Dating Is Murder

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Dating Is Murder Page 1

by Patti Benning




  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  DATING IS MURDER

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  EPILOGUE

  Dating

  is

  Murder

  Asheville Cozy Mysteries

  Book Four

  By

  Patti Benning

  Copyright 2018 Summer Prescott Books

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication nor any of the information herein may be quoted from, nor reproduced, in any form, including but not limited to: printing, scanning, photocopying or any other printed, digital, or audio formats, without prior express written consent of the copyright holder.

  **This book is a work of fiction. Any similarities to persons, living or dead, places of business, or situations past or present, is completely unintentional.

  Author’s Note: On the next page, you’ll find out how to access all of my books easily, as well as locate books by best-selling author, Summer Prescott. I’d love to hear your thoughts on my books, the storylines, and anything else that you’d like to comment on – reader feedback is very important to me. Please see the following page for my publisher’s contact information. If you’d like to be on her list of “folks to contact” with updates, release and sales notifications, etc…just shoot her an email and let her know. Thanks for reading!

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  DATING IS

  MURDER

  Asheville Cozy Mysteries

  Book Four

  CHAPTER ONE

  * * *

  Autumn Roth carried the cutting board over to the stove and dumped the sliced chicken into the frying pan. It gave a satisfying sizzle when it hit the olive oil. There were bunches of fresh basil and sage on the counter, and a block of Parmesan cheese waiting in the fridge. Once the chicken was done, she would toss it with the fresh herbs, a dash of olive oil, grated cheese, then mix it with pasta for a light lunch dish.

  She never felt happier than when she was cooking, and it didn't hurt to know that there were thirty people out there who would soon be enjoying the food that she made. Feeling useful was a wonderful thing. She had only been working at the nursing home for a couple of months, but already she couldn't imagine working anywhere else.

  While the chicken cooked, she began cutting the fresh herbs, grating the cheese, and then took the pasta, which was already boiling on the stove, off the burner and drained it in the sink. Making food for the entire facility had taken some practice, but she thought she had the hang of it now. There was a big difference between making a meal for one and making it for thirty.

  While she worked, she was joined by a co-worker who began spooning cottage cheese into individual serving dishes. The young woman, Emily, had worked with Autumn at Green River Grocery, and when the store had shut down, Autumn had been happy to put in a good word for her with the nursing home's director. She was a good employee and a hard worker, and it was nice to have a familiar face around.

  “Did you finish getting the room ready?” Autumn asked.

  “Yep, it's all set,” Emily replied. “This is exciting. He's the first new person to arrive since I started working here.”

  “He’s the first one for me, too,” Autumn said. “I'm looking forward to it.”

  Usually, when Asheville Meadows had room for a new resident, it meant that one of the other residents had passed away. In this case, the situation wasn’t as sad. One of their oldest residents had been able to go and live with her daughter, and everyone there was thrilled for her. Such a cheerful reason for a vacancy made everyone even happier to be welcoming a new resident into the fold.

  “Do you know anything about him?” Emily asked. “Did Mr. Holt share his file with you?”

  “No. He's been pretty secretive about the whole thing. He acts like it's some big surprise. I haven't been here long enough to know if that's normal or not.”

  “From what some of the other staff members say, it's not. They usually know all about the person before they get here.”

  “That's so odd,” Autumn said. “I guess we'll learn who it is soon, though. He’s supposed to be here before lunch, isn't he?”

  Emily nodded. “He should be here any second. I can't wait.”

  Autumn grabbed a wooden spoon and stirred the chicken, making sure none of the pieces stuck to the pan. It was almost done cooking; then she could mix it in with the pasta, herbs, cheese, and the meal would be mostly complete. The cottage cheese cups that Emily was working on would be the finishing touch.

  She had even made enough pasta to set some aside for the homemade pasta salad that they would be having for lunch the next day. She was glad that she had thought to do so, because dinner would be busy, and she wanted to get the salad made as soon as possible. Pasta salad was always better the next day and making it tonight would give her a bit of a break tomorrow.

  Someone knocked on the door frame, and she turned to see Nicholas Holt, the director of the nursing home, standing in the doorway. “He's here,” he said with a grin.

  Emily gave an excited squeal and followed him out of the kitchen, while Autumn hurried to finish the chicken. As soon as it was cooked through, she turned off the burner and left the kitchen to join what must have been the entire nursing home in the common area.

  The residents and staff were all gathered around one person in the middle of the room. He had stark white hair that stuck out every which way and was leaning heavily on a cane. Beside him was a gangly young man who was holding onto a suitcase, and who looked uncomfortable with the press of people around them.

  “All right, everyone,” Nick said. “We've all said hi. Let's give Mr. Phillips some space and let him get settled in. You'll see him at lunch in just a few minutes.”

  The residents and staff alike seemed reluctant to back away. Why are they so interested in him? she wondered. She didn't know how they normally greeted new residents, but this seemed over-the-top. She thought she even caught the word “autograph.”

  “Autumn, over here,” Nick called out, waving her over. “Mr. Phillips, I'd like you to meet Autumn Roth. She's one of the two cooks here. She will be making most of your meals during the week. If you have any special requests or are going to be having guests over with allergies, she's the one to talk to.”

  “It's nice to meet you,” the man said, shaking her hand. “You can call me Westley.”

  “Westley Phillips… you’re an author, aren’t you? Mystery books, right?”

  “That I am,” he said with a chuckle. “I seem to have quite a few fans here.”

  “No wonder people were crowding around you. I was wondering about that.”

  “They'll settle down once you've been here for a couple of days,”
Nick said. “If anyone ever starts to bother you, just find me or Autumn and we’ll take care of it.”

  “Oh, I'm sure that won't be necessary.” Seemingly finished with the subject, he turned and grabbed the elbow of the young man who was standing slightly behind him. “I'd like to introduce my grandson, Adrian Phillips. He lives in town with his stepfather, which is one of the reasons I decided to live here instead of at a home in one of the bigger cities. I'm sure you'll be seeing a lot of him; he’s an aspiring writer, but he wants to write screenplays instead of novels. Maybe one day he’ll write a movie about me. Wouldn’t that be a treat?”

  “It certainly would. It's nice to meet you both,” Autumn said. “I should get back to the kitchen, though, I still have to put the meal together. We'll be eating in about fifteen minutes.”

  “I'm looking forward to it,” Westley said.

  “I'll take you to your room,” Nick said. He gave Autumn a smile over his shoulder as he led the two men away. She grinned back. She hadn't read any of Westley Phillips’ books, but she had recognized the name. Her best friend, Alicia, was a fan. She would have to tell her all about this meeting, and maybe borrow some of his books while she was at it. It looked like she had some reading to do this evening.

  Nick found her while the residents were eating lunch. Autumn was in the kitchen, getting a head start on some of the dishes when he popped in.

  “I didn't know if you were planning on going home during your break or not, and I wanted to catch you before you left if you are. Do you want to go out on Saturday night? There’s a nice restaurant about an hour away I thought we'd try. I know it's a bit of a drive, but now that the snow's gone it shouldn't be too bad. There’s a movie theater right across the street from it, too.”

  “Sure,” Autumn said. “That sounds nice. I’ll be looking forward to it.”

  “Good. I'll pick you up at your house at seven?”

  “Perfect,” she said. “So, how did Westley like his room?”

  “I think he found it to his satisfaction. He’s very polite, so it's hard to tell. He is certainly popular with everyone else. His table is completely full out there.”

  “Well, his arrival is the most interesting thing to happen in a while,” she said. “I don't blame them. If he was my favorite author, I'd probably be out there too. I hate to admit it, but I haven't actually read any of his books.”

  “I picked up a couple when I saw his name on the list,” Nick said. “They’re pretty good. I’ll loan them to you if you'd like.”

  “I think I’ve got that covered,” she said. “My friend Alicia is a big fan and will probably be happy to loan me some of his books.”

  They chatted for a few more minutes, then he excused himself to take a call in his office. Autumn finished cleaning all of the pots and pans she had used to make lunch and began scrubbing the plates that were slowly trickling in from the dining room. While she wasn't as passionate about doing the dishes as she was about cooking, she didn't mind it. It was a relaxing way to spend her time between meals and gave her plenty of time to plan her evening. Tomorrow was her morning off, so she wouldn't have to be at the nursing home until eleven. She could go home and stay up as late as she wanted reading, then do whatever she wanted in the morning. Try as she might, she couldn't imagine a better job.

  CHAPTER TWO

  * * *

  Pancakes were the one thing that she always had trouble with. Try as she might, they always turned into an ugly mess when she went to flip them.

  “You’ll have to teach me how to do that,” Autumn said as Alicia performed another perfect pancake flip.

  “I told you, it's all in the wrists. You can’t do it too slowly, or you’ll end up with a mess.”

  “Alicia always makes the best pancakes,” said Bonnie. It was the first time Autumn had heard the other woman speak, other than when she had introduced herself. She was a friend from Alicia’s book club, which Autumn had never attended.

  “I'm jealous. Mine never look so perfect.”

  It was Tuesday morning, and the three of them had met at Alicia’s house for breakfast. After Autumn told her friend about the nursing home's newest resident, Alicia had bombarded her with questions. Bonnie was another fan of Westley Phillips’ writing, and was equally excited to hear all about him, so Alicia had invited them both over for breakfast where they would be able to grill Autumn at their leisure.

  Autumn had never met Bonnie before, and was struck by her shyness. She was in her mid-thirties, with dark brown hair that she wore loose, and an almost painfully quiet demeanor. She seemed nice, but Autumn sensed that this was a person that it would take a while for her to truly get to know.

  “Enough about my pancakes,” Alicia said. “Tell us about the writer. I can't believe you actually met him. I tried to go to one of his book signings years ago, but the line was too long, and I didn't have the time to wait. Would it be weird if I had dinner at the nursing home one night just so I could meet him?”

  “Let the poor guy get settled in before you start following him around,” Autumn said. “You can come meet him eventually but give it a week or two. Nick is trying to encourage both the residents and the staff to treat him just like everyone else. Asheville Meadows is his home. He shouldn't feel hounded in his own home.”

  “I know, I know. you're right,” Alicia said. “But I still really want to meet him.” She paused to cough, turning away from the stove.

  “So do I,” Bonnie said. “I've never actually met an author before. You are so lucky to be able to work with him.”

  “All I'm going to be doing is cooking his meals, the same as I do for everyone else,” Autumn said. “Speaking of cooking, it’s pretty nice to have someone make breakfast for me for once.”

  “I’m just buttering you up so you’ll let me meet Mr. Phillips,” Alicia said, winking at her.

  Autumn smiled, then looked down as her phone buzzed. It was a text message from someone she hadn't expected to hear from again.

  “What is it?” Alicia asked. “You look concerned all of a sudden.”

  “Oh, it's just a message from Jessie. He’s that guy I went out on a coffee date with a couple of weeks ago, remember?”

  “I thought you decided not to see him anymore?” her friend said.

  “I did. I mean, I didn't tell him I was never going to see him again, but I thought he got the message when I turned down the next few dates he asked me out on. I guess he didn’t.”

  “Why don't you want to see him anymore?” Bonnie asked. “Was he horrible?”

  “It has nothing to do with him,” Autumn said. “I went out with him back when I wasn't quite sure what was going on with Nick and me. We had coffee and talked a bit, that’s it. Then I realized that Nick and I were getting more serious than I had thought, and I decided not to see anyone else. He's a nice guy. I feel bad for him.”

  “You should give Bonnie his number,” Alicia said. “He works for the city, doesn’t he? Bonnie works in the mayor's office. I'm sure they would have a lot to talk about.”

  “Oh, I don't know,” Bonnie said. “I've never asked someone out before. Wouldn't it be odd for the woman to take the lead like that?”

  “Not at all,” Autumn said. “But if you want, I'll tell him that I'm seeing someone else, but I have a friend who might like to go out sometime. I'll give him your number, and then he’ll be the one to call.”

  “I don't know…” Bonnie repeated, biting her lip. “What does he look like? Is he nice? Are you absolutely sure he's not married? Because I've had that happen to me before.”

  Autumn laughed. “He's not married. He looks pretty average, I guess. He’s kind of cute. And yes, he's very nice. Come on, live a little. What's the worst that can happen? Even if the two of you don't hit it off, the worst-case scenario is that you waste an hour or two of your time.”

  “I suppose you're right,” the other woman said. “Oh, all right then. Go ahead and give him my number. I'll never meet anyone if I don't start taki
ng some chances.”

  Autumn responded to Jessie's text and told him that she was seeing someone else, but she knew a very nice woman who might like to go out with him and offered to give him Bonnie's number. All three of them waited on tenterhooks until he texted back.

  “He wants your number,” Autumn said, smiling. “This is fun. I feel like a matchmaker.”

  “I’m happy for you, Bonnie,” Alicia said. “It will be good for you to get out and start dating again.”

  It was a pleasant morning, even though it didn’t last long before she had to go to work. She often felt that she didn't take enough time to just be with friends and family. There was always something else to focus on, something pulling her attention away from the little things in life like making pancakes with her best friend.

  When Bonnie got up to use the restroom after they ate, Alicia took the chair next to Autumn and said, “Are we still on for our walk tomorrow?”

 

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