Magnolia was still alive. The lake house. She had to be there. “I know about your lake house, and Dylan does too,” I lied.
“I’m done talking.” He stepped even closer, leaving just a few feet between us. “Let’s go.”
“Where? Where are you taking me? If you’re going to kill me, just do it. Why put me in your car? My DNA will be everywhere.” I moved my arm a centimeter closer to the tea kettle. “They’ll know you did it.”
“I’ll be long gone by then.” He shook his head, and the hand holding the gun angled toward the ground.
I grabbed the pot and whipped it at him, hot water flying out of the open spout. He screamed as the water hit his face and the kettle made contact with the side of his head.
Dominic Scratachelli went down, and the gun slid across the floor. I jumped and I kicked it further away, and then I pulled the first utensil I grabbed out of the drawer behind me. It wasn’t a knife, but the prongs of the metal fork were sharp enough to puncture skin, and I was strong enough to do that if I had to.
I caught my breath just long enough to gather that strength when Dominic grabbed my foot and pulled me down onto the floor with him. He cursed and yelled, and Bo barked even louder, his scratching on the door more aggressive than before.
I kicked and kicked, hoping to loosen his grip. I jabbed the fork into his arm, but he kept pulling me. My heart raced, and I screamed and kicked some more, slamming the heel of my bare foot so hard into his nose I heard the crack. He let go and went flying the short distance across the floor and crashed into the metal barstools. I pushed myself up and knocked the two closest barstools on top of him, making sure at least one hit his head.
He pushed a chair away, and I threw it back over him and held the metal pronged fork to his neck. “One more move and I swear on my meemaw’s grave you’ll regret it.”
He held his nose, blood spraying everywhere.
The door flew open and Belle screamed. “Holy Jesus is my savior.”
I shook my head to my right. “The gun. Get it.”
She picked the gun up, and I reached over and snatched it from her hand and pointed it right at Dominic’s head. It was locked and loaded, and I wasn’t afraid to shoot it. “Us backward Southern girls know how to shoot a gun, Mr. Scratachelli, and you’re an easy target. Now don’t you move. I don’t want any more of your blood on my pretty wood floor.”
Belle called 911, and both Matthew and Dylan and two other deputies rushed over. The showed up with their guns drawn.
“I’ve got him. He’s not moving,” I said.
Dylan carefully removed the gun from my shaking hands. “We got it from here, Lily Bean.”
I let go of the weapon as Matthew flipped the barstools off Dominic and secured his hands into the cuffs.
Bo barked like crazy in the bedroom. “I’ll check on him,” Belle said, and hurried to the room.
“He’s got a lake house. I think Magnolia’s there.”
“It’s too late,” Dominic said. “You’re too late.”
My body shook. “He’s lying.”
“I want my lawyer,” he said.
“Papers.” I breathed so hard, I struggled to get the words out. “At my house. There’s an address for it, Dylan. Can you—”
“We know about the house. Someone’s on their way there, now.”
One of the deputies yanked Dominic Scratachelli off the floor and shoved him out the door. Belle freed Bo, and he jumped on me and showered me with kisses. He must have felt the same way I had about him just hours before.
I grabbed Belle’s purse. “Let’s go.”
Dylan grabbed my arm. “Lily, you can’t—”
“Please. I need to see if she’s okay.”
“I’ll handle this,” Matthew said. “Go.”
He sighed. “I’ll drive.”
* * *
Several deputies from Hall County and a few of ours were already at the lake house. Dylan made me stay in the car while he talked to them, and a few minutes later, gave me the go ahead to go inside.
The paramedics were with Magnolia in the kitchen. When she saw me, she pushed them away. “I told you, I’m fine.”
She hugged me, and it felt as natural as hugging an old friend. “He wouldn’t tell me where you were, but I knew you were here.”
She held me at arm’s length. “Did he hurt you? Are you okay?”
I nodded. “I’m fine.”
She leaned against the kitchen counter. “I would have taken that good for nothing husband of mine down had he not snuck up behind me.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “I’ve got one up on you, sweetie. I almost punctured him with a barbeque fork.”
She’d sipped some water the EMT forced on her and spit it out. “Well, look at us, acting like old friends.”
I smiled. “Stranger things have happened.”
Her face softened. “Thank you, Lily. I mean it. I’m sorry you got dragged into all of this. It’s my fault, and I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”
I brushed off her sentiment, but only because I’d already ready used up my tear allotment for the night. “It’s okay, Magnolia. Now, let’s get you somewhere safe so we can both get some rest. And tomorrow I’m going to sell Carter Trammell’s property for a whole bunch of money.”
She hugged me. “And I bet I can help you find a buyer, too.”
Chapter 11
“Dominic Scratachelli is going to love his new home in prison.” Dylan loaded the last of my bags into the back of his pickup. “And it’s because of you.”
“No, not really.” I blushed. “Well, okay, maybe a little bit.” I smiled and brushed my hand over his bicep, squeezing the large muscle just a bit. “But I had a little help.”
He closed the tailgate. “You know the District Attorney swears he’s going to find out where you got that information, right?”
I grabbed his hand in mine as we walked the few steps to my car parked in front of his. I laid my Southern accent on thick. “Well, Dylan Roberts, a girl never tells her secrets, you know that. Besides, the trial is over, and it doesn’t matter now, anyway.”
He smiled, and the corner of his mouth twitched. “What am I going to do with you, Lily Bean?”
I leaned against the car and wrapped my arms around his waist. “First, you’re going to move my things back to my own house. Lord knows I love that cabin, but I cannot wait to sleep in my own bed again. Two months away while they repaired my kitchen was brutal, that’s for sure.”
He smiled, and I leaned my head onto his chest. “And then we’re going to celebrate your reelection with a nice pitcher of iced tea and a good meal.” I patted his chest. “Because you deserve it.”
“You’re cooking?”
I blanched. “Heavens, no. I’m getting take out, and I know the perfect place, too.”
I opened my car door and called for Bo. His bark echoed from the cab of Dylan’s pickup. “Will you look at that little stinker.” I pointed to Dylan’s front passenger seat. “I guess he’s going with you.”
“Then I’ll see you there.” He kissed my forehead.
“Oh, let yourself in. I’m stopping for that take out first.”
His smile faded, and a flash of worry washed over his face. “I can get it. What sounds good?”
I rolled my eyes. “Dylan, sweetie, it’s take out, I’m not going to get almost abducted getting take out. You cannot protect me from everything.”
“I can try.” He pulled me into him.
I pushed him away. “Go on now. I’ll see you in a bit, I promise.”
I followed him out of down the street. When Dylan turned left, I turned right and headed for the development. It had thrived even after all the drama. I parked outside the front portion of retail stores and straight in front of that perfect spot for a restaurant that had been for rent a few months ago. I smiled at the irony of the restaurant’s name, Magnolia’s Italian Pizzeria.
Magnolia stood behind the counter when I walked in. She
waved and scooted past one of her employees to greet me. We hugged, and she smiled and said, “Well look at you, my Women of Society sister, you look like something the cat drug in.”
I tilted my head. “And you look like you dropped a pizza on your apron.”
She laughed. “Can you believe it? That’s the third one this week. I’ll never make a dime if I keep it up.”
Magnolia and I had built a friendship from our shared traumatic situation, and throughout the trial, our bond grew. She felt she owed me, but she didn’t. I tried to convince her of that, but I realized it was useless.
She’d already paid me back in spades for whatever she thought I’d done. A few days after Dominic’s arrest, she’d appeared at my office with her new love, Harry Horwitz, and his younger sister. It was a moment I’d never forget.
“Lisa here wants to buy the Trammell townhome,” she said.
I wasn’t sure how to respond. The events with Dominic made the Atlanta news, and we’d already had several offers on the unit again. The lowest price was seven hundred and thirty thousand dollars. I explained that to the three of them.
Magnolia giggled. “Oh bless your heart. That is just pennies to Lisa now, isn’t it sweetie?” She smiled at Lisa.
“I’m prepared to pay cash, and of course, I’ll leave you a deposit until the closing.” She opened her purse and pulled out a white envelope. “My offer is seven hundred thousand, nine hundred ninety-nine dollars. Would twenty percent do? I’ll bring the rest to the closing, of course.”
Belle had been listening, and since I’d been rendered speechless, she said, “Uh, sure. We accept.”
“Don’t you want to call the seller?” Magnolia asked. She giggled and hugged me. “I told you I could help you find a buyer, but don’t you think we’re even, you hear me? You saved my life, and I can never repay you for that.”
“Magnolia, I—”
“Hush. We’ll be here in two days to close. Nine o’clock sharp. Have Carter’s people here, and bring the coffee, and tea for me, of course.” She touched my arm and winked at me. “Ta-ta, ladies. See you soon.”
Magnolia pinched my arm. “Lily, you okay?”
“I’m fine. I was just thinking about Lisa Mason and what you did for me and for Bramblett. That extra money is going to give some well-deserving kids scholarships to college. You’re amazing, Magnolia.”
“Oh, it’s nothing, really. Lisa’s richer than God, and it was the least I could do, don’t you think? She flipped around and whistled to her employee. “Get me a large Southern Specialty, will you, honey?” As her employee nodded, she turned back to me and scanned my outfit once more. “We really must work on your presentation.” She held out her hand. “Now, that’ll be one dollar for the pizza.”
“Magnolia, you don’t have to give me the pizza.”
“Sweetie, I am not giving you the pizza. I’m giving you a discount, but I might even take that back if you don’t hush yourself already.” She led the way to a table and pulled out a chair. “Now sit. It’ll be ready in a minute.”
I drove home with the pizza balancing on my passenger seat and flooding the car with a mouth-watering mixture of garlic, basil, tomatoes and sausage smells. If the drive had been longer than ten minutes, I’d have eaten a piece or two before I made it home.
I arrived to find Dylan tossing a ball for Bo. Bo took off running, grabbed the ball in his big mouth and moved aside for me to pull into my driveway. He grabbed onto the pizza smells and drooled. I held it up with one hand over my head, and Dylan took it. We sat on the porch and ate while Bo drooled some more in front of us.
Dylan wiped his mouth twice. “Come on Buddy, you’re really grossing me out here.”
“Don’t worry, he won’t drool like that at the wedding.”
Dylan pointed at the slobbering mess on the ground, and then at my dog. “He’s coming to our wedding?”
“Coming? He’s in the bridal party. I was thinking he could be the ring bearer.”
He nodded. “For a wedding you’ve yet to plan, or even set a date for.”
“About that.” I chewed a bit of the pizza, and talked with my mouth full. “How about February 15, 2020?”
Dylan had just about bitten into his pizza slice when he stopped. He shifted his body toward me, the pizza oozed sauce onto his lap. “Really? That’s in less than a year.”
“I know, but yes, really.”
“You think we can pull it off by then?”
“I think we can pull anything off as long as we’ve got each other.” I didn’t tell him I had a Pinterest page full of ideas he’d have to spend hours looking at to help with the planning part. I figured I’d save that until dessert.
He laughed. “That’s got to be the cheesiest thing I’ve ever heard you say, Lily Bean.”
“Stick around, baby. I’ve got a lot more where that came from.” I stuffed the rest of my pizza slice in my mouth, and sauce and cheese dripped onto my chin.
Dylan wiped it away and kissed my forehead. “I’m not going anywhere, Lily Bean.”
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Acknowledgments
Thank you to my wonderful editor, Jen and my favorite proofreader JC Wing, and my friends and family who’ve supported me as I’ve traveled along this writing journey.
About The Author
Carolyn Ridder Aspenson currently calls the Atlanta suburbs home, but can't rule out her other two homes, Indianapolis and somewhere in the Chicago suburbs.
She is old enough to share her empty nest with her husband, two dogs and two cats, all of which she strongly obsesses over repeatedly noted on her Facebook and Instagram accounts, and is working on forgiving her kids for growing up and leaving the nest. When she is not writing, editing, playing with her animals or contemplating forgiving her kids, she is sitting at Starbucks listening in on people's conversations and taking notes, because that stuff is great for book ideas.
On a more professional note, she is the bestselling author of the Angela Panther cozy mystery series featuring several full-length novels and novellas as well as a collection of romantic novellas.
Other Books By
Carolyn Ridder Aspenson
The Angela Panther Mystery Series
Unfinished Business
Unbreakable Bonds
Uncharted Territory
Unexpected Outcomes
Unbinding Love
The Christmas Elf
The Ghosts
Undetermined Events
The Event
The Inn at Laurel Creek Contemporary Romance Novella Series
The Inn at Laurel Creek
Zoe & Daniel’s Story
The Lily Sprayberry Realtor Cozy Mystery Series
Deal Gone Dead
Decluttered and Dead
The Scarecrow Snuff Out
Sleigh Bells & Sleuthing (A Holiday Author Novella Collection featuring Lily Sprayberry)
Signed, Sealed and Dead
Author Shared Series
Mourning Crisis
The Funeral Fakers Series
Independent Novellas
Santa’s Gift A Cumming Christmas Novella
Continue reading for Chapter One of
Unfinished Business An Angela Panther Mystery
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You can find the book listing here: Deal Gone Dead
Read on for a sneak peek into
Unfinished Business
An Angela Panther Mystery
Unfinished Business
An
Angela Panther Mystery
CHAPTER ONE
The air in the room felt frigid and sent an icy chill deep into my bones. Searching for comfort, I lay on the rented hospice bed, closed my eyes, and snuggled under Ma’s floral print quilt. I breathed in her scent, a mixture of Dove soap, Calvin Klein Eternity perfume and stale cigarettes. The stench of death lingered in the air, trying hard to take over my senses, but I refused to let it in. Death may have taken my mother, but not her smell. Not yet.
“You little thief, I know what you did now.”
I opened my eyes and searched the room, but other than my Pit Bull, Greyhound mix Gracie, and me, it was empty. Gracie sensed my ever so slight movement, and laid her head back down. I saw my breath, which wouldn’t have been a big deal except it was May, in Georgia. I closed my eyes again.
“I know you can hear me, Angela. Don’t you ignore me.”
I opened my eyes again. “Ma?”
Floating next to the bed, in the same blue nightgown she had on when she died, was my mother, or more likely, some grief induced image of her.
“Ma?" I laughed out loud. “What am I saying? It’s not you. You’re dead.’
The grief induced image spoke. “Of course I’m dead, Angela, but I told you if I could, I’d come back. And I can so, tada, here I am.”
The image floated up in the air, twirled around in a few circles and floated back down.
I closed my eyes and shook my head, trying to right my brain or maybe shake loose the crazy, but it was pointless because when I opened my eyes again, the talking image of my mother was still there.
“Oh good grief, stop it. It’s not your head messing with you, Angela. It’s me, your Ma. Now sit up and listen to me. This is important.”
As children we’re conditioned to respond to our parents when they speak to us. We forget it as teenagers, but somewhere between twenty and the birth of our first child, we start acknowledging them again, maybe even believing some of what they tell us. Apparently it was no different when you imagined their ghost speaking to you, too. Crazy maybe, but no different.
Bidding War Break-In Page 15