Cozy Suburbs Mystery Box Set

by Lisa B. Thomas

  Gary sat down and looked for a waitress. “Should we wait, or should I go up to the bar?”

  Deena leaned over to hear him above the sound of Willie Nelson blaring through the speakers. “Let’s wait. I can ask the waitress to point out Katy Wilde.”

  After a few minutes of checking out the crowd, a girl in cut-off shorts and boots walked up to their table. “What can I get you?” She tugged at the red-checkered blouse tied around her mid-section.

  “A couple of Coors Lights,” Gary said.

  “We only have Budweiser. Bud Light okay?”

  He nodded and she pranced off to the bar. Gary rolled his eyes. “Nice place. We should come here more often.”

  Deena gave him a shot to the arm. “Relax. We might as well have fun.”

  “Fun would be sitting at home watching a basketball game or going to the movies.”

  She agreed. If it weren’t for her interest in talking to Katy, she’d probably be curled up in her pajamas and watching a movie in the bed with Hurley.

  The waitress returned with their drinks. She leaned down a little lower than necessary toward Gary. “Do you want to pay for these now or start a tab?”

  Without checking with Deena, he reached in his pocket and pulled out some cash.

  Deena motioned to the waitress. “Can you tell me where to find Katy Wilde?”

  “Sure, she’s behind the bar. There.” She pointed to a pretty brunette.

  Deena studied the young woman for a moment. Several groups of people walked in and obstructed her view. She leaned toward Gary. “It’s just going to get busier. Maybe I should go talk to her now.”

  “Good idea.”

  Deena picked up her bottle and weaved her way through the tables. There was an open stool at the bar, so she grabbed it.

  As she sat down, the man next to her turned and gave her an exaggerated eyeing, checking her out from head to toe. “Well, aren’t you the handsomest woman in these parts.” His voice boomed, and several other patrons turned to look. His rancid beer breath nearly knocked her off the stool.

  Annoyed at the attention, Deena shot him her best brush-off face and fixed her eyes on Katy, hoping telepathy would make the girl look her way.

  Katy worked quickly and quietly, filling orders as the waitresses called them out over the din.

  “Buy you a beer?” Slim Pickens obviously didn’t get the message.

  Deena held up her left hand and jiggled her wedding ring with her thumb.

  He flopped his arm across her shoulder. “Oh, you’re married! That doesn’t stop us from getting together around here! Does it, Katy?”

  The girl’s eyes shot daggers, and she nodded to someone standing off to the side of the room. As quick as lightning, a burly man grabbed Slim by the shoulders and escorted him to the door. Deena heard a bit of discussion about calling for a ride. Then they were gone.

  “Sorry about that,” Katy said as she wiped the bar in front of Deena.

  “Thanks. Not your fault.” Deena didn’t want to waste any time. “Are you Katy?”

  “Yes.” She crinkled her face. “Do I know you?”

  “No. I’m Deena Sharpe.” She reached her hand across the counter, and Katy gave it a shake.

  “Your name is familiar, but I can’t think of where I’ve heard it.”

  Deena leaned forward and lowered her voice. “I work for the Tribune. I’m the one who found your grandmother.”

  Katy covered her mouth and stood motionless.

  Deena knew she had to talk fast before she got the boot and ended up on the pavement with Slim. “I’m so sorry for your loss. Really.” She shook her head sympathetically. “I was hoping to talk to you in private. I’m anxious to find out who killed your grandmother.”

  Deena was prepared for three reactions. One, Katy might blow up at her for sticking her nose in. A possible sign of guilt. Two, she might be angry, blaming Deena. A stage of grief. Or three, she might agree to meet with her, desperate to find some answers.

  Luckily, it was the third. Katy regained her composure and nodded toward the end of the bar.

  Deena stood up and glanced over at Gary who was watching her every move. She walked over to Katy.

  “I’m off tomorrow. I’ll be at my grandmother’s house all afternoon. Come by then.”

  Deena smiled, nodding in agreement. She headed out the door with Gary on her heels.

  “Leaving so soon?” Gary mocked as they walked toward the car.

  “I did it. I got her to agree to talk to me. I’m meeting her tomorrow afternoon.”

  “Great.” He opened her door and bowed as though welcoming a princess into his carriage. “The night’s still young, though. Want to go to a movie?”

  “Sure. As long as it’s not a comedy. I’m in the mood for a good mystery.”

  Chapter 16

  As soon as she walked in the door after church, Deena pulled off her slacks and heels and headed for the bedroom. “I thought Rev. Marino would never quit today. I can’t even imagine what he’s planning for Easter.”

  Gary picked up the TV remote, a move that was almost mechanical when his feet hit the hardwood floor of the den. “I think in the spring he feels like he has to make up for cutting services short in the fall so everyone can get home in time to watch the Cowboys.”

  “Maybe so. Would you mind making us a couple of sandwiches? I want to hurry up and get over to see Katy. And remember, you’re not the sandwich-Picasso. Just slap everything on there and be done with it.”

  It must be true that opposites attract. Gary was neat and deliberate in everything he did. His extreme attention to detail made him an accountant extraordinaire, but Deena often found it tedious to wait for him to complete a simple task like brushing his teeth or sorting the laundry.

  Since the dark skies had finally cleared, it was warm enough for crop pants. Pulling them out for the first time was a spring ritual, much like planting petunias or changing the batteries in the smoke alarms.

  Inside what would have been a walk-in closet if it hadn’t been piled high with boxes of who-knows-whats, colorful blouses tempted her, but none matched the purple toenails sprouting from her sandals. She wondered what the inside of Georgia Parks closet must look like. Obviously, Deena wasn’t as bold a dresser. She finally decided on a white top and her khaki pants. She looked in the full-length mirror. All she was missing was a My Little Pony doll.

  She scarfed down her sandwich, offering her compliments to the chef. After a quick peck on Gary’s cheek, she was off to do some real investigative work.

  Barbara Wilde’s street seemed even more depressing than when she had been there a few days earlier. Lawns that should have been covered in new growth were brown and muddy. Dead branches were cracked and hung from the trees with no new buds popping out. Clouds appeared out of nowhere and cast shadows over the houses.

  Deena parked and went up the steps to the front door. She shivered as a deja-vu moment came over her. The door was open this time, though, so she peered through the screen to see Katy sitting on the floor cross-legged surrounded by photo albums. Deena called her name, and the girl jumped.

  “Oh, it’s you.” She got up and walked over to unlatch the screen door. “Come on in.”

  The rocking chair where Deena had found Mrs. Wilde was noticeably gone.

  Katy seemed to read her thoughts. “I had the police get rid of it.”

  Deena nodded and took a seat on the floral sofa as Katy plopped back down on the floor.

  Deena felt a sneeze coming on. “Ah-ah-choo!”

  “Bless you.”

  “Does a cat live here?” she asked, digging in her purse for a tissue.

  “No, but sometimes Mrs. Canfield’s cat comes in through the open window.”

  “I see.” She wiped her nose. “What are you working on?”

  “I’m supposed to be boxing up Gran’s stuff to be thrown out or given to charity. I just can’t seem to make myself do it.” She ran her hand lightly across the books surround
ing her. “So many memories.”

  A lump knotted in Deena’s throat. She remembered when she lost her own grandparents. “It’s only been a few days. Maybe you should wait a while to tackle it.”

  “I wish I could. It’s just that my brother is pressuring me to sell the place. He’d have it sold tomorrow if I let him.”

  Deena remembered what Dan had said about the police not being able to find Katy’s brother. “Does he live in town?”

  “No, he lives outside of Houston. The only thing he seems to care about is the money. He’s always got money problems.” She pulled up a cardboard box and began stacking the albums inside.

  Deena saw her opening to bring up Fisk. “I don’t want to sound rude or anything, but this house—in this neighborhood—I doubt you could make much money selling it.”

  Katy shook her head. “That’s what I thought. But Gran told me someone had offered her a lot for it not that long ago.”

  “Did she say who the buyer was or what would happen to the house?”

  “It was through a realtor. Apparently, it was a businessman who had already bought some of the other houses in the area.”

  Deena’s pulse quickened. “Why didn’t she take the offer?”

  “My grandmother was born in this house. She got married here. She wanted me to raise my children here. She’d never sell it.” Katy walked up to an oak hutch and opened the doors. A mishmash of old dishes stared back at her. She put her hands on her hips and sighed.

  Old dishes were right up Deena’s alley. She would keep her eye out for anything collectible and let Katy know its value. She picked up a couple of boxes and walked over to help. “Do you have any newspaper?”

  Katy pointed to the kitchen table.

  Deena took the lead and started wrapping plates in paper and putting them in the boxes.

  Picking up a chipped cup, Katy studied it for a moment and then wrapped it up.

  They worked without talking for several minutes before Deena broke the silence. “Have you come up with any ideas about who may have killed her?”

  The question hung in the air for a long moment. “Just one. And I can’t believe I’m even thinking about it.”

  “Who is it?”

  “My...boyfriend.” Just as she said it, a teacup fell from her hands and smashed at their feet. “Oh dear!”

  “Don’t move,” Deena said, looking down at Katy’s bare feet. “Where’s a broom?”

  “In the kitchen.”

  Deena found a closet and got the broom and dustpan. She swept up an area next to Katy so she could step away and get her shoes. A small shard of glass had stuck in her ankle and was bleeding. “You go take care of your foot, and I’ll take care of this,” Deena said.

  As she swept, a creaking noise drew Deena’s attention back toward the kitchen. She walked in to see a man coming down the narrow wooden staircase. Maybe this was the boyfriend.

  “Who are you?” he asked, stopping before getting to the bottom step. Luckily, he was wearing tennis shoes along with his jeans.

  “Be careful, there’s glass.” She emptied the dustpan in the trashcan. “I’m Deena. And you are...”

  “Where’s my sister?”

  So, this was the brother.

  “I’m here,” Katy said, coming from around the corner. “Deena Sharpe, this is my rude brother, Travis.”

  “Whatever,” he said, leaning against the handrail. “What’s going on down here?”

  “She’s helping me pack.” Katy folded her arms as if daring him to say something back.

  “I have to finish getting dressed. Hope there’s something to eat here.” He turned and clomped back up the stairs.

  “Sorry. I can’t seem to get away from inconsiderate men. Except for Ned.” As soon as she said the name, she caught her breath and the color drained from her face.

  Deena picked up on the situation immediately. “Is Ned married?”

  Katy shook her head.

  Deena motioned toward the table. “Let’s sit down and have a glass of iced tea.”

  Katy followed her. “There’s a pitcher in the refrigerator.”

  “As there should be in every southern home.” She pulled out the pitcher. “Is it sweet or unsweet?”

  “It’s sweet.”

  “Just the way I like it.” Turning her back, Deena opened a cabinet looking for glasses. She used that moment to pull out her cell phone and send a quick text message to Dan. “Brother here.”

  She filled the glasses with ice and carried them to the table. “So where do you want to start? With the possible killer or with the boyfriend?”

  Katy took a gulp of tea and looked sheepishly over the top of her glass.

  Deena set her glass down and crossed her legs. “Tell me.”

  “I don’t know why I’m telling you anything. I just met you. But I have no one else to talk to, and you said you wanted to help.”

  “I do. I’ll be honest. I’m a journalist, and I’m working on this as a story. But I found your grandmother dead—in this house—in my own town. I want to find the killer as much as you do.”

  “But my secrets...”

  “Everyone has secrets. I’m not going to reveal anything that isn’t important to the case. I’m not a cop.”

  Tears dripped from Katy’s eyes as she stared into Deena’s. She must have found trust there because she began to open up. “I went to that psychic. Sister Natasha. I told her how my grandmother was Catholic and wouldn’t approve of me marrying a divorced man. She looked at the cards and said that he may have killed Gran to be able to marry me.”

  Deena was confused. “So is he married or divorced?”

  “He’s still married. He’s waiting to get divorced until I agree to marry him.”

  Deena tilted her head sympathetically and started to speak, but Katy interrupted.

  “I know how that sounds. Like he was just playing me. But it’s not like that. He loves me.”

  Wanting to lecture her on the evils of dating married men, Deena decided to bite her tongue. “And Sister Natasha said he murdered your grandmother?”

  “Well, not exactly. She said it was a man and implied that it could be him.”

  Deena remembered what Kristy had said at the salon. “I thought all she did was tell customers their fortunes. Told them what would happen in the future.”

  Katy shrugged her shoulders. “Not with me.”

  Even after witnessing Natasha find the Coleman boy, Deena still had some doubts about her psychic powers. In this case though, she might be right. “It sounds like Ned—I mean your boyfriend, could have a motive. Do you think it’s possible he did it?”

  “That’s the thing. He’s not like that. He’s sweet and gentle. I couldn’t imagine him just showing up and strangling her with her own scarf.” She rubbed her face. “He’s an accountant. He plans everything right down to the last dot and diddle.”

  Deena stifled a laugh. She knew exactly what the girl meant. “Still, you need to tell the police your suspicions.”

  Katy’s brown eyes doubled in size. “I can’t! At least not yet.”

  “Besides not wanting the affair to be public, what are you waiting for?”

  “For him to pop the question. Maybe he’s just being sensitive, but when I mentioned that my grandmother’s passing meant we could get married, he didn’t want to talk about it. He hasn’t called me since then.”

  The writing was like neon graffiti on the old brick wall as far as Deena was concerned. Ned had used the grandmother as an excuse to string the poor child along. Now, he was going to have to invent another delay tactic. Maybe the dog ate his homework. Regardless, Deena didn’t have the heart to suggest it to Katy, at least not without more proof.

  “You don’t really believe in this psychic stuff, do you?” Deena hoped the question wasn’t too harsh.

  Katy looked mournfully around the room with its cracked ceilings and peeling paint. “I don’t know what to believe anymore or who to believe in. You know, Gran
said she thought this house was haunted. In the last few months she started hearing and finding strange things. A few weeks ago—”

  “Ding-dong! Are you there? Anybody home?” A woman’s voice coming through the front screen door sang out through the house.

  Katy craned to see around the corner. “Who could that be? I’ll be back.”

  As she opened the front door, Travis barreled down the steps and blew past Deena toward the front door. Deena stood in the doorway of the dining room with a clear view of the den. She immediately recognized the caller.

  Katy stood in front of the screen door when Travis reached around and opened it. “You must be the realtor, Charla Hicks,” he said and waved her inside.

  “I am indeedy,” she chortled as she waltzed into the room carrying a brown leather satchel.

  Deena couldn’t believe all that bleached hair fit through the doorway. She suddenly felt like Boo Radley standing unnoticed in the corner of the Finch’s house. It was the closest she’d ever come to being a fly on the wall. The feeling was more dizzying than a second margarita.

  Katy’s face revealed a mixture of confusion and annoyance. “What’s this all about?”

  Travis beamed and flashed a pearly smile. “She’s a realtor. We have an offer on the house!”

  Katy scoffed. “An offer? I didn’t even know it was for sale yet?”

  Making herself at home, Charla took off her jacket and threw her satchel on the sofa. She’d obviously been there before. “Who’d have imagined this was such a hot property? But I have a buyer and he’s ready to play. Let’s sit.” She sat down and was joined by Travis, whose bounce would rival an excited Tigger’s.

  Katy sat in an upholstered wingback across from them. Her sour expression took some of the glow from the room.

  Charla pulled a manila folder from her bag. “Now to be clear, this offer is slightly less than the buyer offered your grandmother a few months back.”