Cozy Suburbs Mystery Box Set

by Lisa B. Thomas

  Wendy Fairmont, Maycroft’s foremost party planner, ordered everyone around like a drill sergeant. “That’s only nine tables!” she yelled at the men from the rental store. “We have to fit eleven tables in this room. And don’t scratch the piano!” She looked in her notebook at the sketches of the table decorations. “Cindy, don’t forget that the red napkins go on the white tablecloths, and the white ones go on the red.”

  “Got it,” Cindy said. “How does this table look with the poinsettias and candles?”

  “Beautiful. But don’t forget the place cards. I’m going to see how the outside of the house is coming. Keep an eye on things in here.” Wendy walked out the front door to see if the holiday lighting was sufficient. She had designed an ivy swag to frame the front entrance, and the florist was having a hard time keeping it attached.

  “This thing is heavy,” Jillian said. “I think we are going to have to drill in some anchors to keep it from falling.”

  “Absolutely not! Carolyn will kill me if you damage her house. What if we put it between the columns instead? We can add another tree to the front porch.” Wendy was already dialing her assistant at the warehouse before the florist could answer.

  Estelle Fitzhugh, Carolyn’s daughter and caregiver, ducked under the massive decoration as she walked out the front door. Wendy sensed her stress about everything being finished on time.

  “You’re not supposed to be out here,” Wendy said as she saw the worried look on Estelle’s face. “You know you can trust me. We’ve pulled this off perfectly for five years in a row.”

  “I know, and I do trust you. But mother is particularly anxious this year since she has increased the guest list by almost twenty people.”

  Estelle looked nothing like her seventy-five-year-old mother except for the crocheted shawl she had draped around her shoulders. Her father had passed away nearly twenty years earlier, and she had spent most of her adulthood looking after her wheelchair-bound mother. And every year she told Wendy she worried that this year’s party might be her mother’s last.

  “If you give me about two more hours, you won’t even recognize the place.” Wendy put her hands on the back of Estelle’s shoulders and gently pushed her up the steps to the front door. “Besides, I don’t want you to catch a cold standing out here. I’ll let you know when it’s ready.”

  Estelle stopped in the doorway. “Don’t forget the boxes for the book donations. Mother wants them right inside the front door.”

  Wendy nodded. “The donation boxes are ready at the warehouse. They’re wrapped in silver foil paper with big red bows, just like we planned.” Estelle seemed appeased and went back into the house.

  Wendy was used to dealing with nervous clients. It was a big part of the job. But her firm confidence always seemed to reassure them. Except for the groom’s grandmother falling into the reflection pool at the Holden/Brooks wedding, she was proud to say all of her events came off without a hitch. Still, she kept her fingers crossed when no one was looking.

  THE LIBRARY WAS TOMB-quiet except for the Mid-Counties Writer’s Club gathered in the reading room. A burst of laughter from the group greeted Deena as she came through the front door.

  “Hey there,” Betty said as Deena walked up to the front counter with a stash of books under her arm. “I thought you’d be at the courthouse covering the big verdict that’s due in today.”

  “Actually, that’s Dan’s beat. He covers crime. I cover politics.” Deena set three books on the counter to check in.

  “Oh, I see. That’s why you wrote all those articles on the sheriff’s race. I still can’t believe Bob Lowry won again.”

  Deena laughed. “He’s not such a bad guy. Just a bit of a hot head.”

  “Speaking of heads, what did you do to yours?” The librarian squinted at Deena’s shiner.

  “I ran into a beam in the attic looking for my Christmas wreaths.”

  “If I didn’t know how madly in love you and Gary were, I’d be sending you to the Fitzhugh Women’s Shelter instead of the Fitzhugh Library.” Betty looked at the titles of the novels Deena had set on the counter. “Did you like any of these?”

  “I only had time to read this one.” She pointed to a cozy mystery with a dog on the cover. “I seem to sleep much better now that I’m not teaching. I can only get through a few pages before I’m off to sleepy-land.”

  “Do you want to check these other two back out?”

  “Better not. Now that the holidays are here, I won’t have much time for reading. I’m still trying to finish the latest Stephen King. It’s got me sleeping with the lights on. Speaking of that, I was hoping you could help me out. Gary and I were invited to Carolyn Fitzhugh’s party tomorrow night, and I—”

  “—was wondering if I knew her favorite book,” Betty said. “You are at least the tenth person to ask me that in the last week.”

  Deena plunged her hands into the pockets of her new North Face jacket and sighed in disappointment. “I thought I was being so clever by asking you.”

  Betty scanned the returned books and put them on the cart to be re-shelved. “Ever since the invitations went out saying that each guest was to bring a book for a library donation, everyone has been trying to figure out Carolyn’s favorites. They want to be in her good graces.”

  “I get that. This is the first time we’ve been invited, and I hope it won’t be the last. Even though Gary and I have lived here over twenty years, the highbrows of Maycroft still see us as tourists. Luckily, Gary’s financial group handles a lot of their business. Also, I got a chance to meet the ‘Grand Dame of Maycroft’ last summer when I was working on my uncle’s murder case. For some reason, Carolyn seemed to like me.”

  “And there’s Russell, of course,” Betty added.

  “Russell? What does my brother have to do with it?”

  “Rumor has it that he and Estelle Fitzhugh are seeing each other.”

  Deena’s eyes widened as if seeing George Clooney ride in on a white horse. “What? You’re kidding?” She shook her head in amazement. She had a hard time picturing her laid-back brother dating a rich woman like Estelle Fitzhugh. “I’ll be calling him as soon as I get home.”

  Betty laughed. “So what book were you thinking of buying for the party?”

  “All I could come up with was Gone with the Wind.”

  “Heavens no! Carolyn hates that book. She says Scarlet O’Hara is a silly twit.”

  Deena grimaced. “So what do you suggest?”

  “Carolyn gave me strict instructions not to help anyone. But since you are a friend, I’ll give you a hint. Here’s the book I bought to take.” Betty held up a brown paper bag and smiled. “It’s a memoir.”

  “You aren’t going to take it out of the bag?”

  “Nope. That would be cheating.” She slipped the package back under the desk. “Now you’d better get to the bookstore before they close. The party is tomorrow, and you don’t want to get stuck buying erotica.”

  “Thanks for nothing,” Deena said and winked at her friend. “I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

  “By the way,” Betty called after her, “what book is Gary bringing?”

  “Fifty Shades of Grey.”

  Chapter 2

  Russell Sinclair stood straight as a soldier facing his best friend Cliff. “How do I look?”

  “Pretty good for an old country boy who doesn’t know the difference between champagne and Mountain Dew. I’ll bet the boys down at the VFW wouldn’t recognize you.” Cliff reached over to fix the knot on Russell’s tie. “I thought the only time I’d ever catch you wearing a monkey suit would be in your coffin.”

  “Thanks,” Russell said as he looked at himself in the bathroom mirror. He dabbed at a bloody spot on his chin where he had cut himself shaving. “This is why I don’t date. Way too much trouble.”

  “Well, you’re dating now, and not just anyone. Estelle Fitzhugh is in line to be one of the richest women this side of the Trinity River before too long. Go big or go ho
me, man.”

  Russell pulled at his sleeves, wondering if one was longer than the other. “You know I don’t care about money. A man just gets lonely—not that you aren’t good company, of course.”

  “Hey, you don’t have to tell me.” Cliff walked over to sit on the corner of the bed. “Gail has only been gone a little over two years, and I miss her every day.”

  Russell patted his friend on the shoulder.

  Russell and Cliff had been friends since high school. When Russell couldn’t seem to get his bearings after returning home from the army, Cliff gave him a job in his appliance repair shop. Together, they had successfully run the business for thirty years. For the past fifteen years, they had lived next door to each other in the small, country town of Crossbow, about twenty miles from Maycroft.

  “By the way,” Cliff asked, “what did your sister say when you told her about Estelle?”

  “Actually, she heard it from someone in town. Called me yesterday. She was shocked at first, but then carried on like a lovesick teenager. Asked me a dozen questions. I reminded her that it was her idea in the first place and to mind her own business.”

  Cliff chuckled. “That’ll never happen.”

  “I know, but it’s just so much fun to drive her crazy.”

  Russell was three years older than Deena, although she usually acted like a mother hen. Once they were grown and out of the house, their parents moved off to Hawaii. Even though they visited every year or so, Deena had been the one to take care of Russell, helping him over occasional rough patches. He suffered from bouts of depression and migraines, but she was always there for him. Gary had even turned down a job in Florida so she could stay close by. Although she said it was because she loved living in Maycroft, he knew it was so she could look after him.

  He slipped on his dark blue suit coat and adjusted his sleeves again. Leaning toward the mirror, he tamped down a stubborn section of hair and threw away the piece of tissue stuck to his chin. “That’s it,” he said, turning back to Cliff. “That’s as good as it gets.” He picked up the book he had bought for the party.

  Cliff stood up to face his friend. “I would offer one suggestion, Cinderella. How ‘bout you let me cut that price tag off your sleeve before you head off to the ball.”

  GARY AND DEENA TURNED down the scenic, tree-lined road that led to the largest homes in Maycroft. Most of the estates’ residents would be at Carolyn’s party. A glow in the distance brightened the night sky above the Fitzhugh house. She wanted to tell Gary to drive faster but knew he’d just tell her to calm down.

  Except for an occasional wedding or funeral, Deena had few opportunities to play dress up. Although she liked the casual lifestyle of living in a small North Texas town, it was fun now and again to wear fancy clothes and sparkly jewelry. Maycroft was the kind of place where men could wear cowboy boots just about anywhere, and young people even wore jeans to church. She drew the line at that, but she had gotten in the habit of wearing slacks more often than dresses or skirts.

  “Any special instructions for me?” Gary pulled behind several other cars waiting in line for the valet.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You usually give me instructions like, don’t belch, don’t loosen your tie, don’t look up anyone’s skirt.”

  “Seriously, you’re a grown man. You know how to behave in public.” She smiled and then added, “But don’t do any of those things.”

  As they pulled up to the valet stand, one young man opened Deena’s door while another took Gary’s keys and gave him a receipt.

  “Hey, Mrs. Sharpe. You look nice.” Holding out his hand was one of Deena’s former journalism students.

  “Hey, you. Making a little extra money for college, I see.”

  “Yes ma’am. Just got finished with finals. Hoping to keep my 3.7 average.”

  “Way to go! Keep up the good work.”

  Deena made sure Gary had the books they had brought. Her palms were sweaty despite the cold evening wind. She looked around for Jordan, the photographer at the newspaper who often took pictures at social events. Not exactly paparazzi but close enough. He must have snapped a few shots before it got dark, she thought.

  She squeezed Gary’s hand. “The place looks so beautiful. I feel like a princess.”

  “Just don’t trip on your way up the steps.” Gary offered his arm. “Remember when you—”

  “Yes, I remember. So much for being a princess.”

  Irene, the housekeeper who had greeted Deena the first time she met Carolyn Fitzhugh, opened the door and took their coats, motioning for them to walk toward the candlelit ballroom where Carolyn was seated in her wheelchair. Estelle stood on duty behind her. Deena looked around for Russell but couldn’t find him.

  “Wow,” Gary whispered as they waited behind several other couples to enter the room. “I had no idea how huge this place was. It looks even bigger than from the outside.”

  Deena squeezed his hand and reached for her book. Her knees felt rubbery as she looked around for familiar faces and spotted Sandra and Ian. She watched as the couples ahead of them greeted the two Fitzhugh women.

  Carolyn was the epitome of Southern grandeur. She wore a red velvet skirt with a black satin jacket. Across her shoulders was draped a heavy, white lace shawl that puddled in her lap. Although her blush was a little too bright, her ruby and diamond earrings glistened around her face and added a twinkle to her eyes.

  “Hello Mr. and Mrs. Sharpe. I’m so glad you could come.” Carolyn reached out a gloved hand to Gary.

  “Mrs. Fitzhugh, this is my husband, Gary.”

  “So glad to meet you, Gary. Please call me Carolyn.”

  “Nice to meet you, Carolyn.” Gary’s six-foot frame towered over her, so he bent down and nodded.

  “Not only handsome, but a real gentleman,” Carolyn said as though greeting a beau. “What books have you brought me tonight?”

  “I love a good murder mystery,” Gary said, “so I brought my favorite Sherlock Holmes.”

  “Classic mystery. Excellent!” She motioned to one of the large donation boxes. “And you my dear? Let me guess. To Kill a Mockingbird or Gone with the Wind?”

  “Neither, actually.” She took a deep breath. “It’s a new biography that just came out about Eleanor Roosevelt.” Her hands shook as she held it up.

  Carolyn hesitated and then said, “Very nice. Looks like someone did her homework.” She gave Deena a little nod.

  Deena let out a sigh of relief. At that moment, though, her eyes began to water and her nose tingled. “Thank-choo,” she said, sneezing all over her hostess. “Oh dear! I’m so sorry.” She felt her face flush and for a moment thought she might hyperventilate.

  Estelle covered her mouth to camouflage a laugh.

  Carolyn pulled out a lace hankie from under her voluminous shawl and dabbed at her cheek. “Don’t worry, my dear,” she said. “As I recall, I spat all over you the first time we met.”

  Deena gave her a half-hearted smile and started down into a curtsy when Gary tugged on her arm to follow him. “What the heck, Deena Jo? You can never lecture me about my manners again.” He led her around the maze of tables toward Sandra who was laughing and motioning to them.

  “You’re at our table,” she said, gasping for breath. “Classic entrance, Deena, really!”

  “Ha-ha. Glad you enjoyed it.” She sat down, looking around at some of the other guests who had obviously witnessed her humiliation. “Now everyone will know me as ‘that woman who sneezed all over Carolyn.’”

  “No, they won’t,” Sandra said. “They’ll know you as ‘that woman with the giant goose egg on her forehead who sneezed all over Carolyn!’” Deena winced and pulled at her hair.

  “Don’t get too close if you’re coming down with something,” Gary said.

  “I’m not! I’m perfectly fine. Or at least I was.” She reached up and touched the bulge on her forehead that had begun to throb.

  “No worries,” Ian said, leaning
across his wife. “These things can be rather stuffy. We could all use a good laugh.”

  “Do you know many of these people?” Deena tried to look around without turning her head.

  “Actually,” Ian said, “our law firm represents most of the people here.”

  “I thought you were a public defender, watching out for the little guy.” Deena opened her napkin and spread it across her lap, her hands still quivering.

  “He is,” Sandra said. “He does family law for his firm, and they assign him the pro bono cases for the county.” She took a sip of her iced tea and then reached for the sweetener.

  Sandra Davis ran the Second Chance Thrift Shop that raised money for the local animal shelter. Born and raised in Maycroft, she was well known in town for her charity work.

  “I’m surprised Carolyn’s not serving wine,” Deena whispered to Sandra.

  “We’re in the Bible Belt, and most of the older fuddy-duddies still pretend not to drink. There will be champagne with dessert.”

  A couple who appeared to be in their late seventies tottered up to the table. The gentleman nodded. “Hello. We are Edwin and Penelope Burrows. I believe we are your tablemates.”

  Gary and Ian stood, and Gary pulled out the chair for Penelope. After introductions, Deena looked over her shoulder to see a flock of penguins swoop in delivering the first course. They moved quickly and precisely, like a scene right out of Hello Dolly.

  Deena savored the spinach salad drizzled with mustard vinaigrette. “This is delish,” she said to Sandra. “Who is the caterer?”

  “I think it’s Chef Jacques,” she said, using the French pronunciation. “He catered last year, too.”

  The scent of sweet pine from wreaths and lighted trees filled the room. A tuxedoed gentleman tinkled out carols on the grand piano, adding to the cheery atmosphere. The large room took on a warm, cozy feel now that all the guests were seated and relaxed.