Fit to Be Tied

by Kelsey Browning

  Maggie deadheaded a few of the huge cushion mums in the flower bed, trying to burn off energy in anticipation of the inspection. Angelina and her merry band of men would be here any minute.

  Maggie couldn’t help wondering if things might have been different with Deputy Barnes had he and James not concocted that whole website together. The different registration fees and Barnes’ multiple profiles, they might’ve gotten away with. But those fraudulent credit cards charges Teague had mentioned…those would be harder to duck. Abby Ruth was inside checking her account right now.

  Apparently, James had been the mastermind who’d stashed the little computer in Warner Talley’s room at Dogwood Ridge. So much for those volunteer hours going on James’ college applications.

  “They’re here.” Sera came bounding down the front stairs. “They just turned in the drive. I saw them from the landing.”

  “Here goes nothing.” Maggie glanced at the bright-purple heart rope bracelet Barnes had tied around her wrist last night. Even though he’d turned out not to be the man of her dreams, he’d truly wanted a second date. Plus, he’d given her a little something. Something she didn’t know was even still inside her. The hope of sharing some of her golden years with someone.

  Abby Ruth strolled out of the house. “Nothing on my credit card that’s not supposed to be there,” she reported.

  “Thank goodness,” Maggie said.

  “Yeah,” Abby Ruth agreed. “Guess I’ll make myself scarce. Kids are practicing on the back forty again. Need me for anything?”

  Maggie shook her head. “Just keep your fingers crossed or whatever Texans do for luck.”

  Darrell Holloway was in the driver seat of the white SUV with Hollis Dooley riding shotgun. Darned if Angelina didn’t look as if she was being chauffeured. Probably the way she’d planned it. He pulled the truck to a stop just a few feet short of the spot that only yesterday could have held a battleship.

  Angelina waited until Darrell opened the door for her, then slid out of the back seat, her shiny pumps hitting the ground in a one-two click.

  As usual she was glittering from head to toe. A scarf with shiny metallic thread halved and tugged around her neck made her look a little like a turtle.

  Darrell lagged behind while Hollis Dooley, his old hound dog at his side, plodded forward with his walker one slow step at a time.

  “Where do you want to start?” Maggie asked Angelina.

  “Upstairs, I suppose.” She pushed forward, knocking on the porch posts and taking a second glance at the front door jamb as she did. At the stairway, Angelina pushed and pulled on the wooden railing, as she took each step in an overly cautious way.

  “The stairs are safe,” Maggie said.

  “She’s dramatic sometimes,” Darrell said as he walked by.

  “Sometimes?”

  Hollis parked himself and his dog in the parlor. “Mind if I sit down?”

  “Not at all,” Maggie said. “Tea?”

  “I’d love some.”

  After fetching Hollis a glass, Maggie paced the first floor, going over all the problems in the house in her head and hoping that Angelina wouldn’t find something she’d missed.

  She could hear Angelina ordering Darrell to go into the attic. Seriously? She was just determined to find something. Maggie didn’t know why she’d worked so hard. The sound of every door opening and closing reverberated through the house. Then finally, there was a flush.

  Maggie held her breath.

  Not a gurgle or burp followed. Thank goodness.

  Angelina came down the stairs without using the handrail. She tapped her pen on the clipboard, then whisked right by Maggie without a word.

  In less than five minutes, she and Darrell were back outside, mumbling on the front porch. Hollis might have well stayed home. He hadn’t done anything but sip tea with Sera, but if he got a vote, Maggie felt certain they had his.

  Hollis finally joined the other two members of the Historic Preservation Committee on the porch, then he and Angelina headed for the truck.

  “Are they leaving?” Sera asked Maggie.

  But before Maggie could muster a response, Darrell strolled back inside.

  “Congratulations, Maggie.” Darrell extended his hand. “You’ve passed your inspection, and here’s your invitation to the annual Christmas Candlelight Tour of Homes.”

  Sera clapped and hugged Maggie.

  “Thank you!”

  “I didn’t say anything to Angelina, but that tree close to the house is a definite problem. I know you have had it on your radar, please take care of it soon. I’d hate for something to happen.”

  “I will,” Maggie said. “I promise.”

  “And come on by the store, and I’ll set you up with some new lights for the holiday tour decorations. Wouldn’t even mind lending you a hand stringing them, if you need it.”

  Sera elbowed Maggie.

  “Thank you, Darrell. I’ll stop by next week.”

  He raised a hand in a wave and walked outside.

  Maggie and Sera watched him all the way to his truck. “He’s kind of good-looking,” Sera said. “And he’s totally sweet on you.”

  He had seemed interested. “It’s probably just the hardware connection.” Or maybe that little beekeeping date had re-pollinated her in some sweet kind of way.

  “Whatever.” Sera grabbed her hand and dragged her back inside. “Let’s have a glass of wine to celebrate.”

  “Perfect.”

  Sera grabbed a bottle from the kitchen counter and went to work on the cork.

  The front door slammed.

  “Uh-oh,” Sera said.

  Maggie peeked down the hall. “That’s just Abby Ruth coming in.”

  “Not that.” Sera frantically opened drawers and cabinet doors. “Your visitor badge from the prison camp. I put it in the silverware drawer, and now it’s gone.”

  Maggie raced to Sera’s side. “When did you last see it?”

  “This morning,” Sera said, panic clear in her voice.

  Maggie shoved things around. Lifting the trivets and refolding the dish towels. But no badge. She turned to Sera. “If that’s fallen into the wrong hands, and people find out about Lil…”

  “She’ll be—” Abby Ruth’s voice boomed like God from the heavens, and there wasn’t a smile line in sight, “—fit to be tied.”

  Thanks bunches for reading Fit to Be Tied!

  Want more of Lil and the gals?

  * * *

  Discover what happens when they try to nab an art forger and trash thief in IN HIGH COTTON.

  When a tree topples over onto Miss Lillian’s prized 1948 Tucker Torpedo, the grannies are once again scrambling for money and keeping Lil in the dark. Lucky for them, they have their choice of two cases, but which to take—a suspected art forgery or mysteriously disappearing trash from the county landfill?

  * * *

  As usual, things aren’t exactly as they first seem, and the grannies soon find themselves going undercover and dumpster diving to track down both bad guys. And now that Lil has scored an unexpected early release from prison, the grannies have more at stake than ever.

  * * *

  Will they find the culprits in time to repair the Tucker before Lil gets home, or will she arrive and unravel their lies?

  * * *

  One-click IN HIGH COTTON now!

  * * *

  Turn the page for an excerpt from IN HIGH COTTON…

  Excerpt from In High Cotton

  Chapter One

  Summer Haven’s front doorbell rang in rapid-fire succession, making Sera freeze mid-stretch into a janu sirsasana pose on the kitchen floor. She glanced over at Maggie and Abby Ruth sitting at the farm table with Sheriff Teague Castro. “Were we expecting anyone?”

  “Not that I’m aware of.” Maggie straightened her dark ponytail and tucked her appliquéd shirt into her pants.

  “So help me.” Abby Ruth’s tone was as sharp as the creases on her trademark slim jeans. “I
f it’s Angelina Broussard coming around to stir up more trouble, I’m gonna wring that woman’s neck.”

  Teague’s voice dry, he said, “Aunt Bibi, it’s not smart to plan a murder right in front of the sheriff.”

  “No offense,” she said. “But you’re like family, and you know what a pain that woman is. Don’t you think I could get off on an insanity charge?”

  Teague shook his head, obviously not daring to step into that conversation, especially not with the mother of his dream girl.

  Sera hopped to her feet. “I’ll get it.” To forestall violence against the woman who had final say over Summer Haven remaining on the historic register, Sera raced for the foyer, her bare feet slapping against the wooden floor. She flung open the door and there stood Hollis Dooley with that stinky hound dog of his.

  The man was a hundred and sixteen if he was a day. Bundled up in a coat that made him look like a cross between a Ninja Turtle and the Michelin Man, Hollis leaned on his silver walker. Goodness, it wasn’t that cold outside. Here at the end of March, the shrubs had already taken the hint that spring was around the corner, displaying buds and tender greens so welcome after the cold of winter. Still, his false teeth were chattering.

  “Hi, Hollis.” Sera waited for him to say something, but he just stood there staring at her. Could he be lost? “What are you doing here? They didn’t miss your Meals on Wheels delivery again, did they?” She had her suspicions he was either sleeping through his doorbell or simply couldn’t hear it anymore.

  “No. Somethin’ else altogether,” he said.

  She leaned out the front door and looked around. No sign of a car anywhere. “Did you walk?”

  Hollis rubbed his gloved hands together. “It’s cold as a witch’s tit out here. You gonna invite me in or not?” He nudged her foot with his walker, jostling his old bloodhound, Ritter, in the process. Poor Ritter wasn’t getting along any faster than his master. Sometimes it was hard to tell who was walking who.

  “Of course.” Sera stepped back and opened the door wide enough for him to navigate.

  But why was Hollis Dooley paying them a visit? He hadn’t been out to Summer Haven since the historic preservation committee’s inspection, and even then he hadn’t been much help, mainly sitting in the parlor drinking iced tea while Angelina checked the place from top to bottom, her eagle eyes missing nothing.

  “You got a fire going? Thinking I could get warmed up was the only thing keeping me walking up that endless driveway.” Hollis hobbled in with a thump, thump, thump.

  Sera took Ritter’s leash and patted the old boy on the head. “Why in the world are you walking?”

  “My damned kids said it was too dangerous for me to be driving my car. They took the keys to my Bonneville. 1967. They don’t make ’em like that no more. Now I gotta catch that damned give-a-senior-a-ride bus to get to my job. Pain in the ass is what it is.” His face went slack for a moment. Then he said, “What about that fire?”

  “No fire today, but we’re all back in the kitchen where it’s nice and toasty. I’ve been baking all morning. Whole wheat prune-bran muffins.”

  His face scrunched up. “Sounds like something my colon sure don’t need. You got coffee?” He aimed his walker toward the kitchen as if he’d been there a hundred times. Maybe he had.

  Sera didn’t know much about who’d been a frequent visitor at Summer Haven before she landed here in Georgia and became roommates with Maggie and Abby Ruth. Unfortunately, Lillian Summer Fairview, the woman who owned this stately old money pit, wasn’t in residence. Sera and the others had to keep Lil’s true whereabouts on the down-low because her current address was Walter Stiles Federal Prison Camp. Not something Lil wanted the good people of Summer Shoals to know.

  “Coffee? That I can do.” Sera matched her steps to Hollis’ and together, they slowly made their way toward the back of the house. “It’s a pleasure to have you visit.”

  “No pleasure,” he grumbled. “I need some help. There’s problems. Lots of problems.”

  “Are you watching the news again?” she asked. “You shouldn’t. It’s a real downer. Focus on the positive, Hollis. That’s what I always say.”

  “Well, that’s a little hard to do when people are up to no good right in your own backyard. Don’t need the news to remind me of that.”

  “Your own backyard?” Sera stood back to let him shuffle into the kitchen. “What’s going on?”

  When Hollis saw Teague sitting at the farm table with Abby Ruth and Maggie, he stopped in his tracks. The old guy pierced Sera with an accusing glare. “You didn’t tell me you had company.”

  You didn’t ask. Just kind of barged right in. “The more the merrier.” She aimed a cheery smile in his direction, then headed for the coffeemaker. “Come on in. Sit and tell us about all these problems.”

  Hollis didn’t budge, just mumbled, “I’ll come back another time. I don’t want to intrude.”

  “Then you should’ve called before you showed up,” Abby Ruth said under her breath.

  The old man let out a sigh. “Miss Sera, could I talk to you for a moment in private?” He lifted the walker and pivoted, bumping the kitchen counter and jostling one of Lil’s precious Depression era vases. Sera jumped to catch it before it toppled to the floor. The collective inhale from the other three people in the room carried enough force to nearly suck Hollis back into the kitchen. But he clomped out the way he’d come in.

  “Maybe he’s going to ask you on a date,” Abby Ruth said with an exaggerated wink.

  “Real funny,” Sera whispered. “Stop it.” She slapped her thigh and Ritter moseyed alongside her.

  In the hallway, Hollis fidgeted with his jacket zipper. Zip. Halfway up. Zup. Halfway down. “Maybe I shouldn’t have come, but there’s something rotten up at the landfill.”

  Probably banana peels and moldy bread, as Hollis would well know since he worked there a few times each week, but Sera just cocked her head and listened to Hollis.

  “But if I tell the sheriff I noticed trash is missing, he’ll think I’m losing my mental faculties.”

  “Maybe more people are finally recycling around here.” About time. Smalls towns in Georgia certainly lagged behind California in their eco-friendliness. “That’s a good thing, Hollis. It shouldn’t worry you.”

  “No. It’s not like that. You know we have a spot for the recyclables. Didn’t need it before you happened into town. But I know my trash, and someone’s messing with it.”

  Strange that Hollis would be so possessive of garbage, but Sera couldn’t argue with a man who was dedicated to his work. Then again, if someone was making an effort to reuse other people’s castoffs, he should be applauded. But she couldn’t brush off Hollis’ concerns. “What do you think they’re doing with the trash? And really, does it matter?”

  He snatched the leash from Sera’s hand. “I shouldn’t have come. You don’t understand.”

  She placed a hand on his arm, thin and frail even under his puffy coat. “Tell me how I can help.”

  “I know you and your friends have tracked down a couple of no-good criminal types lately.”

  “And you want us to find the person responsible for your missing trash?”

  His chin angled up, and his dentures clacked together. “Stealing is stealing. Plus, they cut the fence, and that’s destruction of public property. If someone’s going to the trouble to break into the dump and steal, don’t you think that means something is wrong?”

  Hmm. Missing trash was one thing, but a damaged fence seemed more serious. As she considered the possibility of taking on another investigation, excitement buzzed under her skin. “I guess you have a point. But we’re not true detectives, you know.”

  “You ever heard of citizen’s arrest? It’s your neighborly duty to look into this. We don’t catch this yahoo, these thefts could lead to more dangerous stuff. I’ve seen those Criminal Minds shows. I think they call it escalation. Yeah, today they’ll rip off Copenhagen cans and tomorrow it’ll be ca
rs. Then armed robbery!”

  “I can’t speak for Maggie and Abby Ruth…” But why couldn’t she? They’d all agreed these cases made them feel more alive than ever. Besides, she didn’t know how much longer she’d be at Summer Haven. At some point, she needed to turn around and face her real life. The life no one in this town knew a thing about.

  But before then, she desperately wanted one last escapade with the two women who’d become her best friends in the world. “Why us?”

  “Because y’all can be what they call covert. I don’t need neither the sheriff or my kids catching wind of all this.”

  “But—”

  “But nothin’. The sheriff would think I was making a mountain outta a mold hill—” he chuckled at his own joke, “—and my kids are looking for any reason to throw my keister in the old folks’ home. And I sure as hell ain’t ready to play canasta and eat applesauce all damned day. Besides, they don’t ’low no pets. Where would poor ol’ Ritter go? I can pay cash money.” His droopy eyes pleaded with her. How could she say no?

  But with Hollis on Social Security and Meals on Wheels, he sure couldn’t afford to pay them much. And they were always strapped for funds to keep up with Summer Haven’s maintenance. Then again, investigating this for Hollis wasn’t really about the money. It was about the adventure. “We’ll do it.”

  His face softened, not at all like the old curmudgeon she’d come to know. “Thank you, Sera. I knew you’d be the one to understand.” He took an envelope from his jacket pocket and placed it in her hand. A surprisingly thick envelope.

  “What’s this?”

  “Payment in advance.”