Sewed Up Tight (A Quilters Club Mystery No. 5) (Quilters Club Mysteries) Read Online Free PDF
Author: Marjory Sorrell Rockwell
folks wanting to visit their dearly departed.
He hadn’t always thought of himself in this way, but a few months back he watched the movie version of Andrew Rice Weber’s Phantom of the Opera and it had made an impression on him. He was kinda like that dude, haunting the Paris Opera House. But in his case it was the Beasley Mansion.
As The Phantom wandered along the graveled pathway, he read off the names on nearby tombstones – Yost, Wilkins, Taylor, Marsch, Hitzer, Aitkens, Duncan, Johnson, Daniels, Periwinkle, Bentley, etc. But the founders’ names – Caruthers, Jinks, Madison, even Beasley – were etched on the stone lintels of the mausoleums in the older part of the cemetery.
Pleasant Glades had been officially named back in 1943 when taken over by Midwestern Funeral Parlors, now a large conglomerate (MFP, Inc.) that managed more cemeteries than funeral homes. But the site had been used as a cemetery since the founding of the town some 185 years ago. The older portion was down the hill in a little valley near the creek. There the tombstones and crypts were covered with mossy algae, making them appear a greenish gray. Despite the historic “residents,” this section got less maintenance, creating the appearance of an abandoned ghost town.
The Phantom thought that was a most appropriate description of this little village of tumbledown mausoleums: ghost town. He’d been afraid to come here as a child. But his father had been a regular visitor.
He had left town for a while – the necessity of his job – but now he was back he intended to claim his true heritage as one of descendants of the town’s founders. No longer would he be ashamed to show his face. Next election, he would overthrow the current mayor and assume the office himself.
People would soon be looking up to him as a powerful force in local politics. He even had a proper home in mind, a stately edifice that would proclaim his lofty status – the Beasley Mansion. And he had a plan how to acquire it, although it required a degree of stealth and chicanery.
But that was no problem for The Phantom. His bipolarism was given to grandiose thoughts. No matter that this manic-depressive condition vacillated from exhilarating highs to deep funks. He’d been off his meds for a couple of years now, freeing him from a drug-addled state to being his true self. Half crazed, to be sure. But with sharp thinking and a feral cleverness that allowed him to become The Phantom.
Pulling out a rusty key, he placed it in the lock of one of the mausoleums and let himself into the stone edifice. There he unloaded a knapsack containing several bars of polystyrene, a rigid synthetic plastic. Designated as a B3 product, it is highly flammable. He stacked the bars on the far side of the dank room away from the bottles of benzene, itself a colorless and highly flammable liquid derived from petroleum. Its sweet smell permeated the interior of the mausoleum.
Next trip he’d bring in the cans of gasoline. He’d need to buy the gas a few gallons at a time, so as not to arouse suspicion. Pretty soon he’d have all the ingredients to formulate Napalm B, the incendiary agent made famous by Robert Duvall in Apocalypse Now , raving about loving its smell in the morning.
The ratio of 21% benzene, 33% gasoline, and 46% polystyrene was pretty easy for a guy with a good knowledge of chemistry. The trick was using an effective pyrotechnic initiator like white phosphorous to set it off. Done right, this firebomb could burn for up to ten minutes.
That ought to take down the Town Hall.
CHAPTER SIX
The Gates of Heaven
A fter sobering up, Jasper Beanie had been released from the holding cell in the Caruthers Corners Police Station – not that Chief Purdue had bothered to lock the door. Jasper hurried back to Pleasant Glades to unlock the gate and right any flower vases that might have fallen over in last night’s wind. It was important to maintain a neat and
He hadn’t always thought of himself in this way, but a few months back he watched the movie version of Andrew Rice Weber’s Phantom of the Opera and it had made an impression on him. He was kinda like that dude, haunting the Paris Opera House. But in his case it was the Beasley Mansion.
As The Phantom wandered along the graveled pathway, he read off the names on nearby tombstones – Yost, Wilkins, Taylor, Marsch, Hitzer, Aitkens, Duncan, Johnson, Daniels, Periwinkle, Bentley, etc. But the founders’ names – Caruthers, Jinks, Madison, even Beasley – were etched on the stone lintels of the mausoleums in the older part of the cemetery.
Pleasant Glades had been officially named back in 1943 when taken over by Midwestern Funeral Parlors, now a large conglomerate (MFP, Inc.) that managed more cemeteries than funeral homes. But the site had been used as a cemetery since the founding of the town some 185 years ago. The older portion was down the hill in a little valley near the creek. There the tombstones and crypts were covered with mossy algae, making them appear a greenish gray. Despite the historic “residents,” this section got less maintenance, creating the appearance of an abandoned ghost town.
The Phantom thought that was a most appropriate description of this little village of tumbledown mausoleums: ghost town. He’d been afraid to come here as a child. But his father had been a regular visitor.
He had left town for a while – the necessity of his job – but now he was back he intended to claim his true heritage as one of descendants of the town’s founders. No longer would he be ashamed to show his face. Next election, he would overthrow the current mayor and assume the office himself.
People would soon be looking up to him as a powerful force in local politics. He even had a proper home in mind, a stately edifice that would proclaim his lofty status – the Beasley Mansion. And he had a plan how to acquire it, although it required a degree of stealth and chicanery.
But that was no problem for The Phantom. His bipolarism was given to grandiose thoughts. No matter that this manic-depressive condition vacillated from exhilarating highs to deep funks. He’d been off his meds for a couple of years now, freeing him from a drug-addled state to being his true self. Half crazed, to be sure. But with sharp thinking and a feral cleverness that allowed him to become The Phantom.
Pulling out a rusty key, he placed it in the lock of one of the mausoleums and let himself into the stone edifice. There he unloaded a knapsack containing several bars of polystyrene, a rigid synthetic plastic. Designated as a B3 product, it is highly flammable. He stacked the bars on the far side of the dank room away from the bottles of benzene, itself a colorless and highly flammable liquid derived from petroleum. Its sweet smell permeated the interior of the mausoleum.
Next trip he’d bring in the cans of gasoline. He’d need to buy the gas a few gallons at a time, so as not to arouse suspicion. Pretty soon he’d have all the ingredients to formulate Napalm B, the incendiary agent made famous by Robert Duvall in Apocalypse Now , raving about loving its smell in the morning.
The ratio of 21% benzene, 33% gasoline, and 46% polystyrene was pretty easy for a guy with a good knowledge of chemistry. The trick was using an effective pyrotechnic initiator like white phosphorous to set it off. Done right, this firebomb could burn for up to ten minutes.
That ought to take down the Town Hall.
CHAPTER SIX
The Gates of Heaven
A fter sobering up, Jasper Beanie had been released from the holding cell in the Caruthers Corners Police Station – not that Chief Purdue had bothered to lock the door. Jasper hurried back to Pleasant Glades to unlock the gate and right any flower vases that might have fallen over in last night’s wind. It was important to maintain a neat and
Similar Books
The End of the Book
Porter Shreve
In any ordinary life (In any oridnary Book 1)
Clare Stanley Midgley
Web of Lies
Beverley Naidoo
Undying Hunger
Jessica Lee
Let's All Kill Constance
Ray Bradbury
The Call
Elí Freysson
Handsome Devil
Ava Argent
The White Road
Lynn Flewelling
Jealous in July (Spring River Valley Book 7)
Clarice Wynter