Sleuth of Bears

Anne Loiselle

Description

A lighthearted mystery with a bent toward the philosophical and a touch of humor
Lily Piper is a young yoga instructor recovering from an accident that left her in a deep depression. She’s slowly working her way back to good health and has even signed up for a challenging open water swim, but something’s still missing - there’s no spark, no excitement, and she’s a little lonely. One day one of her clients tells Lily and a group of fellow students about an autopsy that was accidentally performed on the wrong body at the hospital where she works. She was hoping to send the body to the funeral home as quickly as possible, but when the medical examiner’s report is complete, it states that death was due to homicide! Lily (along with the clients who were present that day) is intrigued and can’t help doing a little investigating. The murkiness of the woman’s death sparks the very type of passion and interest she has been yearning to feel. A second murder, and a blossoming friendship among the group as they bond over discussions about motive and suspects, move the action along. The symbology of the Eye of Horus, the name of Lily’s studio, weaves throughout this tale, inviting the reader to explore deeper metaphysical concepts within the construct of an amateur detective story. Set against the idyllic backdrop of Washington, DC and the Potomac River, Sleuth of Bears is an engrossing and entertaining mystery.

Sujets

• Serie
• La huella
• New
• Detective
• Series
• Yoga
• Mystery
• Swimming
• Crime
• Piper
• Sleuth
• Fiction
• DC
• Debut

Informations

• Publié par: iUniverse
• Date de parution: 10 juillet 2023
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781663252715
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 1 Mo

Extrait

SLEUTH OF BEARS
 
 
 
 
 
 
ANNE LOISELLE
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
SLEUTH OF BEARS
 
 
Copyright © 2023 Anne Loiselle.
 
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
 
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
 
 
 
 
iUniverse
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Bloomington, IN 47403
www.iuniverse.com
844-349-9409
 
Because of the dynamic nature of the internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.
 
Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.
Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.
 
ISBN: 978-1-6632-5272-2 (sc)
ISBN: 978-1-6632-5273-9 (hc)
ISBN: 978-1-6632-5271-5 (e)
 
Library of Congress Control Number: 2023907640
 
 
 
 
iUniverse rev. date:  07/06/2023
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
For Ron
CONTENTS
Prologue
 
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-one
Twenty-two
Twenty-three
Twenty-four
Twenty-five
Twenty-six
 
Acknowledgments
About the Author
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Sleuth /sluθ/ noun
1. A person who investigates crimes Synonyms : detective, investigator, private eye
2. (rare, collective) A group of bears
 
PROLOGUE
Lily
This morning heavy fog lifts off the water, which at sixty-three degrees Fahrenheit is still warmer than the air. Last year? I would have thought this was crazy, unthinkable and unfathomable. How could I? And why on earth? But now it’s my favorite place, my favorite time, my favorite thing. I look forward to it and then, when the morning has come and it’s time to go, I almost chicken out every time. It’s going to be so cold. But I can’t stand not to get in. I want to go. I slide carefully and oh so slowly into the pool, breathing out hard to fight the urge to gasp as the chill seems to burn my hands and feet. I swim hard for two lengths, surrounded by mist and trees as sunrise begins to make its way up over the old diving well. I change from freestyle to breaststroke just so I can watch it. From there the sensations are familiar, exhilarating. A spark of energy from deep inside gathers and intensifies, emanating outward until the pain subsides. Now the water is glorious. When I finally climb out, I feel no cold at all, only a sense of complete satisfaction, a subtle high. I don’t think it consciously, but I feel it: there is no place I’d rather be at this moment. Life is good.
Marg aret
The water is freezing, and Margaret’s heartbeat revs to its maximum. It is too much for her, and she is already out of breath as she gasps for oxygen under the pelting flow.
“Tell me everything! I won’t leave until you tell me!” She hears the hysterical demand.
There can be no secrets now; she must reveal all and save herself. But it’s too late. She can’t breathe, she can’t talk, she can’t answer. No! This can’t be happening! She tries to free her hands, to signal that she wants to speak, but she is unable to move at all. What else can I do? Will nothing stop this! Her mind rebels as the horror of it hits her: there will be no respite from the flood, and she will never breathe again.
CHAPTER ONE
I t’s funny how the most mundane events can turn out to be cataclysmic, while a truly extraordinary occurrence barely makes a ripple. Today, for example, started out just a normal day, really, with no premonition whatsoever of what was to come. It’s early in October but bright and warm, verging on hot, this midafternoon as I stand and survey the lunchtime assemblage. We can accommodate as many as eighteen, and I note with satisfaction that we’re almost full.
My name is Lily Piper. I am twenty-five and a yoga instructor at an Eye of Horus studio in Bethesda, Maryland (one of the tonier suburbs of Washington, DC). For the past two years, I’ve been clawing my way back to a semblance of normalcy. Each day, when I venture forth and do my thing and it’s all okay, it’s like a tiny miracle. While true happiness still eludes me, I have at least found balance and a sense of peace. I think that I am on the path to wellness, and I keep at it even though, to be perfectly honest, something is still missing—something big, but I can’t put my finger on exactly what. I try not to dwell on that too much and instead take heart in knowing that I am healthy now, even fit, although not exactly what you’d expect in a yoga instructor. I’m short and stocky, perpetually fighting the extra pounds that come so easily and then refuse to budge. Hair that is currently short and curly is beginning to fall irritatingly over hazel eyes because I’m growing it out. When it’s longer, the curls turn into waves, which really shows off my one secret vanity: a few naturally caramel-colored strands that beautifully highlight what would otherwise be a rather ordinary head of light brown hair.
“Hello, everyone. Ready to begin? Let’s make a circle.” Anyone who’s ever been to other yoga studios will notice a difference at Eye of Horus right away. We usually start class in a circle. Everyone taps rhythmically with both hands just below the belly button. This is a simple exercise, but it warms the core and gently gets the blood pumping. I like it because we start the class looking at each other. When we see each other, we make a connection, albeit a subtle one. The more we make these connections, the more we strengthen our ability to connect to a higher and more universal energy. It takes barely a minute, and then we spread out into the room to begin our flow. We are still together but are now solely focused on our own bodies.
Looking around the room, it dawns on me that I know them all—their names, their levels of ability, even some of their quirks. When did this happen? I don’t remember exactly. I began as a student with some of them, and others came on board after I became an instructor, but it always felt like a struggle to remember each of their names. Now it seems so obvious, and this realization, too, feels satisfying. Progress has a way of being invisible except in rare moments like this one, when you encounter stark proof of improvement. I lead the class through exercises that open our hearts and inspire creativity, and I myself finish up feeling energized and primed for action, for adventure, for anything new and exciting. They say that if you’re open to it, opportunity will find you, but that always seemed so nebulous to me. I have to say, though, after today, I can’t help wondering.
At the end of each class, we invite everyone to come back into a circle for a cup of tea. We instructors prepare it ahead of time in one of those big thermoses with the spout, and we have a tray ready with small Japanese-style cups. Those who choose to stay park themselves on the floor in the middle of the room, sipping and chatting for just a few minutes. Once again, it is connective, a way to finish as a community, a group together, not individuals alone.
In truth, most people head immediately back to the changing rooms to get on with the rest of their days, but there are always a few who stay. Sure enough, while the rest of the class bustles quickly out into the sunshine, this afternoon my four “regulars”—the ones who never skip the tea circle—congregate in our usual spot, waiting patiently for me to join them. These are the clients I feel I know best, so I guess in a way they’re my favorites. It’s always funny to me when I look back later at this tenuous beginning, but that’s the way it goes—you rarely know it was a beginning except in hindsight.
I sit down in the space they’ve left for me, next to Miller Nguyen, who is short like me, with a hint of pudge beginning to spread over her fortysomething frame. Miller is Vietnamese by birth and still speaks with a distinctive melodic accent. She always seems to be in a hurry and does not suffer fools, gladly or otherwise. I used to be terrified of her, but she has always been friendly to me and lately I’m finding her bluntness to be enlightening rather than intimidating. You know exactly where you stand with Miller.
By now they’re all familiar with each other, so no one is shy, but even so it’s usually I who starts the conversation, breaking the ice by describing that day’s tea and why I chose it. The nuances among different types of tea is an interest of mine, so it’s an easy topic to share. Today, of course, is different. Today Karen Ellsworth plunges right in. She’s the newest of the regulars, and although in her midthirties, she feels to me most like my kindred spirit. When Karen first came in, she was heavy and sluggish, but just six months after joining us, she has firmed up noticeably, and she’s had her sandy blond hair trimmed to sport youthful bangs and a bouncy ponytail. At the moment, she is clearly tro