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  The snow had begun falling again early that morning, coating the lawn with smooth, fresh powder. But this time, it had been a proper holiday snowfall, gentle and sweet, rather than the blustery storm of a few days ago. Dana slipped her thick scarf over her shoulders like a shawl as she accepted a mug of coffee from a waiter. Breathing deeply, she took in the scene. Like so many others she remembered from years ago, this Christmas at the Wesley felt, simply, right. Like she was home. As happy as she was, she felt a pang in her stomach. She could almost picture Eileen leaning over the sofa, laughing with some young mother over her son’s antics.

  Breaking from her fantasy, she spotted Melissa and Noah lighting pumpkin-scented candles near the bar.

  “Merry Christmas!” she said cheerfully, brandishing a small wrapped gift for the couple.

  “Oh! Ms. Potter, you really didn’t have to. What you did yesterday….” Melissa’s eyes were wide.

  “Don’t mention it.” Dana winked.

  “No! I’m serious. That girl had me so completely fooled. I was really rooting for their love,” Melissa said sadly.

  “As I’ve said before, once you get to be my age, you realize that, in the end, everything comes down to a few simple things: money, love and passion, or jealousy. In the case, it was the latter two.”

  “Well,” Melissa said shyly, “You might be right about that. And I’m just relieved the whole thing is over and done with. Also… we got you something, too.”

  “You first!”

  Obligingly, Melissa and Noah opened their gift. It was a letter Eileen had written Dana when she had first laid eyes on the Wesley mansion, and it detailed her impression of the place, as well as her grand plans to make it a hotel someday. Uncannily, her words seemed to describe the very mood of the current Wesley Estates Hotel:

  I dream of a lodging that people come to escape and to indulge in their deepest desire to fold themselves into a storybook. The big, hot fireplace in the open lobby, comfortable seating, warm textures everywhere. Poster beds in the bedrooms—and a large ballroom with glistening old floors restored for special events. Oh, I can just see it!

  Dana had the letter framed tastefully. “I thought you could hang it somewhere. Your grandmother would be so proud of what you’ve done with the place. I have no doubt it will be a success.”

  Even Noah’s eyes seemed to be moist as the couple hugged her deeply. “Thank you, Ms. Potter. This is… amazing.” He said.

  “Now, yours,” Melissa said. Noah disappeared behind the bar and emerged with a huge rectangular-shaped object.

  “Oh my goodness,” Dana exclaimed. She unwrapped it to reveal a painting of the Wesley, one of the first that Eileen had commissioned for the hotel when she had purchased it back in the 1970s. It showed the old mansion in bright sunlight in the springtime, with wildflowers abloom, their vibrant colors spreading out across the whole grassy lawn. Dana gasped.

  “Oh, I can’t take this! This is too much.”

  “The Wesley means so much to you, and we just wanted you to always have the memory…. Plus, I remember you lamenting you never got to see the place in the springtime!”

  Dana stared at the large painting, brimming with joy. In the entrance to the hotel, the painter had included a small, but detailed rendering of Eileen, back when she was just a young woman. Her smile took up nearly her whole face, just as Dana remembered.

  *** The End ***

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  About the Author

  Liz lives in the foothills of the Canadian Rockies with her husband Rick and Golden Lab, Abbie.

  She's had a lifelong penchant for mysteries of all kinds. As a girl, she loved reading Nancy Drew and Hardy Boys stories before graduating on to Agatha Christie books. Figuring out who the culprit was always seemed to capture her imagination. Now she enjoys writing mysteries herself.

  Not content to stay in one genre, she has written novels in mystery & suspense/romance and most recently - cozy mysteries.

  When she's not writing she is hiking, camping and enjoying the great outdoors.

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  [email protected].

  Visit her Amazon Author Page for the complete list of books.

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  Small Town Corruption

  Preview of:

  Small Town Corruption

  Chapter 1

  The Mystery Blonde

  Dana Potter could not believe what she had just seen.

  She’d been pushing her portable grocery cart down the street, on her way to the local F & F’s Homegrown Grocery. The day was overcast—“My goodness. I hope this means we’re going to get rain,” she had remarked to the post office clerk that morning—but otherwise pleasant. Hence, it had seemed like a good day to get her shopping done. She had put on her magenta pantsuit—the one with the little dragonflies on the collar—and a wide-brimmed hat despite the shade.

  If someone would have told her that she’d see something so depraved in her little town at eight a.m. on a Wednesday, she would have laughed in their face.

  She’d grown up there in Pippin, Georgia and after retiring from her job as a real estate agent in Atlanta, she’d moved right back. Her boyfriend of twenty-five years (they’d never married because Dana didn’t believe in giving up her independence) had passed away in a car accident five years earlier, and she’d needed something familiar to fall back to.

  She adored how little the place had changed in fifty years. Sure—there were new roads, new schools, and the eastern part of town had really blown up with new manicured subdivisions filling what used to be cow fields—but the heart of Pippin remained the same. Life was lived at a slower pace there, and the townspeople had rejected offers to sell their land to large big-box stores, preferring the comfort of the family-run businesses that had been there for decades.

  Therefore, to see something as downright awful and unladylike as she’d just witnessed in front of the redbrick library on Main Street that she’d used herself as a little girl—Dana tsked and vowed to do something about it.

  The perpetrator was a middle-aged woman who clearly wasn’t from around there judging from her attire. She’d had on a slim white business dress and cream-colored pumps.

  No one wore white shoes in southern Georgia if they could help it, for the red clay seeped onto every surface no matter how many times the town paved over it.

  The woman had long blond hair flowing in soft waves down her back and wore large sunglasses that covered most of her petite face.

  Dana had been marveling at the woman’s absurdly city-like attire in a town like Pippin when she’d witnessed her pause in front of Pete, dip her hand into the cup he had outstretched in front of him, and close her fist around a couple of bills.

  Dana had gasped, her hand fluttering to her chest, when she realized exactly what the woman was doing.

  She was stealing from the homeless.

  Pete was an older man who’d shown up in Pippin about a year after Dana had moved back. He’d ambled into town from the bus station after running out of money to go any farther and had simply never left, seeming to take a shine to the kindhearted folk there. His crinkling blue eyes above a wild salt-and-pepper beard always struck Dana as genuinely sweet.

  Pete never did anything to anyone. A few times a week, he sat in his corner by the library and graciously accepted any spare change given to him. On hotter days, he would sometimes spend hours inside the library listening to audio tapes and making quiet, self-aware conversation with anyone who approached him. Never drawing undue attention to himself, he was always willing to offer a kind word to anyone who needed it.

  The people of Pippin had an unspoken understanding that Pete was as much
a member of their town as anyone. He slept in the church basement every night, earning his keep by cleaning up after Sunday services. Though many townspeople had offered to put him up in their homes, employ and pay him full-time at their businesses, and help him get on his feet, Pete always demurred softly. He preferred the simple life and felt that he was exactly where he was supposed to be. He had a place to sleep, a job that fed him, and the kindness of others when he needed it. “Don’t want to change a thing,” he would say, smiling brightly.

  Dana suspected something terrible must have befallen him in his life before he was homeless, making him content to live as he did. Either that, or he was just a humble person without a greedy bone in his body.

  Anger broiled in Dana’s stomach as she watched the woman quickly click away on her heels. Dana wanted nothing more than to chase her down and make her apologize, but she knew she’d never catch her. So instead, she walked up the road to Pete.

  “Pete?”

  He looked in her direction, his unseeing eyes clouded over and unfocused. “Is that Ms. Potter I hear? Well, how are you doing this fine morning?” His hand rested on the harness of his seeing-eye dog, a yellow Labrador named Punchy.

  Dana couldn’t help but smile at his infectious cheer. She had meant to tell him what had happened, but now, staring into his kind face, she wasn’t sure it would help any. He certainly wasn’t going to chase down the woman or go to the police for such a petty theft. “I’m fine, Pete,” she said. “How are you today? It looks like it might rain!”

  “Well, now, that would be a blessing, wouldn’t it?” he said.

  “That it would, Pete.” She stared after the woman’s disappearing silhouette down a side street, noting that she was heading east.

  “Ms. Potter, did you happen to see who robbed me blind in broad daylight?” Pete asked suddenly.

  Dana blinked, taken aback. “As a matter a fact, I did. I was just checking on you to make sure you were okay. Don’t worry. I’m going to find her.”

  “Her?”

  “Pete, why didn’t you stop her if you knew what she was doing?”

  He shook his head slowly. “I figured anybody who steals from a blind man’s begging cup must be in pretty bad shape.”

  Dana pursed her lips, thinking about how that woman’s fancy outfit told a different story.

  “Well, Pete, you have my word that I’m going to find that woman and bring her to justice! We can’t have high-falootin’ people cruising into our humble town from God-knows-where and just committing crimes!”

  Pete chuckled. “That’s all right, Ms. Potter. But I must say I admire your passion. Always have.” He smiled.

  Dana smoothed her blazer. “I mean it, Pete. I’m retired anyhow, so I’ve got all the time in the world to devote to this little mystery.” She squeezed his arm affectionately. “I’ll see you later.”

  “Goodbye, Ms. Potter!” he said cheerfully and then paused. “Isn’t it your anniversary today?” he added. “I remember it being right around this time in early March.”

  Dana stopped in her tracks and smiled at him though he couldn’t see it. She hoped he would hear it in her voice though. “Yes, it is,” she said softly. “Thank you. I was planning to get some azaleas at the florist’s after I finish my shopping. It was Brent’s favorite flower.”

  “That’s real nice,” Pete said, smiling wistfully.

  And with that, Dana was off. She moved purposefully down the street into the grocery store, pushing her little cart in front of her. Once inside, she ran down her list and quickly went through the aisles to put her favorite brands into her cart.

  “Ms. Potter, you must be in a hurry!” exclaimed Tera Wilcox as she rang up Dana’s items. She was a 17-year-old who went to the local high school. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you spend less than forty-five minutes in here—twenty just inspecting the produce!”

  Dana chuckled. “I’ve got something to do right after this, so I’m just going to hope the watermelon I’ve picked is sweet enough. Can you promise me that, Tera?”

  The girl blinked. “Well, it looks like a good one to me, I can tell you that,” she said, seeming unsure how to respond.

  “Oh, that’s all right, Tera. I’m just joking. I’m sure it’s fine. Thank you very much, dear.” Dana began to gather her bags and put them in her cart.

  “Let me help you.” Tera moved from behind the counter and without waiting for Dana to respond, she took the bags from her and began arranging them inside the cart.

  Dana frowned as she stared at the mess Tera was making, putting the cans of beans on the soft bananas, and precariously placing the jar of marinara on the top of the cart. “That’s all right, dear. Let me—”

  “Oh no, no,” Tera said, smiling. “I’ve got this. You just relax.”

  Dana sighed. Sometimes she hated the way people treated those who’d reached their 70th birthday as if they weren’t capable of taking care of themselves. She knew it was partly a good thing, this southern way of respecting the elderly.

  Not that she thought of herself as elderly or anything…

  “Thank you, Tera,” she forced herself to say. She frowned, a thought coming to her. “By any chance, have you seen a fancy dressed woman around here, wearing white heels?”

  Tera thought for a moment, then shook her head. “No, I haven’t seen nobody like that at all.”

  “Anybody,” Dana corrected.

  “Huh?”

  “You haven’t seen anybody like that at all this morning, then?”

  “That’s what I said. Sorry. Only people that have been in here are the regular folk.”

  Dana smiled. “All right. Thank you,” she said, and headed on her way.

  All that texting has their grammar confused, she thought, reflecting on teenagers in general.

  She checked her watch and saw that she had a little time before the florist opened, so she headed down the street to her favorite café, the Blue Swallow. It was owned by an old school friend of hers, although her daughter, Lydia, now mostly ran it.

  The bells above the door clanged as Dana pushed inside. The place was the cutest little diner Dana had ever encountered. Atlanta had had some neat places, but they always tried too hard to be quirky, with their road signs on the walls and coffees served in mason jars. The Blue Swallow, on the other hand, looked as it had since it opened forty years ago, except for the coffee presses being updated and the back wall being blown out ten years earlier to make more room. It had sweet wooden walls and ceiling exposed beams. Gorgeous paintings, all in blue, covered the walls. They’d been collected over the years by Lydia and her mother; the duo had impeccable taste.

  “Dana!” Lydia said, bustling over. She was a woman of large proportions, with a mop of curly auburn hair she kept tied with a bandana. “You’re here bright and early! What can I get you?”

  “Hello, Lydia,” Dana said, returning a hug. “Just the usual, please.”

  Lydia set to work preparing her Americano with a dash of almond milk.

  “Have you had anyone in this morning or am I your first customer of the day?” Dana asked.

  “Why? You lookin’ for a prize or somethin’?” Lydia said, chuckling. “If you are, you’re out of luck. We had some folks in here just about twenty minutes ago. Out-of-towner’s if you can believe it. I asked them if they were relatives of someone here, figuring I might know them, but they said no. I can’t imagine what would bring people like that into our town, just on vacation or something. Beats me! And we’re not even off any major highways.” Lydia shook her head, amused.

  Dana’s ears perked up. “What did they look like?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. A mother and daughter, I think. The girl was cute, but the mother…” Lydia whistled. “She was something else. Wearing this tight dress like she was going to walk into a business meeting with a wall street shark!”

  Dana’s pulse quickened. That was the woman all right. “Did they say anything, like where they’d be going?”


  Lydia looked at Dana, a twinkle in her eye. “You gone’ tell me what this is about?” She shook her head and placed her drink down in front of Dana. “They didn’t say much, but they looked really nervous. The older woman kept drumming her fingernails on the counter and looking over her shoulder at the door. She just about jumped when I came up behind her.” Lydia jerked her head to her left. “When they left, they went down the street awhile and then turned on Bradley Avenue.”

  There was only one business on Bradley—the local mechanic.

  So, the mystery continues, Dana thought, smiling a little and vowing that she wouldn’t let the woman get away with her misdeed.

  Click here to read the rest of: Small Town Corruption.

  Other Books by

  Liz Turner

  Box Sets (Your Best Value)

  A Mega Collection of Cozy Mysteries & More

  Dr. Hallie Malone Cozy Mysteries:

  Murder-A Deadly Stew

  Half-Baked Blackmail & Murder

  The Sandwich Murder

  The Bakery Truck Mystery

  Murder at the Movies

  Jolene Park – Attorney at Law, Cozy Mysteries:

  A Deadly Con

  Deadly Winnings

  Left For Dead in Alaska

  Cozy Mystery Romances:

  Notes From the Mysterious “G”

  Mountain Mayhem

  Dana Potter Cozy Mysteries:

  Small Town Corruption

  Copyright © 2018 by Liz Turner.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.