O'Heavenly Murder by Jennifer Northen - HTML preview

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CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TEN

 

Mary was beside herself with grief over the loss of her only true friend. She felt she would be unable in her current mental and emotional state, to wait for Ruth’s funeral. She was already packing up and preparing to move to Millersburg, as she was scared to spend another night in this town.

She was taking only what she could carry in her older model dodge coup. The stress of the last weeks had caused her hair to start falling out, and hives were spreading over her shoulders and back. Doc Otis gave her some yellow ointment, but it didn’t seem to be helping any.

Dread crept ever closer as she now picked up an uncontrollable trembling in her left hand. Every unexplainable noise set her into a sweating panic of nausea. Fleeing this haven of death was all she could think about as she speedily packed her automobile.

Later, just before dusk, as she roared out of Saint Cloud; she would not be alone as there would be a line of vehicles exiting this dying township, to be sure.

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 SAINT CLOUD GAZETTE

 TOWN CURSED PER FATHER LONIGAN

Nearly two hundred residents have fled Saint Cloud in the last three months. Businesses are closing, people are fleeing for their very lives as Father Lonigan proclaims the town cursed.

Story by: Jonah McGregor

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Mayor Carver was enjoying a quiet morning in his office as he now unfolded the Gazette, “Holy shit,” he mumbled in a low voice.

No sooner had he read it, Father Lonigan came through his open door. “Brent, have you…”

“Father, father, father…” he said shaking his head, “so now you’re McGregor’s latest victim I see.” Brent smirked.

“Why, I never said this wonderful town of ours was cursed, all I said was…”

“You’re preaching to the choir, Padre. Now you know how me and Thomas feel. That little buffoon has taken every word we’ve said, and twisted it into a humongous pack of lies, yes siree.”

“Isn’t there anything you can do?” Father Lonigan asked in all sincerity.

“Freedom of the press, Father, freedom of the press. That little jackass can print whatever he likes. You going over to have a word with him?”

“No, I don’t want the church to be a part of this. No telling what he might write if I go and, god forbid, I lose my temper.”

“Sounds like a smart move, Father, just let it go.” Brent said interlocking his fingers and resting his hands on his big belly.

“How do you remain so claim over all the lies he’s said about you, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“Well Father, my friend here takes care of that for me,” he said pulling a bottle of ‘Jack Daniels’ from his lower desk drawer. Laughter poured out of the Mayor as Father Lonigan couldn’t contain himself and joined the merriment.