The Trouble with Turkeys (Zoe Donovan Mystery Book 2)

The Trouble with Turkeys

by

Kathi Daley

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 entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2013 by Katherine Daley

Version 2.0

All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.

This book is dedicated to my littlest angel Xavier; forever in our minds, forever in our hearts.
 

I also want to thank Christy for her valuable feedback and help with the recipes, Ricky for the webpage, Cristin for her recipes and encouragement, Paul for his help and guidance, Randy Ladenheim-Gil for the editing, and last but not least my super-husband Ken for allowing me time to write by taking care of everything else.

Books by Kathi Daley

Paradise Lake Series:

Pumpkins in Paradise
– available on Amazon in paperback or Kindle

Snowmen in Paradise
– coming to Amazon February 2014

Bikinis in Paradise
– coming to Amazon June 2014

Zoe Donovan Mysteries:

Halloween Hijinks
– available on Amazon in paperback or Kindle

The Trouble With Turkeys
- available on Amazon in paperback or Kindle

Christmas Crazy
– coming to Amazon November 2013

Cupids Curse
– coming to Amazon January 2014

“This had better be good,” I growled as I was rudely awakened from a deep, peaceful slumber. The view from the loft of my boathouse revealed a dark horizon and I was not amused.

“Hey, Zoe. Sorry to call so early,” Jeremy Fisher, my ex-assistant apologized.

I groaned as I sat up and looked at the bedside clock. Although the sun had yet to make an appearance over the distant mountain, the digital readout informed me that it was nearly seven o’clock. It happens that way as autumn gives way to winter. Ashton Falls, the village I call home, is nestled snuggly within the protective arms of the surrounding mountains that rise to a height of over ten thousand feet. As the days shorten it takes the welcoming sun a bit longer to rise over the summit.

“I think I found us a job,” Jeremy continued. “It’s only temporary,
ten days; two weeks at the most, but the pay is good.”

“How good?
” 

Jeremy quoted an amount that caused me to gasp as images of the type of job that might pay that kind of money filtered through my head. “You haven’t gotten us into something illegal or immoral, have you?”

“No, I can assure you the job is perfectly legal.”

“Who would pay that much money for two weeks’ work?” I had to ask.

Jeremy hesitated. “A farm in the valley. The owner was found dead in his kitchen yesterday morning, and they need someone to take care of the animals until . . . until other arrangements can be made.”

“Where in the valley?” I yawned.

“About twenty miles south of Bryton Lake.”

Bryton Lake is thirty miles away, which would put the farm a good fifty miles from my mountain home. The fact that I’d be required to spend
two hours commuting between the two locations every day didn’t thrill me, and I suspected Jeremy knew that.

“Please think about it at least,” Jeremy pleaded.

“Yeah, okay.” I yawned. “How about we meet in a couple of hours?”

“I’m already at the farm,” Jeremy informed me. “I got the call yesterday afternoon and decided to come to check it out. I thought I might be able to handle the workload on my own, but this is definitely a two-person job. Can you meet me here?”

The last thing I wanted to do was drive down the mountain when the dark clouds working their way over the summit hinted at snow that was likely to fall. Still, it had been my fault Jeremy had lost his only means of income. You see, I tend to be a bit of a buttinsky. In the past my meddling has caused a headache or two for the local sheriff, so when it became apparent that I was more than a little interested in the outcome of the murder investigation that was riveting the area over the Halloween weekend, my boss, County Commissioner Gordon Cromwell, warned me not to interfere. To make a long story short, I did, he fired me, and the local animal control facility where Jeremy and I worked was permanently closed.

“How exactly did you find out about this job?” I was still having a hard time believing that a simple farm job would pay the kind of money Jeremy was talking about.

“The estate executor called me. He must have seen one of the ads I posted. I really need a job, so I’ve got feelers out everywhere: Craigslist, Facebook, the local newspaper, fliers put up in all the businesses in the area. You name it, you’ll find one of my ads.”

“Okay. Text me the directions. I should be there in a few hours.”

After I hung up my two dogs, Charlie and Maggie, adjusted their positions on the bed as I fell back into the soft cushion of my mattress. I turned onto my side and pulled a heavy comforter over my shoulders against the chilly alpine morning. What I really wanted to do was go back to sleep, but even I had to admit I’d turned into a bit of a slacker in the two weeks since I’d joined the ranks of the unwillingly unemployed. It sounded like Jeremy had been pounding the pavement looking for a new job while I had been happily wallowing in a cloak of self-pity worthy of the drama queen I tend to be. I supposed it was time to get back into some sort of regular routine, and a job, even a temporary one, might be the catalyst that would return me to the land of the living.

It wouldn’t be so bad, I reasoned: a couple of weeks tending to a handful of cows, horses, and other livestock. I had a soft spot for cows,
and the prospect of hanging out with the sweet-faced bovines held a certain appeal. My background included the care and rehabilitation of both wild and domestic animals, and while I’d never really worked with farm animals per se, I was certain Jeremy and I would be able to rise to the occasion.

I unfolded myself from the warm cocoon created by the mountain of blankets I slept under and stepped into my knee-high slippers. After pulling a warm sweatshirt over the long johns I wore to bed, I made my way down the stairs, tossed a fresh log on the smoldering fire, and started the coffee.

By the time I called my dad to ask him to check on my very pregnant rescue dog Maggie while Charlie and I met with Jeremy, the coffee had finished brewing. I poured a cup and walked out onto the deck overlooking the lake. I really do live in the ultimate spot. The boathouse, along with the fifty acres of lakefront property that goes with it, is owned by my maternal grandfather, who originally used it to house his boat. Nine years ago a group of farmers in the valley got together and challenged the legality of the Ashton Falls Dam, forcing its opening, which caused the water level to decrease dramatically. The boathouse now sits about twenty feet from the natural waterline. A few years ago I asked my mom if it would be possible to convert the abandoned structure and, surprisingly, my grandfather not only agreed but offered to pay for the renovation as well. Charlie and I have been living here ever since.

Charlie and Maggie chased each other on the beach as I sipped my beverage and watched a flock of geese fly in perfect formation over the glassy water of the nearby lake. The sun had just begun its daily ascent, bringing a scurry of activity to the forest floor. The mornings were getting colder as winter approached, and I knew that within a few weeks the mama bear and her cubs who visited every day would burrow into their den as the lazy days of summer gave way to the silence and serenity of a long, peaceful winter.

It was nearly eight thirty by the time I showered and dressed in warm clothing. After I said good-bye to Maggie, I called to Charlie, and headed out to the monster that would take me down the hill. You see, although I’m diminutive in size at a mere five foot tall, I drive a truck: a big one. A four-wheel drive, heavy-duty, extra-cab, lift-kit enhanced, long-bed monster. I find its size necessary, given the fact that I live and work in an environment where half of the miles I log each year are spent plowing through waist-deep snow or jolting along rutted dirt roads.

As I drove through town, I paused to look at the hundreds of thousands of twinkling lights that had appeared almost magically overnight. It was just two weeks until Thanksgiving and the official start of the holiday season. It looked like the proprietors of the town’s shops were getting an early start on the decorating. In addition to the white globes that framed every window and doorway, there were lights hanging in every one of the small patio trees that lined the main drag. The gazebo in the town square was in the process of being decked out in anticipation of the giant tree that would be delivered and decorated the weekend after Thanksgiving. The first Friday in December was reserved for the annual tree lighting, and I knew that within the next couple of weeks there wouldn’t be a store window left undecorated or a decorative lamppost without a wreath.

I love the excitement and enthusiasm that engulfs my little town as autumn morphs into winter. The smell of pumpkin mingled with cinnamon and nutmeg lingered as I passed Rosie’s, the cafe my best friend, Ellie Davis, owns with her mother. Deciding that I had more than enough time for another cup of coffee, I pulled my truck to the side of the road and parked. I told Charlie to wait as I put on my jacket over my sweater and made my way toward the front of the building.

Rosie’s is the quintessential alpine caf
e, perched snuggly on the shoreline of Ashton Lake; it’s surrounded by tall pines and quaking aspens that turn a brilliant yellow every autumn. On any given day, between the hours of six a.m. and two p.m., locals and visitors alike gather at Rosie’s to share a meal and catch up on the latest gossip. Built on the north shore of the lake, Rosie’s takes full advantage of the view with a wall of large windows nestled between knotty pine logs that make up the frame of the rugged, hand-milled cabin. The cafe is decorated with an eclectic assortment of skis, sleds, snowshoes, fishing poles, climbing ropes, and other antiques that define the area, while tables, both large and small, are arranged within the open and airy room around a huge floor-to-ceiling fireplace.

“Hey, Zoe, what are you doing out and about this early?” Ellie
tucked a lock of her long brown hair behind her ear as she greeted me with her welcoming smile.

“I’m heading down the hill to see Jeremy about a temporary job,” I replied. “I could smell the tantalizing aroma of your mom’s muffins from the road. I’ve already eaten, but I couldn’t resist.”

“We have cranberry nut, pumpkin spice, caramel apple, lemon poppy seed, and chocolate cream,” Ellie informed me.

“Caramel apple?”

“They’re new,” Ellie confirmed. “They’re really good but also sort of messy. I’m thinking they’re not the best choice for the road. If you want to take some to have with your coffee in the morning I’m sure you’ll like them.”

“
Okay, give me a couple caramel apple muffins for later as well as a cranberry nut for the road. In fact, give me two cranberry nut muffins. Charlie is waiting in the truck. I’ll take a coffee to go as well.” I waved to the members of the local Rotary Club, who’d walked in and sat down in a booth overlooking the lake.

“Temporary job?” Ellie asked as I slid onto one of the bar
stools lining the counter and she put the muffins into a bag with a handful of napkins.

“Something Jeremy found at one of the farms in the valley,” I explained
. “To be honest, I’m not thrilled about making the drive every day, but it’s only for a couple of weeks at the most, and Jeremy sounded like he was in a bind.”

“Maybe it won’t be so bad. The trees are beautiful this time of year,” Ellie pointed out as she filled my order. “That’s one of the things I love about the foothills. The color lasts so much longer than it does up here on the mountain.”

“That’s true. You and I and Levi should get together this weekend. Maybe we can go for a drive through the valley like we have other years. We can stop at that old bar near the ski lodge and have a burger and a beer.”

“Yeah, I’m in, but who knows about Levi with everything that’s going on.”

“Something’s going on with Levi?” 

“I just meant that with Barbie in the picture . . .”

Barbie, who by the way looks like the doll by the same name, is Levi’s current girlfriend.