The Lush Life

A Samantha Jamison Mystery

Book 8

by

Peggy A. Edelheit

Chase your Dreams

& Remember,

Every Day is a Blessing

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events or locales is entirely coincidental.

The Lush Life: A Samantha Jamison Mystery Book 8

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Copyright © 2014 by Peggy A. Edelheit. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this eBook, or portions thereof, in any form. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical without the express written permission of the author. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this eBook via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials.

The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

Cover art:

Copyright © iStockPhoto/2154353/dehooks

Edited by Winslow Eliot

Published by Telemachus Press, LLC

http://www.telemachuspress.com

Visit the author’s website

http://www.samanthajamison.com

ISBN 978-1-938135-97-2 (eBook)

2015..05.28

Other Books by Peggy A. Edelheit

The Samantha Jamison Mystery Series

The Puzzle Book 1

Without Any Warning Book 2

86 Avenue du Goulet Book 3

A Lethal Time Book 4

Mouth of the Rat Book 5

Death Knell in the Alps Book 6

No Hope In New Hope Book 7

Too Close For Comfort Book 9

Memoir: The Riviera is Burning

Visit my website: http://samanthajamison.com

Dedication

With love to my husband

My biggest supporter and confidant

& my three sons

Acknowledgments

A Special thanks to

My Editor

Winslow Eliot

Publisher

Telemachus Press

Steven & Terri Himes

Steven & Claudia Jackson

The Lush Life

A Samantha Jamison Mystery

Book 8

Chapter 1

Hung Up On The Details

My definition of murder: intentional killing of a person, mainly with premeditated malice.

Check.

So far I qualified.

Come to think of it, I qualified on all counts.

I was okay with the premeditation part, I certainly felt malice. I even had justification: a damn good excuse.

Why?

My ever-challenging and sporadic sleuthing partner in crime, Clay, had made a promise involving me without asking me first, taking advantage of our relationship.

As a mystery author, I wrote about them: murders, that is, but this time I felt like committing one, especially after Clay never bothered checking with me. It didn’t involve the Worth Art Gallery he recently considered acquiring. That deadly deal was history. No, this involved me housesitting.

After selling their art gallery to someone else, Clay’s friends, Alicia and Chris Worth, decided to take their trip to Europe for a month so they could collect some personal art. They asked Clay if he’d work from their house until they got back. Busy sidetracked with a new investigation, Clay promised them I’d do it. So my evil thoughts flourished.

But then Clay clarified the Worths’ no-can-lose freebie.

They were so impressed with our investigative skills in solving the problems plaguing their gallery, they suggested we continue to stay in their old, stone French house while they were gone, as well as Martha, Hazel and Betty: my senior-sleuthing crew. If Clay was needed elsewhere, like now, he could just leave and return anytime he wanted to.

I’d use Alicia’s home office, Clay would use Chris’s. The house was located minutes from downtown New Hope, an hour fifteen minutes from New York City, an hour from Philadelphia and two from both the beach and mountains.

Now, as far as murder was concerned, I had seriously contemplated the dastardly act when Clay first told me, but after some reflection, especially after they topped it off by offering me the use of their master suite, I reconsidered.

I’d get to live the lush life plus receive a cash bonus.

Alicia’s office turned out to be the perfect place to finish my seventh mystery, No Hope In New Hope, the one about art fraud. But after I hit the attachment tab to send that manuscript off to my editor, I just sat… and sat, tapping my finger on my laptop. Now what would I do?

The driveway annunciator buzzed: a car. I opened the foyer door, registering shock. “Mona?” I hugged her then glanced behind her… no car. “Who left you off so fast?”

She leaned in, winking and whispering, “He did.”

“Who’s he?” I asked, still gaping at her standing there.

My former college friend quickly shoved me back inside and slammed the door behind her. “My potential fiancé!”

I barely choked out, “...You have another one?”

“Don’t be snarky,” she said. “You know all about him!”

I stood there vigorously shaking my head. “Nuh-uh.”

“You invited me here, remember?” Mona persisted.

“Invited you… here? To the Worths’ house?”

“Don’t play around,” hissed my ample-figured, quirky, and impulsive friend. “This could be life or death!”

“How come everything with you is life or death?”

“Look, we’re pressed to the wall here,” she countered.

I paused. “...We? Same old, just a different day, right?”

Still leaning into me closely, dark-haired Mona began perspiring. Odd, considering it was cool out. What was she really up to? There was normally a degree of suspicion in the air whenever Mona called or showed up. I tried to shake off a sense of foreboding on another repeat episode. She was obviously under the gun, pushing this, this… what?

Footsteps approached. We both looked toward the door.

Mona lowered her voice. “We’ll talk later, okay?”

Now curious, I relented. “We better because...”

Mona silenced me and opened the door. “Teddy!”

Beyond Mona stood a fine masterpiece of manliness: one hot-looking guy about six foot-three, muscled, solid as a rock, light brown wavy hair that curled at the collar and the deepest blue eyes...

This vision was Mona’s fiancé?

I hesitated then stuck out my hand awkwardly.

“...Uh, hi. I’m Samantha.”

Teddy sized me up: my thin figure, long blonde hair, fair complexion. I was the polar opposite of Mona.

“...Mona, she’s your sister?”

My eyes darted to Mona’s. ...Sister?

Mona gave me a cheerful smile and a sly wink.

I had ventured into Mona’s skillset once again. Lying.

Chapter 2

But Then Again, Why Not?

Mona bit her lip. “A real surprise to some, right, Sam?”

Responsible for this home, my eyes veered to Teddy. He appeared distracted by two oil paintings hanging above the Worths’ foyer table or was he more interested in the framed antique mirror between them?

Who was this guy? What was this fiancé thing?

I smiled tightly. “Yup, it’s always a real surprise.”

Mona gave me a slight nod of relief.

“You got my email about our arrival, right?” she asked.

I glanced from Mona to Teddy, who was now watching and waiting for my response to Mona. I was flying blind here. I raked my fingers through my hair then played along.

“Sure. How long were you two planning to stay?”

“...Uh, just a few days,” Mona said, now relaxing.

“But all that’s left is the apartment over the garages.”

Mona frowned. “No other rooms are available?”

I faltered. “...Why, are more people coming?”

“No, but it’s such a big house. I thought...”

Then I realized she didn’t know. “The ladies are here,”

She eye-rolled. “Just what I needed: that senior trio.”

“I thought you’d be more excited,” I said, smirking.

“Can’t wait to see them,” she threw back, brightly.

Sure didn’t sound it.

“Don’t you have bags to bring in?” I asked.

Mona turned to Teddy. “Do you mind getting them?”

Tossing her a megawatt smile, he said, “Sure, Baby.”

After Mona closed the door, I choked out, “...Baby?”

“Hey, he’s no mental workout, but the rest of him does.”

“What’s going on? What’s with the fiancé routine?”

“He thinks you’re my long lost sister and...”

I cut her off. “Now where did he get that crazy idea?”

“I’m not getting all your questions...”

I pushed back once again. “But this isn’t my house...”

“I know that, but he doesn’t. That’s why we’re here.”

She always talked in circles. “For what, may I ask?”

“Are you dense? For what might be going down!”

I swallowed hard, knowing her and not liking where this conversation was heading. “...Going down? Where?”

Mona glanced at those two paintings over the foyer table then turned back to me clearly disturbed by my response to her arrival. “Why, here, of course!”

“I’m hearing and so not liking what you just said.”

“You’re the one who preaches expect the unexpected!”

“And the unexpected involves this particular location?”

“And my skills,” said, Mona, losing her patience.

“Sorry, Mona, I need more than that to go on.”

“What’s with you? Why are you acting this way, Sam?”

I knew her now familiar modus operandi of stretching the truth. “I’m gun-shy from past experience,” I countered.

“Then consider this encounter one more learning curve.”

“In what, how to dodge another bullet?”

“Like the saying goes: practice makes perfect.”

There were info gaps in Mona’s unexpected appearance and exactly why she was here a mile wide.

“Ah, the expert at taking literary license (lying) speaks,” I shot back.

She gave a sly grin. “I leave the literary to you. I have the license to carry a gun. When called to duty, I show up. It’s as simple as that.”

Called to duty? That last cliché got me. “By whom?”

Mona’s phone dinged then she held up her finger while she read a text message. I tried to read it, too, but she hastily deleted it so I couldn’t then she said, “Hey, I should keep an eye on Teddy. We’ll talk later.”

I was left standing in the foyer as Mona took off for the side entrance to join Teddy and help empty their car.

I reluctantly shut the door, muttering, “Yeah, but by that time I’ll be regretting I ever opened the door on this one.”

As I exited the foyer, I considered the significance of Mona’s sudden reappearance, grudgingly admitting it just might be the diversion I needed from a month of boredom that was already staring me in the face: babysitting this house. Clay had already taken off for his next case and my last mystery was put to bed. So why all the foot-dragging on my part? Why was I resisting what had unexpectedly arrived at my doorstep? I laughed.

Because big trouble always followed Mona, that’s why.

Chapter 3

Deal Or No Deal

My definition of a zoo: A place or situation that’s crowded, or a group that is loud and uncontrolled. That accurately would describe the Worths’ house once Martha, Betty, and Hazel learned the thirtyish duo, Mona and her fiancé, Teddy, were in residence over the Worths’ garages.

So with Clay long gone by the time Mona and her honey arrived, I figured that was probably a good thing. He would have wanted to hang around to scrutinize Teddy, before the three ladies had the chance to first check him out (ogle him) then digitally probe his background.

I was relieved when I caught Teddy trailing after Mona, toting two carry-on bags up to the garage apartment.

Good, that meant they weren’t staying that long.

While the two lovebirds unpacked, I went to the kitchen. I watched from the doorway, smiling at my seventyish sleuthing crew, Martha, Betty, and Hazel as they set up for dinner. I trusted them implicitly and admired their intuition and how clever yet different they were from each other. I quickly filled them in on our new houseguests.

The thin and fashion-challenged Martha with her spikey white short hair asked, “Why’d Mona show up out of the blue with some hunk, who’s supposedly her fiancé?”

Tall and reedy Betty tucked some loose gray strands back into her bun and asked, “Is this her second or third?”

Shorter, plump Hazel with her curly, gray hair chuckled. “Engaged in Ocean City, an alleged marriage in Boca, now maybe a fiancé? She’s all over the map with relationships.”

“I admit, it’s never dull with her around,” said Martha.

I laughed. “It’s never dull with you three either. Besides, I’m always outnumbered. Mona’s my perfect age-equalizer to my favorite and unpredictable senior crew.”

Martha harrumphed. “We’re your only senior crew.”

Betty and Hazel initially fooled people by their proper, old-fashioned behavior, but were a nice counter-balance to Martha’s in-your-face personality. They were all a constant in my life, challenging me to take mental and physical leaps that I never would have considered before I met them.

Mona, on the other hand, kept popping in and out of our lives both helping and hindering, but in the end, coming through only to disappear to who knew where. We were never inclined to delve too deeply into her legal and illegal connections as long as it didn’t involve jail time for us.

Clay, my very personal undercover, private investigator, used Mona and her networking skills to assist him on some of his investigations whenever they were needed.

I grabbed some tomato/basil wraps, slathered on some Parmesan/ranch dressing, slices of turkey, baby lettuce, diced tomato, cucumber, and shredded mozzarella cheese.

Hazel folded them. “Why would she bring Teddy here?”

“And what do you think is going down?” added Betty.

“We must separate Mona and Teddy from each other,” I said. “I need some answers. Any suggestions on how we’ll accomplish that small miracle?”

There was a moment of silence.

“I’ll do it,” sighed Martha. “The sacrifices I make...”

I nodded, not quite sure how Martha would pull off finding out just why and Mona and Teddy had shown up, but knowing her, she’d get it done, and very creatively too.

Betty just shook her head. “Oh, poor Teddy.”

Hazel never looked up while plating the wraps. “He’ll never know what hit him.”

I stared over at the ever-flamboyant Martha, who was now whistling while she cleaned up the counters. I could also hear those wheels turning. She was plotting already.

“I still have a trick or two up my sleeve,” she chuckled.

Martha, her stilettos, and Teddy all in one room.

Chapter 4

Descriptions & Grammatical Errors

Definition of an anomaly: Something that deviates from what is considered normal or expected, an inconsistency. That pretty much summed up my relationship with Clay, which wasn’t exactly what you’d call normal. We stayed in the same place with irregularity. Our whole relationship was a definite-maybe.

Clay and I go way back to when I was chasing down leads to find out why my husband, Stephen, had died under suspicious circumstances. Little did I know at that time when I first met Clay, he was not only a quaint bookshop owner, but also a very sly PI: a private investigator.

With and without Clay’s help, I solved that mystery. Of course, we both had commitment issues. So we eventually worked through my lack of trust in his slick segues in what was really going on back when we first met by managing some great undercover moments since then.

I’d say my relationships with my crew are ones for the books: my books. Each time we all get together to solve a another mystery, it ends up in my next novel. My agent usually fields my sometimes outrageous stall tactics, while my editor thinks up red side-margin, spot-on comments that are not only helpful, but give me a chuckle or two, while she critiques the believability of my mysteries and sentence structure. I love her to death, but...

Hey, we’re talking fiction, right? I always counter many people and characters speak grammatically incorrect.

* * * * *

Take note of the following:

“This was the most unkindest cut of all.”

(Marc Anthony - Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar: Double superlative)

“To boldly go where no man has gone before.”

(An intro to each episode of Star Trek: split infinitive)

“You ain’t heard nothing yet, folks.”

(Al Jolson – Movie: The Jazz Singer: Double negative.)

P.S. Thank you, James Harbeck for those fine examples.

(I could go on and on.)

Hopefully, you understand the essence of my point.

(Adverbs first, tend to show the speaker’s attitude)

...chuckle

* * * * *

Martha surveyed the Worths’ impressive kitchen. “We sure were lucky to stay another month in these deluxe digs with all this stainless steel, granite, and marble.”

I stared out the floor-to-ceiling whole wall of windows showcasing the back gardens while I sliced some baby Bella mushroom then turned back to the others. “So what do we owe Mona’s visit to other than her potential fiancé?”

Hazel put butter and olive oil into the pan. “I certainly didn’t expect her pending engagement.”

Betty grabbed some Italian balsamic vinegar to drizzle over the just-sliced tomatoes, buffalo mozzarella, and the garden-fresh basil on the platter. “From what you said, it all sounds so cloak and dagger.”

Martha stopped tearing up the Romaine lettuce leaves. “I noticed she wasn’t too excited we’re here. Must have put a crimp in her elaborate plans, whatever they were.”

Hazel turned to Martha. “Why do you say that?”

“Whenever Mona shows up there’s usually trouble.”

“True, but that’s what’s so exciting!” exclaimed Hazel.

I shook my head. “You’ve all read too many mysteries.”

“No,” said Martha. “We’ve been involved in too many.”

I handed over all the newly-sliced mushrooms to Hazel, who then slid them easily into the hot pan. I then sprinkled on some salt and pepper as they began to sizzle.

“I’d like to know what we’re dealing with,” I said.

“Do you think she’ll tell us the truth?” asked Martha.

“I sure hope so,” I replied, then chuckled. “And to think I thought I’d be bored once I finished my last mystery.”

“Bored never seems to come into the equation where we’re concerned, does it?” Martha said.

“Sam, your grin says you love every minute of intrigue that lands in your lap,” laughed Betty.

I tried to suppress another chuckle, but failed.

“And,” added Hazel, “as long as you have us, your top-notch sleuthing team backing you up, you’re golden.”

But as I considered Mona’s unexpected and suspicious arrival, I began to feel itchy. Like people get who ignore all the warnings about its hazards, but still walk right through poison ivy. Why turn back? I was already exposed.

I had stepped into it, but the question was, into what?

Chapter 5

Fact From Fiction

Our eyes traveled back and forth across the beautifully-set, flower-laden, and candlelit table, as Mona glossed over how Teddy and she met: an online dating site. Mona recited in a less-than-wordy explanation how she input her dream-date material. I gave Teddy the once-over. Her description of him had fit perfectly, which I found highly dubious. Mr. too-good-to-be-true Teddy and the ever-shrewd and savvy Mona were an unlikely pair: a beyond-believable match.

“Teddy, what caught your interest in Mona?” I probed.

“I wrote online I was an avid art enthusiast, and to my surprise, Mona replied she was just as passionate about art, and so was her sister, who had an impressive art collection. And here I thought witty Mona was just another pretty face, but after discovering our mutual interest, my world tilted.”

‘My world tilted?’ What idiot’s date guide did he read?

“Aww, Teddy,” said Mona, blushing.

Oh, please...

Martha had to look away for fear of cracking up.

My BS meter was off the scale. He was Mona’s match alright: both experts in the con market. Was that her reason for latching onto him? Okay, I admit his good looks could stop traffic. But other than that, what was this really about?

With Mona, trust me, something was always going on in the background. I was still lost in my musings of the, ‘how-they-got-together angle’ when Teddy turned my way and kept glancing back and forth between Mona and me.

“I’m having a hard time seeing any kind of resemblance between you and your twin sister, Mona.”

“Sam and I are fraternal twins, that’s why,” said Mona.

I swear, I almost spit out my wine. Fraternal...twins?

Mona quickly added, “Hard to believe, huh?”

Martha jerked Mona’s way. “Takes a leap of faith...”

Hazel coughed into her napkin to mask her laugh.

Betty took a gulp of her wine, not daring to speak.

Then I realized I hadn’t let my crew in on the lie Mona had spun about us being related and turned to explain.

“...Uh, you remember me saying how different we were, being sisters and fraternal twins, too, don’t you?” I said, subtly winking, trying not to blow Mona’s mounting lies and still trying to figure out what she had up her sleeve.

Snarky Martha eyed Mona’s full figure. “Must have been a tight fit for your Momma. I feel her pain.”

Mona glared at Martha. “You’re such a jokester.”

“True,” said Martha. “That’s what keeps me going.”

“What? You’re imagination or your sense of humor?”

“Where you’re concerned, both!” she said, grinning.

Teddy checked his image on a silver bowl on the table.

“Overreacting is unhealthy, Mona. It causes wrinkles.”

Martha laughed. “Ah, Teddy offers intriguing advice.”

Smoothing down his hair, he turned back to Martha.

“...Yeah, I’m just full of intrigue.”

Silence. Obviously, his focus was elsewhere: on himself.

“He sure is full of something,” whispered Martha.

“Are you familiar with my mystery series, Teddy?”

“I guess unraveling clues can be interesting.”

“Especially when someone slips up and gets their due.”

Perspiration appeared on Teddy’s upper lip. He broke eye contact and glanced toward Mona then the clock.

Now, Teddy, why so nervous?

Mona and Teddy were two peas in a pod: deceivers. But Mona pretty much fought for the good side. So that left me thinking Teddy was on the opposite side of that spectrum.

What was the big push to stay here?

Then the obvious hit me: the Worths’ vast art collection. They trusted me to protect their property and possessions. Why’d Mona expose it to this con? Had Teddy latched onto Mona because of this art? Were they conning each other?

I’d been watching Teddy’s every move since he came down from their apartment for dinner. He hadn’t glanced at anything else but mirrors and the art. Mona had to notice.

This whole thing felt like a set-up: a bad one.

Martha’s eyes caught mine then caught Teddy’s, asking him, “How about a drink and a game of pool downstairs?”

Teddy jumped at the invitation to leave the table. “Yes!”

He was most likely glad to get away from more scrutiny. Besides, a bunch of women and one man makes men kind of edgy. Just ask Clay. It happened frequently.

Mona jumped up too. “That sounds like a good idea...”

I stopped her, brooking no excuses. “No,” I whispered.

Then I nodded as Martha wearing her stilettos gave me a wink and a thumbs up as she followed Teddy. I turned on some music, hoping it would muffle both upstairs and downstairs.

Martha was taking one for the home team.

Chapter 6

Now What?

After stopping Mona, I murmured, “Not so fast.”

Betty and Hazel discreetly excused themselves, knowing an interrogation was forthcoming and it might get ugly.

I was not about to relive letting Mona off easy this time.

“I demand some answers, right now,” I hissed.

“Would I be here if this wasn’t important? Have I ever left you in a lurch before?”

I stood there staring then broke out laughing.

“Okay, let me restate that somewhat. It always ends up working out in the end, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, I have to admit it does. But this time, I’d rather it be sooner than later before something disastrous happens.”

“Why would you assume that?”

“When you’re involved in something, it’s a guarantee.”

“Okay, so I may have dropped the ball a time or two...”

I kept staring at her, saying nothing.

“...And possibly three or four times.”

“Now we’re progressing. And this time around?”

Mona sighed. “I was sent a detailed email explaining all about your art fraud episode in New Hope.”

“Who sent it?”

“Why, Clay, of course!”

“Good. More progress. So far I’m following. And...?”

“Then I received a follow-up email with instructions to befriend Teddy online, specifics outlined: art interests, etc.”

“Clay said to latch onto him and bring him here?”

Mona frowned. “I thought Clay cleared all this with you ahead of time and assumed it was another investigation you guys needed me in on. After your confusion at greeting me at the front door wondering why I was here, I figured you were just busting my chops. But you weren’t, were you?”

“No!” I sat down at the kitchen table. I had to think. I knew Clay has dropped the ball now and then, but at the risk of his friends’ property? “Are you sure that second email was from Clay?”

Mona sat down too. “Look, I was too busy to verify this job with you personally. Plus, it came shortly after the first email. Clay’s name was at the bottom, so I just assumed... After seeing your reaction, I’m thinking it wasn’t legit.”

“Do you have your laptop for us to recheck that email?”

Mona was back in minutes, booted up her laptop and scrolled to the email in question. We both leaned in to scrutinize the sender. It said Clay, but the return email was slightly different from his by one single letter. Being rushed, I could understand why she overlooked that minor variance. Mona was instructed to romance and set up Teddy to come here for a sting, but it never mentioned what the sting was. She was to get double her usual fee.

“Even I don’t get that. No wonder you jumped.”

Mona’s lips thinned in anger. “Now I feel like an idiot.”

“Too late. The question is, who set us up? And why?”

Chapter 7

Flying Blind

My definition of flying blind: Doing something tricky without the basic faculties for doing it, which could lead to disaster. It was something I never felt comfortable with, hated and should be accustomed to by now, but wasn’t. I didn’t know which way to turn. Here I was sitting on something, waiting for it to happen, but wasn’t privy as to what it was, which, obviously, now included Mona.

Mona was sucked into this and should have known better. She was a professional: previously associated with the FBI and other nefarious (that word alone should speak volumes) organizations, of which she would never reveal to me. I can only imagine who they were. She was tight-lipped to a fault, just like Clay when he was working on the job.

Trust me, both of them are a constant challenge.

I was typing at my laptop while sipping a fresh cup of coffee the next morning, working in Alicia’s posh home office. Since Alicia sold her gallery in New Hope, she had picked up her loft office there and settled it into her own home. Since that space was pretty much the same size, she set it up exactly the same way.

I’d gotten used to working on her antique desk. It was solid cherry and oval shaped all the way around from top to bottom with intricate wood veneers, marble strips, and gold ornamentation. The top of the desk was inlayed with dark green leather, ringed with an edge of gold stenciling.

Her camel-backed striped fabric sofa was a coral and pale green. A black-lacquer painted wooden chair with cane backing and matching seat cushion complimented it. A leather suitcase coffee table tied the grouping together.

Next to the desk was the now familiar deeper green and navy fabric-covered wing chair, the same shade as the leather on the desk. Right behind me she placed her old four-shelf cherry weathered bookcase filled with the same antique books she loved to collect. As I had stated once before while working in her loft at her gallery, if I had a wish-list dream space to work in, this was it.

I emailed Clay earlier, left messages on his cell: nothing, then tried investigating this Teddy of Mona’s. My online search was a no-go: it dead-ended on effort, likely an alias.

I began chuckling, recalling the sight of Teddy walking into the kitchen two hours later after he had left with Martha the previous evening. He was beyond drunk. I knew right then and there, Martha had grabbed liquor from the butler’s pantry on their way down to the poolroom on the lower level. Scotch? Brandy?

All he said was, “Talk about an ace pool player. She’s a real pro, that Martha, and in more ways than one!” Then he fell over like a dead tree onto the stone floor in front of us.

Mona and I just stared at each other then looked down at all that muscle, at least two hundred pound’s worth, which was now heavy, dead weight. Martha was nowhere in sight, probably tucked snugly in her bed and wearing a smile.

“I’ll get a pillow from the couch,” said Mona.

“I’ll get a throw to cover him,” I replied.

We left Teddy there, knowing he’d figure it out when he finally came to. I left a nightlight on and Mona pinned a large note to his shirt to remind him where he was with instructions on how to get back to their apartment. Then we both went up to our own beds to think over what to do next.

Chapter 8

That Other Morning After Pill: Aspirin

I heard music coming from the kitchen at the other end of the house and grabbed the coffee I was drinking to go find who was up and about. I was dying to talk to Martha to see if she had found out anything worthwhile about Teddy.

Because before I entered Alicia’s office that morning, I made a quick detour down to the lower level to check out the poolroom for clues as to what went on the night before.

What I found left me with a wide range of interpretation on Martha’s imagination. I righted one stool, replaced the pillow back on it, then surveyed for more potential damage: not to the poolroom itself, but to what happened to her unsuspecting, prime target, Teddy.

Two empty bottles I had previously mentioned were scattered across the table, pool cues and balls were strewn everywhere, and chalk smudged the pool table’s felt top.

Were they drawing chalk pictures?

Just before leaving, something caught my eye. A stiletto was dangling from the elegant Tiffany light over the pool table. I knew Martha was creative, but I had a feeling she went above and beyond the call of duty on this one. I gave up on any further speculation and left, laughing out loud, heading upstairs to Alicia’s office to try to compose a few possible notes about this. The actual details I’d get later.

Still laughing over the potential symbolism of what I had seen, I entered the kitchen, but then stopped in surprise. Martha was alert, whistling and cooking up an omelet smothered in fresh veggies. My mouth watered not only from the wonderful aroma, but the juicy story that I knew awaited me. I guess her aspirin had already kicked in.

I sidled up close and handed her the salt and pepper.

“Well, am I going to hear what happened or what?”

“Depends,” she said, trying to hide a smirk.

“On what?” I asked innocently then laughed myself.

“Whether you’re prepared to keep an open mind...”

“An open mind, huh? I’m dying here.”

“What I tell you doesn’t go beyond this room,” she said.

“You mean don’t tell the others?”

“Exactly.”

What was up? “Meaning?”

“I have a well-crafted reputation to protect, that’s why.”

“What does this have to do with your reputation?”

Martha stared at me, remaining silent.

I finally nodded in agreement. “Okay, agreed. Spill.”

She lowered the heat on the omelet and turned to me.

I crossed my arms and waited.

“Coffee?” she asked casually.

I knew she was looking for time to gather her thoughts.

“Sure.”

“The usual: light cream and sugar?”

I also knew that after all these years, she knew exactly how I drank my coffee, but I played along anyway. “Sure.”

“As usual, exactly what occurred downstairs and what didn’t occur was intentionally left for pure conjecture,” she said offhandedly, while not exactly meeting my eye.

Chapter 9

Conjecture And More

I stood there for a moment then broke up laughing.

Martha remained deadpan, but then threw up her arms.

“What?” I asked, trying my best to remain open-minded.

“I have a reputation to preserve: a priceless asset.”

“You’re leaving the incident wide open to assumptions.”

Martha finally grinned then nodded. “And that, my dear friend, is what keeps my reputation intact: speculation.”

“So, are you going to tell me what happened or what?”

“I got Teddy more plastered than a drywall professional. Before passing out, he bragged he was an actor/model, hired to pretend he’s an art collector and latch onto Mona.”

“Why her? Why here?”

“After realizing his slip-up, he said it was harmless and he needed money. I’m not sure if you noticed, but some plants downstairs might look slightly wilted this morning.”

“And that’s because...”

“I dumped my drinks in them, while I got Teddy drunk.”

“Just so you know, all those plants are artificial,” I said.

“Good. Then it all worked out in setting that stage.”

“Setting the stage? For what?”

After Teddy passed out, I tossed bottles, smudged the table and hung my stiletto from the light.”

I felt like I should be taking notes. “Then what?”

“When I revived him, he asked how he ended up on the floor, so I showed him compromising iPhone pics I took. I mentioned the Internet and You Tube. We’d both be rich...”

I broke up. “Get anything further on him then?”

“He cried like a baby. If my pics went public, he’d be violating the moral clause of his ad contracts and lose them, plus the bonus he was promised to not screw up this job.”

“So this was just an off-the-record freelance side job?”

“Like you constantly say, it’s always about the money.”

“Anything else? Did he tell you who’s paying him?”

Martha frowned. “No! He suddenly clammed up and staggered upstairs. How did it go with Mona?”

“Mona, instructed via email by Clay to romance Teddy and bring him here, assumed it was an assignment.”

“Clay emailed her to do that?”

“That’s the rub. He didn’t. That email had Clay’s name at the bottom, but the email address was one letter off. She never caught it, just played along as she was told and showed up here, waiting further instructions, thinking I already knew about this. She is just as mystified as I am.”

Martha shook her head. “Someone is setting you up.”

“Normally I’d roll with this, but this isn’t my house.”

“Think it’s about the Worths’ art collection?”

I nodded. “I keep leaning in that direction.”

“But why go to all the trouble of hiring an actor?”

“...Who doesn’t know or care about art or Mona?”

“Feels like Mona and Teddy were set up at both ends.”

This was proving to be a challenge and a real mystery.

Chapter 10

Escalating Cause & Effect

Dictionary definition of escalate: to become or cause to become more intense or serious.

Very apropos.

I gingerly picked up the delivered package to my ear.

“Good! No ticking.”

Then I turned it around to observe and feel the heft of it.

“Doesn’t look like the seal’s been broken.”

I heard an obvious loud sigh and turned to who made it.

“What?” I asked an impatient Martha.

“Okay, it’s passed the bomb squad test and the visual, now just open it!” she said, now bordering on losing it.

“She’s just being prudent,” said Betty, defending me.

“Someone might want to snuff her out,” warned Hazel.

“With a UPS box that’s probably been tossed, shoved and kicked from here to kingdom come? Not to mention all those right turns they make for mileage to save time!”

I stared at the ever-wildly-imaginative, wordy Martha.

“One can’t be too careful. Besides, isn’t it odd someone mailed me an unexpected package at the Worths’ address?”

I looked down at the blank return address label again.

Martha handed me a knife. “I’m aging here. Get to it.”

I took the hint and began slicing the tape, while all eyes remained on the small package in question. I had already ruled out Clay. He wasn’t exactly a package kind-of-guy. Flowers maybe, unexpected arrivals, but not mysterious packages. I was about to open it when...

“I read this one story where a finger was mailed...”

My own stilled at Martha’s words.

“Now, why in the world would someone do that?” asked a horrified Betty.

“It was easier than mailing a nose.”

Hazel paled, protectively clutching hers. “...A nose?”

“This detective kept sticking his nose in where it didn’t belong. They were sending a message.”

The three of us just stared, gaping at Martha.

“You’re joking, right?” Betty finally said.

“Just a little levity while I’m aging and waiting here.”

I shook the box one more time. Whatever it was, it was well-padded. “Here goes,” I said, lifting up the flaps.

Tissue paper, lots of it.

I slowly unraveled it to expose the contents inside.

Ear-piercing shrieks abruptly broke the eerie silence. We were all staring at a finger at the bottom of the box. In seconds, Mona rushed in, Teddy following on her heels.

“What was that all about?” she asked breathlessly.

No one could speak at first, only point down to the box.

Mona leaned in, as did Teddy right behind her. She gasped, “Holy Jesus!” and jerked her head back sharply at the horrible sight at the bottom of the box.

Unfortunately, Teddy was in the direct path of her head. We heard a distinct crunch: his nose. Teddy’s hands flew to cover his face as he yelled, “My noth! My noth!”

The package and its contents momentarily ignored, we all focused on the screaming and now bloody Teddy.

“Oh, dear!” said Betty running for paper towels.

“Keep your head back,” instructed Hazel, as she guided him to the nearest chair to sit down.

“Don’t worry. Maybe they’ll focus on your body instead for your ads. Makeup does wonders too,” advised Martha.

There was a muffled, but distinct, “Bathdarrd!” in there to that one, as Teddy kept rocking and howling in pain.

Hazel tsked. “He was such a good-looking man too.”

“Why so much blood?” I asked alarmed.

Mona leaned down for a better view amongst all those paper towels. “Ah, a bad split lip too.”

With that, there was a renewed wailing from Teddy. I wasn’t positive, but it sounded like he was saying his career was over, all because of us.

We were fyfff nuthh caathess!

Then came more prolific and unintelligible swearing...

Then an emotional sonnn offa bithh!

Though more garbled swearing spewed forth, we pretty much got the essence of what Teddy was conveying: his displeasure at being exposed to a house full of...

Well, you got the idea.

Even if he had read them all...

I doubted there was an idiot’s guide that covered this.

Chapter 11

And So...

Mona and Teddy had gone to the emergency room at Doylestown Hospital. Then Mona texted that, yes, Teddy’s nose was broken and his lower lip required four stitches. His megawatt veneered teeth had sliced right through it. She didn’t dare call us on her cell as he was still ranting. They gave him a shot to calm him so they could stitch his lip because he kept screaming, “No scarths! No scarths!”

Mona assumed he meant no scars as he didn’t appear to be referring to scarves. We concurred.

A few hours later, we were gathered in Alicia’s office, Mona included, while poor Teddy was resting: strung out on pain pills. We were staring down at that box on Alicia’s desk and what it contained, that finger.

A rubber one.

I glared at Martha. “Was this your idea of a sick joke?”

“I swear, I had no hand in this...or finger.”

She actually said that with a straight face.

Hazel cut in. “It’s unnerving how you were telling us...”

An uneasy Betty said, “If it wasn’t Martha, then who?”

No one had any suggestions, just disturbing thoughts as to what this meant. Someone was sending me a message, but no one could figure out why or what that might be.

I was wondering where this was going, but not for long. My email dinged on my laptop. I smiled. It was from Clay. Finally! I clicked on it, but then frowned at the message.

‘I hope you appreciated my little gift.’

That was it. I stared down at the email.

Clay sent that package? No, he would never...

Then I scrutinized the return email: the same one-letter-off email address Mona had received.

Whoever did this had both of our private emails.

I tried to double back on the email like Clay had taught me. Nothing worked. I then asked Martha for her expertise: hacking. She gave it her best shot. Again, nothing.

“Whoever sent those two emails,” Martha said, “first to Mona then you, knows how to electronically disappear.”

Betty glanced around at all the high-end paintings on the walls. “Babysitting this house was one thing, but now...”

“I agree,” added Hazel. “No bonus or caper is worth the possible implications of this message. I don’t like it.”

“Ladies, ladies,” Martha said, sounding like a professor as she paced. We flinched as she picked up that finger. “I think someone is just playing with us. We’ve gained quite a rep for solving a lot of murky mysteries. This one might tax our skills. Maybe there’s something in this house they want and they’re challenging us find out what it is before they...”

“Although I can appreciate your esteemed, but highly obscure take,” I said, interrupting her, “this package has now entered us into the creepy phase of things: Mona’s bogus email, a severed finger, then my email, making us...”

Martha began waving that damn finger, cutting me off.

“...Confused! Don’t you see it? Someone is playing with us. We just haven’t figured out the why of it yet.”

“You believe this is a stupid finger joke?” an annoyed Mona asked Martha. “I’m certain this is more than that.”

“Ha! Words of wisdom from the Internet-duped Mona.”

“It’s also far from someone playing,” Mona retorted.

I reached for the phone. “Definitely borders scary.”

Mona moved to stop me. “You’re not calling the police, are you? Let’s talk this through.”

“No, I’m calling Clay first. I’m concerned about safety.”

“Then Clay would go ballistic worrying,” Martha said.

“Remember, I’m armed,” said Mona pointedly.

I let go of the phone. “You’re right. Maybe we should hold off to see if we could figure this out ourselves.”

“Although a sick message,” said Martha, still waving that finger, “I say we wait and see what happens next.”

Betty and Hazel nodded in agreement.

“I agree with Martha too,” said Mona. “Let’s not panic.”

Just then the doorbell chimed. No one reacted at first.

It chimed once again.

“Who can that be?” I said, getting up to go see.

By the time I reached the front door, the others, now concerned too and not about to let me go answer it myself, followed closely. I slowly opened the front door.

Who’s this? Beyond was a trailer hitched to a pickup.

“I’m the Worths’ groundskeeper and forgot my key.”

I glanced back, arching a brow at everyone behind me.

I then turned back to our visitor. “And you are...?”

He held out his hand. “Sorry. I’m Lucas Conner.”

I wasn’t sure how to handle this as I shook his hand.

“The Worths’ never mentioned any groundskeeper.”

“I’ve been away. I’m back sooner than they expected.”

Trust a stranger who just shows up? I needed proof.

“I’m housesitting. So I should confirm this with the Worths. Plus, I’d like to see some identification too.”

“Will my driver’s license do?” he said, giving it to me.

“Give me a few minutes to check all this out, okay?”

He nodded. I then texted the Worths’ his description and license info to make sure Lucas was legit. The others kept a close eye on him while I waited.

Considering his age, right around the senior ladies’ age, he quickly became the target of their...hormones? Almost bald, he wore wire-rimmed glasses, was medium built with a disarming smile that captivated them. Drooling over him was overshooting it. Fascinated was a better word for their main interest: Lucas was a male.

Any male walking, talking, and breathing in their age bracket set the tone for a spontaneous interaction (rivalry) amongst themselves. It never failed. I sighed at the thought.

Was this my future? Should I be taking more notes here?

Even though Mona targeted anyone regardless of age, they had to keep up with her version of who held the most power and the money. Lucas evidently didn’t cut it. She frowned, obviously still bothered by that finger episode.

“Later,” she said. “Time is money. I’ve got work to do.”

Like Martha quoted me, ‘It’s always about the money.’

After texting the Worths’ then Clay, I stared at Lucas.

Was he now a part of these unexpected, bizarre events?

Chapter 12

The Money & Maybe More

The Worths confirmed Lucas’s return via text message. Apparently, they had an on-and-off relationship with him. They didn’t want to get into it, but assured me despite his quirks and strange habits, they really needed Lucas for their property’s day-to-day maintenance. They were desperate.

Quirks and strange habits? Desperate?

But that presented a problem: what to do with Mona and Teddy, who were using the groundkeeper’s apartment.

“I’m not into this switcheroo business,” griped Martha.

I tried to reason with her. “No worries. I’ve asked Betty and Hazel to room together. This doesn’t involve you.”

“And for that I’m grateful, but you bunked Mona and Teddy right next to my room. I don’t need to hear all the moaning and groaning about his lip, nose, and good looks.”

“Use earplugs.”

“I do now. Teddy needs to man up big time. He’s worse than Mona, and that’s saying plenty. Makes her look good.”

“You’re slipping. You just gave her a compliment.”

“After finding out he’s an actor and being paid to be with her, I can’t believe she’s still rooming with him.”

“She’s trying to weasel out of Teddy who hired him.”

Martha grinned. “Even with a broken nose and split lip, I guess he’s worth it. Talk about taking one for the team...”

I chuckled. “Hey, maybe she should use earplugs too.”

“I’ve never seen a man so obsessed with mirrors.”

“Teddy’s trying to protect his rep just like you, Martha.”

“I can’t fault him there. Reps are important, but there’s more to this than meets the eye. Are we being played, mere pawns in what is about to go down here?”

“I agree. It’s like we’re in a manipulated chess game.”

“If so, it’s been well-played, even for pros like Mona.”

“So, the big question is, what will be their next move?”

Really, I should know by now not to ask that one.

Everyone was settling in their new rooms. The house was pretty quiet for a while, which was a nice change-up from the turmoil of the last two days. I’d decided to go for a walk outside, but then the driveway enunciator buzzed.

Again?

I went to the foyer door, opened it and stared out at another stranger. Her flaming red hair definitely came from a bottle. I doubted nature came up with that brassy shade, but somehow it complimented her green dress that hugged her weighty, voluptuous figure. Her pale skin was covered in freckles. Her stance felt confrontational though.

I forced a smile. “Hi, can I help you?”

“Clay Masters, please,” she said firmly.

Was that a southern accent I detected?

I gripped the door handle tighter. “...Clay?”

“I do believe that’s what I said, Miss...?”

Where did this aggressive belle come from?

Chapter 13

Miss Construed?

Okay, I admit I have a very low tolerance in the lack of info department where Clay is concerned, but what was this all about? Her arrival was unexpected. And lately, that’s all who was showing up here: the unexpected.

I had no clue why these people were materializing while I was housesitting. A coincidence? My rational side kept saying there was a logical reason why this was happening. My paranoid side tended to favor Martha’s take: someone arranged this and was waiting until everyone was in place.

But for what? That theory didn’t make any sense.

I gave myself a mental writer’s slap. There was no way this was prearranged. I was stressed out. I had been knee-deep in so many mysteries lately, I wasn’t keeping this in perspective and had to step back to figure out whether any of this was related to me or just a mere coincidence of fate.

What did she want with Clay? I hated being abandoned in these information-less voids by Clay to fend for myself.

Miss Arrogant was still standing there, waiting.

“I’m Samantha Jamison,” I finally replied to her.

She threw her hand to her ample chest in shock.

“...You mean, the Samantha Jamison?” she drawled.

“I believe that’s what I said.”

She grabbed me in a bear hug. “I can’t believe it!”

I was barely holding my own, trying to ease off from her stranglehold when she finally let me go so I could breathe.

“Can’t believe what?” I asked, sucking in air.

“I didn’t recognize...that baseball hat you’re wearing...”

I took it off. “Well, as you can now see, it’s really me.”

She was still gushing over what an honor it was to meet me that I began to warm up to her. Maybe she wasn’t so obnoxious as I’d initially thought. She acted like a fan.

Should I give her an autographed copy of my last book?

While she babbled, my eyes caught sight of some luggage. Uh-oh. Okay, apparently she was expecting to stay with us. My goodwill abruptly took a nosedive.

Fan or no fan, why was she here at my doorstep?

“I see you’ve got luggage.”

She looked back to it. “Why, of course!”

Back in my court.

“...It’s that I wasn’t expecting anyone.”

She drew in a breath, surprised. “Clay didn’t tell you? He invited me by email. Here, take a look for yourself.”

I read it. The sender’s email was partially torn off.

Could it be the same bogus sender as our other two!

Now intrigued, I said, “Please come in, Miss...?”

“Oh, I am soooo sorry. It’s Scarlett O’Hara.”

She gave me a card. President of one of my fan clubs?

“Your name is Scarlett O’Hara?” I asked, stunned.

“My mother just loved the book, Gone With The Wind.”

Great! Now I was dealing with real live fictional people.

Chapter 14

Southern Comfort

“Scarlett?” Martha asked, trying to grasp what I’d said.

“You heard me. What am I to do with her? She’s down in the great room, gulping Southern Comfort of all things.”

Martha sniffed. “Were you hitting the stuff too?”

“I was tempted. It was twenty minutes of her talking nonstop about all my books and how this was going to be a great interview for me. She couldn’t wait for the fans to hear all about me. But then she weirdly segued into ranting about how great the South was and Gone With The Wind.”

“Nerves. Could’ve been the Southern Comfort talking.”

“She took it straight up. I couldn’t wait to run this by you. We need to find out who is sending bogus emails and how Scarlett figures into what is going on here.”

“But what if Clay really did send that torn email to her?”

“It’s possible. He pulled some crazy stunts when I first met him, remember? If Clay did this for my benefit, he could’ve at least warned me beforehand,” I said angrily.

“Don’t be so hard on him. I’m sure he had your best interests in mind, thinking of all the free publicity for you.”

“It would be just like him pull this, wouldn’t it?”

Martha laughed. “You know he loves to surprise you.”

“Well, he’s killing me with this one if he’s responsible.”

“First things first,” said Martha. “Have you emailed Clay about this and given any thought as to where you’re going to put her up?”

I turned away from her briefly. “Yes and yes.”

“And?

I turned back. “Don’t tempt me to answer truthfully.”

“No, I’m serious.”

I threw myself into the nearest chair. “...With you?”

“...Say what?”

“Martha, I have no other choice.”

“Oh, yes you do! I could bunk with you instead.”

“And what if Clay returns?”

“I wouldn’t mind a toss in the hay with that hunk.”

After seeing my reaction, Martha broke up laughing.

“Honest, Martha. If I had an alternative, I’d take it.”

“What is she doing here in the first place?”

“She was invited here for a week.”

“Whatever for?”

“Apparently, Scarlett is the president of a nationwide fan club of mine and won.”

“Won what?”

“A whole week to observe me then interview me.”

Martha sat down. “How can you turn down the chance for more book sales? Either way you’re screwed.”

“No, you are,” I retorted. “You get to bunk with her. I just have to last through one interview with her.”

We both sat their thinking over these turn of events.

Martha grinned. “Well, I guess it won’t kill me. I could use earplugs at night and claim I’m deaf during the day.”

“I don’t know whether to kiss Clay for the free publicity stunt or strangle our bogus sender for evil intentions.”

“Some plan is in place if our bogus sender is involved.”

“If so, that’s a problem. What should we expect next?”

“Don’t you always preach, expect the unexpected?”

“I know, but still...”

“Since when is one of your mysteries easy to solve?”

She had me there.

“We should be patient and let this game play out then.”

“And not get outmaneuvered,” Martha added.

“And hope we can checkmate first before it’s too late.”

“With Scarlett thrown into what’s already in place.”

“Every move we take from now on must be deliberate.”

“You’ve had some bizarre gifts mailed to you by fans over the years, but this finger takes the cake,” said Martha.

“Doesn’t look like this one’s a fan, does it?”

Chapter 15

Loquacious Lucas To A Point

Okay, I admit I was trying to avoid talking to Lucas and Scarlet until I heard from Clay, but time was passing. I left Clay voicemails and text messages, but heard nothing in return. He had some explaining to do when he got back.

I have to admit I’ve gone through this old exercise many times before. When Clay worked undercover, it was like he dropped off the face of the earth. I could go multiple days and not hear a word. Then out of nowhere, he’d call or text or just show up unannounced. I learned that going into this relationship and had semi-adjusted since then.

I use that term semi-adjusted lightly.

He adjusted just fine. I had adjusted up to a point. I was either consumed with angst about his safety or worried he’d found someone new. Maybe there were a few times when our roles reversed and he felt unsure. I guess that’s what made our relationship work: keeping each other guessing.

With that in mind, I decided to push my Clay concerns to the side by focusing on our third addition: Lucas.

I caught him working in the gardens. I didn’t want distractions so it was perfect timing. He glanced up at my approach, giving me a warm smile. From what little contact everyone had with him so far, it was hard not to be affected by his easy-going, friendly manner. We liked him.

Forgive this pun. I was about to dig deeper and hoped he’d be just as easygoing during our little chit-chat.

I was curious about why he wasn’t around until now.

I sat on a nearby bench, deciding to take my time in mentioning anything specific. I figured I’d take the lead on our conversation, but Lucas beat me to it.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” he asked, glancing up at the sky.

“As are the gardens too,” I said, admiring them.

“Thanks. I have a lot of catching up to do around here.”

Odd the Worths’ never mentioned him before.

“You caught me off-guard when you showed up,” I said.

“Alicia outsourced my job because I had to leave.”

Interesting.

“Everything must have worked out for you because now you’re back.”

“I heard my replacements weren’t any good.”

“I guess Alicia asked you to come back then?”

Lucas hesitated, his features pinched. “...Not exactly.”

He stared up again, most likely gathering his thoughts on phrasing his next words. “The truth is I called Alicia.”

“You called her?” I repeated, hoping he’d continue.

“We had a falling out before and I left.”

“Oh?” I was dying to know the details, but waited.

“She had misread things and I threatened to leave.”

I guessed. “Did she surprise you by letting you go?”

He nodded. “After being with them ten long years, I was shocked. Alicia and Chris felt like family to me.”

Why had they let him go? What really happened?

Lucas suddenly grinned and stared off again.

What was he thinking?

I gently probed. “And no hard feelings on either side?”

“That’s now a dead issue.”

“...Oh.”

“All that matters is that I’m back and that’s history.”

I was about to speak, but then he unexpectedly reached behind a shrub and whipped out a fresh bouquet of flowers, smiled self-consciously and handed it to me.

“Here, I picked this for you earlier, Samantha.”

I was touched, but at the same time edgy. I hardly knew him and already he was giving me a bouquet.

“...Well, uh, that’s so sweet and thoughtful.”

“I figured we had something in common.”

Still slightly uneasy, but confused, I asked, “How so?”

“I dig up the gardens and you dig up the truth.”

I relaxed somewhat and laughed. “I guess you’re right.”

“Let’s hope you are just as sharp for this one.”

...This one?

I didn’t get it. “Excuse me?”

He laughed. “I meant your next one.”

I sat there staring at him. Then... “Oh, you mean my next mystery.”

“Well, I have a lot of gardening to catch up on. Maybe we can talk again another time, okay?”

I was thus dismissed from asking further questions.

“...Sure. Another time,” I said, getting up and walking away. Something made me turn back. Lucas was frowning, looking off again. That familiar smile long gone.

Like the old cliché:

There was more here than met the eye...

Chapter 16

Cutting To The Chase

I figured I’d prepare a chunky vegetable soup while I gave Lucas’s conversation some thought. I loved going over the facts on a mystery while cooking. And this sure was a inexplicable one. Earlier, too fidgety to sit around, Martha, Hazel, and Betty left for the grocery store to pick up some food supplies we needed for all these people.

I set out the cutting board in the kitchen and was about to begin slicing when I felt someone’s presence. I turned to see who it was. Scarlett was staring at me blankly.

She came out of her trance-like state when I said, “Hi.”

What was that all about?

“Could I help you in some way?” she volunteered.

I recalled how excited Scarlett was earlier and relented. I had to make the best of her being around. Being in a more relaxed setting might ease some trepidation about the interview. Most authors loved them, but I was concerned my words might be misinterpreted to my disadvantage.

Trust me, I tend toward paranoia.

I grabbed another board and handed her a chef’s knife.

“Make yourself useful. Aprons, there,” I said, pointing.

She grabbed one, put it on, and picked up the knife.

I turned back to the carrots I was skinning and slicing.

“Is this your first interview?” I asked, prodding her on.

“Yes. I mean no, but with you, yes, obviously.”

Where had Miss Chatterbox gone?

I heard her knife being placed down on the board.

Was I about to hear a confession about something?

I turned back to her. She glanced from her board to me.

“Oh! I forgot to give you the celery and onions to chop.”

She gave me a nervous smile. “I can’t believe I’m here.”

I smiled, handing them over. “Believe it. Get to work.”

She laughed and began to slice. “This reminds me of back home when I’d get together with my momma and brother, Rhett, in the kitchen.”

I stopped cutting, turned and stared at her for a sec.

“...Rhett? ...Oh, of course! That book.”

A door slammed and my senior trio carried in three bags of groceries along with some bad vibes.

Something was off with them.

“What?” I asked, casting them a worried glance.

“Guess who Hazel saw in the organic aisle?” said Betty.

“I have no idea,” I said, my eyes darting to Hazel.

“Someone who shouldn’t be there, but was,” she said.

They all loved drama.

“Get to the point,” I insisted.

Eyeing Scarlett, Martha hesitated. “Well, we...”

How bad could it be? They were at the grocery store!

Besides, I knew I could always excuse us at any point so we could speak privately. “Go ahead. Spill.”

Martha’s eyes swung back to me. “Your friend, Tony.”

Damn...

Chapter 17

Defining Tony G

To define Tony G. was a tough one. I doubted my off or online dictionary could translate or explain that guy. Let’s just say he played a major negative role in my last mystery, No Hope In New Hope, regarding the deadly consequences of art forgery. Deadly should tell you something right there.

Tony was a connected kind of guy, sort of like Clay and Mona, but in a bad kind of way. He took a hit in the art market and didn’t take too kindly to it and neither did his mother, who hovered on the periphery.

Since neither one of them were seen around recently, we figured they had moved on to greener pastures so to speak. I guess we were mistaken. Now I had a problem with that. Although good looking, Tony was one scary, dangerous guy. He had an infinity for waving his gun around. So you can grasp my apprehension on hearing of his whereabouts: right here in town.

Now what would Mr. Connected be doing back in town?

I pinched my nose with closed eyes. “...Not now.”

“...Yes, now,” Martha replied sharply.

Scarlett was leaning in excitedly. “Who’s Tony?”

I thought about our situation. Scarlett didn’t appear to be going anywhere. So we were stuck with her for the time being. There would be hell to pay with Clay, but that was neither hear nor there at the moment. Scarlett was going to be exposed to how we dealt with stress and the unexpected, which was badly. Sooner or later she’d hear about why we were upset at seeing Tony in town. We couldn’t hide it. She might end up being inadvertently dragged into it and had to be warned about him and his so-called connections.

I sometimes think I rationalize too much...

“You might as well fill her in,” I said to my crew.

And so they did, letting her know Tony was not to be trusted under any circumstances, and he had very unsavory connections, ones Scarlett had probably read about, but not dealt with before. They explained that although he couldn’t be trusted, he had never laid a hand on any of us, just waved his gun around and shot some holes in an art gallery. In other words, she should keep her distance from him.

“Well! I have dealt with some rough gentleman of my own. I know exactly what you mean about uncontrollable and volatile. Besides, I have a black belt in Taekwondo.”

We all stared at Scarlett. Taekwondo?

“Really?” I said, impressed by Miss Southern Belle.

“Although somewhat sheltered growing up, my momma made sure I wouldn’t be taken advantage of,” she drawled.

Was she for real?

Martha gave me the eye, asking the same thing.

Could we trust her?

I gave a slight shrug.

I don’t know.

“Time will tell,” mumbled Martha. “Time will tell.”

Chapter 18

Time Will Tell...

“Are you sure it was Tony at the supermarket?” I asked.

“I spotted him by the organic half-n-half,” Hazel said.

“What exactly was he doing there? Think back,” I said.

Hazel closed her eyes. “He was checking his watch.”

“Anything else? Anything unusual?”

“Well, he was talking at the same time.”

“Who was he talking to? Did you recognize them?”

“I know it sounds crazy, but he was talking to himself.”

“What do you mean himself?” I asked.

“No one else was standing there, but him.”

“He was probably talking on an earphone,” said Betty.

Martha grabbed Hazel. “Did you catch what he said?”

Hazel shut her eyes again, remembering. “‘That it was worth the price.’ I figured he was talking about the half-n-half until he turned and I saw that it was Tony! I almost knocked down a display of cans hightailing it out of there to hide behind some plants in the flower section.”

“Did he see you?”

“I don’t think so.”

Martha eyed Hazel. “Are you positive it was him?”

Hazel stiffened. “Are you questioning my integrity?”

“No, just your eyesight.”

I looked at Martha and Betty. “Did you two see him?”

They shook their heads no.

“What do you think he was talking about?” asked Hazel.

“It wasn’t about the price of half-n-half,” said Martha.

Betty caught my eye. “Maybe about another painting?”

We had all but forgotten about Scarlett standing there until she said, “Does he know all of you are still in town?”

“Do you think that’s possible, Sam?” asked Betty.

“More than likely. That guy has eyes in the back of his head, plus he’s connected, remember?”

“Isn’t he taking a chance showing up here? Don’t the authorities already have him in their crosshairs? Why risk jail time causing more trouble?” Scarlett asked.

No one said anything at first. They were valid points.

“That, Scarlett, is for us to figure out first,” I said.

She grinned. “This sounds like one of your mysteries.”

I thought of our interview and her possible questions.

“Some mysteries are multilayered and not so simple.”

I heard a rustle coming from the open window. I sidled up to the curtain and drew it back to see who was there.

No one. My skin prickled.

Was someone listening?

Chapter 19

Convincing, Cajoling & Cagey

“This one is unusual,” I said, using my standby mantra.

“Ha! They all are,” said Sandra somewhat amused.

My publisher was curious about my next mystery, so I was filling in my agent, Sandra, about it over the phone.

“Knowing you, I’m afraid to ask why it is,” she said.

“A diverse bunch of people keep mysteriously showing up.” I described Mona’s fiancé, Teddy, Scarlett, and Lucas.

I briefly skimmed over the mailed finger package.

I intentionally left out Tony’s sighting in the market.

Sandra knew about the risk he posed once before and would really carry on some more so I let that nugget ride.

She supported Scarlett’s surprise arrival wholeheartedly, advising me to ignore my nervousness about the interview. And as usual, she offered advice and warnings about what I should or should not say, as always protecting my interests.

“Sam, enjoy it for it’s worth: book sales, publicity...”

As far as the phony finger episode, she wasn’t thrilled.

“A finger?” she shrieked. “You should call the police.”

“It was a probably a prank, just a joke from a fan trying to get my attention because of my mysteries. If anything more happens I will notify them though. I promise.”

“The implications of that warning sign should be more than enough to make you rethink staying there,” she said.

I tried to sound unconcerned, but Sandra wasn’t buying into it. She was a dear friend and worried about me.

“Is Clay concerned? What does he think?” she asked.

I still hadn’t heard or gotten a text from him.

With Clay always disappearing I didn’t like it, but understood it. Sandra never did. She knew if Clay was around she wouldn’t have to fear for my safety so much.

I may have neglected to mention to her he wasn’t there.

I nuanced, without really lying. “He trusts my instincts.”

“Clay usually counterpoints you on taking risks. I can’t believe he’d ride easy after that finger was delivered.”

“You’re over-worrying. Besides, Mona’s good backup.”

“How about more details on why Mona’s there?”

“You’ll love this. A bogus email was allegedly sent by Clay to Mona to romance this guy, Teddy and...”

We were still laughing at Martha’s stiletto and Teddy’s nose episode when my brain lapsed and I blew it big time.

“...And when Clay finds out what he’s missed here...”

This is where lying crib notes would’ve come in handy.

There was dead silence at the other end of the line.

...Damn.

“Now, why do I feel I was just lied to?” accused Sandra.

“I didn’t want you to worry.”

I heard her usual sigh of resignation. “Just stay safe, will you?” she warned. “I swear, being your friend stretches my patience to the limit. I don’t know why I put up with...”

Click...

A dead line.

She’d run out of steam and hung up. I grinned.

You know, I think she likes this one!

Chapter 20

Without Any Warning

Mona convinced Teddy to eat lunch out, down in New Hope, saying he didn’t look that bad. Who’d recognize him from his modeling ads if he wore some sunglasses?

Martha said, “If you didn’t wear them, who’d recognize you anyway with your bruised, swollen eyes, nose, and stitched lip.”

Trust me, undoing that crack took some smooth-talking.

My senior trio took off to check out both New Hope and Lambertville to see if they could spot Tony. When he disappeared previously, he had vanished without a trace. They promised if they spotted him they’d text Mona.

Scarlett had gone to her room to compose a list of noteworthy questions to ask me. She said she didn’t want to mess up her interview.

If she only knew that was exactly how I felt.

I also felt like a trapped animal and decided to get some fresh air to think. Once outside I began walking the length of the driveway down to the road, about a half a mile, then would backtrack a little to the edge of the woods and front field to hike the perimeter of the whole property.

On the way down the driveway several deer loped off through the trees edging the front fields. A gopher popped up and, noticing me, disappeared from view underground. Off in the distance a fox took off for the woods. I could hear a few wild turkeys calling out a warning to each other.

By the time I backtracked and reached the edge of the front field, I was relaxed enough to enjoy the solitude and began to mull over this mystery. At least it felt like one to me. Was I making something out of nothing over this odd bunch showing up? Then I recalled that package and knew, or I should say, felt that everything was interrelated for a specific purpose. Now I needed to find out what it was.

Watching out for gopher holes so I wouldn’t step in one accidentally, I was surprised to find myself in the back of the property when I glanced up several minutes later. I had to pass through Blue Spruce and Norway pines to continue walking along the perimeter. I glanced at a hawk overhead.

I heard a ding and smiled. Was Clay texting to apologize for not keeping in touch? I bent, cutting the glare with my hand. But before I could read it, something whizzed by and struck a branch right by my head. Instinctively, I dropped like a dead weight to the ground.

That familiar sound was from a gun with a silencer.

I rolled smoothly under dense branches, grateful I had reached a grove of trees and was now flat on the ground, well-hidden from whoever took that shot. I must have ruined their hit by choosing that precise moment to look down at my cell phone. Who would try and pull this off?

...Tony? I racked my brain for reasons to support his involvement. What possible motive would he have for shooting at me? I hadn’t done anything that I could recall, so I nixed his involvement. Back to square one. So who took that shot? I grabbed my cell to speed dial a text to Mona and the others for backup, but then thought I should read the text that most likely saved my life before I did that. If it was from Clay, he’d want to know immediately too.

‘Will you find that coveted & valuable tome first?

Warning: I’m watching & listening.’

Still flush to the ground, I reread the text.

Coveted and valuable tome?

After several minutes, I figured they—whoever ‘they’ were—must be long gone. They’d gotten my attention. I stood, took a fast 360° pivot. Nothing but wildlife stared back. That bullet flying passed my head had gone way beyond a delivered-finger warning. I had lingered long enough and had to get back to the safety of the house.

I hustled inside into the kitchen and stared through its expansive bank of tall windows to survey the back area. Still rattled, I couldn’t recall where that shot came from or which way I was facing at that precise moment.

I knew I had checked the time, but then may have turned when I glanced up at that low-flying hawk, then heard that ding from that incoming text and looked downward, reaching into my pocket for my phone. That single move at that exact moment had saved me.

Now, think logically, Sam. Think this through.

I was out front, a wide open target. So, why did they wait until I was out back? Okay, then it was probably a warning shot to get my attention. A tome was a book and in this case apparently valuable. If it was coveted then it was most likely an old one too. But why did they warn me of its intended theft? And why challenge me to find it first? Was someone playing a sick game with me? This was crazy.

...Couldn’t be. No way. Was that why Tony was in town?

I texted Clay and my crew for backup then forwarded that two line strange text I received to Alicia Worth. Maybe she could make some sense of it. Within minutes I received a return call on the house phone from her, a very interesting one...

Chapter 21

One For The Books

When Martha, Hazel, and Betty arrived, I was already methodically searching the cabinets in the family room.

Martha looked all around. “What is going on here?”

“Why did you take all those books out?” Betty asked.

Hazel glanced at the open cabinets. “What happened?”

I explained what occurred outside, my near miss with that bullet, barely controlling my anger and frustration at what some nut was now putting me through.

“Oh, my!” Hazel exclaimed, clutching her chest.

“You could have been killed!” said Betty, clearly upset.

“Let’s not fall apart here, you two,” said Martha. “We have to remain calm in a time of crisis. Sam is alive and well, and slightly peeved as you can plainly see.”

Martha then turned to me, worry etching her eyes that I’d catch, not about to show it in front of Hazel and Betty. “You’re pushing your luck, young lady. We’ll talk about calling in the cops, but first let me read that text you got.”

I’d give them my take on this then Alicia’s odd reaction.

I gently tossed over my phone to her.

“What’s this all supposed to mean?” Martha asked after reading it with Betty and Hazel leaning over her shoulder.

“Apparently, they are looking for a very valuable book that’s located somewhere in this house.”

“Why divulge what they’re looking for?” asked Hazel.

“I know, that’s exactly what I asked at first,” I said.

“What do you mean, at first?” Betty asked.

“They know it’s here, but not exactly where,” I responded.

Martha got it. “And hope you’ll find it first, saving them the risk of being exposed to the alarms and cameras located in this house that would alert us and the police.”

I nodded. “Then try to steal it from us once we find it. I know this sounds strange, but I don’t think they know the title either, just that it’s a very valuable one.”

They stood there silently digesting my last comment.

“Sounds farfetched, doesn’t it?” I asked.

“I recall,” said Martha, “someone saying something very similar to me the other day regarding my take on this.”

I rested my hand lightly on her arm. “My apologies.”

“I don’t know...” said a doubtful Betty.

“What?” I asked her.

“Look for a valuable book in this big house?”

Martha grabbed her cell and began typing.

Hazel glanced at the cabinets then me. “Find anything?”

“More old books in boxes, but I’m not sure how rare.”

Martha read aloud from her phone. “‘A tome: A book, volume, digest, manuscript.’ No doubt of their intentions.”

I glanced at the multitude of books staring back at us from all the bookcases in the family room then remembered the large great room, the living room... I never really paid much attention to how many books the Worths’ had. I was more focused on all their valuable paintings.

Then I smiled confidently. “It’ll be a daunting task, but not one we can’t handle, right? I know we can do this,” I said firmly.

“It’s like looking for a needle in a haystack,” said Betty.

“Sure is one for the books,” quipped Martha, frowning.

For once their usual clichés were very apropos.

Chapter 22

Librarian & Libation

I took a break from playing librarian and uncorked some wine, inviting the others to join me. We kicked up our feet to discuss the case and hash out how to handle this. I kept my voice low. Scarlett was just a door and stairwell away. This was serious business.

“Still no word from Clay,” I said, “but I received a call earlier from Alicia. She stated, although many of her books were collectible, she couldn’t think of one in particular that might be worth taking a shot over. She asked that we keep this quiet and don’t call in the police yet unless something worse happens. It could have been just a hunter’s wild shot gone astray out in the woods and nothing more. After all, it’s fall and this is a rural area. She said it does happen.”

Betty set down her wineglass. “Like we’d believe that.”

“She claimed there was nothing unusual about her book collection and maybe I was over-reading this whole thing. Maybe it was a misdirected text and stray bullet. She also mentioned that one of her neighbors in the woods at the back of her property is a retired sharpshooter for the secret service and each hunting season thins out the deer herd on all the area properties and then donates all the deer meat to a food bank kitchen. But he uses a bow, not a gun.”

“Maybe he ran out of arrows,” cracked Martha.

“So, Alicia claims it was some overenthusiastic nut, hunting deer and that was a stray bullet whizzing by you,” said Betty, raising a disbelieving eyebrow.

“You don’t sound convinced that it might have been an accident either,” said Hazel.

“Since when do hunters use silencers?” I countered sarcastically.

“Point well-taken,” said Martha.

“Then Alicia sent me this text after we hung up. Look.”

When you reed the manuscript,

Make sure you have the right one, the other is lethal.

I trust you’ll get it write and no the difference in thyme.

“I wasn’t sure why she misspelled it until I reassessed our conversation. Alicia’s voice had an edge, a forced calm, dismissing my concerns, even after I brought up those two bogus emails. She spoke cryptically. I’m now convinced she purposely misspelled it, sensing the phones might be compromised and our computers, but in due time I’d figure her text out. Trouble is, I can’t decipher it.”

“Do you think you can find this book?” Hazel asked.

“What about getting the police involved?” Betty added.

“It had to be a warning shot. If they wanted to shoot me they could’ve accomplished that easily out front when I was walking in the wide-open field. After giving it some thought, I think this was to get my attention. Trust me, they did. Plus for some reason Alicia kept stressing not to call the police, but if it goes further than that warning shot, I...”

Just then, Mona and Teddy barged in.

“What’s so important?” she asked breathlessly. She saw open cabinets, several books scattered about. “Tell me...”

I gave her a warning look and a slight shake of the head.

The ever-astute Mona quickly turned to Teddy.

“Lunch was a total disaster. I’ve heard enough moaning! Go up and take your pain pills before looking in any more mirrors, and then lie down for an hour,” she instructed.

Because of all the bruising and swelling on Teddy face, I think it was too much effort to argue, so he nodded and made his exit, but not before we heard a muffled, “Bithhh!”

“Well,” said Betty, smoothing her skirt. Such manners!”

“A true gentleman,” scoffed Hazel, “wouldn’t speak that way to a room full of ladies.”

“Who said we were all ladies,” said Martha chuckling.

Offering a glass of wine to Mona, I invited her to sit down. Then I painstakingly recapped what had transpired, including the texts I’d received while she was babysitting Teddy in New Hope.

When I finished, she frowned. “I should’ve been here.”

“Don’t feel guilty. You couldn’t have done much. They were probably long gone by the time I got up and ran in.”

“We’re not informing Miss Scarlett either,” Hazel said.

I just checked on her,” Martha said, rejoining us. “She’s out cold for now. We can speak freely.”

“Must have hit the Southern Comfort again,” Betty said.

“We don’t want Teddy, Scarlett or Lucas to find out about this,” I said. “For the moment they’re all suspect.”

Hazel chuckled. “All we need is for Rhett to show up.”

Just then the doorbell buzzed. Tension traveled the room as each of us imagined who it could possibly be.

No one said zip.

There was no way.

I mean, what were the odds, right?

Chapter 23

And Then There Was...

I think the thought of spending backbreaking time going through more of those books and the intrigue of just who might be at the door swept all of us as one to walk into the foyer to find out who was now buzzing insistently.

“What’s so important? Are they nuts?” said Martha.

I glanced at the ladies before opening the door. They were all still holding their wineglasses, ready and waiting.

I unlocked the door, swung it open, and gaped.

“...Tony?

He winked and said, “Miss me?”

I didn’t have to glance backward when I heard intakes of breath behind me. They were just as shocked as I was.

“What the...”

I stood there staring at tall, dark, and handsome Tony, who had crossed my path before on my last mystery. As usual, he was dressed ‘to the nines,’ as Martha would say: flashy designer suit, polished shoes, and Louis Vuitton tie, minus any ominous red stains.

If I wasn’t stuck on Clay, I’d consider this bad boy.

“Aren’t you going to at least invite me in?” he asked, interrupting my quickly-suppressed thoughts as I flushed.

My eyes hastily searched for bulges under his jacket. “Well...” I said, hesitating.

“I’m not carrying.” He unbuttoned and opened his jacket to prove it. Nothing but muscled male under a tailored shirt.

At the end of our last case, Tony had been found innocent and was released on a technicality, and vanished after our final encounter. So, why this public visit all of a sudden? I back-stepped even though I had reinforcements: witnesses standing right behind me.

“...I guess,” I said, letting him enter.

Although I initially misjudged Tony to be slow on the uptake, I revised my opinion once he demonstrated he was savvier than I expected. So, why show up, announcing his presence, if he was involved in stealing a rare book? Could it be Tony knew nothing about the book in question? I tried not to laugh at that impossibility. He smelled money.

Tony not be on the hunt? This tom-cat always strayed.

He shut the door and checked me out from head to toe. His x-ray eyes were making me uneasy. Tony had a way of staring at you, like he was trying to read your thoughts. I hoped he couldn’t read mine.

They were not PG rated. He caused me a lot of stress last time he confronted me. Granted, he had valid reasons, but I just didn’t trust the guy. Forget his mother. She was just as unpredictable and treacherous as he was.

My definition of treacherous: double-dealing and highly dangerous. Yup, they both qualified.

But you know, I considered him a challenge, bearing in mind Tony was so good looking. Besides, where was Clay in all this? I had called, texted and emailed until my fingers felt raw. If Clay chose to miss out on this caper, I guess I would have to handle Tony all by myself. I could do that...

After all, any crime spillover should go to me, right?

Chapter 24

The Whatever & More

Tony’s lean, over six-foot frame loomed closer and I inched away. I had passed the substantial glass armoire containing vases and statues. My back hit the bottom of the curved railing of the main staircase. “Huh...?”

I should have bumped into the ladies by now.

I glanced around. Not a soul. How could they abandon me? It was just us two until I thought I heard a giggle from up above. Tony’s hands gripped the rail on each side of me. I was trapped. But my crew was above us enjoying all this.

Leaning in real close, his lips now hovering dangerously close to mine, he whispered. “I hope I’m not intruding.”

He was within a hair’s breath of me. If I answered, we’d be kissing. That was the furthest thing from my mind.

Really.

So I did the alternative and mumbled. “Umm, mmm.”

Then the front door burst wide open.

“Whose SUV is out.... What the hell?”

Damn.

Tony turned. “Now, Clay, I didn’t touch one hair.”

Clay’s hands balled into fists. “Lucky for you...”

Tony straightened his tie. “Perfect. You’re both here.”

Clay didn’t expect that greeting. “What do you mean?”

Now I was confused too. “And how is this perfect?”

“I don’t have to bother repeating myself, send an email to be misread, or make any unnecessary phone calls.”

Clay eyed him cynically. “Okay, so far I’m following.”

“Me too,” I added, wondering what else was coming.

Tony then did something unexpected. He sighed loudly then he sat down on the lower step of the curved staircase.

“You both remember my mother?” he asked, sulking.

Clay and I both eyed each other. Oh, yeah.

“How could we forget?” I said.

Tony rubbed his eyes. “This is complicated.”

Clay rested his foot on the lower step directly separating Tony from me. A not-so-subtle message to our visitor.

I swear, males and their territory.

“I’m listening,” said Clay, sharply. I didn’t blame him. Tony caused so much chaos and threatened me numerous times in the past, which Tony eventually clarified. Still, Clay and I harbored a lot of distrust for this guy, including his crazy mother. They were an unpredictable duo for sure.

“After losing that money, she had a nervous breakdown. I’m sure you both noticed how edgy she was.”

“Oh, we noticed, all right,” I said, remembering vividly.

“And?” Clay asked, a man of few words at the moment.

“We arranged for a rest for her, somewhere quiet.”

“As in where?” I asked, now curious.

Tony sighed once more. “A sanatorium.”

“She did seem a little touchy at the end,” said Clay.

“That still doesn’t explain why you’re here now,” I said.

“I have a slight problem,” said Tony. “...She escaped.”

Chapter 25

Keeping Track Of More Than Money

Clay and I turned to eye each other again. Where to?

“So what do you expect us to do about it?” Clay asked.

“I want to hire the two of you to find her for me.”

“You’re joking, right?” I asked incredulously.

“I’ll pay you both double your going rate, plus bonus.”

Clay and I both glanced at each other once again.

Us work for Tony? Why us? Why now? Suspicious...

We were already being paid by Alicia and Chris Worth for babysitting their volatile homestead. Now Tony wanted to do the same to hunt down his volatile mother. Clay and I had joked about us living ‘the lush life’ and this extra cash, dicey by who was offering it, was too good to be true.

Why not get paid by Tony for keeping an eye on Tony?

I gave Tony a leery eye. “But you lost all your money.”

He looked up, shrugged. “It was my mother’s money.”

“And...?” Clay asked skeptically.

“I’ve had some good days at the track lately. I’m flush.”

I still wasn’t swayed. “What sanatorium? The name?”

Tony fished inside his breast pocket, came up empty then stood to reach into his rear pocket. A gun flashed off his back hip. It was attached to his belt.

“Hey, you said you weren’t carrying!” I challenged.

Tony looked at me and winked. “I lied.”

I noticed Clay had his hand inside his own jacket.

His mantra was mine. Trust no one...

Tony finally pulled out his wallet and retrieved a slip of paper from it. “Name, number, and address. Go check.”

I seized it first. Clay leaned over me to read it too.

“That town is in Upper Bucks County,” said Clay.

I turned to stare back at him. “How’d you know that?

Then Clay winked too. “I know more than you think.”

You see what I have to constantly deal with? Ah, trust...

“It’s about a forty-minute drive from here,” said Tony.

I wasn’t sure if Tony was trying to send us on a wild goose chase or not. But the ramifications of his momma on the loose in the middle of everything going on didn’t set well with me. For my protection we had to search for her.

Was she the nut who took that shot and texted me?

She was such a sweet lady in the beginning...

“Why don’t you look for her yourself?” I asked.

“I’ve been in New Hope awhile, doing just that.”

I smirked, remembering what Hazel told me. “I know.”

Both Tony and Clay looked at me and said, “How?”

I didn’t want to reveal what she’d said in front of Tony.

I grinned at them both. “I know more than you think.” I made eye contact with Clay. “Let’s do it, okay?”

Why we had enough sleuths here to open an agency!

“Are you sure?” Clay asked, surprised by my stance.

“Hey, the crew’s here, plus Mona, Scarlett, Teddy...”

“Who’s Scarlett and Teddy? And who invited Mona?”

...Uh-oh. Obviously, I had some explaining to do.

Chapter 26

Interrogation Techniques

Dictionary definition of interrogate: to question, cross-examine closely, debrief, pump, grill either formally or informally. This took place in Alicia’s office with the door closed so no one could hear our loud voices arguing.

“What do you mean you don’t know who Scarlett is?” I asked. “You’re telling me you didn’t invite her here?

This was not what I was hoping to hear.

“As far as Teddy and Mona being here, we need to discuss that too. Why are you so upset? I had nothing to do with any of this. It’s me that should be upset! After getting shot at and everything, I...”

“Whoa! Back up. ...Shot at?” Clay asked wide-eyed.

“Haven’t you gotten all my emails and texts?” I asked.

Clay began pacing. “No, not one! What is going on?”

So I told him in great detail. It took one solid hour.

When I finished Clay stopped pacing. “Unbelievable! I’m gone for just a few days and all this happened!”

“It’s obvious that someone has compromised our email, phones, computers and who knows what else,” I said. “And for what purpose? A stupid collectable book!”

“Must be a hell of a read,” Clay said, hugging me tight.

I pouted. “You’re lucky I always listen for and check my texts and emails diligently. Otherwise I’d be toast.”

Clay held me tight. I could feel his heart beating against mine. Then he kissed the top of my head. “Where would I get another Blondie like you. You’re irreplaceable, Sam.”

“How true.” I was just loving this cuddling thing we had going on. It was so long since we had done this.

...Okay, maybe just a few days, but I was needy.

Clay then leaned back a little to look into my eyes. He tilted my chin up to meet his lips that had killer-kiss written all over them. I wasn’t quite sure if I swooned or not, but probably did. My knees felt weak as he then tracked kisses over my eyes and down my neck, murmuring softly.

“Eyes deep as liquid pools.”

“Lips as soft as pillows.”

“A neck like a swan...”

“What?” I said, leaning away. “My neck is that long?”

Clay threw his head back, laughing. “Leave it to you to parse every word I say. You’re too literal, Sam.”

I huffed. “Well, I’m an author. I’m supposed to.”

“Take note, my pretty little scribe. I’m sorry you had to experience this without me here. But it sounds like you and your crew have handled this perfectly so far. How’s that?”

“Really?” I said, sifting his words for the punch line.

But there was none forthcoming.

Clay kissed me again.

And I melted into him again.

Then he put me at arm’s length. “We need a plan.”

“That’s what I said all along,” said a familiar voice.

We both turned to the doorway and stared at Martha.

“I admit, we did try real hard not to listen, right ladies?”

The rest of our crew filed into Alicia’s office, laughing.

Mona asked, “Ever thought of a doing a reality show?”

Chapter 27

Mensa Meeting Of The Minds

Definition of Mensa: an organization of people with high IQ’s of 130 and up. It includes members of all ages.

We had our own little group going. We all had pretty sharp IQ’s and our ages varied quite a bit. So I guess this was the perfect time for another meeting of our minds.

Every chair in Alicia’s office was occupied. Phones and iPads were out as well as my laptop, open and ready with my fingers hovering over the keyboard. Everyone gave their opinion on what had happened over the last couple of days as the others took note. It was pretty much just like I had portrayed to Clay. Then the subject of Tony came up.

They knew they’d find out more if he thought we two were alone, so they scrambled up the office back stairs to the Master and snuck along the upper hallway, hidden to watch us from above. Tony didn’t have a clue as his eyes were glued to me. I knew they were there, but Tony didn’t.

“So what do we do about Rhett’s sister?” asked Betty.

“Who’s Rhett? Am I missing something?” Clay asked.

Several minutes later he had the Gone-With-The-Wind explanation and just shook his head.

“Sam, you and I should sit down and to talk to Scarlett.”

“I agree. We all can’t be there for it. She tends to drink when nervous. And we’re about out of Southern Comfort.”

“Obviously, she got a bogus email too,” said Martha.

“And I fell for it hook, line, and sinker,” I said, annoyed with myself.

“Just like I did mine,” said Mona. “What about Teddy?”

“As Martha found out,” said Clay. “He was duped too.”

“I don’t think we should let Scarlett or Teddy in on what is really going on just yet until we figure this out,” I said.

“Which is what?” Martha asked.

“A potential book theft, by who or which book we’re not so sure yet.”

“Martha, why don’t you, Hazel and Betty stay here with Sam and keep going through the books,” Clay suggested.

Martha nodded. “Good idea.”

I turned to face Mona. “You keep Teddy medicated and Scarlett far from thirsty so you can keep tabs on them. Hopefully, they’ll stay in their rooms and away from the rest of the house and us.”

She agreed. “I’ll check out Scarlett’s profile online too.”

“I’ll travel to the sanatorium for some leads,” said Clay.

I didn’t like that one bit. “You’re leaving again?”

“Hey, it’s only for an afternoon. I’m taking Tony too.”

He was right. We agreed earlier to go for the other fee.

“We’ll hold off talking to Scarlett until you return.”

Clay laughed. “What could possibly happen until then?”

None of us females said anything for a full minute. We all stared at Clay like he was an alien. After all he’d heard?

Maybe he didn’t qualify for this Menstrual meeting...

Chapter 28

Stacking Up Books & Possibilities

Martha, Hazel, Betty, and I searched through the family room books and were now in the great room. I placed a cotton tablecloth on the long dining table there so when we sifted through the books, it was the perfect place to inspect each one carefully and big enough to handle the four of us simultaneously. We began grabbing a few books to inspect when we heard someone clear their throat behind us.

We all turned. It was Lucas, wearing his usual smile and holding a bucket with cleaners, cloths, and paper towels.

What was he doing inside the house and here now?

“Good morning, ladies,” he said. “What are you doing?”

I smiled back. “Funny, I was about to ask you that.”

“I always make time to help clean the house too.”

Was that true? Alicia wasn’t here to confirm that.

Hazel dropped her hand from a book. “How nice.”

Martha eyed his bucket. “You’re a real multitasker.”

Betty got right to it. “You clean all the rooms?”

“It’s less time the cleaning service needs to be here.”

Suddenly the four of us were on the same wavelength.

We had another possible suspect on our hands.

Maybe Lucas wasn’t as innocent and harmless as he appeared. If he had access to this house then he was a potential suspect for us to watch closely. He might have previously overheard about that valuable book.

Possible motive? Payback for having been let go before.

After having stayed in his apartment over the garages myself with Clay previously, I knew that it was attached to the house via the back stairway. It had Internet access and a land-line phone. I was also quite familiar with being able to hear sounds coming from the main house from there.

By him being attached by a back staircase, he also had total access via a no-lock door that led to the guest bedroom hallway on the second floor. I hadn’t considered Lucas’s complete and total access to the rest of the Worths’ house and all those books before.

Had he tapped into the Worths’ phones and Internet? I was already lining up my next conversation with him. For now, we had to get rid of him, like immediately, before he got nosy as to what we were really up to with these books.

“Hey, Lucas, I’ve been meaning to ask for your help.”

The others looked at me like I was out of my mind.

“Sure, are you looking for something special in here?”

“Just some favorite mystery authors, but that’s not why I need help. Can you check the right rear tire on the Jeep? The air’s low. It might be as simple as a leak from a nail.”

Martha grabbed her cell from her pocket. “Oh, my! I must take this call. Excuse me.” She dashed from the room.

“I didn’t hear her cell ring,” said Lucas, staring after her.

“Oh,” said Hazel. “She always keeps it on vibrate.”

Betty chimed in with, “She is so considerate that way.”

We all knew she’d be letting air out of the Jeep’s tire.

Chapter 29

To Die For

Several minutes later Lucas finally left us for the garage.

“That was close. He could be a possible suspect,” I said.

“We’ve learned that the hard way in the past on other cases, haven’t we?” said Betty, still staring at the doorway.

“Too many times, I’m afraid,” said Hazel.

“We must remember to think out of the box,” I warned.

“...And off the cuff,” gasped Martha, rushing in.

“Did he see you coming from the garage?” Betty asked.

“No! I took the back steps two at a time when I saw him exit the great room after I let air out of the Jeep’s back tire. Then I snuck down the foyer stairs and back in here.”

“I sure hope he’s not a part of this,” said Hazel.

“Would be a shame, but we must be careful,” said Betty.

Martha agreed. “With another potential male biting the dust, pickings would be slim. I loved that smile of his, but we can’t take that chance. It’s the quiet ones you’ve got to watch out for. He has motive: being let go and has access.”

“Let’s get back to work,” I suggested.

We all began working methodically, side by side, using Martha’s digital tablet, choosing books at random because of the collection’s sheer size. Each time we thought we had a book with potential, she hit antique book sites to verify. She also crosschecked past and present book auctions. But no book seemed to approach that high-end value worth someone bothering to go out of their way to orchestrate possible Internet and phone hacking.

Martha discovered that Amazon’s website had over a million rare, first edition, signed, out-of-print collectable books. She also flipped to their sister site, AbeBooks, which had an assortment of antique book categories:

Signed Books

First Editions

Book Appraisers

Rare Book Seller Directory...

Additional categories with photos plus double-checking against those lists made verifying more efficient. Martha kept busy researching then periodically read aloud to us.

“Get this. According to AbeBooks, ‘a book is considered rare when demand is greater than supply. Collectors and dealers also consider factors like the condition of the book, the importance of it and the demand for it.’”

“Then it’s subjective,” I said. “There’s no exact formula. Market demand plays a huge roll. That means we shouldn’t solely be focusing on the age of the books. It doesn’t mean they aren’t valuable, but let’s find one that stands out as far as being rare because it’s demand dwarfs all the others.”

“Exactly!” agreed Martha, looking down to read again. “Wow! AbeBooks has antique books ranging in price from $1.00 to $10,000,000.00!”

We all stood there openmouthed.

“Oh, my!” said a shocked Betty.

Hazel glanced around at the Worths’ vast collection.

“Who knew?”

No one said anything, digesting that tidbit.

I scanned the sheer volume of books surrounding us.

“I’d say that’s even worth killing over.”

“Keep moving folks,” ordered Martha.

The incentive to find it first and protect it was on...

Chapter 30

Loose Lips Ain’t Sinking This Ship

It was a balmy evening. A few kitchen windows were open to a gentle temperate breeze that billowed the curtains every so often. The long French rectangular table was set for nine. It would be an odd assortment assembled: Martha, Hazel, Betty, Yours Truly, Clay, Mona, Teddy, Scarlett, and finally, Tony, at Clay’s insistence.

Keep your friends close, your enemies closer, Clay said.

I don’t know exactly what Clay thought he was going to achieve, but I finally agreed after he remarked it was the perfect opportunity to try to observe everyone’s interaction toward each other. And once wine and conversation began flowing, we might pick up possible traces of deception.

Martha’s take? Loose lips sunk ships, so drink up.

The buffet was a favorite: Glazed duck in orange sauce, salad, almond string beans, scalloped potatoes, and a French baguette. White and red wine would be served: Santa Rita Reserva Sauvignon Blanc: Chile and Campo Viejo Rioja Reserva: California, but first Veuve Clicquot Champagne.

Hazel lit the tall candles, Betty dimmed the lights, and Clay turned on some soft jazz. I motioned to him to turn it low so the music wouldn’t interfere with the conversation. I wanted to hear what everyone had to say.

Apparently, not much.

Over hors d'oeuvres of shrimp, mini teriyaki meatballs and almonds, I noticed uneasiness among the group. With the exception of our crew, the others were mostly silent, concentrating on the food, giving one-syllable yes or no answers. I was hoping that by the time we sat for dinner maybe they’d be more relaxed. They weren’t.

So far, this had signs of disaster written all over it.

Once seated, Martha offered a toast.

“To our hostess, Samantha!”

Everyone dutifully smiled, nodded and sipped.

But she kept going. “To her solving this next mystery!”

I spilled my drink, Betty choked, and Hazel coughed.

Clay just glared at Martha. She tossed him back a grin.

Mona covered her mouth with her napkin.

Tony smiled and raised his glass. “The hunt is on!”

Was he referring to that valuable book or his mother?

Teddy silently gulped his wine and motioned for more.

Scarlett said, “Y’awl have Southern Comfort instead?”

“Have you finished your questions, Scarlett?” I asked.

She tinged pink. “I uh, think so. Pertinent ones too.”

Then I turned to Teddy. “And how are you feeling?”

“Much better. Thanks.”

Mona patted him on the back. “He’s a real champ.”

He smiled then carefully began to eat, avoiding his lip.

No one seemed in a talkative mood. I wondered why?

Martha, the provocateur, cleared her throat and spoke.

“Tony, how’s your momma’s trigger finger doing?”

He didn’t miss a beat. “Hasn’t shot at anybody lately.”

Everyone cracked up. She’d finally broken the ice.

Chapter 31

Trailing The Truth

Tony said to Scarlett. “I hear you like mysteries?”

She gushed, “I’m Samantha’s biggest fan!”

Tony caught my eye. “I must admit, I am now too.”

My turn to tinge pink. “Why thank you both.”

“Yup, solving them is her specialty,” said Martha.

Teddy turned to me. “How do you figure them out?”

“Deceptive people eventually get too confident, trip up and give themselves away by talking too much and making contradicting remarks. I keep track of their mounting lies.”

“How?”

“With Internet search engines, profiles and habits can be followed, your whereabouts with GPS on cells and cars can be detected. Information can be gathered, like credit cards, licenses, etc. Our assumed veil of privacy no longer exists. For a price you can get just about anything on anybody.”

No one said anything as my response sunk in.

Then Scarlett asked, “Are you saying it’s easier with more information out there today, versus back in the day?”

“More electronic info today, less legwork,” I said.

Scarlett nodded. “Making it easier to track, convict...”

“What if false information is out there?” posed Teddy.

“I admit that’s also a problem,” I said. “People spread rumors, make many false accusations, and report erroneous information about someone on the Internet. I rely on credible sources that I can depend on. There are those I can trust and those I don’t. I still have to do so-called legwork, but electronically and mostly with my fingers instead.”

“What if someone has no other choice?” Tony asked.

All eyes honed in on Tony with his odd segue.

“...What do you mean, no other choice?” I asked.

“About what someone feels they must do,” he replied.

Tony wasn’t talking solving them, but committing them.

“As in being coerced or trapped?” I asked.

“In a way, yes. Like there’s no alternative,” he said.

“There’s frequently an alternative,” said Hazel.

“In all cases?” Scarlett asked.

“Trust me, there are exceptions,” Tony replied.

“You’re either guilty or not guilty,” Betty said firmly.

“A side bet on potential crimes anyone?” Mona joked.

“Hypotheticals versus reality. Interesting,” said Teddy.

We all stared at vanity-conscious Teddy.

Like Tony, maybe Teddy was smarter than I thought.

“Nothing intangible about theft or murder,” I said.

“People leave two kinds of fingerprints,” said Clay. He then leaned in for emphasis, adding, “Physical and digital.”

Tony tapped his head. “What about considering it.”

“You don’t get arrested for the thinking, just the doing.”

“And now for all your just desserts!” I said serving it up.

“Ha! You meant physical not justifiable,” said Scarlett.

“Boy, I’d be arrested for some of mine,” said Martha.

Pulling out the rug on this one wouldn’t be easy...

Chapter 32

Non-digital Footprints

I had an eerie feeling the previous evening someone was eavesdropping on our conversation and could have sworn I saw a shadowy figure outside the porte cochere end of the room. I was sitting at the head of the wide table with Clay, so I was facing that direction. Was it just moonlit shadows? Was someone there? Was I mistaken? Instinct told me no, I wasn’t. If that was the case, could someone on the outside be working with someone on the inside? Because of that, I said nothing. I would watch and wait.

Could that someone have been Tony’s mother?

I was walking along those same windows, but outside, while sipping my morning cup of coffee, pretending to admire the flowerbed, but really checking for footprints. I still felt this was one bet I would have taken with Mona last night had she asked. I stopped short. I wasn’t imagining it.

There, squashed flowers right by that window that was open last night. I doubted deer caused it. They wouldn’t come this close to the windows: too noisy with us talking. Besides, there weren’t any chewed up plants. There weren’t any that were eaten anywhere, just those flattened flowers.

“Looking for something?” a voice asked behind me.

I jumped in place, startled by who snuck up on me.

It was Lucas, smiling his usual smile, while carrying his bucket filled to the brim. Today it was filled with garden tools. He was wearing dark sunglasses so I couldn’t see his eyes to tell the true intent of his words. Usually I can read people, but this guy I couldn’t get a bead on.

Although I saw and verified his license at the start, was this the real Lucas standing there? The harmless individual he portrayed to us? Or was he something else entirely? There were others that fooled me at the start of my sleuthing. In time my suspects’ veneers wore thin, and it was only then I got a glimpse of what simmered below the surface. Was he just a friendly, harmless groundskeeper?

Or was Tony’s mother the one behind all these threats? Was she crazy enough to go after something in this house to recoup her art loss she felt was owed her? Was she still angry? Add to that Tony’s bizarre inferences last night at the dinner table and it was confusing as to who was behind these escalating threats. Did they include Tony or not?

“I was admiring your flowerbeds, but it seems a deer or some other animal trampled some of your lovely flowers.”

He looked down to where I was staring then back at me.

“You’d be surprised by what lurks out here at night.”

“They must see and hear more than they bargained for.”

He laughed again. “You might be right.”

I left it at that. I didn’t want him doubting my intent.

“I think I need another cup of coffee. Too much wine last night,” I said turning to leave.

I could’ve sworn I heard a reply. I turned back to Lucas, but his face was unreadable: a complete blank.

Was I glimpsing at all there was to this man?

“Catch you later,” I said turning away again.

“I can’t wait to read your next mystery,” he called out.

Laughing lightly, I said, “Once I solve it, neither can I.”

I heard a chuckle behind me as I walked inside.

Lucas seemed harmless, but you never know...

Tony and his mother, who had resurfaced, were another snag that made me uncomfortable to say the least.

Chapter 33

Online & More

I was making another cup of coffee at the coffee maker when someone said, “Hurry up. I’m desperate.”

Mona looked like hell. The minute I filled my cup, she gently but firmly shoved me aside to make one for herself.

“He snored louder than a buzz saw,” she said irritably.

I tried not to laugh, but failed. “Broken nose and all?”

In response, she gave me an arched brow.

I returned one of my own. “What’d you expect? He’s drugged all the time. And last night, all the wine he had. He shouldn’t have drank to begin with. You didn’t stop him.”

“Bad enough I listen to his moaning,” she countered.

“I haven’t heard complaints on those fringe benefits.”

“Well, he did keep me distracted previously...”

“Seriously, you think he’s as harmless as he lets on?”

“I thought about that and dug deeper.”

“How, if he gave you an alias?”

“I dug into his wallet,” she said grinning.

“Good move.”

“Should have done it sooner, but my attention was...”

“I know, distracted before his unfortunate accident.”

“No reason to check Teddy further after he came clean to Martha about why he was here. Plus, at the hospital his insurance card went through and the nurse kept calling him Mr. Pirelli. But after last night at the dinner table, I got curious to know more about him. I can’t explain it, but something didn’t feel right. So I decided to tear apart his wallet. Initially he told me his name was Teddy Pirelli.”

“And now you know that wasn’t exactly true.”

“His license read Anton T. Pirelli.”

“There’s something more, isn’t there?”

“Something more interesting.”

“What?”

“He hails from Tony’s neighborhood.”

“Are we talking same town?”

“Yes. I’m thinking possibly connected like Tony.”

“Well, he hasn’t done anything yet, has he?” I asked.

“That’s just it. No. Plus, I asked around and made a few side calls to my people. No convictions under that name.”

“He could just be a naïve actor/model like he claimed.”

Mona laughed. “Who got innocently caught up in this?”

“Not likely, huh? Especially after he lied to you.”

Like I’ve said before, I didn’t know, nor did I want to know who Mona’s people were. As long as I was never arrested in the process, I was good to go.

“Oh!” said Mona. “Miss Scarlett complained you’re out of Southern Comfort. Want me to go buy some for you?”

“Would you, Mona? That would be great.”

“You do realize you’d have to babysit you-know-who.”

I had books to inspect... “When are his next pills due?”

“Don’t worry,” said Mona. “I just gave them to him.”

Chapter 34

Sleep My Pretty One

I snuck upstairs to check on our patient to make sure he was resting and not wandering around. After that I planned to text Clay, who had already left with Tony again when I woke up. But he needed to hear this latest news about Teddy.

I listened at Teddy’s bedroom door. All was silent. I still thought it prudent to check anyway. I quietly turned his doorknob, opened it slightly and peered into the dimly lit room. I blinked then blinked again. No one was in the bed. I listened to the adjoining bath. No noise.

Where was he?

When I stepped further into the room I heard the door abruptly close shut behind me with a click. I spun around. Teddy was grinning, standing between me and my exit out.

After hearing about the latest from Mona on this guy, to say I was a little uneasy was underscoring it.

“Mona asked me to make sure you were okay,” I said.

“I appreciate all the concern.”

He had no idea how concerned I was, cornered in this darkened room with a very suspicious-seeming person.

“Have you seen through anyone’s façade yet?” he asked.

Now, I could take that two ways. He was feeling me out about what I knew or he was still hung up on last night’s conversation at dinner. He swayed slightly. I eyed the door.

I made light of it. “Didn’t know you spoke French.”

He grinned with a slight bow. “Pretense is my forte.”

I laughed nervously. “Ah, another French word.”

“Ever the clever sleuth you are! Don’t miss a thing.”

“I try not to.”

“I should read one of your mysterious tomes.”

I froze in place.

Now, why use that particular word? Why not book?

Suddenly he gave a loud yawn.

“I don’t know why I’m so tired all the time. Mona keeps giving me these vitamin energy drinks too.”

Ah, so that was how she gave him added sleep cocktails.

“You really should get some rest.”

He abruptly moved forward. Nervous, I dodged. Then I realized I was blocking his destination: his bed. He barely made falling into it, rolled over, and was asleep in seconds.

“Good boy. Sleep my pretty one. Stay out of trouble.”

I then hastily made my way out and shut the door.

He didn’t appear to be much of a threat in this condition. Maybe he wasn’t a real danger at all. Maybe he changed his name to be an actor and model to get out of the ‘hood.

And maybe I was way off base.

Chapter 35

A Sense Of Humor?

Now working in the great room and sorting through the books, my senior trio were proving to be invaluable when it came to deciphering and relegating what books were worth separating from the others.

Betty handed one to Martha. “All those years Hazel and I worked in Clay’s Aunt Jenny’s bookshop helps big time.”

“From being librarians to Jenny then Clay,” said Hazel.

Martha opened another book. “Let’s hope that pays off and we don’t miss something we shouldn’t.”

“I know, I’d hate to have a redo on this room,” I said.

“It could happen. That’s why we shouldn’t rush through this process. We have to be thorough,” said Hazel.

Betty looked up. “Has anyone seen Lucas around?”

We couldn’t afford a repeat visit. He’d get suspicious.

“I pulled the plug on the garage opener,” said Martha.

“That was risky,” I said. “You could’ve fallen.”

“There was no hesitation on my part. I knew all the risks involved. But I appreciate your concern.”

“Ha!” said Hazel. “She didn’t say that when she asked me to do it instead. She knows I despise heights. I could’ve landed on the Jeep’s canvas ragtop and broken something.”

“Yeah, like the Jeep’s roof,” laughed Martha.

“We have weightier issues to deal with,” chided Betty.

Martha chuckled. “Hard to ignore the obvious.”

“You’re comportment! Such ignominy!” Hazel scolded.

Martha turned to me. “Hey, did she just swear at me?”

I was about to say something when the doorbell buzzed. I turned to stare out the great room doors directly across from the foyer to the front door. It rang again. What now?

“Another guest? We’re flush with a full house already.”

“You don’t suppose...” said Betty.

“Now, what are the chances...?” Hazel asked.

The third time it rang I found my legs and moved.

Martha grabbed her phone. “I’m taking a picture.”

“Good,” said Hazel. “Or the others won’t believe this.”

“What if it’s Tony’s crazy mother?” warned Betty.

“Grab that heavy dictionary,” ordered Martha, pointing.

“And hide behind the front door with it,” added Hazel.

“Don’t get carried away, ladies,” I said unconvincingly.

Martha smacked her forehead. “What was I thinking? I forgot. People don’t get shot at in broad daylight, do they?”

“Touché,” I said, remembering my close warning shot.

I whispered over to Hazel, “Go grab a large vase.”

When everyone was in place, I opened the door slowly.

A deliveryman asked, “Are you Samantha Jamison?”

After I nodded, he handed me a blood-red vase filled with one dozen red roses. “...Uh, thanks,” I stammered.

He chuckled. “This sender has a real sense of humor.”

I shut the door then read the card out loud.

“Roses R red, Violets R blue. Bang! I almost got U.”

“Just what I needed before my interview with Scarlett.”

Chapter 36

Interview Interrupted

First thing I noted, Scarlett was anxious. Her foot was tapping a mile a minute on the floor, as she kept glancing down to reread from her notepad resting on her lap. Why the unease? I was the one being scrutinized here. Or did she think she was? Was she worried I was analyzing her? Was Scarlett a potential suspect? With several mysteries under my belt, I noticed I had that effect on people. She did admit it was her first interview with an author of my stature.

My stature? I had to laugh at that. No pretention here.

I did just fine as an author. I had a great agent, terrific editor, and a reliable publisher. I wrote for my enjoyment and my readers, who loved my mysteries and blog posts, leaving enthusiastic comments on my website.

With that in mind, I said, “I’m ready when you are.”

Scarlett gave me an eager smile. “Why mysteries?”

So I explained about my husband Stephen’s suspicious death, the unanswered questions I wanted explained, doing my own investigation, how I couldn’t move on until I knew the why of it all...

“Was there any apprehension or reluctance about taking on that task by yourself and what you might uncover?”

“At first, yes, but then the more I dug into his past, the more I learned about myself, as well as our relationship. It was a learning curve I never would have experienced if I didn’t take a leap of faith about my own ability in solving the mystery. I always took a backseat to my husband. With him gone I had no choice but to sit in the driver’s seat. It was self-enlightening to say the least.”

“What did you gain from that?”

“Self-respect and self-confidence.”

“Were you ever plagued with self-doubt at any time?”

I laughed. “Just about every time I bungled an interview or blew an opportunity when it fell in my lap.”

“What did you lose from that experience?”

I smiled. “I lost my helpless attitude.”

“What did you gain?”

I didn’t hesitate. “Insane and crazy friends I cherish.”

“I notice how you tend to sit back, listen, and constantly watch people.”

“I’m always looking for dialogue, deceit, and evasion.”

“So when you’re solving a mystery, that helps?”

“Absolutely. You’d be surprised how people trip up.”

“In what way?”

“Can’t keep their lies straight, get overconfident...”

“Like you explain in your mystery series.”

“Exactly. I’m always watching how people react.”

“To what?”

“When I push the parameters of their safety zone.”

Scarlett laughed. “Do you have a safety zone of your own?”

“I have a line in the sand that gets redrawn daily.”

“Who’s shocked most at the end? You? Your suspect?”

This time I laughed. “My readers!”

Okay, so I lied. Even I’m shocked sometimes...

Scarlett’s cell rang. She glanced at it, frowned and said, “Excuse me. I must take this call.”

Chapter 37

Deja Vu Revisited

I left her, and wandered outside. I chose the small, black, wrought iron bistro table for two located just outside the kitchen windows adjacent to the shelter of the porte cochere in the shadows of the house. Although protected, it gave me a magnificent view of all the rear gardens and remaining back property.

Since the weather was sunny and breezy I grabbed my laptop to sit and take some notes while sipping a glass of iced tea. Robins and Blue Jays constantly chirping and an occasional whinny from the horses next door in their corral completed my backdrop.

Besides, I wasn’t stupid. That table was a whole lot safer than walking out in open areas and more preferable than sitting in Alicia’s office. After settling in, I began typing some notes.

What was so urgent to cut Scarlett’s interview short?

You’d think Scarlett would have ignored that call. That meant maybe my interview wasn’t that high on her list of accomplishments. Who was it? My mindset on this woman needed tweaking. Originally, I felt sure she was duped, but after that unfinished interview I wasn’t so convinced.

What was Tony’s real motive?

To distract us or motivate us to find that book for him?

Who sent those red roses and that note?

The emails, texts, and delivered red roses: untraceable. Earlier, I had checked with the florist’s two busy clerks. Someone came into the shop, ordered the flowers, and paid cash. The customer had worn sunglasses, hat, bulky clothes, and, according to them, was totally unrecognizable. Neither were sure about gender. The buyer whispered it was a practical joke and that I’d find their note humorous.

I paused and stared down at my keyboard to my laptop, noticing for the first time I’d worn the edges off the keys of my colon, my comma, my period, and my question mark.

Hmm... Symbolic of my life, I guess: another paradox!

I was still brooding when someone spoke, startling me.

“Mind if I join you?”

I nearly knocked my tea onto my keyboard.

“Don’t you have a home?” I said, surprised to see him.

Tony sat across from me with his own iced tea.

“Clay canceled our plans to meet me here. Some kind of emergency. Martha offered iced tea, thinking I needed to chill out about my mother and all.”

I felt like asking him what and all was. That book? Me? But then, knowing Tony, I figured he’d get to that sooner or later. Though seldom vague, most of the time he kept it on the money. Now, he was taking his sweet old time.

I laughed at my own unintentional pun.

“What’s so funny?” he asked.

“I’m sitting across from you, drinking iced tea, and for once no money or gun is involved between us.”

He lip curled up slightly. “Hey, the day is still young.”

“I need protection, not sarcasm. I’m wearing a target.”

“I heard,” Tony said, sipping more of his tea.

He looked up, then smiled when I said, “You’ve been eavesdropping.”

Still skittish about being out in the open, but craving it, I kept scanning the perimeter of the back area.

I caught Tony watching me intently. He was reading my thoughts about his mother being behind this.

“Don’t worry. She won’t shoot. I’m too close to you.”

My eyes jerked to him. “So she’s not that good.”

Tony laughed then turned serious. “Look, we both know we’re talking about my mother, who’s still on the loose.”

Was my last mystery about art fraud still an issue?

“I had nothing to do with her losing her money!”

“Don’t take it so personal. She just went crazy.”

“But I don’t like being at the top of her get-even list.”

“We won’t know that for sure until we find her, right?”

“It’s amazing both of you got off on a technicality.”

Tony began scanning the area too. “Hey, we didn’t kill anyone. Don’t be so jumpy. I’m here and I’m still her son.”

“Her favorite one?” I asked, taking another sip of tea.

“Her only one. A hit to me would shave off her lineage.”

“Is that important to her?”

“Sure. Especially since she cut down my old man.”

I set my glass down. “You’re joking.”

“It was accidental. At least that’s what she told me.”

And her definition of accidental? “What happened?”

“She claims he got caught in her crosshairs.”

“Her crosshairs?”

“Her intended target.”

I was almost afraid to ask. “And who was her target?”

“My mother thought his mistress was a robber attacking him in their bed. Said it reminded her of that old proverb.”

I knew I’d regret it, but asked anyway. “Which one?”

“That famous one: killing two birds with one stone.”

I sighed. “You think your mother is really crazy?”

“I don’t think, I know. But she’s still my mother.”

“How can I relax with her still out there?”

“Stick with me. I’m in the protection business.”

I was sure he was, being connected and all.

A loud twig snapped from near the corner of the garage. Tony put his finger to his lips, got up, placed his hand inside his jacket then silently took off in that direction. Was it his mother? I packed up and dashed inside, more than a little uneasy. Why was Tony suddenly protecting me? I waited for a full ten minutes from the safety of inside, peering out from the curtains, but Tony never returned.

I kept repeating, book and suspect, over and over...

Both were hiding in plain sight, weren’t they?

Chapter 38

Going Batty

Mona was taking everyone out for dinner in New Hope at Marsha Brown’s for some Creole cooking. I was beat and begged off, after returning the last of the collectable books to the family room shelves. We rechecked them, verifying their value with the book sites and past auctions.

I knew the ladies were looking forward to going out. Mona also managed to get Scarlett and Teddy to go too. I didn’t think there was enough money out there to make me accept babysitting that group, bonus included. This was round two of Mona taking one for the team.

Clay returned shortly after Tony disappeared and headed straight for Chris’ office to make a few calls, still chasing down leads on Tony’s mother. That was probably why Clay had taken off earlier by himself, hence Tony bugging me.

I never got to speak with Clay about my sit down with Tony that afternoon, but would make a point of it tonight. I couldn’t believe we had a few hours alone to talk later on.

I passed by Clay, saying, “I’m going up to shower.”

I took the stairway to the master bedroom, reading an email on my phone, opened our bedroom door then shut it.

Then I heard Clay yell from downstairs.

“Holy shit! There’s a bat in the house!”

I stopped cold and peeked out, yelling, “What? Where?”

“It just flew down these stairs!”

I sucked in air. I had just walked up those stairs checking emails and had walked right passed it. My mind refused to accept that, so I yelled back to him reassuringly.

“It was probably just a bird that got into the house.”

I could deal with a bird. But a bat? Uh-uh.

“Sam, I know the difference between a bat and a bird!”

Then panicky thoughts gripped me. Could it be rabid? Where did it come from? One of the chimneys? No, there were chimney caps on them. I yelled down to Clay from behind the safety of our bedroom door, “Where is it now?”

He called out, “When I approached the first step to come upstairs it flew down passed me over my head. I don’t know where it went! I don’t see it anywhere down here.”

Well, there are two rooms in that area: Alicia’s office and Chris’s, then the hallway leads from that office to the rest of the house. I cautiously made my way down the steps and we both searched the two offices from top to bottom: Clay did the heavy lifting and moving. I gave instructions.

Isn’t that the way it’s supposed to be?

We then proceeded to check the rest of the house and were walking back to the two offices when we noticed the basement door wide open.

“Let’s go,” said Clay. “We should check down there.”

I stared at him like he was a snake with two heads.

“What do you mean, we?”

“You’re kidding, right? You write murder mysteries!”

I gritted my teeth and gestured, “You first, my good man. I’ve got your back.”

Clay shook his head, walking down. I followed closely. You guessed it. No bat. We made our way back up to our bedroom. After we shut the stairway door to our bedroom, I repeated, “Are you sure it wasn’t a bird?”

“Remember that barn in New Hampshire?”

He was right. We house-sat a horse farm a while back with a large barn. Bats were always congregating in the cupola at the top. He could identify one.

Then I remembered. “Oh, I almost forgot. I left my laptop on. Let me go and shut it off.”

I turned on the light and descended the stairway, stepped off the last step at the bottom, made the turn into my office and guess what flew right by in front of me? You guessed it, that damn bat. I began screaming like a wild woman.

I think they heard me all the way in California.

I raced out and smacked right into Clay, who rushed in. I shoved him into his office.

“Get it out! Now! I can’t believe I’ve been going in and out of that office all night to check emails and that creature was in there with me! He still is! Find it and get rid of it before it disappears again!”

Clay approached my office door and walked through, while I followed peeking over his shoulder. The minute he turned on all the overhead lights that bat went crazy flying back and forth across my office. I screamed again, turned and promptly slammed my office door shut leaving Clay in in there with me yelling, “Don’t let him escape!”

I heard all kinds of commotion then nothing. Silence.

Then I heard, “I can’t find him.”

I leaned against the door dumbfounded.

“...What? He’s got to be in there!”

“Well, he’s not in here anywhere.”

I whipped the door open. “We just can’t leave him in there! That’s way too creepy.”

“I agree,” he said. “You’ll have bat shit and urine all over the place in no time.”

After a few minutes of silence, he said, “We might as well go up to bed. He’s not there.”

I looked back at him. “Over my dead body! You expect me to write in there?”

I couldn’t even picture that bat relieving himself either. Clay smirked. I knew he was daring me to come up with an alternative. I marched passed him right into my office.

“We are finding him together and tonight!”

Clay grabbed a flashlight and started looking under furniture, behind my bookcase... Me? I’m a Virgo: very methodical. I started with the first thing on the perimeter of my office: blinds first. Nothing.

Next, my closed drapes. While keeping my body as far away as I could, I reached out and vigorously shook the heavy drapes back and forth. Out tumbled the bat rolling onto the carpet. He went airborne and so did I, right out of my office, slamming the door firmly behind me.

“Get him out! I know you can see him now!” I shouted through the closed office door.

I heard commotion and cursing from the other side.

I wasn’t sure if it was Clay or the bat.

I was so proud of my brave Clay, duking it out in there. Of course, I was hanging onto the doorknob tightly. So even if Clay did try to open it, he couldn’t.

He had a job to do and by golly he was going to do it!

“Grab a towel from the powder room in there and trap him in it,” I suggested.

I heard more commotion then one of the French doors being opened then I heard Clay’s footsteps outside then that same door closing shut.

Suddenly, the office door separating the two offices was ripped from my grasp. Clay stood there grinning, flushed from his victory.

“He’s out!”

I jumped into his arms and kept kissing him repeatedly.

“My hero has done it again!”

Then I winked, batted my eyelashes, and invited Clay upstairs to our bedroom with a come-hither seductive look.

“I want to personally thank you, Batman!”

No costume needed here...

Chapter 39

Lost & Found

In spite of Clay’s heroic feats, I still felt jumpy the next morning as I typed notes in Alicia’s office. Mona’s voice startled me.

“Just shoot me next time I offer to take them out again.”

“Oh, it couldn’t be as bad as my evening,” I said.

Mona sat in the nearest chair. “Speak to me.”

So I told her in rich and vivid detail—leaving out what happened after it was all over.

“I think I may have you beat for the top spot,” she said.

“This I have to hear.”

“Teddy started out with Maker’s Mark whiskey. Before I could stop her, Scarlett ordered Southern Comfort. So far so good, until we were told dinner was delayed.”

“Let me guess,” I said. “They kept on drinking.”

“Pretty soon Scarlett began singing, right after your senior trio left for the ladies room. Then Teddy joined in, turning it into a duet.”

I chuckled. “And you? You would’ve made a great trio.”

“Trust me, Marsha Brown’s doesn’t do Karaoke.”

“So what were they singing?”

“The theme song for Gone With The Wind!”

I didn’t know it had lyrics.

“The waiter finally showed up with their food, I guess, just to shut the both of them up.”

“So it all worked out then?”

“Not exactly. Martha, Hazel and Betty never returned.”

They were senior citizens. “Nothing serious, I hope.”

“Depends on how you see it.”

“Talk.”

“I instructed Teddy and Scarlett to start while I went to see what happened to them. I opened the restroom door and they piled out, almost knocking me down, all talking at the same time about Tony’s mother, that crazy woman.”

My stomach sank. “She was there?”

“Apparently Martha was about to come out of her stall when she stopped cold, noticing Tony’s mother washing her hands, her gun resting on the sink. Martha immediately backed up and locked her door again, texting the others not to come out under any circumstances.”

“Smart. So Tony’s mother eventually left?”

“That nut washes her hands before she enters a stall? The standoff began when she lost her patience and banged on the stalls with what sounded like the butt of her gun.”

“Did anyone else come in?”

“No. The restaurant was packed, speaker music was playing, the bar was full. You couldn’t hear anything else.”

“So then what happened?”

“She finally stormed out. I entered as the ladies ran out. She’d disappeared. We texted Clay and left shortly after.”

“So that was why Clay took off early this morning.”

“There’s more,” said Mona frowning.

“What else?”

“Something’s not right. As we were leaving, I spotted her with Tony talking at a side table downstairs in the pub.”

So why did Tony hire us to find her? This smelled.

Chapter 40

Belladonna

Belladonna: The leaves are just as deadly as the roots.

I thought it an offbeat place to meet, because the Worths’ house was certainly large enough to find some nook or cranny to talk in private, but Teddy insisted. Why there, I had no idea, but figured he had his reasons. He also insisted I come alone. No sleuthing crew, especially Mona.

The sudden lack of trust in Mona was obvious. They had arrived together, but their relationship had changed since the finger/nose incident. Amazing how stitches and drugs can alter circumstances. Teddy’s swelling had gone down considerably. But his demeanor about being seen in public hadn’t changed a bit. He was still apprehensive and edgy.

We were at Villa Vito on Bridge Street in downtown New Hope. It was an Italian restaurant with indoor and outdoor seating that was set up like a cozy grotto with tree-strung lights at night. Teddy insisted we sit outside by the running water fountain to mask our conversation from any eavesdropping by people at nearby tables.

We ordered the house salad, wine, and Caprese pizza. Teddy’s face still spoke volumes and I guess the owner felt sorry for him and surprised us with an appetizer of roasted vegetables on the house while we waited, subtly hinting about the possible car accident Teddy was in. Both Teddy and I let him think what he wanted and thanked him.

The finger-in-the-mail would be hard to explain.

We were both forking the appetizer when Teddy spoke.

“I guess you’re wondering why I asked you here.”

I nodded. “It had crossed my mind.”

I was instructed by Clay, Mona, and my crew to keep my cell phone handy just in case. The only one who was ignorant of this fact was Teddy. He thought we were meeting there on the sly.

“I’m must apologize for deception on my part,” he said.

“Deception?” I asked, playing dumb.

“I’m just an actor who was hired to romance Mona.”

I cleared my throat. “I figured it was an odd match-up. But don’t you think you should be telling this to Mona?”

“I think Mona hustled me on the other side, so there is enough shared guilt on both ends of this relationship.”

I was surprised by his astute take on the situation, but still wary as to why he chose now as the appropriate time to say something. “So, why tell me now?”

“I received a cash bonus slipped under my door today.”

My natural reaction was, “Was there a note with it?”

“A short one saying my services were no longer needed. It was a pure kiss-off note. In other words, get lost.”

“I’d be upset myself at being set up too,” I said “But it’s too late now. I do have a question for you though.”

“Sure,” he said. “Ask away.”

“Who hired you for this job?”

“It was all done via the Internet and after seeing it was a harmless stunt that was described, I accepted. Besides, I was stone broke and desperately needed the money.”

How long would he keep this pretense going?

“Was it worth it?”

He tapped his face, frowning. “I earned today’s bonus.”

At that point I didn’t mention me being shot at. He was hired to play his part and did. Not very well, but when I took into consideration what happened, I’d say that Teddy got the short end of the stick in the deal, bonus included.

...If he was telling the truth. It was time to get serious.

“Is that why you didn’t use your real name, Anton?”

Teddy stiffened. “Then you know. But how?”

“Mona,” was all I said.

He deflated like a flat tire.

“You think you’re the only one with perfected acting skills?” I asked. “She’s a pro at deception.”

“She knew?”

“The minute she dug further into your background.”

“But I meant no harm,” countered Teddy defensively.

“The meaning and the cause in this were intertwined.”

“I should admit something else.”

I rubbed my eyes at that. I hated confessions. “Shoot.”

“Just because of this relationship, doesn’t mean I...”

I cut him off. “Doesn’t excuse your actions.”

“And your point is?”

I took a wild shot. “Was Tony the one who hired you?”

He blew out a breath, leaned back, and faltered.

“...No...his mother, my aunt, known as Belladonna, did.”

So Tony and Teddy were her offshoots? Some lineage.

“I must admit, I didn’t see that one coming.”

Maybe I should just kill myself and save her the trouble.

Chapter 41

Confession & Concession

Mona, Clay, Martha, Hazel, and Betty listened while I recapped my bizarre rendezvous. As my story concluded, the group discussed Teddy’s fess-up. Should we play it out to catch Tony and his mother red-handed?

I stated the obvious. “Why would Teddy take the risk on such an unpredictable job in the first place?”

We then eyed each other. Who were we kidding? We took risks on a daily basis. We made a living off predicting the unpredictable. Sometimes those risks were borderline ethical (Martha, Hazel, Betty and me). Sometimes they were not so ethical (Mona). Clay floated in and out of both.

“I’m sure coercion and money played a role,” said Clay.

“Teddy isn’t the type to pull this off on his own. It had to be someone on the outside with a serious vested interest in the money angle. So what he said rings true,” Hazel said.

I agreed. “Again it’s always about the money, isn’t it?”

“It also leads us back to questionable Tony,” said Mona.

“But why bother asking us to find his mother?” I asked.

“Maybe he’s trying to stop his mother,” offered Betty.

“That would explain him meeting her,” added Hazel.

“Or he’s in cahoots with her,” suggested Martha.

“Either way, it’s bound to turn sour,” I said.

“Sounds like one specific book is everyone’s main focus and the big ticket item for a sizable payday,” said Clay.

“Mine is hitting the lottery,” said Martha.

“Powerball, triple play, or the state one?” asked Betty.

“You know, I heard the odds are more favorable with the scratch-off one,” said Hazel.

“No kidding,” said Betty. “I never knew that.”

“Maybe we should play them all,” suggested Martha.

Mona held up her hand in frustration. “Is this what it’s going to be like when I get older and can’t stay on topic?”

“We call it abstract, linear thinking,” laughed Martha.

“Let’s try and stay focused,” I said.

“On what?” asked Martha jokingly.

“Now, who’s going to sit down with Tony to get him to slip up to find out more on this ruse of theirs?” I asked.

Silently, everyone’s eyes traveled the room. But then they all stopped in one place...where I was standing.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” I said, raising my palm.

“Do we look like we are?” said Clay, grinning.

“You of all people are suggesting I play mental and physical leap frog with that two-timing, gun-toting crook?”

“Who better to banter with than our queen of repartee herself, you,” he offered. “Besides, I trust your instincts.”

I checked the room for any snickers of laughter, making sure everyone was on board with this plan. I personally didn’t like it, but when I gave it some thought, I figured Tony wouldn’t open up to the others for various reasons, namely he had no interest in them. He might slip up for me.

So, reluctantly I made the concession.

Chapter 42

Sharkbait

Tony’s sharkbait: me, a thirty-something blonde, who was considered sexually attractive by you-know-who, and like an idiot, had given my consent to lure a shark, Tony, into confiding to me what was really going on. I had to put a stop to this before Momma Belladonna did more damage.

I had to put the squeeze on someone who wanted to put the squeeze on me. I fantasized over a signed statement I could hand over to the police to leave me out of this mess, remembering the guns associated with Tony and his crazy momma once before. Besides, I was much too young to die.

I still had a huge bucket list I hadn’t addressed yet.

Everyone congratulated me on taking one for the team.

Since we were running out of options, I went with it. I’d be dangling out there freestyle. It was a shame he wasn’t on our side. Tony’s connections would add more dimension to our slippery crew. He possessed one virtue we valued most.

He was just as sneaky as we were.

* * * * *

Getting ready to play the part, I zipped up my black cocktail dress. I heard a rap at my hallway bedroom door.

It was Scarlett. Her face was flushed. “Have a minute?”

“Of course, Scarlett. Come on in while I finish getting dressed. I’m running late and need to get my jewelry on.”

I headed to the closet and put on my loop earrings then reached for a simple gold chain for my neck.

Scarlett asked, “I need some advice.”

“Sure. Hope I can help.”

Have you ever regretted making a rash decision and then wished you could reverse it?”

My hand paused, as I stared at her through the full-sized mirror in the closet. I laughed. “That about sums up my life. But what are you referring to? Past? Present?”

She hesitated then said, “...Present.”

I wasn’t sure where this conversation was headed.

“Would you attach this clasp?” I asked, turning away.

She fumbled with it, snapped it closed, then stood waiting, adding nothing more.

I turned to face her. “And?” I slipped on heels, then headed toward the bathroom to apply some lipstick.

She followed me in. “I don’t think this is working out.”

I stopped mid-lip. “What’s not working?”

“It doesn’t look good.”

This woman was speaking on a different wavelength. I was having a difficult time following her conversation.

“Are you talking makeup? Hair? I don’t follow.”

“Relationships. Some men don’t understand...”

I laughed. “Oh, them. Relax. As long as you keep them guessing, it all works out in the end.”

“But what if you have a change of heart, aren’t sure.”

“Look, at some point you have to decide what’s best for you. It’s as simple as that. You can’t waste your time on someone who doesn’t have your best interests in mind.”

“You’re probably right...”

“Are we talking about anyone I know?” The minute I said that, I knew I shouldn’t have. She tensed and backed away from me a step.

“Look, I’ll let you finish getting ready. I should...”

I reached out for her hand. “Hey, it’s not important who it is. I didn’t mean to get personal. That’s your business.”

Scarlett blushed. “Having a brother and not a sister, I never had someone to confide in. During your interview, it was eye-opening about how you finally stood on your own, making your own decisions for a change which altered your future. Mine isn’t looking so good right now.”

Was she really talking relationships?

I glanced at my watch. She noticed and backed up again.

“I really should let you finish getting ready. It’s late.”

She was right. I was meeting Tony. “Tomorrow then?”

Scarlett hesitated. “Do you regret your past?”

What an odd question and a complicated one. But I stuck to what was best considering the time.

Keep it simple.

“I don’t dwell on the past, but focus on the now.”

Scarlett smiled then. “Good advice.” She then rubbed her forehead. “I have a headache coming on, but I’d really like to finish that interview. When do you have time?”

“I’m meeting Tony downtown. Go rest in your room. We’ll continue it tomorrow. You’ll feel better then, okay?”

“I’d like that.”

“Remember, you can’t change the past, only the future.”

“It’s all about choices, isn’t it?” she asked, walking out.

“It’s all about making the right choices.”

Chapter 43

Sidetracked

I checked my watch. Good. I was on track for meeting Tony downtown, but an incoming text drew my attention as I descended the stairs. I stopped to read it.

Bleak House’s cottage in 20. Come alone. Book title.

I knew all about the Bleak House and exactly where it was located from Alicia. She loved local history and had raved about the place and how it was being renovated then would be put up for sale. It also had a small cottage.

Help from anyone at this point worked for me, whether in person or in the form of a note. I paused. Would Tony’s mother bother to lure me to that isolated site to pop me? No. She was still looking for that book herself. So who?

I was to meet Tony in downtown New Hope for drinks to charm some info from him. Clay took the ladies for some pizza and would be standing by. Mona and Teddy left for an Italian dinner. Scarlett was resting. Lucas’ apartment was ablaze with light, as the smell of garlic drifted beneath his closed door and into the main house.

But I was torn about what to do after getting that text.

Should I delay meeting Tony and go to the cottage first?

Then I received my answer: another text.

‘Running late. How about we meet in an hour? Tony.’

If I hurried, I’d still make it for Tony. I texted back.

‘Perfect.’

Knowing my history with dicey situations in the past, I knew I needed to text Clay where I was going, but I wasn’t about to do that just yet. I’d wait until I got there and could assess the situation before yelling wolf too soon. But I had to hurry, I was now down to fifteen minutes to be there.

But who was waiting? No texting back: it was blocked.

Whoever it was wanted to remain anonymous. I grabbed my purse, jacket and keys to the Jeep and took off.

The old Bleak House’s cottage (c. 1850) was located on the same property as the late Dr. Bleak’s grander home, which was currently under renovation with scaffolding.

I pulled off the main road, staring through the massive trees near the construction site then to the old cottage. It was eerily silent except for a few security lights on in the back area of the main construction site. The small two-story cottage had a dim light on in its lower interior.

I made my turn into the gravel driveway, came to the fork in it, turned right toward the small cottage then eased to a stop. I didn’t like it. No other cars...

I assumed I was meeting someone. I guess I wasn’t. Whoever it was probably didn’t want to be identified and had left me a note instead so they could remain safely anonymous.

Hey, I was linear thinking here. It was possible, right?

I reached into the glove compartment for the flashlight and tucked my purse under the driver’s seat after removing my phone. I stared down at it. There was my pre-typed text ready to go to Clay, letting him know exactly where I was. I glanced up. It was shadowy and dark there, set way in from the road. Although apprehensive, but determined, I wasn’t stupid and hit send on my text then slowly got out...

Chapter 44

A Calculated Risk Gone Wrong

I glanced over at the larger home under renovation. It was flanked by a sizable moonlit pond that was backed by conservation land. It had a stone and stucco exterior. I heard they were expanding from the original, stately Bleak House located on this official arboretum. The hardwood floors were reclaimed chestnut and walnut. And the interior incorporated 300-year-old barn doors, and included the original stone walls and steel railings, with two newer wings at each end.

I then turned my attention to the deserted cottage Dr. Bleak was said to use as a clinic for his patients. It was a calculated risk, but I still kept walking on. The gravel crunched underfoot as I made my way via flashlight toward the front door. My bravado was slipping away with each footstep I took. I had to be nuts attempting this alone. But I didn’t want to scare them off if someone was possibly waiting. My determination to solve all this overrode any further hesitation on my part, so I kept moving.

I knocked three times, but heard nothing. I then tried the doorknob. Unlocked. I turned it, peeked inside, and called out. No response again. I glanced around noticing attempts over the years at modest upgrading, but in the dim light it felt dark and intimidating. I entered cautiously.

Were my nerves coloring its ominous appearance?

I walked by an imprinted tin panel on the kitchen wall, then through to a sitting room with fireplace and white-painted built-ins where Alicia had mentioned that Dr. Bleak’s medicines may have been stored and where he once saw his patients.

The rooms felt claustrophobic. Being dark outside didn’t help. I was about to go back to the kitchen when I noticed across the room a narrow doorway with a single step. I edged closer. It was a small landing. I peered in. To the left was a dimly lit narrow stairway leading upward. The treads were close-fitting and traveled up to ...where? Should I?

I carefully made my way to the top and peered over the railing. Two other rooms. Then across the small hallway was another very tiny narrow curved stairway going up to another small room. An attic room? I was about to step off the top step when I had second thoughts. I was letting my curiosity for this historic home distract me from the reason I was there: a possible note with the info downstairs.

I pivoted and made my way down the stairs, moving with caution. The treads were old and narrow to the foot. I was about to step off the last tread when I was shoved from behind. My right foot pivoted sideways and twisted hard off the step. I heard the crack of bone breaking. I crumpled, slamming into the wall directly in front of me and bounced back, dropping to the closed-in landing.

As much as I would normally have presence of mind to look and see who or what pushed me forward, when you are in excruciating pain and seeing stars, all that goes out the window. I rocked back and forth, my eyes squeezed shut, shouting in pain. Then I felt someone roughly brush by me. By the time I opened my eyes, it was too late. No one. All I heard was a door slam shut: the one I had used.

With my heart pounding and sweat now trickling from panic, I forced myself to look down to untangle my left leg and put it in front of me off the landing step. I tasted blood. I had bitten down on the inside of my mouth.

Boxed in, sitting on the tiny landing, I assessed my right ankle that I somehow managed to straighten out with my knee bent under my chin as I painfully set it down flat. I felt it. My right ankle bone was rapidly swelling in size.

I wasn’t chasing anyone out that front door.

The sight sickened me. “It’s got to be broken,” I cried.

A repetitive rocking motion restrained me from totally losing it. I had to remain calm, but the unbearable pain was indescribable. I stared up at the dimly-lit narrow staircase from the landing, incensed by the cruelty of someone.

“Are you happy now, you sick bastard?”

But I was yelling to no one. They were long gone.

Who pushed me? I was clearly set up and fell for it.

I tried standing, gripping the two walls on the narrow landing boxing me in, but fell back down. I wasn’t going anywhere in this condition. My right ankle was useless.

My cell phone!

I could call Clay, 911... I reached into my pocket.

Gone!

I scanned the room. My eyes honed in on it, well beyond my reach from where I collapsed. Nausea rippled through me in waves as I mentally tried to block the throbbing pain tearing through me. Then I stilled. An unmistakable sound.

My cell phone was ringing across from me, out of reach.

It rang then stopped then rang again...over and over.

That and the wrenching, unrelenting pain was too much.

“Help! Somebody, please help me!”

Chapter 45

The End & The Beginning

I heard a car door slam closed. Then the kitchen door opened. I held my breath.

Had they come back? Who was it? I was defenseless.

Then a familiar face appeared. My tears of relief spilled.

“Oh, my God, Sam!” cried Clay. “What happened?”

I tried to smile, but failed. “The stairs. I was pushed.”

He briefly took in my ankle I was supporting. “Damn.”

“My words exactly,” I said. “I feel sick and the pain...”

“It looks real bad, Sam.”

I grimaced then said, “It must be broken. I can’t use it at all. I can’t believe this time I broke my other ankle.”

Clay tilted my chin up. “Bear with me, okay, Sam?”

I don’t know how he did it, but in one swift, but gentle movement, I was up in his arms. He kissed my forehead.

“I feel dizzy...” My head then dropped to his shoulder.

“...Sam? Sam? We’re here.” It was Clay.

I squinted at an unfamiliar entrance. “...Where are we?”

“At Doylestown hospital. You passed out in my arms.”

Clay was standing at the opened car door. He eased me onto a wheelchair, and pushed me into the ER area, parked me, then spoke to a woman and returned.

A wave of fresh stark pain sliced through me. “...Clay.”

“You’re on deck. I’m parking the car. Be right back.”

I rocked to tolerate the pain while staring at my elevated and swollen ankle. I was oblivious to everyone else in the waiting room. The pain had total control over my thoughts and movements at this point. I needed the pain to stop.

Clay was back in minutes and knelt in front of me.

My tears trickled down. “Clay, I shouldn’t have gone...”

He took my jittery hands in his. “I’d be tempted too.”

A woman gestured for us to enter a small office. She asked what happened. I had presence of mind to lie, saying I slipped on a narrow 150 yr. old step. The rest I left unsaid. The less she knew about this the better. Clay and I both knew the ramifications of having to clarify the impossible.

She said she’d get the rest of my information later and called for a nurse to wheel me over to X-ray. Clay was allowed to accompany us. I was second in line, so the nurse left us by the wall to wait. Clay knelt in front of me to distract me with conversation. I heard nothing as my hands began to shake uncontrollably while I kept rocking.

He grabbed both hands firmly. “You’re in shock.”

I glanced up at his face. “What?” I asked trembling.

“Shock has set in. You’re system is on pain overload.”

I tried to smile, but my teeth began chattering.

Clay hung on tighter, whispering soothing words, but nothing registered. All I could do was stare down at our joined hands and rock back and forth. I couldn’t stop.

“What happened?” whispered Clay.

I looked up. “...It...it all happened in minutes.”

“Tell me while it’s still fresh in your mind.”

And so I did. By the time I was finished, a nurse was standing over us, asking to take me to x-ray. I stared at my hands which were no longer shaking in Clay’s calming ones. He had managed to distract me, while getting to the core of what happened, making my wait tolerable.

Next thing I knew I was brought to an ER room and another nurse. She said I was much better off staying in the wheelchair with my leg gently elevated on a pillow. It wasn’t necessary to cause more pain by moving me. I was deteriorating in the pain department, tapping my good foot.

A doctor appeared and drew Clay and me a diagram of my ankle and leg. The fibula on the right side had a clean break at the bottom vertically and on the left side, the tibia had a fracture angled horizontally up from my ankle for about six inches: like in a vein pattern.

He said the nurses would put on a temporary cast until I could see an orthopedic surgeon the next morning. He wasn’t sure whether I would need surgery or a permanent cast. He was emailing the x-rays onto the surgeon to study.

Two more nurses appeared. One gave me an injection for pain and nausea, while the other two prepared to put the temporary cast on me. They said to stay in the wheelchair. One gently took my leg and propped it up on the examining bed. She never let go and lightly held onto it, as the other nurse began wrapping it slowly, while I jerked and winced.

Clay stood right next to my wheelchair and firmly gripped my one hand the whole time, talking and joking to the nurses. His distractive banter helped as the shot slowly did its magic to dull my pain. I smiled for the first time that evening when Clay lifted my hand and softly kissed it.

It was after 11 p.m. on the clock when my eyes slowly drifted shut. “It’s over, Sam,” said Clay rubbing my hand.

“Not by a long shot.” Who set me up and shoved me?

Chapter 46

Fiberglass, Wheelchair & More

When they unwrapped my temporary cast to put on the permanent cast at the surgeon’s the next day, my right foot was half deep purple, like someone had drawn a vertical line up the center. I was asked what color I wanted for the fiberglass cast: yellow, pink, blue, red... Very apropos and matching my ugly mood, I chose black.

I was also drugged out, taking pain meds for two days to temper the acute discomfort I was in. My new best friends were a set of crutches and a black wheelchair. I was instructed by the surgeon not to put any weight on my casted leg and to keep it elevated most of the time. The five swollen toes peeking out made quite the fashion statement.

My fiberglass cast weighed a ton and constantly threw my balance off every time I moved. When you added in the pain factor of all the bruising I suffered to my ribs, leg, and ankle from the break and fall, I was a colorful mess.

My senior crew fussed over me like mother hens. Mona too. Teddy was probably used by his connected family. I doubted Tony or his momma confided in him their true intentions, Teddy being more interested in the money angle and his career. Teary-eyed Scarlett brought me tea, dying to finish our interview, but I was in no mood, so she didn’t push the matter further.

Luckily, the hallways were wide and Alicia’s office was spacious, accommodating my wheelchair nicely. I did have to keep my leg elevated while lying on the leather sofa in the family room quite a lot. But I’d be able to spend short painful times at my desk to write. I always knew it was time to lie down when my toes darkened a deeper purple.

“This bookcase is the last of them,” said Betty.

“Sure is disappointing we haven’t found it,” said Hazel.

“They probably found it first,” said Martha frowning.

The living room was the last room. Defeat loomed large as we checked and crosschecked books online. I was in the wheelchair with my leg raised, insisting on helping with my laptop for an hour. I needed a clear mind so I had switched to Advil four times a day.

“Clay left early this morning,” I said. “He was ripping mad. Tony hasn’t shown up, texted, or called since I was pushed. Clay is convinced Tony’s responsible.”

“Having him around was interesting,” mused Betty.

“To think we were focusing on his mother,” said Hazel.

“Maybe that’s who he’s out looking for,” said Martha.

“But if that’s the case, then he should call Clay,” I said.

Mona appeared in the doorway. “He’s gone.”

I nodded. “We already know Tony’s gone.”

“Not him, Teddy! His bags are missing,” she said.

“The family that keeps on giving,” muttered Martha.

“And taking,” I said.

Chapter 47

Giving Up & Packing Up

The sun had set. Scarlett went upstairs to pack since our interview was postponed. I tired easily and promised we’d continue it via phone when I was feeling better. Mona was packing up too. Since we never found the book, Teddy was still missing, Tony had vanished, and his mother never materialized, Mona would be chasing down leads to round them all up. It was a total bust. Nothing looked promising.

Martha replaced the last book. “That’s it.”

Betty turned to me. “I’m really disappointed.”

Hazel sat in the nearest chair. “I was sure it was here.”

We had worked hard, but never found that book.

“Looks like someone else found it first,” I said.

“No need for the thieves to hang around,” added Martha.

Betty agreed. “The art of confusion for sure.”

“Deception,” I said. “Look what this hand is doing, not the other one. We were concentrating on Tony’s mother, while Tony and possibly Teddy walked through here freely. Scarlett’s presence and that interview distracted us too.”

“This whole con and book theft was perfectly timed and executed,” said Martha.

“Those three sure fooled me,” griped Mona, walking in.

“Don’t feel bad. They fooled me too,” said Martha.

“From one pro to another, Martha, we did our best.”

Betty, Hazel and I were witnessing a rarity: Martha and Mona complimenting each other.

A ding caught our attention. Mona read her phone.

“I’ve got a lead. I’m taking my bags. Staying in Jersey for a day or two to see what I can round up. Later, guys.”

And after quick hugs, just like that, she was gone.

“Since Scarlett isn’t leaving until later and we all need to eat, how about I pick up takeout for dinner,” suggested Martha, smoothly changing topics to ease the situation.

“Great idea,” said Hazel. “Betty and I can help.”

Betty turned to me. “Do you want me to stay instead?”

I shook my head. “No, I’m fine. Scarlett is just upstairs and Lucas will be in shortly to bring in some firewood. It’s getting chilly out. I’m going into the great room to lay down on the sofa. I’ve got to elevate my foot. The fireplace in there should be crackling by the time you get back.”

“You have your cell phone?” asked Martha, eyeing me.

I held it up, smiling. “Right here.”

As they walked away, I could hear them arguing.

“Let’s go for sushi,” said Hazel.

“I don’t do raw,” scoffed Martha.

“We could do pizza,” suggested Betty.

“How about spaghetti Bolognese or...”

Whatever they brought would be tasty. I wheeled into the great room, looking around the shelves of leather-bound books for a few minutes feeling disheartened. All that work we’d done. And now Tony and Teddy were missing along with that book.

I wheeled up to the glass-topped curio coffee table we had passed so often and stopped. I couldn’t get by it with my wheelchair. I’d have to hop around it to get to the sofa. I stood up on my good leg, hopped a few times, but then my balance faltered when my foot hit uneven stone. I teetered... The fireplace!

Chapter 48

Stepping & Stumbling

Transitioning from the wooden floor to the uneven stone at the fireplace, I suddenly began to sway back and forth precariously. I desperately tried to balance myself. With no mantel to grab onto, I fell hard, my ribs striking the sharp wooden edge of the glass-topped curio coffee table then smacked into the stone facing of the fireplace.

I crashed to the floor in a heap.

I lay there a moment, catching my breath, gasping from the pain in my ribs and casted leg. My toes sticking out of it were bent backward in the fall and now they hurt like hell.

“Shit! What next?” I cried out, gasping for breath.

I’m sorry, but there’s only so much pain I can suck up.

I tried to assess the damage: not to the coffee table, but to my casted leg and swollen, purple toes.

Oh, the pain...

“If I was a horse, they’d shoot me right now.”

“Maybe I could arrange that,” said a voice behind me.

I turned my head and looked up.

My wheelchair was roughly shoved away. “Forget that.”

Though trapped between the fireplace and coffee table, I was more concerned with the gun that was aimed at me.

“Lucas,” I managed to choke out in shock.

Scarlett was packing upstairs...

“Don’t even think of calling out for help.”

Okay, so he had fooled me and was a mind reader too.

“Holding that gun, makes you the likely candidate for who pushed me the other night.”

“I grew tired of playing cat and mouse. It gave me more time to find that book the Worths’ kept talking about but never mentioned by name. After ten years of service here, I deserved that book, but then your crew found it first.”

He walked over to the oversized wing chair facing me and the fireplace, his back now to the great room doors.

What’s he doing, sitting down?

“We didn’t find it. What makes you think we did?”

“Because Scarlett’s packing, everyone else is gone, including Mona.”

Lucas smiled when I winced in pain.

Bastard.

“I swear,” I said, “we never found it. That’s the truth.”

“I’m in no rush. There are ways to get you talking.”

Voices arguing, echoed down the hall. We both turned.

“My leverage approaches,” laughed Lucas.

The ladies were back with takeout.

“Lucas, you wouldn’t do anything rash, would you?”

“Make like you’re looking at the curio items in the coffee table.”

He was hidden from view in that oversized wing chair.

“Promise me no shooting!” I pleaded.

“We’ll see. I make no promises.”

Martha then Betty and Hazel stopped cold after entering.

“Why’s your wheelchair over there?” asked Martha.

Before I could warn them they rushed to my side.

“Why are you on the floor?” asked Betty, reaching out.

“You look a little pale,” said Hazel leaning over me.

“I...”

Chapter 49

Company & More

Lucas cleared his throat. Startled, the trio turned.

“I see you have company,” said Martha, smoothly.

Hazel stared at his hand. “Ah, a thirty-eight special.”

“I thought your specialty was gardening,” said Betty.

“Not anymore,” said Lucas. “This is more lucrative.”

“And that’s because...?” asked Martha, acting confused.

Lucas waved his gun. “I want the book. Now, ladies.”

Martha tried to stall. “What book?”

He reddened. “Don’t take me for a simpleton!”

Martha turned back to me and winked, still stalling.

“I told you it’s the quiet ones you should watch.”

I wasn’t sure what she was up to, but played along.

“And all this time we thought it was Tony’s mother.”

Lucas looked confused. “What about his mother?”

“She escaped,” said Betty.

He hesitated before asking, “...From where?”

“A sanatorium,” added Hazel, grinning.

“So what does she have to do with the book?” he asked.

“You didn’t hear that part? ...She’s after it too,” I said.

“Then all you have to do is give it to me first,” he said.

“That’s easy for you to say, because we don’t have...”

Racing footsteps... Clay and Tony burst into the room.

“We found her!” shouted Tony, running over to us.

Seeing me on the floor, Clay moved in. “What hap...”

“All right gentlemen. Hands up,” interrupted Lucas.

Upset, Martha said, “Didn’t you see him sitting there?”

Clay turned to face Lucas, his hands raised. “No...”

“Now, what have we here?” asked an annoyed Tony.

Lucas pulled the hammer back. “Your guns please.”

“Okay,” said Clay easing over to block me from view.

This couldn’t get much worse. I briefly closed my eyes, leaning my elbows on the glass curio coffee table with my hands on my forehead. When I opened them, everyone had closed ranks to protect the invalid, me. I stared down at the encased items to think of a way out.

Something. Anything.

I’d always admired Alicia’s prized bookmark collection from Italy, France, Spain, etc., personal keepsakes, costume jewelry, old pearls, pill case, two pipes, a worn and chipped beach silver dollar crafted into an ornament, old glass magnifiers with ornate handles, letter openers, a pocket watch, wire-rim glasses, hand-painted stationary, a child’s small bracelet, a cracked child’s book, antique rings...

My eyes stopped on an embroidered cloth bookmark.

I gasped then looked up to see if anyone heard me. They were still arguing, stalling for time. I stared back down.

Could it be?

There was no way...

Chapter 50

Way & More

Disbelieving, I asked myself that same question again.

Could it be?

I had reread Alicia’s bizarre text she’d sent me so much that it was now committed to memory word for word:

When you reed the manuscript,

Make sure you have the right one, the other is lethal.

I trust you’ll get it write and no the difference in thyme.

I had racked my brain, but nothing had registered until now. I was staring down at one of the clues right in front of me: a cloth bookmark with embroidered stems and leaves of the herb thyme. On each side of it, partially obscured by bookmarks and two carved pipes were two very old books: one a book of poems by Bu... the other, Shakes...

I glanced up. Now hidden, I was forgotten by Lucas.

Should I try it?

I gently tugged at the knobs to the curio drawer. It gave.

I pulled harder, inching away my body then snuck my hand in, sliding the bookmarks and pipes aside. I strained to reach the first book: Burns. I lifted its cover to check the publication date through the glass top. I couldn’t. It was hollow. Inside was a gun. What the...?

I reached for the other: Shakespeare! I lifted its cover, still staring through the glass of the coffee table. First folio 1623, a collection of William Shakespeare’s 36 plays.

My breath caught as I stared at the rare book. Martha had read to us it sold for $6.1 million dollars in 2001. Was this it? Were two of them out there? No one considered the cluttered contents of this table. It was hidden in plain sight.

Now, this book was something to kill over!

I felt like I had been sitting on the floor for hours when in reality mere minutes ticked by while the others distracted Lucas, who was undoubtedly reveling in the fact he was now the center of attention. I caught the tail end of his last exchange.

“...While Alicia and Chris Worth gallivanted all over the world collecting this or that, I spent ten years breaking my back maintaining this place. So I threatened to leave if they didn’t give me a big raise. I deserved it.”

“Did you ever steal one of their books?” Hazel asked.

“I was tempted, but thought it wasn’t worth it.”

“What happened next?” asked Martha.

“When they refused to cough up a raise, I had no choice but to leave. They had called my bluff. Later on I thought it over. I always thought books weren’t all that valuable, but then recalled a previous conversation I’d overheard and dismissed. They’d mentioned a super-valuable one they had bought. I could get rich and get back at them by stealing it. Unfortunately they never mentioned the title, just its value. So I called them up a few weeks later. All I had to do was get back inside to find it. Of course, they took me back because...”

“No one knew their property like you did,” said Clay.

“Everyone thinks I’m not listening and am stupid. Other than gardening and automotive, I’m computer literate too.”

“As in hacking and wire-tapping?” said a familiar voice.

Mona! She must have snuck up behind him!

“Drop it, Lucas,” she ordered.

Lucas’s gun dropped to the floor with a thud.

An unexpected voice said, “I knew there’d be trouble.”

Hidden on the floor by a sea of legs that kept shifting as each one spoke, I caught glimpses of what was going on. I moved to see Scarlett had entered holding her own gun.

Scarlett was Lucas’s partner?

“I think you better drop that gun, Mona,” said Lucas.

Although Mona dropped her gun, she spoke forcefully.

“By the way, I caught up with Teddy. He was conned like us. Said he lied about Tony’s mother being his aunt who hired him. He made up her nickname. He also took advantage of Sam, assuming he was related to Tony and his mother. Teddy overheard us constantly referring to her as a nut and how everyone was looking for her and took it from there. We all fell for it.”

Mona then focused on Scarlett. “When Teddy saw you leave Lucas’s apartment he smelled trouble and got antsy. Then when Teddy caught you again the night you claimed you had a headache, he decided he had to leave. He’d seen enough. It could get dangerous.”

Lucas kicked Mona’s gun away. “That was stupid of you getting spotted, Scarlett.”

Scarlett swung her gun to Lucas. “Who’s stupid now?”

Something was wrong.

If they teamed in a scam to steal that valuable book, and the two of them manipulated us all, then why was her gun now trained directly on Lucas?

Chapter 51

Oh, Brother!

“Is that how you talk to me, Lucas, your own brother?”

Lucas was her brother?

Oh, don’t give me that Lucas crap, Rhett,” said Scarlett.

Her brother, who was Lucas, was really Rhett?

“Now hold on a minute,” protested Martha. “Did your momma really saddle you two with those names for real?”

“Do I look like I’m kidding?” asked Scarlett angrily.

“No, ma’am. I’ve learned to never challenge anyone holding a gun,” Martha replied, smiling and stepping a little further away.

“Good advice. You’ll live longer,” muttered Betty.

“Although with her mouth, I’m surprised Martha’s lived this long to quote anything,” quipped Hazel to Betty.

“Enough!” said Scarlett. “My beef is with Rhett.”

Everyone faced Lucas/Rhett.

I snatched a glance at Tony, whose fingers were flexing. He was itching for a gun! Concerned for the safety of my crew and yes, even wily Tony who might get killed, I had to do something. I opened the Burn’s book and grabbed the gun. It was a snub-nose Smith and Wesson thirty-eight caliber, alloy pistol, just light enough for me to maneuver.

I was now aiming for some poetic justice here.

I had to be prepared for anything. I quickly checked the cylinder for bullets: loaded. They were hollow-point to give the impact of a Western Union telegram. After slipping the gun under my leg, I eased the drawer closed. Now all I needed was the opportunity to stop all this madness. But before I could take any kind of action, Lucas stood and calmly reached down for his gun while Scarlett watched transfixed. Her hands began to shake nonstop.

Someone was going to get shot.

“You can’t do this to them, Rhett,” she cried.

“We went all over this. There’s no turning back now.”

“But I really like them all. They’ve done us no harm.”

What was he planning to do with us?

“This is a done deal.”

“I told you last night that I can’t go through with this,” Scarlett replied breathlessly, still gripping her gun.

“Don’t make me shoot you, Scarlett.”

She blanched. “You wouldn’t, would you?”

“You always were the weak one,” accused Rhett.

Then Scarlett surprised everyone by rushing her brother head on. There was a collective gasp as a shot rang out. Scarlett screamed then collapsed to the floor.

Lucas’s diverted attention was just what I needed.

It was now or never. I yelled, “Everybody duck! Now!”

And they did, just like I knew they would, leaving a bemused Lucas standing there like a lone fir in a desert. He began to swing the gun in my direction. I held steady and fired at him. He stood there befuddled then shocked as his gun dropped to the floor and blood began spreading across his right shoulder. Clay and Tony instantly dove, knocking Lucas to the floor.

Scarlett began moaning then grabbed her bloody arm.

I sighed in relief. She was only wounded.

Betty and Hazel, on all fours, gave a me a thumbs up.

Mona winked. “Nice shot.”

Martha quipped, “With a handicap too!”

I smiled, saying, “I needed to change the ending on this mystery before everything went south.”

But before anyone could speak further, a familiar figure, holding a gun, ran through the French doors. “Hands up, everybody!”

Tony turned from a now moaning Lucas beneath Clay and himself. “Mom? I thought we had you handcuffed to the car door!”

She cackled. “Piece of cake! Am I too late?”

You could have heard a pin drop as we stared at Tony’s armed and dangerously crazy mother waving her own gun.

Oh, this was priceless. Would I have to shoot her too?

“We’ve got the culprit,” said Tony calmly. “It was the gardener.”

She eyed Lucas struggling on the floor. “To think I got bent out of shape over some oil paintings. He did this over one stupid book?” she asked, lowering her gun to her side.

“One worth over $6 million dollars,” I said, now resting easy, once I realized Tony’s mother was on our side and maybe not as crazed for revenge as I previously thought.

Everyone turned to me open-mouthed.

“What did you just say?” asked Clay, holding onto the wounded but now struggling Lucas on the floor.

“You heard me,” I said. Then I turned to Betty and Hazel. “Call 911 for an ambulance for Lucas and Scarlett.”

Clay turned to Lucas who was moaning. “You’ll live.”

“Yeah, but you’ll never throw a baseball again,” added Martha with a satisfied smile.

Mona brought over my wheelchair and carefully helped me into it. “How did you get hold of that gun?” she asked.

“How’d you know that book’s value?” asked Martha.

“You never fail to astonish me,” said Betty grinning.

“I second that one,” added Hazel beaming proudly.

I pointed to the Shakespeare book. “Martha, remember reading all the high auction prices to us? It was right under our noses the whole time. Speaking of the word thyme...”

After finishing my summation of how I finally solved it, including discovering the hollowed out phony, lethal book, Tony walked over to me.

“I want an autographed copy of your book when it’s out to see how I come off in this one.”

Tony’s mother approached him now all excited.

“Does this mean I’ll be famous too, son?”

“Looks like it. Once we get you back to the rest home, all your new friends will want your autograph.”

She pouted. “Do I have to go back there?”

“Until your anger management courses are completed.”

“Will you watch my gun for me?” she said, raising it up.

Tony gingerly took it. “I’ll even lock it up this time.”

Clay grudgingly nodded to Tony. “Thanks for helping us out once again.”

“I thought we worked well together, don’t you?” Tony said grinning, but winked at me instead.

I gave him a wink back. “For a connected kind of guy, Tony, you’re okay in my book.”

Clay stepped in between us. “This one’s put to bed, pal.”

Tony just smiled. “Time will tell. Time will tell.”

I love double entendre and happy endings, don’t you?

I’m so glad I survived ‘the lush life.’ Until next time...

This ends The Lush Life

For a preview of the next book in the Samantha Jamison Mystery Series, Book 9, Too Close For Comfort, please continue reading right after this:

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Please read on for the preview excerpt of my next book in the Samantha Jamison Mystery Series, Book 9, Too Close For Comfort

Too Close For Comfort

A Samantha Jamison Mystery

Book 9

by

Peggy A. Edelheit

Copyright © 2015 by Peggy A. Edelheit

Chapter 1

Too Close For Comfort

“Ouch!” he protested, flinching in discomfort.

“That was a warning,” I said. “Touch me again and...”

“It’s this cold cement floor we’re sitting on,” he griped.

I was furious. My red silk dress was probably ruined.

“Man up,” I said. “Have you heard me complaining?”

“Being such a hot broad, how would you understand?”

“Keep your compliments and hands to yourself,” I said.

He sighed. “I was just trying to shift my position.”

“Uh, huh. Right. Like I really believe that.”

“Can’t blame me for trying to keep my hands warm.”

“They were traveling where they shouldn’t. Watch it.”

“Now is not the time for you to be so touchy,” he said.

“Or you, feely,” I countered, losing my patience.

“Any guess on the time?” he asked. “Feels like hours.”

“With it being pitch black here and no windows? No!”

“My throat is getting scratchy too,” he grumbled.

“After all your hollering and yelling, I’m not surprised.”

He exhaled loudly. “I need a good stiff drink.”

“You aren’t going to start that again, are you?”

“Hey, you did your fair share of hollering too.”

I frowned. “Yeah, and no one heard either one of us.”

“Wherever we are, it must be somewhere remote.”

“Pray tell. Why do you think that, oh wise one?”

He chuckled. “Your screams could’ve roused the dead.”

“Look who’s talking?” I shot back, elbowing him hard.

“Hey! What’s with you? That hurt!”

“Wandering hands again,” I hissed. “I warned you.”

“Are you always this moody or is it a moon phase?”

“You are so lucky my hormones aren’t in play.”

“None of this is my fault,” he stated emphatically.

Our bodies were tied back to back, ankles taped in front, wrists taped behind us, and we were anchored to the floor.

I was fuming. “I was perfectly positioned, but then you go and sneak right up behind me, yell my name, and draw attention to me. Amateurish at best. This is all your fault!”

“What about the guy behind you?” he asked. “I guess I was supposed to ignore he was about to chloroform you?”

“There was someone behind me?” I asked, surprised.

“One about to pounce, cloth in hand, I might add. What I didn’t expect was someone right behind me. That ether-like sweet odor...everything went black, then I’m here.”

“Oh,” I said, digesting this latest news. “I didn’t know.”

“Do I detect an apology somewhere in that sentence?”

I blew strands of hair off my face. “Ha! You wish.”

“There’s a lot of things a fella can wish for, such as...”

I cut Tony off. “Don’t hold your breath, buddy.”

He laughed. “That’s what I love about you, Samantha.”

“And what’s that?” I asked, expecting more acerbic wit.

“We have this love/hate thing going on between us.”

I laughed at his compliment/jab. “In your dreams.”

He laughed too. “Kind of a ‘fatal attraction’ thing.”

Thirtyish, dark, handsome, and well over six-foot, Tony was similar to my very personal undercover PI: private investigator, Clay, but in Tony’s case, in a dangerous way. Tony was dressed ‘to the nines,’ as Martha, another of our sleuthing cohorts says, always wearing his signature, flashy Hugo Boss suits, Ferragamo shoes, and Louis Vuitton ties.

I yelled, “Hey! I swear, if you touch me again...”

He snickered. “Just checking if you’re still there.”

I lapsed into silence, thinking.

...Maybe I should just kill him off in my next book.

Then I heard loud sniffing.

What was he up to now?

“I think my cologne is wearing off,” he grumbled.

I sighed. “What is it called, ‘Eau de Drive Her Crazy’?”

He laughed again. “Admit it. It does, doesn’t it?”

I pinched him hard.

“Ouch! Not only am I cold, but I’m being abused too!”

“I warned you...”

Then he moaned loudly.

I blew out a breath. Here...we...go...again.

“Now what?” I asked, sighing once more.

“I’m getting a headache,” he complained testily.

I shut my eyes, speaking low. “If I only had a gun...”

“I need aspirin and a stiff drink to chase it down.”

My nerves were already frayed and my temper was now running short. I was about to blow big time.

“Don’t start, Tony, or I swear, I’ll...”

He cut me right off midsentence. “Man, you are wound up tighter than a...”

“Always with the last word. Be quiet!” I said testily.

...Ah, silence.

...A damn chuckle.

...No.

“I just love feisty women. Why, I remember...”

Being a connected, armed and dangerous kind of guy, putting Tony on our payroll was supposed to be a semi-trial run after he helped us out with my last mystery, The Lush Life. Now, he was proving to be quite a handful. Literally.

So I’m asking myself, what in hell was I thinking?

Chapter 2

We’ve Got Personality, Personality...

Let me explain some history.

I’m Samantha, an author, whose blonde, tousled hair, apparently from being chloroformed and abducted, was trying to wiggle free from a very hands-on Tony. Being on the thin side, the cold cement floor was affecting me, too, but I refused to give him the satisfaction of playing ‘the helpless female’ role. I’ve been through much worse.

It seems I fall into the most unusual mysteries that have made me semi-famous for solving then writing about them. I first met my crew, Clay, Martha, Hazel and Betty, when I got involved in my first mystery concerning my husband, Stephen and his suspicious death. With their help I finally solved it. Since then we ended up being a close-knit team.

Now, Tony was another matter completely. He popped up two mysteries ago and latched onto us by helping solve my last one, The Lush Life. He was connected with links I didn’t rest easy associating with, but when someone helps save my life, I develop a soft spot for them.

Even bad-boy Tony.

If I recalled correctly, hiring Tony began when my senior sleuthing trio, Martha, Hazel and Betty, approached me about Tony’s assets and why he’d be a perfect addition to our crime-solving team. I think his hunky, good looks may have played a tipping hand in their assessment. No discrimination there. According to those three, a man was a man, regardless of age.

Being in their seventies, my older friends have proven their remarkable skills. Martha has cropped, spikey white hair, is thin, and sports a very flashy in-your-face nature. She challenges me every step of the way. Hazel is short and on the plump side with curly gray hair, while Betty is reed thin, taller and wears her hair tightly pulled back in a bun. Those last two are lady-like, librarian types, but willing to take risks, while still maintaining their polar-opposite status to their long-time brash and colorful friend, Martha.

All three are a constant worry and ever-challenging, but compliment our sleuthing team. I have to admit their mental acuity is never hampered by their age. I swear, sometimes I can hardly keep up with them.

Trust me, a few of their antics even shocked me.

Tony on the other hand, is a slippery con that proved his skills could be useful in the past, but there’s often reserved skepticism on my part. He’s a ‘Jersey guy’ with attitude, knows what he wants and goes for it in a not-so-scrupulous fashion. Always armed and usually dangerous, Tony can be trusted on occasion to our advantage.

My chiseled and hunky Clay is my personal undercover PI. Our semi-permanent relationship left us both wondering how we’ve lasted so long with our two personalities butting heads on occasion, okay, on many occasions. It’s always surprising when we finally manage to be in the same place at the same time.

But when we do, those sparks do fly...

We were all a mix of personalities, but complimented each other with varied skills: some legal, some not so legal.

Hey, solving mysteries has fuzzy edges.

One must be willing to stretch them now and then. It’s the end result that mattered. And as long as no jail time is involved, it worked for me and the rest of us.

What didn’t work for me was being hogtied to someone who had dreams of overstepping Clay in the romance-Samantha department. Although I’m quite flattered, it ruffles feathers on Clay’s end. But I’ve convinced myself I can handle both of these fine-looking characters, while solving cases with our multi-talented and diversely-skilled team.

Sometimes I have to overlook their missteps for the greater good of solving a particular mystery. I’ve become proficient at balancing Clay’s numerous disappearances and Tony’s numerous advances. So there was nothing to worry about. And for the thousandth time, I’m asking myself another often-repeated question.

Who was I kidding?

Chapter 3

Déjà vu All Over Again, Mystery Wise

It all began when I started my physical therapy sessions locally in New Hope. Boredom is a dangerous thing for me to latch onto. When you’re used to being busy, after five weeks of being confined to a wheelchair due to my fall in my last mystery, rehab looked good, my ticket to recovery.

After the whole crutch program of having to learn to walk again, the doctor then ordered physical therapy, where I was put through exercises I swear had me considering a real murder of my own. But like the therapist said, “These exercises will hurt, but you must work through the pain.”

I told him he seemed to be enjoying putting me through those painful workouts way too much and maybe that’s why he chose this profession. Okay, so maybe I exaggerate, not about my therapist’s dedication, that was genuine, but about him enjoying my pain. But after several weeks of agonizing stretches and exercises, I was finally able to wear sneakers and move about quite well. I had to admit my therapist knew what he was talking about. No pain, no gain.

Eventually, you can’t help but notice your neighbors on the other therapy tables. They began talking to me briefly and waving hello and goodbye. All of us were a wide assortment of shoulder, knee, ankle, and hip injuries, even joint replacements, many of which were sports-related.

I was in therapy from snooping alone where I shouldn’t have on my last mystery, sneaking up one-hundred-fifty-year-old stairs then being pushed hard while descending, fracturing and breaking my right ankle. My sleuthing injury was quite a novelty to all the other patients in rehab.

I don’t think they considered sleuthing a sport.

I described the mug given to me sitting on my desk:

‘Watch what you say. You may end up in my next novel.’

I got mixed reviews and stares on that one too.

And as usual, my ego came into play after an unfamiliar rehab patient whispered, “With your sleuthing skills in writing mysteries, you’re just the person I need to talk to.”

Of course my ears perked up at being recognized and a potential case falling onto my exercise table, so to speak, recalling my mantra...well, actually, one of many.

‘Always expect the unexpected.’

So while still pacing through my exercise routine and not missing a beat, I whispered back to her, “Why don’t we meet for coffee and you can tell me all about it, okay?”

Later at Duck Soup, a local bistro, I watched as Marilyn silently stirred sugar in her coffee mug. Thirtyish, like me, she had short brown hair with several freckles sprinkled across her petite nose, complimenting her fair complexion. Overall, she had well-proportioned features. Not exactly beautiful, but pretty. As she glanced up at me, the worry lines edging her eyes deepened. Instead of speaking, I waited. Most people were uncomfortable with stretches of silence.

They usually felt a need to fill the void. So I waited.

“I know you must be busy writing, but I think that fate has played a hand in bringing us together here,” she said.

I tried to get a bead on her, but was disappointed in my feelings one way or the other. I wasn’t getting the slightest inkling on my part regarding dishonesty at her end, but then again, she hadn’t said much yet, had she? And as usual, I was jumping the gun again, always guessing intent.

She nervously swiped at a wisp of hair that had fallen in her eyes. “I’ve read and loved all of your mysteries and figured you’re the perfect person to help me.”

Although flattered, that didn’t clarify why she was there.

What was she proposing?

Then she fell silent once again, so I took the lead.

“Did you hear any details about my injury?” I asked.

“No, just that you hurt your ankle on some steps.”

So I briefly described falling down those old steps while trying to solve my eighth mystery.

“Mine involved steps, too, but my injury resulted in a bad sprain, not a broken ankle like yours.”

“I’ve heard a sprain is sometimes more painful then a break, but not in my case,” I said. “I’ve taken my fair share of pain pills from my break and fracture.”

Then she whispered, “If I screw this up, I might not get another chance. I refuse to give up. I’m committed.”

“And I’m not going back to my wheelchair,” I added.

“Sounds like we’re both determined to see this through.”

I found myself saying, “Did you know I was pushed?”

“What a coincidence,” she said to my surprise. “So was I!”

“I found out the painful way,” I added. “Someone had an agenda: stealing a pricey antique book worth millions. I was a nuisance, stepping in their path to get it first.”

“I had no idea your mysteries could get so dangerous.”

As I’d hoped, she looked reassured and relaxed.

Good, hopefully, we made a connection of trust.

I felt being direct was the best route to take with her, so I plunged ahead, trying to get more information as to why she sought me out. Marilyn sounded like she might need help, but was hesitant to elaborate, which in itself was intriguing. I had to keep her talking.

“Do you mind me asking, who pushed you?”

Chapter 4

Blindsided

Marilyn anxiously glanced around the small bistro.

Was she fearful someone might overhear her?

“Although pushed, I didn’t actually see who. They were behind me and caught me by surprise like you and...and...”

“And you were busy falling and hurting to glance back to pay attention as to who was pushing you, right?” I asked.

All I got in return was a silent stare.

Why the hesitation? She had approached me. I kept talking.

“I went through the same scenario myself. When you’re seeing stars and in excruciating pain, you don’t have the presence of mind for details. You shut down, praying the pain away. It takes over your whole thought process. I totally get where you’re coming from.”

“...That’s right,” she finally said, nodding in agreement.

I had to ask. “Who do you think might’ve pushed you?”

Her eyes honed in on something beyond me. Or was it a someone? “...Oh!” she said, startled.

Why was she acting so edgy?

I turned to look, curious as to what caught her eye.

She was staring out a window, but no one was standing there or walking by outside the just-filled parking lot.

I felt her grab my arm, and quickly turned back to her.

She whispered, “I need your help, the sooner the better.”

I found myself whispering back. “For what?”

“I need you to find out about someone for me. A man.”

I needed more than that.

Was it a boyfriend? Fiancé? Husband?

“Why?” I asked.

“I need to make sure of something first.”

Not satisfied with that, I added another, “Why?”

She waved that one off. “Not important right now.”

Figuring she’d give me the specifics later, I grabbed my phone to take down his name and description.

“His name?” I asked.

“He goes by the name of Tony G.”

My fingers froze in place.

Now, what were the odds? My Tony G? No way!

“...Does this Tony G. have a last name?” I asked warily.

Folding her arms and leaning back, she said, “I know this sounds made up, and it probably is, but he said it was Giuseppe. Tony Giuseppe.”

There was an uncomfortable gap of silence, mine.

“It’s just like the name of that pizza place,” she said.

Exactly like the name of the pizza place.

I looked down at my coffee. I needed something much stronger. I’m still shocked by the unexpected. And this certainly qualified.

Marilyn’s eyes briefly darted about then she slipped her hand inside her purse, dug out her phone, and glanced at it.

I hadn’t heard anything. Had someone just texted her?

A slight tremor in her hand drew my attention.

This was a small bistro. I spotted several other patients from rehab. They all seemed friendly enough and looked quite harmless, as they waved to me in recognition then returned to their coffee and conversations. But Marilyn’s distracted and anxious behavior was unsettling.

“Got a description?” I asked, wanting to be absolutely sure we were talking about the same person, Tony.

She glanced away briefly then sighed. A trace of a smile curved her lips upward. I knew that familiar swoon from all the females who met Tony G.

“Good-looking, well over six-foot, muscular, dark hair scraping the collar of his designer shirts and suits. Plus his Ferrigamo shoes and those stylish Louis Vuitton ties...”

Should I reveal I knew exactly who he was?

I didn’t think so. I don’t know why, but instinct told me to keep quiet. I was having second thoughts on this whole pitch of hers. Why had she really approached me with this off-the-wall story involving Tony?

Was Tony capable of pushing her? Possible, but still...

Was this woman legitimate or was she setting me up? Crazy, I know, but that’s the way my cynical mind worked. It strayed off the charts of normal thinking. I have learned in the past, that nothing, and I mean nothing, surprised me when it came to a con.

So I constantly second-guessed what people said, weighed their words guardedly, while doubt hovered on the periphery. Was I dealing with a con setup? Something felt off. Was this whole thing legitimate?

One way to find out. Go to the source, Tony G. himself.

Chapter 5

Setting Up The Backdrop

Since my sleuthing crew and I were still in New Hope because of my ongoing rehab at the local clinic, Clay had taken on a new case. And so with his overseas plane ticket in hand, he passionately kissed me goodbye days earlier, leaving me weak-kneed and breathless, saying he’d be back in no time. And like many times before, I wasn’t holding my breath until then. He’d show up when he showed up. That was our arrangement.

Martha, Betty, and Hazel had gone to catch a murder mystery play, no surprise there, at the Town & Country Players, an old, local barn theatre. It wasn’t far from where we were residing: a smaller home near where we stayed during my last two mysteries in New Hope.

New Hope, Pennsylvania was an hour and fifteen minutes from New York City, an hour from Philadelphia, two hours from the Pocono mountains, and an hour-and-a-half from the Jersey shore. We were staying in the center spoke of a wheel of entertainment.

We had plenty of diversions, for which there seemed never enough time.

With sleuthing, a lack of entertainment is never an issue.

Since the Worths: Alicia and her husband, Chris, returned from Europe, taking possession once again of their lux stone French house we inhabited while solving our last two mysteries, we reluctantly left. Our latest abode? A short-term lease. (Tony’s arrangement) Though it had less square footage, it worked just fine for us. Tony was bedded down at his place in his connected hometown in New Jersey. (my arrangement) Thus I had no worries with his testosterone and me falling for a pass from him while Clay was gone working undercover on another case.

So when I made plans to meet Tony, it was in Peddler’s Village in Lahaska, a touristy, quaint shopping village, a several minute drive away. We stood in the shade of an old oak tree, sipping coffee out of Styrofoam cups in the busy main courtyard. Even though I semi-quasi trusted Tony, I chose a public venue for our meet-up over this Marilyn woman and her claims.

I eyed him doubtfully. “What do you mean she’s lying?”

Marilyn had described Tony perfectly.

Tony eyed me back. “Just what I said. She’s lying!”

With Tony there could be several interpretations of his version of the truth. One: Her name wasn’t Marilyn, but the incident happened. Two: He knew Marilyn, but didn’t push her down the stairs. Three: Both were untrue, she made up the whole damn thing. He always fudged the facts.

I’m sure there were more scenarios, but you get the idea.

I felt like I was arguing with Clay once again, playing mental leapfrog with someone manipulating the English language so the real truth was hard to decipher.

I know this explanation doesn’t make much sense, but that is my reality when dealing with Clay and Tony. Both are experts at stretching and twisting facts when they don’t want me to know what’s really going on. Sometimes I was lucky enough to wrestle half-truths out of them.

Frankly, it was a constant mental challenge I relished.

“Why do I get the feeling you’re stalling?” I asked.

He winked. “So you’ll get jealous?”

I figured if I stomped my foot, which I felt like doing, I’d seem petulant, which, on occasion, I tend to be. Instead, I stayed silent, which completely threw Tony off his flirting game. Then I detected a nervous tick in his right eye and the pulsating jugular vein in his neck.

I merely smiled, enjoying that.

He leaned in and whispered, “Sam, you are so sexy.”

I bit back a retort, kept smiling, and remained silent.

He got closer. “If I wanted, I could kiss you right now.”

“Not worth it. I’m too close to the family jewels.”

He leaned back, sighing. “...Okay, I kind of know her.”

“Good. Now we’re getting somewhere.”

“And you want to know...what?” he asked innocently.

I felt like I should create a twelve-step program to deal with Tony and Clay. They both pushed my gray matter to the limit, while I contemplated how I’d ever survive their constant evasive techniques.

Usually men are easy targets to read. With them, it’s all about sex: how to get some, talk about, compete against, and race for. If they only knew we women already had their number in that area. And of course, let’s not forget sports, another topic I could rant about on occasion too.

But on this particular occasion, something felt off.

Chapter 6

Parsing Words

“Exactly how do you know this young woman, Marilyn, and what significance does the story she handed me have to do with the actual facts,” I countered. “And don’t you dare ask me, what facts, okay?”

Tony grinned, then smugly proclaimed, “...I guess you’d call her a wannabe.”

I paused, not expecting that reply. “...A wannabe?”

“You heard me.”

“A wannabe what?” I asked, confused.

“I think she’s been hanging around ever since we solved your last mystery together, when you included my name in your book and I began to notice...”

I choked out, “We solved? Where’s your broken ankle?”

“Must I remind you,” he said, “that my mother is out of sight and out of circulation, all with my help. Dealing and chasing my mother down was...”

I grudgingly cut him off. “Touché. I guess pain can be multi-relevant when is comes to your crazy mother.”

“I’d take offense at that, but I happen to agree,” he said.

She was safely back in that sanatorium, being treated for anger issues.

But I was still confused by Tony’s explanation. “Keep it simple, okay? I’m not getting what you’re saying.”

“That woman, Marilyn, has been dogging me lately.”

Then I got it. “You mean she’s a groupie of yours?”

“Whatever... she’s become a pain in the ass.”

“Sounds like a rabid fan of yours is hassling you.”

He nodded. “Everywhere I turn... Any suggestions?”

“Well, obviously, you knocking her down a set of stairs didn’t work,” I said, looking for a telltale response.

“I swear, I didn’t do that. I was preoccupied elsewhere.”

I arched my brow. “Doing what?”

His face colored as he smiled. “Kind of following you.”

I felt myself getting hot under the collar. “Where?”

“To your physical therapy sessions.”

“So how long was she following you, following me?”

“Until I saw her at your therapy sessions herself.”

“Oh, that explains so much,” I said, rolling my eyes.

“Maybe she threw herself down the stairs,” he countered with not a twitch of deceit that I could detect.

Was he telling me the truth?

“Why were you following me? Are you my groupie?”

He threw his head back and laughed. “Your groupie?”

Almost insulted by his reaction, I asked, “And what’s so funny about that?”

“For your own personal information, I do not, I repeat, do not, chase women. They all chase me.”

This time I broke out laughing. “What an ego!”

He frowned slightly. “...Okay, you’re the one exception. You usually ignore me.”

“You’re lucky I never killed you off, on paper that is.”

Tony came within a hair’s breath of my lips. “Never.”

I swallowed then loosened my neck scarf reflexively.

Was it hot outside or what? Maybe it was the coffee...

He leaned closer, making further talking impossible.

“Well, isn’t this interesting? What have we here?” asked a very familiar voice.

My breath caught.

Tony and I turned to look.

Caught red-handed and now red-faced.

Damn...

Chapter 7

Spotting, Discussing & Pushing

Of all the places...

“Uh, what are you three doing here?” I asked Martha, Hazel, and Betty, who kept eyeing me and then Tony.

“The play ended earlier than we expected. We were looking for a portable hotplate at the kitchen store. Seems like you found your own,” said Martha with a devilish wink at me.

“...I...I can explain,” I said guiltily, like someone caught with their hand in the cookie jar. I glanced over at Tony, who I had to admit was one hot-looking cookie jar.

“This is not what you think,” said Tony, defensively.

Both Tony and I were familiar with how prickly Clay became when Tony invaded the Samantha-zone. Although Clay didn’t own me, the jealousy factor usually came into play where Tony was concerned. So there was no reason to add fuel to the fire with more speculation by these three.

Which brings me to another one of my mottos.

Keep them guessing. So I did. Both Tony and Clay.

The ever-proper Hazel tsked in snickering disapproval.

Betty waved her hand. “None of our business anyway.”

“Yeah,” smirked Martha. “I was just surprised you two chose busy Peddler’s Village for a meeting of the minds.”

“It’s about a client,” I said brightly, trying to change the subject.

“Real peculiar,” agreed Tony. “Could pose a problem.”

“A wannabe groupie of his,” I added, smirking at Tony.

The three knew Tony well. He loved to boast how, as my old-school senior trio referred to females: the skirts, always chased him. My indifference toward him had Tony stumped and bothered him. Apparently, that attracted him to me even more.

I’d now become his pet seduction project.

By the time Tony and I explained what happened, they were intrigued by Marilyn’s odd tale regarding Tony.

Martha appeared doubtful. “Did she seem believable?”

Hazel turned to Martha. “Why would she lie?”

“Are you sure she’s a groupie of Tony’s?” posed Betty.

No one said a word for a full minute, considering that.

“That’s so off-the-charts it makes sense,” said Martha.

“Ergo, that means she’s interested in Samantha,” said Tony, looking directly at me.

There was silence once again as the rest turned to me.

I squirmed, thinking of the complications of what their stares were implying, regarding Marilyn: unpredictable.

“You think it’s possible, that she’s a fanatical fan of mine?” I asked, laughing at the absurdity of that possibility.

My cell phone rang. Startled, I looked down. “Oh!”

It was Clay.

I raised my hand to the others for silence.

As I stepped away to talk, I said, “Hi, how’s it going?”

“Maybe I should be asking you,” said Clay evenly.

I glanced around, like Clay had been privy to that close encounter in the courtyard with Tony and me.

“Excuse me?” I said uncertainly.

“You did get my email, didn’t you?” he asked.

I quickly flipped to my emails on my phone, skimming quickly. Was it possible I hadn’t heard the incoming ding? That’s when I spotted Clay’s email and briefly scanned it.

“...Oh, yeah, I remember. Hit me again with the facts.”

This was always a contentious issue between us: I only checked my emails occasionally. Why didn’t Clay text me instead? He expects me to be available to him, even though he is not available to me. Regardless, I probably should have checked and read my emails sooner, an unfortunate blunder on my part.

“She’s investigating insurance fraud, works undercover, needs extra help. Asked for you, who are perfect for this.”

“How so?”

“She said you’re already in rehab. So it must be related to that. It’s a natural you handle this. She’ll approach you.”

“Got it. But I’ll need something more to go on to get a handle on this whole thing beforehand. What is the name of the insurance company? Exactly what is her full name? In other words, I need more detail than what you gave me, Clay. You know how we work. It’s all in the details.”

There was a pause in his response to my queries. Why?

“...Listen. I was racing through the terminal to get to security in time to catch my flight when she called on my cell. It was a lousy connection to begin with, then with the loud speakers in the terminal announcing the different arriving and departing flights, I honestly couldn’t make out half of what she was saying. I’m sorry. Being an insurance company backing her that pays well, you know the financial aspect will be worthwhile for us.”

This was business as usual and wouldn’t be easy.

“It’s unfortunate you didn’t catch all her information, but it’s nothing I can’t handle,” I said confidently.

“She’ll act interested in your mysteries and what you do without raising suspicion with outsiders. Just let it play out on her terms, okay? You can get the rest of the facts when she contacts you today or in the next few days.”

“So where will...” I stilled as I realized who the she was.

Uh-oh... Marilyn was the undercover investigator?

And I had raised suspicion about her with three of the biggest blabbermouths, including a very gossipy Tony.

But none of what happened so far made any sense.

Was she suspicious of Tony because he was tailing me?

“Oh, and Sam, she’s cagey and must be super paranoid about something regarding this case because I tried to ID the call she made to me so I could pass it on to you.”

“And?” I asked, intrigued.

“It was a string of similar numbers and untraceable.”

That explained her reluctance to give me more info.

“She sounds worse than me,” I said, now understanding.

“I’m sorry, but I’m confident you can pull this off.”

I had to cut this short before Clay sensed a major screw-up at my end. He knew me. Last thing I needed was to jeopardize business offered to us by other investigators. So before Clay discovered I had complicated matters on this job from the start, I said confidentially, “No problem. I’ve got it covered at this end.”

Besides, I still had a rep to protect: minor screw-ups.

Clay hesitated. “...Good. You almost had me concerned something might have gone wrong at your end too.”

“Ha! Never.”

“Look, Sam, I’m counting on you to pull this off. I’m going dark: no communication. Are you okay with that for a while? I know you always understand...”

I sighed. I understood, but that didn’t mean I liked it. I kept it light by saying, “If I need your help, I’ll have my people text your people, okay?”

Hearing my response, he laughed, like I knew he would.

After hanging up, I spun around to face the others.

“Now I get it!” I said enthusiastically and with more self-confidence now that I had more of the backstory of what was going on.

Other Books by Peggy A. Edelheit

The Samantha Jamison Mystery Series

The Puzzle Book 1

Without Any Warning Book 2

86 Avenue du Goulet Book 3

A Lethal Time Book 4

Mouth of the Rat Book 5

Death Knell in the Alps Book 6

No Hope In New Hope Book 7

Too Close For Comfort Book 9

Memoir: The Riviera is Burning

Visit my website: http://samanthajamison.com

About The Author

Peggy A Edelheit has three sons, lives with her husband & miniature Schnauzer & spends time between Bucks County, PA and South Florida.

Visit the author’s website: http://www.SamanthaJamison.com

or

Twitter: @SamanthaJamison

I am so grateful to all my readers for all your wonderful

feedback and support. Thank you, Peggy