Grumpy Bumpkin
Country Cousins Mysteries Book 11
I wasn’t looking forward to going with my PI boyfriend to the rustic cabin in the woods of a crotchety local recluse who believed someone wanted him dead. I definitely wasn’t prepared for what happened next.
Deb Taylor isn’t what you’d call a normal kind of guy. Maybe it’s the fact that he bears an eerie resemblance to the elusive mythological sasquatch. Or perhaps it’s the fact that he’s a six-and-a-half-foot-tall, hairy and muscular guy named Deb. It’s possible our new client had a premonition that someone was going to fatally pierce him with the sharp end of a shovel. It’s also very likely he’s lying.
But when he hires Hal to find a stalker who seems to wish him ill, it’s his grumpiness that makes me think he might have a point. Anybody as crotchety as Deb Taylor couldn’t help but make enemies. Lots of them. However, given his size and strength, I thought it was unlikely he’d be an easy guy to damage.
I’ll admit to being wrong on this one.
Really. Really wrong.
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" I really like this series! The characters are always entertaining and fun. Joey and Hal’s pets add so much uniqueness, cuteness and humor. It’s always nice to revisit Bumpkinville and find out what new adventures Joey, Hal, Caphy and the rest of the gang are getting into. I’m already looking forward to the next one!"
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EXCERPT
“I hope you’re not here to give me another Sasquatch sighting. I’m up to my ears in the things. People have lost their dang minds.”
He held the door until Hal grabbed it and then turned to precede us down the hall to his office. “When I catch the jokester who’s running this scam, I’m going to put him in a cell for two months for making my life miserable.”
“Scam?” Hal asked, arching a brow.
Arno dropped into his desk chair with a sigh. “Of course. You don’t believe there’s really a Sasquatch in the woods?” He flicked me a glance. “Do you?”
“Actually, we believe our client might be the Sasquatch,” I said.
Arno snorted. “If he is, no wonder he’s afraid someone is trying to kill him.” He leaned back, crossing his hands behind his golden head, and looked at my boyfriend. “So why are you two here?” His expression turned hopeful. “Please tell me you know who’s pushing this Bigfoot scam.”
“Sorry,” Hal said. “We just wanted to verify what Bobo Biddens told us about his brush with Deb Taylor.”
Arno stared at us with a gobsmacked look. “You think Bobo is plotting to kill Taylor?”
“Taylor does,” Hal said. He didn’t comment further.
“That’s crazy,” Arno responded.
“See,” I told Hal.
He gave me a flat look. “He’s also got us looking at Sarah Hastings. Any chance she has a long-hidden record of stalking and murder?”
Arno snorted out a laugh, a reaction that the dour cop rarely had in the course of his business day. “Sarah’s most heinous crime is that she puts raisins in her oatmeal cookies.”
“Right?” I laughed, bumping fists with Arno.
“Actually,” Hal said, his lips twitching up at the corners. “You’ve hit on the exact problem.”
“No.” Arno’s mouth dropped open. “Please tell me this is not about cookies.”
Hal nodded. “She apparently put almond flour in the batch she brought to the community outreach event. Taylor happens to be nut sensitive.”
“You can just leave the sensitive part off that statement and you’d be right.”
I lifted my fist toward the cop again and earned myself a glare from Hal. My fist dropped like a rock. Trying to look apologetic, I said, “Come on, Arno. Work with us here.”
He sighed. “Sarah Hastings is a stellar member of the community. She makes cookies and pies for every fund raiser, is on the altar guild at the Lutheran church, and teaches Sunday school every other Sunday. She’s about as close to a saint as Deer Hollow has.”
Hal nodded and stood. “Thanks. You verified what we thought.”
“Who else does Taylor have on his suspect list?”
Hal’s forest green eyes sparkled. “You can’t guess?”
Arno sat back and tapped his chin with a finger as if thinking. “Little Kitty Quintz? I heard she took over her brother’s paper route. Maybe she threw Taylor’s paper too hard. Or Ted Loo? He drives an Uber and I hear he has a tendency to take that pothole on Main Street hard enough to pop your dentures. Surely he’s got it out for Deb Taylor.”
I giggled despite my boyfriend’s glare.
“Yuk it up, Willager. I’m going to go out and organize a Sasquatch flash mob for next Saturday night.”
Arno paled. “That’s not funny, Amity.”
Hal put a warm hand in the small of my back and ushered me toward the door. As we left, Arno yelled down the hall after us. “I mean it, Hal. No flash mobs.”
