“Your sources?” I asked with a smile.
Old Man Jenkins gave me a wicked grin. “Your aunt asked me to keep my ear to the ground. Said she’d make it worth my while.”
I suppressed a groan. “What’s significant about the boxes from the pantry?”
Mr. Jenkins and Mr. Jackson looked at each other and shrugged.
“No idea,” Old Man Jenkins said. “And most of the thefts have occurred in our private rooms. This is the first theft I’ve heard about venturing out into the Manor itself.”
“Any idea who’s behind the thefts?” I asked.
“Nope. That’s where you and your aunt come in,” Mr. Jenkins said. “We let you girls handle the investigative work.”
I thanked the men and made my way out of the lobby and toward Aunt Shirley’s wing. She lived on the third floor of the Tropical Paradise wing.
I passed a partially closed door with a plaque touting the name Sheri Daniels on it. I’d never really met Oak Grove Manor’s Coordinator, but I had to admit I was curious now that she might be the leader in a burglary ring.
I heard crying and yelling going on inside the room.
“I don’t care to listen to your sniveling anymore, Kaylee. You’d better find those boxes and find them now!”
The stolen boxes from the pantry?
I paused, looked around to make sure no one was watching, and placed my ear close to the partially closed door. I could hear a female crying.
“I’m so sorry, Sheri. I honestly don’t know what’s happened to them. I’ve looked everywhere!”
“You were the last person to handle the boxes, so they are your responsibility. If you don’t find them soon, you’re fired!”
More sobbing. I’m assuming from this Kaylee person who lost the shipment. “Please, Sheri, I really need this job. It’s just me trying to support my baby.”
“Not my problem. I had you place the order, it was delivered, you put it in the pantry, and now it’s gone missing. You were the last one to see the boxes.”
“And I’m telling you,” Kaylee insisted, “I stacked the boxes in the walk-in pantry just like you told me to.”
“And what? They just got up and walked away?”
Man, this Sheri Daniels really is a colossal witch! I thought Aunt Shirley was exaggerating.
“You better find the shipment, Kaylee, or your days here are numbered,” Sheri said. “Now get out.”
In a panic, I flattened myself against the wall, my back next to the open door. If Kaylee looked to her right she’d see me, but I didn’t know what else to do.
Luckily I didn’t have to worry. Poor Kaylee came rushing out the door, sobbing into her hand. She never looked my way.
“And what about my stuff?” a male voice said angrily. “Did you get it reordered?”
“Yes, Mr. Manning, I got it reordered. It should be here in a couple days.”
“It better be,” Manning growled.
“I said it’s coming,” Sheri said icily. “Now please get out so I can go back to work.”
I figured that was my hint to hightail it out of there unless I wanted to get caught. And I didn’t want to run into Aunt Shirley’s surly neighbor, Mr. Manning, either. He was a whole lot of trouble.
I walked through the swinging doors of the extra-wide corridor that was decorated with fake plants, palm trees, and walls covered in faded pictures of tropical islands and beaches. I heard the swish of the swinging doors as they closed behind me.
“Mr. Manning!” I recognized Kaylee’s voice.
I looked around to find a place to hide, but there was nothing around me in the sparse hallway. I flattened myself against the wall adjacent to the swinging doors to try and hide. I prayed the doors would not come back and hit me in the face.
“What do you want?” Mr. Manning growled.
“You knew I put those boxes in the pantry. Did you take them?”
Manning laughed. “A lot of people knew you put the boxes in the pantry. It’s not like it’s a big secret. But word of advice, you might want to find them before I do. Because I’ll make sure you’re fired. That means you’ll be without a job, and your little brat will starve.”
I held my breath as Manning pushed open the doors and stalked down the hallway toward the elevators.
“Not if I kill you first,” Kaylee whispered.
I waited until everything had settled down before pushing myself off the wall. Who knew the Manor was such a breeding ground for drama.
I took the elevator to the third floor and walked to Aunt Shirley’s apartment. The third floor had six apartments on it—three on each side. Aunt Shirley’s apartment was the first apartment on the left-hand side, apartment number 366. I always wondered how hard it would be to turn the three into a six.
The door across the hall and over one from Aunt Shirley’s place was open, and I could hear women’s laughter inside. I was about to peek in when Aunt Shirley’s door flew open.
“It’s about time,” she wheezed through the vapor of her electronic cigarette. “What took you so long?”
She yanked on my coat and pulled me into her apartment. The living quarters consisted of a tiny kitchen, breakfast nook barely big enough for two people, and a living room sporting a sofa, recliner, coffee table, and TV.
That’s it.
There are no pictures or other decorations anywhere. The bedroom and bathroom were located down a narrow hallway to the left of the open archway. As luck would have it, Aunt Shirley was one of the lucky ones that had one of those barely-there balconies.
“I see you’re still smoking that ridiculous thing,” I said. I didn’t want to answer her question about what took me so long because I didn’t want to admit I ran into Old Man Jenkins and she may be on to something with the thefts. Aunt Shirley puffed on the e-cig and started to cough.
My aunt never smoked a day in her life. The fact there wasn’t nicotine in the contraption made it even more ridiculous for her to puff away on it.
“You look ridiculous.”
“If I wanted someone to nag me, I’d be married,” she snarled. “Get in here and help me.”
I sighed and took off my jacket, hanging it up over the back of one of the chairs. “Can I have a drink?”
Aunt Shirley walked into the kitchen, flipped on the light, took down two shot glasses from the cabinet, opened the freezer, and took out a bottle of tequila. My Aunt Shirley loved her tequila.
“I’m not drinking tequila,” I said. “Don’t you have anything else?”
“Nope. It’s tequila or you drink water.”
I sighed. “Fine, what do you have to mix it with?”
Aunt Shirley snorted. “Mix it with? I plan on mixing it with my saliva.” She poured a shot, picked up her glass, and downed it in one gulp.
“I’ll pass then.” My aunt, the quintessential party girl. “So what did you need help moving? I need to get home.”
“Let’s watch that show with the hunky detective. Mmm…mmm…I’d be his baby girl any night!” She cackled wickedly, grabbed the bottle, and pushed past me to the living room.
I had to give her that one. If I didn’t have Garrett, I’d definitely like to be his baby girl.
I covered my ears when Aunt Shirley turned on the TV. The volume level was deafening, and I needed my eardrums to hear all the naughty things Garrett would be whispering in them later. “Turn it down. Jeez!”
Bang! Bang! Bang!
“I’ll get it. You just work on turning it down,” I hollered.
I looked out the peephole and saw the protruding forehead and deep scowl of Aunt Shirley’s horrendous neighbor, Ray Manning.
“Open up you battleax!” Manning lifted his cane and beat it against the door again.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
I stumbled back from the door, startled by the rage coming from Mr. Manning.
“I know you’re in there. I can hear your TV!”
“Turn it off!” I yelled at Aunt Shirley. “I can’t take mu
ch more of this insanity.”
“Fine,” Aunt Shirley grumbled, clicking off the TV. “But take it from me, when he gets like this, the best thing to do is turn the volume up more. It drowns the old coot out.”
Bang! Bang! Bang!
“Hold on!” I yelled.
I yanked open the door and scowled at Ray Manning. I’d only had a few run-ins with him since Aunt Shirley started staying at the Manor, but one thing was certain, he was a mean and unhappy man. From the conversation and death threat I overheard downstairs, I’d say I wasn’t the only person that felt that way, either.
He was around eighty years old, five foot ten, bald except for a patch of white hair running around the back of his skull, and probably weighed one hundred eighty pounds. For an old guy, he was pretty intimidating.
I wanted to take the cane he was using to beat on the door and beat him over the head with it.
Obviously I needed a drink worse than I thought if I was willing to take a life over banging a cane on a door. Or I needed space from Aunt Shirley. Her I-hate-everyone attitude was rubbing off on me.
“What do you want, Mr. Manning?” I asked as politely as I could.
Ray Manning thumped his cane repeatedly on the floor. Obviously the guy needed to tone down on his consumption of caffeine and take an anger management class or two.
“I want you to turn that TV down! I’ve called down to the front desk and told them I’ve had enough. Either that horrible woman goes or I go!”
“Well, hate to see ya leave, old man,” Aunt Shirley hollered from the living room. “But this floor will be a lot better off without your crotchety old carcass here.”
Ray Manning’s face turned red. He leaned down on his cane until he was eye level with me. “You might want to tell your aunt to watch her mouth.”
“And you might want to back that nasty breath up before I keel over.” I slapped my hand over my mouth, horrified that I’d spoken to someone like that. My momma raised me better!
Aunt Shirley cackled behind me. “You tell him, girl.”
Ray Manning straightened and turned his hateful glare on Aunt Shirley. “I’d watch it if I were you. You won’t look so good if you go missing some teeth.”
I sucked in my breath. Had he seriously just threatened Aunt Shirley? A part of me was truly terrified by the old man…but another part of me was ready for Aunt Shirley to deliver a beatdown on the guy.
Aunt Shirley shoved me aside and got within an inch of Ray Manning. “I can promise you if you try to raise a hand to me, I’ll break it and every other bone in your body!”
CHAPTER 3
* * *
The dinging of the elevator saved Aunt Shirley from a trip to the pokey. I had no doubt she was about to go all spider monkey on Ray Manning, which would result in an arrest. Something that would give Garrett great pleasure, but would just end up being a big hassle for me.
I groaned when Thomas Shifley—aka Shifty—got off the elevator and waddled over to where we were. I’d gone to high school with Shifley. He earned his unfortunate nickname in high school, and the name had stuck ever since. Numerous people at the Manor called him Shifty…sometimes to his face…sometimes behind his back.
“What’s going on here?” he demanded, narrowing his dark, beady eyes at Aunt Shirley.
“Nothing’s going on here, Shifty,” Aunt Shirley snarled. “Mind your own business.”
Thomas Shifley ran his hands through his shaggy, oily hair and drew himself up to full height—which now made him about five foot four. “Listen here, Lady. I told you one more complaint and you’re out.”
I’m not gonna lie. Those words sent me into panic mode. No way was I gonna have Aunt Shirley living with me!
“Mr. Shifley,” I cooed as best I could without gagging, “there’s no problem here. Aunt Shirley just forgot to put in her hearing aids. We turned the TV down immediately.”
“The day I need hearing aids is the day you need to take me out back and shoot me!”
“That could be arranged,” Ray Manning said.
“That’s it, Manning,” Aunt Shirley snapped. “I could kill you right now in five different ways. So you might want to watch yourself.”
Thomas Shifley’s eyes bugged out of his head. “I don’t think death threats are necessary here.”
“That’s part of your problem, Shifty,” Aunt Shirley said. “You don’t think!”
I groaned. I could tell by the three shades of purple Shifley’s face was turning that this was not going to end well for Aunt Shirley and me.
Thomas Shifley pointed his finger in Aunt Shirley’s face. “That’s it. I’m going to make sure you’re out of here soon.”
“Sticks and stones, Shifty…sticks and stones.” Aunt Shirley slammed the door in their faces and cackled.
Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out.
“I’m not sure that was the smartest thing to do,” I whispered.
“Pshaw! Shifty ain’t gonna do nothin’. You worry too much.”
“And you worry too little,” I countered.
I nearly fainted when a knock sounded at the door a few minutes later. I was positive it was Thomas Shifley coming back with reinforcements to kick Aunt Shirley out. I leaned in and peered through the peephole, breathing a sigh of relief when I saw it was Aunt Shirley’s neighbors from across the hall. I’d only seen them in passing. I’d never stopped to talk with them.
I turned to whisper to Aunt Shirley. “It’s your neighbors from across the hall. I’m going to let them in.”
“Why? I don’t talk to them. They’re always trying to push their crap off on me.”
I rolled my eyes and opened the door. “Hello, ladies. Won’t you come in?”
“Thank you, dear. That’s very kind of you,” the shorter of the two said as she rolled in a cart, three tiers high. “My name is Lavinia Howk, but my friends call me Lovey. And this is Dorothea Cook, but we call her Dotty.”
I guessed them to be around Aunt Shirley’s age. Probably early seventies, but I couldn’t be sure. Other than being similar in age, Lovey and Dotty were complete opposites.
Where Lovey was short, barely coming to my chest, I put Dotty at nearly six foot tall. Lovey was curvier and softer than Dotty’s tall, straight form. Lovey had round facial features that made her look jovial and happy. Dotty’s face was hawk-like and angular.
I stuck out my hand. “I’m Ryli, Aunt Shirley’s great-niece.”
“Humph,” Aunt Shirley said. “Only sometimes are you a great niece.” She laughed at her own joke.
I rolled my eyes.
“We couldn’t help but overhear the arguing just now,” Lovey said sympathetically. “I hope everything is okay. That Thomas Shifley can be difficult sometimes.”
“And don’t even get us started on Ray Manning,” Dotty added in a gravelly voice. “That man is a nuisance. Always has been. Lovey and I have known him for over forty years. We’ve lived in Granville our whole lives, you know.”
Aunt Shirley poured herself another shot of tequila. “I ain’t worried about either one of them lowlifes.” She tipped her head back and downed the drink.
“Ray Manning is not someone you want to tangle with,” Lovey advised. “We’re positive he’s the one that’s leaving horrible, threatening letters on Virginia’s door. We just can’t catch him in the act.”
“That’s horrible,” I said. I had no idea who Virginia was, but I didn’t want to keep dwelling on what had just happened for fear it would lead to Aunt Shirley’s removal. “What have you got here?”
Lovey clapped her small hands in glee. “Dotty and I are the hospitality wagon for the Manor. We go around and try to provide residents with things they might not be able to get their hands on otherwise. Sheri Daniels orders things off the Internet for residents, but if you are looking for something a little different, we’re usually your girls.” Lovey bent down and pulled a multi-colored afghan out of one of the tiers. “Here’s one of our afghans we recently made.�
�
I reached out and gingerly touched the blanket. “It’s stunning.”
“Lovey and I have been crocheting since we were kids,” Dotty said as she stooped down and slid out another tier for me to look at. “Here we have some chocolates that we’ve made up. Plus we have other goodies like dandelion wine, magazines, and an assortment of other snacks. The food here isn’t the best.”
I laughed. “That’s quite an eclectic assortment. I’ve never heard of dandelion wine.”
“It’s what a lot of us oldies grew up on,” Lovey supplied.
“Remember when we’d go out in Virginia’s pasture and pick those dandelions?” Dotty reminisced. “Virginia Webber is our other bestie, and she lives next door to us. She’s the one that’s getting the horrible letters from Ray Manning. She also has the unfortunate pleasure of living directly across the hall from him.”
“Ha!” Aunt Shirley said. “Try living next door to him.”
I smiled at Lovey and Dotty. “You guys are best friends and you all live together? That’s so awesome!”
Lovey nodded. “Virginia has her own place, but Dotty and I share an apartment. We’ve all been friends about sixty years now.”
“Wow, that’s super cool. I hope my best friend, Paige, and I are friends sixty years from now!”
Lovey and Dotty smiled at each other.
“Is there anything we can get for you, Shirley?” Lovey asked as she put the afghan away.
“Nope. I got my stash of tequila, and that’s all I need.”
Dotty’s thin, silver hair moved as she shook her head. “We’ve been trying for a year now to expand your aunt’s palate. There’s more to drink than tequila.”
“What do you drink?” I asked.
Dotty pulled a flask out of the pocket of her old-lady sweater.
Does every old person carry a flask? Is it some kind of old-person initiation?
“Today I’m drinking a Manhattan,” Dotty said. “But Lovey, Virginia, and I also like to drink a Tom Collins, an Old Fashioned, and a Dirty Martini.”
“I’ve heard of a couple of those drinks,” I laughed.
“How about you, Ryli?” Lovey asked kindly. “Is there anything we can get for you?”
Old Fashioned Murder (A Ryli Sinclair Cozy Mystery Book 3) Page 2
