Moonlight, Murder, and Small Town Secrets Read online

  Moonlight, Murder, and Small-Town Secrets

  A Katy Cross Mystery Book One

  K.C. Hart

  Contents

  Moonlight, Murder, and Small-Town Secrets

  Book Blurb

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Coming Soon

  40. Chapter One

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Moonlight, Murder, and Small-Town Secrets

  A Katy Cross Mystery

  Book One

  K.C. HART

  Copyright © 2020 K.C. Hart

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Created with Vellum

  Book Blurb

  Katy Cross is more than Skeeterville’s favorite home health nurse. She’s also lead guitarist for her band, The Moonlighters, a wife to her goofball husband, and a friend to Skeeterville’s colorful elderly community.

  When The Moonlighters land their biggest gig yet at the annual Peanut Patch Festival, Katy can’t wait to cover her favorite songs on stage for her friends and family. However, things hit a sour note when she stumbles across a body during a mic check. The open-and-shut case strikes a wrong chord with Katy, and she is worried that an innocent man is being framed, leaving the real killer to roam free. Can she solve the murder before anyone else is forced to join the heavenly choir?

  This debut cozy series from K.C. Hart follows amateur sleuth Katy Cross as she solves crimes in her small southern town with the help of her husband, her elderly patients, the vocal locals of Skeeterville, and, of course, her band mates, The Moonlighters.

  Dedication

  This book is dedicated to my mom and dad

  who believed that small-town country life was the best life.

  Love you Mom. Love you Dad.

  Wish you were here.

  Chapter One

  Katy rushed home from her last patient’s house to change from her nursing uniform into a pair of jeans and the Peanut Patch t-shirt that all the members of her band, The Moonlighters, were wearing to the festival. After a glance at her reflection in the mirror, she grabbed her guitar and a folder with the songs for tonight’s performance. She jogged back to her car to drive the short distance to the festival grounds on the outskirts of town.

  The Moonlighters had opened for The Wildcats last night and would again tonight. This was the biggest event Katy’s cover band had ever played, and she loved it. True, most of the people were only half listening as they walked around eating boiled peanuts, drinking cokes, and looking at the vendor booths, but that didn’t matter. Katy and her friends were on the stage playing to an audience who, for the most part, were not close family members which was a step up. No, while they were on that stage, they weren’t a home health nurse, a florist, a phlebotomist, a college student, and a single mom. When Katy was playing lead guitar and her best friend Misty was rocking a drum solo, they got to imagine they were musical stars like Alison Kraus or even Dolly or Emmylou. Not that they were fighting aspirations of greatness but being in the spotlight doing something you loved right here in Skeeterville did feel good.

  Katy turned on the air conditioner full blast and began running over the setlist in her head. The Moonlighter’s music was a sharp contrast to The Wildcats. The Wildcats were old country-rock with fast tempos and great drums. They made you want to put down your cup of peanuts and grab a dance partner. Even though she didn’t care too much for their lead singer, Jessa Williams, Katy had to admit that their band knew how to perform and put on a good show. The Moonlighter’s bluegrass and gospel music made you want to pull up a lawn chair and sing along. Mixing the two kinds of music had worked out well. Last night’s crowd did a lot of smiling and lingered around until midnight when the lights were finally turned out.

  The car knocked and bumped along the rough, homemade road that cut through the hayfield. Only a handful of people showed up this early, so she would be able to park much closer than she had last night. Todd—Skeeterville’s youngest deputy sheriff, as well as Katy’s favorite nephew—was already parked in the usual place upfront reserved for security. He wouldn’t mind helping her make sure all the equipment was set up on the flatbed trailer which served as the stage.

  Katy pulled into a spot beside Jessa Williams’ Mustang and stepped onto the trampled grass. She bet Jessa wasn’t here yet. She had probably just left her car last night and rode home with someone else. Katy heard Marissa Holmes, another member of The Wildcats, complaining that Jessa acted like a diva. All she ever did was show up and sing. Katy could definitely believe it. One thing she loved about her band was that everyone got along well. That did not seem to be the case with The Wildcats.

  Katy lugged her guitar from the back seat of her car and slammed the door. She turned just in time to catch a sliver of movement disappear on the other side of Jessa’s Mustang. Suddenly a head popped up again at the back of the car near the trunk. That’s strange, she thought.

  “Uh, hello, can I help you?” Katy glanced back over her shoulder to make sure Todd was nearby in case there was trouble. Skeeterville was a safe town, but purses still had a way of disappearing out of back seats at festivals and fairs.

  “Hey, Mrs. Katy.” Laney Finch, the wife of the high school football coach, jolted upright like a rubber band had popped her in the backside. “I didn’t see you over there.” Her face flushed bright red with either surprise or guilt, Katy wasn’t sure which. “I just dropped my purse and was trying to gather all my stuff back up. Don’t pay me any mind.”

  “Sorry I surprised you, Laney. For a minute there I thought someone was breaking into that car.”

  “No problem.” Laney stretched a taut smile onto her face and made a point of looking under the edge of the car one more time. “I think I’ve found everything. I better be going.” She dug around in her monstrous designer handbag. “Mom has my kids and is waiting for me to get home.”

  “Good seeing you,” Katy said as she turned and made her way toward the stage, guitar in tow. She would have bet a bag of peanuts that Laney had been trying to sneak off without being seen. And why in the world would she leave the festival before it even began? It sure seemed like the woman was up to som
ething.

  Katy smiled as the sound of whistling drew nearer from the food vendors section. Todd’s sandy brown head and lanky frame appeared from that direction just as she reached the edge of the stage, lips still puckered from his slightly off-key tune. A much-needed breeze brought the smell of freshly boiled peanuts and fried turkey legs along with her nephew. She laid a hand across her stomach to smother the growling.

  “I’m happy to report that all the food booths are secure and ready to start serving the crowds,” Todd said as he made his way across the grassy field towards Katy.

  “It’s nice you to be looking out for our hard-working vendors.” Katy held her hand up to her forehead to shield out the setting sun. “I love this festival, but I’ve got to be careful this year.”

  “Why, did something happen last year?” Todd asked, concern in his voice. I didn’t hear about any trouble, but if I need to check up on somebody I can.”

  “I’m the only one you need to check up on,” Katy laughed. “I’ve got to be careful and only eat one bag of boiled peanuts tonight. Last year I ate too much fair food and made myself sick as a dog. It was so bad I missed church that week. It would be awful if I got too sick to perform.”

  “You’re on your own with that one,” Todd said, patting his flat stomach. “I ain’t coming between any woman and her boiled peanuts. Momma raised me better than that.” He turned back from the food vendors and glanced around the stage. “Can I help you set anything up? I can’t believe Uncle John isn’t here to help you.”

  “You know he’d be here if he could. He’s in Missouri on business. Besides, I can handle this.” She climbed up the rickety wooden stairs at one end of the stage then leaned over and hoisted up her guitar. The six-string acoustic wasn’t terribly heavy, but Katy stifled a groan as she pulled it up. “But if you have time and don’t mind, I guess I could use a little help. It looks like some of the others have already been here.”

  “Show off,” Katy grinned, as she watched Todd hop over the hay bales and onto the stage, completely skipping the stairs. “I could do that too if I was still in my twenties and six foot tall.”

  “Yeah,” Todd said, flexing his lanky bicep, “I have extra energy from that fried Oreo I sampled a while ago.” He looked around at the mics and wires. “Mike and Misty were setting up stuff when I got here. You must've just missed them. They said they were going home to put on their nut shirts and were coming right back.” He eyed Misty’s drum set. “What can I do? Drum solo while you tune-up?”

  “Maybe later,” Katy said, “but you can help me make sure everything has power.”

  “No problem, and you know I work for peanuts.”

  “Wow, so original Todd. You should write a song or a book or something,” Katy said, laughing sarcastically as she began flipping on switches and checking power cords and connections. “Let’s see, for some reason this amp isn’t getting power. I’ve checked these connections up here. Would you mind making sure everything’s plugged in at the shed?”

  “Sure thing.” Todd hopped off the stage and trotted over to the shed.

  She wasn’t sure what it was used for the rest of the year, but during the Peanut Patch Festival, the flatbed trailer was backed up to a metal shed where extension cords could reach the electrical outlets to power the show. If it started to rain the equipment could quickly be moved indoors. That happened a few years ago. It only rained for about thirty minutes but for the rest of the afternoon, the bands played in the shed’s garage door opening.

  Luckily, The Moonlighters didn’t perform that year. You could see the heat devils rising off the garage floor while The Bluegrass Babes were playing. Mrs. Ella Johnson, the Babe’s seventy-year-old fiddle player, had to go to the emergency room at the end of their set to be treated for heat exhaustion. Her children wouldn’t let her play the festival anymore. It was a shame. Katy enjoyed watching the women. They were all in their seventies, had matching silver beehives and wore red silk shirts with enough fringe and sequins to impress a group of Elvis impersonators.

  “Everything seems to be okay here Aunt Katy.” Todd wiggled all the cords that were plugged into the outlets. “Maybe it’s in one of the connections. I’ll check them while I’m down here.”

  He followed the wires from the shed to the base of the flatbed. They disappeared under the bales of hay then reappeared in the crack between the base of the trailer and the top of the hay bale where they were duct-taped to the metal trailer frame to hold them secure. Todd began checking each cord while Katy continued to check the equipment.

  “Here’s the problem,” Todd called, “this one’s not taped to the frame and the connection has slipped loose.” He reached down to pull more of the power cord from under the hay bale. “Oops… dropped it,” he said. The cord slivered between the crack of the hay bale and trailer and disappeared underneath. He shoved his arm down and tried to blindly fish it back out from the hay. “That’s not working,” he said, pulling his arm back out of the crack.

  “Just pull the bale out and pick up the cord,” Katy instructed. “There’s some extra duct-tape in the shed. You can re-tape it. Then we won’t have to worry about it coming undone again during the show.”

  “Sure thing, boss lady,” Todd said, grinning as he pulled out the bale of hay. He moved the hay bale then squatted down to retrieve the cord but bounced right back up. He glanced at Katy then went right back down. The image of prairie dogs coming in and out of burrows flashed through her mind. Todd popped up again, this time his brows were pulled together in a frown.

  “What is it, a snake? There’s a hoe in the shed. I’ll fetch it real quick.” The wooden stairs swayed as she bolted down to get the hoe.

  “Uh, wait, Aunt Katy, it’s not a snake.” Todd’s voice was strained. “Just give me a second to think.” He got down on all fours and crawled half-way under the trailer.

  Katy shifted her head from side to side trying to see through the three-foot section where the bale of hay had been. She quickly gave up and dropped to her knees, crawling into the dark and narrow space beside her nephew. What had caught his attention so quickly? She sure hoped it wasn’t a rat. She could handle snakes, but man she hated rats. Those long, hairless tales just made her skin crawl.

  Todd pulled out his flashlight from a loop on his belt and flashed a beam through the pitch black, crowded space.

  “Good gravy and biscuits!” Katy’s voice climbed several decibels as her pupils focused on the figure in the dark opening. “That’s Jessa Williams.”

  Jessa lay on her back with her arms flailed to either side. Her blond hair was scattered across her face in a way that made Katy want to rake it out of her eyes. She shuddered as her eyes adjusted to the dim light. Jessa’s eyes were stretched wide open, fixed, and staring at the bottom of the dirty trailer that was covered in spider webs hovering couple of feet from her face. The woman still had on the leopard-print mini-skirt, thigh-high black leather boots and black silk shirt she had performed in the night before. Katy leaned in closer and placed her finger on the side of Jessa’s neck, trying to find a pulse.

  “Todd, she’s dead.”

  Chapter Two

  “Yeah, I know,’ Todd said. “Don’t touch her. I have to call it in.” He backed out from under the trailer and pulled out his phone.

  Oops, too late. Maybe just touching her neck didn’t hurt anything, Katy thought. A little more sun was shining in now that Todd had moved out of the opening. She looked around the cramped, damp area where the woman lay. Once Todd called the station, he would probably run her off so he could do his job.

  It seemed so undignified to see Jessa lying there under the flatbed. Katy had seen a lot of people die in her line of work, but that was always in the hospital or either with dignity in their own homes with their loved ones around them. This was different. No one deserved to die like this.

  Katy’s eyes roamed carefully over the body of the young woman, assessing her from top to bottom just like she would one of her patien
ts. She tucked her hands close to her side so she wouldn’t be tempted to touch her again. A large, dark sticky-looking spot under Jessa’s head was probably blood. Her blue eye shadow looked cyanotic against the death pale that had settled on her skin, but there was nothing unexpected on her face, like swelling or bruising. Katy leaned in a little closer to look at the small scratch at Jessa’s collar bone where the button-up shirt flared open a bit and revealed cleavage. Jessa had seemed to love attention related to her looks, and she certainly had the looks to get the attention.

  Katy hurriedly finished her assessment. Todd would be off the phone any minute and shoo her away. Jessa’s shirt was still tucked in at the front, but from what she could see without flipping her over, it appeared to be untucked and wadded up in the back. It almost looked like someone had picked her up from a lying position and moved her here.

  Jessa’s fake corral colored nails looked just as beautiful on her long fingers as they always did. Katy couldn’t wear the fake ones because the policy at her job didn’t allow it. She couldn’t play half of her guitar chords when she wore them either. This was probably why she always noticed every other woman’s nails and why she suffered from chronic nail envy.