The peaceful Virginia community in Mason County is divided,
tempers are hot and it looks like things could easily
explode as tensions are high for everyone. Ever since the
Packard Development Company started offering big cash
payments in a small town with high unemployment and low
incomes, former friends and neighbours quickly become
divided over what should happen. Some want and need the jobs
and the cash while others just want to live peacefully in
their homes and on their farms.
Things are bad enough with the heated words and minor
vandalisms, but when a well-liked couple who look like they
are not willing to sell their farm are gunned down in cold
blood in their own backyard, things really start to turn
ugly. Used to speaking her own mind, Rachel Goddard, the
County's veterinarian and relative newcomer to the area, is
miffed when her beloved husband, Sherriff Tom Bridger,
attempts to rein her in. Can Rachel just stand aside when
her friend, Joanna McKendrick, gets attacked?
With fewer people holding out, the developer ratchets up the
pressure and life gets worse for those looking deeper at
what lies under the glitter of the polished words.
Meanwhile, as Tom and his deputies continue to investigate
what happened at the Kelly's farm, more disturbing
information comes to light. Can something else be going on
besides the fight over property rights?
POISONED GROUND is the sixth book in the popular Rachel
Goddard mystery series written by Sandra Parshall, a
well-
regarded and Agatha Award author who is very knowledgeable
about the Virginia area in which she sets this intriguing
series. While Parshall's fans will certainly relish this
follow-up book to Bleeding Through, it also reads very well
as a standalone novel.
In POISONED GROUND, Parshall paints a stark story of small
town meanness that is nicely balanced by the kindness and
support of friends to each other when adversity strikes. The
story has a strong plot, a well written narrative and lots
of characters with the potential to be suspects for the
murders involved. Without giving away too much in the story,
many other interesting themes are nicely intertwined into
this powerful story focusing on big land development versus
the rights of property owners.
I am sure Parshall fans, both existing and new, will find
this a fast paced mystery with its relatively short chapters
to be highly engaging and captivating. Personally, I found
POISONED GROUND a hard book to put down and it is the first
book I had read in the series. I definitely will be looking
to read the five earlier books as well as looking to more in
this series in the future! I think mystery loving fans
wanting to be engrossed and well rooted in a good
"whodoneit", need look no further than to POISONED GROUND!
When a powerful development company sets its sights on Mason
County, Virginia, as the location for a sprawling resort for
the rich, the locals begin taking sides. Many residents see
the resort as economic salvation for the small Blue Ridge
Mountains community, while others fear the county will
become financially dependent on a predatory company. Few
oppose the development more vocally than veterinarian Rachel
Goddard. She sides with locals reluctant to sell their land
and, in the process, complicates the life of her new
husband, Sheriff Tom Bridger.
When a beloved couple is gunned down on the farm they
refused to sell, it seems supporters will stop at nothing to
ensure the success of the resort. Disagreement in the
community explodes into civil war with both sides lashing
out. Can she bring the truth to light before her community
tears itself apart?
Excerpt
Poisoned Ground
By Sandra Parshall
Chapter One
Rachel Goddard drove up to Joanna McKendrick’s brick farmhouse to make a routine
veterinary call and discovered her friend standing on the porch, pointing a shotgun at
a man in a business suit.
What on earth? Rachel pulled her Range Rover to a stop on the narrow farm lane and
jumped out. A wicked cold wind whipped her auburn hair across her eyes and she had to
hold it back with both hands to take a closer look at the surreal scene before her.
The man at the end of Joanna’s shotgun barrel was unmistakable, with his beaky nose
and rooster comb of reddish brown hair: Robert McClure, president of Mason County’s
oldest and largest bank. Holding up one hand as if to fend off an attack and clutching
a briefcase with the other, he backed toward the steps.
Rachel couldn’t catch most of the words pouring out of Joanna, but her fury came
through loud and clear.
“Joanna,” Rachel called. “What’s going on?”
“Stay out of this,” Joanna yelled back.
Under a glowering November sky, the wind rattled bare tree branches and sent a few
dead leaves tumbling down the driveway. Rachel glanced up the road to a cluster of
small houses where the farm employees lived, and beyond to the horse paddocks and the
rolling hills. Where was everybody? Hadn’t anybody else noticed what was happening
here?
When Rachel swung her gaze back to the porch, Joanna had advanced on McClure, forcing
him to the edge of the steps. Another few inches and he would tumble backwards.
Rachel jogged across the lawn to the bottom of the steps. From behind the glass storm
door, Joanna’s two dogs barked to get Rachel’s attention. Nan, a golden retriever,
wagged her tail, and the mutt Riley stood up against the glass, scratching and whining
for release. Rachel had come over this afternoon to vaccinate the dogs and the barn
cats, but it might be a while before she fetched her medical case from her vehicle.
His right hand still raised, McClure half-turned toward Rachel. “I’m glad to see you,
Dr. Goddard. ” He sounded calm. In his pinstriped suit and tie he might have been
greeting her at his office under normal conditions, not at a horse farm while its
owner held a gun on him. But his tall, bony body looked rigid with tension and he held
his briefcase in a white-knuckled grip.
“Joanna,” Rachel repeated, “what’s going on?”
“Honey, you know I love you like a daughter, but I have to ask you to please shut up
and butt out. And if Robert knows what’s good for him, he’ll get off my property and
he won’t come back.”
A fit and still youthful woman in late middle age, Joanna normally tackled problems
with an unflustered, practical attitude. Rachel had never seen her like this, her
cheeks flaming, strawberry blond hair tangled by the wind, hands trembling so
violently that the gun barrel jerked up and down. She kept a finger on the trigger.
“But—” Rachel waved a hand, indicating both Joanna and McClure. “This is... bizarre.”
“I just want him to leave.” Joanna feinted with the shotgun.
McClure took a quick step backward into empty air. Arms flailing, fighting for
balance, he dropped his briefcase and lurched backward down the steps.
Rachel jumped onto the bottom step and caught his arm to break his fall. “Are you
okay?”
“I’m fine, thank you.” McClure’s face flushed crimson. He pulled his arm from Rachel’s
grasp, straightened his suit jacket, and snatched his briefcase from the steps. “I
came here to offer Joanna the deal of a lifetime, and I expected a civilized response.
I got a gun in my face instead.”
“Civilized?” Joanna cried. “After what you said to me? You threatened me.””
McClure snorted. “Oh, Joanna, don’t be so melodramatic.”
“Threatened you how?” Rachel climbed the steps to stand beside Joanna.
“I did not threaten her,” McClure said. “I simply pointed out—”
“He told me I’d be sorry if everybody else sells their land to Packard and I’m the
only holdout. The whole county will blame me if Packard backs out. He said they’ll
come after me, they’ll make me pay one way or another. If that’s not a threat, I don’t
know what is.”
McClure shook his head, making his cock’s comb of hair bounce. “You’re misconstruing—”
“Those statements are pretty hard to misconstrue,” Rachel said. “Who are you talking
about, anyway? Who’s agreed to sell?”
“Nobody,” Joanna cut in, before McClure had a chance to answer.
McClure’s lips twitched in a faint, condescending smile that made Rachel want to kick
him in the shin. “Actually, we’ve already reached agreements with Jake Hollinger and
Tavia Richardson. I’ve been authorized as Packard’s agent to offer very generous
payments, and they couldn’t turn down a windfall like this. I think the Jones sisters
and the Kellys will come around—”
“Lincoln and Marie Kelly will never sell their farm,” Joanna protested. “If Packard
wants to build one of their fancy resorts in Mason County, they can do it on somebody
else’s land. I don’t want their money. I want to be left alone to raise my horses and
run my business.”
“You know the whole county is depending on this development to create a lot of new
jobs.” A pained expression creased his brow. “Each sale is dependent on every sale
going through. If you hold out, the project won’t go forward.”
“Fine,” Joanna snapped. “That’s exactly what I want.”
McClure extended a hand palm-up as if entreating her to come to her senses. “As I told
you, a lot of people will be very angry if you block this project.”
“And I told you not to threaten me.”
“I’m not—”
“Why do they have to have Joanna’s farm?” Rachel asked.
McClure hesitated and seemed to debate with himself before answering. “I probably
shouldn’t tell you this, but I want to be honest. They’ve determined that this is the
only suitable place in the county for what they propose. We’re standing on the spot
where they want to build the lodge. They want to offer horseback riding, so it’s an
advantage to buy a property already equipped to keep horses. Joanna, you’re in a
position to make a very lucrative deal, if you—”
“Are you saying they’ve already designed it?” Joanna demanded.
“Without knowing whether they can get the property they need?” Rachel added.
“That’s the way these things are done.”
These things. As if McClure, a small-town banker in the Blue Ridge Mountains of
southwestern Virginia, had a wealth of experience with high-end development. Rachel
almost laughed. “How could an architect draw up a plan without knowing what the land
is like? Oh, wait a minute. They did know. They’ve been out here, haven’t they?
Without Joanna’s permission. Or did they fly over?”
McClure, clearly losing patience with Rachel’s interference, threw an irritated look
her way. He directed his words at Joanna. “Does it really matter? Nobody trespassed,
if that’s what you’re worried about.”
Joanna had her gun up all the way again. “I’ve never seen such arrogance in my life.
You tell them to take their damned design and stuff it. Now I want you to get—”
The crack of a gunshot in the distance cut her off. The three of them swiveled their
heads west, toward the sound.
Rachel felt suspended, waiting for something more.
“It’s just a hunter,” McClure suggested with an indifferent shrug. “They’ve been out
in the woods all week looking for wild turkeys for Thanksgiving.”
A second shot rang out. Rachel’s heart broke into a gallop, the way it always did when
she heard a gun fired.
Joanna lowered her weapon. “That came from the Kelly farm.”
“Maybe they’re trying to bag a turkey too,” McClure suggested. “Or thinning out the
rabbits.”
Rachel shook her head. “They wouldn’t shoot animals.”
“Robert,” Joanna said, “I don’t see how you could’ve worked with Lincoln at the bank
all those years and still not know a damn thing about him and Marie. They keep pet
rabbits in the house, for god’s sake, and Marie puts out food for the wild animals.
They don’t even own a gun. And they don’t allow anybody to hunt on their land.”
A third shot made them all flinch.
“I don’t like this.” Rachel pulled her cell phone from her jacket pocket. “If
something’s wrong over there, we can’t stand here wasting time.”
She punched the speed dial number to call her husband, Sheriff Tom Bridger.
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