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    Cotton Picking Murder: Antique Pickers in Paradise Cozy Mystery Series, #2
    Cotton Picking Murder: Antique Pickers in Paradise Cozy Mystery Series, #2
    Cotton Picking Murder: Antique Pickers in Paradise Cozy Mystery Series, #2
    Ebook74 pages1 hour

    Cotton Picking Murder: Antique Pickers in Paradise Cozy Mystery Series, #2

    By Maggie West

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    About this ebook

    When antique pickers Sherri Green and Carol O’Brien get first dibs on the goods at a farm auction, one of them finds something more sinister. The missing farmer. Dead.

    Add a shady real estate agent and family and neighbors whose lives would be easier with the farmer out of the picture and you’ve got a puzzle that Sherri can’t help but piece together.

    Can Sherri and Carol along with the help of Deputy Leon Fletcher figure out who murdered the farmer? 

    Cotton Picking Murder is a clean, short read. It’s perfect for lovers of cozy mysteries that feature an amateur sleuth.

    Be sure to check out the rest of the books in the Antique Pickers in Paradise cozy mystery series:  book 1, Picked to Death; book 3, Picked On; book 4, Pick a Letter; and book 5, Fatal Pickings.

    There's more small town fun and crime solving in the close-knit community of Paradise.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherMaggie West
    Release dateOct 16, 2016
    ISBN9781536541151
    Cotton Picking Murder: Antique Pickers in Paradise Cozy Mystery Series, #2

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      Book preview

      Cotton Picking Murder - Maggie West

      The whole reason for picking and searching through junk is to make money.

      ~ Stacy L.

      Chapter 1

      Constant pounding on the back door woke Sherri Green from a peaceful sleep. She blinked through the dim light of dawn and stared at her husband. Ralph snored, undisturbed by the noise. Kitty Jo stirred a moment at the noise. From her spot between Sherri and Ralph, a twitch of her tail caused the fur to brush Sherri’s face. The cat then stood, circled the spot where she’d been resting, then lay down again. Purring.

      After giving Kitty Jo a quick rub behind the ears, Sherri sat on the side of the bed and slid her slippers onto her feet. She grabbed the baseball bat tucked between the bed and the distressed table she used as a nightstand. By the time she made it to the kitchen, she was awake enough to realize who it was. Only one person ever knocked on her back door.

      She pulled open the back door. Carol? Why are you making such a racket? The early morning summer air felt soft and cool. But it gave Sherri a chill.

      Breathless, Carol O’Brien rushed into the kitchen. Sherri, we're late.

      Late for what? Sherri wiped the sleep from her eyes as her muscles ached to return to bed.

      Don't tell me you forgot. We set a reminder on your phone. We talked about it last night. Hello?

      Oh, no! I must have forgot to set my alarm. Let me just get dressed. Sherri rushed back into the bedroom where she grabbed some clothes from the dresser. On the way to the bathroom, she ran straight into her husband's toolbox that he'd left in the middle of the hallway, yet again. She yelped and grabbed her toe. Knowing Carol was in a hurry, she gritted her teeth, pushed the metal toolbox to the side and swore under her breath. What she really wanted to do was place it smack dab in the way so when Ralph stumbled to the restroom he’d get the same treatment. But she didn’t.

      Sherri had learned early in their marriage that it didn’t do a bit of good to undermine her partner. Besides she knew she was guilty of just as many things that bugged Ralph. Instead, Sherri returned to the bedroom and stood at her husband’s side of the bed a moment and silently scolded him by pointing her finger at the lump under the covers that was Ralph. She admonished him with a speech in her head:  You better move that toolbox, buster, or you’ll be in deep doo-doo.

      After splashing cold water on her face, she brushed her teeth, ran a brush through her straight red hair, and threw on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. She then rushed back to the kitchen as fast as her limping foot would let her. She sat in a kitchen chair and slipped on socks and one shoe. On her good foot.

      Carol had made coffee and was pouring them each a cup into travel mugs. As she helped herself to the breadbox, Carol asked, What’s wrong with you? Were you limping?

      Sherri rubbed her foot. Oh, this? Prince Charming left his toolbox in the hall again.

      Carol snickered.

      Sherri shot her a look and rubbed her toe before gingerly slipping her foot into her tennis shoe.

      Carol’s face suddenly became serious. Ouch. That must have hurt.

      Sherri watched as Carol attempted to stifle a smile.

      Carol turned her back and tucked a few bagels into a plastic bag. She took a swig of coffee and lifted the lid to add sugar. Carol felt just as at home in Sherri's kitchen as she did in her own. The antique pickers had been friends for so long that they were more like family than good friends.

      Carol thrust one of the travel mugs across the table at her picking partner. Okay, I’m set. You ready to go?

      Yeah, I guess. I'm so sorry I overslept.

      Relax, we'll still be there at least an hour before everyone else.

      They climbed into Carol’s beat up pickup truck. On the passenger side of the truck’s bench seat, Sherri did some morning stretches, that is if you can call stretching her eyelids open between sips of coffee stretches. With her toe throbbing inside her tennis shoe, Sherri silently was grateful that Carol had opted to drive to the auction. Carol didn’t have a husband or a cat or toolboxes lying around her house or anything else to think about, it seems to Sherri. That made it a whole lot easier to get up and at ‘em in the morning. Sherri yawned and cut herself some

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