Guidebook to Murder

by Lynn Cahoon

  Blue, I think I’ll paint the ceiling blue. My mind kept running over that old joke about wives and lovemaking as I rolled sapphire blue paint over the beige living room walls. All the walls in the house had been beige. Miss Emily must have gotten a great deal from a local painter who needed to use up his office remodel leftover paint.

  Already planning my bedroom, I’d decided on peach walls, leaving the hardwood floors and adding a thick floral area rug to give it some warmth. The living room would be my television and entertaining room, focusing on the television part of that. I couldn’t remember the last time I had invited anyone over for dinner.

  Except Greg.

  And that didn’t count since he was just doing his sworn duty to serve and protect. The logical side of my brain chirped in. He’s just doing his job. Yep, the living room would focus on a new flat-screen television on this wall to mirror the fireplace on the opposite wall. I could imagine being curled up with a dog at my feet, music playing in the background, a roaring fire in the hearth, a good book in my hand, and Greg watching sports on the television.

  Wait—what?

  My imagination was getting the best of me. I set the roller down in the pan and surveyed what I’d accomplished that day. Half a wall left and I’d be done. I glanced at my watch. Four-thirty. If I hurried, I’d have time to grab a quick shower and change of clothes before Greg got there with dinner. I ran to the kitchen to grab a soda from the fridge. Looking out on the construction mania in my backyard, I froze.

  Greg’s brother, Jim, stood in the driveway talking to Todd. Apparently enough of the base work was done and soon the painting crew would replace the siding and roofing crews I’d been living with. Todd saw me through the window and waved at me to come outside.

  Dread filled every pore of my body as I walked out the door. One, I wasn’t looking forward to seeing Jim King again after he’d caught Greg and me sipping beer together on the porch. And two, the only reason contractors wanted to talk to me lately was to get my approval on cost overruns or show me the termite/water/fairy dust damage in the wood that would run me a few thousand more dollars.

  I crossed over the yard and braced myself for the bad news. “Hey, guys, what’s up?” I said in a tone that I hoped sounded more cheerful than grumpy.

  “Good news,” Todd chirped. “I just told Jim here that I’d be out of the way by Friday and he could start the painting on Monday.”

  Hope filled my soul. “So, we could be done by the end of the month?” If everything fell right into place, I could take pictures of the house for next week’s council meeting. And maybe they’d get off my back.

  “One problem,” Jim barked.

  I glanced at him. Great, now he was going to turn down the job on moral grounds? What, he thought I’d corrupt him while his crews painted the house? “What problem?”

  “I haven’t received the color approval letter from the city. I called last week, and they said the city planner was on an extended leave. Didn’t know when I’d get my approval.” Jim seemed almost cheerful about the delay.

  Frustrated, tears filled my eyes. “Amy’s not on leave, she’s disappeared. Did they say if anyone else could approve the color choice?” South Cove was very concerned that the building colors, especially the buildings on Main Street, stayed true to historical color tones. I lucked out with the shop since the facing wall was brick, but I still had only a few choices when I’d painted the back of the building.

  “The girl who answered said the mayor was handling all those requests.”

  “The mayor, of course.” I spat out the words. I could almost see the finish line, and fate had thrown me another hill to climb.

  “Do you want me to call back?” Jim seemed like he was trying to be helpful. “I can’t start the job until the city has approved the color choice. I’d be removed from the approved contractor list if I took that kind of risk.”

  “You call and I’ll call. Between the two of us, maybe we can get that approval by the end of the week.” By the end of the year was more like it, especially after my run-in with the mayor today. I was sure he’d love to help me thwart his plans to condemn the property and sell it to Eric. Jimmy Marcum’s face came to the front of my mind. I had a meeting scheduled for next week. Hiring a lawyer just might help my chances of ever getting the clearance.

  “I need to make a call. Anything else I can do for you guys?” I glanced back at Todd, hoping he’d say no. So far, this conversation had only cost me time, not more in materials or labor.

  “A cold beer would be nice.” Todd grinned. “Other than that, we’re fine.”

  “I’ll check back in on Friday. I can hold the crew off until then, but if we don’t have clearance Friday, we’ll have to start on another house and I won’t be able to get you back on the rotation for a week. Later.” Jim slapped Todd on the back and headed to his truck.

  “Mr. Sunshine,” I commented, nodding to Jim’s retreating back.

  “He’s an acquired taste.” Todd watched the painting contractor get into his truck. “I’ve never seen him act this way around a pretty, single gal. Did the two of you date?”

  “Nope.” I spun around and headed to the house, but Todd’s voice stopped me and I turned back.

  “Hey, that history guy came back this morning taking pictures. I let him go back behind the shed. That’s okay, right?” Todd’s face looked like he’d been caught with his hands in the cookie jar. “I mean, I walked back with him and all, but he didn’t seem in too much of a hurry. I’ve never seen someone take so many pictures of a broken-down wall.”

  “Mr. Gleason’s working on a project for me.” A project that might just save my butt and this house.

  “So, the rumors are true?”

  “What rumors?”

  Todd kicked at a dirt clod lying on the driveway. “That the wall is part of the old mission? You know there’s a story about a chest full of pirates’ gold being buried around the mission.”

  I didn’t miss the gleam in Todd’s eyes. What was it with stories of pirates that made grown men act like little boys? “I’m sure it’s just a story.”

  “You might want to get that fence done sooner than later. Once the rumor gets out, I’d be on the watch for fortune hunters. You don’t want your lawn dug up in the middle of the night.”

  I sighed. I knew Todd was right. I’d already had to lock up the shed to keep the art thief out. Now I needed to know—and soon—if those coins Greg and I found in the play chest were real or fake. If they were real and word got out, I’d have people all over this property. I was never going to get the house up to code for the council meeting at this rate. I needed to talk to Jimmy Marcum—now.

  I waved good-bye to Todd, headed back to the house, and picked up my cell. Maybe I should put the coins in a safety deposit box at the bank. I hadn’t thought much about them since I’d shoved them into a kitchen drawer yesterday. I glanced at the clock. Ten to five. No answer at the law office and the bank would be closed before I could get there. Two more items for tomorrow’s to-do list.

  I climbed the stairs to shower and change before Greg arrived with dinner. It might just be takeout on the porch, but I didn’t have to look like I worked on his brother’s painting crew.

  Chapter 19

  My hair was still wet when the doorbell rang. But at least I wasn’t covered in blue polka dots from my painting. I’d be glad when the house was finished and I could concentrate on other disaster areas in my life, like my business and nonexistent love life. I felt totally pathetic for leaning on Greg the way I’d been, but like Scarlett, I’d think about that tomorrow. Tonight, he was bringing me dinner.

  “Hey, you’re early.” I swung open the door. And stopped. Greg wasn’t standing in front of me.

  Sabrina Jones filled my porch in a hot pink pantsuit that strained at the buttons. She barreled through the open door. “Well, it looks like you’ve been busy.”

  “Why don’t you come in?” I said to her back as I closed the door. G
ritting my teeth, I decided to find out why she had appeared on my doorstep. Maybe I’d even be able to trick her into saying she took the paintings. Sabrina had to be the fat woman John Paul Hunter had described. Too bad Greg would believe that he needed actual proof to arrest her.

  Sabrina gazed around the room and then stuck her head into my new study. “What have you done with her furniture? You know most of those items were antiques. Valuable pieces that have been in the family for years. Please tell me you haven’t destroyed them.”

  “I’m not sure it’s any of your business since Miss Emily gave them to me, not you or your husband, but no, I’m waiting for an antiques dealer to come and appraise the furniture I’m not keeping.” Stay calm, Jill. Keep her talking until Greg gets here.

  “I still don’t understand why she left everything to you. After all George and I did for that old bat. All the times I made her tea. He’s devastated that his aunt treated him so shabbily.” Sabrina nodded to the study. “I see you’re keeping her old desk. Is there any paperwork in there about the history of the house and the property? George should keep that kind of family heirloom, and you’d see that if you had any sort of decency at all.”

  I wanted to strangle the woman in front of me, but I was pretty sure my hands wouldn’t fit around her neck. “After I look through the papers, I’ll be glad to give any family keepsakes to your husband.”

  “We’ll see.” Sabrina’s beady eyes glanced toward the kitchen. “Aren’t you going to offer me a drink? It’s very warm in here. You should invest in some fans.”

  “Sure, what would you like?” I pointed to the kitchen. “We can sit in there, away from the paint fumes.”

  “Pepsi, if you have it.” Sabrina barely fit through the arched door frame leading to the kitchen. She plopped down into one of the chairs at the table. “I think we have some business to discuss.”

  “Really? I can’t think of anything we need to talk about.” I opened the fridge door and grabbed two Cokes, nudging the lone can of Pepsi farther back in the fridge. “All I have is this, unless you want some ice water.”

  “I guess it will have to do.” Sabrina sighed. She flicked the pop tab with a long, polished nail and drank down half the can.

  I opened my soda and waited. Sabrina’s eyes kept glancing at the painting by Miss Emily that I had hung in the breakfast nook. I decided to jump in the fray. “Nice painting, isn’t it? Did you know Miss Emily was such an artist?”

  Sabrina’s cheeks turned as pink as her jacket. “I didn’t know. The painting is beautiful.”

  “She even had a studio back in the shed. Of course, some paintings were stolen before we moved them to a more secure location.” I watched her face. “I’m surprised with all the times you came over, Miss Emily never mentioned she painted.”

  Sabrina stared down at the soda can. “That’s terrible about the breakin. South Cove seems such a quiet place to live, not like the bigger cities.” She twirled the can. “Where did you move the paintings?”

  Sure, like I would tell her. I’d wake up one night with my throat slashed and she’d have the paintings ready to sell to the Hunter Gallery or some other willing dealer. I didn’t trust John Paul as far as I could swing him by his carefully tied sweater. “Somewhere safe. So, why did you stop by?”

  Sabrina’s eyes scanned the kitchen. I swear she was counting the amount of money I’d spent on the remodel. “Just wanted to see how you were getting along. The contractors must be costing you a fortune. Are you sure this old house is worth the money? You probably could have bought a nice little condo in Bakerstown for half of what you are spending just to get this house up to code.”

  I wanted to say it was my money and I’d spend it any way I saw fit, but that would have been rubbing her nose in the fact that Miss Emily left it to me, rather than her and her creepy husband. Several answers crossed my mind, and I filtered them out for good taste. “But I love this house,” was what I finally came up with. Tears came unbidden when I added, “and it reminds me of Miss Emily.”

  “I would have sold it to that developer and gone on with my life.” Sabrina sniffed.

  Had Eric approached her, as well? “So, you’ve met Eric and Bambi?”

  “They might have stopped by the house to pay their respects to George after Miss Emily passed. Most people thought she would have left this dump to family, not some stranger.”

  Now we were getting down to the reason Sabrina had come by. I glanced at the clock, five-thirty. Greg would be showing up in thirty minutes. No reason to get her ticked off too soon. “Bambi’s working at City Hall, helping out since Amy’s disappearance.”

  “I heard about that. You and Amy were friends, right?” Sabrina finished off her soda.

  “We are friends.” I corrected her tense. Man, this woman knew how to push buttons. I felt like I was in a boxing ring, dodging punches.

  “Yes, of course. Have the police come up with any leads on where the poor girl might be?” Now Sabrina twirled the soda can.

  Like she gave a rat’s butt. “Not yet, but it’s early.”

  “I read somewhere that if you don’t find the missing person in forty-eight hours, you’re more likely to find a body.”

  Okay, that was just mean. I was done. “What do you want, Sabrina?”

  She grinned at me. “So we’re done playing nice, huh? Okay then, I want you to split the inheritance with George. He deserves that money. You’ll walk away with more than you deserve.”

  “And why would I do that?” The nerve of this woman.

  “Let’s just say it’s good karma. The little roadblocks you’ve been running into may all suddenly disappear. Maybe your friend will even show back up.”

  “If you did anything to Amy—” My voice rose as I stood up.

  “Who said I did anything to Amy? I might just know where she is, though.” Sabrina leaned forward. “Maybe we can make a deal. You give George half of the inheritance money, before you went on the spending spree. And we’ll call it even.”

  “Seriously, if you know where Amy is, you’d better tell me.” My voice got louder.

  “Or what? You’ll throw that can of soda at me?” Sabrina laughed. “Sit down, girl, and think about this. You don’t need all that money anyway. George was related to Miss Emily. That old bat never once listened when I’d explain why it would be better for estate taxes to give the money to us before she croaked. Even when I told her—”

  “Told her what?” Greg’s voice came through the open screen door. His body filled the space and I was never more glad to see anyone in my life.

  “Hey, Greg, come in.” I stood to unlock the screen. Taking the bags of takeout from his hands, I put them on the counter. “You know Sabrina, right?”

  Greg’s look told me all I needed to know. I was in big trouble. No matter that she came to see me, this was another one of my investigative shenanigans in his mind.

  “What did you tell Miss Emily when you visited? And when was this? If I recall, when I talked to you, you said you hadn’t seen her in months. Too busy with your own life to cater to some dried-up prune of an aunt? Wasn’t that the answer?” Greg eased into a chair next to Sabrina and spun his cell phone on the table. “So, let’s start over. When did you see your aunt last?”

  “I don’t like what you’re implying, Detective King. I’m sure if I forgot to tell you anything, it was due to the shock and grief we went through when Miss Emily passed.” Sabrina struggled to get out of her chair.

  “You didn’t answer my question. What did you tell her?” Greg leaned back, watching the woman struggle. He picked up the cell and seemed to be searching through his messages.

  Sabrina’s face turned redder than her jacket this time. “I told her that she owed it to George to pass on some of the family money. It was his grandfather’s, and George had every right to it.”

  “According to Jimmy, George’s dad got his share of his grandfather’s estate and blew it before he died. So, how did you think that you had any
right to Miss Emily’s share?”

  By this time Sabrina had managed to stand up. She adjusted her jacket. “She didn’t have any kids—the money should have passed to George. If that’s all, I’m sure my husband is expecting me.”

  “One more thing. I’ve been trying to reach you all day. I stopped by the house, but George said you were shopping.” Greg didn’t even look at the woman, staring at something on his cell phone screen instead. I couldn’t read his expression. “How do you know John Paul Hunter?”

  Sabrina’s beet-red face lost all color at the mention of the gallery owner’s name. “I don’t. What makes you think I know this man?”

  “Because he described a woman resembling you as the person who sold several paintings to the gallery. Miss Emily’s paintings.” Greg sounded cool.

  “I didn’t even know she painted until today. Maybe you should be asking your girlfriend about Mr. Hunter.”

  “Actually, Mr. Hunter met Jill this afternoon. He categorically stated she was not the person he bought the pictures from.” Greg grinned up at me. If he mentioned the mayor thinking I was fat, I would slap him.

  “Well, I don’t know the man. I have to go.” Sabrina headed out of the kitchen to the front door.

  “I’ll walk you to the door.” Greg winked at me. “By the way, do me a favor and don’t leave the area for a while. I might have some more questions for you.”

  Shaking, I sank down at the table. What was Greg thinking? Now Sabrina knew she was under investigation. I laid my head down and tried to focus. Sabrina had offered me Amy back if I transferred the money she wanted. Did she have Amy held somewhere? Or was she just playing with an emotion she knew would work?

  “Ready for dinner?” Greg’s voice brought me out of my funk. Startled, I jerked my head up to see him opening the cabinet drawers, looking for silverware.

  “To the left of the dishwasher.” I leaned back into the chair. It had been a long day, and I felt exhausted. When Greg didn’t answer, I turned and pointed. “Right there, the next drawer.”