Murder Blog Mysteries Boxed Collection

by Pamela Frost Dennis

  THURSDAY • FEBRUARY 12

  Posted by Katy McKenna

  This has turned out to be really bad timing for a trip. I’d like to cancel it but I’d never get a refund on the plane ticket, and my dear granny talked me into flying first class.

  “Sweetie,” she said, “you’re a millionaire now. No, make that a multimillionaire, so you might as well start living the life. Besides, I know how much you hate flying.”

  “But I don’t have the money yet, so who knows when I’ll be able to pay you back. This is going to be a long process, Ruby. Could take a couple of years. So as of now, I’m still broke, and my cards are pretty much maxed out.”

  “But you will have the money. And sweetie, when you fly first class they keep you so busy with champagne, warm nuts, delicious meals, and ice cream sundaes that you don’t have time to worry about,” she shot me a devilish grin, “being trapped in a 450-ton tin can 35,000 feet above the ground.”

  Samantha came over this afternoon to lend me her swimsuit cover-up. Erin arrived just as we were sitting down on the porch to enjoy a cup of coffee.

  The previous times I’ve seen my cousin, she was elegantly put together, but today she looked like a forlorn little street urchin. Mussed hair, wrinkled clothes, no makeup. Eyes puffy and bloodshot. And her left cheek and lips were bruised and swollen. It’s a miracle she made the four hour drive without crashing.

  After a warm embrace, I got her seated on the porch swing. “Do you want coffee? Tea?”

  “No, I’m way over my caffeine limit. Maybe a water?”

  I stepped into the house, then leaned back out. “Ice?”

  “No. More like lukewarm. My front tooth hurts. It was loosened when Tyler punched me, and it’s pretty sensitive right now.”

  “Shouldn’t you see a dentist?” Sam asked, as I went into the house.

  “I’m sure it’ll be fine in a few days.”

  I returned with her water. “I feel awful about leaving you alone.”

  “Don’t you dare feel bad,” she said. “I want you to go and have fun. If I’d taken your advice and stayed with my parents, this wouldn’t have happened.”

  “You sure you’ll be all right, all by yourself here?” I said. My inner Mother Hen was clucking, How can you leave this sweet, thoughtful girl all alone?

  “Erin, give me your phone,” said Samantha. “I’ll put my number on it, in case you need anything.”

  Erin dug it out of her handbag and handed it over. “I really appreciate that, Sam. But please don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”

  “What about your job?” I asked.

  “No worries,” said Erin. “I have loads of sick leave accrued, and now I’m going to take advantage of it.” She touched her bruised cheek. “If my boss saw this, she’d go through the roof. Probably make me go for victim counseling.”

  “Erin, you are a victim,” said Sam, looking stern. “Maybe it would be a good idea.”

  “I’m fine. Really. It’s my fault for allowing Tyler to come over. I should’ve known better.”

  Sam gave me a look, and I knew she was thinking about how often battered women blame themselves. I was about to say something to that effect when Erin said, “Would you mind if I go lie down? I’m worn out.”

  Sam stood. “I have to run anyway. Chelsea is at a swim meet and needs a ride home.” She leaned into me for a squeeze. “Take lots of pictures and gain at least five pounds.”

  We always rate how good a vacation was by how many pounds we gained.

  Josh and I had planned to spend the evening together, but with Erin’s arrival, I had to cancel. I’ll only be gone for five days, but I’m going to miss him so much.

  I woke Erin at seven with a glass of wine and a plate of Triscuits and cheddar cheese. “Wake up, sleepyhead.”

  “What time is it?”

  “Seven. I need to get to bed early. My flight’s at six-thirty, so I need to be at the airport by five, which means I have to get up at three-thirty. Ugh. There’re some things I need to go over with you, and I don’t want to wake you at that ungodly hour.”

  “It’s a good thing you woke me, or I might’ve slept till ten or eleven and then been up all night.” She sipped her cabernet. “I didn’t pack much, so you better show me how to run the washer.”

  “It’s ancient, and on certain cycles sounds like it’s possessed, but it gets the job done.” I led her to the laundry room and opened the cabinet over the washer and dryer. “Here’s the soap, softener, bleach. Just spin the dial to whatever cycle works for you.”

  Erin nodded. “Simple enough.”

  “Now I need to show you how to work the alarm,” I said.

  “I have one at home, so it shouldn’t be a problem.”

  I took her to the front door, where the main panel is located. “The code is one-two-one-two”

  “Seriously? One-two-one-two is a pretty common code. Right up there with one-two-three-four.”

  I hadn’t thought of that, but she was right.

  “Do you have a lucky number?” she asked.

  “Hmmm.” I’ve never thought about this. What would my lucky number be? “How about the day I found the coins?”

  “What day was that?

  “Let me think. It’s been.... Wow. I can’t believe it’s almost been a month. Hold on. The date will be on my blog.”

  “You never told me you have a blog,” she said. “May I read it?”

  I’ve only known Erin a few weeks, even though it seems like forever. But am I ready for her to know everything about me? Like all the petty, snarky stuff? I was not.

  “Actually, it’s more like a personal diary and—”

  “No worries.” She patted my arm. “I understand. Must be very cathartic.”

  “It’s funny you said that because that’s exactly what Sam said to me back when I was still seething over my divorce. She said a blog would be cathartic. I thought it was a pretty stupid idea at the time, but now it’s a part of my daily life.”

  “Does it help?”

  “It does.”

  “Then maybe I’ll give it a try. I brought my laptop, so it’ll give me something to do. While you get the date, I’ll refill our glasses.”

  A few minutes later, I reset the alarm to 0114.

  “Much better,” said Erin, with a nod. “No way would anyone ever think of that code. What time did you say you’re getting up in the morning?”

  “Three-thirty. That’ll give me plenty of time to put on makeup and have some coffee. I don’t like rushing.”

  “You’re going to have so much fun. I really appreciate you letting me stay here.”

  “And I really appreciate you inviting me to stay at your place in Belize.”

  We sat on the sofa, and Erin pulled the red throw over her lap.

  “After I finish this glass of wine, I’m off to bed,” I said.

  “As much as I love you, I won’t be up to wish you a bon voyage.” Erin leaned in for an embrace. “You have all the information I gave you?”

  “It’s on a piece of paper in my purse, and on my phone and my laptop. When I land in Belize, I’ll call the house like you said, and someone will come get me.”

  “It’ll probably be Sophia. She’s a sweetheart. But watch out for her husband, Raul. He’s a huge flirt—but totally harmless. They fight a lot over that, so just ignore them. Sophia is very jealous. Trust me, you don’t want to get on her bad side.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  COINS AND CADAVERS

  THURSDAY • FEBRUARY 19

  Posted by Katy McKenna

  So much has happened since I last posted. It’s going to take a while to catch up, and I’m not sure I’m up to the task, or ready to even try. Please bear with me if I lose it.

  Friday, February 13

  Part One

  I woke at 3:11 in the morning, nineteen minutes before my alarm was set to go off. I considered catching a few more winks but was too excited-nervous about my trip.

  After a
strong dose of caffeine, I showered, did my makeup, and dressed in comfortable travel wear. Black leggings, a long loose, sleeveless red top, black cardigan, and sandals. I left the house at 4:40. The local airport is small, so I’d be on a commuter flight to L.A.X., where I had an hour-and-a-half layover before flying first class to my final destination.

  After parking, I spent twenty-plus nerve-wracking minutes in the pitch-dark figuring out how to pay for extended parking at the kiosk. Finally, at 5:18, I dragged my suitcase and carry-on up the hill into the airport. I checked in and breezed through the short airport security line with no hassles. After strapping my sandals back on, I situated myself where I could watch other folks coming through security. A few minutes into my blatant people-watching, a middle-aged, amply-endowed woman crowned with a flaming red bouffant, stepped through the scanner and set off the alarms.

  “Oh my gawd,” she hollered in a southern accent so exaggerated, she sounded like Forest Gump on estrogen.

  “Please step over there, ma’am.” A female TSA officer ushered her to the side for a pat-down.

  “It’s my braaa-ssiere,” shrieked the woman. “This always happens.”

  “I still have to check you, ma’am.” The officer ran the scanning wand around the woman’s body. As she swept it down the lady’s back, the thing went berserk.

  “I’m tellin’ you, it’s my braaa-ssiere.” The redhead gestured to a short, skinny man waiting on the sideline. “Tell her, Carl. It’s my brassiere!”

  The bashful looking little man nodded, looking resigned to his fate.

  Two minutes before the scheduled boarding time, an announcement came over the intercom: “Attention. Flight 724 has been delayed due to dense fog.”

  What fog? I turned in my seat to glance out the window. Where did that come from?

  By 6:35, panic set in. It’s an hour flight to LA. My flight to Belize is at 9:15, so if we leave within the next half hour, I’ll still have plenty of time.

  The flight was officially canceled at 7:10.

  I spoke to the airline counter clerk about my options, and he said, “I can get you out on a flight to Los Angeles this afternoon, and then....” His fingers tapped the computer at warp speed. “Hmmm... Let’s see. There’s a flight to Belize at midnight. Do you want me to book it or do you want a voucher for travel at a later date?”

  “Go ahead and book it.” I didn’t want a voucher; I wanted my money—I mean Ruby’s money, back.

  I decided to treat myself to a big breakfast at the airport restaurant before going home. I was on my second cup of caffeine when the waitress set my veggie omelet, crispy hash browns, and rye toast in front of me.

  Halfway through the meal, I texted Sam and my folks. Guess what? Flute cackled due to flog. Going home for a nip and leavening later this afternoon. I hit Send and then read my message. Boy, I hate autocorrect.

  I unlocked the front door and dumped my purse on the entry table. I was feeling a fat headache coming on, so I went to the kitchen and swallowed two acetaminophens. And then I heard Erin giggling.

  I strolled through the house toward the guest bedroom. At her door, I was about to say, “knock-knock,” when I heard her laugh again from my bedroom. I thought that was kind of weird. Then I heard a male voice and assumed she was watching TV.

  “Erin?” I said, with my hand on the knob. “You’ll never guess what happened.”

  The stunned expression on Erin’s flushed face mutated into ugly hostility as she peered at me over a man’s broad tattooed shoulder. “What the fuck’er you doing here?”

  The two were naked, wrapped in each other’s arms. From the tangled mess of sheets and blankets, it must have been a fast and furious romp. Tyler, her Zack Efron doppelgänger boyfriend, turned to gaze at me.

  I was so dumbfounded, all I could say was, “My flight was canceled.” Yeah, dimwitted I know, but I hadn’t yet fully processed the scene before me.

  “That kinda sucks for you,” Tyler said in an amiable tone. He rolled off the bed, stood, and lazily stretched his lean, muscular body.

  Mortified, I averted my eyes. “What’s going on?”

  “What do ya think?” He smiled, slowly advancing toward me.

  I stepped back until I was flat against the wall and glanced at Erin. She looked different. How to describe it? It’s like she was still Erin but with a rough, trashy edge. She shook a cigarette from a pack on the nightstand, lit it with a gold lighter, and sucked a long drag, exhaling through her nose.

  I was fixated on the cigarette, thinking, She smokes?

  “Oh well,” said Erin. “It’s not like you would’ve had a good time in Belize, anyway.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “That house in Belize? Never existed.” She puffed the cigarette, and the smoldering tip dropped onto the bed. “Whoopsy.” She brushed the ash away, leaving a black hole in the sheet.

  “But you showed me pictures.”

  “Everything I told you was a lie. There’s no mansion in Atherton. No vacation home in Belize. No ski cabin in Tahoe. No villa on Lake Como.”

  Tyler leaned one hand against the wall beside my head. “You can still have a good time. Here. With us.” He trickled a finger down my neck, into my décolletage. I jerked away, and he snickered. “Relax. It’s all good.”

  “I want you both to get out of my house. Now.” I edged my way to the open doorway.

  “What? Like this?” Tyler held his arms outstretched, clearly proud of his generous endowment. I’m talking porn-star generous. Sorry, but it was impossible to ignore.

  “Get dressed and get the hell out.” I backed into the hallway, wondering if I should run for it. No, goddammit This is my house!

  Erin stubbed out her cigarette. “Cut it out, Tyler.” She stood and slipped on my pink robe. “Katy’s not supposed to be here, but that doesn’t change our plans. In fact, it’s actually a good thing she’s here.”

  I stopped my slow retreat. “What plans?”

  Erin tied the robe belt with a yank. “Katy? Where’s the money? It’s not in the closet, so where the fuck is it?”

  “The money’s not here. I put it in a safe deposit box at the bank, and now you both need to get out of my house, or I’ll call the police.” I dashed for the front door, but just as I was opening it, Tyler slammed it shut and jerked me away, shoving me into the wall.

  “We’ll leave when we’re good and ready to leave, bitch.”

  “Tyler, go put some clothes on while I talk to Katy,” said Erin.

  I turned to the door, placing my hand on the lever.

  She said, “You might want to rethink that. I’m pointing a gun at your back and one way or another, I’m not letting you go out that door.”

  I took a deep breath and turned to face Erin and her big, black gun. “Are you going to kill me?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Well, that would be pretty stupid. If you’re dead, you can’t tell us where you hid the money, can you? But it would be a helluva lot easier if you tell us before I’m forced to hurt you. And Katy, we both know it’s not at the bank.”

  I must have looked terrified because she smiled, allowing me a brief glimpse of the Erin that I knew—make that, thought I knew. “Look at all the trouble you’ve gone through trying to find the rightful owner. And from the looks of it,” she brandished the automatic pistol, “that would be...me.” She sighed, shaking her head with a rueful grin. “Isn’t it funny how things work out?”

  Tyler returned to the room dressed in jeans and a tight white t-shirt. “What’s funny?”

  “That Katy went on PedigreeTree.com to search for someone to give the money to, and she found me. Her long-lost cuzy.” She glanced at me. “And yes, I truly am your cousin. Probably won’t be your favorite one after this, though. But you’ll always be my favorite.”

  I flicked a glance at the alarm by the door. Maybe I can set it off.

  Erin read my thoughts. “Forget it, Katy. Even if I let you get to it, all that’ll happen is the alarm compa
ny will call and ask for the password.” She stepped close and tapped my nose with the cold gun. “Which you gave me last night, remember? The password is Daisy.” She moved back a step. “Go sit on the couch. Tyler will bring you a drink to calm your nerves, and then you’ll show us where you hid the money.”

  “Erin,” I said. “I thought you were afraid of Tyler. He hit you. You have bruises on your face.”

  She touched her cheek. “He didn’t want to hit me. I forced him to do it. The poor baby cried afterward. Everything has worked out just as I planned. You felt sorry for me and let me stay in your house.” She cocked her head. “Well, almost everything. The money was supposed to be in the closet, and you’re supposed to be on your way to Belize.” She shrugged. “Oh, well.”

  Tyler handed me a rocks glass half-full of vodka. “Drink up.”

  My hand trembled as I took it and set it on the coffee table. “Not in the mood.” Probably drugged or poisoned.

  He picked up the glass and chugged it, ending with a belch. “Your loss.”

  Erin flopped into the chair by the French doors. “Why’d you move the money, Katy?” She slung a sleek, tanned leg over the chair arm. “It’s not like there were that many people who knew about it. Your folks. Samantha. Emily. Ruby. And those coin shop people. Oh! And me.” She frowned, looking hurt. “Don’t you trust me? Wow. That hurts.”

  “It had nothing to do with you. I just didn’t want it in the house anymore.”

  “Aha. Clue number one. The money’s not in the house.”

  “I already told you that. The coin dealers have it.”

  “I thought you said it was in a safe deposit box.” She swung her feet to the floor. “You and I both know the money’s still here.” She came to me and squatted. “Where’s the money, Katy?”

  “I’m not telling you.”

  She ground the gun muzzle into my toe. “Don’t make me do this.”

  It was nearly impossible to speak, let alone string together a coherent sentence. “If you–you shoot me, the neighbors will hear it and call the police.”