Laura Bishop Cozy Mystery Boxed Set: Books 1-3

by Grace Topping

  “Music Man,” Nita said.

  Oh, good. No murders in it. “That’ll be a fun production.”

  I studied Nita’s solemn face. She needed some fun. Both of her college-aged kids had taken summer jobs at the shore, and Nita missed them. Now with the shock of the murder at Warren’s place, she’d need more things to keep her occupied. Working with me and taking the online home staging classes weren’t enough of a distraction for someone as energetic as Nita. Her husband Guido would probably appreciate having her involved with more things that could channel her excess energy.

  “Why don’t you try out for a part? I don’t have any acting or singing talent, but you’d be a natural. I could see you playing Marian, madam librarian.”

  Nita took a bite of croissant, chocolate oozing from the ends, and shrugged. “I don’t know. They’d probably want someone tall and thin, and that’s not me.”

  “There’s always the role of the mayor’s wife.”

  Nita laughed. “Much more my speed.”

  When we finished eating, we left Vocaro’s, retrieved the promotional items from my car, and headed to the town square for the second day of the fair. Tyrone and Mrs. Webster were already there, Mrs. Webster looking like a thundercloud. Her eyes were narrowed and she had a frown plastered on her face.

  When we greeted them, the response we received was less than enthusiastic. I looked at Tyrone and arched an eyebrow as if to say, “What’s up?”

  Tyrone nodded and took the box from me and began spreading the pamphlets and other items on the table. “Don’t mind Gran. She got another one of those telephone calls this morning.”

  “What calls?” Who could be calling that would make her look like she could spit fire?

  Mrs. Webster looked up from the needlework in her lap. “Those dang calls from people identifying themselves as representatives from the IRS, social security, or from collection companies. Calls preying on the elderly, saying that if I don’t respond they could come after me.”

  “You know those calls are fake, right?” I worried that she might be taken advantage of like so many other people had been. “Don’t even answer them.”

  “Don’t you worry about me. I know the sweet voices of the callers disguise corrupt souls. I get riled thinking about the people they’ve fooled. When I can control my anger, I play along and ask them questions—like whom are they calling. Most times they don’t even have a name—so how can they be calling me?”

  “I told Gran to record the number and report them to the organization they are supposed to be from. One time she told a caller that she’d sold her soul to the devil doing what she was doing.”

  “Dang right she had. I’m not letting some crook scare me into doing something stupid.”

  I should have known better than to be worried about Mrs. Webster. I could see her wringing a confession from the caller and making him promise to go into a more legitimate line of work. People foolish enough to try something illegal with her deserved what happened to them.

  I looked around the town square at the colorful umbrellas and tables that were beginning to draw a crowd. A good number of small businesses in town had taken advantage of the opportunity to promote their businesses, and people were starting to spread out and head to our end of the square. Soon we were handing out pamphlets and answering questions about Staging for You. Staging a home for sale was a new concept for many people, and we found ourselves explaining how our services could help people prepare their homes for sale. We were able to describe how staging had resulted in quicker sales and better offers for those homes. Not everyone who stopped to talk to us was ready to sell their homes, but I hoped they would tuck a pamphlet away for the future or give it to someone who might be.

  The people milling about our table—the candy we were giving away attracting many—prevented us from discussing the murder yesterday, which was just as well.

  Nita was deep in conversation with a woman nearby. Her usually bubbly personality made her perfect for sales and promotion. Even with her more subdued demeanor today, she would be excellent at promoting our business. However, as she walked back toward the table, I wondered what had caused the sudden frown on her face.

  “How’s it going?” I added another stack of pamphlets to the table.

  “Great until the conversation I just had. I talked to that woman last week about possibly doing a staging consultation with her. At the time she wasn’t certain when she and her husband were going to put their home up for sale. They’ve finally picked a time frame, but she said she was having someone else work with them on the staging.”

  “Someone else?” I couldn’t hide my surprise. “I don’t know of another staging group in town—unless her real estate agent is giving her advice. That’s always a possibility.”

  “No, she definitely said a home stager.” Nita sat down heavily in her chair.

  “I haven’t seen anyone advertising about home staging. Did you ask her who it was?”

  “No. I could tell she was uncomfortable, since the last time I talked to her she’d seemed interested in working with us. I didn’t think it would do any good pushing her on it.”

  “Disappointing, but it doesn’t matter. This is a big enough community for more than one staging business.” I laughed. “Now whether they can do as good a job as we can is another matter.”

  Tyrone who had been standing nearby leaned closer. “Glad you brought that up. I meant to tell you what I heard at Vocaro’s.” Tyrone, working as a barista, picked up a lot of gossip at the coffee shop. “Monica Heller is jumping into the staging business with both feet.”

  My stomach clenched. Anyone but her. Monica, a local interior decorator, had made my life in school miserable with all her taunting. She’d been the thorn in my side that had festered and oozed all through our school years. If that wasn’t enough, I strongly suspected she’d been involved with my late husband, Derrick. But then, he had been such a womanizer there probably weren’t many women in town he hadn’t been involved with—except Nita, of course.

  Why would Monica be moving into home staging? She had a successful interior design business, helping homeowners put personality into their homes. Home stagers take a lot of the personality out so prospective homebuyers can see themselves living there. Maybe the rumor was wrong.

  Could anything more go wrong this weekend? A dead body, having to deal with Detective Spangler again, Aunt Kit arriving, a canceled truck, a bad review, and now possible competition from Monica.

  “Hey, Laura.”

  I turned to see two tall and very lean men behind me. I immediately recognized Geoff Clarke and Ron Zigler, the men who’d bought the Denton’s nineteenth-century mansion Tyrone and I had staged in the spring. They had turned it into a fabulous bed and breakfast. It was early days for the venture, but the B&B was fast developing a reputation as the place in town to stay.

  “Well, hello.” I was pleased to see them again, especially since they had liked the work Tyrone and I had done on the mansion and hadn’t changed too much—yet. I quickly introduced Geoff and Ron to everyone.

  Geoff, who frequently served as the spokesman for the duo, pulled off his baseball cap and shook hands with everyone. I saw Mrs. Webster nod in approval. Geoff’s good manners had just earned him high points with her.

  “Meeting the small businessmen and women in town?” Mrs. Webster asked.

  “We have some work we’d like to do at the B&B, including eventually finishing the basement. We thought meeting some of the business owners would give us a head start with that.”

  Nita went into promotion mode and pointed to the square. “You’ve come to the right place. If you don’t find the people you need to talk to here, let me know. My family is in construction, and they know all the tradesmen in town.”

  “Thanks, we’ll keep that in mind. Next, we’ll be looking for some furnishings. Any places you
can recommend, Laura?”

  “Start with Josh Sheridan at Antiques and Other Things. He has more other things than antiques, but you never know what you might stumble on there. I’m going there this week to talk to Josh about renting some storage space. If you’d like to meet me there, I’d be happy to show you around.”

  Geoff and Ron liked that idea and we agreed on a time to meet. “Thanks. Sounds like a plan,” Ron said.

  Seeing Geoff and Ron reminded me of Will Parker. “Have you met Will Parker yet? He’s the man you’ll see along Battlement Drive near your place. He voluntarily maintains that road, picking up trash that accumulates along the roadside. Be sure to make friends with him. He’ll keep an eye on things for you.”

  “First person we met,” Ron said. “He told us about some of the adventures you all had there this spring.”

  “Will is a real character, but a good guy.” I quickly gave them the names of some other antique stores in the area, not wanting to discuss our experiences at the Denton house, where the homeowner had been murdered. “How’s the B&B business?”

  “Great so far—although something strange just happened. We had a guest check in and spend the night. The next day he went out, and we haven’t seen him since.”

  “Did you get a deadbeat who skipped out without paying?” Mrs. Webster asked.

  Ron took a seat next to Mrs. Webster. “He’d paid for several nights, so we didn’t suspect he skipped out. He said he was in town to settle his aunt’s estate and planned to stay with us only until he could find out if her house was in reasonable condition for him to stay there. We thought perhaps he’d decided to stay at his aunt’s place and would be back later for his luggage. Now we’re not so sure.”

  A shiver ran down my body. A missing guest. A man found dead in the funeral home. This didn’t sound good. I looked at Geoff’s and Ron’s open, unsuspecting faces.

  “Guys, I think you need to contact the Louiston police.”

  Chapter 7

  Key rooms to stage include entryways, living rooms, kitchens, and master bedrooms.

  The next morning, Ernie Phillips parked his truck in my driveway ready for us to load the furniture stored in my garage. The truck was hard to miss. On the side of it Ernie had painted Window Wizard in bright neon green, using a wide paintbrush. Not the most professional job, but no one would miss it.

  I had a list of items we would be taking to the staging site and started to check off the carefully wrapped items as Tyrone, Ernie, and Will Parker loaded them. My current inventory wasn’t large enough to fill a house, but between what we had stored in my garage and at Nita’s place, we had enough to make a house look cozy and attractive. Getting a large storage area would enable us to expand our inventory.

  The owners of the home we were staging thought my idea of having the windows cleaned was a good one, so I hired Ernie for his window cleaning capability, the use of his truck, and his loading skills. We would have to make more than one trip, but it would work out.

  When Nita arrived, I knew something was up. Her sparkling eyes and wide grin usually meant she had news to share. “I saw Neil. Guess what I learned?”

  Poor Neil. Even as a grown policeman, he could never stand up to his older cousin, Nita, especially when she was seeking information. He frequently ended up spilling police news he shouldn’t be sharing.

  “What were you able to wheedle out of him this time?” I asked.

  “They found Ian Becker’s phone at the funeral home—under a chair. Maybe it flew out of his hands when he was struck down. His phone records showed he’d made calls to his aunt’s attorney, Warren Hendricks, Anne Williamson—one of his aunt’s friends from the arts group—and Emily Thompson. He dated her during his last summer here.”

  “Interesting.”

  “So what are we going to do about it?” Nita asked with sudden interest. “If the police arrest Warren for the murder, we need to help him.”

  “What do you mean what are we going to do? Nothing. We aren’t getting involved in this. We didn’t even know Ian Becker. And I don’t think the police are seriously linking Warren to the murder.”

  “But it’s all so intriguing.”

  “As intriguing as it sounds, we have a house to stage today. Let Detective Spangler handle it.”

  We made quick work of the staging. Ernie, standing on a ladder to the upper floor, yelled down, “Laura, I hate to say it, but I think these are the dirtiest windows I’ve ever cleaned. I don’t know how the homeowners could distinguish morning from night.”

  “Do your wizardry, Ernie, and make them sparkle. We need to brighten the inside of this house, which is really dark. Clean windows will help, especially as dirty as these are.”

  We opened all the shades and blinds, and removed window dressings that overpowered some of the windows. It did a lot to brighten the rooms.

  “Where do you want these, Laura?” Will Parker stood in the doorway holding rolls of area rugs. It was good seeing him well recovered from a hit-and-run accident that had almost killed him months ago. I directed him where to put them. After everything was in the appropriate rooms, we arranged the furnishings and added some artwork, making sure not to make holes in the freshly painted walls.

  This was a much simpler job than some since our contract with the homeowners had us bringing in minimal furnishings. After setting up some furniture in the living room and kitchen, Nita and I made up the bed in the master bedroom, added a bedside table and lamp, and some accessories. Fresh white towels in the bathrooms gave them a spa look. A few accessories completed the job.

  I stood back and looked at the results—simple but elegant.

  Now that the feverish pitch of activity to get the staging work done was over, I thought more about the phone calls on Ian Becker’s phone. Who was Emily Thompson?

  Asking around out of curiosity wasn’t the same thing as getting involved, right?

  Chapter 8

  Turn a small condo balcony into a charming area by adding a small café table and chairs.

  The following day, I arrived at Antiques and Other Things to find Geoff and Ron waiting outside for me. It was a beautiful but unusually cool morning—one requiring a light jacket. But the cool day didn’t prevent Geoff and Ron from enjoying the small seating area outside the main entrance. Josh Sheridan, the owner, had put out small café tables and chairs, surrounded by planters and hanging baskets filled with blue and yellow petunias. Ron entertained himself by throwing small pieces of donuts from a Hibbard’s Bakery bag to three tiny birds that pecked at the crumbs.

  Both men gave me a warm hug in greeting. “Before we go in,” I said, “let me tell you a little something about Josh. He loves old movies and frequently dresses as a character from a film he watched. If you can guess who he’s dressed like or what movie it’s from, you’ll have a friend for life.”

  The old-fashioned bell over the door jangled as we entered, alerting Josh he had a potential customer. Today he sported a long Madras print shirt hanging outside his trousers and khakis.

  “Hey, Josh. I’ve brought in some new Louiston residents. This is Geoff Clarke and Ron Zigler. They own the new B&B in town.”

  After the introductions were over, I pondered what movie character Josh was dressed like. He enjoyed this aspect of my visits so much I didn’t want to disappoint him. The Madras shirt was reminiscent of the fifties or sixties, so I made a wild guess. “The main character from State Fair?”

  “Wrong.” It didn’t help much that he only gave me one guess.

  Ron stood back, studied Josh, and rubbed his chin as though deep in thought. “I’m going to guess American Graffiti.”

  Josh gaped at him in astonishment. “Right!” Just that fast they became movie-loving kindred, and Geoff found himself a friend forever.

  “Josh, I’m going to show Geoff and Ron around, but after that, I need to talk to you.” />
  “Y’all go on ahead. I’ll be here when you’re ready.” Josh’s Georgia origins were still recognizable in his accent. “Give a holler if you need me.”

  After giving Geoff and Ron a quick tour, I left them to browse, and I returned to the front entrance where I found Josh stacking wooden crates.

  “Take a look at these, Laura. I refinished them. They were crates used to ship matches and gun cartridges. They sure look pretty, don’t they?

  “Oh, they are nice.” I took a closer look.

  “I was able to preserve the labels on the sides.” Josh stacked up two more of the crates. “There’s lots of demand for them, and they nearly fly out the door as soon as I put them on display.”

  I liked the look of them and could think of a dozen ways I could use them, but I didn’t want to look too interested until we could negotiate a price. After a few minutes, Josh and I came to a price we were both happy with.

  Josh dumped some matchbooks and small matchboxes into a large bowl he placed on the counter. “Someone spent years collecting these, but most of them don’t have much value.” He reached into the bowl and pulled out two. “Here, take a couple. You never know when you might need a match.”

  “Thanks, Josh.” I slipped the matches into my jacket pocket.” They’ll come in handy. I keep candles in case the power goes out, but I can rarely find a match to light them with.”

  “Now you’ll be prepared.”

  Time to get down to business. “Josh, a while ago we talked about me renting some storage space. Now that I’ve accumulated a fair amount of furnishings we use when staging empty houses and plan to obtain more, I’m running out of space at my house and at Nita’s place. Since you’ve taken over those two new mill buildings, do you think you could find space for us to rent?”

  “I just might be able to. Let me check the buildings and see what kind of space I can find for you. You’ll need an area you can secure and get things in and out easily. How about I look around and call you this week?”