A Sip of Murder (Japanese Tea Garden Mysteries Book 1) Read online

  A Sip of Murder

  Blythe Baker

  Copyright © 2018 by Blythe Baker

  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 the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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  Contents

  Description

  Newsletter Invitation

  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

  Excerpt

  About the Author

  When tea and murder make a bitter brew ...

  Maddie Morgan’s life is going up in flames. She’s got ex-husband troubles, a mother-in-law feud, and a cantankerous parrot to contend with. But just as old doors close, a new one opens, beginning with the sudden death of Maddie’s grandmother and an unexpected inheritance. Moving to a new town, Maddie rolls up her sleeves and prepares to revive a run-down tourist attraction that could one day be returned to its former glory as a Japanese tea garden.

  But getting the tea garden up and running won’t be easy, not with someone trying to sabotage her efforts. Worse still, there’s a murderer on the loose and corpses are popping up like daisies in the tea garden! Can Maddie capture the killer before they strike again? Or will her life, along with her freshly brewed new business opportunity, get sucked down the drain?

  ______________________________

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  Chapter 1

  Adventure lies ahead.

  The words, printed on a sliver of paper found in a fortune cookie and now taped to my bathroom mirror, made me smile. It was a little scrap of hope anchoring me in the center of my world as the edges began to crumble around me.

  My fingers were stained bright red. A morbid part of me thought it resembled blood. Copper dye rinsed from my hair and dripped in violent, ruby splashes along the sink basin. Each strand of hair no longer clung to its naturally safe, dark-brown hue but instead took on a bolder glint of red.

  “This is it, Maddie. A new you.” My voice echoed in the tiny bathroom. Bolder hair for a bolder woman. That was my hope, anyway.

  After toweling off my hair, I allowed myself a moment to take in my new appearance. The slight almond shape of my blue eyes, paired with my new hair, gave me an unusual look. It was a welcome change to the typical, mousey appearance I had worn for the past thirty-odd years. The new hair also made me look a few years younger, which after recently going through a divorce was a nice plus.

  But it wasn’t the divorce that should be on my mind now. I glanced through the open doorway toward a pile of papers on my nightstand in the next room. The elegant letterhead from Bailey Law Firm was visible even from here. An envelope with a jagged end peeked out from underneath the thick, folded paper. A letter. That was how I had recently found out that my long-lost Japanese grandmother had passed away. It had felt so cold and formal at the time, but her end also seemed to give life to my new beginning. Courage sparked from a fortune cookie was fanned into a flickering flame by the notice of inheritance.

  Grabbing the slip of fortune cookie paper from the mirror now, I tucked it snugly into my robe pocket. I draped the towel around my shoulders and stepped out from the bathroom toward the tidy pile of documents.

  Zipped luggage clogged up the space between my bathroom and my nightstand. Empty drawers held their jaws open in surprise at my plucky decision to pack up my life and move to a new town. The barren room made my stomach flitter with possibility. With a quivering hand, I reached out to pick up the letter from Mr. James Bailey. My heart thundered in my chest as I reread part of the letter.

  As her closest living relative, the late Mrs. Matsuki would like to bequeath to you—as set forth by her will—her house and an attached plot of land comprised of ten acres. Included with the land is Mrs. Matsuki’s self-owned business: a Japanese tea garden. Though the business was closed in her final days, it is my belief that with a little effort, it could be reopened should you desire to do so.

  My desire to escape my drab little life had been given direction with those words. A tea garden. Guilty curiosity bubbled up inside of me. Was it disrespectful to feel excitement over an inheritance? If I was able to get the gardens back up and running, it would keep my grandmother’s legacy alive. Surely, she would want me to see this as an opportunity, not only for myself, but also for the business she had left behind. In a way, both the gardens and I were getting a second chance. Part of me hoped that by reviving the business, I could revive something in myself as well.

  From the corner of my eye, I saw another fat envelope bursting at the seams. A different law office’s name was printed starkly across it. While the letter in my hand boasted of inheritance and possibility, the one still on the nightstand harbored cold sentences that somehow managed to spell out only one word: divorce. I hastily shoved the second envelope into my handbag on the bed. The past was crammed into the back corners of my mind along with other cobweb-coated memories of unpleasantness.

  A fresh breath of freedom filled my lungs. I quickly changed out of my bathrobe and into a tank top and a pair of jeans. Then I hauled my bulging luggage out to the car and came back for one final check.

  The tiny, little one-bedroom apartment that I had once thought of as cozy now only reminded me of a shell that had been outgrown by a scuttling crab. My eyes traced the edges of the rooms to make sure I wasn’t leaving any of myself behind. When I moved, I wanted it to be in one fell swoop. There was no going back from this decision. A shiver crept along my spine. Maybe it was my sense of approaching adventure, or maybe it was just the breeze in my damp hair. Fighting back any jitters, I locked the door behind me for the last time. The click of the lock sealed my fate for what was yet to come. I was free.

  Chapter 2

  The drive to Little River was clogged with evening traffic. Each mile put the dry, dusty streets of my old town of Winchester further behind me. My desire to get settled for the night was overpowered by my enthusiasm to see the tea garden. I followed the directions sent to me by my grandmother’s lawyer, until my breaks squeaked to a halt outside of a derelict gate. As I climbed out of my car, my heart sank for the first time since making my decision to leave everything behind. Cold metal bars nipped at my palms as I clutched the gate and peered through to the garden on the other side.

  Stone walkways eaten with weeds stretched over and around rolling hills. Bubbles mumbled glumly to the koi that swam in a pond blanketed with algae. Little bridges draped themselves in snaggle-toothed frowns over the water. Stalks of bamboo battered one another in the wind, fighting for space and sustenance. A waterfall tripped over itself further back. A large pagoda hid its window eyes behind wooden planks as if to shelter itself from the sad state of the gardens sprawling before it. The disrepair retreated into more secluded areas behind some trees where my eyes could not follow.

  The state of the gardens was much worse than the lawyer had led me to believe. A swirl of foolishness twisted in my belly. I had left behind a stable
job and everyone I knew for the uncertainty of the tea garden. Did I have enough savings to make it until the gardens started to turn a profit? Anxiety crept into the back of my mind. The extent of work needed to get the gardens back up and running threatened to overwhelm me.

  With a deep breath, I climbed back into my car. A glimpse of my red hair from the corner of my eye caught my attention. The mousey Maddie from before would have caved under the pressure. The new me had to be better. Believing in myself was the first step to making my dreams a reality. Forcing my chin up higher, I drove a little further down the street to the driveway of my grandmother’s house.

  Even in the gathering dark, I could see the outline of the old Victorian houses at this end of the road. Stately verandas squinted condescendingly as my high beams swept over them. Ancient trees plunged their roots deep into the earth. The shadows around them thickened under the blanket of their leaves. Through some gaps in the houses, I could just make out a river with a walkway winding behind the street on the opposite side. My lights came to rest upon my destination.

  The paint was chipping along the siding, and a moth-eaten screen door sagged at the edges. A porch swing creaked a weathered greeting as I lugged my baggage up the steps. My stiff fingers grabbed the envelope from Mr. Bailey’s law office and shook a small metal object into my palm. After a little persuasive wiggling, the key slipped into the door knob and turned with a sharp click.

  Holding my breath, I slid my hand along the wall just inside the doorway. My fingers brushed against a plastic nub. I bit my bottom lip as I gave the switch a flick. Light! The breath I had been holding gushed out in relief. At least my call to the electric company had been fruitful. It was a small blessing, but I was thankful none the less. My thankfulness was soon overshadowed by the interior of the house.

  The overhead light flickered—either a sign of poor wiring or an almost expired bulb. Cobwebs formed an intricate lace pattern in the corners of the vaulted ceiling. The staircase seemed to be missing several balusters. Scuffed and warped floors bubbled along the entrance and living room. Dust floated through the air and danced in the flickering light. Strips of wallpaper waved happily at a new guest.

  With each additional needed repair I noticed, I could feel my wallet seize at the thought of the cost. How had my grandmother lived here? I crossed the living room to a beautiful old fireplace. My fingers skimmed the mantle and came away coated in soft, brown powder. I hadn’t planned on keeping the house. I was prepared to sort through my grandmother’s things and tidy up before trying to put the house on the market, but even that seemed like an extensive endeavor now. The plan was to use the money from selling the house to get myself settled into a small, cheap apartment. By the looks of things, I was going to be staying in the house for quite a while until I made the place marketable. Groaning inwardly, I made my way to the kitchen.

  Water sputtered from the tap after I turned the knob on the sink. Another small blessing. At least I would have water and electricity tonight. I splashed my face with the cool water. With clean hands and a refreshed spirit, I set off to find a bedroom to stow my things in.

  The stairs creaked under my feet. The second-floor landing made my heart race faster. Without knowing how I knew it, I sensed that my grandmother’s room was at the end of the hall to the right. I wasn’t ready to face her personal items just yet. My feet carried me to the other end of the hall. After checking a few rooms, I found the one in the best condition and rolled my luggage inside.

  The furniture was covered with white sheets. Once I got the covers off, the furniture underneath proved to be in decent condition and far less dusty than the rest of the house.

  A tree limb raked against the window pane with gnarly fingers and made me jump. I clutched my chest childishly. A startled laugh escaped my mouth. Maybe it was the fact that I was alone in a new place that had me in so many knots, or maybe it was the fact that only a few yards down the hall was where my grandmother had died, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that something secretive lurked in the shadows of this old home. Another chill ran up my spine. This one had nothing to do with damp hair.

  “Get ahold of yourself, Maddie,” I chided myself.

  My eyes focused back on my surroundings. The only way to take care of a job this big was to clean the house one room at a time. I knew myself well enough to know that once I had something to show for my efforts, some of the anxiety over the situation would fade away. It was too late to start tonight, and I was stiff from the drive. I fought the urge to glance at my phone. I knew there would be no new messages, no missed calls. My friends and family back in Winchester understood that I would be very busy settling into the new town. No one would check on me for awhile. Least of all Drake, my ex-husband.

  I changed into a pair of pajamas with little cats printed all over them and went straight to bed. The pillow was shallow under my head. Sleeping in a strange bed had never unsettled me quite this much. Sighing, I shoved my arms under my head and tried to fall asleep. After listening to the wind moving through the cracks in the house, and straining to hear any sign of an intruder—supernatural or otherwise—I eventually fell into a restless sleep. Worries ate away at me even in my dreams.

  The next morning, a jarring alarm startled me out of my fitful sleep. Scrambling around the room to find the source of the sound, my fingers closed around my phone. It had somehow fallen between the bed and the wall during the night. My thundering heart started to slow. The disorientation of waking up so suddenly faded gradually. My grandmother’s house. The tea garden. Reassuring memories steadied my hands. I let out a shaky breath.

  Planting my feet on the warped floor, I stood up and stretched. Saturday morning sunshine filtered through the lace curtains. The house might not look as menacing in the daytime, but the dust was more visible. I dressed and decided to skip breakfast. Locating some cleaning supplies in a closet, I planned to start with the room I was sleeping in. I was hoping that a cleaner room would allow for better rest. With most of the work still ahead of me, adequate sleep was a must. I also hoped doing a bit of tidying up would help me shake the unease I felt when moving around the unfamiliar old house.

  I spent the weekend herding dust bunnies, mopping floors, and cleaning away cobwebs.

  By the time Sunday night came, the main rooms of the home were livable. My back was thankful for the mattress when I finally lay down. Even a bean bag would have felt like a feather bed at that point. As I lay awake, I thought that with the house in a more manageable state, I could turn my attention to the tea garden next. I needed to get it ready for paying visitors before I burned through my savings. My future depended on the business being able to turn a profit. Sleep weighed down my eyelids as I resigned myself to deal with that on Monday.

  Chapter 3

  Monday morning was marked with a rushed shower and a phone call to someone the law office had given me contact information for. The trilling line made me anxious. I paced back and forth across my bedroom floor, mentally reciting the message I would leave. Unfortunately, I was never given the chance.

  “Hello?” A pleasant but surprised female voice answered the phone.

  My heart skipped a beat. “Oh! Sorry, I really wasn’t expecting anyone to answer. My name is Maddie Morgan, and I’m—”

  “You’re Mrs. Matsuki’s granddaughter. I know who you are. How can I help you?”

  To remember her name, I glanced at the paper her number was scrawled on. “Well, Kelly, I was hoping maybe you could meet me at the tea garden today sometime? The lawyer told me you used to work with my grandmother, and I was hoping you could give me a better idea of what needs to be done to get the place back up and running.”

  “Sure, yeah. I would love to. Give me a few minutes to get ready, and I’ll meet you there.”

  “Really? That would be great. Thank you. I’ll see you soon.”

  “I’ll be there!”

  The ease of the conversation set a light tone for the day. This Kelly had sounded warm a
nd accommodating over the phone. Pleased with how I had handled the situation, I grabbed my keys and headed for the door. The stairs creaked a final goodbye to me as I left the house. The sunlight and fresh air was a welcome change to the dreary interior. It was true that it was more livable now, but it still didn’t feel like home.

  My tires spun on some loose rocks as I backed out of the driveway and drove towards the garden. It wasn’t really necessary to drive when the garden was attached to the property, but the front entrance was down the street and would’ve taken me a few minutes to walk to. It would be handier to take the car and park in the visitor parking lot.

  I scrolled through crackling radio stations before landing on an upbeat song. My little car was the only vehicle out front when I pulled up. I must have beaten Kelly to the scene. Not wanting to waste a moment, I clambered out of my car and decided to have a look around in the daylight.

  The gate swung open with a rusty squeal. That would be an easy enough fix. The rest of the garden, not so much. A childlike sense of adventure filled me as I stepped through the gate into the garden. Even in disarray, the tea garden seemed to transport me to another land. My grandmother had really poured her heart and soul into every detail. It was a shame that it had fallen into such bad shape. As I spent a few minutes wandering the green paths, Japanese culture seemed to sing through the shady trees. A light smile rested happily on my lips.