Murder on Saint Patrick's Day Read online

  Murder on Saint Patrick’s Day

  A Ridgeway Rescue Mystery

  P. Creeden

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Murder on Saint Patrick's Day

  Murder on Saint Patrick’s Day

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Murder on Saint Patrick’s Day © 2018 P. Creeden

  Edited by Sheila Hollinghead

  All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.

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  Murder on Saint Patrick’s Day

  Ridgeway Rescue Mysteries can be read in 1-2 hours. Perfect for when you're waiting for an appointment or just want a fast read. Don't miss out on this quick, clean, cozy mystery that will keep you guessing until the end!

  It's Saint Patrick's Day and 20-year-old Emma Wright is hard at work, training five-month-old Molly, her foster puppy, to become a therapy dog. But her coach and neighbor gets an emergency call, cutting the lesson short, and Emma volunteers to pick up her daughter at a Saint Patrick's Day concert in town.

  When Emma arrives, the concert has just finished up, and teenage girls are visiting with the band. The lead singer stumbles and falls to the ground, dead. Emma, the only level head in the crowd, calls for help. When the sheriff and Colby arrive, they investigate it as a potential accident. But Emma finds subtle clues that something more sinister is going on. Did the leader of the band die in an accident, as everyone claims, or is it murder?

  Chapter 1

  Yellow covered the walls of the bright room at the community center, and the lacquered hardwood floor beneath them helped if any of the dogs were to have an accident. Molly had been running wild when they first got there, over-excited to see the other dogs. She’d now calmed down enough to give Emma a modicum of attention.

  Emma held the treat above Molly’s nose and asked her, “Sit?”

  The Saint Bernard tilted her head and continued to stand, wagging her tail behind her. Emma frowned. “Come on, Molly, work with me here.”

  “Not bad, Emma, but try to make it less of a question and more of a command. Therapy dogs need to be obedient and gentle. Molly has gentle down pretty well, but you’re going to have to work on the obedience part if this is going to be the right career path for her,” Mrs. Greenwood said with a smile. One eyebrow lifted as she continued to watch Emma.

  Determined to do better, Emma steeled herself, inhaled, and deepened her voice to sound like her father. “Sit, Molly.”

  Molly blinked and lowered her haunches to the floor.

  Emma nearly leaped in the air to do a fist pump but contained herself. Instead, she gave the puppy her treat and a big hug. “Good girl!”

  This was the first step for Molly to become a therapy dog. Emma sighed blissfully. Her dream for Molly could become a reality. Puppies did not normally become therapy dogs, and the AKC only recognized them when they were one-year-old, but Mrs. Greenwood had let Emma join the class anyway.

  They had been neighbors while Emma was growing up, and while in high school, Emma even babysat Mrs. Greenwood’s daughter, Stacy. There were four other dogs in the class, and none of them as big as Molly, even though they were full-grown. Even the Labrador retriever next to them stood a little shorter at her full height.

  Mrs. Greenwood stood toward the front of the room, clapping her hands to gain everyone’s attention. “Remember, folks, the goals we have for these dogs is to be friendly with strangers, quiet and calm, and good with other dogs and animals. This course will help accustom the dogs to situations they may experience when they are in real-life situations as therapy dogs and help them to become attuned to their handler through respect as well as affection.”

  Emma listened carefully to Mrs. Greenwood’s instructions and followed them to the letter. Emma smiled from ear to ear. She couldn’t wait to see what the course had in store for her and Molly. The class continued until the clock on the wall said it was nearly ending time, nine p.m.

  “I’m so happy that you all have decided to bring your pets in, to give them the opportunity to become better, happier animals socially and for them to serve their community as an active partner with you. Therapy dogs are an essential part of well-being and recover for many patients. From offering a non-judgmental listening ear for speech therapy to offering warm hugs for our seniors, the therapy dog is a much-needed part of the healing process. I hope you all will join me for the next session, and we’ll still take new students next week as well. Good night.” Mrs. Greenwood smiled and headed over to the table where she’d put out refreshments at the start of the class.

  Emma met her there. “Do you need any help packing things up?”

  Mrs. Greenwood smiled and nodded. “Absolutely. Thanks for the offer.”

  Sliding Molly’s leash over her wrist, Emma helped. The two of them packed away the remaining packets of cookies and the couple jugs of juice into milk crates, that made the supplies easier to carry. As they finished packing the last box, getting ready to head toward the exit, Mrs. Greenwood’s phone rang.

  She set her box back on the table to answer it, and the smile on her face disappeared, replaced by a deepening frown, her brows knitting. She blinked hard. “Okay. I’ll be right—Hello?”

  The blood had drained from her face as she hit the button on her phone a few times. “It’s dead.”

  “Is everything okay?” Emma asked, setting her box down and touching Mrs. Greenwood’s arm. “Do you need something? Maybe you should have a seat?”

  She shook her head. “I... I need to go.”

  Emma frowned. “Go where? What’s wrong?”

  Mrs. Greenwood’s brown eyes became focused on Emma’s. “My sister’s been in an accident. She... she’s at the hospital now. My phone died before I could even find out what room she’s in... if she’s in one...”

  Emma swallowed hard. “That’s awful. Is she going to be okay? Do you need me to drive you to the hospital?”

  She blinked. “No, I can do it. She’s not hurt seriously—just broke her arm. I’ve told her a million times riding a motorcycle was bad for her health, but she just doesn’t listen.”

  Relief washed over Emma. “I’m so glad things aren’t terrible.”

  “But Sarah needs me to get to the hospital to pick her up since she doesn’t have a ride home. She’s going to get an earful.” Mrs. Greenwood forced a smile and picked up her crate once more. “It’s just when she first told me she’d been in an accident, my heart sank, you know. And then I started thinking about all the different ways she co
uld have hurt herself... and then my phone died.”

  “I understand completely.” Emma took hold of her crate once more and followed Mrs. Greenwood.

  “Oh no!” Mrs. Greenwood stopped suddenly.

  “What is it?”

  “Stacy is at a Saint Patrick’s Day concert at that coffee shop on Main Street. I was supposed to pick her up as soon as class was over. I forgot. The hospital’s in the opposite direction, and Stacy is a total germaphobe—she’s not going to be happy to hear we’re going to the hospital. She’s going to tell me all about MRSA and other bugs that go through the hospital. Where on earth does she learn these things?”

  Emma shook her head. “Don’t worry. I can pick her up. It’s on the way for me.”

  “Really? No, I’ll call her friend’s parents... Wait. I forgot my phone was dead again.”

  “Are you sure you’re okay. You’re not thinking clearly. Maybe we should call you a taxi or ride share?”

  Mrs. Greenwood forced a smile. “No, seriously. Don’t worry about me. But honestly, it would be a help if you could pick up Stacy at the concert. She’s at the Main Street Café. But her dad’s out of town, and no one is at home...”

  “No sweat. I have no problem getting her and taking her to your house. I’ll even stay with her until you get home. She has a key, right? Do you need something else? You could take my phone with you, just in case. You’re sure you’re okay to drive?”

  “Yes, she has a key. I’m okay. And I have a charger in the car, but with my battery completely dead, it will be ten to fifteen minutes before I can charge it enough to use it. The old thing—I really ought to get a new phone. The battery doesn’t even last all day.”

  They reached Mrs. Greenwood’s car in the parking lot. She still drove the same silver mini-van that she had when Emma was in high school. This night was full of old memories.

  After she assured Mrs. Greenwood once more that she would take care of Stacy, she watched as her neighbor pulled the car out of the lot. Emma promised herself that she’d call her dad and have him follow the woman to the hospital if she even so much as forgot to use a blinker. Emma’s anxiety was rising and wasn’t fit to drive just yet. She worried that Mrs. Greenwood might not be either.

  Emma knelt and ran her hands through Molly’s long, fur. “Good girl, Molly. You’ll really have a blast going over to the Greenwood house. They have a beautiful little Pomeranian named Gracie.”

  Molly tilted her head and wagged her tail. Emma would swear the dog understood every word she said sometimes. She opened the back hatch of her silver SUV and asked the Saint Bernard to hop into the back. The air had just the slightest chill to it, and she shivered in the breeze, hugging her green sweatshirt to herself as she headed toward the driver’s side of the vehicle.

  Chapter 2

  Main Street of Ridgeway hosted several small shops and restaurants, as well as the Capri Twin movie theater and the local library. The sheriff’s office and fire station were at the south end of the street. Emma found a parking area down an alley off to the side of the Main Street Café. Only two other cars sat in the lot.

  Emma peered over at the café at the corner of the strip of shops on Main Street. The lights within illuminated the large area, and the people on stage were clearing out. The café itself was still about half-full, though more and more people were leaving via the exit.

  On Valentine’s, Emma and her good friend, Rachel, had visited the same café and had discovered the pet-friendly outdoor dining area. With a smile, Emma grabbed her leash and swung around to the back end of the SUV. After snapping the leash on Molly, Emma asked her, “Are you ready?”

  The Saint Bernard gave an excited yip before she hopped out of the vehicle. Emma shut the hatch, and together they walked across the street to the closing café. More cars pulled out of the smaller lot directly in front of the café, and a small crowd formed just outside the front of the door. About six teen girls giggled with excitement, and then grew to a magnified wail when the glass door to the café opened, and three men about Emma’s age stepped from the building.

  The one at the front had his hair dyed green and smiled wide toward the girls. His leather jacket swung over one shoulder and had as many studs on it as there were piercings around his nose and face, it seemed. Emma wondered exactly what kind of music this band played.

  One of the other artists behind him had a guitar strapped to his back, and a band t-shirt with the band’s logo, “Kiss me, I’m Irish” on it with the band’s name, “Irish,” written in red to mimic lipstick. He waved his hands at the girls, and Emma was struck with the fact that he wore a ring on nearly every one of his fingers, even his thumb.

  The third member of the band twirled drumsticks between his fingers. He was winning the contest to see who could have the most piercings in their face. Each of his eyebrows had more silver than hair.

  “Hope you all enjoyed the show tonight!” the band’s leader yelled above the crowd, and then he lifted his hands and began making pinching fingers. “Shall we see who forgot to wear green for our great Saint Patrick’s Day?”

  The girls squealed and giggled, but most of them wore band t-shirts themselves, which displayed the appropriate color. Emma smiled. Some of those girls might have been disappointed.

  “I know what you did!” a man yelled from off the side. He stepped closer and pushed the band leader. “She was just a baby and you took advantage of her!”

  Molly growled and scooted closer to Emma’s leg. Emma reached into her pocket and took her cell phone in hand, just in case she’d need to call her father.

  The young man pushed the band leader again, and the band leader fell backward, toward the drummer and the guitarist. His jacket fell to the side. A manger from inside the café pushed open the glass door and helped catch the band leader before releasing him and grabbing hold of the belligerent one. “Chris, hold on. Now’s not the time for this. There are kids around.”

  Chris flexed his fists, and his brow knit. The light from the café made his blue eyes shine brighter and glinted of his close-cropped silver-blond hair. “Now’s the perfect time for this. He messed with my sister, and so help me, I’ll make sure he never messes with another girl like that again!”

  The band leader hadn’t stood tall yet, and was hard to see through the crowd, but Emma heard him. “I... I can’t breathe. Help.”

  “Step back everyone—give Kellum some air!” the guitarist shouted.

  The crowd parted, and Kellum collapsed onto the ground, sitting cross-legged, his hands still on his chest. “I.. I can’t breathe. Someone call 911.”

  Emma was already on it. She rushed over to the man’s side, and as soon as the dispatcher picked up the line, she yelled, “Connie! Tell my dad and get an ambulance over to Main Street Café right away. Someone’s collapsed and is struggling to breathe.”

  Chris, the man who had attacked the band leader, stood over him, yelling once more. “Good! I hope you die.”

  Stacy stood among the girls in the crowd, her eyes wide.

  Emma snapped her phone closed and approached the girl, blocking her view of the man on the ground. “Stacy. It’s me, Emma.”

  Stacy barely pulled her gaze from the man to meet eyes with her. Then she frowned. “What’s going on, Emma? Is Kellum going to be okay?”

  Emma pushed Molly’s leash into Stacy’s hand. “My dad is on the way. Here. Hold Molly for me while I see what I can do to help. Okay?

  After blinking a couple times, Stacy nodded. Emma nodded back and then turned to the band member sitting on the ground. “Kellum, right? Help is on the way. Tell me what you’re feeling.”

  “I can’t... I can’t breathe.” The man’s face had gone pale and his eyes wide. His breaths came in short gasps.

  “Were you hurt somewhere? Are you allergic to anything?”

  “Peanuts.” He nodded, as if suddenly understanding. “My back stings.”

  He barely kept his eyes open for Emma to check for changes in his pupil
s. She moved to his backside and examined the back of his green shirt. She found a small hole in the fabric, right under his shoulder blade. Sirens wailed in the distance. Emma swallowed and grabbed the bottom hem of Kellum’s shirt. “I’m going to lift this, so I can see your back. Okay?”

  Between short breaths, he nodded.

  Emma lifted the shirt and revealed Kellum’s bent over back. She examined it and found the smallest red dot just between two ribs. Puncture wound.

  The ambulance pulled up.

  The guitarist stood over Kellum and glared at the café manager. “We told you to keep peanut products out of the dining area if we were going to play here. Did you do it?”

  The manager put up his hands defensively. “Of course, I did.”

  “He’s not choking,” Emma said, standing and taking Molly’s leash from Stacy. “I’m not sure this has anything to do with peanuts.”

  Colby Davidson and Emma’s father, Sheriff Wright, pulled in front of the café. Both began to ask the crowd to step back. Emma’s heart leapt at seeing them, but at the same time her stomach sank.

  Emma pulled Stacy closer. “Your mother sent me to pick you up. Your aunt has been in a small accident and needed her.”

  Stacy blinked. “Aunt Sarah?”

  Emma nodded. “She’s fine. Just a broken arm. Don’t worry.”

  The teenager’s eyes remained wide, and she blinked several times as though trying to understand the situation and everything that was going on.

  Colby’s gaze met Emma’s. His brow furrowed. “You’re here?”

  She shrugged, offering him a shy smile in greeting. “The band came out of the café, and the members were speaking to the crowd. The man over there with the manager is Chris. He started a fight with the victim and pushed him. Then the victim complained about not being able to breathe. There’s a small puncture wound just below the victim’s left shoulder blade. Not much bigger than a bee sting.”