Murder & Mayhem in Goose Pimple Junction by Amy Metz Page B
Authors: Amy Metz
a.m.?
t.
She went back to replying to Sara’s e-mail but noticed a flashing tab about five minutes later. It was a chat invitation from Jack.
mysteryman : I’m reading my latest chapter to Esmerelda. It’s putting her to sleep. What are you doing up?
Btw—what does the m stand for in mtess?
“ Who’s Esmerelda?” she said aloud. “Surely he doesn’t have a woman at his house while he’s instant messaging me. That cad! I’m not asking. I won’t give him the satisfaction.”
mtess: Couldn’t sleep. Writer’s block. Mary Tess.
mysteryman: Mary Tess. I like it. Writer’s block? You didn’t ask, but my first suggestion would be to put down the pen, so to speak. It's about as useless to you right now as using a snow shovel to scrape wallpaper, and all you're gonna do is frustrate yourself.
mtess: Pen and snow shovel have been put away for the evening. Thanks.
mysteryman: The next thing I'd do is find something to relax your mind awhile. Let's see, what'd do the trick? How about a nice quiet homemade dinner for two? It's too bad you don't know of someone who shares in your craft to invite over.
Oh, no he’s not, she thought. He wouldn’t be inviting me to dinner at the same time he’s entertaining another woman. He wouldn’t do that. But Lou did say . . .
Another IM came in.
mysteryman: Yep, I think what you need is to have some fella put dinner together for you tomorrow night . . . well, I guess that would be tonight. If you don't mind me saying, I think I know just the right guy. I'll tell him to expect you for 8:00. I hope I'm not being too presumptuous. Bye Tess.
“Oh good grief!” she shrieked aloud, pounding the bed with her fists. “What am I supposed to do now? That man is unbelievable! Oh!” she banged her head against the headboard. If I call him to decline, he’ll just insist I come. I am not going. I refuse to be one of his conquests .
Since Jack had logged off of Yahoo, she decided to send him an e-mail.
Subject: Dinner
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Jack, thanks very much for the dinner invitation, but I’m afraid I have to decline. I already have plans.
She sat back and looked at her message. He couldn’t argue with that. She hit send.
* * *
The next morning, Tess went into the yard. She worked her way around the side of the house to the back, pulling weeds and deadheading blooms as she went. It was early morning, but it was starting to heat up. She sat down on the brick walk to rest, looking around her backyard. Her eyes swept around the perimeter of the yard, and she compiled a wish list in her head, mentally planning what she’d like to plant in the fall.
Deciding she could stand the heat for a little while longer, she scooted herself down the path, shifting from sitting to kneeling. The first thing that caught her attention was the small flowerbed under her office window, where small patches of purple, white, and yellow coneflowers were planted. Noticing some of the normally upright stems of the flowers were lying horizontally, she edged closer and saw that a portion of them had been trampled. She immediately thought of her dog, since he used to get into her previous garden almost daily. But I don’t have a dog now .
Tess tenderly picked up the trampled stems, looking to see if they were salvageable and noticed two fresh cigarette butts in the dirt.
Standing up to take a better look, she froze. Rain the previous night had made the garden slightly muddy, which made the footprints planted directly beneath the window particularly noticeable.
She stepped back as if she had seen a snake. Cold chills ran up her body. Someone had been watching her.
They Ate Supper Before They Said Grace
nemmine : interjection \nem-mahyn\ never mind
Aw, nemmine. I don’t have any proof.
[ 1935 ]
It just seems s’picious,” John Hobb whispered to his brother Trevor, three years
t.
She went back to replying to Sara’s e-mail but noticed a flashing tab about five minutes later. It was a chat invitation from Jack.
mysteryman : I’m reading my latest chapter to Esmerelda. It’s putting her to sleep. What are you doing up?
Btw—what does the m stand for in mtess?
“ Who’s Esmerelda?” she said aloud. “Surely he doesn’t have a woman at his house while he’s instant messaging me. That cad! I’m not asking. I won’t give him the satisfaction.”
mtess: Couldn’t sleep. Writer’s block. Mary Tess.
mysteryman: Mary Tess. I like it. Writer’s block? You didn’t ask, but my first suggestion would be to put down the pen, so to speak. It's about as useless to you right now as using a snow shovel to scrape wallpaper, and all you're gonna do is frustrate yourself.
mtess: Pen and snow shovel have been put away for the evening. Thanks.
mysteryman: The next thing I'd do is find something to relax your mind awhile. Let's see, what'd do the trick? How about a nice quiet homemade dinner for two? It's too bad you don't know of someone who shares in your craft to invite over.
Oh, no he’s not, she thought. He wouldn’t be inviting me to dinner at the same time he’s entertaining another woman. He wouldn’t do that. But Lou did say . . .
Another IM came in.
mysteryman: Yep, I think what you need is to have some fella put dinner together for you tomorrow night . . . well, I guess that would be tonight. If you don't mind me saying, I think I know just the right guy. I'll tell him to expect you for 8:00. I hope I'm not being too presumptuous. Bye Tess.
“Oh good grief!” she shrieked aloud, pounding the bed with her fists. “What am I supposed to do now? That man is unbelievable! Oh!” she banged her head against the headboard. If I call him to decline, he’ll just insist I come. I am not going. I refuse to be one of his conquests .
Since Jack had logged off of Yahoo, she decided to send him an e-mail.
Subject: Dinner
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Jack, thanks very much for the dinner invitation, but I’m afraid I have to decline. I already have plans.
She sat back and looked at her message. He couldn’t argue with that. She hit send.
* * *
The next morning, Tess went into the yard. She worked her way around the side of the house to the back, pulling weeds and deadheading blooms as she went. It was early morning, but it was starting to heat up. She sat down on the brick walk to rest, looking around her backyard. Her eyes swept around the perimeter of the yard, and she compiled a wish list in her head, mentally planning what she’d like to plant in the fall.
Deciding she could stand the heat for a little while longer, she scooted herself down the path, shifting from sitting to kneeling. The first thing that caught her attention was the small flowerbed under her office window, where small patches of purple, white, and yellow coneflowers were planted. Noticing some of the normally upright stems of the flowers were lying horizontally, she edged closer and saw that a portion of them had been trampled. She immediately thought of her dog, since he used to get into her previous garden almost daily. But I don’t have a dog now .
Tess tenderly picked up the trampled stems, looking to see if they were salvageable and noticed two fresh cigarette butts in the dirt.
Standing up to take a better look, she froze. Rain the previous night had made the garden slightly muddy, which made the footprints planted directly beneath the window particularly noticeable.
She stepped back as if she had seen a snake. Cold chills ran up her body. Someone had been watching her.
They Ate Supper Before They Said Grace
nemmine : interjection \nem-mahyn\ never mind
Aw, nemmine. I don’t have any proof.
[ 1935 ]
It just seems s’picious,” John Hobb whispered to his brother Trevor, three years
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