Title MEERKATS AND MURDER
Author Leslie Langtry
Genre Cozy Comedy
Publisher Gemma Halliday Publishing
From USA Today bestselling author Leslie Langtry comes a former CIA agent turned Girl Scout Troop leader, and a murder that will keep you guessing until the end!
Just as Merry Wrath’s former career as a CIA agent seems to be fading into a distant memory, the agent turned Girl Scout troop leader discovers that her beloved little suburban ranch house may not be what it seems. When a masked gunman breaks in to demand the return of "Nye," she fears that she may not have been the first spy to live there. What…or who is "Nye?"
And when Merry trips over the dead body of that same gunman later at the zoo, she realizes that her favorite king vulture and his mouthy scarlet macaw friend may be witnesses to a murder. Suddenly this becomes much more personal, and her list of suspects grows from a cosplaying teenaged demigod zookeeper, to a possible plot by the Russians... which may even include Merry's old arch-nemesis.
Things aren’t going well for her Girl Scout troop either, as a new addition causes trouble, and the girls begin to turn against each other—sparking way more than just preteen angst. From a dangerous close encounter with a mythical red wolf, to a jovial, geriatric group of Russian expats who brew their own mind-bending vodka, Merry Wrath worries that if she doesn’t find the killer soon, this case may be her last.
I am dead. Really and truly dead. I'm not kidding. This is totally real. And the weird thing is, I can see and hear. I'm lying in an open coffin, and people are staring down at me. Trouble is, I can't talk back. How did this happen? Sure, I'm like, super old. But still! It was murder. I was killed on purpose by… Hey! There's Kelly! She's crying. That makes me feel bad, being dead and all. And Rex! He looks so sad. If only I could tell him who did it.
Is my troop here? Those girls are so smart, they'd probably figure it out just by looking at me. Philby's here? My cat is standing on my chest, smacking me in the face with her paw. She can't believe it either. And even though I don't feel it, it's still annoying. I'd like to tell her to stop. She must know I can't. I'll bet she finds that hilarious. And who brings a cat to a visitation? I'm pretty sure that wasn't in my will. Or was it? I forget a lot of things lately, being so old and all.
Anyway…where was I? Oh right! I was murdered! And you know who did it? It was the Catalans! They broke into my house to steal the plutonium I keep in my fridge. I tried to stop them and managed to kill two of them with one punch, but there were too many. In the end, I was killed by a man with a scimitar. Guess I should've seen that coming.
"The Catalans?" I frowned after reading the story, written in orange crayon, by Anonymous… I'm not supposed to know who it is, but let's call her "Schmetty." "What is it with you and the Catalans? Betty squinted.
"How do you know I wrote it?" I ignored the question.
"I'm not old either. I'm thirty."
"Technically," Lauren, Betty's usual partner in crime, said, "you are old. Like, Mayan Ruins old. Biblical old. Maybe even as old as, like, the first rock ever!"
"Look," I interrupted. "I appreciate your very loose interpretation of the facts and the creativeness of me being dead and, yet, alert at my own visitation." I took a deep breath. "And I do love the idea of Philby being there."
And if I ever get a lawyer, I'm gonna put that in my will.
I continued, "But the assignment was social problem-solving."
"What's more problem-solving than solving your own murder?" Lauren insisted.
"By the Catalans?" Betty nodded sagely.
I shook my head. "Because this is about dealing with the problems girls your age are facing today. And I'm pretty sure that fighting off a scimitar-wielding Spaniard of confusing origin who's after the plutonium in my fridge isn't one of them."
Seriously! Who keeps plutonium in a refrigerator? Everyone knows that if you're going for household appliance-based storage, you'd need a chest freezer (that you should then never, ever open).
One of the Kaitlyns poked me on the arm. "She should've used Boko Haram. That would make more sense."
I had four Kaitlyns who all looked alike and shared M as their last initial. You'd think that they'd each have one distinguishing feature, but you'd be wrong. They even had the same straight, brown bob haircut. Sometimes they dressed alike.
Caterina didn't even look up from the notepad she was writing on. "And they should be after drone technology. Everyone knows plutonium is so 2000s."
Smashwords - https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/936722
Leslie Langtry grew up in a small town in Iowa and now lives with her family in Western Illinois. For ten years, Leslie was the leader of a very precocious Girl Scout troop, and they have given her more than enough material for the Merry Wrath books. She can’t tell you which scenes in the series really happened, on the grounds that she might incriminate herself.
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