Mint Chip & Murder

by Erin Huss

  P.S. Still a little bitter about that.

  P.P.S. Fine, a lot bitter.

  The news didn't even pick up the McMills and Larissa story. Not even a three-second blip on a local station. Absolutely nothing! News of a senator who had been caught cheating, and a production company that had been caught stealing, and a tax increase, dominated the headlines. Also, there was the big cast reveal of the Zankla movie coming out next year. Everyone was talking about the seemingly unknown actress who had been cast as the lead: Amy Montgomery.

  I was so proud. She'd put her wish into the Universe, and the Universe delivered.

  The Universe must not have received my wish.

  I went outside to check on the landscaping and make sure there wasn't any trash on the lawn. Everything looked good, except for the goat eating the grass. "You've got to be kidding me!"

  The goat looked up and screamed. I knew that scream, and I knew that goat.

  "Fox!" I called out. "Fox! Where are you?" I plucked the little brown goat off the ground and shoved her under my arm. "Fox!" He'd moved out last month and taken his two goats with him. He had claimed the reason he had to leave was because of the stress living there had caused him. Which could have been true, but I'd also given him a notice to vacate. So there was that.

  "There you are." Fox approached with the little white goat trotting beside him on a leash. "Cambria, what are you doing here?"

  "I also manage this building."

  Fox looked around. "It's nice. Do you have any one bedrooms available?"

  "This is a no pet property as well."

  "The no pet rule is inhumane."

  I tried not to roll my eyes but was only partially successful. "What are you doing here?"

  "I am going next door. I'm now a certified goat yoga instructor."

  "They offer yoga classes for their residents?"

  "Yes, the manager there heads it up."

  The new manager's name was Karan. She'd come over to introduce herself when she started. She was about my age, had a thin face, blonde hair always smoothed into a stylish bun, and a mega-watt smile with teeth so white it almost hurt my eyes. I wanted to like her, but there was something prohibiting me. It was probably the way she kept saying, "Isn't your place so quaint."

  Anyway.

  "Karan does the classes with us," Fox said. "Said it's part of her job."

  Part of her job?

  Oh!

  My mind flashed back to my conversations with Mrs. Dashwood. Are you comfortable with heat, or should we do smaller sizes? She must have been talking about yoga! It's no wonder Mr. Dashwood didn't think any manager would agree.

  As far as I was concerned: bullet dodged.

  OK, that wasn't true. I'd let a goat climb on my back if it meant job security and vision. I really had my heart set on vision.

  I said good-bye to Fox and the goats, grabbed a discarded Coke can out of the bush, and went inside to wait for Patrick. He arrived at 1:45 p.m., exactly two hours after our scheduled meeting time. Even if he had stayed on, he'd mentally checked out.

  "Front looks good." He sat on the couch and placed his briefcase on the coffee table. "Did I show you the motor home we bought?"

  "Yes, a few times," I said, sliding into the seat beside him.

  "Has four pop outs, and three televisions."

  "So I've heard."

  "And we bought a Jeep." He swiped on his phone's screen and showed me a picture of a bright red off-roading Jeep. Patrick and his wife had decided to sell their home and travel across the country. Not a bad retirement plan.

  "We still have the one vacancy?" he asked, trying really hard to care.

  "We're full here, and we have the one at Burbank. Fox's old apartment. I know I've brought this up before, but I really think it would benefit us greatly if we added window air conditioners to the units. With no laundry and no parking available, we need at least one extra amenity to make it worth the rent."

  "Go ahead."

  I wasn't sure I'd heard him right. "Go ahead and get them?"

  "Might as well do it now. Better to ask forgiveness than permission."

  Wow. I really liked retired Patrick.

  "I've been thinking, Cambria." Patrick sat back and crossed one leg over the other. "Should Kevin inherit all this"—he made a sweeping gesture to the room—"he's going to need an excellent management company to prohibit him from going bankrupt and destroying everything his parents built. Someone he trusts. Someone he listens to. Someone who is knowledgeable and dependable."

  "I absolutely agree."

  "I think that someone is you."

  "You think I should have a management company?"

  "I'll be happy to get you started. I'm not going to lie—it's a soul-sucking business, and I've hated every second. But you seem to enjoy it. Imagine all the dead bodies you'll find."

  "Fox. Found. Larissa." Honestly. I was about ready to tattoo this on my forehead.

  "Did they ever confirm it was Larissa?"

  "Yes, they did. Chase had to tell her aunt. She took the news hard, but she was happy to have answers. She and Kevin plan to meet soon."

  "Hopefully he'll get one sane relative out of this mess."

  My thoughts exactly. "If you're being serious about helping me form a management company, I will absolutely take you up on the offer. But what about insurance and housing and…everything?"

  "If you can secure the McMillses properties, that's enough right there to line your pockets, pay for your own house, and your own insurance."

  Holy hell.

  Thank you, Universe.

  "I'm pretty sure Kevin would hire my management company," I said. "And Tom could help me with legal stuff."

  "You're resilient, Cambria. I think you'd be great. There's just the matter of stability."

  "What do you mean?"

  "If you created your own company here in Los Angeles, it's not going to be easy to up and move should you need to."

  Oh. That. He was talking about Chase. After he finished his training, he could be assigned anywhere. That was certainly something to think about.

  …

  …

  …

  OK.

  That's enough thinking.

  "I want to do it," I said. "I'm tired of living in limbo. I want to work for myself and build something worth passing down to my daughter."

  "Then talk to Kevin, and I will absolutely help you."

  By the time our meeting was over, I'd already created my company name: Clyne Property Management—because I'm creative like that.

  I didn't want to get ahead of myself. My entire business plan revolved around Kevin inheriting his parents' property portfolio, and him agreeing to hire me.

  But Clyne Property Management had a nice ring to it.

  Later that night, I sat on my couch in a silent room watching the clock. Kevin should have been there any minute. The season premiere of If Only was on, and we wanted to watch it live.

  I'd spent hours typing up a business plan for Clyne Property Management. Then I'd sent it off to Staples to be bound and spiraled, and I had it sitting on my lap, ready to present.

  There was a knock on the door, and I took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, and clutched my business proposal. You've got this, Cambria. I crossed the room and swung open the door.

  "Tom? What are you doing here?" He had on his suit and tie, and Lilly was asleep in his arms.

  "I have a client who needs me right now. Third time arrested this month."

  "Here. Let me have her." I set my proposal on the TV stand and took Lilly from his arms. She transferred without waking, and I carried her to her room. She rolled into bed without so much as a word, and I tiptoed out, leaving the door opened a crack, turned off the lights, and went back to the living room.

  "What is this?" Tom asked, my business proposal in hand. "Clyne Property Management?"

  "Patrick said I should start my own management company."

  "Do you think you should start your own
management company?" He flipped through the pages. "When did you do all this? There's like seventy pages here."

  "I wanted to be thorough. And I did it this afternoon." I'd found a business proposal outline online and followed it almost exactly. Mostly. I may have expanded a few sections because I'm an over-explainer. It's what I do.

  "This is a great idea, Cambria." Tom handed me back the proposal. "I'm proud of you."

  "Thank you. I'm excited."

  "What does Chase think?"

  "I haven't told him yet. We were supposed to talk today, but he has a big test tomorrow. I'll tell him when there's something worth telling. There are a few things that need to fall into place first. Speaking of proposals. Hold on." I hurried down the hall and grabbed Tom's ring out of my suitcase.

  Note to self: Unpack already. It's been two months.

  Tom was shaking his head as soon as I walked into the room. "I don't want it back."

  "You could return it to the store." I held the box out.

  "No. I gave it to you."

  "Yes, and I told you no. A few times, actually."

  "Cambria, I meant every word I said. I'm not taking that ring back."

  "So I'm just supposed to keep it forever? Tom, that's ridiculous."

  "You never know what the future holds."

  No, I didn't. I was confident that my future didn't involve adding Dryer to my last name. I mean, I was pretty confident.

  Oh, hell.

  Tom was staring down at me with his hazel eyes and his flirty side-smirk, and my stomach went haywire. "Time to go." I pushed him towards the door. "Good luck with your criminal. Tell him to stop breaking the law."

  "I'm going to wear you down, Cam. You know it."

  "No, you're not." I thrust the little box into his hands and closed the door.

  Honestly, that man was infuriating. I hated that he had that effect on me.

  There was another knock on the door. I checked the peephole to make sure it wasn't Tom. Oh good, Kevin! You are dependable, hard-working, smart, business savvy, and capable, I chanted to myself as I opened the door.

  "Hello, Kevin. Please enter." I swept my hand out like I was welcoming royalty.

  Kevin hesitated. "What is wrong with you?"

  "Nothing at all. I'm grand."

  Kevin stepped inside and checked over his shoulder. "Why is your apartment so clean?"

  "Because I'm organized and efficient."

  "What happened? Wait…did you get knocked up?"

  "What? No. Why would you think that?"

  "I don't know. Your gut looks bigger, and you're acting strange."

  I sucked in my gut and closed the door. "I am not knocked up. Thank you very much. But I do have a proposal for you."

  "I already married you once. Not doing it again." He plopped down on the couch. "Where's the ice cream?"

  Oh, right. I hurried to the kitchen and grabbed the pecan praline from the freezer— Kevin's favorite flavor—and scooped us each a helping. "Here you go." I handed him the bowl.

  "What's that tucked under your arm?"

  "Oh, this?" I held out the proposal. "I've had a crazy idea. Of course, it'll depend on what the probate court says—"

  "Everything is mine." Kevin sat back with his ice cream, as if it were no big deal. "Found out this morning. There's some inheritance tax crap, trust crap, and a whole bunch of legal crap. But it's all mine. Now, sit down so we can start."

  "Kevin, that's wonderful. Congratulations."

  "Yeah, yeah." He grabbed the remote and turned on the television.

  "Before we start, I want to talk about my management company."

  "When did you start a management company?"

  "I haven't yet. But I want to, and I want you to hire me. It's all in here." I held up my proposal.

  Kevin snatched it from my grasp, looked at the cover, and tossed it to the other side of the couch. "You're hired. Stop talking, and let's watch."

  "You don't even want to read it?"

  "Nope." He shoved a spoonful of ice cream into his mouth and patted the spot next to him. "Sit, Clyne."

  I lowered to the couch with my bowl of ice cream in my hands. "You sure you'll hire me?"

  Kevin rolled his eyes. "I already told you yes. You're one of two people I trust in the world."

  "Who is the other one?"

  "Your kid. She's a straight shooter. I can appreciate that." Kevin stuck out his hand. "It's a deal, Clyne."

  I slipped my hand into his and smiled. "Deal."

  We shook on it then settled down to watch our favorite show. It was hard to concentrate on what was happening. My mind was too busy going over how I could make Clyne Property Management a reality. What a thrill it would be to be my own boss. What a thrill it would be to have an office and a house that didn't share walls and a 401K and employees. Instead of being a property manager, I'd have property managers working for me. I'd have hundreds and hundreds of residents to…deal…with…which would be a lot. But not soul-crushing.

  Right?

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  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Erin Huss is a blogger and best selling author. She can change a diaper in fifteen seconds flat, is a master overanalyzer, has a gift for making any social situation awkward and yet, somehow, she still has friends. Erin shares hilarious property management horror stories at The Apartment Manager's Blog and her own daily horror stories at erinhuss.com. She currently resides in Southern California with her husband and five children, where she complains daily about the cost of living but will never do anything about it.

  To learn more about Erin, visit her online at: https://erinhuss.com/

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  BOOKS BY ERIN HUSS

  Cambria Clyne Mysteries:

  Strawberry Swirl & Suspicion (short story in the Pushing Up Daisies collection)

  French Vanilla & Felonies

  Rocky Road & Revenge

  Double Fudge & Danger

  Mint Chip & Murder

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