4 sleuths and a barnstor.., p.1
4 Sleuths & A Barnstormer: A Killer Foursome Mystery, page 1
4 SLEUTHS & A BARNSTORMER
A KILLER FOURSOME MYSTERY
LESLIE LANGTRY
ARLENE MCFARLANE
TRACI ANDRIGHETTI
DIANA ORGAIN
CONTENTS
1. Merry
Leslie Langtry
2. Franki
Traci Andrighetti
3. Valentine
Arlene McFarlane
4. Kate
Diana Orgain
5. Amy
Traci Andrighetti
6. Merry
Leslie Langtry
7. Franki
Traci Andrighetti
8. Valentine
Arlene McFarlane
9. Kate
Diana Orgain
10. Amy
Arlene McFarlane
11. Merry
Leslie Langtry
12. Franki
Traci Andrighetti
13. Valentine
Arlene McFarlane
14. Kate
Diana Orgain
15. Amy
Diana Orgain
16. Merry
Leslie Langtry
17. Franki
Traci Andrighetti
18. Valentine
Arlene McFarlane
19. Kate
Diana Orgain
20. Merry
Leslie Langtry
21. Epilogue: Franki
Traci Andrighetti
22. Epilogue: Valentine
Arlene McFarlane
23. Epilogue: Kate
Diana Orgain
24. Epilogue: Merry
Leslie Langtry
Behind the Book
Stay tuned for Book 4!
About the Authors
4 SLEUTHS & A BARNSTORMER
A Killer Foursome Mystery
Copyright© 2023 by LMAO Press
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book in whole or in
part in any form.
4 SLEUTHS & A BARNSTORMER is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the authors’ imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
ebook ISBN-13: 978-1-7781795-2-5
print ISBN: 978-1-7781795-3-2
Published by LMAO Press
Canada
Cover Design by Arlene McFarlane
Cover by Adrian Doan Kim
Formatting by Traci Andrighetti
Created with Vellum
MERRY
LESLIE LANGTRY
No, Riley, glamping is a blend of glamor and camping, where the usual camping things like hiking, canoeing, making s’mores, and games like Ghost in the Graveyard or Russian roulette are done in a luxurious rather than rustic setting.
“Russian roulette?” Betty read over my shoulder. “Why are you holding out on us?”
My thumb backtracked to erase that from the text. I really needed to self-edit more. “That’s only if you’re glamping in Kyzyl, Russia. And they cheat. Tough scouts, though.”
Riley, my former handler and current town PI, was curious about the idea of glamping. He’d been camping with my troop before and didn’t enjoy it. I could tell he was hoping for an invite. Especially since it would be all women. I was one of a very small group of women who could ignore the hunky lady-killer’s charms.
No men allowed. Period. I sent the text before putting my phone away for what I hoped would be the whole weekend ahead.
“You can’t go camping without us.” Ava, the thirteen-year-old mayor, stamped her foot. “It’s against the law.”
Why were the girls even here? I didn’t invite them. I just went out to the garage and there they were. Hopefully, they weren’t secretly tracking my movements again.
“It’s an adult event called glamping.” I tossed aside a tarp in hopes of finding my camping gear. “And it’s not against the law.”
“It will be after tomorrow night’s city council meeting,” Ava corrected.
I stopped what I was doing. “Why would the aldermen vote on an ordinance to make it mandatory for me to take you to an event?”
“Officially?” Ava asked. “It’s in the best interest of girls in this town that their leader doesn’t go do cool stuff without them.”
“Unofficially,” Inez added, “Betty has dirt on all the alder-dudes. Did you know Mr. Amudson is laundering money? I don’t know what that is, but apparently it’s bad to throw cash in the washer.”
Betty looked out through the doorway and frowned. “Amudson shouldn’t talk on his phone so loud in the alley behind his house in the middle of the night.”
I put my hands on my hips in hopes of looking intimidating. “You really have to stop stalking politicians.”
“You’re going to Girl Scout camp,” Betty said as she whittled a silencer for the wooden semi-automatic she’d whittled earlier. “We are Girl Scouts. You have to take us.”
“It’s a fundraiser for Girl Scouts, and you can’t go. There’s going to be drinking. Adult stuff.”
Where was my backpack? I’d been tearing apart my garage for twenty minutes now and couldn’t find most of my camping gear. Maybe it was in the basement with the c4. Or it could be in the attic with my booby traps. Either way, this was frustrating. I really should organize better. You’d think since I’d just rebuilt this garage after the most recent explosion I’d be able to find everything.
I should clarify. This was the garage at my old house (which I still owned), which was across the street from my current house where I lived with my husband, Rex. The girls have twice, in my absence, burned the place down. The last time it blew up wasn’t because of them, but for some reason, this structure was the poster room for things that go boom.
“What if we donate money and go in disguise?” Betty suggested. “I could pass for an adult.”
That would be a nightmare. “At four feet, ten inches? Unlikely.”
“Aha! That means there’s a chance it is likely,” Lauren argued.
“Guys!” I threw my arms up in exasperation. “You’ve been bugging me about this since I got back from New Orleans. My answer isn’t going to change. And where’s all my camping gear?”
My name is Merry Wrath, and I used to be a CIA field officer. Which meant I’d been a spy. And a good one. Until the former vice president “accidentally” outed me on CNN while I was undercover in the only bar in Chechnya that had CNN. That was a trip home I’ll never forget, what with stealing an oxcart that broke down five miles later, crossing one hundred miles on foot through a countryside teeming with traitorous goats, and being chased by an armed chicken.
Fortunately, that all happened years ago and I was now back in my hometown of Who’s There, Iowa, running a Girl Scout troop. Which, when you thought about it, was kind of the same thing.
“I can help you.” Betty put down a pocketknife that suspiciously did not look scout-approved. “I’ll tell you where your gear is. If you let us go with you.”
I’d buy all new gear before I’d let that happen. This was going to be a relaxing getaway with my friends, Franki, Valentine, and Kate. Throwing in a few mercenary scouts wasn’t part of the plan. Besides, Kelly, my best friend and co-leader, would never forgive me. She always thought I was a smidge irresponsible for teaching the girls how to throw knives and make lanyard garrotes. Smuggling a bunch of twelve-year-olds into a day-drunk event wouldn’t help.
“It’ll just be me, Ava, and Lauren,” Betty said. “The Kaitlyns are all on vacation together, and Inez has softball practice every day.”
“Nope. Not happening. I like these ladies, and I want them to continue liking me.”
“Little sister!” Ron called out from the doorway in his thick accent. “We have brought the things that you asked us for.”
Ivan opened an oversized folding chair imprinted with the image of a badger wearing sunglasses and a bikini, as if it were sunning itself.
Ron and Ivan were a couple of happy-go-lucky, low IQ Chechens who went from breaking bones for the strongman I was undercover with, to helping their wives, my sisters-in-law, with their taxidermy business.
Rex’s sisters, Randi and Ronni, were taxidermists whose area of expertise was making dioramas of dead animals doing people-y things. Currently on display in their showroom was a flock of seagulls as A Flock of Seagulls in Concert, complete with pompadours, five moray eels playing Twister in anime costumes, and my personal favorite—a major samurai battle with acrobatic, kimono-wearing praying mantids. Did I mention that most of their business was online and most of their clients were from Japan?
“And we have found your backpack.” Ivan held it up. “We do not know how it got into the costume shed.”
Ava glared at Betty, who was suddenly intensely fascinated with her fingernails.
“You hid them at Ferguson Taxidermy?” I asked her.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Betty said a bit too easily.
Ron folded up the badger chair. “Will this chair work for your friend who is pregnant with two babies?”
“It’s perfect!” I took the large chair from him and set it aside.
“Where are these friends from, who aren’t us, and get to go camping with you, unlike u
“Kate’s from San Francisco, Valentine’s from Rueland, a town near Boston, and Franki’s from NOLA.”
“Nola?” Ron grimaced. “Nola is bad!”
“No, Nola is—” I started.
Ivan cut me off. “We have enola at home. Very bad. Blood comes out of your elbows.”
“That’s ebola,” I corrected him. “And I don’t think blood comes out of—”
“No, it’s enola,” Ivan insisted. “My cousin had it. He is fine now. Does not remember his name and married a snail, but for back home that is okay.”
My phone pinged, and I looked across the street to see a blue SUV pull into my other driveway.
“That’s them! You guys need to go. I’ve got some hosting to do!”
Loud squeals erupted as I raced across the street and into the arms of my friends.
“You’re here!” I jumped up and down. It was possible I spent too much time with little girls. “I told you I could pick you up at the airport in Des Moines!”
Valentine waved me off. “We went ahead and rented a car. I was surprised at how pretty the Iowa countryside is!”
Kate took a few deep breaths. “Fresh air and you guys! I’ve been looking forward to this!”
“At least it isn’t as hot as it is at home.” Franki looked across the street. “Why are there two goons and four little girls glaring at us?”
I turned to see Ava, Betty, Lauren, and Inez frowning at us. Ron and Ivan waved happily like a couple of idiots.
“My troop and my brothers-in-law,” I said. “Go home!” I shouted across the street before herding the ladies into my house.
My handsome husband Rex, the town’s detective, introduced himself. “It’s nice meeting you! Merry talks about you all the time. Don’t worry about your bags. I’ll transfer them to the van for you.”
“Oh, babe,” I said as he headed down the hall, “there’s a large folding chair and my backpack outside. Can you throw those in?”
“He’s cute!” Valentine said as Rex winked before walking out the door.
“That man is a saint,” I said. “He doesn’t give me a hard time when bodies pop up around me. Well, not like he used to.”
Leonard, our Scottish deerhound, came over wagging his tail, and sat politely as the ladies petted him.
“Is that cat dead?” Kate looked concerned as she pointed at Martini.
The cat was unconscious, sprawled on her back on top of a cactus like she was peacefully undergoing some sort of acupuncture treatment.
“Martini is a bit of a narcoleptic. She falls asleep at the drop of a hat about every five minutes. The vet says she’s okay.” I picked up the limp cat and put her on a dining room chair instead. She didn’t even move.
The girls were dressed for adventure, which was good because we didn’t have much time. Valentine wore a colorful tie-dyed dress and matching kerchief, plus something she called “Tevas” or “camping heels” that looked like shoes she might go dancing in. Hey, they might come in handy, and they did go with her particular style.
Franki was wearing a long-sleeved shirt, black cargo pants, and boots. Kate wore a cute blue plaid camp shirt and a blue boonie cap. I looked down at my plain T-shirt, shorts, and hiking boots.
“I’m looking forward to s’mores!” Kate held her belly. “Oh! They moved! I think the twins might be future scouts.” She looked at her baby bump. “S’mores!” She laughed. “They both kicked!”
“You can have all the s’mores you can eat, trust me. I’ll make them myself.”
Franki was examining a can of bug spray. “What’s Deet?”
“Neurotoxin,” I said without thinking.
Kate looked nervous.
“For bugs,” I corrected. “It’s safe for people. But it affects mosquitoes’ nervous systems and repels them. Too bad it doesn’t work on Boy Scouts.”
“Can I just marinate in this all weekend?” Franki asked. “I don’t like mosquitoes.”
“Absolutely,” I replied. “And there’s no bubble baths at camp. Not until we get back on Sunday.”
“No problem.” Valentine scooped her gorgeous, glossy burgundy hair to one side and adjusted her kerchief. “After just getting back from a camping trip with my staff, this’ll be a piece of cake!”
Kate seemed to relax. “Even though I can’t go canoeing or ride horses or anything like that, I’m looking forward to relaxing by the fire. Just the four of us in the great outdoors with no drama. It’ll be heaven.”
Franki smiled. “It’s good to see you guys without any bodies around.”
I nodded. “We’re going to have a blast! And the weather’s good, too. It should only be in the high 70’s and low 80’s the whole weekend.”
“Super. I can’t do hot again like NOLA,” Kate said. “That almost killed me.”
Rex came in the front door. “The van’s loaded up. You ladies have fun!”
I kissed my husband quickly. “Thanks, babe!”
“I’ll have chilled wine waiting for you upon your return, Sunday,” Rex said. “And a non-alcoholic daiquiri for Kate.”
What sounded like an elephant ran across the floor above and thundered down the stairs before Philby, my cat who resembled Hitler, appeared wearing her full rubber werewolf mask. She looked at my friends expectantly.
“Uh…” Franki’s eyebrows went up. “There’s something really wrong with your cat.”
“Yeah.” I shouldered my backpack. “There is. You girls ready?”
“It’s not as cool as Franki’s convertible,” I said as we loaded everyone inside. “But this baby has gotten me through many camping trips over the years.”
Once I was sure Kate was comfortable up front in the passenger side, and that Franki and Valentine were buckled, I started the engine and pulled out of the driveway. It only took five minutes to get to the Girl Scout council office, because it only took five minutes to get anywhere in Who’s There, Iowa.
A group was waiting when we got there. In addition to two Girl Scout council staffers, there were thirteen other women there, hanging out in cliques. Four pretty blonde women of indeterminate age, most likely associated with plastic surgery, were dressed in brand-new and expensive recreational clothing. They seemed friendly but standoffish.
Five other women in their thirties and forties were whooping it up, laughing loudly, and having a great time. Four younger women stood around quietly. It was hard to tell if they knew each other.
I helped Kate out of the van, and we joined the others.
“Merry!” Amy Johnson waved. “I’m so glad you could come!”
The pretty twenty-six-year-old brunette bounded over to me. She’d been on the Girl Scout staff for a couple of years. I liked her because she allowed me to get away with small sins like fudging parental permission slips, and she looked the other way when I gently blackmailed customers into buying Girl Scout cookies. The other staffer, Susanna Barkley, was in her forties. A very nice woman who was also very serious, but also the most competent person I’d ever met.
I introduced my friends, and she handed us each a green-and-white tote bag with our schedule and a full mason jar with our names on it. “Those are mimosas, and one with only juice for Kate. Don’t lose the glasses because we’ll re-use them.”
“Drinking at nine in the morning?” Valentine peered into her labeled glass.
Franki drained half of hers in one gulp. “Day drinking—just like back home. I approve.”
A bus pulled up, and we got in.
“Let’s get this party started!” A stout blonde who appeared to have been “celebrating” for a while now roared, “Wooooooo!”
