Beaches, Blogging, and Bodies Read online

  Beaches, Blogging, and Bodies

  A Craft Circle Cozy Mystery

  Stacey Alabaster

  Fairfield Publishing

  Contents

  Copyright

  Message to Readers

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Epilogue

  Thank You!

  Copyright © 2017 Fairfield Publishing

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. Except for review quotes, this book may not be reproduced, in whole or in part, without the written consent of the author.

  This story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual people, places, or events is purely coincidental.

  Thank you so much for buying my book. I am excited to share my stories with you and hope that you are just as thrilled to read them.

  If you would like to know about all my new releases and have the opportunity to get free books, make sure you sign up for our Cozy Mystery Newsletter.

  FairfieldPublishing.com/cozy-newsletter

  Chapter 1

  There is power in the perfect name. I just needed to come up with one. “What about Crafts About Anything?” I suggested to my dog Jasper, a border collie who was lying by my feet. His ears pricked up a little, but on the whole, he seemed unimpressed. “Well, I will keep working on that,” I said. At least I had the perfect photo for my new blog. I’d just had my portrait taken by a professional photographer and it was worth every dime for the way she had captured my blonde curly locks without making them look too wild, and even managed to make me look a few years younger than my 41. I leaned back and admired the photo, the only thing I had so far on my website, as my assistant manager Brenda trudged through the door, already holding a pair of knitting needles. Has she been walking down the street and knitting at the same time?

  “What have you got there?” she asked, her nose already in the air as she peered down at the screen. I was using the work computer that I kept at the front of my craft shop.

  Hmm, this question was not at all surprising to me. Brenda was a rather old-fashioned woman, to put it mildly. She was only a year or so older than me, but you wouldn’t be blamed for assuming she was a decade or two older in style and manner. I smiled a little smugly. “It’s called a blog, Brenda. Not that you would have any idea what that is.” Brenda still got all her news from the weekly newspaper. That was more her speed.

  She smiled a little smugly. “Oh, is that so, Georgina? And what are you planning to do with that, then?” She had her knitting needles clipping together wildly while she stared at me and my project. She knew how to knit blind, of course. She never dropped a stitch.

  I actually had quite a few plans for the new blog. I wanted to attract new customers to the store and I wanted to establish myself as a local expert on all things crafting. Plus, it would be amazing to flex my creative muscles. I’d always considered myself to have a good wit and I knew that would come across in my writing, attracting fans. And of course making a fortune would be nice. But in the meantime, I just wanted to get the word out about the craft store. If I could show that I was an expert, then people would be more likely to trust me and come in.

  “It’s to help us make more money,” I explained, figuring that was the simplest way to explain it to Brenda. “I write a post every few days, each time showcasing an item we sell in the store, and write about how it can be used to improve the reader’s crafting. After time, the readers come to…”

  Brenda interrupted me. “Yes, I know what a blog is and the benefits of having one. I write one. It’s very popular, actually. I have hundreds of regular daily readers.”

  Excuse me?

  “You? You have… Oh.”

  I was rendered perfectly speechless. You could have knocked me over with a knitting needle right then.

  “Yes, I do,” Brenda said. “I’m surprised you’re not a reader yourself. It’s well known by the online crafting community. Especially the local one. There are quite a few of us around here.”

  I felt my cheeks flush a little. Maybe I wasn’t as much of an expert as I thought. And it stung a little to be schooled by Brenda.

  She said the address while she clicked her needles together behind me. “It’s called Never Drop a Stitch,” she told me.

  Of course it was.

  The site was all in shades of yellow and blue, and it kind of hurt my eyes to read, especially with the small font.

  “You can see from the comments that I have many readers.”

  I leaned forward. “But this isn’t a crafting blog, Brenda… This is a personal blog about you!” Sure, there were some crafting posts, but it seemed more like a place for her to vent her personal opinions about social issues and politics. Not what I was planning to do, at all.

  “Well, I do have other interests besides crafting you know!” she exclaimed, throwing her needles onto the counter and storming off in a huff.

  Yes, evidently so.

  Before she pulled the door shut with a loud bang, she had one more thing to say to me. “And good luck getting as many loyal readers as I have, Georgina!”

  Well, great, now that I offended her, I was on my own, staring at a screen full of blank white space and forms and coding that I had no idea what to do with. I didn’t know the first thing about creating a post, let alone how to get other people to read it. I sighed and picked up the phone. Ryan was a little younger. He would know what to do.

  “I’m just taking a break now if you want to grab lunch. Meet me by the station in five?”

  Usually, getting anywhere in five minutes would be a huge issue for me, but on that day, I had wheels. I’d borrowed my ex-husband’s truck so that I could pick up some bulk bags of dog food on the drive home. “See you soon!”

  The police station was only a few blocks away from my shop so I didn’t expect to be pulled over at any point during the very short journey. There were lights flashing behind me and the beep of a police siren.

  “What the…”

  I checked the truck’s speedometer. I was going ten under the speed limit. I pulled over and waited with apprehension. What had I done wrong?

  I didn’t recognize the face of the man who climbed out of the police car and I thought I knew everyone at the very small Pottsville Police Department. He was tall and stern looking with slicked back hair.

  Maybe he just wants to say hello. Introduce himself to the locals.

  “I’m Georgina. But everyone just calls me George,” I said as I rolled down the window, hoping to make a new friend out of the man. I tried to keep on the good side of the Pottsville Police Department; it tended to come in handy.

  But he gave me no smile in return. He was wearing a slick suit and there was a stony expression plastered on his face; it was obvious he had no intention of letting the mask crack.

  “Do you have a name?” I asked him, still smiling. Surely he had to have at least that.

  He very briefly flashed me a badge. I barely managed to grab the name. Anthony Nicholas. Detective, of course.

  “This truck doesn’t appear to have passed a safety inspection.”

  I straightened up in my seat. “It may appear that way, but I can assure it, its had all the necessary checks. All the paper work is in order.”

  “Can I take a look at that paperwork? The back bumper of this truck is practically hanging off.”

  “It’s not my truck,” I had to admit. “I’m not sure where the paperwork is.”

  He crossed his arm
s and stared at me. “You’ve got three days then to get the vehicle inspected, or it will need to be taken off the road.”

  I nodded grimly and said I understood. Then I flashed him my best smile.

  “If you don’t mind me asking, how long have you been in town?”

  It seemed as though he did mind. He didn’t even look up from the notepad where he was scribbling down my details. “I’m new. And that is really none of your business, ma’am.”

  I arrived at the station all flustered after the interaction, and pretty sure that Adam, my ex-husband, had not had the safety inspection done on the truck in years. I was just going to have to avoid Detective Nicholas for the foreseeable future.

  Ryan was waiting in the front of the station when I hurried over to him. I greeted him with a hug and noticed he didn’t look particularly happy that day. His own dark hair was not slicked back, it was kind of wild, like he hadn’t even had a chance to look in the mirror that day.

  “I’m so sorry I was late. I was pulled over. Some guy in a slick suit and a rotten attitude. Like he was better than everyone else.”

  Ryan nodded glumly. “New guy. He arrived last week. Has a real attitude. But he’s the boss now, apparently. So I’ve just got to get used to it.”

  The boss? Oh, great.

  I straightened up as a car pulled into the parking lot. When I saw who it was, I felt like I was a child cutting classes and had just been caught by the school principal.

  Detective Nicholas eyed us as he pulled up into a parking spot and stalked out of the car. “This is a station, not a social meeting spot.”

  Geez, what was up with this guy?

  Ryan shook his head and rolled his eyes a little. “I’m sorry, looks like I can’t make lunch today. I’ll catch you later, George.”

  A week later, I was staring at the stat counter of my blog in disbelief. Crafts About Anything had just gotten its thousandth visit—of the day. I shook my head, grinning. I knew I had what it took to make a success of my blog! Readers had been drawn in by my irreverent tone and humorous take on crafting topics. I had even made a new online friend. Her name was Agatha, and her crafting blog, named Sew Anyway, was one of the most famous blogs around. She lived a few hours away on the coast, which made me deathly jealous of course, but she was lovely, so I didn’t mind. We were messaging each other tips and exchanging life stories. Agatha had already linked to my blog and my readership had quadrupled over night.

  “Take a look at this,” I said to Brenda as she walked in. I tapped on the screen, showing her my stat counter.

  “Is that just you refreshing the page over and over again?” Brenda asked with her nose in the air.

  I poked my tongue out at her. “Nope. These are all real, bona fide readers, Brenda! I’ve become a blogging sensation!”

  But after a few days, things quieted down a little. I was getting fewer visitors and none at all from Sew Anyway.

  It was a little strange. Agatha hadn’t updated her blog in a couple of days, and wasn’t replying to any of my emails. I figured she was just taking a break.

  But her online presence had gone dead.

  Chapter 2

  “Did you get that truck looked at by the repair shop?” I asked Adam as he walked through the door. I was sprawled out on the sofa. Adam hadn’t actually lived with me in over fifteen years, but I supposed I had something of an open-door policy. He was dropping Jasper off after taking him to the lake.

  Adam mumbled a, “I told you, I’ll get it checked this week,” and shoved his hands in his pockets.

  I sighed and shook my head. Yeah, sure. But I had bigger things to worry about. I was refreshing Sew Anything and checking my emails.

  It had now been a week since there had been any sight or sound of Agatha. Not a single update to her blog, or any social media. She had not sent me a single message or email, and at one point, we had been communicating hourly.

  “I am starting to get worried,” I said to Adam as I sat up on the sofa, my feet curled up under me and Jasper snuggling into me. I was furiously refreshing the screen on my tablet, like that would make a difference. “Agatha has gone completely AWOL.”

  Adam walked over to the counter and cracked open a bottle of red. “Is it really that big of a deal?”

  “Yes. She always updated daily.”

  Adam sat a glass of wine down on the coffee table in front of me. “Why are you talking like that about her, like she’s the past tense?”

  I set my tablet down and grabbed my glass.

  “Because. I am worried something has happened to her.”

  Adam sighed. “You hardly know the woman, George. In fact, you don’t even know her! You’ve never met her!”

  “Online friendships count just as must as real life friendships, Adam. If something happened to me, if I just went quiet like this, I would hope that my friends in the online crafting community would help me out.”

  He wasn’t buying it. Wasn’t taking my concerns seriously. But how could he blame me for thinking that some terrible fate had struck Agatha?

  I made a decision. “Adam. I need to borrow your truck for a few days. I’m going on a road trip. And I am taking Jasper with me.”

  I waved Casper good-bye as I dropped her off at Brenda’s and backed out of the driveway. Casper was a small terrier that I adopted soon after Jasper, but she was really too small to come along for the trip. She was in very good hands with Brenda. Brenda might have been a pill, but she would take good care of Casper. Before Casper had come to live with me, she had belonged to Brenda’s best friend, so they were familiar with each other and got along.

  Jasper, who was a much larger dog with far more abandonment issues, was not going to miss out on the trip, however. He was piled on the passenger seat beside me, just about bursting with excitement. I had to tell him to settle down a few times so that he would sit and not go sliding around the whole cabin of the truck.

  Part of me was kind of thrilled, I had to admit. Since I’d arrived in Pottsville eight months earlier, I had only once ventured more than a few miles outside the perimeter of the town. I know, kind of crazy, right? But I think it was just me trying to keep myself safe, and in check. See, I’d always been a traveler, always flittered from one town to the next, one country to the next. So I think staying in one place—I mean, REALLY staying in one place—was a reaction to that. I’d over compensated, fearing that if I spread my wings too wide, I might just simply fly away.

  This road trip had been brewing inside me for weeks and now that I was out on the open road, I pressed my foot down on the gas just a little too hard. At least Detective Nicholas wasn’t behind me, waiting to pull me over for the slightest infraction. I had to admit, I was glad to be leaving him behind in Pottsville for a few days as well.

  There were some people I’d miss, of course. And then there were a few relationships that could benefit from a nice healthy break.

  Jasper had his head out the window the entire time. He was excited; his head lolling around as he struggled to take in all the new things at once. He didn’t know where we were going, but he could tell it was somewhere thrilling, someplace he would enjoy. Sandy Point. Dogs seemed to have a sixth sense for these sort of things, and especially Jasper, who was smarter than most.

  Sandy Point sparkled like a jewel up ahead of us, the ocean coming into view over the cliff. It was a perfect, sunny day. For a moment, I could even forget that the thing that had brought me to Sandy Point was a little more onerous than a simple beach vacation. But I could pretend, for a minute or two, while the truck sputtered away. It had survived the three-hour journey well enough. Maybe Adam was right. Maybe the safety inspections really were a waste of time and money.

  We passed a sign that said the population was 506. Wow. This really was a small town.

  I felt a tingle of excitement when I caught the first scent of the salty ocean air. I kept having to remind myself that I was not in Sandy Point for a vacation. That I was there to find out what had ha
ppened to Agatha. I had walked in on my fair share of dead bodies before, so I braced myself as I wound the truck into the town.

  Most of the town—the shops and cafes—were located on the cliff top that looked over the ocean. But I knew that Agatha lived right on the beach. I didn’t have the exact address, but I knew from all the info and photos she had made public, that it was the only cottage on the lower shore, so it couldn’t be that difficult to locate. Perhaps it wasn’t wise to make that public, but these days, everyone seemed to be doing it, didn’t they?

  The cottage was white, small, and perfectly innocent looking. With the coffee cups littered on the table on the front porch, it even still looked lived-in. But looks could be deceiving.

  I tiptoed gingerly up the front steps, bracing myself for what I might find on the other side of the door. I knocked a few times, not expecting any sound or response.

  But there were footsteps. Jasper looked up at me and eagerly wagged his tail. He thought he was about to make a good friend.

  But what if it's not Agatha on the other side of the door? I placed a hand on Jasper’s back and took a step back as the door flung open.

  It was Agatha, alive and breathing. She was a couple of years younger than me, with long loose blonde curls and a long flowing blue dress.

  She stared at me heavily for a few seconds, blinking. “George?” she finally asked, and I was a little shocked to hear that she spoke with an English accent. Well, that was one of the things that shocked me in that moment. “No way!?”

  I was as shocked to see her as she was to see me. After a few seconds I pulled myself together and let out a short laugh. “In person!” I said, as she leapt over to give me a hug.