Cozy Mysteries
To
Beachify
By
Alaerton Alumni Mysteries:
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Reunion
Prologue
Cerby poured the hot coffee carefully into an oversized mug. Then she grabbed a manual ‘frother‘, absently pumping the mechanism up and down until the half-and-half cream inside was manifest with minute bubbles. She half poured, half spooned the whipped result on top of the deep roasted Columbian java, where it floated like a tropical mangrove island on a dark sea of finely ground beans. Running a toothpick through the milky cloud created a decadent design, an attractive visual to go with the enticing aroma.
Taking a sip, automatically her pink tongue licked off most of the clingy white mustache residue, flicking off the remaining traces with a well angled shot. Tentatively she picked up the envelope lying on the white marble topped kitchen island where she’d tossed it the day before. Mug in the other hand and an Oreo clasped between her teeth, she sock-footed it through the sunlit open plan main floor toward the living room area, plunking herself down on a rather pouffy sage coloured leather sofa. Immediately she was besieged by wet French kisses and paw-nches to the gut as Frankie and Cimba hurled themselves at her face and body for some petting attention.
“Off me, you little Furballs. WATCH the coffee! NOW! Oh, damn!”
She struggled up into a sitting position , fighting against the combined weight and momentum of the Rat Terrier and the Shih-Poo , laughing hilariously despite the confusion of bodies.
‘Okay, settle now. SETTLE down! That’s better. Geez, can’t grab a moment’s peace with you two around.’ (Not that she was complaining; they were without question the finest permanent roomies a girl could have--- Best Fiends Forever).
She managed to gain her feet , wiped herself off briskly, and fending off the ‘terrible two-some’ retreated to the fireside mantle on which she placed the offending mug, well out of reach of her energized pets. Her eyes drawn to the glittering, embossed lettering of her own name on the front of the envelope, she used both hands now to hold and rip open one end, not wanting to tear the part sporting a current British stamp. She'd give that to Marcie later to add to her collection.
She read the calligraphed invitation over twice and tapped it against her cheek, then absentmindedly chewed on the corner of it, eyes gazing out a large bay window to the multitude of Rose of Sharons just beginning to bloom in the backyard. Finally, looking down at the fine gilt edged stationary again, this time she read it out loud:
Miss Cerdwyn Llewelyn
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You are cordially invited to
Alaerton Equestrian Centre’s
25th Anniversary Celebrations
Commencement June 19th , 20__
(Please choose one of one/ two/ three-week packages)
Fun, Food, and Midsummer Fun Fête
In-house Accommodation provided on first come first served basis,
Alternative Reservations available at The St. George (in Huntingdon)
Please RSVP to Mrs. Rowena Hill
by June 1st
to
Alaerton Equestrian Centre
Alconbury Hill
Huntingdonshire PE28 0Z0
UK
Her eyes misted. It had been 10 years since she spent a year at the Alaerton School of Equitation. She was only 18 then, an angry teen who ‘d survived the sudden death of her parents the year before, but at great emotional cost. A lot had happened at that time and since, to shape and mature her into the woman she now was.
After returning home from Britain to take up the reins of her modest inheritance , she resumed a rather mundane life in Vermont. For the first year or so after her England sojourn, she'd kept up with her new British friends but 'life happens' and the correspondence grew mutually sporadic with time and distance, resulting in the usual downturns in relationships. Prompted now by the invitation, she wondered : What were they all doing these days and Could one pick up again where we all left off? It was a bit scary to contemplate a return to a past fraught with a certain level of pain and self-discovery… but ten years on?
Her lips pursed in a sour expression. It might just be a wise idea to put some distance between me and , well... this side of the pond—detox a relationship or two— one at least. If the Atlantic isn’t big enough to do that, what could?
Yes! Her eyes began to sparkle at the thought of a 10 day trip. It’s been a while after all, since
I've had any kind of vacation really. She looked down at the munchkins playing around her feet, and spoke aloud to them. "Hmm. We’re not going to like being separated, are WE, but I think our friend Marcie next door will step into that breach. You two (trying to convince them as well as herself), she’s stayed here overnight with you before and I bet Marcie wouldn’t mind at all actually moving in for a bit longer this time. Besides (reaching down to twiddle Frankie’s ears and give Cimba’s rump a fond tap), 'absence does make the heart grow fonder' eh? "
"Crikey!" The gaiety was suddenly cut short by the ominous realization : Blast, only got a couple of weeks to prepare. Better make some phone calls. Devil yn ei gymryd, dwi'n dod (Devil take it , here I come !) Why was it in times of crisis , the disembodied voice of her beloved father, in life a Professor of Celtic Arts and Language, so often materialized in unexpected ways.....
Dear Reader—if you’re interested in learning more about Cerby Llewelyn’s past and upcoming future events, see
Dec. 17, 2019 release date for e-book on Amazon/Kindle:
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https://www.amazon.ca/s?k=alerton+alumni+mysteries+reunion&ref=nb_sb_noss:
REUNION
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e-Book and Paperback edition available now on Amazon.ca
The Alaerton Alumni Mysteries
© by Charlotte Helion.
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Alaerton Alumni Mysteries:
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CELTIC KNOTS
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Prologue
Gall pechod mawr ddyfod trwy ddrws bychan
(A great sin can enter through a small door)
“Cerb? Cerby, are you here?”
The head of the young woman in question, cocked at the recognizable footsteps heading in the direction of the small den off the foyer of Rose Cottage, but it was the unfamiliar anxiety she detected in Aidan's voice that arrested her attention. Roughhousing on the 'pouffy', sage coloured leather sofa with her Jack Russell mix, Frankie, promptly ceased. “In here,” she responded, giving Aidan’s husky-lab Bliss a quick peck on her muzzle, as she rose to greet her lover. So as not to be left out however, Cimba the ShihPoo immediately stood on her back legs, planting her front paws possessively on Cerby's thighs, wanting her share of attention. Shaking her head in amusement, Cerby slowly fought her way through the melee, only to be stopped in mid-step, by Aidan’s expression as he walked hesitantly into the living area of Cerby's open plan home.
“Cerb,” his awkwardness evident in his forced address; “I’ve got something to tell you…“ He took in all of Cerby at a glance-- her healthy, athletic build; bright intelligent grey-blue eyes; mid-length curly mop of strawberry blonde hair; and prominent laugh lines, already in motion with the fuss of the dogs about her. He was about to break her heart. Aidan took a deep breath.
Cerby's abrupt halt had the pooches falling off her like fish scales. She focused all her attention on the stricken Aidan. This was the official visage of an RCMP officer bearing bad news. She had heard him go into the den/home office as usual when he first came in, taking out the safe box in the desk and locking his gun in it. He'd taken his time though, coming back to her.
“What Aid, what is it?” She tried to sound upbeat but felt the tight bonds of fear surround her heart as she surveyed his pained expression. Surely he wasn’t about to break up with her---they’d only been living together since July—3 months? Something of a record given past relationships, sure, but come on now….
Instead of answering directly, Aiden went purposefully through to the kitchen, quickly uncorked a bottle from the wine fridge, and forced a glass of Oriveto Classico on Cerby who had followed him there in a state of puzzlement.
“Aren’t you having your usual Chianti, Aid? What’s this all about? “She set the glass down on the marble topped kitchen island. Hitching up her high-waisted blue jeans, pulling down her long white Tee, Cerby eased on to a wooden stool, folding her hands around the glass, looking up at him expectantly.
Aidan had been leaning against the apron sink, but pursing his lips, determinedly took the stool beside her. He took one of her hands in his.
“Aid, has something come up? You're scaring me. Can’t you come to England with me---to the wedding?”
Aidan knew how much that trip meant to her: "No, not that Cerby. In fact, it’s a good thing we’re going." And a lot sooner than we thought. "Cerb..." his voice hung in the air a fraction of a second, "...it’s about your parents,” allowing that to sink in.
“What about my parents, Aid?” Cerby’s face creased quizzically. He knew only too well they’d been dead ten years---killed in a single-car crash one icey Vermont winter's night. “I don’t understand, Aid?”
Slowly, gently squeezing her hand, Aiden began to explain. “Cerb—I’ve heard from Jock.”
“Yes, of course,” Cerby said impatiently. “We’ll be seeing him in exactly ten days.” She knew Aidan had been in communication with his British counterpart, friend and Detective Inspector colleague, (correcting herself), recently promoted Superintendent. Jock Wallace, over the court case surrounding their previous June visit to UK-based Alaerton Equestrian Centre and the murder that took place there. She shivered slightly—someone walking over her grave. She and Aid had narrowly escaped a terrible fate themselves.
“Jock…This is difficult Cerb. Jock was called in on a murder case, a Cambridge professor, one Matthew Cramford. (Cerby's look said plainly: 'and that affects me how?') At the murder scene, in the dead man’s hands in fact, was a letter ---from your father.”
Cerby blinked. “My father?” That got her attention!
“Cerb, Jock thinks that Matthew and your father were working on something pretty important together in the past, that led to the professor’s recent death. Jock has come across some cryptic letters and one that spelled out some fear on your father’s part, that they were being spied upon. He thinks Cerb, from what he’s discovered, that your parent’s death and Matthew’s are somehow related.”
Aiden allowed Cerby time to digest the heavy emphasis on the word 'related'. He watched the dawning understanding in Cerby’s eyes. She withdrew her hand from his as if bitten, and stood up, turning away then around again to face him, a hand clenched protectively around the locket on her neck. Aid would have given anything not to see the immediate suffering, the incredulous expression plastered on her face. She had leapt to the conclusion in typically fast computation.
"After all this time Aid, are you saying---can this be true—it wasn’t an accident? Were my parents …murdered?” At the time of the tragedy she had felt the oddity of it, but put it down to grief, and it had taken years to come to grips with the finality of it all.
Aidan could feel the suppressed scream lying just below the surface. He stood up too. “You know Jock wouldn’t have approached me on this, and I wouldn’t have even credited it myself, without a certain amount of evidence Cerb. He…he wants me to re-open your parents file on this side of THE POND and he will be pursuing further, with everything he can throw at it, the Cramford case. I may have to spend a bit of time with Jock while we’re over there for the wedding…”
A steely light shone in Cerby’s eyes. “You mean WE will!”
Aidan was a bit taken aback with the lightning transition. He had his first inkling of grave concern. “We leave tomorrow night Cerb. It’s all been arranged through my own RCMP detachment, special exchange again on request of Jock and Scotland Yard, with a nod to Interpol's Special Services, the 'courtesy' of American law enforcement on this side of the border.
"You’ll have to ask Marcie to extend her dog-sitting duties—thank God we’ve got the best neighbour in the world. And we’d both better start packing. You’ll have all tomorrow to get things in order—the flight out of Burlington’ s at 5 pm, with us arriving around midnight in London--- but I’ll have to deek into the office tomorrow and quickly clear up a few things. Good thing I’d already been winding down anyway, what with our holiday coming up...”
"Holiday, you say." Cerby looked to be in a certain state of shock. Aidan sighed, and threw his arms wide. She walked into his embrace, Aidan enfolding her in the most all encompassing, protective bear-hug he could muster.
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Dear Reader—if you’re interested in learning more about Cerby Llewelyn’s latest adventure , and of course the Alumni too, see
Dec. 2020 release date for e-book and paperback on Amazon/Kindle:
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https://www.amazon.ca/s?k=alerton+alumni+mysteries+reunion&ref=nb_sb_noss:
Alaerton Alumni Mysteries:
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THE MAPLE BLIGHT
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SUMMARY
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Cerby and Aidan have been working hard on their Vermont Farm for the last year or so . It is fall and their production of Maple Syrup has made it to the distribution phase . Coinciding with the end of production is a visit by most of the Cavaliers and their significant others, to celebrate the First Annual Maple Sugar Fest and early fishing tournament . Cerby and Aidan look forward to entertaining their visitors in honour also of both the Canadian and American Thanksgivings . Before the gang gets into the throes of banks of fine cooking , site-seeing, fishing tournaments and general catch up, murder and mayhem strikes again leading to international organized crime and Puppie Mills-- the sweet and the sour core of the adventure . Cerby and Sapphira end up on the front lines with the rest of the Cavaliers assisting and holding the fort...
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To read on further, this book can be purchased on :
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Alaerton Alumni Mysteries:
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The Maple Blight
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© by Charlotte Helion
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