Death by Auction

by Alexis Morgan

  MURDER AT THE AUCTION

  Growing increasingly frustrated with the situation, she checked the time. Bryce had been outside for almost twenty minutes. If he didn’t show up soon, she’d give up and just mail his check. On the other hand, there was always an outside chance he’d stopped to talk to someone else on their way out. If she hurried, she might just catch him.

  As soon as she reached the parking lot, she realized chasing after him was a stupid idea. She had no idea what kind of car he drove, so there was no way to know whether or not he’d already left.

  As she made her way back to the door, she heard a faint beeping noise, the kind a car made when the door was left open. If that was the problem, she’d just close it so the battery didn’t die. If there was something else wrong, she would memorize the license plate number and make an announcement once she got back inside.

  Naturally, the car was parked all the way at the distant end of the lot. As she drew closer, it was clear that the driver’s door was still open even though the beeping noise had finally stopped. Odd that someone would’ve walked away and left it like that, but there was no one in sight. But as she rounded the end of the car, she realized it wasn’t only the battery that was dead.

  The owner was, too....

  Books by Alexis Morgan

  DEATH BY COMMITTEE

  DEATH BY JACK-O’-LANTERN

  DEATH BY AUCTION

  Published by Kensington Publishing Corporation

  DEATH BY AUCTION

  Alexis Morgan

  KENSINGTON BOOKS

  www.kensingtonbooks.com

  All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

  Table of Contents

  MURDER AT THE AUCTION

  Also by

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Epilogue

  KENSINGTON BOOKS are published by

  Kensington Publishing Corp.

  119 West 40th Street

  New York, NY 10018

  Copyright © 2020 by Patricia Pritchard

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

  Kensington and the K logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.

  First Kensington Books Mass Market Paperback Printing: June 2020

  ISBN: 978-1-4967-1955-3

  ISBN-13: 978-1-4967-1958-4 (ebook)

  ISBN-10: 1-4967-1958-1 (ebook)

  This book is dedicated to the wonderful ladies in my book club. Thank you for all the great discussions, the laughter, the amazing refreshments, and, most of all, your friendship!

  I also want to thank my agent, Michelle Grajkowski, for her constant support. Having her in my life has made all the difference in my journey as a writer. As well, I am really grateful for everything my editor, John Scognamiglio, and everyone at Kensington have done to help me polish the Abby McCree Mysteries to the shiny bright best they can be.

  Chapter One

  “I’m pretty sure I hate you for making me do this.”

  Abby McCree prayed for patience and kept driving. “No, you don’t.”

  Tripp Blackston, her tenant and usually her friend, didn’t back off his stance on the upcoming event. The former Special Forces soldier took up far more than his fair share of the front seat as he sat there with his arms crossed over his chest and wearing a take-no-prisoners expression on his handsome face. “For the record, these days I don’t appreciate being volunteered for missions without being asked first.”

  Okay, enough was enough. She couldn’t believe he’d gone there. Rather than punch the man, which would’ve been childish, she tightened her grip on the steering wheel. “Um, I assume you do realize the reason I ended up organizing this fund-raiser for your veterans group in the first place was that someone volunteered me. Let’s see now, who could that have been?”

  Tapping her chin with her forefinger as if struggling to remember, she finally shot him a narrow-eyed look. “Oh, yeah, that would be you.”

  Before he could launch another salvo, Abby staged a preemptive strike of her own. “The original deal was that you and I were supposed to be co-chairs on the event, but somehow I ended up flying solo ninety percent of the time, maybe even ninety-five.”

  She paused long enough to make a left turn across what constituted heavy traffic in Snowberry Creek, which meant shooting between the only two oncoming cars on Main Street.

  Driving into the parking lot on the other side of the road, Abby picked up the discussion where she’d left off. “I do realize that was because you’d gotten behind in your classes at the college and had to get caught up or risk falling behind a year in your studies. Of course, that was because you’d gotten yourself thrown into jail right when we were supposed to be brainstorming ideas together.”

  “I was protecting—”

  “I know, I know. You were protecting your friend, but your decision to do that had consequences. One of them is that you’re going to be strutting your stuff up there on that stage tonight for a good cause.”

  By that point, she’d run out of fresh ammunition in their ongoing battle over the bachelor/bachelorette auction she’d arranged to kick off the two-part fund-raising event for his veterans group. The close-knit organization had big plans, ones that could really help other veterans in the area. But to carry out those plans, their budget needed a huge boost.

  Tripp had asked her to take on the project as a personal favor. Well, actually, he’d guilted her into doing it. Something about him having helped her deal with a dead body in her backyard a few months back. Fine, so she’d owed him big-time. The least he could do was let her honor the debt without giving her constant grief about it.

  She pulled into a parking spot near the entrance of the hall they’d rented for the auction, as well as the dance that would follow in two weeks. After shutting off the engine, she made no move to get out of the car.

  “Look, I’m sorry you hate this so much, but it was the best idea I came up with. The whole board liked the concept and approved it immediately.”

  Nothing but silence from the other side of the car.

  “The good news is that two weeks from now, it will all be over.”

  Tripp wasn’t the only one who couldn’t wait to put all of this behind them. There was nothing but stubborn silence coming from her companion, so she gave up and reached to open her door. He could come inside the building and be helpful, or sit out in the car and mope. His choice. She refrained from pointing out sulking wasn’t a good image for a soldier, even a retired one.

  At least he got out of the car and even helped her carry in the last three baskets of goodies that had been d
onated by local businesses. She had volunteers lined up to sell chances on the baskets, which she hoped would help get the evening off to a great start. Some of the businesses had shown a lot of creativity when it came to putting their offerings together. In fact, she had her eye on a couple that she wouldn’t mind taking back home with her.

  Tripp followed her over to the row of tables arranged across the back of the hall, where the baskets were displayed. “You can set those two down there.”

  He did as she asked but continued to trail along in her wake, crowding her just a little. Finally, she set her own basket down and turned to face him.

  “Did you have something else you wanted to say, Tripp? If so, spit it out. I’ve got work to do before the doors open.”

  He no longer looked angry. In fact, if she had to guess, Tripp looked . . . embarrassed? What was going on in that head of his? All of her irritation with him morphed into concern.

  “Tripp, what’s wrong?”

  He glanced around the big room as if to make sure they were still alone before zeroing in his attention back on her. “Don’t let her buy me, Abby. Bid whatever you have to and I’ll pay you back. I promise.”

  “Don’t let who buy you?”

  “Jean.” His broad shoulders slumped in defeat. “Don’t get me wrong. She’s a really nice lady, but taking her to the dance would be like dating my best friend’s grandmother.”

  Abby bit back the urge to laugh. Clearly he didn’t find anything about the situation funny. “What makes you think she’s planning on bidding on you?”

  “Let’s just say she strongly hinted at the possibility and more than once.”

  Abby wasn’t privy to all the details about the elderly woman’s finances, but she’d always had the impression that Jean lived on a pretty limited income. If so, she certainly shouldn’t blow a wad of cash on a onetime outing with Tripp, not even for a good cause.

  On the other hand, judging by how often Jean showed up at Tripp’s door with one of her infamous tuna casseroles, she definitely had a thing for the man. So did at least two other members of the quilting guild that Abby headed up. She’d somehow inherited the position on the guild board along with the house she now lived in when her aunt Sybil passed away. Tripp lived in the small mother-in-law house on the back of the property and attended classes at the local college. In return for a reduction in his rent, he did a lot of work on the yard and small repairs on both houses.

  Jean, along with her best friends Glenda and Louise, loved to watch him work, especially on hot days when he took off his shirt.

  Okay, maybe she did owe him a little something for putting him through this. That didn’t mean she couldn’t give him a little grief along the way. “I’m sorry, but you can’t pay for a date with yourself, Tripp. That wouldn’t be right. I’m sure it would be against the rules.”

  He took another step closer. “What rules, Abby? You set up this whole event. That means you can do things however you want.”

  True enough. Even though she hadn’t said so, she’d planned all along to bid on him. It was just too much fun watching him squirm to let him off the hook too easily.

  “Regardless, I can’t stop her from bidding.”

  And they both knew it would hurt her feelings if they tried.

  “Look, forget I asked. I’m just not into this kind of thing, and it’s weirding me out on so many fronts.”

  She didn’t need the reminder that he was a pretty private person. Heck, she’d known him for over a year now and still had no idea what degree he was working toward at the college. On the other hand, she knew for a fact he’d risk his own life to keep her safe.

  “This is a new experience for all of us, but at least you won’t be alone up there on the stage. Gage even volunteered to lead things off.”

  She’d been pleasantly surprised by that, although it was a huge relief that she didn’t have to beg someone to take that first step down the runway. Gage was the local chief of police and an army veteran. He and Tripp had actually served together at some point in the past, the details of which neither man had ever seemed eager to share with her.

  That was a discussion for another day. Right now, she had a long checklist she needed to finish up before the auction was due to start.

  “I promise I’ll do my best to make all of this as painless for you as possible. Right now, though, I’ve got to finish up a few things before the onrushing hordes start arriving.”

  Tripp snickered. “And what happens if these hordes you’re planning on don’t actually show up?”

  The last thing she needed was for him to mention her worst fear out loud. What would happen if no one came? She’d lost enough sleep the past few weeks over that very idea. “Don’t say that. You’ll jinx everything!”

  The big jerk actually looked happy for the first time all day. “What’s the matter, Abs? You’re not superstitious, are you?”

  “I am when it comes to stuff like this. It’s a lot of responsibility. We can’t give even the idea of failure a chance to get a toehold in our thinking. Your group has already paid out a lot of money in advance of these events, money they can’t afford to lose.”

  Not to mention she’d feel obligated to pay them back if her idea fell flat on its face. She’d done everything she could to keep the overhead to a minimum, but the expense would definitely put a crimp in her lifestyle for a while.

  To derail any more discussion along that line, she pointed Tripp toward the tables shoved up against the wall. “Would you start dragging those out and arrange them in rows? The rest of the crew should be arriving soon to help finish setting up.”

  “And here I thought I was only here as part of the evening’s entertainment. No one said anything about having to do a bunch of grunt work, too. How disappointing.”

  Despite his complaint, he headed off toward the tables. She left him to it and moved on to the next item on her list.

  * * *

  Ninety minutes later, Abby stood against the back wall and surveyed her surroundings. The hall was pleasantly crowded, far more so than she’d expected it to be even in her wildest dreams. So far everyone seemed to be having a good time. For sure, the caterers had outdone themselves, serving a wide variety of hors d’oeuvres coupled with wines from local vineyards, along with coffee, tea, and soft drinks.

  The evening was rolling along smoothly, at least so far. There was only one problem. The actual auction was scheduled to start in fifteen minutes, and there was still no sign of Bryce Cadigan, the man Abby had hired to run the whole shebang. Bryce was a Seattle radio personality, but he’d grown up right here in Snowberry Creek. She’d checked his references, and he’d come highly recommended.

  Traffic in the Puget Sound area was problematic at times, and he’d texted to let her know that he’d gotten caught in the backup caused by an accident. While she understood that had been out of his control, he’d promised to arrive an hour before the auction was supposed to begin. Judging from where he’d been when he texted her, there was no way he’d left when he should have.

  Unless the crowd got super restless, she would delay the start of the festivities up to an extra half hour and then step in and do the best she could on her own. While she really didn’t want to emcee the actual bachelor auction, picking the winners for the baskets wouldn’t be all that hard to do.

  A distinguished looking man with a scattering of silver in his dark hair stepped out of the crowd to head right for her. She’d first met Pastor Jack Haliday the day she’d presented her ideas about the fund-raiser to the veterans group. Just like Gage, he’d volunteered to be another one of her “victims,” as they’d taken to calling everyone who had agreed to be auctioned off tonight. When she’d asked him if he was really sure he wanted to do it, he’d stared into the distance for several seconds before responding.

  “I can’t lead from behind, Abby. Helping those who served our country is important to me. I’ll do whatever it takes for our mission to succeed.”

  As he
spoke, he had the same shadows in his eyes that she sometimes saw in Tripp’s and even Gage’s. None of them talked much about their time in combat, but it had definitely left its mark on all three men. The power in his answer had helped carry her through all the hassles involved in getting something like this up and running.

  Jack scanned the room. “I’m thrilled with the turnout tonight.”

  Relieved was more like it, but thrilled also worked. “I am, too. I finally feel like I can breathe again.”

  His smile turned sympathetic. “We never meant for you to feel that all of this was on your shoulders.”

  She put on a brave face. “I really didn’t.”

  Okay, they both knew that was a lie. “Well, not all the time. One of the positives Tripp told me when he asked me to help out was that your group was used to working as a team and taking orders. He was right about that. Whenever I posted a job description that needed to be filled, there was someone ready and willing to step up to get it done. No nagging necessary. I can’t tell you how refreshing that was.”

  “Yeah, we have a good bunch of people in the group.”

  He dropped his voice. “I actually came over because I noticed you keep checking the time and watching the door. Is something wrong?”

  “Our guest of honor for tonight hasn’t arrived. He texted to say he’d gotten stuck in a backup on I-5, but I thought he’d be here by now. If he doesn’t show up soon, I’ll start the evening’s festivities myself by picking the winners for all the baskets.”

  “Good plan. Let me know if I can do anything to help.”

  Before she could answer, the door that led out to the parking lot opened and a tall man wearing a tuxedo walked into the room. Although she’d never met Bryce Cadigan in person, she recognized him from the pictures on his website. Well, except he’d been smiling in all the photos he’d posted there. He wasn’t now.