Old Fashioned Murder (A Ryli Sinclair Cozy Mystery Book 3)

by Jenna St James

  The outside of his house looked like it hadn’t seen a power washer…ever. There were streaks of black and green on the white exterior. He’d stapled clear plastic over his windows to try and keep the heat in and the cold out. I wasn’t holding my breath that it was doing any good because most of the plastic tarps had holes in them.

  Aunt Shirley and I sloshed through the snow still covering his walkway and knocked the snow off our shoes the best we could. Obviously, I hadn’t thought I’d be trudging through snow when I put my shoes on this morning. Now my feet were soaking wet and freezing.

  I raised my hand and knocked loudly on the door. A few seconds later Thomas Shifley swung the door open. A bottle was hanging from his hand, and a semi-drunken sneer was plastered on his face.

  “I ought to kill you both right now.”

  CHAPTER 22

  * * *

  I was thinking of telling Shifley we’d come back later, when Aunt Shirley suddenly pushed on my back and propelled me inside the house.

  “Save the theatrics for later, Shifty. We’re here on important newspaper business.”

  He narrowed his eyes at us. “Whaddaya mean?”

  Aunt Shirley scoffed. “Please, you don’t expect us to believe you killed Manning, do you?”

  We don’t?

  Sometimes I get so confused with Aunt Shirley’s thinking. I can never tell if she’s serious, using reverse psychology, or using serious reverse-psychology…if that’s even a thing.

  I unzipped my jacket, hung it over my arm, and sat down gingerly on the edge of Shifley’s stained couch. No way was I sitting down on his filthy couch in my new coat. God only knows what the stains were from, and I wasn’t about to ask.

  Shifley sat down on a recliner that looked like it had seen its best day years ago. “Whaddya want?” He took a swig straight from the bottle then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

  Aunt Shirley unzipped her coat and sat down on the stained couch next to me. “Just a few questions. First off, I’m assuming Chief Kimble has talked to you about the stolen goods and Manning’s death?”

  “Duh.”

  “Have you spoken with Sheri today?” Aunt Shirley asked.

  “No.” Shifley took another swig. At this rate, he’d have about two more questions in him before he passed out. “Why would I want to talk with anyone from that place?”

  From his cavalier attitude, I figured he didn’t have any idea that Sheri had been served warrants last night or that Garrett was trying to get a search warrant for his place. Which was probably a good thing for us.

  “Do you know anything about the stolen items and burglary ring that’s going on at the Manor?” I asked.

  Shifley shook his head. “Of course not. I have nothing to do with that. If anyone told you otherwise—they’re a liar!”

  I was willing to bet Kaylee was telling the truth over Shifley, but I wasn’t going to press the issue.

  “That witch Sheri Daniels has it in for me, that’s all. She’s trying to pin everything on me!”

  Aunt Shirley leaned forward on the couch, her body moving closer to Shifley’s. “Let me ask you…do you think Sheri killed Manning?”

  Shifley shrugged. “I dunno. Everybody hated the guy.” Shifley took another drink and looked at Aunt Shirley over the bottle. He finished drinking and wiped his mouth. “Heck, at one point I figured you killed him.” I could tell he was beginning to slow down by the way his eyes were drooping. Next would be the slurred speech.

  Aunt Shirley nodded. “You’re right. I did my fair share of threatening him.”

  “Darn right you did.” Another drink. Then a belch. “Anything else? I need to rest my eyes. Room’s beginning to spin a little.”

  Aunt Shirley smiled. “Just one more question. Did you kill Manning?”

  My eyes darted to Aunt Shirley. What was she thinking asking a drunk, angry man a question like that!

  “Get out!” Shifley tried to stand, but the room must have been spinning more than he suspected because he landed with a soft thud back down on the recliner. He lowered his chin to his chest, his mouth hanging open, closed his eyes, and started to snore.

  “This is creepy,” I said. “What do we do now?”

  Aunt Shirley smiled. “I couldn’t have planned this better myself.”

  I suppressed a groan. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean now we have plenty of time to look around and see if we find a clue that tells us whether or not he killed Manning, or whether or not he has stolen property in his possession. I’d bet anything he’s good for one of those dastardly deeds.”

  “What are we looking for? An empty package of castor seeds and melted chocolate?” I asked snidely. “Do you really think he’d just leave them or any of the stolen items out in plain view?”

  “Look at him. He’s passed out in a drunken stupor before lunch. He’s not exactly a genius.”

  Good point.

  “Fine,” I sighed. “I’ll take the kitchen and you…”

  I trailed off because Aunt Shirley was already heading upstairs. “I’m going to see what this freak keeps in his bedroom. I just hope it’s not too crazy, even for me.”

  With one last look at the snoring body, I heaved myself up off the couch and gingerly made my way to the kitchen. It was worse than I imagined.

  The island was littered with crushed beer cans. From the looks of it, he wasn’t too loyal to a particular brand. If it said beer, he would drink it. The countertops had crumbs and spilled food sticking to them, and I don’t think he’d done a dish in over a month. Two overflowing trash bags were sitting by the back door, waiting to be taken out.

  I put my hand over my mouth and nose and tried not to breathe in too much. I quietly opened and closed drawers—the whole time keeping an ear out for any disruption in Shifley’s snores. With as much alcohol as he’d consumed, I didn’t expect him to stir for hours.

  When I didn’t find anything incriminating in the kitchen, I tiptoed back into the living room and started up the stairs where Aunt Shirley was currently poking around.

  I found her upstairs in Shifley’s extra bedroom. “Would you look at what this nutso has in his possession?” Aunt Shirley held up a pair of white, satiny granny panties. Panties so big if you put them on they’d go up past your belly button.

  “Eww. My gosh, is he stealing those from patients at the Manor?” I don’t think I’d ever been so disgusted by anything in my whole life.

  “I knew Shifty was weird,” Aunt Shirley said, “but this is a whole new bag of crazy. He’s got a fetish for old-lady panties!” She held up another pair exactly like the first, only they were red. “I bet Old Man Jenkins would love me in these.”

  I plugged my ears. “Stop talking now, please.”

  I looked around the room and let out a soft whistle. From the looks of things, I’d say Shifley was definitely the thief at the Manor. I ran my hand over an assortment of wallets, jewelry, and clothing that obviously did not belong to him.

  I thought about what he’d said downstairs about being innocent. If he lied about this, was he also lying about not murdering Manning?

  “So do you think he killed Manning?” I asked. “Maybe Manning found out what Shifley was doing and threatened to expose him if he didn’t cut him in.”

  “I honestly don’t know. I’m assuming you didn’t find anything in the kitchen?”

  “No. We have him for the theft, and in just a few hours Garrett will be here with a search warrant. So Shifley is going down for that at least. But we have nothing to prove he killed Manning.”

  Aunt Shirley walked over to an oak dresser up against a wall and pulled open a drawer. “Looks like quilts and afghans in here.” Aunt Shirley lifted up one of the quilts. “I think this is one that Lovey and Dotty made. They’re gonna flip when we tell them he’s stealing their stuff from other people.” Aunt Shirley shook her head in disgust. “Stealing from old people. That’s a new kind of low.” She pulled open the top drawer of the dr
esser. “Hey, I was needing a new pair of dentures. These look pretty good!”

  “Put those down!”

  I was about to suggest we get out before Shifley woke up from his drunken stupor when I heard footsteps on the stairs.

  “In the closet!” I shoved Aunt Shirley into the closet, stepped in after her, and closed the closet door except for a crack for me to see through. I tried to calm my breathing and beating heart.

  “I told you they ain’t here,” Shifley slurred into his cell phone. “They left when I told them to get out.”

  Guess again, jerk!

  “I’ll have everything boxed up and ready for the pawn shop by tonight. Stop worrying.” He hung up the phone and staggered farther into the room.

  I was beginning to feel claustrophobic. I willed Shifley to get out so Aunt Shirley and I could plan our escape. After touching a couple of the items, he turned and staggered back out of the room. I prayed he was going to his room to nap so we could sneak down the stairs and out the front door.

  Of course, luck wasn’t with me. A few seconds later I heard him crashing, falling, and cursing his way down the stairs. A few more seconds later the TV began blaring.

  “How’re we gonna get out of here?” I whispered.

  “Why are you whispering?” Aunt Shirley said and pushed me out of the closet. “That TV’s so loud the neighbors have to be able to hear it.”

  “How are we going to get out of here without getting caught?” I repeated.

  Aunt Shirley shrugged. “Climb out the window that was directly above the porch. From there we can slide down on our stomachs and dangle over the edge…then let go.”

  “Did you just think of that?”

  Aunt Shirley patted me on my head like I was two years old. “Honey, first lesson in being a private eye…always have a way out.”

  “One, I’m not a private investigator. And two, I thought the first lesson was always have plenty of food on a stakeout.”

  Aunt Shirley laughed at my feeble attempt at humor. “Do you suppose he was talking to Sheri Daniels or Carl Baker on the phone?”

  I shook my head. “I honestly have no idea at this point. But I’d say it’s a for sure thing that one of them is his partner.”

  “Let’s go. I want to get back to the office and figure out our next move.”

  I held up my hand. “Our next move is letting Garrett make an arrest. I’m leaning more toward Shifley being both the murderer and thief. I don’t want to tangle with him anymore.”

  Aunt Shirley put her finger up to her lips and motioned me to be quiet. She tiptoed out of the stolen stash room and across the tiny hallway toward Shifley’s bedroom.

  I wrinkled my nose when we entered. It smelled like mildew meets week-old funk. I made a gagging noise before I could stop myself. Two of his Manor uniforms were wadded up at the foot of his bed on the floor. I assumed he just bent down and put them back on the next day.

  I think his bed sheets were supposed to be tan, but they looked more like light green from the filth. There were sporadic burn holes in the sheets—presumably from cigarettes. Classy.

  “How in the heck does he sleep in this smell and filth?” I asked, bringing my coat sleeve up to cover my nose and mouth.

  Aunt Shirley crept over to the lone window Shifley had in his bedroom. She eased it up and slipped out onto the roof. “Let’s go.”

  I had just slid my feet out onto the roof when I noticed a package of chocolate covered espresso beans on Shifley’s nightstand. There was something about it I couldn’t put my finger on.

  “Let’s go!” Aunt Shirley hissed again. “Someone is bound to see us up here if we lollygag.”

  I filed the clue away for a later day. At least I thought it was a clue.

  CHAPTER 23

  * * *

  “How’s your ankle?” Mindy asked.

  I took the ice pack off to examine the swelling. Aunt Shirley’s idea of just gracefully sliding off the porch roof and onto the sidewalk didn’t work out so well for me. I landed hard on my ankle, then my butt.

  “It’s fine.” And it really was. I just wanted Aunt Shirley to feel guilty for once again getting me into a ridiculous situation.

  “You need to start working out more,” Aunt Shirley barked from her desk. “You have no muscle tone and you have hamster strength. A drop like that should be nothing. Instead, you practically break your ankle, hip, and butt. You’re a disgrace to the job!”

  “You sound like Hank.”

  “I never thought I’d say this,” Aunt Shirley said, “but Hank’s right.”

  I glared at her, then put the ice pack back on my ankle and went back to feeling sorry for myself.

  “I know what will make you feel better,” Mindy announced. “Valentine’s presents!”

  She opened her side drawer and pulled out a package wrapped in glittery pink hearts and lifted up a matching gift bag from the floor next to her desk.

  “You got us Valentine’s Day presents?” I started to panic. I hadn’t gotten her anything. We’d never exchanged gifts before.

  Mindy must have seen the look on my face because she waved her hand. “It’s nothing big.”

  Mindy handed the gift bag to Aunt Shirley and I got the wrapped package.

  “I gave the same gift to Paige when she was in here yesterday,” Mindy giggled. “I figured it might help get that baby here faster.”

  I felt my face turn red. I’m not a prude by any means, but now I was scared to open the gift.

  “Well, I’m not afraid to open my gift,” Aunt Shirley said. She reached inside the bag and lifted out the gift then started to laugh. “I love it!”

  “It’s called a boozy bouquet,” Mindy explained.

  Instead of flowers inside a vase, there were twelve pointy sticks with tiny one-serving bottles of booze glued to the end of each stick. Greenery and baby’s breath were stuck in the vase to hide most of the sticks and give it a decorative vibe.

  “You know,” Aunt Shirley mused, “I once thought I found true love when I was in my forties. That is, until we went out that night and he asked me if I thought I really needed another drink. I dumped him immediately. I don’t need that kind of negativity in my life!”

  Even though I laughed at her attempt at humor, tears filled my eyes. I suddenly felt like a crappy niece. Sometimes I get so used to seeing Aunt Shirley as a burden that I forget she’s a woman with emotions. I felt like a heel for not getting her something for Valentine’s Day. Here she was getting all excited over a gift of tiny booze bottles glued to a stick.

  “Stop getting so sappy,” Aunt Shirley snapped. “At least I have my date with a boozy bouquet tonight while you heathens are out having kinky fifteen shapes of gray sex. I heard that’s the thing to do these days.”

  Mindy giggled while I laughed so hard my side hurt. I wiped my eyes and smiled at Aunt Shirley. “That’s not what it’s called. And you’ve totally ruined any thought of that…ever!”

  “Am I paying you to party or to write?” Hank yelled from his doorway. “Did you get the goods on this Shifley character?”

  “I’m on it!” I yelled. But Hank had already shut the door on my reply.

  “Hank’s taking me to Kansas City tonight,” Mindy whispered excitedly. “Hopefully we’ll be a little late to work tomorrow.”

  Aunt Shirley and I laughed. Poor Hank had no idea what he was in for.

  Plop! Plop!

  I checked my phone and saw it was a text from Garrett. Saw paper. Congrats to you on two front-page spots. We are celebrating you tonight.

  I nearly groaned aloud in anticipation. I looked down at my still-wrapped package. Did I have the guts to open it here?

  “Open it tonight when you are with Garrett,” Mindy said. “Trust me. You both will love it.”

  “Thanks. I want to call Virginia real quick to remind her about the paper. Then I see no reason why we can’t go by Mom’s house to see how she and Paige are coming on our Valentine’s desserts.”

 
; My mom was the best baker in Granville. At least I thought so. I, however, didn’t inherit her baking gene. Garrett hardly ever let me live down the one time I accidentally mixed up Cream of Tartar and Tartar Sauce. Now he begs my mom for desserts.

  I opened my cell and dialed Virginia’s number. It rang four times before her answering machine picked up. I left a message reminding her to make sure she read her front-page article in the Gazette and promised I’d stop by in the morning to get her reaction—hers and Lovey’s and Dotty’s. Over mimosas I was sure. I also wished her well on her date with Bert.

  * * *

  I parked the Falcon in Mom’s driveway. Aunt Shirley and I rushed inside to see what goodies we’d be taking home.

  I loved the house I grew up in. Mom had done some major remodels over the years, and her old Victorian had some great modern conveniences inside when it came to her kitchen and bathroom. My favorite update had been the library. The place that gave me my start for a love affair with words.

  The library was one of the largest rooms in the house. It had originally just been two small rooms next to each other. Mom said back in the day, one room was probably a parlor and the other may have been a bedroom. She decided to knock the wall down and make it a huge library. All four walls were filled with recessed bookshelves holding hundreds of books. Along with the gas fireplace, she’d also added a large dome-shaped skylight for just the right ambiance.

  “Smells divine,” I said as Aunt Shirley and I walked in the back door of the kitchen.

  Paige and Mom were sitting at the kitchen table, a bottle of sparkling water between them. Chocolate dipped strawberries, Whoopie pies, and a pan of Mom’s famous Slutty Brownies were sitting on the cabinet.

  I poured a glass of sparkling water for Aunt Shirley and me, sat down at the table, and plucked a chocolate dipped strawberry from the plate.

  “Mmmm. Wonderful as always, Momma.”

  Mom leaned over and kissed me on my cheek. “Thanks. Paige and I are sure that tonight’s desserts will get me a grandbaby!”

  I laughed at Paige’s red face. “Yes. I couldn’t help but notice the desserts this year. Slutty Brownies and Whoopie pies, Momma? Could you be any more obvious?”