BAD PICK Read online

  Praise for the Brie Hooker Mystery Series

  “Picked Off, the second entry in the charming Brie Hooker series, is a delightful mystery filled with a host of memorable and fun characters.”

  – Robin Burcell,

  New York Times Bestselling Author of The Gray Ghost

  “A ripe, juicy mystery just waiting to be devoured…If you’re looking for a fresh cozy, this one’s worth a gander.”

  – Diane Vallere,

  National Bestselling Author of the Madison Night Mystery Series

  “There’s such a lot to enjoy in Linda Lovely’s third Brie Hooker mystery…And what kept me flicking the pages fast enough to cause a draft? The twisty, knotty, killer plot underneath all that charm.”

  – Catriona McPherson,

  Multi-Award-Winning Author of the Last Ditch Mysteries.

  “A fringe religious cult, a Supreme Court nominee, and goat yoga combine together in a tale mystery fans won’t want to miss.”

  – Sherry Harris,

  Agatha Award Nominee and Author of the Garage Sale mysteries.

  “Lovely offers up a charming setting that’s so real you can almost smell the hay, a story that’s laugh-out-loud funny, and a mystery that will keep you up past your bedtime.”

  – Annette Dashofy,

  USA Today Bestselling Author of the Zoe Chambers Mysteries

  “Packed with suspense and action and some spicy romance…I ate up every morsel.”

  – Dorothy St. James,

  Author of the Southern Chocolate Shop Mysteries

  “This book is a thrill-a-minute read.”

  – Cindy Sample,

  National Bestselling Author of Dying for a Donut

  “How vegan Brie Hooker balances cheese loving carnivores, more than one romantic interest, and murder in Linda Lovely’s Bones to Pick is a humorous delight. A well-crafted series debut.”

  – Debra H. Goldstein,

  Award-Winning Author of One Taste Too Many

  “You’ll find yourself muttering, ‘What the feta?’ as you follow the action around not one but two murders from the edge of your seat.”

  – Edith Maxwell,

  Author of the Local Foods Mysteries

  “An entertaining mystery with a cast of colorful characters, a delightful Southern setting, and plenty of action.”

  – Wendy Tyson,

  Author of Rooted in Deceit

  “An injured football player, a kidnapping, and a murder investigation. Is there anything Brie Hooker can’t handle? Picked Off is Linda Lovely’s best book yet. Pick it up!”

  – Cindy Blackburn,

  Author of The Cue Ball Mystery Series

  “This twisty fun read is packed full of high suspense and high jinx. Add in a delightful cast of critters and characters and you have a not-to-miss whodunit!”

  – Sparkle Abbey,

  National Bestselling Author of Barking with the Stars

  “Udderly charming! Hunky heroes and a spunky heroine will sweep you off your feet in this adorable cozy.”

  – Larissa Reinhart,

  Wall Street Journal Bestselling Author of the Cherry Tucker Series

  The Brie Hooker Mystery Series

  by Linda Lovely

  BONES TO PICK (#1)

  PICKED OFF (#2)

  BAD PICK (#3)

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  Copyright

  BAD PICK

  A Brie Hooker Mystery

  Part of the Henery Press Mystery Collection

  First Edition | April 2019

  Henery Press, LLC

  www.henerypress.com

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever, including internet usage, without written permission from Henery Press, LLC, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  Copyright © 2019 by Linda Lovely

  Author photograph by Danielle Dahl

  This is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Trade Paperback ISBN-13: 978-1-63511-471-3

  Digital epub ISBN-13: 978-1-63511-472-0

  Kindle ISBN-13: 978-1-63511-473-7

  Hardcover ISBN-13: 978-1-63511-474-4

  Printed in the United States of America

  For Stew and Myrt Hooker

  Wish you were here to meet the Ardon County Hookers

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Special thanks to subject experts Dr. Denene Lofland and retired Chief G. Robert Campbell. Dr. Lofland’s areas of expertise include medical microbiology, bioterrorism, and new drug discovery and development. After I explained what I wanted to happen to a victim, her only question was how quickly I wanted it to happen. From his decades of firefighting experience, Chief Campbell offered insights into the behavior of fires and potential firefighting considerations. Any mistakes in interpreting and using their information are mine alone.

  Grateful shout outs are due the Henery Press editorial team, including Maria Edwards and Sarah Billman, who helped improve my manuscript. I also owe thanks to Rowe Carenen of The Book Concierge for her efforts to help Brie Hooker Mysteries reach new audiences.

  Continuing thanks to Kay Kirkley Barrett, Esq., former City of Clemson Attorney/Prosecutor, who offered background into how my character Iris Hooker, Esq., might spend her workdays.

  Major thanks to my long-term critique partners—Donna Campbell, Danielle Dahl, Howard Lewis, and Robin Weaver—for their top-notch suggestions, support, and friendship. I’m grateful, too, for valuable input from Beta readers Cindy Sample, Fara Driver, and Dee Anna Brown.

  As always my husband and best friend, Tom Hooker, provided spot-on feedback on early drafts and helped talk me through plot dilemmas. For this series, Tom even lent his surname to the main character, Brie Hooker. I’ve dedicated this book to Tom’s parents. His folks made me feel welcome the moment we met. I wish they could have lived longer so we could have enjoyed their love and laughter for many more years.

  ONE

  “How many people did you con into trying this goat yoga?” Aunt Eva asked as she slapped two strips of cold bacon in a skillet.

  “No conning needed,” I answered. “Everyone’s looking forward to the class.”

  “You sure goat yoga’s a good idea?”

  I laughed. “I’m sure. People love it. Admittedly, a sense of humor’s required, but it’s caught on all across the country. Why don’t you join the fun? Class starts at three. We don’t have many Sunday customers this time of year. We’ll probably have the farm to ourselves by then. You up for some downward-facing dog?”

  “No.” Eva harrumphed. “Don’t go insulting our noble dogs. Bad enough you’ll expose our baby goats to human pretzels. It’s bound to confuse the poor kids. Won’t know which human end is supposed to be up. They’ll think all us two-legged beings are bonkers. So who’s coming?”

  “Jayla, our yoga instructor, wanted to limit the trial class to four students so it’s just Mollye, Fara, Mimi, and me.”

  I pulled out a bag of frozen blueberries I’d picked at the Happy Berry Farm last summer. While Ud
derly Kidding Dairy, my home for the past seven months, boasted dozens of blueberry bushes, our four-hundred goats called first dibs on the fruit.

  “Oh, and Paint’s shooting video to promote the class,” I added.

  Aunt Eva chuckled as she flipped her sizzling bacon strips. “Not a hardship for Paint, videoing young ladies in nothing but skivvies and tutus.”

  I glanced heavenward. “We don’t wear tutus. Our workout clothes show less skin than you do on the Fourth of July.”

  Eva cocked an eyebrow. “Could be you’re helping Paint select babes for the weeks he’s not your designated beau.”

  I opened the cupboard and grabbed a microwave packet of steel-cut oatmeal. “Paint sees a variety of ladies when we’re not dating, and he knows everyone in this class. No behind-the-camera scouting required.”

  “Maybe, but as far as I know, he hasn’t seen any of them with their ankles up around their ears.”

  “And he won’t today.”

  “If you say so, but I swear my old bones creak just looking at some of those yoga contortions.”

  Eva cracked two eggs in the hot bacon grease, while I used our microwave—a new kitchen addition—to thaw my frozen berries and heat the oats. My usual February morning fare. At Udderly, we didn’t chow down until the morning chores were done. That meant I was starved and in dire need of a caffeine injection.

  Eva glanced over. “So how’s that boyfriend-for-a-week plan working? Who’s ahead in the Brie Hooker heart throb race? Any close calls on the clothing discard clause?”

  I smiled. “Paint and Andy try to outdo each other in dreaming up ways to initiate a striptease. Despite their enterprising efforts, the nude-default clause remains unchallenged.”

  Last November, I’d agreed to this bizarre boyfriend pact with Andy Green, our veterinarian, and David “Paint” Paynter, an entrepreneurial moonshiner. Though strongly attracted to both thirty-four-year-old hunks, I’d sworn I’d date neither. Didn’t want to lose them as friends or come between them. They’d been best buds for thirty years, practically since they left diapers.

  The boys came up with an alternative. I’d date Paint one week, Andy the next, until either I selected a fulltime beau, one of them opted out, or a ridiculous nudity clause kicked in. If I disrobed on any date, the magician who assisted in making my clothes disappear would win by default. Both men swore the arrangement would not affect their friendship.

  Me? I felt like I’d been locked in a chastity belt. Foreplay’s a lot less fun when there’s no after.

  “You know it can’t last, don’t you?” Aunt Eva asked, giving voice to my own misgivings.

  “Yep, I do. But like today’s sunny warmth—way too early for mid-February—I’ll enjoy it while I can.”

  TWO

  Jayla Johnson, our tall, willowy teacher waved as she walked toward me. Had to admit Paint would get an eyeful watching her stretch every which way. He was male, and Jayla was a stunner. As a shorty—I’m five four—I’d always envied long-legged ladies like Jayla. Somehow those extra inches made them look cool and sophisticated.

  Luckily, Jayla wasn’t in the running to join Paint’s off-week harem. She was happily married to one of Clemson University’s football coaches and had a darling three-year-old son.

  “Do we have a plan B?” Jayla glanced up at the Carolina blue sky. “It’s really warm for February, but the ground’s too muddy to put our mats down in a pasture. After five minutes, we’d look like we’d been mud wrestling.”

  “Agreed. It’d be a shame to get that outfit muddy.” Jayla looked like an Oreo cookie, her ebony skin a sharp contrast to her snowy outfit. “I did warn you baby goats aren’t potty-trained, didn’t I? Accidents can happen.”

  “Not to worry.” Jayla smiled. “My laundry room has one whole shelf devoted to stain removers for husband-son accidents. So where are we setting up?”

  “The horse barn. Plenty of room and it will be easier to keep Curly, Moe, and Larry contained.”

  “Who?”

  “Curly, Moe, and Larry are the baby goats—five-day-old triplets. We named the kids after The Three Stooges. Full of energetic hijinks. They’re also super cuddly.”

  We turned as Mollye Camp’s psychedelic van crunched down the gravel drive. Her van’s midnight blue paint job served as a backdrop for a galaxy of glittering stars, a super-sized harvest moon, and a broom-riding witch. Moll, my best friend since childhood, was a gifted potter who sold her creations along with an eclectic hodgepodge of homeopathic remedies, herbs, and astrological doodads in her Starry Skies shop.

  Moll jangled as she hopped down from her ride. She adored jewelry and had more piercings than a rapper. A vibrant purple streak adorned her white-blonde hair. She chose a new neon hue every month.

  Mollye hustled over. “Who we waiting for?”

  “Mimi and Fara,” I answered. “We’re keeping the group small for the test run. Paint’s shooting video.”

  Mollye checked the amount of cleavage revealed by her scoop-necked purple top and inspected the seams of her orange leggings as they meandered south of her shorts. “Glad I didn’t wear anything too revealing. Don’t want folks thinking I’d participate in some racy video.”

  Mimi and Fara’s arrival cut short Jayla’s and my eye rolls. Racy might not be Mollye’s middle name, but outrageous could be. I loved Mollye and her adventurous spirit though it sometimes landed me in hot water. Okay, in one case, freezing water.

  With rolled mats tucked under their arms, the class newcomers looked like an odd couple. Mimi, who’d emigrated from Vietnam at age two, stood four feet nine on tiptoe, while Fara, a busty blonde with long braids, topped out at five ten. Mimi was a pharmacist; Fara grew up in her family’s funeral parlor and was now the town’s youngest funeral director.

  Hard for this class to be more diverse. Paint would enjoy himself.

  “Hey, Fara, you boxing anyone up today?” Mollye joked.

  “Maybe you after class,” the funeral director quipped. “You want the deluxe mahogany coffin or a pine box? I’m thinking you and Brie have used up eight of your nine lives. Better not exert yourselves today.”

  Jayla clapped her hands. “Now children. Snarky is not the proper frame of mind for yoga. Think serenity. We want to clear our minds, be one with nature.”

  I chuckled at the good-natured kidding. “Follow me to our classroom. We have the horse barn to ourselves. The smell alone will remind you we’re one with nature. I evicted Rita and Hank. They’re grazing in the pasture. Figured Lilly’s mule and Eva’s horse were more inclined to nicker than meditate.”

  “Where are the goats in this goat yoga?” Fara asked.

  “Eva will bring Curly, Moe, and Larry in after we start. We need to leave the barn door open for the light. Jim, our Border collie, will keep the little goat Houdinis from escaping.”

  The triplets’ antics drove Jim nuts. Yesterday Moe pranced on top of a picnic table for five minutes taunting the poor herd dog. Jim ran circles around the table, barking in protest, unable to figure out how to nudge Moe back to her pen.

  After we placed our mats, Jayla led us through a series of simple warm-up stretches and breathing exercises. I’d been an avid runner and swimmer for years, but yoga was a new pursuit. I was pleasantly surprised to find its emphasis on breathing and mindfulness and its practiced movements helped me shed stress and fall asleep faster.

  Believe me, falling asleep quickly is a prized skill for anyone required to rise before the sun. At Udderly, one of my jobs appeared to be waking the roosters.

  Jayla announced the cat pose. I knelt on my mat and set my arms to provide four-point support. Then I arched my back like cats do when threatened. I lowered my head, giving my neck muscles a pleasant stretch.

  “Looking good, ladies.” With my head down I heard the man’s voice before I saw him.

  “Don’t mind me,”
the newcomer continued. “I’m gonna wander around and take photos.”

  The sexy baritone belonged to Paint. It should be outlawed.

  “Have fun, kids—human and goat.” Eva laughed as she let the baby goats loose in the barn. Moe immediately darted under my arched back, executed a one-eighty, and raced back again as if she were playing a game of London Bridge.

  My concentration faltered as Curly discovered she had easy access to one of my earlobes and began to nibble with her lips. It tickled.

  Fara broke out laughing as Larry scrambled up her arched back and danced a little jig on his newly discovered perch.

  “I’ve got a miniature geisha doing a four-footed massage.” Fara giggled. “Actually feels kind of good, though very strange.”

  “No talking,” Jayla admonished. “Concentrate on your breathing, your muscles. Be one with nature.”

  Paint hooted. “Nature’s winning.”

  Paint obviously felt he was exempt from Jayla’s no-talking reprimand. The instructor began laughing, too. Moe had curled her body around Jayla’s legs as she attempted to hold the Big Toe pose.

  We were all bent in half, butts in the air, when a loud voice brayed, “Oh dear God, save us. They are bowing to the devil, mocking the Lord Jesus by thrusting their bottoms at heaven above.”

  THREE

  What the feta?

  I snapped around to see who was calling us devil worshippers. Was this a joke?

  Flipping out of downward dog, I body slammed the mat. A second after hitting the plastic, a furry comedian bounced against my side. Curly shook her head as she attempted an impressive four-legged hop. She’d taken my tumble to the ground as an invitation to play. The little goat butted my side again.