Laina Turner - The Trixie Pristine Boxed Set

by Laina Turner

  “Maybe you should thank Sylvia,” Sophie said. “It got you out of the worst of the cleaning.”

  “Ha! Even not having to clean doesn’t make me less angry. I can’t believe she would stoop to this level. She has what she wanted, my husband. Why can’t she just leave me alone?”

  “How do you know it was her?” I asked.

  “Besides the fact I just know it was because she hates me and is evil?”

  “Well, concrete proof would help, especially if you want to press charges.”

  “I guess I don’t have that kind of concrete proof. But who else would it be? No one else has it in for me.”

  “True, you’re a pretty likable person.” Sophie gave her a cheeky grin. “So should we get her back by messing with her car?”

  “As much as I want to, I refuse to stoop to her level, but I’m not above messing with Tom.”

  “We were headed out to grab a bite to eat,” I said. “Come with us, and we can plot against her. That should cheer you up.”

  We started walking out the door and almost collided with Tom, who was walking in. Sophie and I looked at him in shock, but one glance at Berklie, and I almost felt sorry for him. She looked about ready to kill him.

  “I got your voicemail,” Tom said. “What the hell is going on, Berklie?”

  “Your slut has finally pushed it too far this time.”

  “Come on, Berklie, stop overreacting.”

  “I’m not overreacting. That slut ruined my car. She put sugar in my gas tank!”

  “Prove it!” Tom said, defiant. “So something happened to your car. You can’t blame Sylvia every time something in your life goes wrong.”

  “The hell I can’t. My life was fine until she decided to mess with it. I know it was her, Tom. You are fixing my car, and you better tell her to leave me alone.”

  Chapter 8

  So, I heard you were at the bank yesterday?” my ex-husband Jordan said to me after I opened the front door to him. I sighed. Jordan always had something to say about everything I did and most of it usually negative. I used to think I was just an idiot with a lot of stupid ideas, but what I had finally come to realize through my divorce and subsequent therapy was he complained and was critical about everything and everyone. I just hadn’t noticed before that it wasn’t about me; it was about him and his own insecurities. His negativity was how he made himself feel better about who he was and his own shortcomings. After we split up and I realized it was just the way he was, I grew accustomed to tolerating it and soon found it annoying rather than hurtful.

  “Cody, your dad is here,” I called up to my eight-year-old son, who had run upstairs to his room to grab his baseball glove. Cody had been anxiously waiting on his dad who was taking him to the park to play catch. I was grateful that even though things hadn’t worked out for Jordan and me, he was still very involved in Cody’s life.

  “Coming, Mom!”

  “The disadvantages of living in a small town,” I replied to my ex’s question, without providing any more information than absolutely necessary. Another thing I had become better at since the divorce. Realizing I didn’t owe him a thing, explanation or otherwise.

  “Something about needing money for a business. What’s that all about?”

  Geezz, Derek had a big mouth. Wasn’t my banking business supposed to be confidential? Guess it didn’t help that Derek was one of the guys Jordan played poker with on Thursdays. “It’s really none of your business,” I said to him, hoping he would drop it.

  “I think it’s my business if you throw your money away on something stupid. What about Cody’s college?”

  Money. One of our biggest hot buttons. Guaranteed to start an argument quicker than anything. “Once again, that’s none of your business. But if you must know, the girls and I have a great idea for a business. And as far as Cody’s college fund, I’m not planning on using it, but even if I did, it’s money I have saved, not you. Maybe you should focus on writing me checks that don’t bounce.” Jordan was very selfish. He never liked me spending money on anything that wouldn’t benefit him, and he never liked to spend his own money on anything that didn’t benefit him either.

  “You don’t think opening a business in this economy is just a little irresponsible, Trixie?” he said, completely glossing over my comment about the bounced check. Typical of him. He just ignored whatever he didn’t want to deal with.

  “Once again, not your business.” Luckily I was saved from further comment by Cody barreling down the stairs with his found baseball glove and overnight bag. I grabbed him for a hug, which he reciprocated. He was already getting to the age where it was hit or miss. My baby was growing up all to fast. “Have a good time, baby cakes,” I said, ruffling his hair. “What time do you want me to pick him up tomorrow?” I asked Jordan.

  “Anytime in the afternoon is fine. Listen, I apologize for being so nosy. You’re right. It isn’t any of my business. If you need anything, let me know.”

  As is happened, every once in a while I was caught off guard by the sweet Jordan I fell in love with. The one who was nice and caring and helpful. “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind,” I said closing the door behind them as they walked out. I hated it when Cody left. The house was so empty without him. However, the girls were coming over so we could work on the business.

  Chapter 9

  What the hell happened here?” I exclaimed, walking into the new space for ReadWine.

  The contractors had been working hard the last couple weeks fixing things and installing the bookcases and pastry case and other items. The three of us had spent twelve hours the day before buying used books from people who were happy to earn a few cents from their dusty tombs, and unpacking the few boxes of new books we had ordered. We had worked hard organizing everything and putting it on the bookshelves, and now it was completely ripped apart. Books scattered across the floor, some with pages ripped out of them. The bookcases that weren’t bolted to the wall were toppled over, and someone had taken red paint and slopped it all over the floors.

  “What the fuck happened here is more like it,” said Berklie, who had walked in right behind me. Coming from Berklie, that was really strong language, as she rarely ever cussed. It was one thing she gave Sophie and me grief about. Our potty mouths, as she called them.

  “You said it, sister,” Sophie said, shaking her head. “Who would do this?”

  “All our hard work down the drain,” I said, dejected. I couldn’t imagine how this would happen. Why would anyone want to stop ReadWine from opening?

  “We need to figure out who did this,” said Sophie.

  “Yeah, but first we need to get to work cleaning up this mess. We open in two days.”

  We figured out what cleaning supplies we needed, and Sophie ran to the store while Berklie and I got to work. “Do you think maybe this was just an act of random vandalism by kids or something? Maybe we left the front door open?”

  “Could be, but I swear that door was locked when we left. Didn’t you double check it after locking the deadbolt?”

  “Yeah, but maybe it was sticking, and it just felt locked. I mean, the door doesn’t look tampered with, and the windows aren’t broken. Unless someone had a key, how could they have gotten in to do this?”

  “I don’t know.” Berklie paused a minute to think.

  “We’re likeable people, aren’t we? Who would have it in for us?”

  “The key. That’s it. That slutty bitch!”

  I was startled. Two cuss words in one morning. That was a lot from Berklie. “You mean Sylvia?”

  “It has to be. She is the only one who would have it in for us who would have access to a key.”

  “You think she would actually do something like this?”

  “I wouldn’t put anything past her,” Berklie said, walking over to her purse where she grabbed her cell phone. “I’m calling Bill to change the locks. We should have done that from the beginning.”

  “Who would have thought that Sylvia would
be this vicious? If she is the one who did it. We can’t be positive it was her.”

  “Who else…hi, Bill, it’s Berklie Greeves. I need you to come down to 1387 Main Street and change the locks. Yes, both front and back door. Thanks, Bill.” Berklie snapped her phone shut. “He’ll be here this afternoon.”

  Just as Berklie got off the phone, Sophie came back, face flushed.

  “You guys are not going to believe what I just heard,” she said, out of breath, as if she had run all the way from the market at the end of the street. “I was comparing the prices on floor cleaner when I heard Maxine Overstreet and Tilly Greenfield talking in the next aisle. I heard them say something about ReadWine and so I walked to the end of the aisle to hear better. I heard Maxine tell Tilly that Sylvia told her ReadWine would never open. She would see to it. You were right, Berklie. Sylvia is the one who did this.”

  “I knew it!” said Berklie. “She didn’t think ruining my car was enough; now she wants to mess with my livelihood. She is going to pay somehow.”

  Chapter 10

  We know it was you, Sylvia,” Berklie said.

  The three of us ran into Sylvia the next morning coming out of Jack’s office as we were going in to take care of the partnership agreement paperwork.

  “I have no idea what you could possibly be talking about, Berklie,” Sylvia said with barely concealed disdain that I had a hard time understanding, considering she was the one who had played hide the sausage with Berklie’s husband. How could she possible have anything against Berklie?

  “Oh, come off it, Sylvia. Don’t play stupid. You’re the only one who had access. Besides, we have a witness who saw you leaving our place, and Sophie heard Maxine and Tilly talking about how you told them you would make sure the shop never opened. So what do you have to say about that?”

  I was surprised to hear someone had seen Sylvia leave the shop, as this was the first I had heard of it, but I tried to recover quickly. Sylvia wasn’t as successful. The surprised and guilty look that flitted across her face clearly showed she at least knew something about what had happened at our place. I looked at Berklie and knew she had been fishing and had gotten lucky with Sylvia’s response.

  “Sylvia, I don’t know what your problem is, but you need to stay far away from me, my friends, and the shop,” Berklie said, stepping closer to Sylvia.

  I could tell Sylvia wanted to back away, but the door was behind her, and there was no place to go. “Berklie, you’re crazy. Just crazy. Now, I have someplace to be, so just leave me alone,” Sylvia said, pushing her way past Berklie.

  “I mean it, Sylvia. Stay away from us if you know what’s good for you,” Berklie said to Sylvia’s retreating back as she left the building.

  “Man, she’s a piece of work,” Sophie said.

  “Isn’t she, though?” said Berklie. “Let’s just forget about her and do what we came here for.”

  We walked into the building, and Shelley, Jack’s assistant, escorted us to his office where he was waiting. He stood up to greet us, handsome as ever in his dark blue suit. This was definitely a man I could see spending time long term with.

  “Hello, ladies. You’re all looking as lovely as ever. Shelley, can you bring us some coffee please, unless one of you would prefer something else?” He looked at us, eyebrows raised.

  “Coffee is fine with me,” I said.

  “Me, too,” said Sophie, and Berklie nodded her agreement.

  “Why was Sylvia Woods just now coming out of your office?” I asked him.

  “I don’t know.” He shrugged. “She wasn’t here to see me. She had a meeting with Bill. About what I have no idea, so don’t even ask. Besides, I couldn’t tell you even if I did know. Why?”

  “We just ran into her on our way in,” Berklie said. “Our shop was vandalized and word on the street is she did it.”

  “Word on the street?” He laughed. “What is this, a gangster movie?”

  “Be serious, Jack. Someone put sugar in Berklie’s gas tank and then trashed our shop,” I said. “It wasn’t broken into, so it had to be someone who had access to a key, and the only person who that might be—who also has a problem with one of us—is that woman.”

  Jack’s teasing face turned serious. “You really think Sylvia would stoop to that level? I know she’s done some awful things but breaking and entering, vandalism. That just seems a bit out there.”

  “She is a bit out there, Jack,” Berklie said, voice rising. “Why are you defending her?”

  “Now, Berklie, I in no way want to trivialize what she’s done. I’m just saying it seems a bit of a leap from having an affair with Tom to trashing your business.

  “It was her, Jack. We have proof,” I said. “Well, at least some.”

  “Okay, I believe you. But I still can’t tell you why she was here. What I will do is make a record of this conversation we just had, and if anything happens again, we can talk about what the best course of action might be. Now, getting back to why you came to see me. Here are the partnership documents.” He passed each of us packets of legal documents and started explaining.

  Chapter 11

  No offense to Jack, but how can someone do that for a living?” Sophie said when we walked out of his office. “I almost fell asleep listening to him read over those papers, it was so boring,”

  “It might have been boring, but at least we are taken care of and doing things the right way,” I said. “I thought it was kind of exciting. You know, officially being a partnership and all.”

  “I agree with both of you,” Berklie said. “It was exciting and boring all in one. But necessary all the same. You guys want to grab some coffee and the head back to the shop?”

  “Sure,” I said. “We can…” I trailed off as we arrived at my car to find all the tires were flat.

  “Do you think you ran over some nails?” Sophie asked to break the tension.

  “A nail named Sylvia,” Berklie said. “Trixie, I’m so sorry she did this to your car.”

  “It’s not your fault, Berklie. Besides, we don’t know for sure it was her.”

  “Oh, please. Of course it was her. This has got to stop.”

  “Any ideas on how we’re going to get back to the shop?” Sophie asked.

  “I’ll call Craig to come fix my car, and I’ll run back in and see if we can borrow Jack’s car for now.”

  “Hey, maybe Craig is in cahoots with Sylvia. She sure is getting him a lot of business,” Sophie said. Berklie and I just looked at her. “C’mon, guys, lighten up. I’m kidding.”

  I got the keys to Jack’s car with a solemn promise to call him when we reached the shop. It was so cute that he was worried about me. I was trying not to think about the cost of new tires eating into my budget. When Craig arrived, he pointed out the tires had been cut. Even I thought that was pretty far to go for Sylvia. It took a lot of strength to cut through rubber.

  “What the hell?” I said for the second time in as many weeks as I unlocked the door to the shop and stepped in to find someone had once again been here and not with the intention of helping us clean and organize.

  “Not again,” Berklie said. “That bitch Sylvia. This is the last straw. I’m calling Tom and telling him he better have a word with her. This has gone too far.”

  “Uh, Berklie. I don’t think it was Sylvia this time.”

  “What are you saying?” Berklie asked. But then she shifted her gaze to where I was pointing.

  At Sylvia sprawled out on the floor. Clearly dead.

  “I don’t think she’ll be bothering us anymore,” said Sophie.

  I reached for my phone and dialed 911.

  “911, what’s your emergency?”

  “I’m calling to report a murder …”

  Books Aren’t Just for Reading

  A Trixie Pristine Novel

  By

  Laina Turner

  Copyright © 2012 Laina Turner

  License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enj
oyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Formatting by Anessa Books

  Chapter 1

  Nine-one-one. What’s your emergency?”

  “I’m calling to report a murder, at least I think it’s a murder. I don’t have a lot of experience with these things, but there is definitely a dead person here with a lot of blood, and she’s not breathing. You need to send the police to 1387 Main St. now! And hurry!” I hung up the phone, my limbs shaking.

  I was a librarian. I was boring. I wasn’t used to this drama and dead bodies—or body as was the case here. I looked at Berklie and Sophie. They were as shocked as I was. “What should we do now?” I whispered.

  “I don’t know. But why are you whispering?” Berklie whispered back.

  “I don’t know. Why did you whisper back?” I said, feeling tense and scared.

  “I don’t know? I’m not aware of the protocol around dead people.”

  “C’mon, guys, relax. She can’t hurt us,” said Sophie in her normal tone of voice, though I could tell she was nervous also.

  We both looked at her, eyes wide. I, for one, thought Sophie was being awfully calm about this whole thing just standing there in her blue sheath dress looking cool and collected like we hadn’t just stumbled upon a dead body in Read/Wine, our new bookstore/coffee bar/wine shop.