Welcome to the blog today. I am glad you are visiting because it is a special day.
Author Lauren Carr is visiting with a little short story introducing
Doris Matheson from the Chris Matheson Cold Case Series.
This post is a part of the tour for The Last Thing She Said. The newest in the Chris Matheson Cold Case Series.
Meet Doris Matheson: Be Afraid. Be Very Afraid.
By Lauren Carr
This guest post features an introduction to Doris
Matheson, mother of Chris Matheson of Lauren Carr’s Chris Matheson Cold Case
Mysteries. Rather than tell you about her, I thought it would be better to show
you.
The Jefferson County sheriff deputy, Mitch Dawson
watched the blue Malibu speed past him and turn onto the freeway leading to
Harpers Ferry.
Sixty-eight miles and hour in a fifty-five zone.
Deputy Dawson flipped on the lights and pulled out onto
the freeway to fall in behind the sedan. With a wave of her hand, the
blonde-haired driver crested the top of the hill and turned on the light to
signal a left turn.
Assuming she was leading him to a more convenient place
to pull over, Deputy Dawson followed the Malibu to the next intersection where
she turned left and kept on going.
“Where is she going?” He radioed in the license plate to
run a check on the driver.
The Malibu made its way through Bolivar and turned left
again with the cruiser, lights flashing, following her.
Deputy Dawson turned onto a side street next to the
middle school when the sheriff’s voice blasted from the radio. “Dawson, what
are you doing?”
“I’m trying to pull over a car for speeding,” Deputy
Dawson said as the sedan pulled into a library parking lot.
“Don’t do it!”
“Why not?” Deputy Dawson pulled into the parking space
next to the blue Malibu.
“Do you know who that is?” the sheriff asked as the
woman, her blonde hair cascading down to her shoulder, clad in a black leather
jacket with high fashion black boots, slid out of the driver’s seat of the
Malibu.
“No, that’s why I radioed in her license plate.”
“That’s Doris Matheson! Get out of there! Get out of
there now!”
Too late! She was standing next to Deputy Dawson’s
cruiser.
“Why hello there, Deputy. Am I glad to see you?” Her
broad toothy smile was brilliant. The laugh lines about her mouth and eyes
added character to her lovely face.
Hand resting on his service weapon, Deputy Dawson eased
out of the cruiser. “I—I clocked you at going sixty-eight miles an hour back
there.”
She batted her eyes, which he saw were gray. “Really?
Come inside and we’ll talk about it.”
Before he could object, she spun on her high heeled
boots and trotted up the steps into the library.
“But I really need to be going.” With her running away,
he had no choice but to follow her.
“I’ve been working here at this library for forty
years,” she said while unlocking the library doors. “I was only eighteen years
old when I married Kirk Matheson and moved up here to Harpers Ferry to live on
his grandpappy’s farm.” She led him into the reception area where she tossed
her handbag onto the counter. “My late husband was in law enforcement.” She
hurried into the spacious sunny area of the children’s library.
“Was he really?” the deputy rushed to keep up.
“Kirk worked his way up to local captain of the state
police. We had Christopher right away. He just retired from the FBI a couple of
years ago.” With a sigh, she went to a tall pile of beanbag chair and tossed
one to the deputy. “Help me put these out to form a big circle.”
Uncertain about whether he should object or do as he was
told, Deputy Dawson stared at her with the beanbag filling his arms.
“Don’t just stand there staring like a boy at his first
school dance,” Doris said in a firm tone. “Story Time starts in five minutes.
We need to get ready. I’ll toss the bags to you and you make the reading
circle.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He
placed the bag where he was told and turned in time to catch the next one and
next one while she continued.
“We had a good life,” she said as she tossed the bags to
him. “It broke my heart when Kirk had that heart attack and a couple of years
ago.”
“I’m sorry for your loss, ma’am,” the deputy said. “But
about your speeding―”
“Just the year before Kirk passed away, my
daughter-in-law Blair was killed in that awful terrorist attack in Nice. I
thank God that Christopher and the girls had decided to stay here in the states
when Blair took that job with the state department. Otherwise, they would have
been there. That was hard enough. But when Kirk died, everything fell into
place. Christopher always loved the farm. He’s happiest out there working with
the horses. How many seats do you have?”
“Fifteen,” the deputy answered.
“That should be enough.” She hurried through the
reception area and into a small kitchen. “Now we have to get the snacks ready.”
“Ma’am, you were speeding.”
In the kitchen, she turned took a canister of cheese
crackers from counter and held them out to him. “Excuse me?” She gazed at him with soulful gray eyes.
“You were going
thirteen miles over the speed limit.”
The corner of
her mouth kicked up. “Goldfish?”
Unable to
resist, he reached into the canister and removed a small handful. “I’m going to
have to give you a ticket.” He tossed a couple into his mouth and offered an
apologetic grin.
“You don’t want
to give me a ticket.”
Deputy Dawson
stood up tall. He squared his shoulders. “Yes, I do.”
“When was the
last time your radar gun was calibrated?”
Deputy Dawson
blinked.
“Take these out
and put them on the snack table.” She held out the canister of crackers and a
bowl to the deputy.
He carried them
out to the children’s library.
She followed
with an armload of package of Oreo cookies and a platter. “Did you know that generally, a radar gun needs to
be calibrated every thirty to sixty days? Different states have different
requirements. In some states, the unit must be calibrated every time a ticket
has been issued.” She paused in arranging the cookies on the platter to turn to
him. “Did you issue a ticket today?”
Deputy
Dawson stammered out that he had given out a ticket an hour earlier.
“You only
determined my speed by that gun,” she said. “Did you know that there are
exactly five ways to determine the speed of a car? You used radar. But there is
also VASCAR, pacing, airspeed detection, which I know Sheriff Bassett doesn’t
use, and laser. Now that radar is the most unreliable method used and you
haven’t calibrated that gun since the last time you used it.” She folded her
arms, “Now, Deputy Dawson, here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to fight
that ticket, which will mean you will have to go into court and tell Harold—”
“Harold?”
“Judge Taylor,”
she said. “Harold is going to have to listen you tell your pathetic story about
how you stopped in here at the library to help yourself to a snack.”
“You offered.
You didn’t pull over and I had to chase you in here!”
“And I guess
you’re going to tell the judge that while you were in hot pursuit, I forced you
to help me set up the library for Story Time?”
“Now wait a
minute—”
“Let’s suppose
Harold did believe your story,” she said while picking up a cookie, “What are
your friends going to think when they find out that a sixty-five-year-old woman
outran you?” She bit into the cookie.
Staring at her,
Deputy Mitch Dawson tried to sort out what had just happened.
She picked up
the platter of cookies and held it out to him. “Help yourself to a cookie.”
He took a
cookie and shuffled toward the door. As he opened it, a mob of young children
and their parents spilled inside.
“Thank you for your
help, Deputy Dawson,” Doris said.
“Don’t mention
it,” he muttered.
Click here to visit the tour tour and read reviews, more guest posts and enter the giveaway.
is a terrific addition to this series. Each new book in this series becomes my new favorite. J.C. Eaton never disappoints.
