by Rayna Morgan
SIZZLING COLD CASE
A Sister Sleuths Mystery
Book Seven
Rayna Morgan
Copyright © 2019 by Rayna Morgan
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
Ebook formatting by www.ebooklaunch.com
WHAT PEOPLE ARE SAYING
THE NUT CASE: PREQUEL NOVELLA
“Couldn’t put it down”
“Realistic characters and plenty of action”
“Excellent book, well written”
MURDER AT THE PIER
“Great twists and turns”
“Unique story line”
“Can’t wait for the next book in the series”
MURDER: ACT TWO
“You’re in for a treat”
“Characters are colorful, interesting, and full of energy”
“Entertaining and intriguing”
MURDER WESTERN STYLE
“As quick and deadly as a sidewinder”
“A galloping good read”
“Enjoyed from start to finish”
THREE-DAY WEEKENDS ARE MURDER
“Excellent pace with excitement throughout”
“Details and motivation are real and driven”
“The ending was a big surprise”
MURDER AFTER HOURS
“Plot twists kept me in the dark until the ending”
“Liked the relationship between the two sisters”
“Well written with good character development”
HIT AND RUN
“Was hooked on the first page”
“Fast paced and exciting mystery”
“A big surprise at the end”
CONTENTS
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
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CHAPTER ONE
It was opening day of the Conley Austin Detective Agency. Lea did not expect a new client the first day of doing business. Nor did she expect that person would open a Pandora’s box of painful memories. But that’s who showed up.
• • • • •
Lea woke filled with excitement. Working with her sister and father doing what she loved was a dream come true.
Instead of her normal work-from-home attire of sweatpants and t-shirts, she put on her favorite tailored suit.
After applying minimal makeup to flawless skin, she twisted her hair in a braided bun. Yielding to her practical nature, she chose comfortable shoes and threw jeans and a sweatshirt in a backpack.
Paul looked over her shoulder as he kissed her on the neck. “Preparing for undercover work?”
“You never know. It’s best to be prepared.”
“I rousted Jon out of bed and turned on the coffee pot. Have you talked to the dogs about their change in routine?”
“I informed Spirit and Gracie they may go with me to the office as long as they stay out of trouble.”
“That’s funny because I told them to keep you out of trouble.”
“I guess we’ll keep each other out of trouble.”
“You’re in the wrong business for that.”
She brushed his cheek with a kiss. “I appreciate your support.”
“It’s easier for me to give knowing your father will be present. Are he and Barbara settled in their new home?”
“We’re going to their condo soon for a housewarming.” She noted Paul’s look of alarm. “Don’t worry; Mom won’t be cooking. She’s already discovered a takeout place.”
Downstairs in the kitchen, she found her son smothering a slice of toast with peanut butter.
“I know better than to expect bacon and eggs for breakfast any longer,” Jon said.
“Will that fill you up?”
“Dad’s taking me to school. We’ll go through a drive-through if I’m still hungry.” He grabbed his backpack. “Are we having pizza for dinner?”
“Nice try, but our routine isn’t changing that much.”
After Paul and Jon left, Lea scrubbed vegetables and placed them in a crock pot with meat, setting the timer to cook all day.
Opening the door to the garage, she called the dogs. “C’mon, you two.”
The pets raced in circles, eager to start their job as detective agency mascots.
As she drove from the house, Lea considered how easily she resumed the morning routine of her previous corporate job. However, there was a difference. Excitement, not anxiety, caused her stomach flutters today.
Still, she had doubts.
Am I crazy to do this? Will the agency succeed?
As she weaved her way through traffic, her mind filled with questions.
Should I have stayed with the guaranteed income of my writing career? Jon will graduate from high school in three years. We need more money for his college education.
If I don’t carry my share of the financial load, am I being selfish to follow my heart in this manner?
At the midtown exit, her doubts were replaced by a feeling of exhilaration.
My first day at the Conley and Austin Detective Agency.
I have no idea how this venture may turn out. At least, I won’t have regrets about a road not taken.
• • •
Maddy locked the door of her beach cottage, inhaling invigorating ocean air as she admired her neighbor’s roses.
“You going to the furniture store early today?” the woman asked.
“Not until later. It’s the first official day of the detective agency. Wish me luck!”
It had given Maddy pleasure to apply her skills to her sister’s request for the grooviest office in town. After working late the previous night putting finishing touches on the decor, she anticipated the oohs and ahhs she would receive from Lea and Warren.
As she drove toward midtown, she questioned again the feasibility of taking a position at the agency. Unwilling to give up her job as an interior designer at a local furniture store, she decided to juggle two careers.
Maddy knew Lea understood her need to ex
press herself artistically. It was their only similarity besides closeness in age-Maddy being older by a year.
Based on appearance, no one would think they were sisters. Maddy’s brunette, shoulder-length hair and fuller body differed from her sister’s long, red hair and slim physique. Her athletic ability and keen interest in sports was a marked contrast to Lea’s inability to shoot a basket or sink a putt.
In matters of the heart, Maddy had survived a cheating husband and a painful divorce. She was left with no desire to marry again. Lea, on the other hand, was a sure bet to stay married to Paul the rest of her life.
Their view of life also differed. Lea was an idealist and a perfectionist. With strict ideas of right and wrong, she could get on a soap box about justice at the drop of a hat. Maddy was easy-going, living in the moment with little concern for the future of mankind.
Still, she couldn’t deny her excitement at the thought of being part of a detective agency. She loved the adventures she and Lea shared in the past. With their father involved, it would only get better.
Stopping at a gas station, she called the furniture store to ensure the schedule reflected her switch to late shifts. Her revised hours allowed her to show up at Conley and Austin on a regular basis, at least until they got the agency off the ground.
My only regret is spending less time with Tom, she thought.
Waiting for a turn at the pump, she considered her relationship with Tom Elliot, Paul’s best friend.
After moving away from the toxic environment of a big city and a status driven ex-husband, she rediscovered herself in Buena Viaje and entered a new relationship.
Now Tom seems intent on pushing us to the next level, a step I feel oddly unready to take.
The driver behind her honked. She waved and advanced to the pump.
• • •
Back on the freeway, she suddenly experienced the jitters Lea was prone to. Bowing to the sweet tooth triggered by her nerves, she decided to stop for donuts.
A man brushed past her as she entered the shop.
Stepping to the counter, she looked back over her shoulder. She only got a glimpse, but the man’s hair and the way he walked seemed familiar.
It can’t be, she thought.
She watched as he stepped into an SUV and drove away.
“What can I get for you?”
She turned her attention to the cashier.
• • •
Warren poured a cup of coffee and carried it to the deck of the condominium.
As he leaned over the railing, Barbara joined him and draped an arm across his shoulder.
“Are you glad our daughters talked us into moving?” she asked.
“Don’t pretend innocence. You took part in their conspiracy.”
“That may be true, but you didn’t require a great deal of convincing.”
He gazed at the sailboats in the harbor and listened to sounds of creaking boats, hollering fishermen, and squawking seagulls.
“No, indeed. This is where we belong now.”
They heard a knocking at the door.
“I’ll go,” Barbara said. “Stay and enjoy your coffee.”
He heard an exchange between Barbara and two women welcoming them on behalf of the association. Before he could intervene, his wife extended an invitation.
“Come in for coffee,” she urged the visitors.
Warren sighed and went inside for introductions.
The women sat on the sofa, twisting from side to side to look at white furnishings and colored accessories.
“The way you furnished your condo is lovely,” one commented.
“Any credit goes to my daughter,” Barbara said hastily. “We’ve owned most of these furnishings for years. Following Maddy’s suggestions, we transformed them into a modern look and feel at minimal expense.”
Warren reluctantly took a seat as Barbara continued.
“I worried we wouldn’t fit in a condo after living in a two-story house so many years,” she said, “but my daughters helped. We held a garage sale and got rid of all sorts of things we no longer use.”
“You conveniently did it when I was speaking at a policemen’s convention,” Warren grumbled. “I never would have agreed to give up some things you disposed of.”
“Honestly, dear,” she scoffed. “Your father’s rusted tools. Magazines dating back ten years you never got around to reading. Your moth-eaten high school letter sweater.”
“At least you didn’t throw out my baseball cards. Some of those cards are old enough to be collector items.”
“You made your grandson happy giving him the collection, although they couldn’t mean as much to him. He doesn’t know half those players.”
“Every kid knows the great players,” Warren muttered.
Before she could respond, he continued. “You’re no better. What about all those plastic containers and the kitchen utensils you never used?”
She looked at their guests. “Excuse me while I get the coffee. Will you help, dear?” she asked, glaring at her husband.
After closing the door to the adjoining room, she faced her husband. “What’s got your dandruff up?”
“Those two old ladies.”
“You mean the welcoming committee?”
“I mean those busybodies. They couldn’t wait to knock on our door the minute we settled in. They’re here to check us out. To decide if we’ll fit in.”
She managed a small smile. “Well, perhaps. But it wouldn’t hurt you to try.”
“Try what?”
“To fit in. To be hospitable.”
“I’ve never worried about fitting in or being accepted a day in my life. I’m not about to start now.”
“And watch who you call old ladies. I’ll soon fall into that category.”
“It’s not about lines on a person’s face. I’m talking about attitude and motives for doing things. Nosy is nosy. They remind me of one of your other friends.”
“I assume you’re referring to Ida Allen.”
“Yes. Lea’s neighbor. Before we even unpacked, she was here catching you up on the latest gossip around town.”
“You’re being harsh. Ida’s interest in people is more than curiosity. She cares about their well-being.”
Warren waved a dismissive hand. “Call it what you will.”
“What do you call it?” she asked.
“I call it part good will and part curiosity. The curiosity part exceeds the good will.”
“Are you suggesting curiosity isn’t part of your investigations?”
“That’s not the same. Not the same thing at all. I use it in the name of justice.”
She turned to the coffee maker. “Call it what you will. I call it part good policing and part curiosity.”
She poured the hot beverage into a thermos and handed it to him. “Isn’t it time to open the doors on your new enterprise?”
“Are you trying to get rid of me?”
“Yes, dear, I am.” She kissed his cheek. “I’ll give our visitors your apologies.”
He pulled his keys from a hook on the wall and walked out the door.
• • •
Sam Swanson sat at the dining table in his luxurious home twenty miles north of Buena Viaje. The housekeeper set a plate with a poached egg and toast in front of him.
“Would you like some of my homemade jam?” she asked.
“None for him, Millie. You know the doctor’s instructions about his diabetes. We don’t want another rush to the hospital with a heart attack, do we?”
“No, madam.”
“Besides, he could stand to lose a few pounds.”
The order was issued by a young woman kept trim by exercise trainers and tennis.
Sam frowned at his wife as he reached for the newspaper. He pulled out several pages and slid them across the table.
“Here’s the entertainment section. I assume that’s all you’re interested in.”
She lowered her head. “Don’t be hurtful, de
ar.”
Without reaching for the paper, she continued. “Speaking of entertainment, when are you taking me to the new restaurant everyone’s raving about?”
“It can’t be this week. We have prospective clients coming to tour our facilities. My dining out will be limited to entertaining them.”
A moody silence followed, one he was used to. “Buy yourself a fancy dress. Next week, I’ll take you anywhere you want.”
She perked up and he turned back to his newspaper.
A moment later, he pointed to a picture of a ribbon-cutting ceremony. “There’s a new business in town. The Conley and Austin Detective Agency.”
She made no response.
He continued. “Conley as in Warren Conley, formerly with the San Diego Police Department.”
She looked down the long table at her husband. After a moment, she spoke in a flat tone.
“The policeman who investigated your daughter’s death.”
“You mean my daughter’s murder.”
Again, she made no response.
He folded the paper and called a number on his phone.
“I’ll be late this morning,” he told his secretary. “I have things to take care of.”
His wife stared daggers as he walked from the room.
• • •
Rod Turner rubbed his receding hairline. Baldness was unusual for a man his age, but he blamed his loss of hair on more than genetics as he scattered the pile of unpaid bills on his desk.
I don’t understand what’s happening. There’s barely enough money to pay these invoices. Next week, the payroll is due.
He stared out to the yard where workers cleaned a truck with the signage Turner Pest Control.
I hate to let another employee go. I’m already down to a skeleton crew. These guys are working overtime to get the jobs done.
He looked at a framed picture of a woman with two small children. Guilt washed over him as he turned the photo away.
I want to share my wife’s joy over being pregnant, but it couldn’t have come at a worse time.
He opened a drawer and pulled out a business card.
Before he dialed the number, he closed his door.
• • •
Tom Elliot walked into the kitchen of the small apartment he rented after his divorce several years ago.
Through the walls, he heard the couple next door yelling at their kids. The shouting was an improvement over the music blaring the night before which kept him awake until early morning hours.
