“Does it hurt?” Sandra asked, motioning to Deena’s foot when she returned to the counter.
“Not much, but I’m on pain killers. How about you? Any morning sickness?”
“A little. The doctor gave me something that’s supposed to help.” She rubbed her stomach.
The front door jingled, and they both looked up. The girl looked familiar, but Deena couldn’t quite place her. She wore a t-shirt and jeans. Her dark hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and she wasn’t wearing makeup.
Sandra gasped as the girl got closer. “Natasha!”
The girl lowered her head as she reached the counter. “Actually, it’s Tonya.”
No one spoke for a moment. Sandra looked practically paralyzed.
Deena broke the awkward silence. “What do you want?”
Tonya clasped her hands in front of her on the counter. “I...I wanted to apologize.” She looked up at Sandra. “You trusted me, and I lied to you. I lied to everyone.”
“I know.” The tone of Sandra’s voice made it clear she was not in a forgiving mood.
Tonya looked to be on the verge of tears. “I’m so stupid. I wish I could blame Roscoe—my boyfriend—but I was just as responsible. And you...you had so much faith in me. I wish I could pay you back, but Roscoe took all the money.”
Sandra’s expression softened. She reached over and squeezed Tonya’s hand. “Don’t worry about it. Just learn from it, okay?”
Tonya nodded.
“What are your plans now?” Deena asked.
“I’m headed down to Mexico. My uncle has agreed to help me try to find my stepbrother. It’s a long story.”
“Do you need money?” Sandra took a step toward the cash register.
“No, no. You’ve done enough.” Tonya smiled sweetly.
She was much prettier without all that heavy makeup. Deena also noticed a twinge of a Southern accent.
The investigator side of Deena couldn’t help but speak up. “Can you tell us how y’all pulled it off? How you made those predictions come true?”
Tonya’s face reddened and she shuffled her feet. “Roscoe did those things. He would slip stuff in people’s handbags, slash their tires, even go to their houses and...it’s so embarrassing.”
Sandra shook her head. “Do you know if he ever came here and banged on the outside wall of my storeroom?”
“Probably.”
“I knew it wasn’t a rat,” she said, eyeing Deena.
Deena crossed her arms. “Oh it was a rat all right—just the two-legged kind.”
Sandra turned back to Tonya. “What about the Coleman boy? How did you find him? Roscoe didn’t take him and—”
“Heavens no! That’s the strangest part of this. I got this really strong taste of candy in my mouth. I don’t know where it came from, but it was real. I promise.” Her eyes implored Sandra to believe her. “Another thing that was real was when I said you have a lot of spirits around you. Don’t ask me how I know. It’s just this feeling I have when I look at you.”
Sandra shivered. “What do you see now?”
Deena started to interrupt. The last thing Sandra needed was more talk of ghosts and ghouls.
“I know this doesn’t make sense,” Tonya said, “but when I look at you I keep seeing a girl. A little girl. It may just be my imagination.”
The front door opened, and a man stuck his head in. “Tonya, it’s time.”
“That’s my uncle. I better get going.”
Sandra walked around the counter and gave Tonya a hug. “Take care of yourself. You know where I am if you need anything. I hope you find what you’re looking for.”
“Thanks.” Tonya turned and hurried out the door.
Deena stared after her. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
“Uh-huh.” Sandra touched her stomach and smiled.
The woman who had been in the dressing room brought several items up to the counter. “I’m going to get these.”
Sandra snapped out of her trance and began ringing up the clothes.
“By the way,” the woman said, “when I was in the dressing room, I kept hearing a weird knocking sound.”
Sandra’s mouth dropped open as she swung around to stare straight at Deena.
Deena laughed and shook her head. “I think I just came up with a suggestion for Mayor Thornhill’s slogan contest.” She waved her arms. “Maycroft: Don’t get too cozy!”
THE END
AUTHOR’S NOTE: This was a fun book to write. I found Tonya to be an interesting character. I was happy she dumped Roscoe.
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Want to continue to continue reading the series? Check out Sharpe Turn: Murder by the Book, book 4.
SHE WANTS TO WRITE A MYSTERY.
INSTEAD SHE’S EMBROILED IN ONE.
When a famous author agrees to teach a writing course at the library, amateur sleuth Deena Sharpe eagerly signs up. But on the second day of class, the author’s wife dies in a car crash, and the police suspect foul play. Is it a hoax to teach his students about plotting a murder mystery? Not likely.
Deena dives into the investigation when a friend is accused of the crime. With her brother’s help, she must clear their friend’s name and stay out of trouble with the town’s newest detective. As if that weren’t enough, it’s her husband’s birthday and her pushy mother-in-law is coming to town. What’s a Southern gal to do?
Sharpe Turn is Book 4 in the Cozy Suburbs Mysteries. If you like a savvy sleuth and a twisty plot, this clean whodunit may be your new favorite mystery series. Get your copy today!
Works By Lisa B. Thomas
COZY SUBURBS MYSTERIES
Sharpe Shooter: Skeleton in the Closet
Sharpe Edge: Stranger on the Stairs
Sharpe Mind: Hanging by a Thread
Sharpe Turn: Murder by the Book
Sharpe Point: Needle in a Haystack
Sharpe Cookie: Two Sides to Every Coin
Sharpe Note: Sour Grapes of Wrath
Sharpe Image: Danger in the Darkroom (Prequel Novella)
* * *
KILLER SHOTS MYSTERIES
Negative Exposure
Freeze Frame
Imperfect Picture
BEACHSIDE BOOKS MAGICAL COZY MYSTERIES
Pasta, Pirates and Poison (February 2019)
Apples, Actors and Axes (April 2019)
Visit my website at www.lisabthomas.com for the most up-to-date book list.
Acknowledgements
Thanks to my friends and family who were patient with me while I wrote this book during NaNoWriMo, which is National Novel Writing Month. It was a killer!
A special thank you to my beta readers: Lindsey, Sarah, Robin, Marla, and Lia. Your feedback was invaluable. Thanks also to Susan at coverkicks.com for the beautiful design.
Most of all, love and thanks to my husband for making it possible to pursue my dreams.
Sharpe Mind, Hanging by a Thread Page 18