Murder is the Pits
A Peachtree Point Cozy Mystery Book 2
J.A. Whiting
and
Amanda Diamond
Copyright 2020 J.A. Whiting
Cover copyright 2020 Susan Coils at www.coverkicks.com
Formatting by Signifer Book Design
Proofreading by Donna Rich: [email protected]
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, or incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to locales, actual events, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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For my family with love
Chapter 1
Peachtree Point, New Hampshire was preparing for its annual Peachtree Festival and the whole town was all abustle with plans for the summer event. Located just a little more than an hour from Boston and fifteen minutes from Portsmouth, the small community by the sea was proud of its history.
In its prior incarnation, the area known as Peachtree Point had once been nothing more than deciduous trees and orchards, many of which had long since been leveled to build the town on the coast. Now only one large commercial orchard remained, Deer Run Orchards, located on the edge of the community.
Deer Run would feature prominently in the summer event, allowing festival goers to pick their own peaches and other fruit. The orchard was part of the fabric and history of the town with community events often centered around the one hundred-and-fifty-acre farm, including the popular haunted orchard at Halloween and the community winter celebration in January.
On a busy, bright August morning, the Peachtree Public Library was also bustling with plans and preparations for the part it would play in the festival. Library director Heather Redding and her assistant director and best friend Sylvie Field were working on a display for the lobby that featured all things peach. They’d placed a large, round table in the center of the lobby so that patrons wouldn’t miss it as they entered the old train depot which had been turned into the town library, now renovated and expanded.
“Are those new earrings?” Sylvie studied the gold and silver antique oval stud earrings that covered her friend’s earlobes.
Heather nodded and smiled. “Paul brought them home to me from his trip to New York City. He gave them to me last night.” She thought she noticed a momentary look of sadness pass over Sylvie’s face for an instant, but then it was gone.
“How’s Frank getting along with his play on the history of Peachtree Point?” Heather straightened a large coffee table book that didn’t want to remain upright.
“Okay, I guess.” Sylvie’s expression darkened as she took a couple of steps away from the display to get the full effect. “I think that book you’re struggling with should be on something to raise it above the others. We can make it the centerpiece.”
Heather followed her friend’s suggestion and then joined her to look at the result. “It does make a good focal point,” she agreed.
“We need to work on the genealogy workshop we’re featuring for the festival. I wanted to show you what I’ve done so far and get your feedback.” Abruptly, Sylvie turned to walk toward her office.
Heather followed, pushing her long, dark brown hair over her shoulder and wondering if Sylvie was really this engaged with her work or if maybe the play Frank was working on was a sore subject with her.
Now in their late twenties, the two women had grown up together and had been like sisters since kindergarten. Heather knew when something was troubling her childhood friend and she sensed that might be the case now. Considering who the play’s co-author was, Heather wouldn’t be surprised if the play was causing problems between Sylvie and Frank.
When Heather reached Sylvie’s office, her friend was opening a manila folder in the middle of her desk. Heather could see the rigidity in her shoulders and her movements seemed shaky.
“Sylvie, are you okay?” she asked gently.
When Sylvie straightened up, her short, curly, auburn hair fell around her face, and she placed one hand over her eyes and the other on her hip. After several seconds of tense silence, she said, “No, I’m not okay. That ... that ... woman is really getting under my skin.”
Heather didn’t have to ask which woman Sylvie was referring to. She knew all too well about Arielle Connors, the theatre teacher at the local high school, the same school where Frank, Sylvie’s fiancé, worked.
Arielle and Frank, a high school English teacher, had been seen lately in the Peachtree Diner and other places around town, their heads closely bent over papers and a laptop, laughing and apparently enjoying working together.
Maybe a little too much, Heather thought. Others around town had voiced similar sentiments and it wouldn’t be the first time Arielle had broken up a couple, or even a marriage.
“I wouldn’t be too happy if Paul was working with Arielle.” Heather sank into one of the two chairs in front of Sylvie’s desk. “She doesn’t have the best track record, but Frank can’t be attracted to her. She isn’t his type.”
“I wonder if all the divorced women and jilted girlfriends she’s left in her wake thought the same thing.” Sylvie abandoned the folder on her desk and settled into her chair. “I wouldn’t have thought there would be a problem, either. I mean, it isn’t like Frank hasn’t known Arielle for years. They teach at the same school, for heaven’s sake.” Sylvie moved her hand in the air. “But he’s changed since they started working together on this play. He’s always too busy for me now. Half the time he’s too busy to even talk to me and when he does, I have the feeling he isn’t listening to a word I say. It’s like he’s constantly somewhere else, and it’s pretty obvious where that somewhere else is.”
“You have to admit though, Frank has always sort of been somewhere else. He has that ethereal, preoccupied air about him, like he’s writing poetry in his head instead of really listening to the conversation. That’s just Frank.”
“I know what you mean, but, this isn’t Frank at all. This is someone else. He’s changed ... a lot. He’s more like someone under a spell, or….” Sylvie let her words trail off and she gave her friend a sad look.
“Or ... what?” Heather asked, and then it began to dawn on her. “Oh, my gosh. You can’t think he’s in love with Arielle?”
“Isn’t he? Isn’t that how people in love behave?” Sylvie demanded. “I think I’m losing him.”
Heather could see the tears welling in Sylvie’s eyes. If that’s what her friend really believed, no wonder she’s been upset and behaving so oddly recently.
“Maybe you’re not giving Frank enough credit,” Heather said gently. “I can’t believe he would fall for Arielle’s act, and if he is falling for it, then, honestly, maybe he isn’t the right man for you.”
Sylvie snatched a tissue from the box on her desk and dabbed her eyes, nodding her head in agreement with Heather’s statement. “I’m sorry. We have to get back to work. The Peach Festival is next week. We don’t have time for this stuff.” With a sigh, she said, “Maybe Frank isn’t the person I thought he was. I just wish that woman would move away … or drop dead.”
“With all the broken hearts and homes she’s wrecked, I’m surprised someone hasn’t killed her already.” Heather shook her head. “You can’t ruin people’s lives and just get away with it forever. What goes around comes around.”
“Well, I wish karma would hurry up and catch up to her and bite her in the butt.” Sylvie ran her hand over her eyes. “It’s way past time she got what she has coming to her.”
***
Not far from the library, Paige Bennett, owner and operator of The New You Day Spa, and her esthetician Corrine Anderson were putting the finishing touches on a wall display featuring Corinne’s homemade lotions, facial masques, and other skin care products.
Corrine’s Native American grandmother on her mother’s side had taught her about the Wampanoag ways since Corrine was young. Her grandmother had instilled in the little girl a fierce pride of her native ancestry and a love of her culture. In addition to having been trained as a certified esthetician, Corrine was also an expert herbalist and used her knowledge to produce an exclusive line of skin and hair care products for the spa.
Paige considered herself blessed to have Corrine as an employee and friend.
The two women made for a striking comparison. Paige was tall and slender with a long blond bob hairstyle that never had a strand out of place. Her fingers and toes were always perfectly manicured and her taste in clothing was fashion-forward.
Corrine was also tall, a fact she attributed to her Irish father, but where her father was fair, Corrine had inherited the dark looks of her Wampanoag ancestors along with a thick, glossy mane of blue-black hair that hung to her waist. Today it hung down her back in a long, thick braid. Her taste in clothing ran to a mixture of Western and Bohemian with a riot of bright colors intermixed with more somber earth tones. Her jewelry was usually silver and turquoise.
Paige and Corrine made an improbable and even incongruous pair, yet they worked together like hand and glove, one complementing the other, often even finishing each other’s sentences.
“I have to pick up the coupons today for the drawing at the festival,” Paige said, as she gave the display one final tweak by turning a bottle of skin lotion so that the label faced forward.
“I can do that,” Corrine volunteered. “I can pick them up at lunchtime. Do you want me to check on the newspaper ad, too?”
“I appreciate it, but I have a few errands to run so I might as well swing by the newspaper on my way to the library. Heather told me we could leave flyers and some coupons in the lobby for the patrons.”
Corrine nodded. “I need to go there, too. I’m doing a presentation on New England Native American history for the festival and I need to firm up the details with Sylvie. Why don’t we split the errands and then we can both meet at the library. I don’t have an appointment until 2:30. With both of us working on things, we can be back here sooner.”
“I don’t know what I’d do without you.” Paige gave Corrine’s shoulder a squeeze.
Corrine smiled. “I like working here. Where else could I peddle my homemade concoctions?”
“Your homemade concoctions are selling like hotcakes. Will you have time to make more of that line of peach products you were hoping to feature for the Peach Festival?”
“I finished them over the weekend. I just need to box them and load them into my SUV. My sister and her two boys are going to help me tonight.”
“That’s great. I really think they’re going to sell out in a flash.”
Chapter 2
Paige and Corrine went over the list of errands, divided them between themselves, and set out. Nearly an hour later, errands run, they met up in the lobby of the library.
Right away, Corrine noticed Sylvie wasn’t her usual bubbly self, but then the week before the Peachtree Festival was always hectic and everyone was stressed and half done in by the time it arrived. As Corrine was leaving, she handed one of the coupons for a free facial to the librarian.
“What’s this for?” Sylvie said, taking the coupon. “I thought these were for the drawing at the festival.”
“There’s a bunch of discount coupons that we’re leaving for your patrons, but this one’s for you. Consider it a thank you for letting us leave the coupons here. You’re giving us free advertising, after all. I plan to give one to Heather, as well.” Corrine hadn’t planned to do any such thing, but Heather deserved to be thanked, too.
“Well, thank you so much,” Sylvie said. “It would be nice to be pampered.”
“We all deserve some pampering now and then,” Corrine said with a warm smile. “Why don’t you come tomorrow after work? I’ll be working late anyway.”
“Sure, I can do that,” Sylvie said. “Thanks again.”
“Why don’t you come by as soon as you close, say just after six? We can have dinner together and then go back to the salon. Unless you have dinner plans?”
Sylvie stared down at the ticket in her hand, and then she shook her head, setting her curls to bobbing. “Nope, no dinner plans. That works great. I look forward to it.” She lifted her head to meet Corrine’s eyes.
Corrine noticed Sylvie’s usual twinkle was absent. What in the world was going on with her? She didn’t know the young woman that well, but had always liked her. It pained her to see the librarian looking so glum. Sylvie usually lit up any room she was in, but now she seemed to have lost her natural sparkle.
Still wondering what might be wrong, Corinne made her way back to the Circulation Desk where Paige was talking to Heather.
“All set? Did you get your details worked out?” Paige asked Corrine when she joined her at the curving counter where the patrons checked out their materials.
“Yep, I did. Oh, that reminds me.” Corrine dug into the pocket of her multi-colored skirt and withdrew a coupon just like the one she’d given to Sylvie a few minutes earlier. She handed the coupon to Heather. “I gave one of these to Sylvie and I’d like you to have one, too. It’s our way of saying thanks for giving us free advertising.”
“This is great, but you don’t have to ... really.” Heather looked from Corinne to Paige. “We all help each other out.”
“Exactly,” Paige said. “And this is our way of helping you out.” She smiled at Heather who returned the smile.
“If you’re not busy, how about Wednesday after work? Like I told Sylvie, I’ll be working late every day this week to get ready for the Peach Festival. Why don’t you just come to the salon as soon as you close? We can catch some dinner and then go back to the salon for your facial.”
“That’s perfect. But are you sure you want to commit to that with all you have to do? I could come after the festival.”
“No, Wednesday’s fine. I can do other things while you’re soaking or having the facial. It will work out well,” Corrine assured her.
“Then Wednesday it is.” Heather tucked a loose strand of hair over her ear. “I think Paul is out of town that evening, so I wouldn’t have any dinner plans. I’m looking forward to it.”
“Me, too.” Corrine gave a nod. “I’ll see you Wednesday.”
When Paige and Corrine reached the library parking lot where they’d left their cars, Paige paused beside the building and turned to her friend. “That was a great idea you had to give Heather and Sylvie those coupons.”
“Well, I really can’t take too much credit for the idea. I gave one to Sylvie on the spur of the moment because she looked so downcast and sad. Then I decided to give one to Heather, too. What’s going on with Sylvie anyway? Do you know?”
“I’m surprised you haven’t heard. Unfortunately, there’s gossip about it all over town.” Paige screwed her face into an expression of distaste. “You know that Frank and Sylvie have been in a fairly long term relationship for a while now. They’ve been engaged for a couple of years. You remember him, he teaches English at the high school.”
Corrine nodded to indicate that she knew who Frank was, and the two women began to walk toward their vehicles which were parked side by side.
“Well, you also know Arielle Connors who teaches theater at the high school?” Paige asked, her words more of a statement than a question because every living female in Peachtree Point knew Arielle and her reputation.
Corrine rolled her eyes. “Oh, I sure do.”
“Yeah, exactly. So Frank and Arielle have been working together on the play about the founding of the town and it seems Arielle has gotten her claws into him, although I would never have believed it of Frank unless I’d seen it with my own eyes.”
“That’s really hard to believe.” Corrine placed one hand on her hip. She knew little about Frank, but having met him with Sylvie on several occasions, she’d taken an instant liking to him, just as she had to Sylvie … and Corrine’s impressions of people were rarely wrong. “What do you mean you’ve seen it with your own eyes? What have you seen exactly?”
“Well, nothing scandalous or anything like that,” Paige said. “It’s just that it seems everywhere I go around town, Frank and Arielle are always together. Always. It’s hard to remember the last time I saw Frank and Sylvie together. The two teachers are always laughing and completely intent on one another, like they’re in their own little world.”
“Or only had eyes for each other,” Corrine said quietly, getting the picture all too clearly. “I so hate to hear that. I liked both Sylvie and Frank and they seemed so good together. How many couples has Arielle broken up? I’ve lost count. The last incident I know of is Emmalyn Roy’s husband, Ryan.”
Paige made another face of disgust. “I remember. Arielle convinced him during one of her acting workshops that he had real acting talent and the potential for stardom. He filed for divorce the next week, and after staying at Arielle’s house for several days, he took off to Boston to become a professional model and was never heard from again.”
Corrine’s face took on an equally disgusted expression and she nodded her head. “I remember the two of them were riding around town in her red sports car with the top down, laughing and kissing. He came into the spa one day wanting what he referred to as ‘the works.’ I told him I was booked up for the next two weeks. Arielle, who was with Ryan, told him to forget it. She told him there were much better spas in Boston or Portsmouth and they left in a huff.”
“When was this? How did I miss that?” Paige asked, sounding incredulous.
“Just a day or two before Ryan left town. I think you were in Boston that day, attending some business workshop.”
“Oh, that’s right.”
Corrine shrugged. “It made me angry at the time. I could’ve strangled Arielle, especially knowing how devastated and humiliated Emmalyn felt. I guess I worked hard to put it out of my mind.”
“Poor Emmalyn,” Paige said, shaking her head slowly. “She almost lost the business over that. I’m sure she still struggles.”
Emmalyn Roy owned and operated a small health food store that specialized in healthy smoothies and snacks and promoted a vegan lifestyle. She also taught yoga classes three times a week at the gym that was next door to her small store.
“She does struggle financially,” Corrine said. “I’ve been mentioning her yoga classes to my clients when they come in, trying to send more business her way. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Of course not,” Paige said. “I think it’s a great idea. Maybe we can promote her classes as a way to whole beauty ... you know, beauty inside as well as out.”
“I’ll see what I can dream up after this festival is over.” Corrine was pleased that Paige was onboard with the idea of helping Emmalyn. “I just can’t take on one more thing until things go back to normal.”
“Well, let’s get back to the spa and start working on those gift baskets we’re giving away as prizes at the festival,” Paige said. She unlocked her car, then paused with her hand on the door handle. “I hope Frank sees through Arielle’s behavior before it’s too late for his relationship with Sylvie. I hate to see another casualty caused by that woman. Someone really should do something to stop her.”
“I doubt there’s any way to stop someone like Arielle Connors short of killing her,” Corrine said bitterly. “As long as there’s breath in her body, she is going to cause others pain.”
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