New Release | Dead in the Ditch by J.C. Kenney #cozymystery #humorousmystery #newrelease #bookboost
- N. N. Light
- May 5
- 8 min read
Title: Dead in the Ditch
Author: J.C. Kenney
Genre: Cozy Mystery
Publisher: Tule Publishing Group
Book Blurb:
Wild animal removal specialist Elmo Simpson needs to act fast before the good people of Paradise Springs decide to remove him!
Halloween has arrived, and all is well in Elmo Simpson’s life until his beloved cat Oscar wanders off and doesn’t return. While searching for Oscar, Elmo discovers a body in a ditch. A body that turns out to be Elmo’s former arch-nemesis, a man who Elmo believes stole intellectual property from him worth millions.
When word gets out who the victim is, the town becomes convinced Elmo is the murderer, intent on taking revenge. With nowhere to turn and the reputation of his recently purchased Sea Breeze Resort on the line, Elmo takes it upon himself to figure out who the real killer is. All the while, trying to assemble the threads that connect a dark time in his past with the equally perilous present.
Excerpt:
Do I really have to do this?” I stared at the mirror. The image in the reflection sent a shiver down my spine. The pink feathers covering my arms and torso were making my eyes scratchy. The leggings, also pink, made me feel like a reject from the cast of Robin Hood: Men in Tights. The ultimate indignity was the cowl. It was a pink head covering, complete with beady black lenses and a yellow foam beak a foot long. The get-up barely resembled my town’s official bird.
Gretchen ran a lint roller back and forth across the beak. Yet another humiliation.
“Francisco the Flamingo is the official mascot of Paradise Springs. You should feel honored to wear his feathers. Give your wings a flap.” She covered her mouth and coughed. It was an attempt to cover a giggle. One that failed.
I did as she said. Dust motes emerged from the feathers in such a huge quantity that I sneezed three times. “I can’t do this. Why can’t I be Pete the Pirate? He’s way cooler than…this.”
“Because you dinked around too long before you decided on a costume. And by that time, Pete wasn’t available. Besides, this is a family-friendly event. That means kids, and a criminal handing out candy to our guests isn’t the kind of message I want to send. If you want, I can call the costume store. I might be able to get you the purple dinosaur or red Teletubby.”
“Francisco the Flamingo, it is.”
She gave me a pat on the arm, or wing, I guess. “I thought so. We’re due in the rec room in twenty minutes. The candy’s already downstairs. That way you won’t have to carry it and wear out your precious wings. And don’t worry, the candy’s out of sight so cheaters can’t get to it.”
“You’re all heart, Gretchen.” My operations chief was dressed as a doctor. She was in lime-colored scrubs, a disposable hair covering, and had a stethoscope hanging around her neck. The entire ensemble had come from a friend who worked at Paradise Springs Emergency Care. I was green with envy. Not that anyone would be able to tell since I was covered from head to toe in a bird costume.
And by head to toe, I mean that literally. On my feet were wide, three digited, swim fins that made it hard to walk without falling flat on my face, or beak, as it were. Pink in color, of course.
“Stop being such a fussbudget or I’ll go back to calling you Tickle Me Elmo in public. The kids are going to love you.” She tweaked my beak, then giggled again. “This thing was your idea, after all.”
She was right. When I purchased the Sea Breeze Resort and Condominiums, I’d wanted to keep my ownership low profile. It took like a day for me to realize that wasn’t going to happen.
Rather than pout, I leaned into my newfound position. That included working with the recreation staff to come up with ideas to entertain our visitors. Among the suggestions that got green-lit was celebrating Halloween. One component of the celebration was offering trick-or-treating to the kids who were in the area.
I’d left the planning to Gretchen and the rec team with the promise that they had my full support for whatever they came up with. After all, my intent had been to empower them to exercise their creativity. It was a major departure in approach from the previous owner.
But that’s another story.
“I’m done at seven, right?” The Riptide Barbeque Shack, my favorite hangout, was hosting its annual Halloween bash. Judging for the costume party was set to begin at eight sharp. I was attending the party with my girlfriend, Nicola Beecham. We were dressing as the legendary criminal duo Bonnie and Clyde. With a twist. Nic was going as Clyde Barrow and I was going as Bonnie Parker. That meant Nic was going to need a lot of time to make me look pretty.
“Yes, yes.” She took me by the hand and led the way out of my office. “You’ll have plenty of time for Nicola to turn you into the most memorable Bonnie Parker this town’s ever seen.”
“I’m not sure I like the sound of that.”
“That was the idea. Let’s go make some kids happy, Fernando. And remember to smile for the cameras.”
“But nobody can see my face.”
“Shush. Nobody likes a whiner, either.”
Ninety chaotic and noisy minutes later, I had switched out of my costume and was headed for my truck. It was located in spot 1C on the first floor of the resort’s parking garage. I was amazed how quickly I could get from point to point again, now that I wasn’t encumbered by goggles, feathers, and swim fins. Never again would I take my freedom of movement for granted.
As had become my practice, I gave the garage a quick scan while I traversed the concrete surface. One ever knew when trouble might rear its ugly head. Especially on Halloween, when the alcohol flowed freely, and troublemakers could hide their identities behind a mask.
A car door slammed shut a level above me. Other than that, all was quiet. A few parking spots were empty. That was the norm for a Thursday evening. By midnight, those spaces would be occupied as visitors returned to the Sea Breeze after a night on the town.
With a grin in anticipation of a night of revelry, I placed a bag of candy on the passenger seat of my truck and fired up the engine. I stopped on my way out to chat with the security guard, a large Latino named Sam, who was on duty. As opposed to the security staff under the previous ownership, the folks who filled the position now had 100 percent spotless backgrounds. In fact, many were retired police officers. Before I said goodbye, I gave Sam a handful of candy and wished him a quiet evening.
While I waited for traffic on Gulfview Drive to clear, I took a glance at the resort’s surface parking lot. With forty spaces, it wasn’t huge but gave people who were checking in and those who were here to dine at our restaurant a place to park.
Again, all was quiet. Well, almost. In a far corner of the lot, a man and woman were arguing. Sam had an eye on them but hadn’t moved from behind the security desk. He knew what to do if the situation elevated.
Content that all was well at my resort, I hit the accelerator the moment I had a safe gap in traffic. I needed to get to Nic’s ASAP. Despite what she said when she pitched the costume idea, I had neither the facial bone structure, nor the shapely legs to emulate Faye Dunaway’s legendary portrayal of Bonnie Parker.
At least, I didn’t think I did. I, and the world, would find out soon enough.
Nic was already in her costume when I arrived at her place. With an impatient wave, she ushered me belowdecks of the boat she called home.
“You look amazing,” I said as I took in her pinstriped, navy-blue suit, complete with matching vest. The rigid collars of her white dress shirt framed the perfect Windsor knot of a red-and-white tie. She was sporting black wingtip shoes and had a brown fedora in her hand. She was dressed in the same outfit that Warren Beatty wore when he sat on a running board of a classic car for a Bonnie and Clyde promo shot.
“Thank you. It took me months to pull this together.” She led me down the short hallway to her cabin, then handed me a box. “Change into this outfit while I get your makeup ready. It’s time for your transformation.”
“Do I really have to wear a dress?” I asked a bit later, trying not to squirm as she applied rouge to my cheeks.
Nic rolled her eyes. “It’s not a dress, it’s a skirt. And yes, you do. One, because most women didn’t wear pants back in the day. Two, the skirt you’re wearing is the same cut and fabric that Faye Dunaway wore during the film. Same for the sweater and the foulard.”
“What about the bandanna?” I ran my fingers along the silky, black-and-gold patterned garment that was tied around my neck. It covered my sweater like a big, fancy napkin.
“Great Goddess of the Sea, give me strength.” Nic sighed. “What you’re calling a bandanna is actually a foulard, a specific type of scarf. Don’t you have any culture at all?”
“Hey, just because I’m not up to speed on women’s fashion doesn’t mean I don’t have culture. I took you to see Hamilton, didn’t I? And I know the difference between Champagne and sparkling wine, so there.”
“Okay, not totally without culture.” She laughed as she removed a blond wig from a satin bag. “Now, hold still. Almost finished.”
A few minutes later, after some grumbling about me needing a haircut and liberal use of hair pins, Nic stepped back. She gave me a big smile. When I started to stand, she put her hands up.
“Hold on. Now for the pièce de résistance.” She placed a light brown beret on my head, then directed me to the mirror. “Behold, Bonnie Parker in the flesh. Sort of.”
I got to my feet, thankful that the female half of the bank robbing duo had committed her crimes in flats instead of stilettos. Getting around in high heels would have been harder than trying to walk in Fernando the Flamingo’s swim fins.
The vision in the mirror didn’t look like me at all. In fact, she, I, wasn’t a half-bad-looking woman. The makeup accented my cheekbones and gave my eyes an almost brooding look. The wig came down to my neckline and, with most of it under the beret, looked real. Shoot, even the foulard covered my Adam’s apple.
“Dang, Nic. You’re good.” I turned ninety degrees to get a look at myself from the side. “I’m kind of hot as a woman.”
She donned her fedora and handed me a toy six-shooter and a small purse. “Don’t flatter yourself, doll face. You’d be nothing without me. Let’s go show them wise guys what we got.”
Buy Links (including Goodreads and BookBub):
Barnes & Noble: Dead in the Ditch by J.C. Kenney | eBook | Barnes & Noble®
Apple Books: Dead in the Ditch by J.C. Kenney on Apple Books
Author Biography:
J.C. Kenney is the Agatha Award Nominated and bestselling author of mysteries full of oddball characters in unusual settings. "Panic In the Panhandle," book 1 of his Elmo Simpson Mysteries series, was named one of the Ten Best Cozy Mysteries of 2024. He's also the co-host of The Bookish Hour and A Bookish Moment webcasts. When he’s not writing, you can find him following IndyCar racing or listening to music. He has two grown children and lives in Indianapolis with his wife and a cat.
Social Media Links
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