SLAY PAIRS WITH ROSE (The Kelly's Deli Cozy Murder Mysteries Book 3) by Sophie Brent (phonics reading books .txt) 📕

didn’t call us when the police arrived.” Prisha tutted as she picked up another blueberry and almond muffin and dropped the paper onto Erin’s kitchen table. “There hasn’t been so much excitement around here for ages.”

“You are going to have to excuse my friend.” Carol shook her head. “The youth of today have no respect for those who have had their only delivery van trashed by murderers or their henchmen in the middle of the night!”

Prisha ignored the glare Carol was giving her. “Have you heard from Fiona or the family yet? I suppose Zoe will have already picked up the news on the grapevine by now.”

“Zoe called ten minutes ago to ask if I was okay,” Erin said between sips of piping hot coffee. “But it’s still way too early for the family. If it makes any difference, I don’t think that Fiona or her mother are into slashing tyres and breaking windows. It’s not exactly their style, is it?”

“Hardly,” Carole nodded. “I knew Fiona at junior school, and she used to jump at the sound of her name. No girl can change that much. But what about evidence, clues, fingerprints, that sort of thing.”

Erin shook her head. “Constable Harris took all of the details and promised to investigate any suspicious activity in the area, but the chances of finding the culprit were very small.”

She counted out the reasons on the fingers of her left hand. “There were no security cameras in this part of town or neighbourhood watch schemes that operated overnight. Anyone could have slipped across the village green and disappeared into the night without being seen.”

“Fingerprints?” Prisha suggested with pursed lips.

“That would be a complete waste of time. Dozens of people have touched the handles on the van over the past few months. Think about it. I often offer lifts to people in the village if I see them on her way. Even more have helped me unload food deliveries at hotels restaurants and pubs all over Kingsmede.”

“No,” Erin sighed. “The really interesting thing was the note left on my seat. That was unique.”

She quickly pulled out her mobile and flicked to the photograph she had taken just before Constable Harris removed the note as evidence and passed the phone to Carol who gasped in horror.

“Erin. This is serious.”

“Told you,” Prisha shrugged. “Some complete nutter is out and about in Kingsmede, threatening people. I won’t tell my parents about this one.”

 “I sat at this table at some silly hour of the morning being questioned for ten minutes about what and who I have been investigating that would make me the target for something like this. And I had told him the truth. The only thing I have talking about these past few days is the death of Emma Wilson, which was an accident.”

“Did you tell him that this might be a good time to start doing his job and finding the killer? Did you?” Prisha was almost bouncing in her chair.

“No, lovely, I didn’t. But Constable Harris is not a fool. He knows that this changes the investigation into her death. Until then, there was nothing he could do other than to report it and offer to support me when I claimed on my car insurance for the repairs, which are going to be serious.”

“Oh no,” Carol answered. “Just when you’re saving every penny to invest in the new bistro! It’s rotten.”

Erin pushed herself to her feet and walked over to the kitchen window, well aware that the girls were watching her every step of the way.

The scary thing was that someone had dared to vandalize the van on a public street.  Her poor van.

It used to be her father’s delivery van and one of his most precious possessions. He had travelled all over Hampshire in that van and loved it so much that he had paid for repair after repair to keep it going. She had thought about replacing it over the years, but something stopped her from buying a smart new efficient and cost-effective model.

That van represented more than just a legacy of someone else’s work. It was a symbol of her father’s dedication and devotion to the job he loved.

Now someone linked to Emma Wilson’s death had decided to destroy it as a warning message and threatened her in the process.

That was totally unacceptable.

Positive action? She could take positive action.

Because Erin Kelly was having uncharitable and potentially lethal thoughts about what she was going to do to the person who had vandalised her dad’s delivery van.

It was amazing what two glasses of amaretto, followed by three hours of alcohol-and-trauma-induced sleep could do for her drive and decision-making abilities.

Erin had woken up with a clear head and one single, burning, crystal-clear, write-it-on-a-sky banner thought.

It would be a snowy day in the tropics before she would allow herself to be threatened, intimidated, in any other way dictated to by someone who thought that they had the right to tell her what to do.

A very cold day indeed.

She was not putting up with that treatment for one second. Why should she?

Turning away from the window, Erin stepped back towards her kitchen.

Carole put down her toast, and Prisha glanced from Carol back to Erin as she bit into her soft muffin.

“So, what’s the plan?” She looked over and saw Erin pull her notepad out of her bag. “Aha. A list. Might have known. You have been a busy little girl this morning. Come on, start from the top. What’s first?”

“You know me so well.” Erin picked up her pen and moved her plate so that the paper was directly in front of them, Carol with her elbows on the table and Prisha leaning in to take a closer look.

Erin inhaled deeply through her nose so that when she spoke it all blurted out