Sneak Peak of my Mystery Novel: Someday I'll finish and you can read the whole thing!!

I began a novel during National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) last November. It's the first book of a cozy mystery series, and my goal is to have it available on Amazon sometime this Spring. In order to make myself keep writing, I need a bit of harassment, so I'm asking you all to hold me accountable.  Here is the first chapter of the novel. Enjoy!...

Chapter 1 (of the Annie Zimmerman Mystery Series)

I sat at the foot of my late Aunt Edna’s wrought iron bed with the remnants of my beef and broccoli, chewing on my plastic fork, and beating a rhythm on the bed frame. I didn’t know what to do with myself. I had decided to treat myself earlier and had called up Wok With Me, a local Chinese delivery place to order takeout. The delivery boy was the first person I had seen all day and I may have scared him a bit with my mindless chatter. I’m pretty sure he thought I was hitting on him. Could have been because I asked him if he wanted to come in…

I remember standing at the doorway with my hair yanked up on the top of my head in an unflattering bun, wearing a sweatshirt with the neckline torn out…very eighties-throw-back style…and Hello Kitty slippers. (Don’t judge me. They were a present from my well-meaning mother... I swear.) I was feeling a bit sleepy from the Benedryl I had taken earlier to help curb the sneezing from all of the dust I had kicked up in the packing process, and I think I may have said “Hey, you want some?” while holding up the take-out bag, which would have been fine, but my eyes were watering and I’m pretty sure he thought I was winking at him. I could see the discomfort in his face, which of course, made me uncomfortable, always a dangerous emotion for my communication abilities. I tried to back-track. “No, I was just looking for company…” This was not better. The tearing got worse and not I probably looked as if I were crying. I tried again. “It’s just that I’m new in town,” I stammered as he fled to his beat-up delivery car. It was embarrassing, and I couldn’t help but hope that he was to uncomfortable to share this story with anyone in town.



I tried to shake off my humiliation. I attempted to entertain myself by flipping on the little television in Edna’s room and zoning out, but Edna didn’t have cable. All I got was static.

It had been past eight by the time I had thrown in the towel for the day. I had spent the last week planning Edna’s funeral and dealing with lawyers, and banks, and credit card companies. I spent hours in Edna’s little blue study separating important documents from old catalogues and letters. The letters, I packed up and moved the top of small closet in the hallway for safe keeping. Her clothes were all boxed up and in my car to be taken to the Goodwill. The newspaper articles were all that I had left to go through, and I just hadn’t the energy left.

I had been surprised when my mother had called me two weeks ago to tell me that Edna had passed away and that she had made me executor of her will. I probably shouldn’t have been surprised, though, as my mother was Edna’s only living relative in the area, and although sweet, my mother was not exactly the reliable sort. She was a bit flighty. I was never quite sure how she had gotten to be a successful real estate agent.

I had been living in D.C. since college and hadn’t seen Edna since the end of my senior year of high school. She was never really the friendly, affectionate sort, and, to be honest, I found her to be a bit intimidating, but she had always seemed to have a soft spot for me, and her support after my divorce three years ago got me through a really tough time.

Now, after all the past weeks’ stresses, it was quiet in Edna’s house, comfortable, as if Edna were still present in the handmade quilts and the paintings hung in old wooden frames. Edna had left me her small, craftsman style house on Cherry Street in East Aurora. It was odd to think that, without much thought, I had packed up my life and moved to East Aurora. Three weeks ago, I would have been surfing the internet while watching Bones and snacking on popcorn in my cozy (a.k.a. super-tiny) flat, and making mental lists of the emails I had to send out the next day and the phone calls I had to make. I had worked for a local credit union for the past five years, and now I had just up and left. I hadn’t even given my two weeks’ notice…very unlike me.



Sitting on Edna’s bed, I realized there was nothing left for me to do…and I had no plan. No plan, no job, no friends. Heck, I didn’t even have a local bank. It was fine. I could handle it.

I bolted upright in a moment of panic and moved the cardboard food container to the bedside table, my stomach tight and churning. I was getting light-headed. I stood up and began pacing the small room. The act of dropping out of life was not something I was known to do. I had always been a reliable and level-headed decision maker. But Edna was giving me an escape when she left me her life, here in East Aurora. I couldn’t pass it up, right? But I had no idea what would come next.

I tried positive self talk: Annie, this is fine. You are fine. The house is paid off. Edna left a little savings. You have a car, and you’re a hard worker. You’ll be fine.

The self talk did not work.

I felt the beginning of a panic attack starting to really set in. I jogged in place for a few moments, trying to shake of the adrenaline rush, pumping my arms and raising my knees as high as I could, and dodging back and forth. This usually took the edge off. I giggled to myself as I realized how ridiculous I must have looked. Once I had calmed enough to think clearly, I decided to take a nice bath and soak away the worries.

I pulled the lace curtains in the master bath, filled Edna’s claw foot tub with bath salts and hot water, and lit the scattered votives on the heavy window sill. I brought Edna’s little CD player into the bathroom, and placed in on the toilet tank, turning on a CD called “Soothing Soak,” and eased into the tub. I tried to clear my mind and take deep breaths. The soft piano music did its trick. The scents of vanilla and lavender spread through the bathroom, and I could feel my shoulders begin to relax. I was half-way to oblivion when I heard a thumping noise that sounded as if it were coming from downstairs. I froze for a moment, waiting. I heard a creak or two that sounded like they were coming from the walls. I waited at attention for a few beats. A few clicks followed, and then the sound of forced air through old pipes. It was just the furnace. Old houses were always shifting and settling. This is something I’d have to get used to. Just as I began to relax again, I heard an unmistakable creak on the loose floorboard at the bathroom door. Someone was in the house.

Heart pounding, I leapt without thinking, grabbing for the wooden bath brush on the little chair next to the tub to defend myself from what must be an intruder. But I slipped on the bottom of the tub, tripping over the high wall and awkwardly ending up sprawled and naked in a puddle on the tile floor, with a crazy-looking old lady standing over the top of me, her felted fishing hat perched atop course white hair, a giant striped wrap engulfing her upper body until she was nothing but a face, all crepe skin and tiny eyes. But the eyes glinted like a child’s.

“Annie, dear, I’ve never seen someone so pale,” she said mildly, her gray eyes raking my entire body, “or skinny.” At this her mouth twisted a bit as if she were contemplating what my skinniness said about me. I had no idea who this woman was, or how she knew my name. I pulled the bath rug over me and stood up, pointing the brush at her with my other hand. “Oh my, I’ve scared you. I’m so sorry!” She handed me my towel and said “I’m Matilda,” as if that explained everything.

I’m pretty sure I sputtered something intelligent at this point. I think it sounded something like, “uhg huh?”

She pointed out the bedroom window.

“Edna’s neighbor.”

As the adrenaline wore off, the connection finally sunk in. Many of the newspaper clippings Edna had sent had Matilda’s name somewhere in them, noting her commentary, or admiring some interesting function she had organized. This crazy nut was Tilly. Edna’s stories about her best friend and partner in crime began to rush back to me. Tilly was like my aunt’s alter-ego. Energy seemed to emanate from her, as if she were permanently static charged. “I’ll go make some tea,” she said. “Why don’t you wrap up before that skinny body catches its death?” And she was gone.

I took a moment to collect myself, twisting a towel around my damp hair, pulling on some old sweat pants and a cowl neck fleece top. I wrapped the rose printed bathrobe from the hook on the bathroom door around myself for an extra barrier of protection and slowly padded downstairs to the kitchen. Tilly had placed two mugs on the table along with a tea-pot and a crocheted tea cozy, ready to be filled. She reached into the back pocket of her linen colored pants and handed me another envelope. It had my name scrolled across it in Edna’s writing.

“Edna told me to wait until everything was finished before I gave this to you,” Tilly said. I sat on the counter stool and ripped the envelope open. Inside were a letter and a gift card to the Roycroft for an art class. Apparently, Edna was continuing the random mail tradition, even in death.



Annie,


You know that I am not all about that emotional, mushy garbage. Thank you for your help. I asked Tilly to give you this letter after all of the other nonsense was taken care of, so you wouldn’t have to think about it. You are the only family member I can stand, so I left you my house on Spring Street and my savings and investments, for whatever they‘re worth (my lawyer has all of the official papers) with this sound advice…Get a damned life.


I’ve kept out of it, but Jeff is an idiot, and you know it. Get over it already. Stop living like you haven’t a strong bone in your body. You’re a Zimmerman for Christ’s sake! Get out of DC, that place is killing you. Stop working in that depressing bank and live your life will you? East Aurora may not be your cup of tea, but give it enough time to figure out what you want.


I’m leaving you a gift card to take a class at the Roycroft. I know you loved your art and it’s been years since you even talked about it. Get dirty and do something with your hands. Go see Molly at the gift shop and she’ll tell you when the classes are.


And watch out for Tilly. She’s a feisty one and needs to be kept on a short leash. Don’t get sucked into her crazy. Someone needs to be a voice of reason, and it’s no longer me.






Love and all of that crap,


Edna



I couldn’t help but smirk at Edna’s letter. She definitely had a certain way with words. How did she always know what I was doing?! It creeped me out. I thought about my life in DC. I was had been treading water there. I hated my job at the Credit Union, and was barely making enough money to pay rent. After Jeff and I had split up, I was just going through the motions, trying not to think too much about where my life had taken me. This is just what I needed…a change of venue. I decided then and there to follow Edna’s advice. And I vowed to call about art classes the very next day.

“What’s it say?” asked Tilly.

“Well, apparently I’m getting a life,” I replied.