Missy DeMeanor Cozy Mysteries Boxset

by Brianna Bates

  But she just couldn’t do it.

  “Thanks, Bob. I’d like to think about it.”

  His smile narrowed just a millimeter. “Great safety rating, great gas mileage, we’ve got a great leasing deal too if you don’t want to commit long-term. What is holding you back?”

  Missy couldn’t stop thinking about her truck. Mom had talked her friend Ben Ryan, the semi-retired mechanic, to take a look at the old thing and see if there was any way he could extend its life. For twelve hundred dollars, he could replace a few parts and maybe—no promises—get the thing to run again for a couple more years. Maybe three. But no guarantees.

  She knew it was a huge gamble. But if she could get the truck working again for just twelve hundred bucks and go another two years without a car payment, that would help a lot. It would give her time to figure out what she wanted to do for work since she could no longer ignore the fate of the bookstore.

  On the other hand, Mom had offered to help with the down payment on the car. It would be good not to have to constantly worry about breaking down on the side of the road.

  Then again, where did she ever go? Her commute was less than four miles, Mom lived fifteen minutes away, and she spent most of her time in Grove City. Once or twice a month she traveled any distance…

  “If you tell me what the roadblock is, maybe we can work something out,” Bob said.

  She knew it as she stood there: she wanted her truck back. It was not the logical thing to do, but that was how she felt.

  In the gentle breeze, the flags and signs at the car dealership fluttered. It was another sweaty September night. This place had been here for as long as Missy could remember, a family run dealership. She’d driven right by it probably thousands of times.

  “Thanks for your time. I’ll call you if I’m interested.”

  “Melissa, hang on a second.”

  But instead of stopping, she gave him a little wave goodbye over her shoulder and got into the passenger seat of Mom’s car.

  Mom looked over at her. “Couldn’t do it?”

  Missy shook her head.

  ***

  They stopped for pizza at a parlor and talked a long time about nothing and everything. Mom brought up the second murder, and Missy talked for a little bit but ultimately she had nothing substantive to share.

  Kevin was dead because someone thought he’d killed Olivia, or because he’d killed Ren, or that he’d killed both, or that he’d known who’d killed Ren and/or Olivia and they wanted him silenced.

  Which limited the suspect pool to Meghan or Sharon, or one of their other friends Missy hadn’t even spoken to yet.

  Mom sat forward in the booth across from her. “Missy, don’t you think it’s time to let the police handle this?”

  Missy shook her head. “I can’t let this go, Mom. I know it has to be one of Olivia’s friends.”

  Mom reached out and took her hand. “What are you going to do?”

  “I’ll think of something.”

  Mom looked like she had more to say but instead picked up her slice of pizza and took a tiny bite.

  “Mom.”

  “That’s what they call me.”

  “Last year, when Al Switzer was killed…”

  “Missy, I’ve already told you I don’t want to talk about it.”

  Missy had let it go before many times, but tonight she was determined. Not this time.

  “Mom, I’m your daughter.”

  “Exactly.”

  “And I’m a grown woman. Tyler arrested you, but you gave him an alibi that he had to accept.”

  “Missy, I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “You weren’t with me, so you were with somebody else.”

  Mom said nothing.

  “Who was he?”

  “I can’t tell you,” Mom said.

  “Can’t or won’t?”

  “Is there really a difference when you get right down to it?”

  “Sure there is.” Missy felt herself getting angry. She was tired of Mom keeping things from her, still treating her like she was a child and not old or mature enough to handle the truth. “I want to know what happened.”

  “I was with someone else, that’s all you need to know.”

  Missy shook her head. “God, Mom. I’m not going to be mad. Dad’s been gone a long time now. I was actually hoping you’d find another man.”

  “He’s married, Missy.”

  The conversation came to a screeching halt.

  “That’s why I can’t tell you.”

  Missy looked at her mother with new eyes. “Married?”

  Mom nodded. “It’s a long story.”

  The mother she knew would never—never—see a married man.

  “You can’t tell anyone.”

  “The last thing I’m going to do is tell everybody my mother is having an affair.”

  “I’m not the one having the affair.”

  “Mom!” Missy sat up. “Talk about splitting hairs.”

  “And neither is he for that matter. Not really.”

  Missy leaned forward. “Explain.”

  “His wife left him many years ago but they never got divorced. He wanted to keep her on his insurance and he’s always paid her mortgage.”

  Missy had to think about it for ten seconds. “Mr. Worrilow?”

  Mom said nothing, but the answer was in her eyes.

  “Mr. Worrilow? Really?” He was a nice man as far as Missy could tell. Mom and he went to the same church.

  Funny to think of church at a time like this.

  “He’s married, though,” Missy said.

  Mom shook her head. “Not really, Miss. They’ve been separated for a long time. As a matter of fact, she’s been with another man for awhile.”

  Missy could not wrap her brain around this whole set-up, let alone the fact her mother was somehow involved.

  Mom smiled. “Don’t look at me like that. When you get older and you don’t have much time left, you figure out which rules are the important ones and which aren’t.”

  Missy was speechless.

  Mom squeezed her hand. “It took me too long to learn that in this life, you have to make your own happiness. It’s why I’ve been telling you to go after what you want. You can’t just sit around and wait for things to happen.”

  Missy looked down at her half-eaten slice of pizza. Her appetite was gone. “I have been doing a lot of that recently.”

  “It’s okay.”

  “If I knew what I wanted, Mom, I’d go get it. The problem is, I don’t.”

  Mom leaned forward. “Melissa, deep down you know what you want. Everybody does. But to go after it takes courage.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Melissa.”

  She finally brought her eyes back up.

  Mom said, “You are the bravest woman I’ve ever met.”

  Missy laughed. “You do realize I have to take every compliment you give me with a grain of salt, you being my mother and all.”

  “I do know that.” Mom smiled. “But here I’m right. You have no police training but you didn’t hesitate one second to help on, what is it, four murder investigations? And every time, even though your life has been in danger, you step up?”

  Missy said nothing. She’d never been good at taking compliments.

  “That’s what I mean. You’re the bravest woman I’ve ever met.”

  “Thanks, Mom.”

  “Oh, and there’s one more thing I have to tell you.”

  “Oh boy, here we go.”

  Mom shook her head. “It’s nothing serious. I wanted to talk to you about the scrapbooking pages you’re submitting for the competition.”

  “You mean the ones of us, showing our relationship through the seasons?”

  Mom nodded. “I think they’re just lovely. But I can tell you’re not thrilled with them.”

  Missy tried to lie. “Mom, what are you—”

  Mom held out a palm. “Don’t lie to me, Melissa, to spare my feelings. Y
ou’re not a good liar and I know you better than anybody.”

  Missy leaned back and smiled. “Okay, you caught me. I think they’re good, but they’re not award-worthy.”

  “I just wanted to say, if there was something else you wanted to submit that you thought had a better chance at winning, don’t worry about my feelings. Go for the gold, Melissa DeMeanor.”

  Missy tipped her head back and laughed. “It’s a shame I literally have nothing else to submit.”

  Mom checked her watch. “You still have time.”

  “The competition is tomorrow morning.” She was not looking forward to it anymore. Truth be told, she wanted to pass. The rest of the scrapbooking gang would be there, including Noreen and Tonya. She didn’t feel like being around them.

  “And I’ve seen you repurpose a liquor cabinet, read a book and write a report, and paint an entire floor in one night before. All I’m saying is, you could do it if you want.”

  Missy sighed. “I do not have that in me tonight. It’s been a long week.”

  Mom shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

  “I mean, what would my theme even be?”

  “Friendship.”

  Something clicked in Missy’s mind. “Say that again.”

  “Friendship,” Mom said. “I know you pretended to be doing a page about Olivia and her friends so you could talk to Mrs. Oakley and Meghan. Why not just do the same thing for yourself? You and Noreen are going through a transition and it might help you process it.”

  Mom had given her not one, but two ideas. And the best part? Missy knew she could solve the murder now through scrapbooking.

  “Mom.” Missy smiled. “You’re a genius.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  M issy heard the car pull into her driveway. On the way home, she’d made two calls. If she was right, she’d know who the killer was in the next five minutes.

  She’d left Cody at Mom’s house. There was no reason to bring the dog here and risk getting her hurt too.

  Missy walked through the living room and stepped behind the couch. Parting the curtains in the bay window, she saw the car parked in her driveway. Its lights winked out. For a moment, the driver just sat there.

  Missy was beginning to doubt the wisdom of her plan, but then Sharon got out of the car. There was no turning back now. As the woman headed for the house, her gait was unsteady like she was drunk again…or just still drunk.

  Missy took a deep breath and waited in the foyer. Now for the hard part.

  The doorbell rang, and Missy gave it till the count of three for everybody to get into position. She’d kept the interior of the house mostly dark, only the lights in the living room were on.

  She opened the front door. “Hi, Sharon.”

  “Hi, Missy.” The other woman was having a hard time standing still. If the police wanted, they could have just arrested Sharon for drunk driving.

  “Come on in.” Missy smiled like everything was fine. “My scrapbook is in the living room.”

  Sharon hesitated on the doorstep, and Missy was sure the woman was going to pull a gun out of her purse. But Sharon wobbled for a moment, not saying anything, and then abruptly stepped inside. Missy closed the door behind them. Sharon’s hands were empty.

  “Do you have the picture?” Sharon asked.

  “The living room is right through here.” Missy pointed, keeping her distance as much as she could from Sharon without seeming too weird.

  “So the picture’s in there?” Sharon asked.

  Missy hesitated. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. They were supposed to go into the living room, where Missy would hold up the printout from Olivia’s page of the group shot with Kevin’s car in the background.

  “I want you to see the whole spread,” Missy said.

  Sharon wobbled some more. But her hands remained in sight, and Missy felt comfortable enough leading her into the living room. Through the darkness, she saw shapes shifting in the shadows.

  “Okay,” Sharon said.

  Missy walked into the living room. Her scrapbook was open on the coffee table to about the mid-point. Around the book Missy had spread piles and piles of pictures. Watching Sharon’s eyes, she caught the other woman frantically scanning the photographs.

  “Have a seat,” Missy said. “Can I get you anything?”

  “Anything with alcohol in it.” Sharon actually hiccupped when she said it.

  “Beer?”

  “As long as it’s not non-alcoholic.”

  Missy kept smiling, even though her insides were churning. “Be right back.”

  Sharon lowered her head and began spreading the piles of pictures out even more, desperately trying to find the one. On her way over, Missy had called Sharon about wanting to finish up those pages for Olivia and wondering where to put that one group shot, the one “with the red tail lights in the background.” The other woman had leapt at the chance to help her.

  Missy stepped into the kitchen. Tyler was just a shadow. His gun was already out, and he nodded at her.

  Missy took her time opening the fridge. “You know what’s funny, Sharon?”

  “What?”

  Missy made a lot of noise in the fridge to keep up the illusion she was getting drinks. “That car in the picture…Kevin told me it was his the other night.”

  Sharon said nothing.

  “But I thought you guys—I mean he—wasn’t there that night, not until after Ren died. So it couldn’t have been him.”

  Sharon still said nothing.

  Missy uncapped the beer bottle and looked back at Tyler. He nodded to go ahead.

  “I mean, if it was him, the cops could run the plates. I know the picture is grainy but the technology they have these days is unbelievable. They could probably do something with the image to see the license.”

  Sharon was eerily quiet.

  “But you know what the strange thing is?” Missy asked.

  Sharon didn’t answer. She made no noise whatsoever.

  “I don’t think Kevin killed Ren. So why—”

  Suddenly footsteps sounded as Sharon hurried through the living room. She screamed at the top of her lungs, wailing like a banshee.

  Missy froze, even though Tyler was right next to her and the house was crawling with cops. She didn’t know what to do.

  Then there was a bump followed by a crash, and Sharon stopped screaming.

  ***

  Vinnie had forced Sharon face first into the carpet and buried one knee in her back. Tyler came around to take the gun out of her hand before she shot anybody. Missy felt an enormous wave of relief wash over her.

  Sharon continued to buck like an animal and scream as Vinnie Mirandized and cuffed her.

  “It was an accident!” she yelled. “An accident! I didn’t mean to kill her!”

  “You killed Olivia?” Vinnie asked.

  “No,” Missy said. “She killed Ren all those years ago.”

  Vinnie helped Sharon to her feet. Tears streaked her face and smeared her makeup. Her eyes were wild and her chest heaved with each breath.

  “We got into an argument over nothing. About some stupid boy. She was really being a bitch and I couldn’t take it so I pushed her. She hit her head on some rocks and I thought she was dead…so I tried to make it look like a drowning…oh God…”

  Missy felt numb.

  Tyler stepped between her and Sharon. “Okay, Sharon, let’s go to the station and talk this through.”

  Sharon looked past him, though, at Missy. “You know what friendship is like in high school. One minute you’re closer than ever, the next you’re pulling each other’s hair. You know, Missy. You have to know! Just tell me!”

  Missy said nothing.

  Sharon was crying. “Tell me you understand! Please!”

  Missy said nothing.

  “I know you do!”

  Tyler said, “Okay, Sharon, let’s go.”

  Sharon squirmed and wriggled but Tyler and Vinnie basically carried her out of the house.
<
br />   “Kevin wasn’t supposed to kill Olivia! I NEVER asked him to do that! He was just supposed to get the picture!”

  They took Sharon away.

  Missy stood in her kitchen for a moment. It took her five minutes just to be able to move around again. Outside it was humid, but she shivered anyway. Vinnie already had Sharon in the back of a cruiser. The woman’s life was over. It was all such a waste.

  As Vinnie pulled away, Missy felt Sharon’s crazy eyes on her. She held that stare for as long as she needed to, unsure what the look they shared even meant. When the car reached the bend in the road and she couldn’t see Sharon anymore, Missy sat down on the steps of her porch and hugged her knees.

  Tyler came back to the porch and put his foot on the first step. “You okay?”

  Missy nodded, even though she was far from okay.

  “So you were right again.”

  “I’m tired of being right,” Missy said, meaning it.

  Tyler nodded. “So Sharon and Kevin drove to Corey Lake together, but nobody else saw them arrive. Sharon somehow went to confront Ren when the other girl went off by herself. Sharon killed Ren, either by mistake or on purpose, doesn’t really matter much now. She swore Kevin to secrecy—”

  “She must have told him it was an accident. And he must have believed her. So they made up a story about hooking up in Kevin’s car, not getting to the lake until later.”

  “Fast-forward a decade and Olivia finds these old pictures, one of them showing Kevin’s car at Corey Lake. She puts them on Facebook.”

  “And tells her best friend, Sharon, that she’s thinking about using them for the scrapbooking competition. There’s a chance somebody recognizes his car in the background.”

  “That’s how you knew it was Sharon?” Tyler asked.

  “Friendship,” Missy said.

  Tyler didn’t understand.

  Missy nodded. “It had to be Sharon. None of Olivia’s other friends knew that she’d be at the crop with those pictures, except for Sharon.”

  “But what was the plan?” Tyler asked. “Kevin was supposed to show up and kill her?”

  “Or not. Maybe he was just supposed to intimidate her. He was a big guy.”