“Lucky she didn’t know Mrs. Webster had seen some of Doris Becker’s paintings,” Nita said. “She might have gone after her too.”
Aunt Kit looked grim. “And when you started showing interest in discovering what happened, she decided to frighten you off. I’m so thankful she didn’t….”
Aunt Kit didn’t need to say more. I was thankful too. I reached over and placed my hand over hers to comfort her. “It wasn’t your fault. Anne knew from the day we had tea at the Orangery that I was inquiring into the deaths.”
Nita perked up. “One bright thing out of all this is the size of Doris Becker’s estate grew with the retrieval of the paintings, which could prove to be worth something. That should benefit Emily and Brandon Thompson.”
Nita put her cup down abruptly. “Would you believe it, there’s Monica. They sure were quick to release her from jail.”
I looked up surprised to see Monica approaching. She wore a large Nantucket style straw hat covering her hair, probably to cover her darkening roots. She looked good for someone who had been incarcerated, but her eyes showed a seriousness that hadn’t been there before.
She walked over to me. “I thought I might find you here. Can we have a word?” She motioned to a table on the other side of the room. Typical of Monica, she didn’t say anything to Nita, Aunt Kit, or Tyrone.
I followed her toward the table and took a seat. Monica lowered herself into her chair gracefully, every bit the country club lady.
“You can imagine how difficult this is for me,” she said and faltered for a second as though trying hard to find the words, “but thank you. For Damian and me. I couldn’t have lived not knowing why someone wanted him dead.” She studied her nails, now devoid of polish. “I truly cared for him you know. Following his daughter’s death, he was a broken soul—and for once someone needed me.”
She took a deep breath and paused, probably to prevent herself from crying in front of me. “Detective Spangler told me all you did to discover what happened to Damian.”
“Only because I can’t stand an unsolved mystery.”
She laughed. “Sister Madeleine also kept me informed about all the ways you were helping my business. I’ll be checking to see what kind of job you did.”
I laughed too—more a snort than a laugh. “I assure you, Nita and I surpassed your expectations.”
Monica became more serious. “I know we’ll probably never be close friends, but perhaps we can bury the hatchet?”
“I’d like that.”
With that, she stood and walked away. Abruptly she turned. “Just so you know, I never had an affair with Derrick. I wanted to, but he wasn’t interested. Not because he was so noble, you knew Derrick, but because he was involved with someone else.”
After she left, I sat staring at the wall. Sister Madeleine had been right. I’d been carrying my resentment toward Monica for far too long. Today that weight had been lifted from me.
When I joined the others again, they looked up at me, hopeful looks on their faces that I would share with them what Monica had wanted.
I shrugged. “She wanted to thank me for finding Damian’s killer.”
Nita looked outraged. “You did more than that. You saved her hide.”
“She’s aware of that. And she knows I’m aware of that. That’s enough.” I slid back into my chair and reached for my cold coffee.
“Where do we go from here?” Nita asked.
“I know what I need to do,” Aunt Kit said. “Now that I know you two are safe and not chasing killers, I need to go home.”
Aunt Kit’s sad eyes and pursed lips told me everything I needed to know.
“There never seems to be an end to our adventures, Aunt Kit. Why don’t you move back to Louiston? I need you here.”
THE END
(Book #2)
UPSTAGED BY MURDER
A Laura Bishop #3
Grace Topping
Copyright
UPSTAGED BY MURDER
A Laura Bishop Mystery
Part of the Henery Press Mystery Collection
First Edition | April 2021
Henery Press, LLC
www.henerypress.com
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever, including internet usage, without written permission from Henery Press, LLC, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
Copyright © 2021 by Grace Topping
Author photograph by Lesley McArthur
This is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Trade Paperback ISBN-13: 978-1-63511-635-9
Digital epub ISBN-13: 978-1-63511-636-6
Kindle ISBN-13: 978-1-63511-637-3
Hardcover ISBN-13: 978-1-63511-638-0
Printed in the United States of America
To the members of Sisters in Crime,
and in particular members of the Guppy Chapter,
who helped me realize my dream of publication.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
It’s rare when authors can write and publish a book on their own. I couldn’t have completed Upstaged by Murder without the assistance I received from the following people who helped me in so many ways.
Thank you, Patricia Acheson, Mark and Ruth Bergin, Connie Berry, Tony Bovill, Kait Carson, Ellen Dubin, Robin Facer, Margo and Donnie Gardner, Lynn Heverly, Joan Long, Tam Sesto, Barbara Sicola, and Sharon von Schrader.
Thank you to my agent, Dawn Dowdle of the Blue Ridge Literary Agency for her help and guidance. And to Kendel Lynn of Henery Press, whose editorial notes helped make this a better book.
And thank you especially to my family for their continuing encouragement and patience while I worked to make deadlines. I’ll start cooking again soon.
Chapter 1
Homes staged before going on the market sell in less time and for more money.
“How could you do that?”
I stared at my friend, Nita Martino, who had just announced she’d entered me in a competition to become the next home staging television star. I’d nearly spewed out my cappuccino and didn’t know whether to be annoyed or laugh.
“Before you get upset, hear me out.” Nita took a gulp of the macchiato she ordered when we met at Vocaro’s Coffee Bar before beginning our workday doing home stagings. “Cozy Living television crews are in town to film one of the competitions, leading to the finals. The winner goes onto the finals where the next home staging star will be selected. And they are interested in you.”
I laughed. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I don’t think I ever expressed an interest in having my own home staging television show.”
“You haven’t, but CLTV is here, and this opportunity came up. It’s fate. You can’t ignore a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity like this. Just think—you could be the host of your own show.” Nita rummaged through the stack of newspapers nearby. “Let’s check your horoscope.”
I laughed again. “Nita, we’ve been friends nearly our whole lives, and I’ve never known you to have an in with a television network. Not that I’m interested in being a TV star, but who did you recommend me to and how?”
“That’s what’s so great about this. It’s fortuitous. The producer is a friend of someone at Fischer College, so the production company selected Louiston to film one of the competitions. Louiston has places where the competition can be filmed cheaply. The production team rented one of the floors in Josh Sheridan’s warehouse and hired my brothers to build the sets.”
“That’s good news for Josh and your family’s construction business.” I
finished my cappuccino and started clearing off the table to leave. “But how does that involve me?”
“Stop interrupting—this is so exciting. Early this morning, I went to the warehouse to take some tools my brothers needed. Just as I was leaving, I heard someone say a competitor had to drop out because of illness. They were in a panic to get a qualified last-minute fill-in. Of course, I immediately thought of you.”
“And you just knocked on an office door and said you had the perfect candidate?”
“Not exactly. They don’t have any doors—or offices yet. The guys are still building them. I simply walked up to the man and woman talking about it and said I had the solution to their problem.”
I shook my head at her audacity, no matter how well-meaning it was. “Nita, just because I have my own home staging business doesn’t qualify me to be on a television show more less be the star of one. Besides, I’m happy here in Louiston running my own business and giving you and the others employment.”
“You may think you aren’t qualified, but they are really interested in you. I told them how you quit a high paying job in IT to start your own home staging business. How you obtained training and certification and how you staged a historic mansion. Their interest really perked up when I told them you had solved some murders, including the murder of a famous artist.”
I groaned. “Nita, that’s not something I’d want to be broadcast on nationwide television.”
“If nothing else, think how good the competition could be for your business. You couldn’t pay for that kind of publicity. You only need to commit one week to the competition, and if you win, another week to the finals. Then, of course, if you win the finals….”
Her voice trailed away, knowing that if I won, it could turn my whole life upside down, and hers, since she worked for my small business. I suspected she hadn’t thought this all the way through. I had just gotten my life settled following a career change, and I liked where I was at the moment.
“Here’s something else to consider.” Nita was getting more excited with each minute. “You get to take one assistant. I know it can’t be me since you’d need me to run things while you are gone. But you could take Tyrone. I’m sure he could work around his classes at the college. Just think how great being involved in a CLTV production could be for Tyrone’s future in stage design.”
Nita went for the jugular—my sense of guilt. Tyrone was a student at nearby Fischer College and my young assistant. If I didn’t enter the competition, would I be depriving him of a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity? “It would be great for Tyrone, but I’m not sure this is something I want.”
“That’s because you haven’t had time to think about it. When you do, you’ll see that it’s a terrific opportunity.
“Okay, I’ll think about it.”
“Can you think about it quickly? I promised I’d have you there this afternoon.”
Chapter 2
A professional home stager uses proven design principles when making recommendations.
After a short home staging consultation with some homeowners, Nita and I sped to my place so I could change clothes for the interview. Fortunately, the home we visited was in good shape, and I was able to give the owners a DIY list to prepare their home for sale.
Most of my home staging projects weren’t that easy. And neither would a TV competition. I felt comfortable with my home staging skills, but competing against other experienced home stagers would be something else entirely.
Arriving at my craftsman bungalow, we entered through the back door and found my Aunt Kit sitting at the kitchen table. Inky, my small black cat, sat in her lap.
“Well, this is a nice surprise,” Aunt Kit said, looking up. “I didn’t expect you home this time of day. Hi, Nita.”
“Hi, Aunt Kit,” Nita said.
Aunt Kit put Inky on the floor. “I cooked bacon for a BLT. There’s more if you two would like a sandwich.”
“Thanks, but we only have time for me to change and leave. We’re in a hurry.”
“What’s your rush?”
“You aren’t going to believe what Nita’s gotten me into this time.”
Aunt Kit sighed. “Anything as bizarre as when you disguised yourselves as cleaners to search for a will or hiked through a campground at night looking for possible murderers?”
“Almost as crazy. I’ll let her tell you about it.”
Shrugging out of my jacket, I dashed to my nearby bedroom to change. Why did I let Nita drag me into these things?
“I entered her in a competition to become the next Cozy Living TV home staging star,” Nita said. “It’s a great opportunity. She needs something exciting in her life.”
“I can hear you,” I shouted from my bedroom. “Can you imagine me being a TV personality?”
“Well, as a matter of fact, I can,” Aunt Kit shouted back. “You have a natural talent for home staging. Look at the places you’ve staged and how quickly they sold—especially that old mansion.”
“You tell her, Aunt Kit. She’d be perfect for it,” Nita said.
I popped my head out into the hall. “You and Nita are biased. Besides, they are probably looking for someone young and not forty-two.”
“Nonsense,” Aunt Kit said. “You look wonderful.”
I scanned my closet. What do you wear to an interview with a TV producer? Pulling out a crisp white shirt and my newest jeans, I ran back into the kitchen and held them out in front of me. “What do you think?
Nita frowned and shook her head. “Something that looks more like a TV star.”
Hurrying back to my closet, I dug around again, passing over the summer clothes that still hung there.
“Give it serious thought.” Aunt Kit’s voice echoed down the hall. “Remember, sometimes it’s the things in life we don’t do we regret.”
I quickly freshened in the bathroom, applied some makeup, and donned a green knit top with sleek tailored pants. A spritz of Dynamisante, and I was ready.
Returning to the kitchen, I paused in the doorway for effect. “What do you think?”
Nita studied me. “Perfect. Understated elegance. Now let’s hurry.”
With Aunt Kit calling good luck from the porch, we climbed into Nita’s lime green VW bug and took off.
I sank back in my seat and expelled a long drawn-out breath. “I can’t believe I’m letting you draw me into this—and with so little time to think about it.”
“But this could make you famous,” Nita said.
“Sounds great, but fame and fortune frequently come at a price.”
During the drive, the scenic beauty of the nearby Allegheny Mountains, now ablaze with gold, red, and orange trees, helped me relax, and some of the tension drained from my body.
“I’m sorry, Laura, for dragging you into this. It sounded so good I couldn’t help myself. I hope you aren’t angry.”
“Of course not. You were looking out for me. Like you always have.” I smiled fondly at my friend. She and her family had taken me under their wing when we were young and given me the love and affection I’d received little of at home. I didn’t want to disappoint her.
“I’ll talk to the producers and see where it goes from there. Don’t be upset if they aren’t interested in me.”
“They’ll be lucky to get you.” Spoken like a true friend.
“Okay, but if I get involved, it will only be for the publicity and to help Tyrone.”
“You aren’t nervous about meeting with the producers, are you?” Nita asked.
“Meeting with them doesn’t worry me. Having the outcome turn my life upside down does.”
Chapter 3
The National Association of Realtors suggests that home staging can increase a sales price by up to fifteen percent.
We pulled up in front of the warehouses Josh Sheridan had purchased for his busines
s, Antiques and Other Things. The buildings were huge and had been used to manufacture shirts and sweaters before the owners moved their operations overseas. I rented space from Josh to store the growing inventory of home furnishings we used to stage empty homes.
Nita led the way, barely able to suppress her excitement. “Let’s go in through Josh’s shop instead of around back through the loading dock. It’s still filled with construction materials. This project is so big and has such a short deadline, my brothers have the whole crew working on the set.”
Nita pushed open the door. The old-fashioned bell atop the door jangled announcing our arrival, and we entered the dimly lit interior. Josh stood behind one of his many glass display cases. With his tall and very thin build, he towered over us, even with my taller frame. He absolutely dwarfed Nita’s petite stature.
“Hey, there, ladies. Nice to see y’all.” Josh’s Georgia accent never failed to surprise new customers. He was a jovial fellow, and I always enjoyed my visits to his store, where we frequently had long conversations about books and his favorite topic, old movies.
Nita rushed toward the old freight elevator at the back of the store as though someone were chasing her. “Hi, Josh. Can’t stay to chat. We’ve got important business with some TV producers.”
I suppressed a laugh at Josh’s surprised look and shook my head. “Sorry, Josh. We’ll stop on our way out. Nita’s on a mission.”
“Please do, Laura. I need to talk to ya.”
I turned back and looked at Josh. He was one of the most upbeat people I knew, so his grim expression surprised me. He also wasn’t dressed in one of the outlandish outfits he wore to match the character in a book he was reading or an old movie he’d recently viewed. It concerned me. But right now, I could only focus on one thing at a time.
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