Murder Blog Mysteries Boxed Collection

by Pamela Frost Dennis

  After a quick makeup check in the rearview mirror, I began to back out of the driveway. Looking both ways for oncoming traffic, I spotted Josh sitting on his porch with my sister. They were laughing and appeared to be thoroughly enjoying each other’s company.

  Preoccupied, I narrowly missed crashing into a U-Haul van parked across the street from my driveway. As I passed Josh’s house, they waved and I merrily waved back like I didn’t have a care in the world—except that my rotten sister was getting cozy with my Viking. When I swung around the corner, I pulled over to ponder this new development.

  He’s way too old for my sister. He’s also way too good for my sister. What if they start dating? Or are they already? And then, what if she doesn’t come home one night, and I know she’s next door having crazy hot sex with my Viking? That should be me—not her! I want some crazy hot sex. How dare she? I hate her so much.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  BETTER DEAD THAN WED

  TUESDAY • JULY 16

  Posted by Katy McKenna

  A little after seven this morning, I sat snarly-haired and makeup-free on my porch swing, savoring a hot mug of French Roast, camouflaged from view by the trumpet vine draped along the eaves.

  Daisy lay unconscious at my feet, and Tabitha was perched on the railing chattering at a pesky blue jay. Across the street, a ragtag crew was unloading the big U-Haul I’d almost slammed into yesterday. An eclectic array of shabby-not-chic furniture sat on the cracked and weedy driveway.

  I hadn’t lived in the neighborhood when the former owners had vacated due to a foreclosure over a year ago. There’s a broken front window, the dehydrated yard gave up and died months ago, and the paint is peeling. It looks like a spooky crack house. Really great for our neighborhood property values. With hope, the new owners will spruce it up.

  I spent most of the day working on the Clunker job, breaking in the late afternoon to make a granny catch-up call—with an ulterior motive.

  “Hey, Ruby. How’s the new job going?”

  “Great,” she snickered.

  “And your boss? How’s he adjusting to you?”

  She snickered again. “Oh, he’s great too. Hold on.” She told Paul to say hi to me, so I figured she was at the office.

  “Hi, Katy. Wazup?” said Paul.

  Okay. That was weird. Then a woman’s voice asked if he wanted another Long Island iced tea.

  “I’ll take another one too,” said Ruby, then came back on the phone. “Paul joined our poker group here at Shady Acres, and the girls just love him.”

  Paul hollered, “Ladies? I’m goin’ to the can. Don’t touch my cards.”

  Ruby continued. “We need to lower the stakes before the poor guy goes broke. Anyhoo, what’s up with you?”

  “Have you talked to Emily lately? I never see her, so I thought maybe she’s been hanging out with you. I know how much she loves her favorite granny.” What I wanted to say was, Wouldn’t it be fun if Emily moved in with you?

  “Well, of course I’m her favorite. Kurt’s mother is the most negative, miserable woman on earth, so no competition there. Hold on, honey. Cindy’s pestering me.”

  Her friend said, “I just want to know if you’re still in the game.”

  “I’m still in, but we have to wait for Paul to get back. So, Katy—is Emily stirrin’ up trouble for you? You want me to have a little chitchat with her? I can always threaten to take away her inheritance.”

  She must be drunk. “What inheritance? I’m getting your shoes, remember.”

  “I’ve been really raking it in with the poker. I’m playing online now, too. Even thinking of going pro. You know, hit the local card rooms, and then when I’m ready—Las Vegas baby! Maybe take a road trip with the gals. Vegas will never know what hit it. You should come too. You can see at night, so you could be the designated driver. Woo-hoo!”

  The Shady Acres poker gals all woo-hooed, too. Three in the afternoon and they were snockered. “How many have you had, Grandmother?”

  “Sweetie pie, it’s not like I’m driving anywhere, so relax.”

  “And what does your boyfriend think about your poker career?”

  “Well, Mother. Ben doesn’t need to know everything about me.” She belched. “Gotta keep some of the mystery going, don’t ya know.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  BETTER DEAD THAN WED

  THURSDAY • JULY 18

  Posted by Katy McKenna

  This morning, I was feeling neighborly, so I decided that after I completed the Clunker job, I would bake something sweet for my new neighbors. I have a sugar cream pie recipe that is to die for, so I thought my new friends would love it. Unless they’re diabetics.

  After e-mailing the Clunker files to the printer, I closed up shop and commuted through my dandelion-infested lawn to the kitchen for the pie-making session.

  Then I remembered I’d turned the house into a sugar-free zone when I’d decided to be a health nut. What a dumb idea that had been. And then I got a brilliant idea. I would go next door and borrow sugar from Josh. While there, maybe I could find out if there’s something going on between him and Emily.

  I slapped on another coat of mascara and changed into an upscale version of my daily uniform of comfy jeans, tank top, and flats: silky tank top, chandelier earrings, and stiletto sandals.

  Before going, I leashed Daisy for the visit. I figured that when Josh opened the door, she’d barge right in with me in tow, and I’d finally get to see the inside of his house.

  I knocked on his front door, holding a plastic measuring cup and a plastic bag, while Daisy sat next to me, barely able to contain her joy at seeing her boyfriend. A minute later footsteps approached and Daisy’s tail thumped the wood porch in rhythm with my heartbeat.

  The door opened (cue up the celestial music here) and there stood Josh in all his Viking glory. “Hey, Katy. I was working out in the back. Hope you didn’t have to wait too long.” He looked a little sweaty. Suddenly I was feeling a tad dampish myself.

  I swallowed hard, trying not to hyperventilate. I hadn’t beheld his brilliance up close since my visit with Ruby to his office. And then I’d been slightly distracted by his fancy coffeemaker. Does that make me fickle?

  I wondered if he had one at home, too. Maybe he’d make me another macchiato and we could curl up on his couch in front of the fireplace, sipping our steamy beverages while gazing deep into each other’s eyes, and listening to cool jazz while the heat from the crackling fire warmed our naked skin…

  I mentally slapped myself back to reality. “Hi.” I thrust my cup at him. “I need some sugar.”

  He grinned devilishly. “Who doesn’t?”

  “I meant…” I swallowed my drool. “May I borrow a cup of sugar? I’m going to bake a sugar cream pie for the new neighbors and I’m all out.”

  Daisy lost patience with our exchange, stood on her hind legs, and threw her arms around Josh’s neck, smacking a wet one on his lips. He stumbled back against the doorjamb and embraced her. “Whoa, girl. Nice to see you too.”

  Done with Josh, Daisy dragged me into the house and headed straight for the kitchen, where I discovered my turquoise cardigan hanging over a chair.

  Josh caught up with us, chuckling at our mad dash. “I guess I better give Daisy a treat, or she’ll never kiss me again.”

  At the word “treat,” her butt dropped to the tile floor and she held out her paw to be shaken.

  “I don’t have any doggy treats,” he said as he opened the refrigerator, “but how about a little piece of cheese?” She was totally on board with that. He turned to me. “Is that okay, Momma?”

  I gulped. “Sure, fine with me. Go for it. Yup.” Shut up, Momma!

  He opened a pack of sliced cheddar, broke off a piece, and slipped it into her mouth. “Here you go, sweetheart.” He shook her paw, rubbed her neck, and glanced my way. “You want some cheese too?”

  I snapped my gaping mouth shut. What is it about this guy? Everything.

 
“I’ll get that sugar for you, Katy.” He saw me eyeing the sweater. “Your sister left that here yesterday. She must’ve forgotten about it when things got a little steamy in here.” He took the measuring cup. “Did she tell you what happened?”

  I yanked my sweater off the back of the chair, strangling it into a chokehold. “No. Haven’t seen her lately.”

  “Well, I’ll leave that story for her to tell.” He scooped sugar into the plastic bag from a glass canister on the counter. “I wish I could offer you a cup of coffee.” He waved his hand toward a sleek, black Nespresso machine sitting on the counter. “I know how much you enjoyed your macchiato in my office, but I was just about to grab a shower and go out. I have a date with a very special lady.” Wink, wink.

  Oh my God. Was the jerk already cheating on my baby sister?

  Josh glanced at his wristwatch. “Gotta get a move on.” He guided Daisy and me to the front door. “When you give Emily her sweater, tell her we’ll have to do it again. Real soon. Tell her it’ll be way better next time.”

  I shambled down the sidewalk toward my house, oblivious to my surroundings, dragging a reluctant Daisy. Halfway there, she halted, staring across the street.

  Three guys were sprawled on a tattered sofa, swilling beers. “Sweet Home Alabama” screamed from a giant boom box on the rickety porch steps. A ripped dude wearing a sweat-stained trucker hat hovered over a rusty oil-drum grill, brandishing a skewered foot-long at me with a big goofy grin made goofier by a missing front tooth.

  The neighborhood property values just took another dip.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  BETTER DEAD THAN WED

  MONDAY • JULY 22

  Posted by Katy McKenna

  Friday, July 19

  After a very late night, thanks to my new neighbors’ endless replays of “Sweet Home Alabama” and a sugar-high from the pie that never made it across the street, I was not a happy camper when my alarm blasted me into the world on Friday morning. I wanted to pitch it against the wall and go back to sleep, but Daisy and Tabitha had other plans. Like getting up.

  I resisted their pestering and tugged the covers to my chin, trying to recall why I’d set the clock for the ungodly hour of seven thirty and then it dawned on me: last night, after my third piece of sugar cream pie, I’d promised myself to go to the beginner Zumba class at Forever Fit.

  As the class sambaed and mamboed back and forth, spinning, dipping, lunging, and leaping in a perfectly choreographed rhythm that could have won them a spot on America’s Got Talent, I stumble-bumbled along about three steps behind, huffing and puffing and slamming into the elderly women on both sides of me. How could I be the only one in the beginner class who didn’t know the steps? What are the odds?

  As soon as there was a water break, I eased myself out of the room and wheezed my way to the bistro for a healthy brunch. Three bites into a luscious asparagus and mushroom omelet, the other chair at my table for two slid out and Chad-the-Cad plopped down.

  “Only a sexy girl like you, Katy, could pull off those baggy gray sweats, although I’d rather be the one pulling them off.” He picked up the spoon by my plate and helped himself to a hefty bite of omelet. That was one of the many infuriating habits of his that drove me bonkers when we were married. “Why haven’t you returned my calls or texts or e-mails?”

  “Chad. You’re married. Remember?”

  “To the wrong woman.”

  “Your choice. For what it’s worth, I happen to like Heather, and I don’t want to see you hurt her like you hurt me. Actually, this would be far worse because I wasn’t pregnant with three of your kids.”

  “How do I even know they’re mine?” He sipped my water. “I mean if she was willing to screw around with me while I was a happily married man, who knows?”

  I was dumbfounded. Chad had just hit an all-time low. Again. “Maybe she wouldn’t have if you’d bothered to tell her you were married.” I shook my head in disgust. “Why am I even talking to you? I am so thankful you left me for her. Saved me the trouble of leaving you. You’re her problem now.”

  “You know you don’t really mean that.” He leaned in with his spoon for another bite and I smacked his hand away with a vision of nailing it to the table with my fork.

  “Ooo. Feisty. Me likey.”

  Gag.

  “Katy, Katy, Katy. When’re you going to give up and give in to your heart? Last time I saw you, I said I would win you back. You know I always get what I want.”

  There was a time when I thought Chad was drop-dead gorgeous, and maybe he still is in the eyes of a lover, but now all I see are his glaring imperfections. Thinning hair, expanding waistline, a few zits, and crooked nose. Not to mention he’s a total sleazeball.

  “I just hope you get what you deserve.” I scanned the lobby, searching for someone to save me, and as luck would have it, there was no one. I pushed back my chair, picking up my plate.

  He laid a pudgy paw on my arm. “Where are you going, baby? We’re not done talking.” His eyes X-rayed my boobs. “Remember how good the sex was?”

  I jerked my arm away and caught the eye of the waitress and pointed at my food. Chad may have killed my appetite, but I wasn’t leaving it behind for the vulture.

  “Do you need a box?” She scurried over with one.

  “Yes, and my bill, please.”

  “Put it on my account,” said Chad-the-Big-Shot.

  “Fine by me.” I dumped the omelet in the box, snatched my purse off the back of the chair and beelined for the exit.

  When I was clear of the club entrance doors, I chucked the food into a trash bin and ran to my car. My hand shook as I jammed the key in the ignition. No more Forever Fit for me. Chad had ruined that, too.

  Private

  After my run-in with Chad, I was in no mood to deal with Emily’s everything’s-all-about-me attitude when I got home. As usual, she was sprawled on the couch in her ratty flannel robe watching one of her “research” shows.

  I snatched the remote out of her hand, clicked off Ghost Hunters, shoved her legs out of the way and flopped on the couch. “I need to be alone.”

  “God, what is your problem?” said zombie-sister.

  “Like I just said. I need to be alone.” Daisy bounded into the room and leaped into my lap. “It’s okay, baby. Momma’s home.” I wiped off the dust bunnies she’d collected on her head while hiding under my bed from Emily.

  Emily stood with hands on hips. “So where am I supposed to go?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe your boyfriend’s house?”

  Her eyes bulged with pissy teenage attitude. “What boyfriend?”

  “Josh.”

  “Josh? The guy next door? Why would you say that?”

  “Oh, please. Spare me.” And then the dam burst. “I… I… can’t…”

  Emily sat down and drew me into her arms. “God, Katy. What’s wrong?”

  I wept against her shoulder like a baby while my little sister rocked me, murmuring motherly platitudes. When I could coherently string my words together, I told her what had happened at the club and how Chad had been practically stalking me these past few months.

  “Katy, I wouldn’t call that practically stalking you. He is stalking you. God, he is such a slimy scumbag. Even worse than I thought. After everything he’s done to hurt you, how can he even begin to think you would ever take him back? God, how I hate that bastard.” Her voice turned icy. “I really hate him, Katy.”

  I looked at her, thinking that seemed a little over the top, especially since she’d moved to San Diego before Chad had gotten cancer and the marriage fell apart. “Wow. I had no idea you felt like that.”

  She dropped her gaze. “There’s something I’ve never told you. About Chad.”

  I really did not want to ask. “What?”

  “You know when I moved away?”

  “Yeah.” I tried not to smirk. “Your rapper career wasn’t going well, and you said you didn’t want to live in this bourgeois town anymore.�
��

  “Okay, I admit that was all pretty ridiculous. But it wasn’t why I left.” She stared at the silver bangle on her wrist, slowly rotating it. “Remember when you and Samantha went on that spa weekend up in Big Sur?”

  “Of course. But what does that have to do with Chad?”

  “Well…”

  “Please, Emily. Just say it.”

  “He called and asked me to come over and help him hang a painting. Said he wanted to surprise you when you got home.”

  “Go on.”

  “When I got to your house, he was really cool. Asked about my future plans. Like a big brother, you know. Anyway, we visited for a while, and then he showed me the painting and told me he wanted to hang it in the bedroom so it would be the last thing you saw when you went to bed and the first thing you’d see when you woke up in the morning. I thought that was so romantic. So we went into the bedroom.”

  I clamped a hand over my mouth, hoping that where my thoughts were going was not where she was going.

  “When we got into the bedroom, the only wall that didn’t already have art on it was over the bed, so he asked me to stand on the bed and hold up the painting, while he looked at it from across the room. He kept telling me to move it up, move it down, move it over. Then he said, ‘Let me help you,’ and he got on the bed behind me and reached around me and… and… I am so sorry, Katy.”

  “Oh God. You had sex with him? Oh my God, Emily!”

  “No! God no. I would never do that. You have to believe me. No.”

  “Then what?”