by J. C. Eaton
“The recommitment vows will be a fully catered affair complete with a theme. And one more thing, Phee. She asked if you could get Josh Groban to perform.”
I raised my hand in the air and called our waiter. “Doggie bag please.” I pushed the plate away from me. “Josh Groban? What makes my aunt think I can get Josh Groban?”
“She has faith in you, Phee. We all do.”
Chapter 33
Oddly enough, I arrived at work the next day fully awake and energized. With the wedding behind me and the perpetrators in the custody of the Maricopa County Sheriff’s Office, it was business as usual. Nate seemed to be feeling relieved as well.
He had located Louis, married off Ina, and led the authorities to the men responsible for Theodore Sizemore’s and Roland LeDoux’s deaths. Of course, without actual tangible evidence, it was anyone’s guess how things would turn out.
It felt good to be back at my desk focused on accounts and billing. That was why it came as a total surprise when I received an e-mail alert from Sylena. I had forgotten I’d given her my personal e-mail as well as my e-mail from the office. The message and its related photos took me completely by surprise.
“I couldn’t wait to share some of this, Miss Kimball. My boyfriend and I were up most of the night putting it together. You see, he was scouting around the mountains a few weeks before the wedding and took some shots of your party planners fast at work. Interesting, huh? We didn’t realize it was them until we went over the footage together. Anyway, I’ll get a decent video to you in a few days.”
The small image of the first picture in the slide show appeared at the top of my screen. I clicked the arrow and waited for the program to start. A second later, the images started to appear. “Nate! Get in here! You’re not going to believe this!”
Sylena’s boyfriend, Ian, had inadvertently taken photos of the incident in Petroglyph Plaza involving Antoine/Tony and Roland. It was ironclad evidence. No doubt about it. I wondered why he hadn’t said anything when the deputies interviewed the campers. Unless . . . oh no! Ian was never interviewed. He was out doing his stealth photography, crawling and climbing about. Unseen. Unheard. A regular James Bond with a digital camera.
Nate couldn’t believe what he was looking at either. “Unbelievable, Phee! And there’s more?”
“There’s more, all right, but mostly unflattering pictures of the guests and certain relatives.”
“Let me take a look.”
“There’s really no need.... What was that? Augusta just walked in.”
Nate turned his head and I switched screens. “I’ll make sure Sylena sends you those photos. I’ll e-mail her right now.”
Augusta walked across the office and booted up her computer. “Good morning, Mr. Williams! Good morning, Phee!”
“Your timing couldn’t be better, Augusta,” I shouted back.
Nate added his two cents as well. “Yeah. Couldn’t be better.”
Augusta came into my office and gave us both a funny look. “What’s up with the both of you?”
“We’re just looking at some pics from my aunt’s wedding. I’ll fill you in later.”
“Was it a nice wedding, Phee?”
“It was . . . different. But yeah, nice.”
As Augusta headed back to her desk, Nate spoke. “Hold on. Might as well get this over with now.”
I could tell by the tone of his voice he was anxious and it was starting to rub off on me. “Uh-oh. Is this the interesting news you wanted to share with us?”
“Yep. It sure is, kiddo. And I think it’s good news.”
Augusta leaned on one of the file cabinets and waited for our boss to speak. He took a deep breath and announced he had hired another detective to join the firm.
“It’s about time, Mr. Williams,” Augusta said. “We were afraid you were going to have a heart attack with all that running around.”
“Look.” Nate stared straight at me. “I probably should have run this by you first.”
“Me? You don’t have to run anything by me. This is your firm.”
“True. True. But all of us are a team and this person needs to fit in. To be part of that.”
“Are you saying you’re not sure you made the right choice?” I asked.
“Oh, I think I’ve made a great choice. Someone I can trust. Someone who’ll have my back. All of our backs.”
Augusta took a step away from the file cabinet and cocked her head. “Sounds like you already know this person.”
“I do. Phee does, too.”
“What? Who? Who has my back? Who do I know?”
“Marshall Gregory. He’s taking early retirement in September. Put his house on the market, expecting to make a move to a warmer climate. Guess Arizona is as warm as they get. So what do you think, kiddo?”
My mouth opened but nothing came out. Nate walked toward Augusta and kept talking.
“Marshall’s been with the Mankato Police Department for years. Top-notch detective. Great guy. Single. He can’t wait to start working, and he was tickled pink you were here, Phee.”
“Tickled?” The word came out like a small chirp.
“Are you all right, Phee?” Augusta asked.
“I’m fine. Fine. Just a frog in my throat.”
I coughed a few times for the effect before responding to Nate. “Wow! Marshall Gregory. That’s a wonderful choice. He’ll fit right in.”
“I thought so, too. Listen, I’ve got to get back to work.”
Augusta tiptoed to my desk and leaned in. “Frog in your throat, huh? What was that all about? Is this Marshall Gregory going to be some sort of prima donna? Or worse yet, a bumbling knucklehead?”
“No. Not at all.”
“Then what? You’re keeping something from me.”
I lowered my voice until it was barely audible. “If you must know, Augusta, I’ve had the biggest crush on Marshall Gregory since he first came to work at the precinct.”
“I see.”
Augusta eyed me and crinkled her nose. “If this investigative business keeps booming, we might need a third investigator by the end of next year.”
“You’re not thinking of me, are you?”
“You? Of course not. I was hoping Mr. Williams might dip into that stable of detectives in Mankato and come up with a ruggedly handsome one closer to my age.”
My jaw dropped. Literally. “Um, well, yeah. Guess we’d better keep building up the client base.”
Augusta winked. “That won’t be hard. As long as Sun City West is right down the road, we won’t have any problem.”
Don’t miss the next
Sophie Kimball Mystery,
STAGED 4 MURDER
By J.C. Eaton
Available at your favorite bookstore or e-tailer in July 2018
Turn the page for a sneak peek!
Chapter 1
Sun City West, Arizona
The wet sponge that hung over the Valley of the Sun, sapping my energy and making my life a misery for the past three months, wrung itself dry and left by the end of September. Unfortunately, it was immediately replaced by something far more aggravating than monsoon weather—my mother’s book club announcement. It came on a Saturday morning when I reluctantly agreed to have breakfast with the ladies from the Booked 4 Murder book club at their favorite meeting spot, Bagels ’n More, across the road from the entrance to the Sun City West community. I arrived a few minutes late, only to find the regular crew talking at once, in between bites of bagels and sips of coffee.
“Who took the blueberry schmear? It was right in front of me.”
“It still is. Move the juice glasses.”
“I hate orange juice with the pulp still in it.”
“If it didn’t have pulp, it’d be Tang.”
Cecilia Flanagan was still dressed in her usual white blouse, black sweater, black skirt, and black shoes. Don’t tell me she wasn’t a nun in a former life. Shirley Johnson looked as impeccable as always, this time with a fancy teal top
and matching earrings, not to mention teal nail polish that set off her dark skin.
Judging from Lucinda Espinoza’s outfit, I wasn’t sure she realized they made wrinkle-free clothing. As for Myrna Mittleson and Louise Munson, they were both wearing floral tops and looked as if they had spent the last hour at the beauty parlor, unlike poor Lucinda, whose hair reminded me of an osprey’s nest. Then there was my mother. The reddish blond and fuchsia streaks in her hair were replaced with . . . well . . . I didn’t even know how to describe it, except the base color had been changed to a honey blond and the streaks were now brunette. Or a variation of brunette.
The only one missing was my aunt Ina, and that was because she and her husband of four months were in Malta, presumably so my aunt could recuperate from the stress of moving into a new house.
“You look wonderful, Phee,” Myrna announced as I took a seat. “I didn’t think you’d ever agree to blond highlights.”
My mother nodded in approval as she handed me a coffee cup. “None of us did. Then all of a sudden, Phee changed her mind.”
It was true. It was a knee-jerk reaction to the fact my boss, Nate Williams, was adding a new investigator to his firm. An investigator I’d had a secret crush on for years when I was working for the Mankato, Minnesota, Police Department in accounting.
“Um . . . gee, thanks. So, what’s the big news? My mom said the club was making an announcement.”
Cecilia leaned across the table, nearly knocking over the salt and pepper shakers.
“It’s more than exciting. It’s a dream come true for all of us.”
Other than finding a discount bookstore, I couldn’t imagine what she was talking about.
My mother jumped in. “What Cecilia is trying to say is we have a firsthand opportunity to participate in a murder, not just read about it.”
“What? Participate? What are you saying? And keep your voices low.”
“Not a real murder, Phee,” Louise said. “A stage play. And not any stage play. It’s Agatha Christie’s The Mousetrap, and we’ve all decided to try out for the play or work backstage. Except for Shirley. She wants to be on the costume and makeup crews.”
“Where? When?”
Louise let out a deep sigh. “The Sun City West Footlighters will be holding open auditions for the play this coming Monday and Tuesday. Since they’ve refurbished the Stardust Theater, they’ll be able to use that stage instead of the old beat-up one in the Men’s Club building. All of us are ecstatic. Especially since we’re familiar with the play, being a murder and all, and we thought in lieu of reading a book for the month of October, we’d do the play.”
I thought Louise was never going to come up for air, and I had to jump in quickly. “So . . . uh, just like that, you all decided to join the theater club?”
“Not the club, just the play,” my mother explained. “The play is open to all of the residents in the Sun Cities. Imagine, Phee, in ten more years you could move to one of the Sun Cities, too. You’ll be fifty-five.”
I’d rather poke my eyes out with a fork.
“She could move sooner,” Myrna said, “if she was to marry someone who is fifty-five or older.”
“That’s true,” Lucinda chirped in. “There are lots of eligible men in our community.”
I was certain Lucinda’s definition meant the men were able to stand vertically and take food on their own. I tried not to shudder. Instead, I became defensive, and that was worse.
“Living in Vistancia is fine with me. It’s a lovely multigenerational neighborhood. Lots of activities . . . friends . . . and it’s close to my work.”
Louise reached over and patted my hand. “Don’t worry, dear. I’m sure the right man will come along. Don’t make the mistake of getting a cat instead. First it’s one cat, and then next thing you know you’ve got eleven or more of them, and no man wants to deal with that.”
“Um . . . uh . . . I have no intention of getting a cat. Or anything with four legs. I don’t even want a houseplant.”
The women were still staring at me with their woeful faces. I had to change the subject and do it fast.
I jumped right back into the play. “So, do all of you seriously think you’ll wind up getting cast for this production?”
My mother nodded first and waited while the rest of the ladies followed suit. “No one knows or understands murder the way we do. We’ve been reading murder mysteries and plays for ages. I’m sure the Footlighters will be thrilled to have us try out and join their crews.”
Yeah, if they don’t try to murder one of you first.
“Well, um . . . good luck, everyone. Too bad Aunt Ina won’t be able to try out. Sounds like it’s something right up her alley.”
My mother all but dropped her bagel. “Hold your tongue. If we’re lucky, she and your uncle Louis will stay in Malta until the play is over. It’s bad enough having her in the book club. Can you imagine what she’d be like onstage? Or worse yet, behind it? No, all of us are better off with my sister somewhere in the Mediterranean. That’s where Malta is, isn’t it? I always get it confused with the other one. Yalta. Anyway, leave well enough alone. Now then, where is that waitress? You need to order something, Phee.”
The next forty-five minutes were spent discussing the play, the auditions, and the competition. It was ugly. Like all of the book club get-togethers, everyone spoke at once, with or without food in their mouth. I stopped trying to figure out who was saying what and instead concentrated on my meal while they yammered away.
“Don’t tell me that dreadful Miranda Lee from Bingo is going to insist on a lead role.”
“Not if Eunice Berlmosler has any say about it.”
“She’s the publicity chair, not the director.”
“Miranda?”
“No, she’s the lady who brings in all those plastic trolls to Bingo.”
“With the orange hair?”
“Miranda?”
“No, those trolls. Miranda’s hair is more like a honey brunette. Perfectly styled. Like the shimmery dresses she wears. No Alfred Dunner for her. That’s for sure.”
“Hey, I wear Alfred Dunner.”
“You’re not Miranda.”
“Oh.”
“What about Eunice?”
“I don’t know. What about her?”
“Do we know any of the men who will be trying out?”
“I’ll bet anything Herb’s going to show up with that pinochle crew of his. They seem to be in everything.”
I leaned back, continuing to let the discussion waft over me until I got pulled in like some poor fly in a vacuum.
“You should attend the auditions, Phee. Go and keep your mother company.” It was Cecilia. Out of nowhere. Insistent I show up for the Footlighters’ tryouts.
“You can scope out the men, Phee. What a great opportunity.”
Yep, it’ll be right up there with cattle judging at the state fair.
In one motion, I slid the table an inch or so in front of me, stood up, and gave my best audition for the role of “getting the hell out of there.”
“Oh my gosh! Is it eleven-thirty already? I can’t believe the time flew by so quickly. I’ve got to go. It was great seeing all of you. Good luck with the play. I’ll be sure to buy a ticket. Call you later, Mom!”
As I raced to my car, I looked at the clear blue sky and wondered how long I’d have to wait until the next monsoon sponge made its return visit to the valley. Weather I could deal with. Book club ladies were another matter, and when they said they were going to participate in a murder, I didn’t expect it to be a real one.
Chapter 2
I had applauded myself for delicately balancing two iced coffees and two toasted bagels from Quick Stop when the phone caught me off guard and I nearly spilled everything on my desk. It was Thursday morning, and Augusta, our part-time secretary, wouldn’t be in for another hour or so.
“Nate! I’m back with your iced coffee,” I shouted. “Got to grab the phone.” The voice at the othe
r end, although not totally unexpected, still made me jump before I could finish saying, “Good morning, Williams Investigations.”
“Is this the infamous Sophie Kimball who’ll stick bamboo shoots in our fingernails if we lose a receipt?”
“Marshall? I . . . um . . . didn’t expect to hear your voice so soon.”
“So soon? It’s been what? Almost a year? How are you doing? Wait! You can tell me everything as soon as I get there.”
“There? Here? You mean you’re in Arizona?”
“Unless hell decided to bake Mankato, I’m in Arizona. I can’t wait to see you and Nate. Talk about a dream retirement job. Anyway, I’m at baggage claim at Sky Harbor and should be at your office in an hour. Got directions from Nate, plus the rental car will come with GPS.”
“Super. I’ll let Nate know. We can’t wait to see you, either.” And I’ll personally strangle your buddy for not telling me you were arriving today. “Keep cool.”
“Keep cool?” That was how I ended the call? That was the best I could come up with? What was I going to do when I actually saw him face to face? I reached for the small mirror I had tucked in my desk and studied my hair. It was okay. The blond highlights hadn’t suddenly faded and I looked all right. Then I had second thoughts and quickly added some blush to my cheeks, in case I didn’t have enough color from the sun. If that wasn’t enough, I applied lip gloss and sat staring at the computer like a seventeen-year-old girl who was just invited to the prom by the captain of the football team.
Nate sauntered into my office and reached for his iced coffee. Black. No cream. No sugar. He’d barely gotten it to his lips when the words flew out of my mouth.
“That was Marshall Gregory. He’s here. In Arizona. At the airport. Marshall Gregory.”
“Uh-oh. I knew I forgot to tell you something. Well, it’s not like we have to pick him up or anything. Guy’s renting a car. He’ll lease one or buy one as soon as he’s settled. I wasn’t expecting him until next week, but he was able to get everything taken care of in Mankato and didn’t want to hang around. Damn, it’s going to feel good having another investigator here. Oh, and before I forget one more thing, you got a message from your mother while you were at Quick Stop. Want me to read it? She insisted I write it down verbatim and I wasn’t about to argue with her. Remind me to increase Augusta’s hours. That’s what she gets paid to do.”
