Graves in the Garden: A Savannah Hartman Mystery

Stories

### Chapter 1: Chapter 1

Texas born and bred, Savannah Hartman is a tough private detective and a lucky one at that. In the past few weeks she’s dealt with cheating spouses, thieves, gold diggers, surly employees, and psycho

Complete Chapters 35

Rating 4.5 ( 59 reviews ) Age Rating mature

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1 – Introductions, Anyone?

I didn’t want to believe that Shawn Greenley was a murderer. The fact was that anyone could have done it. Anyone could have killed her. Anyone could have killed Alena Johnson.

The sheriff’s department has arrested Shawn for her murder, but if they knew about her estranged husband, Gabriel, they’d probably change their minds. Don’t get me wrong. They will find out about him. I mean, after all, I did. I just hope I can find him before they do. Shawn’s sister, Jessica (one of my best friends) is desperate to clear her brother.

This is where I come in. My name is Savannah Hartman. I’m not a police officer. I’m not a bounty hunter. I’m a private detective, although I’m not really a very good one. I think the terminology nowadays is private investigator? Hell, I don’t know.

Personally I think private detective just sounds better. It has a certain ring to it. It has a certain je ne sais quoi, if you will. The term detective kind of reminds me of those old cheesy movies where you would expect lame lines from all the characters. There’s always some sex starved man trying to do the investigating, making you wonder if he’s really working the case or just working on the damsel in distress.

I’d like to say I’m good at my job, but if I did, that would prove just how full of shit I really am. The term “detective” makes me sound so much more professional than the real story. The truth is that I’m just really lucky. Right place/right time kind of moments are the story of my life.

One of my employees is a man named Keith Whitman, even though I prefer to call him “Jackass” most of the time. Don’t get me wrong, he’s not really a complete asshole. He just likes to play one on the TV in his head. In the real world, he’s a pretty nice guy, for a jackass.

Keith is a computer guru. He can hack into anything, anytime, anywhere. He writes software programs, designs websites, and even changes the light bulbs when needed. I swear that man could program a dishwasher to walk a dog if he put his mind to it. Keith’s girlfriend, Claudia Holbrook, is my office manager.

When I got to the office on that fateful Tuesday morning, Keith was sitting at the computer, typing away as usual. His fingers hit the keys so fast and rough that for a moment I thought they would break free from the keyboard and fly across the room, lodging into the wall or with my luck, my forehead.

“You’re early”, said Keith, “Coffee’s ready”. I nodded and headed for the coffee pot on the other side of the room. Keith always made coffee that would knock off the testicles of any bull in any china shop. Most of the time I’d go down the street to Babe’s Coffee Shop, but today, Keith’s coffee would suffice.

“Coffee’s just the way I like it: strong, but with a little cream and sugar”, I said.

“Donut?” asked Keith. His arm was lightly outstretched with the donut box in his hand.

“Don’t mind if I do”, I said, reaching for a bear claw. That was the last pleasant moment of the day, at least, that I can remember. The rest of the day pretty much just went to hell from there.

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### Chapter 2: Chapter 2

That evening, she had the early shift (four to twelve), so she made dinner, ate, took a shower, and then got ready for work. That evening was the last time anyone saw her alive.

Parts of her body were found in her own backyard, buried in a shallow grave in her tulip garden. I say parts because she had been crudely dismembered. Not all of the pieces were there: part of her torso, her right hand, and both feet were found buried in her garden. Her fingertips had been burned off, so DNA testing was required for proper identification.

The sheriff believed that either an animal had run off with the remaining body parts or that the rest of her was buried elsewhere.

Alena was not known for being late to anything , ever , so when she didn’t show up for work on time, it made the pub’s manager, Mitch Redman, a bit uneasy.

“Has anyone heard from Alena?” asked Mitch. “I haven’t been able to reach her. She was supposed to be here over an hour ago”.

Lanie Phillips was the first to speak up. “Nope and that bitch better not call in sick and leave me here to deal with these two losers on my own”, said Lanie, pointing at the two bartenders, Tim Carlson (the local conspiracy theorist) and Dallas Andrews (aka Cowboy).

Lanie was a whopping 5’2”, blond, skinny woman who thought the world revolved around her. During the busy times, it did, well at least in her mind. In reality, Mitch was just waiting for a reason to fire her lazy, stuck up, good-for-nothing ass.

“It’s really not like her to be late”, said Mitch.

“Maybe she discovered a secret government cover-up about the aliens that landed in Arizona and they put her in a far off remote location just to keep her quiet”, said Tim.

Dallas rolled his eyes and said, “Of course it would be secret if it was a government cover-up, ya idiot”.

Mitch just shook his head and walked away. He went into his office and dialed Alena’s number.

The recorded voice on the other end of the line said, “ The number you have dialed is no longer in service. Please check the number and try again ”.

Mitch hung up the phone and said quietly, “Something’s not right”. He paused for a moment, tapped his fingers on the desk, picked up the phone again, and dialed.

“Hope County Sheriff’s Office”, said Jolynn.

“Hey, Jolynn, it’s Mitch Redman. Can I talk to Sheriff Russell, please?”

“Sure thing, Mitch. Hang on. He’s right here”, said Jolynn as she passed the telephone to the sheriff.

“Sheriff Russell. What can I do for ya?”

“Nate, it’s Mitch Redman. Listen, Alena didn’t show up for work today and I was wond-”

“Well that ain’t like her at all. I tell you what: I’ll take a ride out to her place and take a look around, make sure everything’s okay”, said Nate.

“Thanks, Nate. I appreciate it”, said Mitch. He hung up the phone and said to himself, “I sure hope everything’s okay”.

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Authors can write and upload their manuscripts on Inkit for free and writers retain 100% of their copyrights while writing on Inkitt

Readers can read all books for free, without any ads and give the authors feedback.

Books that perform well based on their reader engagement are published on our Galatea app.

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