The Tessa Randolph Collection, Books 1-3

by Paula Lester

  She reminded herself it wasn’t personal. Tessa was trying to right a wrong here. Silas definitely hadn’t killed Mr. Green. All she was trying to do was prove that by revealing who had. Surely, the universe or Grim Reaper magic or whatever it was that was responsible for making the badge work would be interested in aiding that honorable intent.

  And just to add some extra oomph, she crossed her fingers behind her back. It never hurt to hedge your bets.

  Mrs. Cross squinted at the badge. She adjusted her glasses and squinted harder. Tessa held it out farther, until her neighbor’s nose was about an inch from the picture.

  Silence fell over the hallway, except for the sound of someone’s television blaring a morning talk show from inside a nearby apartment.

  The woman’s forehead scrunched and her nose wrinkled, pulling her upper lip off her teeth and making her resemble a beaver.

  Finally, she backed away from the badge. Tessa waited for her to announce it was blank. But, instead, she said, “Well, then. If that’s the case, you may as well come with me to see them. You can drive.”

  A flood of relief made Tessa feel like giggling. She bit it back and opened the door to the lobby to let Mrs. Cross through. As they passed the front desk, Tessa felt a stab of melancholy at the fact that it was empty. Silas would probably be absolutely buried in work when he returned. He always had a long to-do list, and missing work would leave him behind.

  Maybe she could get Gloria to give her another day off to help him catch up when he got released.

  If he got released.

  Mrs. Cross complained about one thing or another the entire trip to Lark’s place. First, about Tessa’s driving. She was going too fast, then too slow. Finally, her complaints broadened outside the car. The hairdresser hadn’t been able to get her in when she wanted. The thermostat in her apartment made the place colder when she wanted it warmer. That murderous landlord had probably set the chemicals wrong in the pool and that’s why she had eczema on her ankles during the summer.

  Tessa was grateful when Mrs. Cross pointed to their left, almost bashing Tessa in the nose with her arm, and barked, “There! Pull in.”

  It was a more modest apartment building, even, than Mist River Manor, which would never be called lavish in any circle. The sign out front said King’s Court. At least, that’s what Tessa thought it said. Several letters on the painted sign were faded and peeled enough to be unrecognizable.

  She ran around to open the passenger side and offered Mrs. Cross her arm, which the elderly woman took to haul herself out of Linda. Tessa reached past her to grab the cane.

  “Which apartment?” she wondered as they approached the run-down building, which looked more like a motel than apartments, with a line of doors that all opened to the outside.

  “That one.” Mrs. Cross pointed with a trembling finger at one of the doors.

  Lark answered after only one knock. “Oh, hello, Louise.” She didn’t smile when she addressed Mrs. Cross. Then her eyes swept to Tessa. “Who’s this?”

  “My neighbor.” Mrs. Cross started to walk forward, forcing Lark to step aside or risk bruised toes. “She works for a lawyer, so I brought her to see if there’s anything to be done for your situation.”

  Tessa hesitated, hoping Lark would formally invite her over the threshold, but the chef only thinned her lips and stared, so she tiptoed in after Mrs. Cross.

  The apartment was neat and clean, though sparsely appointed. They were in a tiny living room, where Mrs. Cross already sat in a sky-blue armchair and a loveseat was the only other seat. An old-style tube TV sat on a worn wooden table and a crossword puzzle book lay open on a chipped up white painted coffee table.

  “I guess you’d better have a seat. Do you want any tea or water?” Lark’s tone revealed she was a reluctant hostess.

  “No, thank you,” Tessa answered. “We won’t take much of your time. Mrs. Cross told me you were wrongfully terminated from your position on Artemis Green’s staff, and I wondered if my firm may be able to help.”

  She shrugged, misery etched on her features. “I doubt it. Nathaniel is ruling the roost now, and he’s a worm. I doubt your lawyers will be nearly as venomous as his.”

  “Lark! Where are your manners? You shouldn’t talk ill of others in mixed company.” A barefoot woman dressed in a turquoise and cream peasant skirt and cream linen top with sleeves that ended in wide, flowing openings, entered the living room from a hallway. She had buttery blonde hair swept up in a loose bun at the nape of her neck. She smiled brightly at Tessa and then Mrs. Cross, though it faltered at the edges on her.

  “What mixed company, Ma?” Lark looked baffled. “It’s Louise Cross who used to work at the Green place with you and a paralegal lady.”

  Lark’s mother crossed the room in a sashay that, combined with the peasant skirt, made her appear to be floating. She shook Mrs. Cross’s hand and then Tessa’s. “I’m Sky. Welcome to our home.” She waved a hand around and a frown tugged at her lips. “Such as it is.”

  With a groan, Lark threw herself into the love seat next to Tessa. “You know how I feel about that, Ma,” she grumbled.

  Sky ignored her daughter and perched on the edge of the coffee table, since there weren’t any more real chairs. Tessa figured she was around Mr. and Mrs. Green’s age, but she looked healthy, like Artemis had, rather than frail like Mrs. Green—or Mrs. Cross.

  Sky blew out a puff of breath. "Yes, I know how you feel about it, dear. And we did it your way, didn't we? That's why we’ll be stuck in this apartment forever.”

  “To be fair,” Lark leveled her gaze on her mother, “we live this way because of the way I was raised. Can I help it if I took some notes from my mother?”

  “A woman can change her mind,” Sky said. “I thought it was best at the time. Now, we’ll only be here for as long as the money lasts. Then, we'll have to find a new place to live."

  "I'll find another job." Lark sounded exhausted, as though they'd had this conversation many times recently. "I'm sure I can find something at a local restaurant or hotel or something. I can cook and clean."

  Sky waved a hand. "Yes, yes." Her tone was resigned. "We'll make do, I suppose." She glanced at Tessa and Mrs. Cross as though she'd forgotten the other two women were in her living room. "Recently, we had a chance to do better, you know. Now, that's gone forever."

  "Because Lark was fired?" Tessa guessed. "I was actually hoping to hear about that."

  But Sky was already shaking her head. "No, no. She was never going to get rich working for Artemis. But she gave up her chance of getting the real money that was due to her.”

  “What was due to you?” Tessa was confused.

  Sky sent a look of question over to Lark, who nodded as if allowing her mother to say whatever she was about to reveal.

  “Lark is his. We had an affair about a year or so after I began working for him. You see, his wife wasn’t doing well at the time, and he just needed some companionship. Honestly, it was a fling. I was a free spirit at the time. And it wasn’t like it is today. I couldn’t be sure that she was his.

  “Still, he offered me a huge amount of money for us to just go away—disappear into the night.”

  “And you didn’t take it.” Lark shook her head, smiling lovingly at her mother.

  “I was silly. Money didn’t mean a thing to me, and I thought you needed your father in your life. Working there, I was able to bring her along many days. Artemis practically treated her like one of his own while they were together.”

  “You did the right thing, Ma. I loved getting to know him. My half-sister too, even if I couldn't tell her we were related. And you were right—money isn’t the answer to anyone’s prayers. Just look at what it’s done to Hannah and Nathaniel.”

  Sky glanced at her daughter. "Of course, now I’m regretting the way I raised you.”

  “Why do you say that?” Tessa asked.

  “Because she refused him again! About a month ago, he offered to give Lark her inherit
ance but on the condition that she quit her job. And she refused! Refused the huge sum that he tried to give her. Instead, she begged to be allowed to stay on, so she could be near him every day."

  "There are things in life that are more important than money, Ma." Lark's tone was firm.

  Tessa's mind raced, trying to catch up with the story Sky had told. But her mind was stuck on the first point. "So, Artemis Green was your father?"

  These words startled Mrs. Cross out of some sort of stupor. “What was that? I still had my cheaters tuned to the radio.”

  “I was just telling your friend that Lark is Mr. Green’s daughter.”

  Lark nodded, and Tessa said, "And why couldn't you tell Hannah?"

  "I couldn’t tell anybody. My father was afraid it would upset his wife so much that she may have a stroke or heart attack or something. She's been frail since her sickness.” Lark shrugged. "Plus, the whole affair thing. I went along with it to make my dad happy. And it was worth it. I got to be near him. Talk to him. He was very kind to me. It was a win-win situation. Until now."

  Sky spoke up. "Yes, now, everything is over. You don't have your father anymore, and you don't have any of the money you’re due because you're his daughter just as much as Hannah is. I’d say I told you so, but that ship has sailed."

  "It isn't really Hannah who's going to inherit the money anyway," Lark snapped. When her mother opened her mouth to argue, Lark held up a hand. "Nathaniel works at my father’s company. Hannah's a mouse. Her husband controls her and everything about their marriage. He’s really the one who's going to control the inheritance. I'm sure he'll run my dad's property and his business into the ground. Perhaps my dear sister and I will meet again in the poorhouse."

  Mrs. Cross clucked her tongue. "You should've taken the money and run, girl. Who turns down a fortune just to hang out with an old man and wait on his family hand and foot?"

  Lark glared at Mrs. Cross. "I know this may be news to you, Louise, but, like I said before, there are more important things in life than money."

  Mrs. Cross scoffed. "A little money never hurt anyone."

  Tessa withheld a giggle. She knew through Silas that Mrs. Cross played the lottery every week.

  Lark sighed. "No, but a lot of money can. I saw that close-up living in the Green household. Nathaniel has been completely spoiled by having wealth he didn't earn himself. He's a wretched man now. I'm glad I didn't take the money and become like that myself. In fact, that money made him murderous." She snarled the last word.

  "You think Nathaniel killed Mr. Green?" Tessa guessed.

  "Of course, he did. Who else would have? And why else would he be the one trying to get rid of me so quicky? I know they arrested some other poor slob for it, and they're trying to push me into being a secondary fall guy if the first one doesn’t hold. But I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that Nathaniel’s the one who poisoned my dad and tried to frame me for it."

  Sky reached out and took her daughter’s hand. “It’s going to be okay.”

  “No, Ma, it’s not.” She let her head fall back against the loveseat and murmured, "The sad part is I think he'll probably get away with it."

  Chapter 11

  AGAIN, IT FELT LIKE Gloria was going easy on her. Tessa only had one reap that morning and the rest of the day was hers to do as she pleased. Normally, that meant streaming a few rom-coms after eating lunch out at her favorite dive restaurant. Tessa saw no comedies in her future. But there was always time for a burger and fries.

  She stared across the street. It helped that her favorite greasy spoon was situated just across the road from Artemis Green’s company, aptly named Green Holdings and Properties.

  She thought about barging inside, using her badge to gain entrance. The only problem with that was she didn’t have a solid plan for what to do or how to deal with anything she found once she got inside. She racked her brain for a plan while she dipped hand-cut fries into a mound of ketchup.

  Sheila’s Diner served burgers so greasy they’d disintegrate the paper if you tried to take them to go. A thick milkshake helped to wash the gut bomb down.

  Tessa paid and gathered up her things. She decided to just do it—just walk across the street and go in. She resolved to hope for some good fortune to come her way, however unlikely. Then, good fortune slipped right past her in the diner’s doorway, wearing way too much cologne.

  Nathaniel shoved his way inside, never minding that Tessa was already midway through the exit. She gasped as his elbow shoved her in the side and then turned to watch him tip his head toward the cashier and pick up a brown paper bag, already laden with grease on the bottom.

  Big mistake.

  In only a few seconds, he’d brushed past Tessa again and hopped into a Mercedes illegally parked in a handicap spot out front.

  Finally, her brain clicked on. Tessa went into high gear, rushing to Linda and not giving the old gal a choice but to roar to life. She revved the engine, then sped off in pursuit of the much fancier car.

  She was focused on the road, making turn after turn but trying not to tail Nathaniel too closely, when her phone rang with an unknown number.

  Tessa was used to calls from debt collectors from before—when she’d worked as a waitress at Frank’s restaurant and lived paycheck to paycheck. But it’d been months since becoming a reaper had landed her squarely in financially stable territory. She’d paid off everything.

  “I don’t owe you anything,” she answered, flipping the phone to speaker mode.

  On the other end of the line, a robotic voice said, “Will you accept a collect call from Silas St. Onge?”

  “Silas? Uh, yeah. Sure.”

  There was a moment’s pause before the lines clicked over and she heard Silas’s breathing, slow and steady, into the receiver. “Silas?”

  “Tessa, hey.”

  “Hi.” She didn’t really know what to say. She wondered why he’d choose to call her. Didn’t he only get one phone call? And he had to be so mad. Plus, she was a little busy. Linda was having trouble keeping up with the more performant vehicle, and Tessa had no clue where Nathaniel was heading. It wasn’t to Mr. Green’s mansion.

  In fact, they were pointed toward the opposite side of town. Maybe the casino? She hadn’t been that way in a long time, not since chasing down Chet Sanborn’s spirit.

  “Are you busy?” Silas asked.

  “Kind of,” she admitted.

  “Okay, well, this won’t take long. I don’t really have a lot of time.”

  “Silas, shouldn’t you be calling your lawyer or something?”

  He laughed, full-throated and genial. She hadn’t thought she’d hear his laugh ever again, not like that. “That’s not exactly how it works. I’ve already talked—I’ve already seen my lawyer a bunch. And I do get a few minutes for personal calls.”

  “Oh.”

  “That’s all you have to say, considering the circumstance I’m in?”

  “No.” She bit her lip, making another turn. “I’ve got a lot to say. For one, I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry.”

  “I know you are. And look, it’s partially my fault.”

  “Okay?”

  “Yeah. I’ll just get to the point.” He sighed. “I know. I know how you act in situations like this. And I wanted to tell you not to.”

  “Not to what?”

  “Not to do whatever it is you’re doing right now. You’re trying to get me out, aren’t you?”

  “Well, sort of . . .”

  “Just don’t. Okay? That’s why I called. I want you to sit this one out.”

  “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me!” Tessa groaned.

  “What? What’s up?”

  Tessa couldn’t tell Silas the real reason she’d blurted out those words—because they’d undermine her cause. He’d just asked her to do the opposite of what she was doing. She couldn’t exactly tell him that Nathaniel had pulled into her old nemesis, the Sweetwater Golf Course.

  “I can’t just let you ro
t in prison.” Tessa pulled into a spot toward the back of the lot.

  “I’m not in prison. It’s jail. And yes, you can. I’ve got a lawyer. The police can find the real killer.”

  “They won’t,” Tessa argued.

  “You can’t know that. I’ve got to go. Please, just listen to me for once. I’m fine. I don’t need your help.” He hung up before she could get another word in edgewise.

  NATHANIEL WENT INSIDE the clubhouse and came back to his car with a golf cart. He loaded it with a set of clubs from his trunk, then set the brown paper bag, which was getting soggier by the minute, on the seat next to him.

  Seriously?

  Lark and Mrs. Cross hadn’t been wrong about Nathaniel. There were so many other things he could be doing right now in the middle of the day. He could be working. He could be comforting his wife, who’d just lost her father. Instead, he was spending his father-in-law’s money to play a round of golf.

  Tessa seethed, not only at Nathaniel but also at the golf course. It was the scene of her very first reap and also where she’d had to perform some reaper trickeration to send Chet Sanborn’s killer to the white lights that greeted everyone when their time came to an end. She hated this and every other golf course. It was like some sort of cosmic joke that she ended up on one so often.

  Tessa did some quick thinking. What would Gloria do in this situation? Gloria would have the perfect outfit in the trunk of her car. Tessa wasn’t so lucky. But she did have a paid-off credit card. She went in the clubhouse, found a pastel polo, a skirt, and some golf shoes, then bought a half dozen drinks from the cooler.

  The cashier asked if she’d like to pay for a round of golf, but when she saw the price, her eyes bulged. It was the same as she’d pay for the outfit and drinks! She lied and told him that her husband would be there shortly, finding a random name on the tee times list somewhere below Nathaniel Neilson.