Page 1 of Hook, Line and Mystery

PROLOGUE

Whoever said life was a mystery to be lived and not a problem to be solved was only half right. Life should always be lived to the fullest but unsolved murders and other mysteries are most definitely both.

CHAPTER1

ABBY

Chicago, Illinois

“Arrgghh! Talk to me,” Abby Jennings snarled at her silent laptop. The laptop didn’t answer. She picked it up and thought about shaking it but realized only she would care. After all, the stupid thing was just an inanimate object.

She sat ensconced amid a fortress of papers, coffee mugs, and discarded sticky notes, her slender fingers drumming on the desk. The relentless blink of the cursor on her laptop seemed to mock her, a silent metronome marking the tempo of her escalating distress. She leaned forward, elbows resting on the cool wood, and raked a hand through her tawny hair. A silk-knit V-neck sweater in shades of red and orange clung to her frame, its cheerful color at odds with the somber mood that shrouded the room. Her leggings, usually a comfort, now felt more like restraints as she shifted in the chair that had become her cell.

She lifted her head and looked at her surroundings. Her loft was modest in size but was filled with light, owing to the wall of floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Lake Michigan. She’d chosen location over size when buying her first place and normally it was her haven for creativity. Now, it seemed to close in on her. The odor of stale coffee lingered in the air, mingling with the faint mustiness of books that lined the vintage library shelves that adorned another wall. Sunlight filtered through the half-drawn blinds, casting stripes across the hardwood floor and the disarray of notes that carpeted the floor around her desk.

Peering at the daunting blank screen of her laptop again, Abby was vaguely disappointed that somehow, magically, no brilliant prose had populated it. The weight of her impending deadline was bearing down on her like a dark cloud ready to burst. Her fingers were poised over the keyboard, hesitant and uncertain. She could feel her heartbeat quicken to a crescendo that threatened to overwhelm the noisy sounds of the city beyond her window. Her usual lively, imaginative spirit felt trapped, caged by the confines of her own anxieties and the suffocating walls of her loft.

The sharp trill of her phone startled her as it sliced through the thick atmosphere of her anxiety. She flinched, then reached out with a tentative hand, plucking the device from the disarray of her desk, which sometimes seemed to parallel her life. It slipped through her fingers and fell on the floor, somehow engaging the speaker button.

“Hey, Abby.” Lori Sykes’s voice floated from the floor as Abby picked her phone up and placed it gently on her desk.

Abby smiled. She and Lori were of a similar age and background. They’d been roommates in college. Both held a master’s in education. Both had found that teaching, while rewarding, had the ability to suck the soul out of the most dedicated educator. Both had found solace and some success in writing—Lori more than Abby, but there was no rivalry between them—only friendship and support.

A flutter whirled within her chest, and she found it easier to breathe as the sound of her friend’s voice provided an ease to the tightness that constricted her thoughts.

“Lori. Hi,” Abby exhaled, her gaze still transfixed by the unyielding blank screen before her. “I’m so glad you called.”

“Writer’s block again? Looking for a distraction?” Lori’s chuckle was a warm embrace.

“You know me well, old friend. I’m suffocating under a blanket of nothingness.” Abby tilted her head back, allowing a sliver of light to catch the green flecks in her eyes.

“That’s not good,” Lori’s concern was evident in her voice. “You need to break free, Abby. You need fresh air, new sights. Remember the Lighthouse Bed & Breakfast in Badger’s Drift that I told you about? My friend Jessica Murdoch went there to break her own writer’s block.”

“I don’t know that a change of scenery will do it.”

“Maybe; maybe not, but it worked for Jessica. She lives in Badger’s Drift, but still found a change in setting to be of help. The town and the B&B are both quaint and offer true inspiration, not to mention a hunky detective.”

Abby groaned. “I don’t need a hunky detective, but a change in scenery might not hurt. Did you say Badger’s Drift?” Abby toyed with a pen, twirling it between her fingers and tapping it against her teeth.

Lori laughed. She was a born matchmaker, although she didn’t seem to feel the need to turn her talent on herself. “Trust me, it’s just what the muse ordered. It’ll be good for you. When Jessica stayed there, she fell in love, solved a murder, and wrote a bestseller. I’m telling you, it’s a magical place.”

A sigh escaped Abby’s lips as she contemplated the waves of change the place might bring. The idea of escaping from her self-imposed prison was tempting, almost too much so. It had been more than three years since she’d divorced her cheating spouse. Those three years, until now, had been the most liberating and creative in her life.

Part of the divorce had been an agreement that she would leave the school district in which her ex, Steve, was a superintendent. As she’d had some success in establishing herself as an author prior to the demise of her marriage, Abby had made a bold move and taken the lump sum she received and purchased her loft and a new-to-her vehicle. The only ‘maintenance’ she’d asked for and been awarded was a continuation of her health insurance.

“Magical, huh?”I could use a little magic—well, a whole lot of magic.Abby’s voice was laced with gentle skepticism, yet the pen twirled faster in her fingers—a sign of burgeoning curiosity. The thought wormed its way deeper, burrowing itself in possibilities and what-ifs.

“Absolutely. There’s this little café called The Anchored Bean on Main Street, which isn’t far from the Lighthouse Bed & Breakfast and has the best omelets I’ve ever tasted. Just think of it: great food, fabulous coffee, the scent of salt air and fresh pastries wafting through the air—heavenly. It’s one of those places where you can overhear the locals chattering about town gossip. Eavesdropping on them is so much fun—how what snippets you hear might fit into different contexts. It’s charming and real.”

“Real,” Abby echoed—the word stung with longing. Even now, the fact that she’d never suspected her ex was a liar and a cheat caused her pain. She’d walked away from all of their friends, and they had let her go. For her, reality had shrunk to the four walls of the loft, an obstinate cursor, and Lori, who’d never liked Steve, anyway. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe a change would do me good. Couldn’t hurt, right?”

“Right. Let Badger’s Drift work its hocus-pocus on you...” Lori paused, a smile audible in her next words. “And hey, who knows, you don’t want a detective? Maybe some rugged fisherman to inspire your next romance hero will sweep you off your feet.”

“Who cares about that? But I’d love some really fresh lobster,” Abby chuckled.

For a moment, Abby envisioned herself as the heroine in her own novel—brave, bold, and heading into an adventure in a picturesque seaside town. She had to admit the idea had some allure, and her readers would love it. Lori had given her worse ideas.

“Even better!” Laughter flowed through the phone line, pulling Abby back towards a lighter, more carefree state of mind. “I’ll text you the details. Pack your bags, girlfriend. You’ve got an adventure to take.”

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