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  A Season of Change

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication / use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer, who may quote brief passages in a review.

  Cover Design Photography: Maxim M. Muir

  Copyright © 2014 Diane Greenwood Muir

  All rights reserved.

  Don’t miss all of the books in

  Diane Greenwood Muir’s

  Bellingwood Series

  All Roads Lead Home – Bellingwood #1

  A Big Life in a Small Town – Bellingwood #2

  Treasure Uncovered – Bellingwood #3

  Secrets and Revelations – Bellingwood #4

  Life Between the Lines – Bellingwood #5

  Room at the Inn – Bellingwood #5.5

  A Season of Change – Bellingwood #6

  CONTENTS

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  THANK YOU FOR READING!

  CHAPTER ONE

  “I’m telling you, this is a terrible idea,” Polly protested. “What are you people thinking? Isn’t it bad enough that I find dead bodies in real life? Now you want me to play a murder game?”

  “You’ll have fun. I promise.” Henry parked in front of Aaron and Lydia Merritt’s home.

  “We always have fun. I just don’t think it’s a good idea to set me up for more murder.”

  “Well, you look absolutely beautiful tonight,” he said, patting her hand. “Does that help?”

  “I’m just saying,” she said, laughing. “And by the way, you’re kind of hot yourself, young man.”

  Polly had purchased her first little black dress for this party. She was a bit intimidated by it until Henry’s eyes popped out of his head. A year of working with horses, tossing hay bales and shoveling manure had toned her upper body, while running with Obiwan had done wonders for the rest. Dressing up had become much more fun.

  They were on the front stoop when Nate and Joss Mikkels pulled in behind Henry’s truck. Henry walked back to open Joss’s door. She stepped out, dressed in an adorable silver cocktail dress with a tiered skirt and sequined bodice. Nate looked dapper in a black tuxedo.

  “We’re all looking pretty impressive for an evening at the Sheriff’s house,” Nate said. “I’m glad to see that you two dressed up. When Joss made me wear my tux, I wondered if I was supposed to be the preacher at a funeral.”

  “Don’t talk about funerals,” Polly said. “I’m not finding the dead body.”

  Joss linked her arm with Polly, “I’ve never been to a murder mystery dinner.”

  “Me either, but trust Lydia to come up with something new.”

  Aaron Merritt opened the front door and Polly looked him up and down in approval, “She even got you to dress the part.”

  “My wife talked me into buying this tuxedo a long time ago,” he said. “It makes her happy.”

  “I can see why. Ooh la la!” Polly said.

  “You’re my prime suspect tonight, Polly.” Aaron gestured to the stairs leading downstairs. “I’m keeping an eye on you.”

  “Remember. I don’t kill them, I just find their bodies.”

  The familiar family room had been completely transformed. Lydia took her parties seriously. “Murder at the Winery” was on tap for the evening. The room was laid out like the map that had come with the invitation and Lydia had found a few wine casks to complement the decor.

  “I’m glad you’re here!” Lydia exclaimed, crossing the room. She hugged them and gestured to the room. “What do you think?”

  “This is wonderful,” Joss said. “Where did you get the barrels?”

  “Oh, you know. I made a couple of calls.” Lydia grinned and took the girl’s arms and led them to a table. “Have you met the owners of Secret Woods Winery?”

  The three young men at the table stood and greeted them while Lydia introduced everyone. Henry had been hired to build the winery’s lodge. Since the old hotel she and Henry were renovating into Sycamore Inn was on the same street, they’d seen each other several times over the last few months.

  J. J. Roberts, Ryan Williamson, and Patrick Stephens had gone to high school in Bellingwood. Before graduating, they began coding the popular video game - Sword Lords. They’d moved to California for college and to establish their business, but when a large company bought them out they’d returned to Bellingwood to do something a little more exciting … open a winery.

  Polly glanced at the young woman who remained seated. Patrick caught her look and said, “I’m sorry, you haven’t met my wife.” He put his hand on the woman’s elbow to help her stand, but she shrugged him off. “Annalise, this is Henry Sturtz and Polly Giller. Henry is our contractor for the lodge.”

  She didn’t say anything, just nodded and picked at the napkin beside her place setting. Her blonde hair was perfectly coiffed into a tight bun at the back of her head and she wore a deep red dress. Matching red lipstick on pouty lips was reminiscent of a young ingénue from some of Polly’s favorite noir films.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Annalise,” Polly said. “I hope we get an opportunity to see more of each other once the winery opens.”

  “You’ll find your place settings at the tables,” Lydia interjected. “I hope you have a good evening.”

  Aaron took their coats and when he left, Beryl and Sylvie came down the steps, carrying baskets of rolls and trays of vegetables.

  “Excuse me, I want to say hello to my friends. I’ll be right back.” Polly squeezed Henry’s hand and walked away.

  Beryl was in a bright purple dress with a flouncy skirt, while Sylvie had dressed much more demurely in a simple black skirt with a blue blouse. “Hello, friend!” Beryl dropped the baskets she was carrying on the bar counter and ran to hug Polly.

  “Hello there! I’m glad to see you too, but didn’t we just have lunch together on Friday?” Polly laughed.

  “But I missed you,” Beryl whispered at Polly, “And I’m not sure about that little twit with Patrick Stephens. She won’t talk to anyone. Good luck with her.”

  “Be good,” Polly whispered back. “I’m surprised that Lydia invited them. I thought this was just going to be the regular crowd.”

  �
�You know our Lydia. She thinks everyone should be friends and if there is something new and exciting going on, she’ll find a way to be part of it. She keeps us young. Wait until you see the other guests. It should be a hoot.”

  “What do you mean?” Polly asked.

  “Oh, just wait and see.”

  Polly didn’t have to wait long.

  “If there’s a murder, Polly is going to be somewhere close, isn’t she!” Ken Wallers, Bellingwood’s police chief came down the steps. He was followed by an extremely short, petite woman with straight dark hair, cut just below her ears.

  “I keep telling you, it’s not my fault!” Polly protested, laughingly. “But two of the county’s finest in the same room? Is Bellingwood safe tonight?”

  “My best people are on the street,” he said, then put his arm around the shoulders of the woman with him. “I don’t believe you’ve met my wife, Maude. Honey, this is Polly Giller.”

  She reached out to take Polly’s hand, “It’s nice to finally meet you, Polly. I hear about you often.”

  “Oh my. I’m afraid I should apologize,” Polly said.

  “It certainly keeps Kenneth out of my hair and creates entertaining stories for his future memoirs.”

  Sylvie came up to stand beside Polly, “Hi Maude. How are the kids treating you?” She turned to Polly. “Maude was Jason and Andrew’s third grade teacher. Both boys loved her. It took me a while to call her by her first name, but I’m learning.”

  “The children are exceptional this year. I have a terrific group of kids.”

  Sylvie winked. “She says that every year, even when they are horrible and she has to crack the whip. She brings Ken in for the first day of class and after they realize her husband is the police chief, they steer clear of trouble.”

  “He comes in a couple of times a month to read to them, just to remind them that they can trust him,” Maude said. “He says it helps him get to know families in the community, but I think he just likes spending time with me.”

  Len and Andy Specek arrived. She waved at Polly before stopping to speak with Beryl and Lydia. Len made his way to Henry, who was standing with J. J. Roberts and Aaron Merritt.

  Lydia spoke up, “Now that everyone is here, it’s time to begin. If you would please find your seats, we will have appetizers and introduce our characters to each other. I would like to introduce you to a couple of lovely young women who will serve us this evening. Meryl and Deena are students of our infamous local artist and will help me ensure that you have a pleasant experience. You are here to enjoy good wine, a terrific meal catered by our own Sylvie Donovan, and wonderful company.”

  She turned to the trio who were opening Secret Woods Winery and said, “We are serving several wines from our new winery this evening. It’s a privilege to be among some of the first to taste their offerings.” Lydia made a sweeping gesture around the room. “But for now, welcome to our own Bellingwood Wines and I hope you enjoy your evening.”

  The girls set dishes of steak and mushroom skewers, bacon wrapped scallops and shrimp cocktail on each table, along with baskets of bread and rolls. Polly couldn’t help but grimace as Annalise Stephens turned up her nose at each dish and took a long drink of the red wine her husband poured. He set two slices of bread on her plate and pushed the butter toward her, but she ignored him and took another drink. The girl was going to be drunk soon. With enough alcohol, she might loosen up.

  Henry was chuckling beside her.

  “What’s up?” Polly asked.

  “We don’t have to eat pizza tonight. This is awesome.”

  Polly laughed until she snorted. “We’re terrible, aren’t we! I should cook more often.”

  “Either that or hire Sylvie as our live-in chef.”

  “She’s closer to living with me than you are, Henry Sturtz,” Polly said under her breath.

  “I need to fix that someday, don’t I?”

  “Maybe someday,” Polly wiggled her eyebrows at him. “But first, more wine.”

  Lydia stood again and clutching her heart, said, “I’m sorry to announce this, my friends, but Gregory, our sommelier, has met an untimely end. His stabbed and beaten body was found by our own Miss Polly Giller and one of you in this room is the horrible fiend who ended his life. Please tell us who you are and what you know of this crime.”

  Everyone pulled out their cheat sheet cards and one by one, revealed their character’s motivations for the evening and the first round of clues. The entire group seemed to be having a wonderful time and one by one, each began getting into character, speaking with different accents, and developing their backgrounds. Polly was disappointed when Annalise Stephens sulkily delivered her clue, then slumped back in her chair. Great. A sulky drunk.

  J. J. began poking and teasing her about her pert red lips and pouty face. Patrick scowled at him a couple of times, but finally gave up. Ryan rolled his eyes and said. “J. J. is our problem child. We’d be lost without his ideas, but sometimes it’s easier to ignore him when he gets an audience.”

  “Oh, that isn’t true, my dear friend,” J. J. said. “I do my best work when I have an audience. I charm the ladies,” he took Joss’s hand and kissed it, “and schmooze the gents,” He placed Joss’s hand in her husband’s and patted them both.

  “Well, you don’t charm me,” Annalise said belligerently. “I think you are a boor.”

  “A boar!” J. J. put two fingers under his nose and snorted. “Are you calling me a pig?”

  “No, a boor, you moron. A boo-or,” she drew the word out.

  He shook his head. “I’ve been called a pig before, too, but words don’t hurt me. Even yours, mah petite.” He faked a poor French accent and winked across the table at Annalise. “We’ll kiss and make up before morning. Right?”

  “We haven’t up to this point. I don’t know why we’d start now.” She sneered at him and took another drink.

  Meryl and Deena cleared the appetizers and served a creamy rice soup. Annalise pushed hers away.

  Patrick stopped her, “You have to eat something, dear.”

  “Fine.” She slapped his hand away and pulled the bowl back in front of her. After taking two small sips from her spoon, she pushed it away again. “Is that enough?”

  “Oh, good god, this is going to be a long night,” J. J. sighed. He turned to Polly and Joss, “I’m sorry about this. She gets nasty when she drinks too much.”

  “J. J.” Patrick snapped the words at his friend. “Leave it alone.”

  Henry reached for Polly’s knee under the table and gave it a squeeze. “So, Patrick, not to obviously change the subject or anything,” he said, “but have you given any thought to the flooring you’d like in the banquet hall?”

  J. J. started laughing and Ryan, with a sly grin, said, “That’s why we wanted you to do the work, Henry. You’re smarter than anyone we’ve ever known.”

  “Have you known him long?” Nate asked.

  “I think we’ve known him all our lives,” Ryan responded. “We were freshmen in high school when Henry was a senior. He was pretty cool even back then.”

  Polly grinned at him. “He is pretty cool, isn’t he.” She put her hand on top of his under the table, running her thumb across his fingers.

  The evening progressed from course to course and each round of clues drew them closer to the possible suspect. Annalise continued to refuse food while drinking more wine. She finally chose to eat something when the main course arrived - a ham, diced tomato and cheese topped chicken breast.

  Sylvie was amazing. Having her as Sycamore House’s chef was a coup that Polly couldn’t believe she’d pulled off. When they’d first met, the woman worked as a clerk in the small downtown grocery store, raising two sons on what little she made. More than a year later, she was finishing a culinary program in Des Moines and fending off as many customers as she accepted. It wouldn’t be long before the kitchen at Sycamore House was bustling every day of the week.

  “I knew her when,” Polly said.
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  “What?” Henry asked.

  “I was just thinking about how great Sylvie is,” she said with a smile. “It’s fun watching her grow into herself.”

  He leaned back in his chair and put his arm around her. “You’ve got a good eye for talent.”

  Ryan leaned across the table. “You’d better be careful that we don’t steal her out from under you. This meal is terrific.”

  “Good luck with that, boys,” Henry said and stood up. “I think that we’ve waited much too long this evening to expose the murderer. I find that I must accuse Mr. Kenneth Wallers of stabbing poor Gregory. If you will notice, there is a knife under his chair.”

  “That’s a lie!” Ken cried out and stood. “It was planted by the real killer, who must be you. No one else in the room knew that it was there.”

  “It is quite plain to see,” Henry argued. “Just because no one else noticed it is no fault of mine, but theirs. You stand accused sir, what say you?”

  “I say I am innocent and stand behind my own accusation. It was you who beat the poor man to death.”

  “‘Twas not me and besides, the beatings couldn’t have been what killed him.”

  “Gentlemen, gentlemen,” Lydia said. “If neither of you is the killer, then maybe it is someone else. Let us share what we know and flush out the truth!”

  Each person shared the information they had and Polly began to wonder if maybe Henry wasn’t right. Ken Wallers’ character very well could have been the murderer. The girls cleared the dinner plates and brought out small dishes of raspberry sorbet. Annalise Stephens finished hers before the others began and Patrick nonchalantly switched dishes with her so she could have his as well. He put his hand on the back of her chair and quietly stroked her neck while they continued to talk about the murder of the evening.

  Lydia stood up and said, “Before we have our final dessert, I would like to thank you all for joining us. It is time to uncover the villain. Please reveal your final clues.”

  Each person shared their information and Henry stood again. “I must insist that the person who stabbed Gregory is none other than Ken Wallers. He is the murderer and can deny it no longer!”