of here. Work tonight.” He zipped his green down jacket. “How about acting as my silent partner?”



I laughed. “Go away with your nonsense.”



Just them the cat door opened. Robespierre made a grand entrance. Flakes of snow dotted his brown and black fur. His gait suggested a mission. He halted in front of Pete and banged the young policeman’s leg with his head.



Pete crouched and scratched the cat’s head. “Not my fault, old man. She jumped in on her own.”



Robespierre’s rumbling purr suggested he understood and accepted Pete’s explanation.



“He’s been out of sorts since the thieves visited.”



“Me, too.” Pete hugged me. “Never again. Promise. We need you around. Think about being a silent partner. There are times when I need someone to listen.”



“If listening is all you need, I’ll be here. No more active involvement in crime for me.”



“See you.” He clattered down the stairs.



Until I heard the front door close I remained at the top of the steps. Silent partner, no way. I rubbed the tender spot on my head where I’d been bashed. I had enough experience with crime to last the rest of my life.



* * *