Murder Blog Mysteries Boxed Collection

by Pamela Frost Dennis

  “Maybe he owes money to a loan shark,” said Chris. “They don’t like it when they don’t get their money. A few years ago, my cousin’s house was burned down when he couldn’t make his payments. And then his dog was poisoned. A cute little beagle. Who does that?”

  “This is starting to sound like an Agatha Christie novel,” Chloe said. “Maybe we should be a murder-mystery club.”

  “Ooo. Good idea, honey bunny.” Justin sat up straight, clearly excited by the idea. “We could be amateur sleuths and solve crimes and—”

  Chloe rolled her eyes. “I was just kidding, you big knucklehead.”

  “I knew that.” He slumped back in his chair.

  I actually liked the idea, thinking it would be way more fun than talking about Jane Austen, but kept my mouth shut. And yes I know, we never talk about her, or her books.

  “Anybody know how Debra is doing?” asked Sam.

  “I saw her at the hospital a couple of days ago, and she looked absolutely awful,” I said.

  Nora leaned in, dropping her voice. “You all know she’s my closest friend and in the past we’ve always shared everything, but I think she’s keeping a big secret. I’m terribly worried about her.”

  “Does she have any family?” asked Melanie.

  “She has an elderly aunt in Florida, but she has Alzheimer’s now and has no clue who Debra is. Bloody awful disease.”

  “I agree with you, Nora, about Debra,” said Sam. “Whatever is going on with her has got to be a lot more serious than just perimenopause and allergies. The weight loss, the constant cough. It could be any number of things. But she’s a doctor, so I have to assume she knows what she’s doing.”

  “This is off the subject,” I said, “but since you all know about my uncle, I want to read a letter he sent to my mother. And then I want your opinion on the response letter I wrote.” I held out my wineglass and Chris refilled it. I swallowed a swig, then read my uncle’s letter.

  When I finished, Chris said, “What a bunch of bullshit.”

  “Your poor mother.” Justin reached for Chloe’s hand. “I do not want to get into this, but I had a funny uncle too.”

  We all made conciliatory groans of commiseration.

  “It’s okay, guys. Years of therapy helped, but the one thing that truly gave me peace was when one of his other victims murdered him. It was like the weight of the world had been lifted from my shoulders. Am I awful?”

  Chloe hugged him. “No, honey bun. You’re human.”

  He fanned away his threatening tears. “Enough about me. Let’s hear your letter, Katy.”

  I cleared my throat, feeling timid. “First off, what I want from you guys is your honest opinion. I want my letter to drive home in no uncertain terms that there is no hope of forgiveness, reconciliation, nothing.” I took a breath. “Okay, here goes.”

  To Ted Peckham:

  I am Marybeth Melby’s daughter, and I am writing to you on her behalf. This will be the only communication you will receive.

  Leave my mother alone. She doesn’t want to see you or hear from you. You do not deserve her forgiveness, and you will never have it. You are not to contact her. You are also never to contact your sisters or my sister. If you do we will report you to your probation officer. We will inform him that my mother was one of your victims, and you are harassing her.

  Katy McKenna

  “I like that it’s to the point.” Nora donned her specs and took the letter. “You kept your feelings out of it and said what you had to say. He should get the message.”

  “You didn’t see the first draft. That was three pages long. When I read it later, I realized it was a crazy rant. You know, like, ‘You better watch your back, you big pile of steaming shit, because I’m coming for you and you are a dead man.’ Then I realized that probably wasn’t a good idea. You know, in case I ever do decide to finish him off. Don’t want my written confession sitting in his house.”

  “If it were my mom, he’d be on ice already,” said Chris. “I got a long-range rifle with night vision, and the bastard would never know what hit him. Just sayin’.”

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  BETTER DEAD THAN WED

  SUNDAY • AUGUST 25

  Posted by Katy McKenna

  My weirdo was-band called at the crack of dawn this morning, wanting to know when I’d be coming over.

  “I’m not sure if I can get there today.” I yawned, rubbing my crusty eyes as I leaned over to check the time.

  “Why not?” he whined. “I miss you.”

  “Because.” I couldn’t tell him the truth, so what could I say? “Because I need to look for a job, that’s why.”

  “What are you talking about? We have the bookstore. Why would you need to look for a job?”

  Oops. “Uh, well. You know. Um. I thought it would be good if I brought in some extra income to help cover your medical expenses.”

  “That’s why I love you so much. Always thinking ahead. Now get your sweet ass out of bed and come snuggle your lonely hubby.”

  We said good-bye, and I rolled over and snuggled Daisy instead, who groaned with sweet, uncomplicated doggy love.

  “One more day, Daisy. That’s all I’m giving him and then the hell with how upset he gets. He never worried about how much he upset me.”

  Daisy sealed my promise with a big lick on my cheek.

  I found Lisa sitting on Chad’s bed when I dragged myself into his room a little after ten a.m. My first thought was: Yay! He’s got his memory back. Then I saw his mottled face and red-rimmed eyes.

  “Is it true, Katy? What this woman is telling me?”

  I leaned on my cane at the end of his bed, avoiding Lisa’s haughty glower. “What exactly did she tell you?”

  “I told him the truth,” she sneered. “Somebody had to.”

  Chad raised the head of his bed to a sitting position. “She said that she’s my fiancée and you and I are—”

  “Divorced.” Lisa’s eyes challenged me to argue the truth.

  Chad looked at me with pleading eyes. “Tell me I didn’t leave you for this,” he said, waving his hand at her, “th-this—”

  “Bunny boiler?” I figured there was no point pussyfooting, so I gave it to Chad with both barrels. “Actually, you didn’t leave me for her.”

  “Oh thank God.” Relief flooded his pathetic face.

  “You left me for a twenty-two-year-old named Heather. Your personal trainer at the time.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  I held up my hand. “Not done yet. You had cancer.”

  “I had cancer?”

  I moved to the side of his bed, opposite Lisa. “Yup. Testicular.”

  His hand dove under the covers, presumably to do a self-inspection. I guessed that with the catheter still in place, he hadn’t noticed his loss.

  His face turned a lighter shade of pale at his discovery. I was afraid he might vomit, so I took the plastic kidney-shaped dish from his bedside table and set it on his lap.

  “I nursed you through the cancer, and then you got a trainer to get back in shape, and that’s when you dumped me.”

  “I couldn’t have. I love you.”

  “You don’t love her, you love me!” Lisa yanked his hand from under the covers and clasped it to one of her big knockers. “And I don’t care if your sack is half full.”

  Chad looked horror-struck, jerking his hand away. “I never could love—”

  “Still not done,” I continued, like a train wreck in slow motion. “You got Heather, the trainer, pregnant, then divorced me and married her.”

  “That’s not true!” said Lisa. “She was faking it so Chad would have to marry her.”

  I laughed at her. “Yeah, right. That’s what he told you. Now I’m telling you the truth.” I returned my gaze to Chad. “Anyway, Heather lost that baby and then got pregnant again. With triplets. Then you started harassing me with texts, phone calls, thinking you could win me back. As if. Somewhere in there, you starte
d screwing around with…” I tipped my head toward Lisa. “…her. Then Heather went into labor, lost two babies, and had a stroke. And then you moved in”—I pointed at his fiancée—“with her. By the way, you have a baby boy. Noah.”

  Chad looked stunned. “I can’t be that awful.”

  “Heather is a sweet girl who really loved you.” I paused. “I guess you could say that about me too.” I glanced at Lisa. “Her? Not so much. And she’s the one who shot you.” Now for the big finish. “She may also have been the one who shot you full of potassium chloride.” I was pretty sure she hadn’t, but I knew it would really piss her off. “It’s amazing you survived.”

  Lisa stood, fists clenched, looking like she wanted to give me a matching shiner. “For all we know, it could have been you.”

  Chad’s eyes darted between us. “What’re you talking about?”

  Lisa moved to the bedside chair, hugging her big rhinestone bedazzled purse to her chest. “Don’t listen to her, Chad. She’s lying.”

  I set my cane on the tray table and sat on the bed, my hands in my lap, out of Chad’s reach. “I know that’s a lot to take in all at once. And to be honest, she shot you by accident. The gun was actually aimed at me.”

  “You got shot, too? Is that why you’re limping?”

  “Yup.”

  “It was an accident, and you know it.” Lisa picked at a plastic ruby on her purse.

  I pinned her with a righteous glare. “You shoved the gun in my face. I thought you were going to kill me.”

  Lisa dropped her purse on the floor and reached out to Chad. “I was only trying to protect you. You have to believe me.”

  “Well, I got a big hole in my leg and could have bled to death, thanks to you. And you never even said you’re sorry. And then you punched me in the eye. I could still press charges, you know.”

  “Sorry.” She practically spat the word at me.

  “Yeah, well, I guess we’ll see how sorry you feel when I file a lawsuit.” I turned back to Chad. “About the potassium chloride. Someone tied you to your bed and injected you with it. Not a good thing when you get too much. The police questioned both of us. But I didn’t do it and though it kills me to say it, I really don’t think she did either.”

  Lisa shook her head vehemently. “I didn’t. I swear, Chad. I didn’t. You are the love of my life.”

  Chad grappled for my hand like a scared six-year-old reaching for his mommy, but coldhearted me wouldn’t give it up. “I don’t know about this Heather person or a baby,” he said, “but I believe you, Katy. I know you wouldn’t lie to me.”

  “Chad, you have to try very, very hard to remember what happened. Even though the police seem to have let us off the hook, you’re the only one who can clear our names.”

  What I didn’t say was: Someone tried to kill you and I’m afraid they may try again.

  What I wondered was: Why aren’t the police protecting him? And come to think of it, why are Lisa and I even allowed to set foot in the hospital? I guess we really are off the hook.

  “Will you help me?” he asked.

  I sighed, knowing I had no choice. “Yes.”

  Once back in the warm, comforting confines of good old Veronica, I had a good cry. That surprised me, because I thought I’d wrung out every last tear I had left for Chad, long ago.

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  BETTER DEAD THAN WED

  MONDAY • AUGUST 26

  Posted by Katy McKenna

  Last night Emily made me watch the first episode of The Walking Dead and in return, she watched Downton Abbey’s first episode. Neither of us won the other one over. We wound up staying up way too late drinking wine and arguing the merits of our polar-opposite shows. Good times.

  This morning I woke with a pounding head, stuffy nose, and cotton mouth. Really need to remember to take an antihistamine before drinking wine. Especially red. Ruby says it’s the tannins. After gulping down a couple ibuprofens, I poured a big mug of coffee and curled up in a comforter on the couch to recover and check my messages.

  Sam had texted: Chad was moved out of ICU this morning. He’s starting physical therapy today and asking for you.

  The phone chirped and a text came in from Mom: Need you here. Telling Mom everything.

  Mom and Ruby were holding hands on the living room sofa when I arrived. My grandmother looked shell-shocked and every one of her seventy-four years, and then some.

  I perched on the edge of an easy chair opposite them. “How are you doing?”

  “I feel like the worst mother in the world. My baby…” Ruby broke down, teardrops staining her beige linen skirt.

  “Mom, it’s okay. I’m okay.” My mother stroked her hand.

  “Why didn’t you tell us? We always tried to be supportive parents.”

  “I was just a little girl. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want everyone to be mad at me.”

  “Oh, honey,” said Ruby. “How could we have ever been mad at you? You did nothing wrong.”

  “I know that as an adult, but I didn’t know it as a six-year-old. And then you had your big fight with him after Grandma died, and he was finally out of our lives. So I just tried to forget about it.” She paused, expelling a hard sigh. “Then I found out about his arrest and then his outrageous sentence. And when you got your reunion idea, I knew I had to tell you.” Mom shook her head, pressing her lips tight to hold back tears. “But I have dreaded hurting you with this.”

  “Grandma.” I moved to her side. Feeling protective, I draped an arm around her slim, trembling shoulders.

  “Marybeth told me you knew about this.”

  “Yes, but it wasn’t my story to tell.”

  “Sweetheart, I understand that, so don’t feel bad.” She groaned with exasperation. “I’m sorry that I asked you to find him for me. How hard that must have been for you.”

  “You didn’t know.”

  “Katy?” said Mom. “Did you bring the letter?”

  “It’s in my purse.” I moved back to the chair opposite them and pulled it out of my bag.

  “My God, what a demented pervert,” Ruby said when done reading. “Marybeth said you’ve already responded.”

  “Yes, I mailed it Saturday. I made it very clear he’s not to contact any of us.”

  She sat up straighter, her mouth set grim with determination. “I’d really like to get my hands on him and finish off the son of a bitch.”

  “He’s not worth jail time, Mom.”

  “Bullshit,” said Ruby. “Nothing would give me greater satisfaction than to stand over his cold, dead body.”

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  BETTER DEAD THAN WED

  TUESDAY • AUGUST 27

  Posted by Katy McKenna

  My amnesiac lothario keeps texting me 24/7.

  When are you going to be here :-(

  I really love you xoxoxox

  Miss you…

  After a leg checkup this morning, I coerced myself into visiting Chad. The doctor’s office is next door to the hospital, and I was feeling kind of bad for the poor guy… Wow. Never thought I’d call Chad-the-Cad a “poor guy.”

  I found him in rehab, slowly walking between parallel bars with the encouragement of his physical therapist. I observed from across the room for a while, debating whether to say hello or not. Or not was winning when he saw me and his face lit up like a kid on Christmas morning.

  “Katy! Look at me. Walking. Pretty soon I can come home. Right, Holly?”

  The slender brunette PT nodded. “That’s right, Chad.”

  Whoa. Was he thinking about coming home to our house?

  He cleared up that question immediately. “I can’t wait to be back in our bed again.”

  I couldn’t let that slide and crossed the room. “Chad? Remember what I told you? We are not married anymore. You left me. Remember?”

  His face dimmed like a kid who just found out there’s no Santa. “What are you talking about? Of course we’re married. We’ve been married
over five years. Don’t kid around like that.”

  Holly gestured me to meet her in the far corner. “He’s having some short-term memory issues.”

  “Along with amnesia?”

  She nodded, keeping tabs on Chad’s progress over my shoulder.

  “This is too much,” I said. “I can’t do this.”

  “You’ll need to talk to his neurologist about how to handle it.”

  “No.” I shook my head, feeling my lower back muscles seizing up. “Not doing that. We are divorced. He walked out on me for another woman and married her. Therefore, he is not my problem.”

  I turned to watch him and Chad flashed us a silly grin. He’d already forgotten what I said.

  Holly smiled back and waved. “Keep going, Chad. You’re doing great.” Then to me, “So where’s his wife?”

  “It’s a long story. Suffice it to say, he dumped her, too, though they’re still legally married.”

  Chad was gripping the parallel bars for dear life, perspiration dribbling down his face, dragging his reluctant feet across the floor. He gave us a thumbs-up and nearly fell on his face.

  “Really hard to believe.” Holly slowly shook her head. “He seems so sweet.”

  I was tempted to share my porn video with her, but I restrained myself. “You don’t know the half of it. While she’s been recovering from the loss of two babies and a stroke, he dumped her for another woman.” While I jabbered on saying way too much, her benevolent smile dissolved into a contemptuous scowl.