Birthdays Are Murder (A Spindrift Cove Mystery Book 1) by Cindy Sample

Author:Cindy Sample [Sample, Cindy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-02-06T23:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

My cell rang shortly after sunrise the next morning. I reached for it, expecting the callers to be my parents.

“Is this Sierra Sullivan?” asked an unfamiliar female. I was about to click off when she continued, “This is Anabel Tucker.”

“Oh, um, hi,” I said, not at my most coherent this early in the day.

“When we met up yesterday, you mentioned you would be available to assist us this week. We have a stack of mailers to go out and could use the help.”

Ugh. Not exactly the way I wanted to start my week, but my caffeine-deprived brain couldn’t think of a good excuse to get out of it.

I glanced at the clock. “I’ll be there by nine.”

She thanked me and hung up.

I entered Charles Tucker’s campaign office at nine on the dot. My outfit was conservative: navy slacks topped by a blue sleeveless top and matching thigh-length cardigan. I hoped it looked appropriate for a politician’s headquarters.

Anabel greeted me with a relieved smile and a two-foot-high stack of pamphlets.

“These need to be stuffed in envelopes and labeled for community distribution,” she said.

“Got it,” I replied, flashing a cooperative smile.

By the time I reached the IKEA knockoff desk Anabel had assigned to me, my smile had disappeared. This project could take all day. The only compensating factor was that I might pick up useful intel. Mel had seemed intrigued by what I’d learned at the memorial luncheon even though she refused to follow through on any of my leads until her suspension ended.

I, on the other hand, had no goals other than to get my daughter back on the police force. If it required unpaid volunteer work to investigate one of my top suspects, so be it.

An hour later, Charles Tucker arrived at the office.

“Hey, you made it. Shoot, forgot your name. Elsa, was it?” he asked, his heavy brows bunched together.

“Sierra,” I replied. “My parents named me after the Sierras.”

When he continued to look confused, I elaborated. “You know, the Sierra Nevada mountain range?”

“Your folks named you after a mountain? Usually it’s the other way around. You know like Mt. Rainier was named after an admiral. ‘Course you’re from California. That state has some bonafide crazy folks. No offense.”

I merely smiled, refusing to let this poor excuse for a politician get to me. He shuffled into his office and closed the door. Five minutes later, Anabel joined him.

After folding and stuffing pamphlets for what felt like hours, I glanced at my watch. Only a few minutes past ten. The monotony of my task made my eyelids droop. Envelope stuffing for a politician was the perfect remedy for an insomniac.

Anabel and her father had been closeted in his office since shortly after his arrival. When the door opened, it startled me from my stuffing stupor.

“We have to leave for a meeting. Can you hold down the fort?” she asked. Her gaze drifted to the pile of pamphlets. “You look like you have enough work to keep you busy while we’re out.

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