The Tessa Randolph Collection, Books 1-3

by Paula Lester

  Before she got to her apartment, another door opened. Mrs. Cross swayed in the doorway, without her cane. She wore a floor length housecoat and a cream-colored bandana wrapped around her hair. “Come in here, girl," she croaked, reaching out to grab Tessa's elbow and then swaying even harder.

  Tessa automatically stiffened her arm to stabilize the woman.

  Taken aback, she wondered if Mrs. Cross had been watching for Tessa through the peephole.

  Oh, yeah, that’s not creepy or anything.

  “What can I do for you?” Tessa kept her tone light, even though she was irritated about the probable spying.

  "I want to talk to you." Mrs. Cross peered through thick glasses at Tessa. Her tone, as always, was gruff. Like the schoolteacher no one ever messed with, even though she was small and fragile enough to simply push over. No one would ever dare do that. She was the type who inspired fear and respect, even though she didn’t have the physical oomph to back it up.

  “Okay," Tessa stammered. She cast one last longing look toward her own apartment before crossing the threshold into Mrs. Cross’s.

  The lady’s apartment looked like one would expect the dwelling space of a single woman in their eighties to look. It was decorated in country style, with blue and white flowered fabric for curtains and a matching pattern on the upholstery. Knick-knacks covered every available surface, and dirty teacups and plates sat precariously on top of other items, threatening to pitch off to their metaphorical deaths at any moment.

  But even more than the clutter and countrified décor, the thing that stood out about the home was its strong odor. Tessa’s nose twitched, and she longed to rub it but had a pretty good idea that Mrs. Cross would notice and call her out on it. Then what would she say? Somehow, “I’m sorry, but this place reeks,” didn’t seem advisable.

  And the scent wasn’t bad, per se. It smelled like orange and cinnamon and reminded Tessa of the mall during Christmastime. Except it was stronger. Much, much stronger. In addition to the twitchy nose, Tessa began to suffer a low-grade burning in her eyes, which watered in response.

  Great. I need to figure out how to make this quick.

  Mrs. Cross lowered herself onto a tattered brown armchair with a crooked footrest that indicated it didn't go up and down anymore.

  Tessa glanced around. The only places left for her to sit were either on a blue-flowered loveseat or a sofa, both of which were covered with heavy plastic protector sheets.

  She hesitated, then chose the sofa. When she sat, it creaked and croaked under her weight. Gingerly, she chose a position that wasn’t quite comfortable and then froze, hoping to keep the plastic quiet. It reminded her of visiting her grandmother’s house as a child. She’d never felt relaxed there either.

  Too late, Tessa realized her mistake. A simmering pot of liquid potpourri sat bubbling away on an end table inches away from her right elbow, emitting the nearly overpowering Christmas odor. Tessa’s eyes redoubled their effort to protect her from the horrendous scent by watering harder.

  "Make yourself comfortable, girl," Mrs. Cross rumbled. "You look like a giraffe trying to sit on its rear end like a dog."

  Tessa’s mind helpfully produced a mental image of that colorful description for her, and she laughed. "No, no. I'm not uncomfortable at all. This is just like home. Thanks for inviting me in—um, why did you invite me in, again?"

  "I wanted to tell you about our landlord!”

  “You did? You do?” Tessa’s already troubled eyes twitched slightly.

  “I was listening to the police scanner earlier, and I heard the whole thing. I wouldn’t’ve believed it if I hadn't heard it with my own ears.” She wrinkled her nose, giving Tessa a moment’s hope that she was bothered by the strong odor too and would authorize the bubbler’s unplugging. But she just went on, “Actually, I didn't hear with my own ears. I had to turn my hearing aids way up to catch it. But, even using those cheaters, I know what they said."

  Tessa leaned forward so her elbows were resting on her knees. "Really? What did you hear?"

  "For one, I heard that my old boss Artemis Green died this morning." She shook her head, and a pink foam curler popped out from under the woman's beige-colored bandanna.

  "I'm sorry to hear you lost an, um, employer.”

  “Oh, I’d say he was much more than that. I’d say we were friends—as good as one can be with their boss.”

  That stung a little. Tessa wanted to believe the dynamic between she and Gloria would stay the same. Granted, she didn’t know what type of work Mrs. Cross did. She doubted it was reaping souls.

  “Well, I’m sorry you lost a friend. What happened to him?" Not only did Tessa think it was a good idea to play along with the conversation to keep Mrs. Cross happy, but she was also hoping to figure out what everyone thought Mr. Green might've died from.

  "Yes, yes. He and I go way back.” Mrs. Cross disregarded the question, choosing instead to languish in her memories. She sat back in her chair, her voice smoothing out from her usual cackle as she reminisced. “I used to work at his house, you know. I did the cleaning there, and then I was in the kitchen for a while. But I’m horrible in the kitchen, and, out of self-defense for his taste buds, Artemis quickly moved me out to work with horses.”

  “They’re gorgeous,” Tessa said offhand, remembering those she’d seen while hiding in the grounds at Artemis’s house. She realized her mistake. “I mean horses in general. I, uh, I love them.”

  Mrs. Cross squinted but seemed to believe the quick correction. “Yes. They’re very fine creatures. And Artemis only brought the best specimens into his barn. He never rode himself, but he liked to have them around for his kids and grandkids and their friends. Most of the time, the horses lived like kings, getting the finest food and veterinary care.

  “Two wipe-downs every day in the very best brushes. Every once in a while, one of them would get saddled up and ridden for half an hour or so, but the rest of the time, their lives were their own. Anyway, I got to know Artemis pretty well during all that time.”

  “You did?”

  “While he wasn’t a rider, you could usually find him somewhere near the barn. He loved the outdoors. Plus, I think he just liked to get out of the house, and away from Mrs. Green.”

  “Oh?” Tessa leaned in closer. She tried to put her question delicately. “Was she not very nice?”

  “It wasn’t like that, dear. She was often sick and bedridden. Some sort of autoimmune disease. Spent her time indoors with her calligraphy. I think it pained Artemis to see her that way.”

  “Oh.” Tessa rubbed at her reddening eyes.

  “But like I was saying, he loved the outdoors. He and my husband used to play golf every once in a while—Artemis would invite Stanley and pay for everything. He was a very generous man."

  "It certainly sounds like it. How long did you work there?"

  She pondered the question as though trying to read the answer on an imaginary sheet of paper. “Well. This was years ago. But let’s see. I was in the kitchen for about six months before Sky took over my position and I went to the barn. And I was in the barn for about fifteen years, I think.”

  “Sky?”

  “A flower child, they used to call them. She was a much better chef than I was but kind of a brat. I’ve always been surprised Artemis didn’t kick her out on her behind. But he never did. I believe her daughter Lark works there now, actually. In the same position, not in the barn.” She re-focused and nodded curtly. “It was nice out there. Got to be alone most of the time. The only people I reported to were Artemis and then Nathaniel.”

  “Nathaniel?”

  “Artemis’s son-in-law. Real piece of work, he is. Never did a lick of work in his life—only real decision he ever made was to marry into the Green family wealth—but likes to act like the king of the castle. He’d come into the barn and stir up a bunch of dust about one thing or another and then leave again.”

  “What did you do about that?” These all seemed like more li
kely culprits than Silas. Tessa wished the police had stopped to interview Mrs. Cross.

  “I learned to bite my tongue when he arrived and ignore everything he’d said once he was gone again.” She snorted. “Sometimes you have to do that in your professional life, you know. Let the boss think he’s in charge but do things the right way when he isn’t looking. Makes everyone happy.”

  Tessa wanted to argue. To tell Mrs. Cross it was stupid to do that. That you should be able to tell your boss you had a better way of doing something and accept the credit when it went well. But she swallowed the words. Mrs. Cross was past her working days, and it wasn’t going to do any good to argue with the elderly woman now.

  Mrs. Cross clucked her tongue. "Well, anyway, Nathaniel will probably take over the place now. Likely, he’ll run it into disrepair. That is if his wife, Hannah, lets him. Because Artemis is gone now, and old Mrs. Green is in no shape to do much of anything.”

  “That’s terrible.” Tessa wanted to console Mrs. Cross. But even more, she wanted to make a getaway. The smell was that bad.

  “According to the scanner, he died in his breakfast cereal,” Mrs. Cross continued. “When the police got there, they didn't have any reason to think there was any foul play involved. It looked like he just had a heart attack and keeled over while he was eating breakfast. But, of course, they fanned out and looked around the place anyway. That's when one of the officers found a bottle of Grime Slayer. You know the stuff, girl?”

  Tessa nodded. She watched enough late-night TV that the jingle for the heavy-duty cleaner with the tagline “It’s murder on muck,” got stuck in her head weekly. She started singing it, and Mrs. Cross joined in.

  When they were done, the elderly woman chuckled. “Anyway, it’s no surprise they’d have cleaner around—Artemis insisted on a spotless home. But the stuff was in the kitchen, right on the counter next to the spot where someone would've made Artemis’s breakfast. That's when the cops got a little suspicious, and one of them asked the staff to see the security footage of the house."

  Tessa almost smacked her forehead with a palm but remembered at the last minute that she shouldn't act like she knew anything about the situation. So, she smacked her forehead internally.

  Of course. The security cameras.

  She'd known where to look for them and how to get around them at an angle where she wouldn’t be caught on film, but Silas wouldn’t have been thinking about any of that. He probably just barged straight through their field of view. "But why would Silas be at Mr. Green's house?"

  Mrs. Cross scoffed. “How should I know? I thought he was a very fine boy. I even gave him some money from my lottery winnings." She shook her head again, more violently this time, and two more rollers escaped from their bandana fabric captor. "I can't believe I was so wrong about him. I'm usually a fine judge of character. But he was at Mr. Green's house, skulking around. So, the cops got a search warrant.”

  Tessa nodded along, thinking it couldn’t get any worse. There was no way there’d be anything linking Silas to Artemis Green’s death here at the apartment complex.

  “They came here to Mist River Manor and searched Silas’s apartment and his pickup truck." Her sharp eyes met Tessa's, and Mrs. Cross scowled. "They found an open bottle of Grime Slayer right in that boy’s truck cab. I just can't believe he wasn't smart enough to hide it better."

  "Hide it? You mean, you think Silas actually had something to do with this man's death?"

  "Well, of course I do. And I'm no slouch in the mystery solving department, girl. I watch all the BBC mysteries of them all the time, plus I get my Agatha Christie and Sherlock Holmes from the library. This is an open and shut case if I ever heard one."

  "I'm not sure . . ."

  But Mrs. Cross interrupted Tessa. "Now, girl, I know you had the hots for our landlord, but you're just going to have to give up on that idea.”

  The hots? Tessa had to hold in a laugh at the words that seemed so mismatched to the woman in front of her.

  Mrs. Cross continued, “The boy’s a murderer. We'll have to get a new landlord in here and you're just going to have to find a new love interest." She scooched to the end of her chair, grabbed a cane leaning on the coffee table in front of her, and struggled to her feet.

  Tessa jumped up, setting the plastic to crackling, and offered a hand to the elderly lady. But Mrs. Cross slapped it away. "I think I can get around in my own home. Now, I guess I'll be having my nap now. I just wanted to make sure you understood what that man of yours is all about. Tread carefully, now. Don't get pulled into trouble yourself."

  She headed toward the back of the apartment, not bothering to walk Tessa to the door, and disappeared into the hallway without another word.

  Tessa hurried out of the apartment, closing the door firmly behind her, and drew in a deep breath, as though Mrs. Cross’s assessment of Mr. Green’s death was bad air that she could clear out by inhaling fresh oxygen.

  It didn’t work. But her nose and eyes did appreciate the gift of potpourri-free air.

  Tessa wiped her eyes on a sleeve and then trudged toward her apartment again.

  Mrs. Cross might think it was an open and shut case against Silas, but she was wrong. It was anything but that. Still, it was highly unlikely that the investigators, a jury, or a judge would see it Tessa’s way. Not without more information, anyway. They would see Silas on the security camera footage and the cleaner in his truck that matched the one found in Artemis's kitchen.

  They’d consider it open and shut too.

  A war of emotions was taking place inside Tessa's chest. She felt guilty. If it wasn’t for her, Silas wouldn’t be in this mess.

  But she also felt angry. Couldn’t he just have trusted her? She'd never done anything to warrant him not believing what she said and following her around the way he had—twice!

  Now he’d gone and gotten himself in a whole heap of trouble, and it was going to be up to Tessa to try and get him out.

  Only she had no idea how to do that. Frustration rolled over and through her like a giant tidal wave.

  Then it hit her, and she groaned. The only way to get Silas out of the mess was to figure out who had killed Artemis Green. Because not only did the cops think there was foul play involved, but the man himself had too.

  “I see your groan and raise you a deep sigh.” Abi leaned against Tessa’s apartment door. She grinned and held up both hands to show Tessa what she held. “I figured that was how you’d be feeling after Mrs. Cross yanked you into her horribly stinky apartment. She did the same to me—to tell me what happened to Silas. So, I brought wine and ice cream to help you feel better.”

  Tessa thought about sending her friend home. But there was nothing she could do to help Silas right then. So, she forced a smile and reached around Abi to unlock the door. “That sounds perfect. Come on in.”

  Chapter 7

  "TESSA RANDOLPH, GET your booty in my office immediately!"

  For a second, Tessa thought she had transported back to when her mother was in charge. But it wasn't Cheryl yelling for her presence—it was Gloria, who'd stuck her head out to bark the order and then pulled it back into her office.

  In trouble, yet again. New boss. Same problems.

  Tessa shuffled in and shut the door behind her when Gloria jabbed a finger at it. Whatever Gloria wanted, Tessa hoped it didn’t take long. As soon as she’d woken up that morning, she'd been anxious to start her new side gig—figuring out who had killed Artemis Green. Only then could she get Silas out of trouble.

  Her reaper app hadn't shown any appointments, but a text shimmered on her screen, ordering her to head to the Cooper's Life Insurance building. She’d barely crossed the threshold when Gloria yelled for her.

  Now, Gloria’s mouth was a firm line as she tilted her head and examined Tessa.

  “What’s up?” Tessa ventured.

  "You didn't tell me the reap Silas followed you on was for the Artemis Green." Gloria's eyes, lids covered with a gorgeous shade
of fuchsia eyeshadow, were wide as they pinned Tessa with a hard look. "That was a pretty important bit of information to leave out."

  Tessa shrugged. "Was it? Sorry. I didn’t know who the Artemis Green was until yesterday. Actually, I still really don't get why he’s such a big deal."

  Gloria gave her head a little shake, setting her braids to bouncing. "I thought everybody in Mist River knew Mr. Green. I don't know how you grew up here and didn't know about him." She lowered herself into an office chair and stared at Tessa, her expression bordering on reproachful.

  "I don't know. I just never had a lot of contact with rich old guys." Tessa sat on the edge of Gloria's desk. "And it’s not like he's the only rich old guy who lives over in that area of town. So, why is this particular dude so important?"

  "Well, for one, he's a self-made multimillionaire. As in, he started with nothing and built himself up. Which is unlike most of the other rich folk in this town. How they keep living on old money, I’ll never understand. And second, because I said multimillionaire. And I don't just mean a few millions—I mean hundreds of millions."

  "Wow. That's pretty interesting. How’d he make that kind of money from nothing?"

  Gloria wrinkled her nose. "I don't know. Something boring like the stock market or banking or real estate or perhaps all three.” She waved a hand, dismissing the importance of that particular bit of information. “But, like I said, he's a big deal, and his lawyers aren’t going to spare any expense trying to get Silas convicted of his murder."

  Tessa winced and stretched her neck, first to one side and then the other. "Okay, I've been thinking about this. The only way to get Silas out of this is to figure out who really did poison Mr. Green. Can't we just look at his file and find out who killed him?"

  But Gloria was shaking her head before the full question was out of Tessa's mouth. "Nope, it doesn't work that way. Our job is to escort souls to the other side of the veil, not to worry about how or why they died. It's just not the sort of thing that's included in our record keeping." She pushed off the armrests, getting to her feet. "Come on. I'm going to be mentoring you through your reaps today."