Shooting at the Shore: A Cozy Christian Mystery (Dangerous Curves Book 3) by K.L. Montgomery

Author:K.L. Montgomery [Montgomery, K.L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Mountains Wanted Publishing
Published: 2021-06-09T22:00:00+00:00

Eleven

I was still mulling over what Pastor Bethany said about Mrs. Monroe when I was walking to my car after work. I’d wanted to ask Liz about the Pro Journal account, and if there was any way to recover a deleted file, but I’d gotten sidetracked when Knox came in. Then, when I came back to the YA area, Liz had gotten busy showing Evangeline the prototype for the new library website. I’d have to ask her about it tomorrow, but in the meantime, I decided to go back to Mrs. Monroe’s house and see if there was anything I’d missed in my earlier walk-through.

I left my car in the library parking lot and walked down the sidewalk to Mrs. Monroe’s stately three-story Victorian home. The police tape had been taken down, and now the house sat empty. I didn’t believe in ghosts, but I did feel a strange presence on the property as I walked up the stairs and down the path to the front porch.

This time the door was ajar. That seemed suspicious, and I probably shouldn’t have just waltzed on in, but my curiosity got the better of me.

I started for the stairs to finish my exploration of the second floor, which I didn’t complete during my prior investigation because of her children being there, and heard a voice calling out, “Hello?”

I nearly jumped out of my skin. I knew I felt a presence!

Footsteps sounded on the creaking wood floor, and then a figure stood in the entryway between the foyer and the library. My eyes darted over and swept from head to toe as recognition lit up in my mind. “Hi…”

“Can I help you with something?” came an annoyed voice.

“I’m Sunshine Baker,” I introduced myself. “You’re—”

“You spoke at the funeral,” the woman said, running her fingers through her perfectly coiffed brown hair. It looked freshly dyed and professionally styled, like she’d just come from a photo shoot.

“I did. And you’re Mrs. Monroe’s daughter, aren’t you?”

“Matilda Monroe, nice to meet you.” She extended a slim, elegant arm, and I shook her hand, which felt small and delicate in mine. “What are you doing here?”

“I, uh…” I scrambled for a guise or cover story of some sort—I hadn’t gotten any better at coming up with cover stories apparently. I decided to go with the truth. “I knew your mother well, and I’m just looking for some clues, to be honest. I’m a bit of an amateur sleuth—”

“You’re the one who figured out who stole the library donations, aren’t you?” Her eyes narrowed as they stabbed into me. It sounded more like an accusation than praise.

“Yes, yes, that was me. I was so glad to recover the funds because I’m a librarian. Your mother was our primary donor… She was a big supporter of the library.”

Matilda made what sounded like a harrumph and rolled her eyes, which matched her mother’s pale blue, almost gray ones. “At least she supported something…”

Hmm, that sounded…bitter. “Would you mind if I asked you

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