The Morris Mysteries

The Complete Series

Shawn Jolley

Copyright © 2021 Shawn Jolley.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, contact the publisher, subject Attention: Permissions Coordinator, at the website below.

ISBN: 9798589511987 (Paperback)

ISBN: 9798731295956 (Hardcover)

Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Names, characters, and places are products of the author's imagination.

Independently published.

First printing 2021.

www.shawnjolley.com

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Contents

1.Missing

1. The Morris Mysteries #1

2.Murder

2. The Morris Mysteries #2

3.Mayhem

3. The Morris Mysteries #3

4.Mirage

4. The Morris Mysteries #4

Author Newsletter

Books by Author

About the Author

Missing

The Morris Mysteries #1

My parents named me Evan Morris. They died when I was fifteen years old. I remember when the doctor told me about their deaths, I punched the hospital wall and cried in the hallway. He didn't try to prepare me for the heart-wrenching news that would change my life forever. He didn't sit me down. There wasn't a moment of hesitation on his part. He just stated their demise, plain and simple.

Their deaths were sudden, he said. They stalled on the tracks and the train couldn't stop in time. I'm sorry.

I stared at him after he said that. Just for a moment. Of course, I wasn't really looking at him. I was looking at my life through a microscope. Everything was fuzzy and bulbous—I think it was a blur of memory. I remember seeing red. I didn't feel pain when my knuckles hit the wall, but my hand did start to bleed and somebody put a bandage on it.

The doctor left me with a tall social worker who drove me to a cramped brick building on the edge of town where I fell asleep. On the car ride over, I was asked if I wanted to talk, but I didn't. I don't remember anything else about that day. All the days that followed were a similar haze of emotionless faces and lengthy meetings. Mostly, for grief counseling.

Without any siblings or nearby relatives, I was left alone in the world.

After a month of waiting in the custody of the state, I traveled 800 miles across the country to live with my Uncle Cecil: my only living relative. The majority of my journey was made by rail because nobody wanted to drive me and there were no airports near the small western town where he was currently living. I was told that he traveled frequently for his job.

What does he do for a living? I asked the social worker on my last day in the cramped brick building.

He'll be able to tell you more than I can. Some sort of freelancer or contractor.

I didn't press for more details.

The train ride took three days. I rode alone in an empty compartment never venturing out except to use the shared bathroom. The train was almost completely empty. The rest of the passengers seemed keen to keep to themselves. That was fine by me.

Food arrived just inside my doorway three times a day. Whenever the train stopped, I simply glanced out the window to see where we were. Mostly, I saw a lot of dirt and sagebrush with the occasional rural building off in the distance.

Before I had left the city, the tall social worker assured me that my uncle would be waiting for me when I got off the train. However, when I arrived on the dusty platform, there was not another soul in sight. A few buildings ran along a street not far from the platform, but it was difficult to tell what they were because I could only see their backends. Not knowing what else to do, I sat down on one of the wooden benches.

About an hour went by.

I was staring at a prickly cactus just off the edge of the platform when a voice startled me.

Interesting plants, huh?

I turned to see a girl sitting on the edge of the bench. She looked taller than me and had long black hair tied into a ponytail. I thought her skin looked incredibly white for someone sitting in the middle of the desert. I wondered where she had come from.

Yeah, I said. Very interesting.

I tried to think of something else to say, but my mind went blank. She didn't wait for me to come up with a new subject, though. As if she could read my mind, she answered the questions I didn't even know I had.

I'm Jeanne, and I live here. Here, meaning Oaks Cliff—not off in the boonies. She looked around the empty platform. Not that there's much to do here. She turned back to look at me. Whenever I'm bored, I come to the train station, looking for new people. She cocked her head to one side, and I felt like I needed to tell her my name.

I'm Evan.

I like it. It fits you perfectly. I hope you don't mind that I say so. You just look like an Evan. She hesitated for a moment, then added, Maybe this is totally random, but do you want to get something to eat?

I'm waiting for my uncle, I replied without thinking.

I'd been waiting for an hour already and I was starving. I also thought Jeanne was nice. I wanted to know more about her, and here she was giving me every opportunity. I hoped she wouldn't let my lame excuse send her away.

The diner is right there, she said, nodding toward a small rectangular building not more than one hundred yards away. I'm sure he'll find you without any trouble.

She stood up and smiled. My stomach made an attempt to leap into my throat. She was odd, I knew that, but for the first time since my parents' deaths, I didn't want to be alone.

Even though I had meant to wait on the train platform until my uncle arrived, I had not expected a girl to ask me to come with her. I lifted my suitcase and accompanied her off the platform. As we walked, I thought she would bombard me with questions about where I was from and what I was doing in town, but she said nothing at all. She didn't act like anyone I had ever known before. That was my first impression of her. Different.

We arrived at the diner and Jeanne excused herself to go to the restroom. I found a booth and sat down. It was becoming painfully obvious to me that I didn't know how to talk to girls. I sat awkwardly in the booth and waited for her to return, thinking about what I would say when she did. Nothing came to mind.

That's when a man with brown hair and a tan jacket slid into the seat across from me. Nobody had to tell me he was my uncle. He had the same round nose and small ears as my father.

Evan Morris, he said. I expected to meet you at the train station. Sorry I was a bit late. Need me to buy you something to eat?

He smiled at me and leaned forward as though we knew each other. I had the odd sensation that I was staring at my father. He raised his eyebrows and sniffed. He might have had the beginning or ending stages of a cold.

Sorry about leaving the station, I said. And, I'm not really hungry.

I didn't know whether or not to tell him I was waiting for Jeanne. It already seemed like a strange enough meeting since I had never actually met my uncle before. Several seconds passed. I opened my mouth to try and tell him about meeting someone at the train station when Jeanne walked up and extended her hand to him.

Hello. I'm Jeanne, she said in a cheery tone.

My uncle sat up and shook her hand.

Hello to you too. He glanced at me. Am I in the middle of something? he asked.

We met at the train station, I said.

Jeanne sat down next to me. She smelled like perfume. Judging by the way my uncle's nostrils flared, he smelled it too. He was smiling at me with his hands clasped together on the table. I had no idea what he was thinking.

I hope I didn't get Evan in trouble by bringing him here, said Jeanne. I figured you of all people could find him without any problem.

Ah. I see that I've been recognized. But, no. It's never too difficult to track someone down, especially when there is food nearby.

My uncle winked at me, but I was completely lost.

Um… Uncle Cecil, what— I began.

Just Cecil. There is no point in you always referring to me as uncle. It makes me feel old. Not that it would be too much of an issue if you really wanted to call me that. Either way, I suppose. I'll leave it up to you. Sorry, what were you saying?

Er… I can't remember now…

No problem. I'm sure you'll think of it eventually. In fact, I'm sure we'll have plenty of time to chat later.

Cecil glanced at a golden wristwatch and looked from me to Jeanne then back to me.

I'm sorry, but I need to get back to the motel to do some work. You can meet me there right after you've eaten. Jeanne, you're welcome to come. It's the motel next door. Room 118.

I tried to say something. I'm not sure exactly what. It seemed wrong to let him leave when we had only just met. He put up his hand as he walked away from the table, repeating for me not to worry and to enjoy myself.

I turned back to Jeanne. She didn't move to the other side of the table.

I told you he would find you here, she said.

A waitress walked over with two plates of food. She placed a club sandwich in front of me and walked back behind the counter. Jeanne had the exact same sandwich in front of her.

Sorry if you don't like it. I ordered just as you found a place to sit. Also, don't worry about paying. You're new here.

Thanks. It looks good.

I didn't know what else to add, so I took a bite of sandwich and realized how hungry I was. It was only a matter of minutes before my food was completely gone. Jeanne was about halfway done. She had yet to bombard me with questions.

Do you know my uncle? I asked, remembering what I meant to ask Cecil before he left.

No, not personally. I've just read the paper and heard things from friends and family. People who knew him back when he was growing up here. Is it really all true, though?

I felt stupid for not knowing what she was talking about. I felt my face getting warm.

Um… What?

Jeanne waved her hand and said, You don't have to answer that. I didn't mean to be rude.

I decided to change the subject.

Tell me something about you.

"Me? I'm not interesting. I've lived here my whole life. I walk around town