Free A Death in Duck: Lindsay Harding Cozy Mystery Series (Reverend Lindsay Harding Mystery Book 2) by Mindy Quigley

morning, Simmy was up at dawn doing calisthenics on the beach.
    “Why don’t I make us a pot of coffee?” Lindsay offered. “And we can break into the Christmas cookies I brought.”
    “Did you bake them?” Simmy eyed her suspiciously. “No offense, honey, but I still have all my own teeth and I’d like to keep them intact.”
    Lindsay accepted the truth of the statement. She had followed her father’s walnut crescent cookie recipe exactly, but she’d still ended up having to scrape burnt bits off the bottoms. “I also made some Jell-O,” she offered. It had required no baking, and was therefore immune to accidental charbroiling. “It’s red and green and in the shape of Christmas bells. It just needs to be chilled for a few minutes before I take it out of the mold.” 
    “I don’t want to spoil your Jell-O mold, honey. Let’s just have ourselves some coffee.”
    After trying and failing to locate coffee filters, or indeed the coffee pot, Lindsay opted to make two strong cups of Earl Grey tea. Simmy floated around beside her, rearranging a vase of half-dead Gerbera daisies that stood in the middle of the stovetop. “So, how have you been, honey? Are you seeing anyone?”
    “I’m still dating that police officer. Didn’t Aunt Harding tell you?”
    “A police officer? That’s wonderful! How’s the sex? Does he use handcuffs?”
    Lindsay furrowed her brow. “Hold on. When was the last time you spoke to Aunt Harding?”
    “Why are you avoiding my question about the handcuffs?”
    “Why are you avoiding my question about Aunt Harding? Is everything okay?”
    Simmy stared into her teacup, as if an answer might swirl up out of the steam. “To be honest, honey, I don’t think so. Patty is hardly seen in the village these days. She’s almost a recluse. It started at the end of last summer. She always hunkers down during the tourist season, you know, so I didn’t think anything of it at first. She just stocks up on provisions and hides in her house. But even now that the season is over, she rarely surfaces.”
    “But you must see her? You two are like sisters.” Lindsay couldn’t believe her ears. Simmy had been a frequent visitor at Aunt Harding’s house for as long as anyone could remember. They had been among the handful of children to attend the old one-room schoolhouse in Corolla village. As teenagers, they had braved World War II together, when the whole North Carolina coast was under threat from the German U-boats that menaced the nearby shipping lanes. They had stayed on the island in the war’s aftermath, even as the population of the northern Outer Banks dwindled to almost nothing, and they staunchly remained even after the wild spree of beachfront development took hold. Neither woman had any close family, but they’d always had each other. They represented the old guard, a permanent and inseparable pair. Only, apparently, they weren’t.
    “It breaks my heart, but it’s true. I almost called you and your dad a hundred times to tell you what was going on, but I’m not sure there’s anything anyone can do. At first she told me that I should stay away because she was sick, but when I drove out there to check on her, she seemed fit as a fiddle. Matter of fact, she looked positively perky when she shut the door in my face. I even offered to have her move in here, though I know we’d probably murder each other within the week if that were to happen.” She sighed. “You know Patty. Mules cower in the presence of her stubbornness.”
    “When’s the last time you saw her?”
    Simmy looked into her cup again, concentrating intently. “Oh, I expect it’s been a good long while now.”
    “What do you think is going on? She was acting a little cagey when I talked to her on the phone last week, but that’s pretty normal for her. Could she really be sick or something? Maybe dementia?” Lindsay wracked her brain to find an explanation for her aunt’s troubling behavior.
    “I don’t think