Jess Lourey - October Fest

About the Author

Jess Lourey spent her formative years in Paynesville, Minnesota, a small town not unlike the Murder-by-Month series Battle Lake. She teaches English and sociology full time at a two-year college. When not raising her wonderful kids, teaching, or writing, you can find her gardening and navigating the niceties and meanities of small-town life. She is a member of Mystery Writers of America, Sisters in Crime, the Loft, and Lake Superior Writers.

October Fest: A Murder-by-Month Mystery 2011 by Jess Lourey.

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First e-book edition 2011

E-book ISBN: 9780738729169

Book design and format by Donna Burch

Cover design by Ellen Lawson

Cover illustration Carl Mazer

Editing by Connie Hill

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To Terri Bischoff, without whom this book
would never have been written.

Back it up. What?

This morning. A dead man found at the new motel.

I didnt want to give away my recent proximity to the corpse so played it cool. Thats horrible! But how do you know it wasnt suicide?

She eyed me suspiciously for a second, but was distracted when the tent flap opened and a strapping farmboy in tights and shortpants, a feathered cap perched on his head, stepped out to calm his pre-polka nerves with a cigarette. Unlikely, she said, reapplying her lip gloss. The body was found in a second-floor room, bag over his head to make it look like suicide, but he wasnt blue. The coroner said the lips of a person who dies of suffocation are always blue. And probably their fingernails. But this guy was as white as a sheet. His best guess is that someone killed the man by smashing his head in and then bagged it like a cantaloupe.

A chill crept out from my stomach and trickled down to my fingers and toes. Studying the death scene in my minds eye, I knew she was right. Bob Webber, whiter than cream, the skin on the side of his forehead soft-looking, like a rug draped over a hole. I tried to play back other details to see if Id missed anything, but Id been too blurry-eyed from a lousy nights sleep and too certain it was a suicide to scope out the room. Suspects? I asked.

Too early to know for sure, but everyone who was in the motel is being questioned.

Her words induced an ice bath that made my skin dimple. Had Johnny put my name on the room? Probably a lot of out-of-towners staying there for the festival.

Probably. Swydecker and Glokkmann were there for sure. She said Glokkmanns name with a perverse sneer, and I wondered if the two of them had a past. They must be close in age, I judged, and had grown up in the same neck of the woods. But so far we know that Glokkmann and at least one of her people dont have an alibi for last night.

I let out a deep breath. Better Glokkmann than me. Shouldnt you be there right now, being as youre the Chief of Police?

She clapped her hands and her face lit up. I left as soon as I realized what a tremendous business opportunity this would be. The tanning/speed dating idea initially started percolating when I got my first spray tan last night in Elbie Johanssens basement. I thought, why couldnt I do this? Then, when I heard the murder announced over the police scanner this morning, I thought, new people in town! And who doesnt want to be romanced when theyre feeling all tan and sexy? The plan came together like peanut butter and jelly. I pulled on this outfit and headed directly to the motel.

That meant she hadnt bought the speedy catsuit specifically for her business. It had already been hanging in her closet. I found myself wondering what the heck she had on deck. And you managed to get your picture taken in your speedsuit by many swarming reporters?

If were lucky.

Arent you concerned about finding the killer?

She returned her full attentions to me, her eyes glittering, mouth in a sharp smile. Ill leave that up to our new police deputy, a Mr. Gary Wohnt.

With the mention of his name, my skinned knees began smarting. Wohnt is back. It didnt come out as a question.

Gary had been Kennies biggest fan and rumored lover when Id first met him, following her everywhere like a solemn puppy dog. That all changed when he met another woman in August and skipped town with the deeply religious hussy. I was willing to bet there was a story there, and I didnt want to hear it. I just wanted to stay as far from Wohnt as possible. Hed been the lead man on more than one of the murder investigations Id had the ill fortune to get tangled up in. To say he and I werent friends would be like saying that oil didnt mind vinegar so much. And he really was back in town, although apparently demoted.

My head was full.

You dont look so good. Worse than usual, I mean. You need an aspirin or something?

I hung my head in my hands. I need to take some pictures, get through my library shift, and then marry my bed.

Kennie clucked. Whatever. Say, a little Bahama Brown would brighten you right up. Ive got the sprayer in my car. Sure you dont want a couple spritzes?

Im sure.

Dont say I didnt offer. Ill see you Tuesday night. Ta ta!

She swirled off, leaving me to contemplate the big picture. Here were the facts: short of simultaneously walking into a wall and pooping my pants, there was not much left in my Johnny Leeson humiliation repository. I had stumbled across a murdered body this morning, but only three people knew that, and of that three, the only two who knew my name were equally as invested in not being identified with the crime scene. Although it was certainly tragic the blogger had been murdered, it was none of my business. Gary Wohnt was back, and he excelled at making me miserable, which was another whole reason for remaining uninvested in the murder investigation. I added up the facts again and came to the same blessed conclusion: avoid Johnny and Gary, and life was golden.

Life in order, I held my nose and stepped into the tent to snap photos of knock-kneed men twirling women in tulle. The music under the big top was so loud it knocked out any other thoughts, leaving only a low-level repulsion as the odors of sauerkraut and sweat mingled on the dance floor.

The goal of the Bavarian Boogie-thon was to be the last dancer standing, no breaks given. However, not wanting to cut into tonights continuation of drinking and dancing for all, the sponsors of the dance-off had wisely added spoilers. The first was a release of piglets onto the stage, which couldnt have sounded good even on paper. When that didnt stop anyone from boogying, a quick break was called to strap ankle-weights to the contestants. That picked off the outliers, leaving six core couples who appeared prepared to polka their way through the Apocalypse. I cut out just as another intermission was announced to tie one leg of each couple together, followed by a mandatory round of Jgermeister shots. I left confident that todays event would be the briefest dance-off in history.