The Lush Life (Samantha Jamison Mystery Book 8)

by Peggy A. Edelheit

  Betty looked up. “Has anyone seen Lucas around?”

  We couldn’t afford a repeat visit. He’d get suspicious.

  “I pulled the plug on the garage opener,” said Martha.

  “That was risky,” I said. “You could’ve fallen.”

  “There was no hesitation on my part. I knew all the risks involved. But I appreciate your concern.”

  “Ha!” said Hazel. “She didn’t say that when she asked me to do it instead. She knows I despise heights. I could’ve landed on the Jeep’s canvas ragtop and broken something.”

  “Yeah, like the Jeep’s roof,” laughed Martha.

  “We have weightier issues to deal with,” chided Betty.

  Martha chuckled. “Hard to ignore the obvious.”

  “You’re comportment! Such ignominy!” Hazel scolded.

  Martha turned to me. “Hey, did she just swear at me?”

  I was about to say something when the doorbell buzzed. I turned to stare out the great room doors directly across from the foyer to the front door. It rang again. What now?

  “Another guest? We’re flush with a full house already.”

  “You don’t suppose...” said Betty.

  “Now, what are the chances...?” Hazel asked.

  The third time it rang I found my legs and moved.

  Martha grabbed her phone. “I’m taking a picture.”

  “Good,” said Hazel. “Or the others won’t believe this.”

  “What if it’s Tony’s crazy mother?” warned Betty.

  “Grab that heavy dictionary,” ordered Martha, pointing.

  “And hide behind the front door with it,” added Hazel.

  “Don’t get carried away, ladies,” I said unconvincingly.

  Martha smacked her forehead. “What was I thinking? I forgot. People don’t get shot at in broad daylight, do they?”

  “Touché,” I said, remembering my close warning shot.

  I whispered over to Hazel, “Go grab a large vase.”

  When everyone was in place, I opened the door slowly.

  A deliveryman asked, “Are you Samantha Jamison?”

  After I nodded, he handed me a blood-red vase filled with one dozen red roses. “...Uh, thanks,” I stammered.

  He chuckled. “This sender has a real sense of humor.”

  I shut the door then read the card out loud.

  “Roses R red, Violets R blue. Bang! I almost got U.”

  “Just what I needed before my interview with Scarlett.”

  Chapter 36

  Interview Interrupted

  First thing I noted, Scarlett was anxious. Her foot was tapping a mile a minute on the floor, as she kept glancing down to reread from her notepad resting on her lap. Why the unease? I was the one being scrutinized here. Or did she think she was? Was she worried I was analyzing her? Was Scarlett a potential suspect? With several mysteries under my belt, I noticed I had that effect on people. She did admit it was her first interview with an author of my stature.

  My stature? I had to laugh at that. No pretention here.

  I did just fine as an author. I had a great agent, terrific editor, and a reliable publisher. I wrote for my enjoyment and my readers, who loved my mysteries and blog posts, leaving enthusiastic comments on my website.

  With that in mind, I said, “I’m ready when you are.”

  Scarlett gave me an eager smile. “Why mysteries?”

  So I explained about my husband Stephen’s suspicious death, the unanswered questions I wanted explained, doing my own investigation, how I couldn’t move on until I knew the why of it all...

  “Was there any apprehension or reluctance about taking on that task by yourself and what you might uncover?”

  “At first, yes, but then the more I dug into his past, the more I learned about myself, as well as our relationship. It was a learning curve I never would have experienced if I didn’t take a leap of faith about my own ability in solving the mystery. I always took a backseat to my husband. With him gone I had no choice but to sit in the driver’s seat. It was self-enlightening to say the least.”

  “What did you gain from that?”

  “Self-respect and self-confidence.”

  “Were you ever plagued with self-doubt at any time?”

  I laughed. “Just about every time I bungled an interview or blew an opportunity when it fell in my lap.”

  “What did you lose from that experience?”

  I smiled. “I lost my helpless attitude.”

  “What did you gain?”

  I didn’t hesitate. “Insane and crazy friends I cherish.”

  “I notice how you tend to sit back, listen, and constantly watch people.”

  “I’m always looking for dialogue, deceit, and evasion.”

  “So when you’re solving a mystery, that helps?”

  “Absolutely. You’d be surprised how people trip up.”

  “In what way?”

  “Can’t keep their lies straight, get overconfident...”

  “Like you explain in your mystery series.”

  “Exactly. I’m always watching how people react.”

  “To what?”

  “When I push the parameters of their safety zone.”

  Scarlett laughed. “Do you have a safety zone of your own?”

  “I have a line in the sand that gets redrawn daily.”

  “Who’s shocked most at the end? You? Your suspect?”

  This time I laughed. “My readers!”

  Okay, so I lied. Even I’m shocked sometimes...

  Scarlett’s cell rang. She glanced at it, frowned and said, “Excuse me. I must take this call.”

  Chapter 37

  Deja Vu Revisited

  I left her, and wandered outside. I chose the small, black, wrought iron bistro table for two located just outside the kitchen windows adjacent to the shelter of the porte cochere in the shadows of the house. Although protected, it gave me a magnificent view of all the rear gardens and remaining back property.

  Since the weather was sunny and breezy I grabbed my laptop to sit and take some notes while sipping a glass of iced tea. Robins and Blue Jays constantly chirping and an occasional whinny from the horses next door in their corral completed my backdrop.

  Besides, I wasn’t stupid. That table was a whole lot safer than walking out in open areas and more preferable than sitting in Alicia’s office. After settling in, I began typing some notes.

  What was so urgent to cut Scarlett’s interview short?

  You’d think Scarlett would have ignored that call. That meant maybe my interview wasn’t that high on her list of accomplishments. Who was it? My mindset on this woman needed tweaking. Originally, I felt sure she was duped, but after that unfinished interview I wasn’t so convinced.

  What was Tony’s real motive?

  To distract us or motivate us to find that book for him?

  Who sent those red roses and that note?

  The emails, texts, and delivered red roses: untraceable. Earlier, I had checked with the florist’s two busy clerks. Someone came into the shop, ordered the flowers, and paid cash. The customer had worn sunglasses, hat, bulky clothes, and, according to them, was totally unrecognizable. Neither were sure about gender. The buyer whispered it was a practical joke and that I’d find their note humorous.

  I paused and stared down at my keyboard to my laptop, noticing for the first time I’d worn the edges off the keys of my colon, my comma, my period, and my question mark.

  Hmm... Symbolic of my life, I guess: another paradox!

  I was still brooding when someone spoke, startling me.

  “Mind if I join you?”

  I nearly knocked my tea onto my keyboard.

  “Don’t you have a home?” I said, surprised to see him.

  Tony sat across from me with his own iced tea.

  “Clay canceled our plans to meet me here. Some kind of emergency. Martha offered iced tea, thinking I needed to chill out about my mother and all.”

>   I felt like asking him what and all was. That book? Me? But then, knowing Tony, I figured he’d get to that sooner or later. Though seldom vague, most of the time he kept it on the money. Now, he was taking his sweet old time.

  I laughed at my own unintentional pun.

  “What’s so funny?” he asked.

  “I’m sitting across from you, drinking iced tea, and for once no money or gun is involved between us.”

  He lip curled up slightly. “Hey, the day is still young.”

  “I need protection, not sarcasm. I’m wearing a target.”

  “I heard,” Tony said, sipping more of his tea.

  He looked up, then smiled when I said, “You’ve been eavesdropping.”

  Still skittish about being out in the open, but craving it, I kept scanning the perimeter of the back area.

  I caught Tony watching me intently. He was reading my thoughts about his mother being behind this.

  “Don’t worry. She won’t shoot. I’m too close to you.”

  My eyes jerked to him. “So she’s not that good.”

  Tony laughed then turned serious. “Look, we both know we’re talking about my mother, who’s still on the loose.”

  Was my last mystery about art fraud still an issue?

  “I had nothing to do with her losing her money!”

  “Don’t take it so personal. She just went crazy.”

  “But I don’t like being at the top of her get-even list.”

  “We won’t know that for sure until we find her, right?”

  “It’s amazing both of you got off on a technicality.”

  Tony began scanning the area too. “Hey, we didn’t kill anyone. Don’t be so jumpy. I’m here and I’m still her son.”

  “Her favorite one?” I asked, taking another sip of tea.

  “Her only one. A hit to me would shave off her lineage.”

  “Is that important to her?”

  “Sure. Especially since she cut down my old man.”

  I set my glass down. “You’re joking.”

  “It was accidental. At least that’s what she told me.”

  And her definition of accidental? “What happened?”

  “She claims he got caught in her crosshairs.”

  “Her crosshairs?”

  “Her intended target.”

  I was almost afraid to ask. “And who was her target?”

  “My mother thought his mistress was a robber attacking him in their bed. Said it reminded her of that old proverb.”

  I knew I’d regret it, but asked anyway. “Which one?”

  “That famous one: killing two birds with one stone.”

  I sighed. “You think your mother is really crazy?”

  “I don’t think, I know. But she’s still my mother.”

  “How can I relax with her still out there?”

  “Stick with me. I’m in the protection business.”

  I was sure he was, being connected and all.

  A loud twig snapped from near the corner of the garage. Tony put his finger to his lips, got up, placed his hand inside his jacket then silently took off in that direction. Was it his mother? I packed up and dashed inside, more than a little uneasy. Why was Tony suddenly protecting me? I waited for a full ten minutes from the safety of inside, peering out from the curtains, but Tony never returned.

  I kept repeating, book and suspect, over and over...

  Both were hiding in plain sight, weren’t they?

  Chapter 38

  Going Batty

  Mona was taking everyone out for dinner in New Hope at Marsha Brown’s for some Creole cooking. I was beat and begged off, after returning the last of the collectable books to the family room shelves. We rechecked them, verifying their value with the book sites and past auctions.

  I knew the ladies were looking forward to going out. Mona also managed to get Scarlett and Teddy to go too. I didn’t think there was enough money out there to make me accept babysitting that group, bonus included. This was round two of Mona taking one for the team.

  Clay returned shortly after Tony disappeared and headed straight for Chris’ office to make a few calls, still chasing down leads on Tony’s mother. That was probably why Clay had taken off earlier by himself, hence Tony bugging me.

  I never got to speak with Clay about my sit down with Tony that afternoon, but would make a point of it tonight. I couldn’t believe we had a few hours alone to talk later on.

  I passed by Clay, saying, “I’m going up to shower.”

  I took the stairway to the master bedroom, reading an email on my phone, opened our bedroom door then shut it.

  Then I heard Clay yell from downstairs.

  “Holy shit! There’s a bat in the house!”

  I stopped cold and peeked out, yelling, “What? Where?”

  “It just flew down these stairs!”

  I sucked in air. I had just walked up those stairs checking emails and had walked right passed it. My mind refused to accept that, so I yelled back to him reassuringly.

  “It was probably just a bird that got into the house.”

  I could deal with a bird. But a bat? Uh-uh.

  “Sam, I know the difference between a bat and a bird!”

  Then panicky thoughts gripped me. Could it be rabid? Where did it come from? One of the chimneys? No, there were chimney caps on them. I yelled down to Clay from behind the safety of our bedroom door, “Where is it now?”

  He called out, “When I approached the first step to come upstairs it flew down passed me over my head. I don’t know where it went! I don’t see it anywhere down here.”

  Well, there are two rooms in that area: Alicia’s office and Chris’s, then the hallway leads from that office to the rest of the house. I cautiously made my way down the steps and we both searched the two offices from top to bottom: Clay did the heavy lifting and moving. I gave instructions.

  Isn’t that the way it’s supposed to be?

  We then proceeded to check the rest of the house and were walking back to the two offices when we noticed the basement door wide open.

  “Let’s go,” said Clay. “We should check down there.”

  I stared at him like he was a snake with two heads.

  “What do you mean, we?”

  “You’re kidding, right? You write murder mysteries!”

  I gritted my teeth and gestured, “You first, my good man. I’ve got your back.”

  Clay shook his head, walking down. I followed closely. You guessed it. No bat. We made our way back up to our bedroom. After we shut the stairway door to our bedroom, I repeated, “Are you sure it wasn’t a bird?”

  “Remember that barn in New Hampshire?”

  He was right. We house-sat a horse farm a while back with a large barn. Bats were always congregating in the cupola at the top. He could identify one.

  Then I remembered. “Oh, I almost forgot. I left my laptop on. Let me go and shut it off.”

  I turned on the light and descended the stairway, stepped off the last step at the bottom, made the turn into my office and guess what flew right by in front of me? You guessed it, that damn bat. I began screaming like a wild woman.

  I think they heard me all the way in California.

  I raced out and smacked right into Clay, who rushed in. I shoved him into his office.

  “Get it out! Now! I can’t believe I’ve been going in and out of that office all night to check emails and that creature was in there with me! He still is! Find it and get rid of it before it disappears again!”

  Clay approached my office door and walked through, while I followed peeking over his shoulder. The minute he turned on all the overhead lights that bat went crazy flying back and forth across my office. I screamed again, turned and promptly slammed my office door shut leaving Clay in in there with me yelling, “Don’t let him escape!”

  I heard all kinds of commotion then nothing. Silence.

  Then I heard, “I can’t find him.”

  I leaned against the door d
umbfounded.

  “...What? He’s got to be in there!”

  “Well, he’s not in here anywhere.”

  I whipped the door open. “We just can’t leave him in there! That’s way too creepy.”

  “I agree,” he said. “You’ll have bat shit and urine all over the place in no time.”

  After a few minutes of silence, he said, “We might as well go up to bed. He’s not there.”

  I looked back at him. “Over my dead body! You expect me to write in there?”

  I couldn’t even picture that bat relieving himself either. Clay smirked. I knew he was daring me to come up with an alternative. I marched passed him right into my office.

  “We are finding him together and tonight!”

  Clay grabbed a flashlight and started looking under furniture, behind my bookcase... Me? I’m a Virgo: very methodical. I started with the first thing on the perimeter of my office: blinds first. Nothing.

  Next, my closed drapes. While keeping my body as far away as I could, I reached out and vigorously shook the heavy drapes back and forth. Out tumbled the bat rolling onto the carpet. He went airborne and so did I, right out of my office, slamming the door firmly behind me.

  “Get him out! I know you can see him now!” I shouted through the closed office door.

  I heard commotion and cursing from the other side.

  I wasn’t sure if it was Clay or the bat.

  I was so proud of my brave Clay, duking it out in there. Of course, I was hanging onto the doorknob tightly. So even if Clay did try to open it, he couldn’t.

  He had a job to do and by golly he was going to do it!

  “Grab a towel from the powder room in there and trap him in it,” I suggested.

  I heard more commotion then one of the French doors being opened then I heard Clay’s footsteps outside then that same door closing shut.

  Suddenly, the office door separating the two offices was ripped from my grasp. Clay stood there grinning, flushed from his victory.

  “He’s out!”

  I jumped into his arms and kept kissing him repeatedly.

  “My hero has done it again!”

  Then I winked, batted my eyelashes, and invited Clay upstairs to our bedroom with a come-hither seductive look.