Pepper, the Biker & the Vanishing Body (Pepper the Prepper Mystery #3)

Pepper, the Biker & the Vanishing Body (Pepper the Prepper Mystery #3)

By Donna Fletcher

Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

“ T ales from the Crypt.”

“Now there’s a spooky thought,” Ian said “Some of those shows frightened me senseless when I was young. So, Pep, does that reference mean you’re too frightened to find out why the mausoleum door is ajar and no one is around?”

“Are you kidding?” I asked, and Ian’s gorgeous grin told me he was doing just that, teasing me, and curiosity had me walking toward the Willow family crypt.

“It’s a perfect setting for the opening of a book,” Ian said as he walked beside me. “The eerie silence, moss gathered on weathered tombstones,” —he gave a quick glance overhead— “dark foreboding clouds, and a creeping mist in the far corner of the cemetery that could devour us at any moment.”

I stopped and looked around the area before my gaze returned to the mausoleum. It suddenly seemed taller and more ominous, ivy clinging to the stone as if keeping it prisoner. The wrought-iron fence encircling it looked equally imprisoning. Though the gate was firmly closed, the door stood ominously ajar. A flicker of doubt crossed my mind about going inside. Only a flicker.

“Let’s go and see what the opening scene reads like,” I said.

Ian grabbed me playfully around the waist and hugged me, “I love your adventurous soul.” His smile turned into light laughter. “Though more so when you’re with me since you can be far too dangerous on your own.”

I went to argue, then realized he was right and was teasing me once again. I wiggled out of his hug, though I would have preferred to stay there, then I took hold of his hand and tugged him along with me. I still found it difficult to believe that Ian and I were a couple. He is a gorgeous romance book cover model, tall and cover-model hunky, and I’m a prepper, skinny, not by choice but by nature, and I am all of five feet four inches, and yet we fit perfectly together but that’s because we have shared interests. We both love old suspense and mystery movies and ditto with old books. And did I mention he’s from Scotland and has a Scottish brogue, not too heavy thankfully since I would not understand a word he said. How we work so well together I don’t know, but I am sure glad we do.

“Cue the thunder.” Ian teased, as we reached the mausoleum.

A crack of thunder rumbled overhead, and we froze.

“Now you’ve gone and done it,” I warned. “We’re bound to find a dead body in there.”

“There are probably several dead bodies in there, Pep. It’s a family mausoleum.”

“I mean a body that doesn’t belong there, wise guy.”

He planted a quick kiss on my cheek. “We’ve watched too many suspense films lately. It’s probably just a caretaker or visitor who forgot to lock up. Let’s check it out and then let the cemetery staff know. We may have to leave after that?—”

“But we haven’t visited your Uncle Max’s grave and my Aunt Effie’s grave yet, our reason for coming here in the first place,” I protested.

Ian pointed to a spot on the road that wound through the cemetery.

“Oh, I forgot we got here on your motorcycle.”

His Harley was a sleek beauty, and I had to admit I enjoyed riding on it with him. He even looked the part of a biker in his black leather jacket, though it was mostly for a photo shoot. A famous romance author had commissioned a series of motorcycle club covers, and I loved the temporary tattoos he was sporting for them.

“The sun was shining when we left and there’s no call for rain,” Ian said.

“Except you said cue the thunder,” I reminded.

Ian chuckled. “Ah dinnae have that much power, Pep.”

“We need to rewrite the scene,” I said and proceeded to do just that. “The sun shined brightly as the couple emerged from the mausoleum.”

“And the day turned as beautiful as the woman,” Ian added.

“We’re not writing a romance,” I reminded, his soft smile making my heart thud and darn if that didn’t sound like a scene out of one of the romance books Amy, my best friend since kindergarten, devoured.

“We could,” he said with a wicked glint in his eye.

“Who gets to write the love scenes?” I asked playfully.

He grabbed me around the waist and plastered me against him. “We write them together.”

Okay, I admit it, my stomach fluttered with that one.

Ian went to kiss me and stopped, both our eyes narrowing.

“Was that the wind or a groan?” I asked, having heard something but not sure what it was.

“Let’s check this mausoleum out and get done with it,” Ian said and took the lead, keeping hold of my hand.

Okay, I admit it. I inched forward with some trepidation to the mausoleum after hearing what sounded like a groan. After all ghosts do groan, not that I ever met one, but there is a first time for everything.

Ian pushed the heavy door open wider with his shoulder and I followed in close behind him, my hand still clutched to his.

Dead silence greeted us as we entered the crypt, and our eyes went immediately to the three tombs that sat centered in the room.

The middle tomb had been carved with meticulous detail, its surface having retained a lustrous sheen, bearing testament to the craftsmanship of a bygone era. Delicate vines of ivy and roses, sculpted in exquisite relief, adorned its sides, offering a subtle touch of natural beauty to the otherwise austere setting. Lit by a soft, filtered light that streamed through a small stained-glass window, the tomb exuded an air of timeless reverence and the love for the first person enshrined there.

I repeated the words all who grew up in Willow Lake knew by heart about the Willow family mausoleum. “The middle tomb holds Verbena Willow, the daughter of the founding father of the town, Ignatius Willow. She died young. The mausoleum was erected by her father on family land which was donated to the church so that her final resting place would remain undisturbed and not be moved or lost through the years as is the fate of many old cemeteries. The two tombs to the sides of Verbena contain her mom and dad.”

We remained where we were in silence for a few moments out of reverence for the departed and I let my glance wander. I let out a gasp seeing the damage done to marble columns, pieces broken off them and vases that once sat atop marble stands now gone. The iron candle stands tucked in the corners were knocked over.

“Only a soulless person could damage and loot a mausoleum,” Ian said.

“There is nothing of true value here to steal,” I said, annoyed that someone could be so disrespectful.

“There is a market for everything and anything nowadays, Pep. It would be interesting to see what a marble urn from an old mausoleum would bring.”

I shuddered. “That’s creepy. We should see if any damage has been done beyond the three tombs, then I’ll call my dad and report the break-in.”

Ian nodded and walked around the right side of the tombs while I went to the left.

I stopped at the same time Ian did when we rounded the tombs.

I couldn’t help but say, “I told you we’d find a body.”

Sure enough, a man lay lifeless under the stained-glass window. He lay on his side, his arm partially concealing his face. His jeans appeared worn and in need of washing and it was the same for his black, hooded sweatshirt. His hair was a dull shade of brown and looked to be about shoulder length. And I noticed he wore black biker boots.

I went to step closer, but Ian beat me to it.

He nudged the guy’s leg with the tip of his boot. “Hey, mate, wake up.”

The guy’s arm dropped off his face, a face as pale as a ghost. His eyes were closed, and there was a bruise on his jaw. He had scruff on his face from lack of shaving or the beginnings of a beard and age-wise I figured him for somewhere in his late twenties to early thirties.

Ian took a step back. “We shouldn’t touch anything, Pep. This is for your da to see to.”

I said the obvious. “He looks dead.”

“Then we better not disturb the scene any more than we already have,” Ian said and slipped his cell out of his jacket. “We need to go outside and ring your da since there’s no cell service in here.”

My curiosity had me wanting to examine the scene more thoroughly, but Ian was right. We had to call my dad, Sheriff Madison, and report this.

I was about to tell him I’d wait there, and he could go call my dad, wanting time to examine the scene better, when he started shaking his head at me.

“I am not leaving you here alone in a mausoleum with a guy that appears dead but may not be.”

I turned my head so fast to give the guy another glance that I felt a pull in my neck. He wasn’t moving, not even the slightest and his sweatshirt was too baggy to be able to see if his chest rose and fell. No sound came from him, but that groan we had heard could have come from him or it could have been nothing more than wind groaning through the tree branches and headstones.

“Maybe we should see if he’s still alive,” I suggested then thought about what Ian said and shook my head. “Like you said, not a good idea to touch him.”

“We need to report this and get him medical attention if he is alive,” Ian said. “And I know you want to wait here to see what more you can gleam from the scene, but I would worry you’d somehow get yourself into trouble since you have a penchant for attracting it.”

“It is a mausoleum that houses dead people. What trouble could I get into?”

“Ah dinnae know, and ah dinnae want to find out, so spare me the worry and step outside with me while I make the emergency call to the police, then we can return here, and you can?—”

“Photos. We should snap a few photos first,” I said, reaching for his cell since I forgot to bring mine.

Ian snatched his hand out of reach. “First, we report it and get help here fast, then we take photos, or do you want your da’s white hair to grow ever whiter?”

My dad was always reminding me that I was the reason his hair turned white which it had been for years, though I suppose there was a smidgen of truth to it. Ian’s reminder also reminded me that this could possibly be a crime scene, and I had to respect that.

We stepped outside and had to walk down to where Ian had parked his bike to get a signal, but I kept the mausoleum in view the whole time, wanting to make certain no one entered it. As soon as he finished the call, we spotted the flashing red lights of a patrol car. There was no way a patrol car got here that fast from the call Ian had just made.

Ian must have agreed since he turned and looked at me with a raised brow.

“I agree. That patrol car isn’t from our call,” I said, voicing our identical thoughts.

Of course, it had to be my brother, Josh, one of three brothers and a Willow Lake police officer for almost eight years now, who got out of the patrol car.

“How am I not surprised to see you at a call for a possible mausoleum break-in?” Josh asked with an amused grin as he folded his arms across his chest and leaned against his patrol car after getting out.

“You got a call about a mausoleum break-in?” I asked.

“Yeah, the caller said a biker and his old lady had broken into the Willow family mausoleum,” Josh confirmed with a nod, his grin growing broader.

“The mausoleum was open?—”

“And, of course, you just had to go poking around inside,” Josh said, not letting me finish.

“We found a body in there,” Ian said.

“What?” Josh snapped. “Why didn’t you say that right away?”

He pushed himself off the car and hurried to the mausoleum as sirens sounded and the flashing lights of another patrol car and ambulance entered the cemetery. I hurried after my brother, knowing once reinforcements got here, I’d be locked out of the mausoleum, and I wanted to get another look at the possible crime scene since there was no chance of taking photos now. Something bothered me about it, but I couldn’t figure out what it was.

Ian joined me, just as curious as I was and wise enough to know we had only so much time before we were relegated to spectators.

Josh stepped out the door when we caught up with him.

“What’s going on, Pepper? I know you wouldn’t make a prank call to the police, so where is this body you claim you found?”

I pushed past him to hurry inside and around the tombs to stand staring at the place where the body had been but was no longer there.

“He was right there,” Ian said, having followed me in and pointing to the spot under the stained-glass window. “We both saw him.”

“Dead guys don’t get up and walk away,” Josh said. “Maybe it was someone sleeping off a drunk.”

“What a remarkable conclusion, Sherlock,” I said. “But you don’t have all the facts.”

Ian took it from there. “The fellow was pale, and he had a bruise on his chin like someone had landed a solid blow on him.”

I jumped back in. “And if that isn’t enough, I’d like to know how he got out of here without us seeing him. I kept an eye on the place after leaving here to make sure no one disturbed a possible crime scene.”

“The only crime I detect is the looting of the mausoleum,” Josh said.

“And the dead body?” I argued.

Josh spread his arms wide. “Where is this possible dead body, Pepper? Show me,” Josh said.

“What’s going on here?”

We all turned to see my dad standing in the open doorway.

“Pepper and Ian insist there was a possible dead body here, and if it was just Pepper saying that I would think she’d been seeing things, but Ian saw it as well so I can only surmise that the body somehow vanished, or the guy wasn’t dead and got up and walked away,” Josh explained.

My dad walked over to us and looked around. “No blood, no fibers of any kind, no signs at all that might substantiate their claim?”

Josh shook his head. “Nothing that I could see.”

“No photos, Pepper?” my dad asked.

“I should have thought to ask that,” Josh said, annoyed at himself.

My family knew me well.

“My fault,” Ian said, a look of apology in his blue eyes when he turned them on me. “I wanted to report it first, then we were going to snap some photos. Now I regret not listening to Pep.”

“A photo certainly would have helped but I can’t fault you for doing the right thing and reporting it first,” my dad said. “Unfortunately, without a body there isn’t anything we can do.”

“Maybe the body will pop up again, Pepper,” Josh teased. “If it does, make sure to take photos.”

I turned an evil look on him, but it only made him grin.

“There is the looted mausoleum to consider,” Ian said, and I could have kissed him.

“Weren’t you sent here to investigate the mausoleum being open, Josh?” I asked and grinned.

“We found the mausoleum door ajar,” Ian explained with a look at my dad.

“And, of course, Pepper had to investigate,” my dad said.

“To be fair, Sheriff, so did I,” Ian said.

I loved that my boyfriend never failed to come to my defense. He was a true hero and secretly I think my dad admired that about him as well.

“Watch out, Ian, or my sister will have you mixed up in her half-baked crime hypothesis sooner or later,” Josh warned with a laugh.

Ian smiled. “I hope so, mate, since it makes for an interesting relationship.”

“Enough with teasing your sister, Josh. Do your job and take their statements,” my dad ordered. “And be sure to include the description of the body they saw just in case it pops up someplace else and talk to Dan, the cemetery caretaker. Find out what was stolen from the mausoleum and the damage done.” My dad took off his police hat and ran his fingers through his hair. “I know you well, Pepper. You intend to find out how that body vanished, don’t you?”

I grinned. “You’re darn right I am.”

If ads affect your reading experience, click here to remove ads on this page.