Mercy & Mayhem: A Mercy Mares Cozy Mystery by Ava Mallory Read Free Book Online

hairs at bay. Recently, I was considering resorting to shoe polish just like my grandfather used to do, but that was only in case of dire emergency, like if I'd been offered a starring role in a new television series or I met a dapper Italian man, who wanted to whisk me away to his villa and show me what it was like to live in the lap of luxury. In that case, I'd buy stock in shoe polish and have a laboratory on standby in case a scientist found the cure to aging, because I was going to need that asap.
     
    I had a few minutes to grab a cup of coffee and a doughnut before I had to prepare myself to go into work. If I remembered correctly, I'd seen a diner just around the corner. I'm sure they'd be open and, hopefully, none of the fascinating individuals I'd met yesterday would be there.
     
    The place was quaint and quiet, just like I had hoped. I wanted to ease into my day, not have a repeat of yesterday. So, I walked in, pulling the squeaky door open, bells ringing, and stood in line between one nice older gentleman and a woman, holding a briefcase.
     
    The waitress asked what I'd like and only slightly flinched when she realized that I was obviously new in town because I had no idea what was on the menu other than to say that I wanted a coffee and a doughnut. She helped me find the choices on a nearby menu and waited sort of patiently while I ordered. It's not like the place was busy, but she seemed to be a hurry to go on to do whatever it was she had to do.
     
    I ordered and went in search of a table tucked away from the street. Not that it was busy, but I knew how small towns worked and figured all of the locals would be making their way in soon and I'd have to go through the motions of explaining who I was and what I was doing there, neither of which I really wanted to do.
     
    The coffee was nice and hot, like I liked it. The doughnut was moist and delicious. At least, I could enjoy it in peace and quiet. That is until I noticed the front of a gentleman's newspaper as he read it: Mr. Rowdy Knott Dies at Valley Retirement Estates.
     
    That's all I needed. Did nothing more exciting happen in this town? He made the front page. Who was he?
     
    I tried to read, but my eyes weren't as good as they used to be and I didn't want to make it obvious that I was reading the poor man's newspaper. I squinted as I drank my coffee and still couldn't make out what the article said about him.
     
    The waitress came over the to the table, holding a pot of fresh coffee and topped my cup off for me.
     
    "Do you have a newspaper stand nearby?” I asked.
     
    She rolled her eyes. "I have a paper. Want one? It's fifty cents.
     
    I nodded. "Please?"
     
    She walked away. When she returned, she plopped a thin newspaper on the table in front of me. I read the headline again to make sure I'd seen it right. Sure enough, it was an article about Rowdy. Apparently, he and Betty were big farmers here in their day and owned a large farm that was still in operation now. Most of the story was about the farm and not so much about his death, other than to say the cause was unknown and pending autopsy. I almost choked on my coffee.
     
    Why was I the only one that could see that his death was from natural causes?
     
    The article clearly stated that Mr. Knott was seventy-seven years old, so why would the first thing that people latched onto be that his death had to have been caused by someone and not by something related to his age, an ailment, and something else?
     
    "Are you finished?" The ultra friendly waitress was referring to my empty plate.
     
    "Yes. Thank you." I lifted the newspaper, so that she could take my plate.
     
    When I moved back, I caught a glimpse of the maintenance man from the nursing home.
     
    Oh, what was his name again? Jeb!
     
    I started to get up to go say hello, but then I noticed that he was seated across from a man. I assumed it was a man because of the large shoes he had on his feet. I didn't realize that farmers wore