The Rose Bandit
The Oncoming Storm #5
Genre- Cozy Mystery/Detective
Published By- Staccato Publishing
Publication Date- February 14th, 2016
A series of burglaries have struck the sleepy town of West Falls. Seven homes have been burglarized, with only a single red rose left at each crime scene. The townspeople have dubbed this cat burglar the Rose Bandit. And Dan Landis, private investigator, has been hired to catch the thief.
Haunted by the ghost of his dead partner and an empty bank account, Dan jumps at the opportunity. But, when a body turns up at the Rose Bandit’s latest crime scene, Dan suspects there is more going on. He faces a dilemma: Catch the thief and make a quick buck, or prove that the Rose Bandit isn’t a killer.
Excerpt-
Dan turned right, hooking it toward
West Falls’ other florist, the one that also sold tuxedos. Ingram’s Florists.
Next to the hardware store.
“Can’t miss it, she said,” he
laughed as he rounded the corner. The building was canary yellow, surrounded by
tombstones, and was the only open business within a block. It stood proudly on
a hill, shining like a beacon in the night. He slowed down as he approached,
feeling the urge to make a visit to the hardware store. It was amazing what
kind of trouble you could get into with household supplies. He parked, the car
easing in beautifully, like it belonged there. “I may be falling in love…with
this car.”
“You two make a cute couple.” Maggie
blew smoke in his face.
“Wonder if this place had a recent
influx of rose purchases?”
“Maybe. Since you don’t think the
Rose Bandit isn’t the murderer, it’s possible we’re looking for someone who
purchased a single flower.”
“Oh come on. No one would be that
stupid.”
“You want to take that bet?”
“Not for all the tea in china.”
He made sure not to slam the door.
When your car was a loaner from Santa Claus, it was important to take extra
special care. And keep the gas tank full. The bell rang when he opened the
door. The place was deserted.
“Hello?” Dan called into the ether.
“Be right with you, hon,” said a
voice dripping in the sweetest of teas.
He took a moment to appreciate the
beautiful variety of tombstones available.
“Headstones, Lackey,” Maggie said.
It was always creepy when she read his mind like that. Spooky when she was
alive, nerve-wracking now that she was gone. “They call them headstones in the
funeral business. And speaking of such, how come I never got a proper funeral.”
“We had a wake,” D said to no one in
particular. “Plus, I scattered your remains at sea, just like you wanted.” And,
he didn’t add, the wind caught the ashes and sprayed them in his face. Just
like she wanted.
“Still could have had a proper funeral.”
Maggie pointed out.
“Well, if we could have found enough
sober mourners, I would have.” Dan fired back.
“We have a proud tradition of
talking to ourselves here in West Falls,” the steely voice cut to Dan’s very
bones. The wake of cigarette smoke left no doubt to the identity, though the
person in question raised new and interesting doubts.
“A habit of the old: they choose the
wisest person present to speak to…” he added proper pathos to his voice.
“Hello, Ursula.”
“All that is gold does not glitter, not
all those who wander are lost; the old that is strong does not wither, deep
roots are not reached by the frost.” She blew smoke into his face.
He coughed. “You like Tolkien, eh?”
“I’ve had exposure a time or two.”
He looked around, taking the place
in. “If I’m being honest, I think I like Fancy Plants a bit better. Just has
more style.”
“I don’t recall you stepping foot
into my shop.” Dan could have gone ice skating on Ursula’s icy voice. Maybe he
was starting to grow on her.
“Like a fungus,” Maggie piped in
helpfully.
“It’s true I haven’t had the
pleasure yet,” he layered on the charm. “But, I saw it from across a crowded
room. It’s nice. Good brickwork, cool colors, catchy name. I like it. Ingram’s
Florist is a bit more impersonal.”
“Auntie Ursula!” The owner of the
voice followed shortly thereafter. She was three and a half feet with raven
hair, a perfect and natural tan, and an astonishingly chipper attitude. She was
wearing the same color of clothing as the front of Ingram’s paintjob. It made
her look a bit like a squash. Squash with a perm.
“Hello, Martha,” Ursula replied, in
what could liberally be called a cheerful tone of voice. At least it was nicer
than how she spoke to Dan. “Martha, allow me to introduce you to the new man in
town, Dan Landis.” The tone cooled, “Dan, this is Martha. She’s my cousin.”
“She’ll always be Auntie Ursula to
me.” Martha turned to Dan, appraising him. He debated opening his mouth for
teeth inspection. “I heard you were a private investigator. Something about
insurance and the like?”
“That’s the short version.”
Maggie smacked him in the back of
his head. It was unnervingly painful.
“I was hired by Heartland to track
down the Rose Bandit, put a stop to the robberies. And you know, I really like
this small town atmosphere.” He could almost hear Maggie’s eyes rolling. “Your
little shop is amazing.”
“That’s very big of you,” Martha
smiled. “I like him, Auntie Ursula. He’s got spunk.”
“Quite,” Ursula blew out a long
drag.
Dan grinned. “I’ve always had a
special place in my heart for florists; you bring happiness and joy to people,
through good times and bad, you’re always there.”
“I appreciate the sentiment, but
despite the sign, I really don’t deal with a lot of floral arrangements. A few
pieces here and there. My biscuits are buttered with grave markers, suit
rentals, and balloons.”
“I could never stand balloons.”
Ursula’s cigarette flared, red light highlighting her sharp features. The smoke
billowing from her nose added to the terrifying aura. “I will always be
grateful to Martha for taking care of such things.”
“Now, Dan…” Martha gave him an
appraising look. “I believe you have a suit awaiting you.”
“I do?” Dan asked.
“Oh yes,” Martha had a diabolical
twinkle in her eye. “A certain police officer called in your measurements
yesterday.”
Maggie grinned. “I knew she had you
measured up from the moment you two met.”
“You’re really serious about this
Governor’s thing, huh?” Dan shook his head.
“It’s the biggest event of the
social season,” Martha said.
“For adults anyway,” Ursula
observed. “I personally think it might be a bit overrated.”
“Oh, Auntie Ursula, you know you
love it,” Martha giggled. “Come on, Dan, I’ll show you to our dressing room.”
Dan wondered if being dressed in a
tuxedo by a dwarf while the ghost of his dead partner watched was the most
surreal situation he’d ever been in. If not, it was certainly close.
“On the plus side, I make this look
good,” he told the ghost in question.
“Alright pretty boy, let’s not
inflate our oversized ego,” Maggie responded.
He stepped out of the dressing room,
glanced from Martha to Ursula, and smiled. “What do you think? Wait, don’t tell
me…” He reached into his pocket, pulling out his emergency sunglasses. He’d
stashed them in his tux jacket’s pocket for just this moment. He slipped them
on, adopted the stony model expression, and went full smolder. “What do you
think?”
“You look like a jackass,” Ursula
observed.
Martha giggled. “I think you look
perfect. You’ll be the belle of the ball. All that’s missing is a mask.”
“Mask?” That threw him for a loop.
“This is a masquerade ball?”
“Absolutely. West Falls has a rich
and proud tradition of masquerades.”
“Well,” the smile broke free on its
own, “This should be fun.”
About the Author-
Jay Mims, better known as Mimsey, lives two miles past nowhere with The Mimsus. He also accidentally adopted his neighbor’s cat, Eartha Kitty, has a lizard named Bob hiding in his house, and has a passive-aggressive Dalek roommate named Steve. When not writing cozy mysteries, Jay teaches and is learning knitting. Jay is currently working on knitting a cape. Capes are cool.
Social Media Links-
</
0 comments:
Post a Comment