Boxed Set: Darling Valley Cozy Mystery Series featuring amateur female sleuth Olivia M. Granville

by Cassie Page

  “He called me last night and said he was on his way home. He was going to stop at the market and get some cereal for Emma here. He knew I had dinner waiting. He just never showed up.”

  She started sobbing and fell onto Olivia’s shoulder. Out of the corner of her eye, Olivia saw the police escort with the Governor’s limo pull into the parking area, following the directions of the guy Scott had appointed as parking attendant. Olivia needed to break away from this woman and greet her guests. She had to find someone else to play social worker.

  “Mrs. Fisher. I can’t help you. I wish I could.”

  Olivia meant that. For a brief second she put herself in the young woman’s shoes, a missing husband, a boisterous baby to control, not even a ray of sunshine peeking through the redwoods and pines to comfort her.

  “I think you need to call the police. Unfortunately, we’re having an event here that is starting any minute. I’m in charge and I have things to do. We have security here. You must talk to them.”

  “I have!”

  Victoria was adamant, angry now. “They said to file a missing person’s report. They aren’t real police. But he’s here. Somewhere around here. I know it. Why won’t anyone help me?”

  Olivia looked up to the sky and back at Victoria. The timing couldn’t be worse. ”I’ll see if I can get a detective I know to help you.”

  Olivia had Detective Richards on speed dial. He picked up instantly. She turned away from the mother to speak privately. As much as she would love to chat with Matt, this wasn’t the time. She wasn’t sure it was even his problem.

  “Hi, it’s me. I’m at the groundbreaking. Listen, can you send someone over to talk to a woman here? She claims her husband is missing. Oh, really?”

  Olivia turned around and saw a Darling Valley squad car arriving through the other entrance at the far end of the field. It was added security for the Governor, there to help Logan’s private detail. “Great. I’ll send her over to them. Thanks.”

  She pointed out the police car to the woman. “You go over there and speak to those officers. Tell them Detective Richards sent you.”

  Without thinking, she kissed the baby on the forehead before sending the woman off and heading to the Governor’s arriving entourage.

  Chapter Two: Groundbreaking Murder

  2:1

  “Oh, Ollie Mollie! I’m here. Yoo-hoo.”

  Leave it to Tuesday to make a grand entrance. Like Cleopatra entering Rome, Tuesday waved at Olivia from the fire truck that was arriving at the far end of the site behind the squad car.

  Oh, no, girlfriend, Olivia whispered as she looked at Tuesday’s outfit. A wine-colored, sleeveless Elizabethan velvet gown, a parasol and a wide-brimmed picture hat suitable for England’s Ascot races. She might double as a college understudy for Hello, Dolly. Except for the tattoos.

  As the truck came closer, Olivia spotted them, new since she had last seen her friend. She was surprised Tuesday had not mentioned such a drastic change to her appearance, especially since she knew Tuesday was opposed to any permanent body art. “I like to change things up. You know that, Ollie. With tattoos, I’d be stuck with them for life.”

  Yet there they were, sleeves on both arms. Meaning from wrist to shoulder, her arms were covered in colorful symbols and designs, the effect totally outrageous and inappropriate. Olivia ducked her head, gathering her wits. She’d told Tuesday what she needed from her today, with the Governor coming and all. She waved back, trying to understand what part of her friend’s costume spelled conservative.

  “Bye, boys,” Tuesday called to the firemen as she descended from her perch on the truck, her raised skirt revealing hiking boots. “Thanks for the lift.”

  The laughing, tattooed extravaganza ran across the tarp into Olivia’s arms and when she smelled Tuesday’s familiar fragrance and felt herself enveloped in her exuberant hug, suddenly Olivia didn’t care what Tuesday wore. After the stresses of the morning, she was just too happy to see her.

  Olivia could not yet detect the hair color Tuesday sported underneath the enormous hat. It had been pink the last time Tuesday visited, but when the two friends finally pulled away from each other, Olivia spotted peeking out from under the enormous hat a shade of blue that was definitely going to raise eyebrows.

  “Okay,” Olivia said. “A million questions that have to wait until later, but you have to tell me how you arranged an entrance courtesy of the Darling Valley first responders. And how did you even get here when the last time we talked you were home on the range with half the livestock in Los Angeles?”

  Olivia grinned as Tuesday checked out the construction crew, shaking her head in happy disbelief.

  She pointed to the beefy man struggling with the banner. “Fire fighters and now this? Hashtag lucky me. Girlfriend, the gods are repaying me for the nightmare on the 405.”

  Olivia took Tuesday’s arm and walked her out of the way of traffic.

  “My, my, honeybunch,” Tuesday enthused. “This has been a day to remember. I told you they’d sent cowpokes in helicopters to rescue us. Well,” and here Tuesday batted her eyelashes theatrically, “once he had rounded up the cattle, one of those sterling examples of American manhood offered me a ride to the airport in his helicopter. I made my flight, but ran into a snag with the rental car that broke down and died on Darling Boulevard. What’s a girl to do? I hitched a ride with the first vehicle to come my way. It happened to be those fine gentlemen who came to my rescue,” she said, waving to the fire crew.

  Olivia threw up her hands. “How do you do it, Tues? If it were me, they’d have me cleaning up cow pies on the freeway, not whisking me away to the airport.”

  Tuesday buffed her nails on an imaginary lapel. “Good karma, sweetiekins.”

  Oh how Olivia had missed the sweetiekins, honeybunches and other colorful names Tuesday called her. For a brief moment she forgot about the stresses of the morning and gloried in her friend’s presence.

  “I’m not sure how many laws you broke hitching a ride on a fire truck,” she giggled, hugging her again. “Just don’t tell the insurance agent responsible for our liability policy.”

  Then she quickly pulled her aside. “Whoops, stand back. Here comes the Governor.”

  A few minutes later Olivia smiled gamely for the photographers, trying to hide the fact that she had stepped off the tarp to make room for the Governor’s entourage and her stiletto heels were sinking into the mud. She searched the crowd and found Cody grinning at her from Carrie’s refreshment table, his 49’er cap backwards on his auburn mop, a signal that he was bored. Carrie was beaming at him, big surprise. Cody, nursing a cup of Carrie’s coffee, tapped his head. Olivia realized she was still wearing her hard hat.

  “Tuesday,” she said, whisking it off and primping her hair, “hold this for me.”

  She saw Mrs. Harmon nod from the second row of spectators, bookended by two friends from the city council. In the hustle and bustle of the morning, she hadn’t noticed her tenant’s arrival. She pointed to a vacant chair behind Mrs. Harmon and whispered to Tuesday, “Go take that seat. I’ll see you after the circus ends. You’re coming with us to lunch at Hugo’s with the Governor.”

  Tuesday traipsed off, removing her hat to fix her hair, which she wore in a Marilyn Monroe-style flip. Every head on the site turned to stare at the blue do, at once classy and ridiculous.

  2:2

  Olivia and Charles led the Governor and the rest of the groundbreaking participants, the diggers, Charles called them, to the podium. They stood aside as the small party ascended, acknowledged polite applause and gathered around the chairs that Cody had managed to sneak up there just in the nick of time. As at a dinner party, everyone waited for the Governor to sit first.

  The dignitaries chatted amongst each other and admired the huge rendering of the finished project, Charles Bacon’s massive Bacon-Paatz Museum. No one would dare make a joke about the name today.

  Olivia counted off the guests on the podium to be sure every
one had arrived, reflecting for a moment on the struggle and strife to bring this moment to fruition. She couldn’t quite believe that she had pulled it off by the deadline, given what it usually took to get a project of this size approved, the various committees and state and local agencies to sign off on permits, the funding to come through, the environmental issues to resolve, and the design finalized. She had made sure that everyone working on the project was hungry so they’d produce their best work and they had.

  They were all forward thinkers, people willing to break the mold and produce a building worthy of Charles Bacon’s dream. If she hadn’t reached the outrageous goal she had set for herself, that they would break ground six months after Charles purchased the land on the outskirts of Darling Valley, her own fledgling business would founder as well. She needed this success, they all did. In the previous months they had fought her and each other tooth and nail to have their way, but somehow it had all come together. On time. Now if the construction stage went as smoothly, this museum would make history.

  When Maestro Cavelli climbed the podium the crowd went wild. He was not the wealthiest resident of Darling Valley, but world famous and surely the most well-loved. A brief appearance in a film garnered a popular audience, and his album of Christmas music sold millions every year.

  Olivia had originally purchased ten shovels. In a conversation she had dreaded, she had explained to the singer that he would not be turning over a spade of earth because he had not been involved in the development of the project. He had seemed genuinely disappointed. Later, Olivia thought, why not, and called him to say she had added a shovel for him. It must be hard to suddenly fall out of the limelight upon retirement, she reasoned. And who knew when she’d need to call in a favor.

  Olivia climbed the podium, tested the mic, which worked, welcomed everyone and introduced Charles. She led the applause when he reached the lectern. He started out by thanking everybody for coming.

  “We got a lot of bigwigs here today, folks. The Governor, the architect, even an opera singer. Etc., etc.”

  The crowd laughed uneasily as he grouped the important personages as “etc.” Olivia knew that was a habit of his, finishing a sentence with etc. But what would the guests think? To her dismay, he then put aside his prepared speech and spoke off the cuff about the incongruity (a word he did NOT use) of a lug (a word he DID use) hosting the swells of Darling Valley.

  When he shook his head, and said, “Who’d a thunk it,” the crowd went wild. He pointed to Carrie and her table of coffee and pastries. “Let’s put the pretty little lady to work, folks. The food’s free. Eat up.”

  Olivia thought she would pass out. He was speaking to the assembled as though they were attending a wedding reception in a church auditorium in Hoboken with a spread made by the mothers in the parish. When the assembled realized it was not an act, but that he really did think they would bounce for a donut, they got to their feet and the air rang with shouts and laughter. They loved him. He may not have been like them, but now they accepted him as one of them.

  For the first time that morning, Olivia breathed a sigh of relief, the tension gripping her neck and shoulders drifting away as she added her laughter and affection for this unlikely philanthropist. The moment was better for her than meditation.

  Charles raised his hands to calm the crowd down. “I gotta say a few woids about why we’re here. Every time somebody comes into this museum, they will see a picture of my beautiful Ellie. She’s up there with the angels now.”

  He looked heavenward and the crowd, enthralled, followed suit as if they half expected his dead wife to appear in the clouds beaming down on them.

  “She was the best thing that ever happened to me and I thank God every day that I had her in my life, even for only a little while. Now I’d like a moment of silence for you all to say a prayer for Ellie, in your own woids that she’ll always look down on us.”

  Olivia covered her eyes with her hands, as though she were really praying. This was not what they had rehearsed. Had Charles lost all credibility with this maudlin plea? Didn’t he realize he was addressing the most sophisticated group of people in the western world? Or woild as he would say?

  Apparently, it didn’t matter. Olivia quickly glanced around the field. All she saw were bowed heads and a few people swiping tissues at their eyes. Poor Bailey, she thought. This was going to be a tough act for the Governor to follow.

  Olivia handed Charles a shovel and he walked to the end of the podium. Camera crews moved in as he gave them a big grin and a thumbs-up. He slicked back his hair and spit into his hands before he stuck his shovel into the ground, the classic barroom brawlers’ warm up to a fight. The crowd cheered. The mood was so high, Olivia realized she could raise millions for the museum on his New Jersey aura.

  Charles took his place at the end of the podium. “Okay, folks,” he said happily. “Let’s have the rest of the diggers.”

  He could do no wrong today and Olivia decided to stop worrying about his p’s and q’s as she joined the crowd’s laughter and applause at his casual reference to the State’s chief executive and other heavy hitters that she had worked tirelessly to cajole into giving up their precious time to be part of the festivities.

  After Charles came the second speaker, with a terrified look on his face. He described the school program he would lead, then stuck his spade in the ground as though he were attacking a wild animal and when finished, high-tailed it behind Charles as fast as he could.

  Russ Bowers spoke next, reminding everyone of his importance to the project. His blond associate had apparently recovered from the tantrum he threw about the wrong sketch and beamed at him adoringly from the first row. Olivia noticed that he’d neglected to thank Charles, or anyone else for that matter, for the opportunity to work on a project that was getting international attention. But Russ did make his speech short. He dug up some earth and returned to his place, winking at his associate.

  Finally, things were moving along quickly, Olivia said to herself. Sonia Gutierrez spoke next, the popular bank manager who had replaced Elgin Fastner at the Darling Valley bank after his involvement in a series of murders. She was stuffed into her three-piece suit, which had fit her when Olivia first met her, twenty pounds ago. Today the buttons threatened to pop. Sonia thanked the Darling Valley community for allowing the local bank to participate in this great project, sounding breathless after these few words. She finished her earth-turning chore quickly and returned to her spot. Olivia had Sonia on speed dial. She was the most efficient loan officer she had ever met and had fast tracked the bank’s participation in the financing efforts.

  Sonia knew she was allowed to keep her shovel but didn’t quite know what to do with it. She looked around for an aide to take it off her hands, but no one appeared. Olivia grimaced when she realized she had neglected that detail, what to do with the shovels after they’d been used, so far the only glitch in the proceedings.

  Each person that followed described his or her contribution to the project and, directed by Olivia, dug up a small patch of earth. It was time for the big close, the Governor’s speech, then photo ops all around. Cavelli would sing and that would be at the end. Everyone could go home, more lighthearted than when they had arrived, thanks to Charles, their host. Olivia had no doubt they would all grab a pastry in Ellie’s honor.

  The crowd went silent, waiting for the main event, the Governor and then the charismatic Maestro. That’s why Olivia had put their appearances last, so there wouldn’t be walkouts before the climax.

  Olivia introduced the Governor, who took her place at the center of the podium. Camera’s clicked amid light applause and people stood to get a better look. The Governor was a veteran of campaign dinners. She knew how to work the crowd, winking at the opera singer, then bowing slightly at the applause. Though her speech was short, it infuriated Olivia. It was full of campaign talk and a pitch for contributions.

  So not appropriate, Bailey, Olivia thought. This is my gig, not your
s.

  All this running through Olivia’s head as she thanked her and walked over to retrieve one of the last two shovels lined up by the easel, the other one for the Maestro. Olivia made a show of dropping it to show how heavy it was. The Governor responded by flexing a muscle as she grabbed it in time, and the audience laughed at the comedy bit the Governor’s aide had scripted and walked Olivia through on a Skype call the day before.

  Bailey held her spade over the pre-softened earth for a few moments while guests focused their phone cameras. She had a wide patch to attack. The other diggers had made their holes small and close together, rather than spacing them out evenly. But that didn’t matter. She waited for one more round of pictures for the press, with Olivia, with Charles, with each of the individuals on the podium. Then she got down to business.

  She made a determined attack on the ground in front of her. The shovel struck something hard and threw her off balance. Olivia swore under her breath. Scott, the contractor, had assured her that the earth would be malleable. No one would be embarrassed trying to dig up a spade of hard-packed clay. She shot an encouraging smile at the Governor. Someone’s head would roll over this. Olivia would see to it herself.

  The governor looked over her shoulder at Olivia, who urged her on. She liked Bailey, they’d met on a project in her former life in Los Angeles. So Bailey’s speech was a little too wordy. She told herself to chill. Bailey was a politician. What did she expect?

  So it pained Olivia to see the woman publicly embarrassed. Only one of two women on the podium and she gets stuck with a rock hard square of earth. It made her look bad, even though Olivia knew that Bailey could bench press any one of the soft-bellied guys who had smiled stupidly for the cameras as they dug into earth as soft as baby food.

  The governor tried again, and this time she hit the same hard spot. Olivia assumed it was a hidden rock. Governor Logan waved happily to her constituents to distract them from the awkward moment. She gave it one more try and this time she came up with something, but it wasn’t earth. A piece of plaid flannel. No, it was the sleeve of a man’s shirt. Oh no. Olivia couldn’t believe her eyes. There was an arm inside the sleeve.