by Marja McGraw
What Are the Odds?
A Sandi Webster Mystery
by
Marja McGraw
Other Books by Marja McGraw
The Sandi Webster Mysteries
A Well-Kept Family Secret
Bubba’s Ghost
Prudy’s Back!
The Bogey Man
Old Murders Never Die
Death Comes in Threes
The Bogey Man Mysteries
Bogey Nights
Bogey’s Ace in the Hole
They Call Me Ace
Awkward Moments
WHAT ARE THE ODDS? – A Sandi Webster Mystery, Copyright 2014, by Marja McGraw. All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations used in critical articles and reviews. For information, contact Marja McGraw at [email protected].
First Edition, July, 2014
Cover by Marja McGraw
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
DEDICATION
To Sherri and Bill, long-time special friends who loaned me their home as an inspiration for What Are the Odds? Their hard work and tenacity has paid off in ways they never imagined. Ain’t life grand?
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Thank you to Dorothy Bodoin, Judy B. and Diana Perry – close friends, excellent critiquers and women whose encouragement and support seem never-ending. Good friends mean more to me than they sometimes realize.
Special thanks to Sherri and Bill, more great friends, for the loan of their house – the house that just keeps giving.
Chapter One
A woman’s wedding day is supposed to be a day she’ll remember for the rest of her life. My special day won’t be a problem. I have to admit, I’ll never forget a single moment – from walking down the aisle of the church next to Felicity (it was a double wedding) to watching Pete, Frank and Stanley try to revive the preacher to seeing the ambulance take Pastor Walker away.
The widow-maker had taken him so fast he never knew what hit him. A heart attack. At my wedding.
“What are the odds?”
I didn’t realize I’d spoken aloud until Pete’s closest friend, Rick Mason, opened his mouth and closed it again without saying a word. He considered me a body magnet because everywhere I go it seems like a dead body turns up.
Pete and I started our new life as husband and wife with him trying to revive someone who was probably dead before he hit the ground. Yes, it was truly a day I’d never forget.
My sigh was big enough to blow up a balloon, and for once my mother didn’t chastise me about my bad habit. I had a feeling she was holding in her own sigh.
Pete stood in front of Stanley. “I’m telling you, he said ‘I now pronounce you man and wife.’ Sandi and Felicity said, ‘I do’, you and I said, ‘I do’, and the preacher said, ‘I now pronounce you – ”
“That’s not what I heard,” Stanley insisted. “He said, ‘I now pronounce you man and w…’ He said woo, not wife. I don’t think we’re legally married.”
“We’re legally married,” Felicity said. “He signed all the papers before the ceremony, and he had us sign them, too. He was supposed to officiate at another event and he was in a hurry.”
“Woo is not wife. I think we should consult an attorney.” Stanley was insistent.
“Are you wishing we hadn’t gone through with the ceremony?” Felicity looked like she was ready to cry. Her lower lip quivered.
Stanley realized his mistake. “Oh, my little peach, of course I’m glad we were married this morning. I just want to be sure it’s legal.”
“It’s legal. Trust me, pal. And stop whining.” Pete turned to me and rolled his eyes.
I turned away from him and spoke to the small group who’d attended our wedding. “It’s been a rough morning, but we’re married. I’m sorry my regular pastor couldn’t be here. He had a family emergency. I feel bad about Pastor Walker, but there’s nothing I can do.
“For the rest of the day we’re going to celebrate our little hearts out. Got it?” I looked directly into Stanley’s eyes.
He averted his gaze. I think he might have been embarrassed because he’d made a scene.
My friend and neighbor, Dolly, moved to stand by Stanley. She patted his back and tsked at him. “I’ve been around for over eighty years, Stan, and I’ve seen a lot. This is minor. Woo is the same as saying wife.”
I smiled at Dolly and turned to my itty bitty mother. She nodded, taking hold of my step-father’s hand. Frank put his arm around her.
Rick stood and held his hand out to first Pete, and then Stanley. “Congratulations! I think Sandi’s right. We need to move on and celebrate. Heart attacks happen, and the minister wasn’t someone any of us knew. There was nothing anyone could do to save him. We tried, but it was too late.”
Again, my mother nodded.
Rick turned to her. “Livvie, Jessica and I will do whatever you need help with today.” He’d brought his long-time girlfriend to the wedding. They were good people, both together and individually.
Mom nodded.
I squatted down in front of her. “Mother? What’s wrong?”
Pete stood next to me. “Yeah, Livvie. It’s not like you to be so quiet.”
Tears started to slowly make their way down her cheeks. “First your pastor dies, although at least he finished the ceremony – God rest his soul – and just to make things worse, none of you get to take a honeymoon. And it’s all my fault.” She dabbed at her nose with a tissue.
“You certainly didn’t have anything to do with the minister’s heart attack, and we’ll get to take a honeymoon,” I said, “just not now. We said we’d help you after the wedding and we will. It’s not a big deal, Mom.”
She cried harder. My little pixie of a mother is under five feet tall and she keeps us all on our toes. She’s menopausal and when she forgets to take her hormone pills, she’s out of control. Her emotions are all over the charts. I hoped she hadn’t missed them today.
“Mother, did you…”
“I took my pills, Sandra. Now let me feel guilty in peace.”
Uh oh. The dreaded use of my proper name.
Pete took hold of my hand and pulled me away. “I never got to kiss the bride.” He pulled me to him and gave me a wedding kiss I’d never forget.
When we separated, Stanley turned and kissed Felicity. His face turned a bright shade of crimson when we applauded.
I watched my mother and found our antics had pacified her feelings of guilt. She couldn’t watch our happiness without feeling some of her own.
The church secretary walked in, shaking her head. She hadn’t met Pastor Walker until the morning of our wedding, but she somehow seemed to feel like she’d let everyone down. His death had happened on her watch. She waited while we gathered our belongings and locked the door behind us when we left, never saying a word.
I held back and watched people head for their cars. Besides Pete and me inviting my parents and Rick, Felicity had invited a photographer and a couple of other models to the wedding. Pete’s parents had been waylaid by the flu and couldn’t make it from New York to California. I had yet to meet them and had looked forward to that event. Of course, my neighbor Dolly was there along with her granddaughter and great-granddaughter.
Felicity is a model, although she’s not a runway model. You might see her hands or her face in magazine ads. She’s too small for a runway job. Her long, almost black, hair hung down her back for the wedding. She has
deep dimples that set off a beautiful face. She reminds me of a little China doll. And she makes my mother look almost tall. I feel like a giant next to her, and I’m only about five foot three.
On the other hand, Stanley Hawks is very proper and a little nerdy. When we met him, his job had been as a writer for greeting cards. He’s around forty, but he never would share his actual age with us, and he’s gone through some major changes since meeting Felicity. He changed his appearance and tried to be more down to earth. Sometimes it works for him. He was one of our first clients and now works with us at the agency.
You might ask: What agency? My name is Sandi Webster and I’m a private eye. Pete Goldberg is my partner, and now he’s my husband. By the way, don’t let the name fool you. Pete is one hundred percent Italian. Long story. Oops. My name is now Sandi Goldberg.
Your next question might be: Why don’t we get to go on a honeymoon?
That would be because my mother and step-father have acquired a thirty-acre ranch with what will be a gorgeous house after a lot of work, and they’re turning it into a bed and breakfast. The house has a checkered history and it’s been vacant for several years.
Pete and I, along with Felicity and Stanley, decided to forego our honeymoons in order to help fix up the tri-level house. My mother can be very persuasive, and the house needs plenty of manual labor.
The two things I’m leaving out are that there were murders committed in the house – and the neighbors think it’s haunted.
I don’t believe in ghosts.
Chapter Two
Pete and I combined households during the week before the wedding. I own my great-great-great-grandmother’s old house and we decided to live there. It’s a grand old house, even though I’ve had more regrettable situations than I care to remember under its roof. Although, how can one forget being threatened and almost murdered in one’s own home – more than once. I tell myself it comes with the territory. I’ve always wanted to be a private investigator. I got my wish and then some. On the bright side, I have a new husband thanks to my choice of professions, and things are never dull.
After the wedding we met at my house. It was a small but happy group.
Bubba greeted us at the door when we arrived and Dolly’s great-granddaughter immediately went outside to play fetch with him. Bubba is my dog, although he resembles a small bear in size. He’s half wolf and half Golden retriever, and he frequently smiles, which sometimes puts people off because they think he’s baring his teeth at them.
Felicity and I changed out of our wedding dresses, giggling like school girls while we discussed the fact that we were now both married women. Our giggles turned to a sigh when we talked about Pastor Walker’s death.
My mother and Felicity helped me put out food and a small wedding cake. Pete had already passed out drinks, and a bottle or two of champagne chilled in the refrigerator.
I finally sat down and took a deep breath.
Jessica sat next to me. “So tell me about this bed and breakfast your mother and her husband are opening. Rick said there were murders in the house? Does she think people will stay there regardless of the place’s history?”
Before I could open my mouth, my mother the drama queen, who sat on my other side spoke loudly. “Let me tell the story. It’s a tale of murder and jealousy. Or so I’ve been told. Frank and I sold our house in Bullhead City. That’s in Arizona, you know. Escrow closes in about thirty days, and I think we’ll move to the llama ranch now instead of waiting.”
The room fell into silence and all eyes were fixed on Livvie Brewster, my loves-a-good-story mother.
“This happened, oh, probably twenty years or so ago. It’s a thirty-acre ranch and it used to be a llama ranch. An elderly man and his daughter ran the place, along with one ranch hand. It’s said – ”
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you, Mom? ‘It’s said’?”
“Hush and let me tell the story. Actually, this would be better told over a campfire on a dark night.”
She laughed at her own little joke.
“A neighbor gave me the scoop, so this should be pretty accurate, although he didn’t give me any of their names. He said the ranch hand had a thing for the daughter. So did a man from a neighboring property. The men were constantly trying to outdo one another. The daughter wasn’t a young woman and she’d never been married, so she was thrilled by all the attention.
“Her father told her to be careful because it was all going to backfire on her. He said she needed to make a choice between the men and put an end to their competition. But she wouldn’t listen.”
My mother actually leaned forward as though it was Halloween night and she was stirring a pot of scary information.
“Well, the father was right. It backfired. She finally chose the neighbor, and the ranch hand went nuts. One stormy afternoon he stealthily entered the house and found the daughter in the living room, kissing the neighbor. The ranch hand had a gun in his hand and he shot the daughter where she stood, in the head. The neighbor ran out the front door. The ranch hand ran after him and killed him, too, before returning to the house. You can still see a bullet hole in the screen door.
“The father, hearing the shots, came running in with a shotgun. Before he could shoot, the ranch hand shot him. He didn’t die, and he raised the gun and killed the ranch hand.”
“What neighbor told you about this?” With four deaths, I couldn’t help but wonder if the neighbor had all the details straight. Time and memory often change things from fact to exciting fiction.
“An old man who lives down the street in a mobile home. I’m sure he’s reliable.”
One of the models sat in a chair across from us and leaned forward, studying my mother’s face. “What happened to the father?”
I could see my mother mentally rubbing her hands together. She had everyone’s interest. “He died before the police got there.” She sat back and looked very pleased with herself. “And that’s the short version of the story.”
Felicity smiled at my mother. “And a neighbor says the house is haunted by these people?”
“Only the ranch hand. Well, he told me someone said they saw the daughter once, too.”
“Interesting story,” Rick said. “Are you sure people will want to stay in a house where murders were committed?”
Frank decided it was his turn to speak. “Their curiosity will get the best of them, and they’ll want to see the house. Some of them will hope to see the ghost while they’re there. And others simply won’t care. We’re turning it into kind of a dude ranch with horses. There are plenty of places to ride and we’re at the base of a small mountain. It’s unusual because it’s flat desert surrounded by mountains, and then there’s this small mountain right in the middle of the valley. We’re going to have chickens, too.”
Rick looked at Stanley with a sparkle in his eye. “Are you sure you’re up to going all the way to Arizona and working on a haunted house?”
“You can tease me, but I’m going along. I’ll do whatever my talents allow me to do.” He seemed to realize Rick’s question was good-natured.
“Mother,” I said, “you don’t know anything about farm animals, do you?”
“I can learn.” She said this with finality, not leaving room for arguments. “Besides, Frank was raised on a farm. He knows what to do.”
“I see.” I knew there was no sense in arguing with her. Her mind was made up.
Pete seemed to think it was time to change the subject. “How about some champagne and wedding cake?”
Conversations picked up where they’d left off, and I heard a few people discussing the llama ranch, soon to be the dude ranch. I heard one of the models say she’d never stay in a place like the llama ranch, or any house with ghosts. She even demonstrated with an exaggerated little shiver.
Rick approached my mother. “Uh, Livvie, I guess you’ll be the first to find out, but Jessica and I are getting married, too. In about six months. We’d like to be one of your firs
t boarders, if the bed and breakfast will be ready by then.” He raised his eyebrows, waiting for a response.
My mother threw her arms around Jessica, who still sat next to her. “Oh, but of course you can be our first boarders. We’re planning on opening in about six months, so the timing is perfect.” She took Jessica’s hand and reached for Rick’s. “Congratulations! As I recall, you were one of Sandi’s first clients, Jessica. Isn’t that how you and Rick met?”
Jessica smiled, a bittersweet distant look in her eyes. “Yes, you have a good memory. My stepson and husband were killed and Rick was on the case. I’d hired Sandi and Pete to help me find the killer.”
Dolly stood and put her hands on her hips. “Good grief! Has everyone here been involved in a crime? Even my granddaughter was involved in a murder. Well, I mean she wasn’t involved, but it happened in her basement and she was the chief suspect for about a minute. Well, I guess she was involved, but she wasn’t the killer.” With her permed hair and glasses sliding down her nose, she looked like a typical grandmother. If you saw her, you’d never imagine she’d been involved in some of my cases.
One of the models held her hand in the air. “I’ve never been involved in a crime.”
Stanley looked from Felicity to me and back at the model. “If you’re hanging around with Felicity, give it time.”
“You’ve become very cynical,” Pete said. “I guess you have every right to feel that way though.”
“Hey! This is a celebration of two weddings,” Felicity said. “We don’t need to go over past history. Let’s have a toast.”
Rick picked up his champagne glass. “Here’s to the two most beautiful brides I’ve ever seen, and to the lucky men they’ll be sharing the rest of their lives with, God willing.”
Everyone laughed and we each took a sip of champagne.