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    Antiques To Die For
    Antiques To Die For
    Antiques To Die For
    Ebook114 pages57 minutes

    Antiques To Die For

    By Peyton Stone

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    About this ebook

    Cats, haikus and cadavers—amateur sleuth Lola didn't expect that her new inheritance would come with such killer poetry.

     

    Lola thought she'd find the island's small-town peace when she returned to inherit the coveted antique shop. But between a snarky telepathic cat compelled to pen poems about the deserving dead and a trail of chilling haikus left on murder victims, peace and quiet may be too much to ask…

     

    When the handsome out-of-town detective arrives to lead the investigation, Lola vows to solve the case and clear her name before she's the next to end up in the killer's rhyming couplet. 

     

    With gossip spreading faster than facts between her friends and the locals, Lola will have to learn the truth behind the poetic murders quickly, before she's the next to fall victim and become the talk of the town's wagging tongues.

     

    For an empath whose cat has a direct line to her own mind, it's all in a day's work, though Lola could do without the impromptu eulogies. 

    Karma may love a good haiku, but Lola is more of a free verse kind of girl…

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherPeyton Stone
    Release dateJun 1, 2023
    ISBN9798223699408
    Antiques To Die For

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      Book preview

      Antiques To Die For - Peyton Stone

      Prologue

      Iam Jade, a descendant of an ancient line of mystical Albino Siamese cats known as Companions. My kind were imbued with human-like intellect, longevity, and supernatural senses centuries ago by a coven of witches in a remote Siam village. Our purpose: to advise and protect the descendants of the lead witch, Astrid Hutchinson, with whom we share a profound, symbiotic bond.

      Empowered by Aunt Elena's dying magic, I made the arduous journey, guided only by the pull of destiny and an unbreakable familial bond. Weak and bedraggled, I searched tirelessly until that fateful night in the alleyway when I finally crossed paths with Lola. But even in that profound moment of connection, I sensed a darkness looming over Lola's path.

      Though I may appear to be just a cat to the world, Lola will come to understand the true depth of our connection. She will learn to hear my voice, to read the secrets in my enigmatic gaze. For I am more than a mere pet; I am her Companion, her protector, and her guide through the uncertain days ahead. ​​With me by her side, she will learn to embrace her destiny and uncover the truth of her family's legacy and the role she must play in the battles to come.

      I am Karma’s antithesis.

      CHAPTER 1

      S ometimes, I hear voices in my head. I've always believed it was God, but now I have doubts. I am not satisfied with my life as is; rather, the satisfaction of doing what is right drives me. The night is dark for those who remain silent in the face of injustice. This is the beginning of my work.

      I am Karma.

      image-placeholder

      "The withered flower,

      deceiving of one’s own self,

      justice blooms for them."

      This is a haiku, right, Jax? Lola Hutchinson asked her twin brother as she tossed Jaramillo's News onto their late aunt's quilted comforter. A bold headline and a photo of a scripted note dominated the front page of the local paper.

      The haiku left at the murder scene either served as a cryptic warning or a message. The Japanese poem consisted of three lines: five syllables in the first line, seven in the second, and five in the third. Several pages of the story highlighted the haiku-leaving killer.

      Yes, Sister, it is. The killer doesn’t seem to be a dim-witted person, huh? Jax replied, somewhat impressed with the killer’s skill.

      The twins sat on the bed in their aunt’s old loft above the antique shop in Jaramillo, the quaint island village where they had grown up. Lola returned after getting the call about her aunt’s sudden death. Her suitcases sat in the room, waiting for Lola to make the permanent move to unpack them.

      After their mother passed away, Jax inherited their parents' ranch home on the island's outskirts. Lola now owned the antique shop with a quaint and roomy loft nestled on top. Her struggling writing career in the big city left her more than ready for a new start.

      Lola's late aunt left her a secure and profitable business in her trust. This change of scenery was what Lola needed at that time in her life. She felt almost too thankful for the news of her aunt's passing. The twins' relationship with their aunt waned once they left the island to jumpstart their writing careers. As the only living relatives, Lola and her twin were the sole heirs to their family's estate on the island.

      Jaramillo became the place to unwind, start over, and forget about one’s life and worries. Despite its small population, this charming island village buzzed with tourists like a beehive when winter hit the mainland. The year-round perfect weather beckoned visitors to bask in the sun's rays, melting their sorrows away. It also provided the ideal setting for murder.

      At the salon, the ladies talk nonstop about nothing else, you know? Jax rolled his eyes. He sniffed some of Lola’s clothes out of the now open case. The old ladies proposed theories on who the murderer might be because of the haiku. They also keep chatting about a detective arriving in a few days.

      Detective?

      Yeah, old man, Garcia, called in the big dogs. Jax grimaced and tossed the shirts back into the suitcase. Since I started working at the hair salon three years ago, Jax continued, rummaging through the other garments. After another bust with my book, it's like I've become the island's therapist or something.

      Jax groaned and collapsed on the bed, the half-empty suitcase lying open beside them.I should’ve stayed longer on the mainland with you, Sis. This place has changed.

      No, you shouldn't of. Lola snickered. So, who do the ladies at the hair salon suspect? Lola asked, grinning ear to ear as she grabbed her most coveted crochet bag and placed it on the dresser. What should I start on next? She pondered, gazing at the bright ginger yarn ball. Its strands hung over the side of the worn-out beige tote as if teasing her.

      'I want you to take me there, Lola. Old ladies plus a cat, I'll be a queen. I hope they don't bring any poodle dogs,' purred Jade, manifesting as a voice in Lola’s head. Jax paid the pure white, silky, long-haired Siamese cat no mind as she sauntered into the bedroom. Lola shot her a puzzled look. That cat says the darndest things.

      Unaware of Jade’s telepathic interruption, Jax continued, It’s more like, who don’t they suspect? The poor, unfortunate soul is Daniel Smith. The cabby who brought you home the day before yesterday, actually. Do you remember?

      Lola remembered and nodded. She paused, shirt in hand, staring at it. A beat passed, and she folded it and placed it in the drawer, recalling the kind cabby. After arriving on the island, Daniel drove her to Jax’s home two days ago. She vaguely remembered seeing a taxi driver's identification card on the back of the driver’s seat that had said, ‘Daniel’. It was eerie that he was now dead. She couldn't help but wonder if she was the last person to see him alive.

      Yeah, the ladies at the salon, especially Janet—mom's old piano teacher—wouldn't stop gossiping about Daniel hooking up with his best friend's wife. Their divorce just happened last month. Jax's hands flopped on the bed, mimicking a petulant child.

      Lola stopped unpacking and looked at her brother with curious, wide emerald eyes. So, who are they saying might be the killer, Jax? Lola pressed.

      They think it might be poor, heartbroken Richard. Jax sat up on his elbows to meet her gaze with his matching vivid green eyes. If you didn’t notice, the haiku says something about betrayal. Of course, he slumped back, I think the police will suspect him first. I’m sure of it. Although, there's something that doesn't quite add up for me.

      What doesn’t?

      Richard wrote. He was starting a career in writing. I know because we met at the writing club on Tuesdays. Jax held up a hand as Lola's head jerked around. I know, I know, Jax sighed.

      Lola glared at him, a few strands of auburn-streaked hairs catching in her eyelashes. Lola wasn’t in the mood to hear about another novel Jax failed to complete. He knew it, too. Despite getting book advances and, at one point, even a book tour scheduled from his novel's outline alone. Now, book publishers avoid him like the plague.

      He was terrible, Lola. I can't imagine him writing a complex haiku. Richard writes action stories or fantasies with dragons. He shook his head in disbelief, folding his arms over his forehead.

      'Dragons? The fire-breathing long dogs you've shown me in your books?' asked Jade, leaping onto the dresser.

      Lola smiled and bobbed her head from side to side. The feline wasn't too far off. Jax quirked an eyebrow and peeked at her from under his arm. He glanced at the white cat eyeballing the orange strands of yarn atop the mahogany dresser. Though Jax didn't hear what amused Lola, he suspected Jade had made one of her strange comments.

      Well, I guess you would know, Jax, you've been here longer than me, Lola replied, tucking the flyaway strands behind her ear. She tossed her flip-flops at

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