Love Can Be Murder (boxed set of humorous mysteries)

by Stephanie Bond

  "It's okay," he said gently. "You don't have to explain. What matters is that you're okay. When we found the opening in the gate, and the tools you'd left behind...I thought the worst."

  "I was terrified," she admitted, still reeling over what could have happened and no one would have been the wiser. "Thank you, B.J., for coming when you did."

  He bit into his lip, then winked. "Get dressed, babe. This nightmare is over."

  Chapter Thirty-two

  If the recipe is a success, pass it on...

  MARIE AND PENNY SAT at the juice counter and watched as the voodoo festival banner that had been stretched across Charm Street was taken down.

  "This town will never be the same," Marie said, sipping from her juice glass.

  "So true," Penny said. And neither would she.

  "Do you think they'll have the festival next year?"

  "I don't know." The fact that Allyson and her little club had been using the festival as a way to attract victims and to fence their gruesome contraband wasn't exactly Chamber of Commerce ad copy. “The town has a lot of healing to do."

  "And how amazing that Jodi Reynolds is Sheena's sister."

  Penny made a rueful noise. "Apparently, Sheena changed her name when she was a teenager and moved away from her family. Jodi came to Mojo looking for her, but was kidnapped before she found Sheena."

  Marie shook her head. "I just can't believe all these gruesome things happened in a town like Mojo."

  It was national news. The little town famous for its Instruments of Death and Voodoo Museum was now infamous for the things that had gone on within the museum's walls. The governor was sending a task force to have the entire house analyzed for DNA that might be linked to open missing persons cases.

  "And Sheena Linder is really Ruth Reynolds. Wow, I would never change my name—would you?"

  A little smile curved Penny's mouth. "I certainly understand why some people do it."

  Jodi was the reason B.J. had stopped at Sheena's house the first day Penny had seen him. He'd asked Sheena if she was Ruth Reynolds, and she'd slammed the door in his face. The next time, he'd gone back with personal items of Jodi's her grandmother had given him—a pair of shoes Sheena had sent to her sister and a videotape of Jodi's graduation, to try to soften Sheena and convince her Jodi might have been in the vicinity of Mojo when she'd disappeared.

  Sheena had been afraid Deke would discover what she considered to be her low-class history and later, had shunned the cameras so no one from her past would recognize her. But the sisters were together now, and from what Penny had heard, Sheena was a changed woman. Indeed, she had changed her mind about suing Penny for the broken tailbone when she'd learned Penny was the person who had rescued her sister from the Torture Tower, as it was being called. And more surprisingly, Sheena had handed over all the documentation on the assets that Deke had hidden during the property settlement.

  Penny squinted. As it turned out, she and Sheena had more in common that she ever would’ve guessed. Maybe the possibility existed she and the woman would become friends. Then she tucked her tongue into her cheek.

  Nah.

  The only glitch in the case was Allyson Davis hadn’t given up other members of the "club," so for now, she and Dr. Troy Archambault were the only people charged, and Troy had abjectly denied knowledge of the cadaver enterprise that was being run out of his family's former home. Jodi Reynolds and the other woman, Giselle Taylor, related unspeakable acts on up to a dozen people they had been held with and who had subsequently "disappeared." Penny wondered if Mona was somehow involved, but she would leave the rest of the detective work to the police. Still, it was odd that Mona had withdrawn her opposition to Penny's garden.

  Jimmy Scaggs had been freed, and the last Penny heard, Henry would be well enough by next year to hunt the bumper crop of black truffles Jimmy was expecting. Diane Davidson had taken care of Henry while Jimmy had been incarcerated, and the couple had been seen around town together. Admittedly, they seemed like a good fit.

  Although what did Penny know about relationships?

  "So, who made the Deke voodoo doll?" Marie asked, breaking into her thoughts.

  "We may never know." Although Penny had someone in mind.

  Guy walked through the showroom wearing a John Deere ball cap and a camouflage shirt, a la Jimmy Scaggs. But the look was somehow compromised by the pink iPod clipped to his military belt.

  "Some mysteries will never be solved," Marie muttered.

  Penny smiled. "Did you hear that Gloria Dalton is moving to Mojo?"

  "Your divorce attorney?"

  "She's decided to turn down the D.A.'s job offer and take over Deke's practice."

  "Think she can make it in a small town?"

  "We'll see."

  "Guess we'll be getting a new chief of police."

  "Looks like it," Penny said, shuddering. Allyson Davis's depravity was almost inconceivable.

  "Are you going to sell your story?" Marie asked. "You are the bravest person I know, boss."

  Penny scoffed. "Save your admiration for the cops and investigators who search for missing persons. I just happened to be in the right garden at the right time."

  "Speaking of investigators," Marie said in a singsong voice, "have you seen B.J.?"

  Penny's heart gave a little tug every time she heard his name. "Not since the day of the bust at the museum." It had been traumatic for both of them. Emotions had been running high...too high for any rational conversation. "I've talked to him on the phone a couple of times. He's very busy with all the sudden attention his agency is getting."

  "He looks like that and he's filthy rich," Marie said dreamily. "He's too good to be true."

  "Kind of like Kirk?" Penny asked, taking a sip from her glass.

  Marie suddenly seemed fascinated by her cuticles. "Kind of."

  The door chime sounded and Jules walked in, seemingly light on her feet this morning, swinging her walking stick.

  "Good morning, Jules," they said in unison.

  "Bonjour, ladies," Jules sang, her voice strong. "I came for my morning elixir."

  "Coming right up," Marie said.

  "How are you doing this morning?" Penny asked.

  "Right as rain," the old woman said. "How about you?"

  Penny thought about it, then nodded. "I'm good, actually."

  Jules pointed her finger. "Take care of your unfinished business and you'll feel better."

  Marie looked at Penny and lifted her eyebrows.

  Penny leaned into the counter. "Jules, you wouldn't happen to know anything about a voodoo doll made in the likeness of my ex-husband, would you?"

  Jules pursed her wrinkled mouth and shook her head. "Not me."

  "Or a little red toy car?"

  "Nope."

  "Someone breaking into my apartment to clean?"

  "Nope."

  "A snake in my bed?"

  "Nope." The old woman shook a gnarled finger. "But I warned you about a serpent being underfoot."

  Penny frowned. "What about Deke's coffin falling?"

  "Nope."

  "Hm," Penny said, studying the woman intently. "I guess it was all just coincidence."

  "Nothing is coincidence," Jules said. "Things happen because you want them to happen—"

  "Or because they need to happen," Penny finished.

  "Right," Jules said with an emphatic nod.

  Penny narrowed her eyes. Need to happen...like when she hadn't taken the hint of letting the crumpled toy car lead her to Deke's car, the coffin had been compromised as a second hint? Like if Allyson hadn't used a garden stake to frame Penny, she might not have been restaking her garden at just the right moment to see the distress signal from the cupola?

  "Jules, you are a wise woman," Penny murmured in wonder. “Excuse me."

  She retreated to her office where she paced, practicing deep breathing techniques as her mind churned. Finally, she picked up her cell phone and punched in a number. While the rings sounded,
she wiped her clammy hands on her jeans.

  "Cumberland Federal Women's Facility."

  "Hello," Penny said. "I...I'd like to arrange a phone call with an inmate, please. Anita Frank."

  "I'll need the inmate number and date of birth."

  Penny recited the information she knew by heart.

  "And what is your name?"

  She closed her eyes briefly. "Just tell her it's Penny."

  "And for when would you would like to arrange the call?"

  "As soon as possible, please."

  She was given instructions on when to call back for a response. When she hung up, she felt as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. If her mother didn't want to communicate, that would be her decision, but at least Penny could rest in the knowledge that she'd made an effort to forge some kind of relationship.

  She picked up a burlap bag from her desk, then walked out into the showroom. "If anyone needs me, I'll be in the garden."

  She walked outside, thinking how quickly the weather changed this time of year. Cool and dry, it was great for late fall planting. She surveyed the expanse of the newly tilled black soil and sighed with pleasure. This time next year her garden should be yielding produce every single day. She expected to hire more people, attract new commercial business, and become a mainstay of the community.

  She bit her lip as she stared at the roof of the Archambault mansion. She only hoped the town would be able to compensate for the tourist dollars it would lose while the museum was shut down—especially if it never reopened. And until the full extent of the torture and cadaver ring was revealed, everyone in Mojo would look at their friends and neighbors a little differently.

  Penny inhaled deeply and expelled a cleansing exhale. No matter what the future brought, she was going to embrace it. There was nothing like a brush with death to make one appreciate living. She picked a nice fresh spot of dirt near the end of the plot and crouched down, running her fingers through the fertile soil.

  The Charm Kit to Bury the Past she’d received for her divorce party instructed her to place items representing situations she wanted to be reconciled in her life in a burlap bag with the aromatic packet of herbs provided. She had selected a picture of her and her brothers when they were young, her father's pipe, a single earring her mother had given her when she was little to play dress up, the letter Wendy had written apologizing for her long-ago affair with Deke, and the pewter lovebirds ornament Deke had given her. Satisfied with her assembly, she dug a hole as deep as she could with her hands and buried the bag under handfuls of black soil, repeating positive mantras like, "The past is gone, the only thing I can change is the future."

  Maybe voodoo and magic were just a figment of one's imagination, but if the belief brought peace, what was the harm? Afterward, she stood, content with where she was headed with her life, resolute to mend broken relationships where possible, and hopeful for a future relationship with a loving man.

  "Hello."

  Penny turned to see B.J. walking toward her on the perimeter of the garden, as tall and handome as ever. Her heart, frivolous thing, starting beating wildly. "Hello," she managed in a relatively calm voice.

  "Looks nice," he said, nodding toward the cleared land that went up to the fence around the Archambault mansion.

  "Thanks, I'm really happy with it."

  He smiled. "Good. I like to see you happy." His mouth turned down suddenly. "I can't stop thinking about what might have happened if I hadn't gotten there when I did."

  She turned to face him. "But you did get there, and I'm fine."

  His eyes softened. "I would have looked for you."

  She frowned. "Hm?"

  "I was listening to the conversation between you and Allyson before you walked down to the basement. I wasn't in position to get to you, but I heard what she said about you not having anyone who would look for you if you disappeared. That’s not true—I would've looked for you. And I wouldn't have stopped looking until I found you."

  Tears welled in her eyes—he couldn't possibly know what those words meant to her. She didn't know what to say, didn't want him to think she thought it meant he was in love with her. "Thank you."

  He cleared his throat and looked out over the garden again, this time gesturing. "This isn't going to work."

  Proud of her garden, she bristled. "Why not?"

  "Because I was just asked to lead the task force the governor is sending to the museum to try to solve open missing persons cases."

  She gasped, uncaring if her feelings for him were too obvious. "You'll be working in Mojo?"

  "And living." He grinned sheepishly. "I realize I have to be near you."

  Her heart took flight, but she reeled it back in. "What does that have to do with my garden?"

  "I don't plan to walk all the way around every time I want to see you," he said, pointing toward the fence. "So I was thinking if we put in a gate right about there, it would make life easier." Then he shrugged. "If you want."

  She leaped into his arms and kissed him with all the pent-up energy of missing him, wanting him, and needing him. When they pulled back, they were both flushed, and she was anticipating being in his arms tonight.

  "I love you, Penny." His voice was full of awe, as if he himself were surprised. "I think you worked some voodoo on me."

  She freed the restraints on her heart, allowing it to balloon in her chest. "I love you, too, Baron Jeffrey." At his surprised expression, she laughed. "You're not the only one who can investigate."

  His eyes danced with mischief. "I guess we have time now to get to know each other."

  She pressed her face into his shirt, so happy she was afraid to move. What happened next?

  "Say," he said, pulling back, "did you know if you crumble up bacon into tofu, it's not half bad?"

  She made a face. "That kind of defeats the purpose."

  "Hey, I'm trying to learn to compromise. But that means you have to eat a bag of potato chips once in a while."

  She thought of the replenished stash in her desk drawer and nodded. "I can do that."

  They walked over the garden holding hands. And Penny...she was showing a lot of gum.

  The End

  Book 3: Got Your Number

  a humorous romantic mystery

  by

  Stephanie Bond

  You can run, but your past will always catch up with you...

  Chapter One

  ROXANN BEADLEMAN’S scalp roasted, and she realized with a start that she was still wearing the red wig. Puffing out her cheeks at her carelessness, she yanked off the remainder of her disguise as she wedged her van Goldie into a parking space at Rigby's Diner, home of the Big Daddy Crab Plate. Rigby would fire her for sure. Waiting tables had never been her favorite gig, but the job had great benefits (Rigby's brother-in-law sold health insurance), and the schedule was flexible enough to accommodate her obligations to the Rescue program. Until this morning.

  She jumped out and bent at the waist to give her real hair—short and dark and plastered to her head—a lick and a promise with a vented brush. Biloxi, Mississippi, was celebrated for its sweltering heat, but she'd sort of expected a break by the twelfth day into the month of October. She slammed Goldie's door twice before it caught, then sprinted to the employee entrance of the diner.

  Shuttling the Lindberg family to the bus station had taken longer than she'd expected, mostly because the twin five-year-old boys had stripped down to their skivvies and tossed their clothes out the van windows. Twice. According to her travel watch (two faces to accommodate dual time zones), she was exactly one hour late.

  "You're an hour late,” Helen, the head waitress, confirmed when Roxann slid into the kitchen.

  "Car trouble." Not the first lie she'd told for a good cause.

  Helen clucked and balanced a third plate on her arm. "Imagine that, a twenty-five-year-old van giving you trouble." Helen was sixty, with the wit and legs of a coed.

  "Is Rigby angry?"

 
"Yeah, but I covered for you. Still, you'd better get shakin'. I need a couple of étoufée platters." Helen disappeared, then stuck her head back in, winking a mascara-laden eye. "And I almost forgot—there's a Steve McQueen type at table nine waiting to see you. Been here goin' on a half hour."

  Anxiety twinged low in her stomach. She peeked around the divider between the blistering kitchen and the crowded dining room, but her view was obstructed by the weekly gathering of the Morning Glory Ladies, sporting straw gardening hats and lingering in the aisle to say their farewells. Roxann ducked back to dish up the étoufée for Helen, her stomach growling at the tangy aroma of shellfish and cracked pepper.

  She didn't have a clue who the man might be. That one call Melissa Cape had made to Roxann's cell phone still had the potential of landing them both in the bayou if the woman's private investigator ex-husband made the connection. But in truth, any of the men in Roxann's life would have elicited the same gut-clutching response as Frank Cape.

  Her father? The sole reason Walt Beadleman left his La-Z-Boy in the tiny living room of the tiny house in Baton Rouge was to cast for channel cats in the Mississippi River. He'd never think of floating on down to Biloxi to see his only child who was such a monumental disappointment, unless someone in the family had dropped dead.

  Her most recent lover? The last time she'd seen Richard Funderburk, he was spitting mad that she'd dare to confront him about his drinking. Then he'd simply disappeared—to a twelve-step program she'd hoped. Wasn't there a step about seeking forgiveness from those you'd wronged? He still owed her fifty bucks, the mooch. And at least as many orgasms.

  Her neighbor? Mr. Nealy had been hovering ever since her roommate and Rescue coworker Elise had wigged out, forcing Roxanne to ask Elise to move out. Roxann cringed when she imagined what the old man had picked up with his hearing aid pressed against the kitchen wall. Any doubts that he'd overheard Elise's stunning proclamation of passion had been erased when Mr. Nealy had "run into" Roxann at the trash Dumpster and proceeded to spin an unlikely tale whose moral seemed to be that just because a woman was a tomboy, it didn't mean that all her neighbors thought she was "you know."