Merry Wrath Mysteries Boxed Set Volume III (Books 7-9)

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Merry Wrath Mysteries Boxed Set Volume III (Books 7-9) Page 22

by Leslie Langtry


  I was going to argue with her, but she wasn't being unreasonable, so I didn't. She was right. For the first time, this murder wasn't about me. At least, I didn't think it was. She did show up on our float for some reason. But maybe that's just splitting hairs.

  We parted ways, agreeing to wait a day or so for the news to hit town—unless the perfect opportunity arose. The investigation had to look natural in order to escape Rex's ever-watchful eye. If we casually brought it up in conversation at the school, while, say, setting up a meeting to talk about our meetings, well, it wouldn't be more than gossiping, right?

  The worst part was the delay on the float for the Halloween parade. Rex would probably keep it as a crime scene. We'd have to put in extra hours just to get it done in time. The thought was starting to stress me out, so on my way home, I hit the grocery store for a few things. You can never have enough Oreos. Never. My Girl Scout Cookie stash ran out months ago, and sales wouldn't start up again until January. I had to survive somehow.

  I went a little light this time, only adding a half dozen packages to my cart. They were Double Stuf Oreos, which meant technically I was really buying twelve packages of single-stuff cookies, but it looked like I was cutting back. I congratulated myself on my ingeniousness as I made my way to the checkout.

  A tight, thin voice snarled behind me, "Ms. Wrath."

  I didn't need to turn around to know who it was. Juliette Dowd. This woman was a low-level wonk for the Girl Scout Council, and she hated me because she used to date Rex (actually, she was supposed to marry Rex via an arrangement between their families when they were kids, but Rex wasn't interested). I wasn't her biggest fan either. My troop's paperwork tripled as a result of her interference, but to my credit, I didn't kill her. Kelly thought I deserved some sort of award for self-control but was afraid that informing the Council that they had a totally murderable employee who hasn't yet been murdered by me would look like premeditation.

  "I understand you've entered a float in the parade," the pretty redhead snapped. "I'll be checking to make sure you filed the appropriate documents with the Council. If not, you won't be able to participate. Don't forget you need a teacher or principal from your school to sign off on it."

  She looked very pleased with herself, and if I didn't know that Kelly had taken care of the arrangements, I'd be worried. Kelly never missed a deadline. Even her daughter was born on the day she was due with several hours to spare.

  "Okay," I said, starting to move my cart in the other direction.

  "Wait!" she growled.

  Her eyes caught the sparkle of my lovely half-carat, emerald-cut diamond. It was as if her head exploded. The woman's entire body turned bright red with fury. For a moment, I thought (and secretly hoped) she really would burst.

  Yes, I know. I should've been the adult here. I just couldn't resist. Maybe the rage would drive her to move away to Iceland.

  "The wedding is in a couple of months. You should come!" I smiled my most innocent smile, which wasn't very natural for me. I probably looked like a dyspeptic koala.

  "I don't think so," the woman said evenly. She'd struggled to get out the words before she walked away.

  Dowd was already planning to make trouble for me. I couldn't have made things much worse. Right?

  I left the store with a bounce in my step.

  My cell rang.

  "Mom!" I squealed as I got into my van.

  "Hey kiddo!" Mom's voice sang out. "I'm in Chicago and thought I'd pop in for a couple of days. The wedding is close, and I thought we could go over things."

  Mom was in Chicago? I started the car. "Sure. When are you thinking?" I'd need to make reservations at the Radisson for her.

  "Tomorrow," Mom said. "And the Radisson is booked, so I thought I'd stay with you this time."

  I froze. "Oh, um, okay."

  My guest room was a mess. Actually, it had been shot up a year ago—by me. I'd never gotten around to dealing with it. Well, that's not exactly true. I did replace the closet door due to all the holes in it. But the bed resembled Swiss cheese, and I'd noticed Philby stashing her catnip mice in the holes.

  "Still finalizing the details, but I'm looking at a morning flight. I'll call you." She hung up before I had a chance to say anything.

  Tomorrow? I called Kelly.

  "We have to go shopping. Now." I filled her in on my impending furniture crisis.

  Kelly met me at my house.

  "Ready!" She was practically vibrating with excitement. Huh. I didn't realize bed shopping could be so exhilarating.

  "We should probably go to Des Moines…" I mumbled as I grabbed my purse.

  She shook her head. "We're going to Midland Furniture."

  "What? Why? That will be very expensive." Midland Furniture was the furniture store in town. Only farmers and old people too lazy to drive to the big city shopped there.

  "Because that's where Andy Andrews works. He's the manager…" Kelly grinned.

  "…which means it's where Didi worked! Genius!" So that's why she was so excited.

  "I know it's early, and all the employees might not know yet, but what harm can a little investigating do? And you do need a bed…"

  I smiled. "…I do need a bed!"

  We decided to take my minivan because hers was clogged with toddler-appropriate things, and if we bought a bed tonight, we'd need a way to get it home. It took five minutes to get there, and as we pulled into the parking lot, I told her about running into Juliette Dowd at the store.

  Kelly looked stricken. "I think I filed everything correctly."

  "You always do." I nodded.

  "But I forget things these days," my best friend said slowly. "Finn takes all my concentration." Finn, her daughter and my namesake, was an awesome toddler who, I was sure, thought I was the best thing ever.

  "Well, if you didn't get everything in and Juliette shows up to give us trouble, I'll just kill her. We already know that the skull on the float can hold a body."

  Nonetheless, Kelly insisted I remind her to double-check the paperwork she'd submitted. We got out of the car and walked into the showroom. I hadn't set foot in this store since my parents bought a dining room set when I was ten. The place hadn't changed much, but the furniture was different. This just might work.

  "What?" I whispered as I looked at a price tag for a mattress set. "I spent a lot less than this on my memory foam bed!"

  Kelly elbowed me in the ribs. "You need a bed, and you need it tonight, right?"

  I had to agree, mostly because a slick-looking, fiftysomething man in a very expensive suit was approaching us, wielding an unnaturally white smile. Within seconds we were choking on a cloud of cologne.

  "Ladies! Welcome to Midland Furniture! Where you'll pay less for the best!"

  I think they used that slogan on my parents back in the day. And it was clearly a lie, based on the price tags I'd already seen.

  "She needs a queen-size bed. Tonight." Kelly smiled warmly.

  The man grinned like an oily cobra as he probably added up some outrageous expenses for delivering a bed tonight. "You came to the right place! My name is Stan. You can call me Stan."

  I was just about to ask why I'd call him anything else when Kelly pointed at a gorgeous mahogany, four-poster bed.

  "That's lovely!" she gushed. "What do you think, Merry?"

  "Lovely," I agreed, mirroring her grin. "But I was just thinking a simple bed frame with a good box spring and mattress…"

  "Nonsense." Kelly waved me off. "If you're going to do it, you have to do it right."

  I narrowed my eyes. "This is just for the guest room." And it shouldn't be nicer than my bed set—which didn't have a headboard or matching nightstands.

  "Well, we have some simpler yet elegant options," Stan said in a manner that told me I was cheap. "But you really should have a headboard."

  "Why do I need a headboard?" Seriously—what did a headboard do? What was its purpose?

  "And matching dresser!" Kelly ignored me.


  "Hey!" I hissed at her. "I have that!"

  She shook her head. "You have particleboard furniture from IKEA. You're an adult now."

  We stared at each other in a bizarre, Western-like standoff before I caved.

  "Let me introduce you to the bedroom showroom," Stan said with a disturbing wink.

  "The bedroom showroom?" I whispered as we followed him, drowning in the wake of his overpowering cologne.

  "Here you go, ladies!" He pulled out his cell and frowned at it. "Looks like the boss wants to see me. Take your time and look around, and I'll be right back." He practically vanished in midair.

  "I'll bet he's about to find out about Didi," I guessed as I waded through the room. Looking around the showroom, I had to admit, the stuff was nice. And appeared to be made out of real wood. And I probably wouldn't have to put them together with a tiny, weird wrench that came taped to the box.

  "How about this one?" Kelly was sit-bouncing on a bed with a headboard that doubled as a bookcase.

  "I like it." I fell backwards onto the mattress. "Let's get this."

  "Hold on," she whispered. "We need to take our time. If Stan is hearing about the death of his co-worker right now, he'll be upset and vulnerable." Her smile implied she was enjoying this.

  I sat up and started bouncing on the bed. "I've clearly told you too much about being a spy."

  She was right though. The best time to wring information from a mark was when they were emotionally compromised. I once got the president of Uruguay to betray his country just because he was upset that his pet tarantula had died.

  "You can be the comforting, super sympathetic customer, and I'll pry the intel from him." I sat up on the bed.

  Kelly nodded. "And you get new furniture! Bonus!"

  I looked around the room. "Yeah…I guess…"

  "Ladies!" Stan's voice boomed from across the showroom as he practically skipped over to us in his alligator shoes. He winked as he joined us and then laughed out loud.

  This wasn't a man upset about the murder of a co-worker.

  My cell rang. "It's Rex," I told Kelly and walked away to answer it.

  "Hey. What's up?"

  "You aren't home, and it's seven," came the concerned reply. I guess I was a little too predictable.

  "Oh. I forgot to tell you. Mom is coming tomorrow to help me work on the wedding stuff, and I realized I still had a bullet-riddled bed, so Kelly and I are shopping."

  "For a bed?" Rex sounded amused. "In your guest room? IKEA is a long way from here."

  I didn't want to tell him. He probably knew where Didi worked. Rex would be suspicious and probably show up and ruin everything.

  "Kelly's trying to get me to buy a whole set. You wouldn't believe the prices. Ridiculous!"

  "Merry…" Rex used that voice that said he saw through my charade.

  "I have to go. The salesman is here. Love you! Bye!" I hung up and wandered back to the strangely ecstatic Stan and a confused-looking Kelly.

  I attempted a sad, sympathetic face. "I hope you didn't get bad news."

  Stan's eyes flashed with realization, and he toned it down a little. "One of my colleagues has died unexpectedly." Then, he laughed out loud. Again.

  "I'm so sorry." Kelly stepped into her previously discussed role. "How horrible!"

  Stan shrugged. "She was a horrid bitch. I'd rather not discuss it."

  Well, that was a whole lot of information in one little sentence.

  "Ugh." I rolled my eyes. "Don't you just hate working with people like that? I swear, my boss never noticed the stuff this one guy in the office got up to. And I always took the fall for anything wrong." I was lying of course. I never worked in an office unless I'd been undercover.

  Stan nodded, eager for the sympathy. "This woman was a real piece of work. She used to have me paged, and then when I stepped away, she'd swoop in and steal my clients. We earn commission here, you know."

  "That's terrible!" Kelly now was consoling him for something completely different. She learned fast.

  "And she wasn't even a qualified salesman!" His voice grew louder. "Just the boss's assistant! Can you believe her? I was going to turn her in for fraud!"

  I was pretty sure he couldn't have her arrested since pretending to be a furniture salesman wasn't exactly illegal.

  "I mean…" Stan suddenly frowned. "It's awful she died so young. Let's move on, shall we? It's getting late, and you said you needed a bed tonight?"

  "Yes. Let's move on…" Rex's voice behind me made me jump. "Hello." He held out his hand. "I'm the fiancé. I was worried I wouldn't be able to join my lovely bride-to-be, but I got out of work early."

  Kelly's eyebrows went up and seemed to say busted…if eyebrows could talk.

  "Hi, honey." I slid my arm through Rex's. I always could recover quickly. "What do you think? Dark wood or light?"

  A look of disappointment flashed across Stan's face. If I had to guess, I'd say he'd thought he could take advantage of us because we were women. But now with a man here, he'd have to actually work for his commission.

  "Is your mother really coming tomorrow?" Rex whispered. "Or were you trying to investigate something you have no business investigating?"

  "Yes. Tomorrow. She wants to review the details for the wedding." I put on my most innocent expression—which is sometimes mistaken for my most guilty expression, depending who you ask.

  "Don't think I don't see through what you're doing." He arched his brow—a move that always sent a little jolt through me. Seriously, this man was ridiculously handsome…and for reasons I never fully understood, he was mine.

  Stan led us to what he called a blonde wood set. Kelly was trying to keep him busy, asking a ridiculous amount of questions about box springs and drawer knobs.

  "I had no idea she was coming tomorrow." I tried to look contrite. "It was late. We didn't think we'd make it to Des Moines in time. And we have a perfectly good furniture store here."

  My motive was solid. Would he buy it?

  "Fine. We're here to get a bed. And just a bed. No information, no interrogation. Just a bed."

  No matter what we did for the next hour, Rex shut us down. When Kelly asked again if Stan was truly okay after hearing about the death of his colleague, Rex asked a technical question about how mattresses are stuffed. When I tried to slip away to use the restroom (read—snoop around), Rex took me by the elbow and steered me to another piece of furniture.

  Stan was too worried about losing money on this sale to even notice what was going on. In the end, I bought an oak bed with a headboard and footboard, two matching nightstands (why does one person need two nightstands?), a dresser, and a wardrobe (which I can't believe I got talked into because I have a perfectly good closet). Rex expertly tied the mattress and box spring to the top of the van and managed to fit the headboard, footboard, frame, and nightstands inside. The dresser and wardrobe would be delivered later.

  "Sorry about that," I whispered under the guise of hugging Kelly good-bye.

  "No problem. Just a small setback," she said softly.

  It turned out to be a good idea having Rex along. He helped me carry the stuff into the guest room, set up the bed, and even drag the old stuff to the garage. I made up Mom's bed with my best sheets and comforter, and the room looked like new. Okay, so there were a couple of bullet holes in the floor, but I just slid the bed over the top of them.

  We settled in the kitchen with some wine and Oreos afterwards (turns out I should've bought more actual groceries). Rex was giving off his I'm now going to lecture you on the perils of investigating vibe.

  "When can we work on the float again?" I asked quickly.

  He frowned. "I hadn't thought of that. I guess the parade's coming up, right?"

  "I could move it into town. I just don't know if I can find someplace to put it at this short notice," I answered. "Any thoughts on where we can work on it?"

  I'd like to think that Rex felt a little bad for us since his crime scene was putting th
e squeeze on some prime chicken wire stuffing time.

  "Let me sleep on that," he said finally. His cell buzzed, and he frowned at it.

  "Something going on with the case?" I asked innocently, my fingers twitching to grab my phone.

  He shook his head. "No. And I wouldn't tell you if it was. I'd better go."

  Rex stood up, pulled me into his arms, and kissed me. He was an amazing kisser. My heartbeat quickened and my knees went a bit wobbly, and for a moment, I was going to beg him to stay. But I wanted to get rid of him so I could work on my plans for investigation domination.

  He tipped my chin up with his thumb. "I'm sorry. We haven't had much time together recently."

  I pressed my face against his chest. He smelled like soap, and I took a deep breath. "It's okay," I mumbled into his chest. "Let's make some time later."

  He kissed my forehead gently. "Deal. And I'll think about someplace you and your troop can work on your float," he said as he walked out the door with a wink.

  A second later, he opened the door and set Philby inside. "She was on my front porch, scratching to get in," Rex said as he left again. I suppose it's unusual for a couple to live across the street from each other. It made perfect sense to my cats, who liked to be hauled back and forth between both houses.

  Philby pressed up against the front door and let out a caterwaul I'd never heard before. She really wanted to get back to Rex's house for some hunting. Maybe I should let a few mice loose in the house here from time to time, just to make her feel important.

  I worked late into the night, getting Mom's room just right, but Didi the Witch's death took up most of my thoughts. It was kind of nice that she wasn't a terrorist or spy, since most of the murders that took place around me were. And then I thought it was probably wrong of me to think of any murder as kind of nice.

  So, who were our suspects? At least it didn't include me this time. While I was the one who found the body, Didi Stoker had no connection to me whatsoever. I didn't know her. I wasn't a client or somebody she'd wronged.

  Somehow, I got lucky and found a pad of paper and a pencil in my kitchen. Sitting down at the breakfast bar, I started listing my suspects, which included Andy Andrews (Ava's dad), Stan the co-worker who seemed ridiculously happy she was dead, and possibly the teachers at our local school, who'd been upset with her. However, if it was the teachers, I'd find a way to cover it up. Because the school and its teachers were amazing.

 

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