Tuesday Tales 2024-5-21 Leg

Welcome to Tuesday Tales, powered by a small group of authors, where word prompts inspire passages in the books we’re writing. Today’s word is leg. This snippet, from a cozy mystery set in fictional Glisten, Georgia, occurs slightly earlier than last week’s. When you finish reading, make sure to visit all the talented authors of Tuesday Tales.

Brady had certainly provided a different slant on the murder victim and on the murder. A chill ran up my spine at the thought of someone murdering not out of heated emotion but coldly and chillingly.

I spent the first day putting Jack’s study to rights, searching for his notes on the upgrade projects, and organizing, on paper at least, Tea Thyme’s part in the Pumpkin Fest.  I hadn’t found the notes and surmised they were on the laptop or tablet, but when Roy returned the electronics, it became obvious they weren’t. The tablet did have notes on it about a lot of different things but not what I was looking for. The only relief was that Brady seemed on track in his mind, if not on paper, and gave the impression he knew what had to get done.

Still, I was paranoid that something would fall through the cracks.   

I reviewed my godfather’s tablet again and had a light bulb moment. The information it contained, mostly details and obscurities related to Jack’s travels, sounded formal and stilted. It read as if Jack had copied it, sanitizing it from a hot mess originally jotted down someplace else. My brow furrowed. It reminded me of how I scrawl notes on a pad and then later, if I can get around to it, transcribe them to the note section of my phone.

With that in mind, I scoured his desk and came across a yellow legal pad under a bunch of receipts in the pencil drawer. It was a regular writing pad, not the brown, button-up journal that Luella had described. That was still nowhere to be found. In the middle of the pad were Jack’s jottings about the Inn and his planned upgrades. They were written in his large, freestyle scrawl, the sight of which tugged at my heart. It became obvious that he’d been hurt before he’d gotten the notes organized or transcribed onto his tablet. The notes were random, jumbled, and written in an individualistic shorthand that were sometimes hard to decipher. Still, they were plentiful and provided a leg up on his thought process. I began to see the bigger picture he had planned.

Another conference with Brady Pryce confirmed that we were on the same page up to a point. Jack had gone over much of the plan with him already.

Thanks for stopping by. I hope you enjoyed the piece inspired by the word leg. If you haven’t done so already, check out the other excerpts at Tuesday Tales.

Cheers & Happy Reading!

Flossie Benton Rogers, Conjuring the Magic with Spirited Stories

All rights reserved, copyright @ 2024 Flossie Benton Rogers