B T Lord [Lord - Murder by Misadventure

Copyright Bety Comerford (B.T. Lord)

All rights reserved.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the authors imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

No part of this book may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author.

ISBN-13: 978-1543284027

ISBN-10: 1543284027

Cover art by Michelle Motuzas

Cover design by Alison Ouellette

Other books by B.T. Lord:

Murder on Ice (Book 1 of the Twin Ponds Mystery Series)

To SPW

Teacher, Mentor, Friend

PROLOGUE

February

First this ingredient. Then another. Hmmm. Not too much of this and a pinch of that. Everything had to be right. It was vital that everything be just right.

Next came the book. Things had to be done in their proper order. It was carefully opened and a puff of air that spoke of death and decay filled the kitchen. The book was old. Its pages bore witness to the generations it had been in existence, the handwriting faded in places and almost illegible. But the power it contained was still potent.

Still deadly.

A finger ran down the various words some easy to pronounce, others difficult. But it didnt matter.

Laughter filled the room as a harmless rhyme was recited.

Double double toil and trouble.

Fire burn and caldron bubble.

I will say what needs to be.

What is your life worth to me?

In a tiny, one room cabin, tucked in the woods on the shore of Mkazawi Pond, Paul Langevin abruptly awoke from a sound sleep. It had been another busy day and hed gone to bed early, falling asleep almost immediately.

He now stared at the ceiling, orienting himself, a brief question in his mind.

What had awakened him?

The air was chilly. Glancing over at the small Franklin stove across from his bed, he saw a collection of dying embers glowing through the glass front. He was reluctant to get up from beneath his warm blankets, his body heat creating a cozy spot. But something tugged at him urging him to arise pushing him towards his back door.

Paul was a bearish man, standing tall and straight despite his 70 years. However, as much as he tried not to admit it, age was starting to catch up to him. In the past, he could have easily sprung from his bed. But now, aches and pains in his joints and back accompanied him as he threw back the heavy covers that were a collection of patched over quilts accumulated over the years. Slowly and painfully, he hoisted himself to his feet and shivered as he stretched out the kinks in his muscles before padding over to the coat rack he kept near the front door. He threw on his boots and long wooly coat, then turned, took a few steps across the small cabin and opened the back door.

A blast of frigid night air hit him hard as it careened across the pond and seemed to aim itself right at him.

Im getting too old for this , he thought, at the same time knowing he wouldnt ignore the inner voice that drove him to venture out of his warm bed and into the icy night.

He stepped out onto a small wooden deck and took a long, deep breath. Opening his senses, he felt rather than observed the wild life around his cabin. In the tree behind his home, he felt the heartbeat of an owl. Near the pile of logs he kept in a tiny shed next to the cabin, he felt the pulse of a fox. He looked up at the sky, never tiring, despite his age, to be awed by the brilliant canopy of stars and constellations that blinked back at him.

He let out his breath, its vapor dancing before him. He looked out over the frozen pond, the light from the perfectly round, full moon painting shadows of the tall pines onto the thick layers of ice.

He waited. Patiently. With no thoughts of past or future. Soaking up the energies of the moment.

After a while, he shrugged. Maybe he was getting too old. Maybe it was a simple dream that had awakened him. Nothing more.

With his snug, cozy bed calling out to him, he started to turn back towards the door. A strong gust of wind suddenly blew across the pond. This time, it deliberately threw itself against his face and chest. He involuntarily took a step back, momentarily stunned at the ferocity of the air. Hed felt the wind many times over the years, but this was different. There was fear in this wind. With the fear came a warning. He scanned the horizon, reaching out slowly and tentatively with his senses. Burrowing into dark cubby holes, beneath the snows, beneath the leaves covered by thick blankets of white, around the trees and up into their black finger-like limbs.

Abruptly, a knowing exploded into his conscious mind. He sucked in his breath.

This is not good.

Horror shot through him a dread he had not felt in years. It gurgled up from the pit of his stomach and washed over him, sending violent tremors throughout his body that had nothing to do with the chilly temperatures.

With a cry, he stepped back into the cabin and slammed the door behind him. He leaned against the wood, trying to catch his ragged breath. He closed his eyes, not wanting to acknowledge what was out there. He attempted to veer his mind away, fill it with a list of things he had to do in the morning. He chanted a song under his breath. But through it all, the knowing would not go away. It seized him and held on, unwilling to relinquish its hold on his mind and his soul.

This is definitely not good.

Emmy Madachuck was beginning to lose feeling in her toes. She wiggled her feet in her boots, but it was no use. She was going to have to make a move, or risk freezing to death in the front seat of her Jeep. What a ridiculous sight that would be. Frozen within a few feet of a warm house.

She glanced out the window towards the bright lights that beckoned. A light snow was beginning to fall, but then, at this time of year in this remote town in Maines northwestern corner, it was always snowing. And consistently cold, with below zero temperatures. It wasnt unusual to freeze to death if someone wasnt careful.

Emmy, however, was one of those people who were overly careful in everything she did. Freezing to death a few yards from warmth was not of those situations she would ever fall victim to.

However, it didnt preclude Twin Ponds police receptionist/dispatcher from considering the real possibility of turning around and driving home. She could pretend she was sick. Or pretend shed taken a nap and overslept. She could pretend a host of things to keep her from getting out of her vehicle. But theyd know. Whether it was by her guilty look she just wasnt any good at lying no matter how hard she tried or by an innocuous gesture, theyd know.

They always knew.

She couldnt face that.

What was once fun and entertaining and informative now filled her with doubt. If only she hadnt done what shed done, she could continue coming here. She could continue belonging. But ever since the other day, the doubt monster had started to rear its ugly head. The weird part was that she was getting what she wanted. Only now, she didnt want it anymore. Not this way.

Youre being a complete idiot. Even if its not really real, you can still enjoy it. And why not? Im not hurting anyone, am I?

Was she though? She didnt know anymore. If she was another sort of person, she wouldnt care. But she did. A lot. Which made the guilt that much more corrosive.

She hated when she got this way. If nothing else, she should be awed that after what shed done, the changes had been almost miraculous. She couldnt believe it at first. Even after pinching herself a dozen times, it had happened. So just be cool with it, and forget the guilt and doubt. It was all going to go away soon anyway. No one would ever know.