Murder on Monarch Mountain
The perfect murder, if - a thousand ifs
by
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The murderer pressed his body tightly against the wall of the back porch and waited for just the right moment. He had planned, practiced and anticipated this moment. Nothing can stop me now! The weapon he held in his right, gloved hand caused his hand to cramp. He inched toward the back door and peeked into the kitchen. Her back is to the door. He examined the weapon one more time. Is it sharp enough? He touched the tip of it with his finger, then nodded. NOW! *** The small, unpainted house at the end of the driveway on Monarch Mountain oozed with hospitality, serenity and welcome. It was pristine and rich in heritage, kept that way by the widow who had made it home for seventy years. Elizabeth McNair stirred the big pot of tomatoes she was preparing to put in canning jars while she listened to the soap opera on T. V. A movement on the back porch caught her eye so she stepped to the screen door and pushed it open. Recognition of the intruder immediately angered her but she only had time to gasp loudly and mutter, “You!” before he clamped a hand over her mouth and nose. *** Eighteen-year-old Reggie Dettman sprinted up the narrow driveway toward, what he hoped led to the house he saw from the valley. Rain poured from the sky. If he felt a warning of any kind, a sixth sense to tell him to go in the opposite direction, he was not aware of it. If there were someone lurking in the woods near the house, he did not see them nor was he aware of the horrible scene inside the house. Reggie waited on the porch of the little house for the storm to pass. He heard a faint sound and his eye caught the glimpse of something in the room off the living room. A shadow? The flutter of a curtain? A swinging door? He wasn’t sure which, nor was he going to investigate. Another open window? Another flapping curtain? It’s not my business. A shiver ran through him. He glanced toward the corners of the house. I wish it would stop raining so I could leave *** The Sheriff dutifully secured the house and garage at the murder scene. Detectives photographed the muddy tracks around the house. The trail of deep footprints leaving the house and going down the driveway was photographed and an impression made of one of them with plaster. *** The sounds coming from the Dettman house vary from shouts of disbelief to the consoling voice of the Sheriff – the wail of a mother to the brusque denial of a father – the surprise of a sleepy boy at an accusation he cannot comprehend and the loud screams of denial erupting from inside him. Then there is the low, course voice of the sheriff attempting to offer assurance as he watches innocence soft and trusting, begin the process of distrusting and hardening, and then what will most likely turn to resentment, bitterness and revenge as he encounters hardened, guilty miss-fits of the jailhouses. The silhouette on the shade is that of a shirtless teenage boy as he gestures signs of disbelief, then collapses on the sofa, then buries his face in his trembling hands. The mother rushes to comfort him. The father stands over them. Then there is the silhouette of the sheriff as he removes the handcuffs from his belt, pulls the boy to his feet and fastens his hands behind his back. They move to the front door then walk down the steps to the waiting patrol car. The two police cars slowly make their way out the driveway. The boy’s parents follow in the family’s pickup truck.
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About the Book
Eighteen-year-old Reggie Dettman from Philadelphia, Mississippi, waits out a violent storm on the front porch of a stranger’s small, neat, house on Monarch Mountain, Arkansas. He knocks and calls, but no one answers. He is unaware of the horrible crime that has just been committed in the kitchen or that the killer is watching him from his hiding place. The hurricane-like wind is blowing rain through an open window into the living room. Reggie tugs on the screen door to go inside to close the window. It is latched from the inside so he eases along the eaves of the house and removes the screen from the window so he can close it. He sees movement inside.
There has never been a murder on Monarch Mountain and the entire community of Crystal Ridge, Arkansas blames the only stranger in their community – a hippy who is there under the guise of a book salesman.
Marty and Angelette witness the murderer’s strange behavior at Lovers Bluff but because of their clandestine meeting, they are afraid to report it.
How can the wounds of the victims of gossip be salved? The words cannot be taken back, the wounds are deep and destructive. Who will judge and give justice?
You will be riveted by the suspense of who killed Elizabeth McNair. The surprising twists and turns woven into the plot will keep you glued to the pages.
To do justice and judgment
is more acceptable to the LORD
than sacrifice.
Proverbs 21:3
The Bible (KJV)
About the Author
Ellen Williamson is a native of She is the mother of three children, James Daniels, Stan Daniels and Lori Weatherford, two grandchildren, Carmen James and Roger Cameron and one great-grandson, Jesse Wayne James. After raising her family and retiring, she began writing and has now completed seven novels. Murder on In addition to writing, she is an inspirational speaker and is available for speaking engagements at churches and civic groups. You may learn more about Ms. Williamson and how to contact her through her web site: www.ellenwilliamson.com or by e-mail authorellen@wmconnect.com.