SLAY PAIRS WITH ROSE (The Kelly's Deli Cozy Murder Mysteries Book 3) by Sophie Brent (books to read as a couple txt) 📗

Oh no. It must be broken.

Her eyes refused to open so she pulled the pillow down over her ears to try and block out the sound.

No. Still ringing.

Creaking open one eye, Erin peered at the illuminated dial on the clock and blinked. One fifteen. Why had she set her alarm to go off at this time in the morning? It was still dark outside.

Propping herself up on one elbow she looked around the room. Her bedroom window was wide open to try and ventilate the stuffy bedroom. Strange. The sound seemed to be coming from her street outside.

Blinking hard to try and clear the sleep from her eyes, Erin slipped off the bed and walked slowly over to the bedroom window, yawning widely.

Pulling back the curtain, she looked onto the lane and was instantly awake.

The front headlights on her white van were flashing out a warning.

The alarm clock wasn’t broken after all. The sound she could hear was the car alarm in her van! Someone had tried to steal it!

Erin skipped down the narrow stairs to the deli in her slippers and quickly tied her dressing gown at the waist. She unlocked the kitchen door and turned on all of the lights so that the patio was well lit. It only took a quick glance for her to see that whoever had set the alarm off had already vanished, probably across the village green and into the winding streets beyond.

Pausing for a second before stepping outside, Erin rummaged around in the back of the storeroom until she found her large emergency flashlight and a heavy wooden rolling pin.

“Erin?” Matt’s voice called out from the bookshop patio only a few yards away. “Are you okay?”

“Still half asleep, but otherwise I’m fine,” she yawned and walked slowly out onto the stone flags to take a better look down the lane. “How long has the alarm been going off?”

“At least ten minutes,” he replied. “I’ve already called the police and they’re on their way. I’m sorry, Erin. It looks like someone has vandalized your van. It has been keyed all down the passenger side and all over the bonnet.”

“What!” She jogged down the steps, flung open her gate and was onto the lane in seconds. Her fingers were so nervous that she struggled to turn on her flashlight until she was almost at the van.

What she saw in the beam of bright white light made her feel sick.

“Oh no, no, no.”  Bending over at the waist, Erin inhaled several deep breaths as the bottom fell out of her stomach.

The side window of her dad’s precious van had been smashed and the nearest front headlight was broken. From where she was standing, it was obvious that the van was leaning slightly because both of the tires had been slashed.

The paintwork had not just been keyed, deep gouges had been cut into the metal by someone who had intended to cause as much damage as possible.

“Best not to touch anything before the police arrive,” Matt whispered as he came to stand next to the van.

“Who would do this?” Erin cried out into the quiet night air as she slowly stood upright. “Seriously! I cannot believe that this happened right outside my back door! My poor van!”

She stepped closer to shine her flashlight through the smashed side window. And froze.

A sheet of paper was lying on the front seat with a heavy stone on top.  The edges were flapping slightly in the light breeze.

She swallowed down apprehension and moved slowly forwards, scanning the village green and the lane in the light from the streetlamp and her torch.  There was no sign of anyone around.  This part of the lane was always quiet and hidden from the main street.

The paper looked like a sheet of plain typing paper.

But that was not what drew Erin’s attention.

At the centre of the sheet was a colour photograph which had been printed onto the page.  Some part of her brain registered that it was a clever idea.  Photo prints could be traced to negatives.  But a digital image?  Not unless they left fingerprints.

So, what new version of intimidation was this?

Erin inhaled deeply and swung the door half open with her elbow so that she could see the photograph more clearly.

It was a snapshot of Kelly’s deli. She could remember exactly when it was taken since it was printed in most of the local newspapers. Last summer, the annual Kingsmede summer fête had included all of the local restaurants and bistros, including Kelly’s. It was one of those rare occasions when Carol, Prisha, and Erin were standing outside together in the sunshine, smiling into the camera while Zoe took the photograph.

A large red X had been marked on the centre of Erin’s head.  And on the white paper above it, a message had been scrawled out in irregular capitals.  It was written in what looked like red marker pen in capital letters.  Waxy.  Blood red.

But it was not the colour that sent a shiver across Erin’s shoulders. It was the words.

“Let the dead stay buried.  Or more will die.  Got the message?”

She watched the blood pulse hard in the veins on Matt’s neck as he scanned the note. “Constable Harris is going to love this!  We’ve got them running scared, so they try and get personal.  It’s the oldest trick in the book… and the best sign so far that whoever did this is still right here in Kingsmede.”

“So, you agree that Emma was murdered?” Erin asked.

Matt glanced once at the paper and nodded. “Oh yes. You were right to question what happened. Emma Wilson didn’t just slip in that freezer. She was murdered. No doubt about it now.”

Chapter Twelve

“I still cannot believe that you