Cook’s Cove Mystery - Book 1
Jenny Carrington’s eccentric aunt’s death was no accident.
While the police search for the killer, Jenny leaves her career, family, lifestyle, and fiancé to fulfill her promise to live in the one-hundred-old house.
Sample
The sun had disappeared on the horizon without color. A steady drizzle fell as Jenny drove through town, past old brick buildings and small businesses that occupied many of the old homes along the road. When she arrived at Aunt Susan’s, she parked on the street out front.
Sitting in the car, Jenny gazed through the rain-spattered windshield, a bittersweet mixture of grief and nostalgia washed over her. Could it really have been ten long years since she last set foot in that house? Grabbing her luggage from the trunk, the path to the house felt familiar beneath her feet. She trudged up the stairs to the covered porch, where two weather-beaten wicker chairs sat next to an old tin tub filled with wilted pansies. Her heart swelled, sending a whirlwind of emotions swirling within her. This was a place that held secrets, dreams, and moments she cherished. She turned back toward the street and her gaze fixed on the hand-painted sign, The Treasure Chest, its message a reminder of the wonders that awaited her inside. The house held treasures, yes, but also the ghosts of the past. She knew that this reunion would unravel layers of emotion, unmasking the shadows that had lingered in her heart for far too long.
Letting out her breath, she put the key in the lock. The door swung open, and a little bell jingled. The musty smell of old fabric, dried roses, and beeswax furniture polish instantly brought back memories of the summers she had spent there.
She noticed right away the grandfather clock on the wall facing her had quit running. Jenny checked her watch, went over, opened the glass, moved the hands to the correct time, and twisted the key. It always felt like time stood still in this house.
Scattered around Susan’s magical house were objects from the past; upholstered furniture with tucks and folds, lamps with shades that resembled ladies’ hats, and tabletops filled with knickknacks, linens, and old kitchen utensils. Jenny’s footsteps echoed across the hardwood floor. She was a child again, thrown back in time.
Aunt Susan’s voice called her from the next room: “Jenny, come see what I’ve found.” Susan was admiring an old brooch; a rainbow of colors sparkled when she held it up to the light.
“Do you think it’s magical?” Jenny’s impressionable, six-year-old voice asked.
“Oh, of course. Each stone contains a memory of its owner. Look here.” Susan pointed to the large stone in the middle. “This one is the surprise when she received it.” Then, pointing to the others, she said, “This one, the kisses from her husband. These are the tears of delight from her grandchildren.”
“Can it be magical for anyone else?”
“I bet it can capture the memories of whoever wears it.” She pinned the clunky brooch to the strap of Jenny’s pink overalls. “You can wear it as long as you like.”
Jenny wore that gaudy piece of jewelry every day during that summer while walking on the beach, catching baby crabs and flinging rocks that skipped across the water. She wore it while visiting Tess at her boat repair shop and while eating fish and chips on the dock. The brooch was removed only at night, where it sat inside a treasure box in her room.
After that year, she wore the brooch only on special occasions during her summer visit. Once she became a teenager, she was too old to believe in the stories her aunt told about the strange items collected and sold in her shop.
Jenny found the stairway. Dolls with lacy dresses and porcelain faces sat on the steps going up to the bedrooms above. Each step she took was a step into the past. She went to her old room and opened the door. The same patchwork quilt covered the spindle bed. Her old Raggedy Ann doll rested against a lace-covered pillow on a chair. Drawings of starfish, seals, and orca whales hung on the wall.
Tugging several times at the top drawer of the oak dresser until it opened, she reached in and brought out the box she had decoupaged with pictures of sailboats. Inside was the old brooch. The silver had tarnished; the stones were nothing more than colored glass. Her aunt was right, though. The brooch did capture memories. Good memories.
“Oh, Susan, I’m going to miss you so much.”
Her head throbbed from not wanting to feel like the child she once was. It was too painful. Susan made this house and everything in it an adventure, mysterious and enchanting. Now memories lingered frozen in things like the glass brooch. She closed the antique in its box and placed it back inside the drawer.
From her grocery bag, she retrieved a bottle of white wine, twisted its lid off, and took a swig of the sweet liquid. Throwing back her head, she drank another swallow and another, attempting to wash down her sorrow. Then she slipped off her clothes and crawled into bed. She was tired.
Jenny’s eyes snapped open in the darkness, her senses instantly alert. An unfamiliar sound had penetrated her sleep. Confusion clouded her mind for a moment, unsure of her surroundings. But as her eyes adjusted to the dimness, she realized she was in her room at Susan’s house.
She strained her ears, hearing the eerie sound echoing once more. Jenny rose from her bed and scanned the room. The noise persisted, growing louder, originating from the hallway. Heart racing, she stood at her doorway, eyes wide and her sleep banished by a surge of adrenaline. The source of the commotion was Susan’s room.
Pushing the door open, a shiver traveled down Jenny’s spine, as if an icy breath grazed her skin. A chilling presence hung heavy in the air, unsettling her to the core. Something rattled against the wall, a pearl necklace swaying from a hook beside Susan’s bed. It wasn’t just the wind this time; there was an unmistakable force at play. But before Jenny could gather her wits, the door slammed shut behind her, causing her to jump. The wind, she reasoned, her nerves were on edge. As she listened intently, a voice, barely above a whisper, said, “Jenny.”
She tried to convince herself that it was the wind. Stepping forward, she mustered the courage to close the open window and secure the latch. Yet, when her hand grasped the doorknob, a frigid chill jolted through her, chilling her to the bone. A strange presence enveloped her, prickling her skin, and Jenny couldn’t shake the feeling that she was not alone.
Taking a deep breath, she attempted to steady herself. Should she be afraid? If the ghostly whisper belonged to Susan, then there should be nothing to fear. Jenny clutched the doorknob tightly, summoning her resolve, and she swiftly retreated to her own room. There she buried herself under the covers. To calm herself, she tried to think of the times when she slept in this room as a child. It was a safe place. “Nothing bad is going to happen,” she repeated over and over.
As she shut her eyes, she heard Susan’s voice singing a familiar lullaby.
Hush, little baby, don’t say a word. Mama’s gonna buy you a mockingbird…
