A Stoneybrook Mystery Collection Read online

  A Stoneybrook Mystery Collection

  Books 1-3

  Eryn Scott

  Kristopherson Press

  Contents

  Also by Eryn Scott

  A Crafty Crime

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Recipes

  A Fresh Kill

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Recipes

  A Sweet Death

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Recipes

  Untitled

  Also by Eryn Scott

  About the Author

  Copyright © 2019 by Eryn Scott

  Published by Kristopherson Press

  All rights reserved.

  www.erynwrites.com

  [email protected]

  Facebook: @erynscottauthor

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  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Cover by Mariah Sinclair

  Created with Vellum

  Also by Eryn Scott

  Mystery:

  The Pepper Brooks Cozy Mystery Series

  The Stoneybrook Mysteries

  Women’s fiction:

  The Beauty of Perhaps

  Settling Up

  The What’s in a Name Series

  In Her Way

  Romantic comedy:

  Meet Me in the Middle

  A Crafty Crime

  A Stoneybrook Mystery

  1

  When people asked Hadley James what day of the week she liked best, she would always answer Saturday, without hesitation.

  Until that particular Saturday.

  Even though her day was doomed to go down the drain faster than a failed batch of jam, it began remarkably well.

  Hadley woke to the spring sun streaming in through her bedroom window. In the small mountain valley tucked in northwest Washington, sun was always welcome. She appreciated it even more that morning, as it marked the first outside market of the year.

  The year-round Stoneybrook Farmers Market moved inside during the fall and winter months, but Hadley loved it when they transitioned to Fenton Park for the spring and summer. She was ecstatic to get out of the community center and into the fresh air.

  The last few months had been difficult to say the least, and this spring felt like a new start for Hadley.

  She didn’t exactly jump out of bed with a smile on her face, but her excitement for the market that day definitely made it a little easier to roll out from under the covers and stumble into the shower.

  Her enthusiasm built as she went through her morning routine, almost making her feel like a kid again. The feeling was so strong that, as Hadley headed down the stairs, she decided to take them at a run, skipping the last three steps like she used to as a little kid and landing with a thump in the hall. Unlike when she was younger, however, her left knee gave a twinge of pain as her feet touched down on the old wood floor.

  Hadley winced, reaching down to massage the aching joint. She was only thirty, but body parts that had never been in pain before now seemed to scream out in complaint. Ugh, she thought. I seriously needed to increase my supplements. Never had she foreseen being so interested in the merits of glucosamine and fiber.

  Shaking out her knee, Hadley headed into the kitchen to put together a breakfast suitable for eating on the go. Then she sent a quick message to her best friend, Suzanne.

  On my way, but I have to stop at Edith’s to feed the cat.

  Suzanne answered right back.

  Thanks for the heads-up. Have I mentioned lately that you’re a WAY better person than me? I don’t know how you put up with that woman.

  Hadley sent back a winking emoji and shook her head.

  That woman was Edith Butler, and she had been her great-aunt’s best friend before she’d passed away. Hadley wasn’t about to turn her back on the woman like the others in Stoneybrook had. Though to be fair to the rest of the town, Edith was cranky, combative, and downright nosy. But since Hadley’s divorce finalized just a couple months ago and close to half the town was barely speaking to her, she’d started to feel a kind of affinity with Edith. So she’d told Mrs. Butler she would look after her cat while the older woman visited her sister’s.

  An apple, cheese, and her water bottle would have to do for breakfast. After tucking them under one arm, Hadley grabbed her purse and headed outside. She followed the little stone path around to the side of the house where a pink bike was propped up against the siding. Placing her belongings in the wicker basket tied to the front, she wheeled it around to the driveway.

  Her twin brother, Paul, had gotten the bike for her on their birthday last year and although he’d stuck the basket on as a joke, Hadley couldn’t imagine doing without it at that point. His joke had proven to be quite thoughtful.

  That was Paul in a nutshell, though. Always trying to mess with her, but actually showing her how much he cared. Not that she’d let the truth about his soft side get out. It might ruin his reputation.

  As one of the local deputy sheriffs, Paul had to maintain an air of authority and seriousness, something that wasn’t hard to do looking like he did. At well over six feet, Paul was the exact opposite to Hadley in height and build. He was tall and broad shouldered while she cut a smaller, curvier figure. The only thing they shared was their mother’s dark hair and their father’s blue eyes. But as intimidating as her brother appeared, Hadley knew as well as the rest of the locals that he was a big softy.

  What neither Paul nor Hadley had known when he got the bike for her was how handy it would come
to be, especially since she’d decided to sell her car to pay for a delivery van just a few months later. And while she’d meant to replace the hatchback, her divorce had left her strapped for cash. So for now, the bike would have to do. It didn’t hurt that the heart of downtown was only a ten minute walk away and even the farthest reaches of the valley’s riverside farms were accessible with a half-hour bike ride.

  The spring air rushed past Hadley as she picked up speed and headed toward Mrs. Butler’s little yellow house. Though she couldn’t see it, Hadley could hear the great Cascade River from behind a line of alder trees. She knew the breeze whooshing around her body was from the cold mountain water constantly rushing by.

  Edith’s house was just a few streets down from Hadley’s, but it was at the end of a long road so it always felt like a trek. The little yellow cottage Edith called home was the only house on her road—well, except the Fenton’s old tenant house that sat at the back edge of their farm. But no one had lived there for ages.

  Biking down Edith’s gravel drive, Hadley finally arrived at her house, which sat right on the edge of the Fenton family’s longest expanse of grassy farmland.

  This was the second time in as many months Hadley had watched Edith’s cat. While the woman had seemed surprised when Hadley had offered last time, she seemed almost dumbstruck this time. But it wasn’t too much trouble and the woman had an awesome cat, so Hadley didn’t mind spending more time with him.

  The cat’s name was Ansel, after the older woman’s favorite photographer—she always said it was because the little cat was black and white, just like Ansel Adam’s pictures. Ansel had been the runt of his litter, so he was much smaller than the average house cat. But he made up for his diminutive size with an attitude as big as the mountains captured in his namesake’s photos.

  Speaking of the fluffy devil, he was perched on the railing of the porch, waiting for her when she rounded the last corner.

  Huh, that’s odd, Hadley thought as she pumped the brakes and skidded to a stop just outside the white picket fence. Edith had definitely said she was going to leave Ansel inside.

  “Hey, buddy,” she called as she picked her way down the path into the front garden. “Whatcha doin’ out here?”

  Ansel dipped his head like he was rubbing up against an invisible hand and meowed.

  “You break out?” Hadley glanced at the windows visible from where she stood. A few were open, but they all had screens that appeared to be intact.

  Again, Ansel meowed in response, as if he and Hadley were having a conversation.

  “Okay, well … Let’s go inside then and check the rest of the windows.”

  She scooped him up with one hand, holding him close as she grabbed Edith’s spare key from behind the wooden sign inscribed with The Butlers. Fiddling a second with the key in the lock, Hadley opened the door and let Ansel jump down as she stepped inside. He slipped into the other room while she closed the door behind them.

  Edith’s house always held the distinct, mingled scents of fragrant lavender and dusty wool. As the owner of the town’s knitting shop, Edith not only ordered and sold quality yarns, but had started spinning her own on a spindle she’d purchased a few years ago.

  Glancing at the small table in the entryway where she set the keys during her visits, Hadley frowned. Last time, Edith had left a note with instructions for her, telling her how much to feed Ansel, when to let him in and out, and what plants to water in the garden if the temperature wandered high enough. It was possible the old woman assumed Hadley knew what to do at this point, but knowing Edith and her controlling ways, that didn’t add up.

  Hadley walked into the kitchen to where Edith usually set the container of Ansel’s dry food alongside a small tower of wet food she liked to mix in so he didn’t get bored. As she rounded the corner, she saw the countertop was empty of food as well. Hadley frowned, sure she could feel the lines she tried to moisturize away each night form between her eyebrows.

  Instead, there was a stack of flyers Edith had been handing out at her yarn shop opposing the proposal to build a golf course in town. Scanning the rest of the countertop, Hadley noticed a stack of colorful bowls, a shiny industrial blender, and a few prescription bottles lined up behind the sink.

  “Ansel outside, no note, no food. What is going on, Edith?” Hadley whispered to herself. She picked at her light pink nail polish absentmindedly as she thought.

  Seeing a paper stuck underneath the flyers, Hadley moved them aside. Maybe Mrs. B had accidentally covered up her instructions. But as Hadley opened the folded piece of paper, she realized it wasn’t a list of directions for a house sitter. The paper she held in her hands was a note, and quite a threatening one at that.

  You’ve already taken what’s mine once. I won’t stand for it again. Watch your back!

  The handwriting was feminine but bold, as if the author had pressed down hard with the pen as she wrote it. A few of the words had three lines underneath, accentuating them. Hadley shook her head. Edith was infamous for leaving angry letters around town, complaining via written word just about as often as she did in person. Hadley wondered who Edith was mad at now.

  Suddenly, an ear-piercing yowl split through the silence of the house, making Hadley jump and drop the note onto the counter. The noise had to be Ansel, though Hadley was quite sure she’d never heard the even-tempered cat make any such sound.

  Hadley traced the noise to the back of the house, by the sunroom, and headed in that direction.

  She skidded to a stop when she found him.

  Ansel was pacing at the foot of a floral armchair, the spring morning sunshine creating dappled patterns on his dark fur as he walked.

  In the chair sat Edith Butler. Her head was tipped forward and her eyes were closed, but there was something about the pallor of her skin that told Hadley the woman wasn’t just taking a nap in her favorite spot.

  Shaking worse than an oak leaf on a windy day, she stepped forward and placed two trembling fingers to the woman’s neck. Her skin was cold to the touch, but even more concerning was the lack of heartbeat.

  She stumbled back as her fears were confirmed. Edith Butler was dead.

  Hadley was sure she would never look at Saturdays the same way.

  2

  “C-come here, Ansel.” Hadley tried to coax the cat away from the body while slipping her phone from her pocket at the same time.

  Ansel, however, stayed put. He stared at Hadley, his amber eyes glittering with defiance. He wasn’t going to leave Edith’s side without a fight.

  Hadley sighed out a shaky breath and then nodded in understanding. She, however, was not the woman’s loyal companion and standing so close to the body royally freaked her out. Taking a few more steps back, she focused on her phone and dialed her brother.

  “Hey, Had. What’s up?” Paul asked through the phone.

  Hadley swallowed and stepped back once more, fingers shaking, and the phone slipped a little.

  “Had, you there?” he asked, louder this time.

  “Paul.” His name was a gasp. “She’s not—I found—I’m at Mrs. Butler’s.” She couldn’t seem to make herself say the words.

  Her brother’s tone tightened. “What’s wrong?”

  Taking a deep breath, she pushed the answer out all at once. “Edith is dead.” She couldn’t take her eyes off the woman’s unmoving form.

  “I’m on my way. Don’t move.” Paul hung up.

  Tucking the phone back into her pocket, she hugged her arms around her middle and looked around. She was alone in the house with a body. Birds chirped happily in the garden outside and the river rushed by just out of sight through a line of trees. The pleasant sounds felt so out of place as Hadley stared at the poor old woman.

  Unable to handle the sight any longer, she turned away, settling her attention on the large Ansel Adams photograph of a silvery river snaking around the feet of jagged mountains. She didn’t know which range was pictured, and even though it was beautiful, there w
as something somber about the black and white photograph that seemed to fit this situation much better than the cheery spring day happening outside. Hadley imagined being a part of the picture, wandering the dark hills, looking up at those towering precipices and wondering when everything became so dark.

  Several minutes must’ve passed while she was lost in that photograph, because the sound of tires screeching to a stop outside pulled Hadley from her thoughts.

  Paul.

  Scurrying over to the front door, Hadley opened it just in time to see her brother jumping out of his truck. He ran over to her, eyebrows pulled tight over worried eyes. Paul wore his normal tan sheriff’s shirt, but it was still unbuttoned. He didn’t usually go in to the station until eight on Saturdays, so she must’ve caught him right in the middle of getting ready.