Ouna Bay Cozy Mystery Boxed Set (4-Book Bundle)

by Deany Ray

  “I thought that he was all set - with incoming money from Ouna Construction and that brand new RV. Did Cliff have any idea what had happened to him?”

  “Everything that Harry said was really kind of cryptic. That he was a bad person. That he wished he hadn’t done it.”

  “Whoa.” This was sounding ominous. “What was it he wished he hadn’t done?” I asked.

  “Well, that I just don’t know, hon. That’s the question of the day.”

  I paused to let it all sink in.

  Rosalie got up to get some coffee. “Oh! And by the way, I asked about Briana and if he’d seen her there. He knew her right away.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, she’s hard to miss.”

  “Says she comes in with different guys, all of them well dressed. Guys who don’t look like the others who come in there all the time.”

  So it wasn’t only Archer. A panic rose up in my chest, but I brushed away the feeling. What was I thinking, doubting Houston - even for a second?

  “And guess who else has been hanging at the Moonlite lately? A Mr. Arthur Klein!”

  That was odd, for sure. Arthur only worked for high-end clients. He was all about expensive wines and ingredients that were strictly organic and locally sourced. Whatever reason he had to go into the Moonlite, it had nothing to do with a cheap beer or a patty melt.

  I had a sudden thought. “Was he one of Briana’s guys?”

  “No. He’d come in and sit with Harry. And once they had an argument that got a little heated.”

  “Interesting,” I said. “Did Cliff know what it was that had them so riled up?”

  Rosalie’s eyebrow shot way up. “My theory is a drug deal, a drug deal that went bad.” Her voice took on a hushed tone. “Because in the back rooms of darkened bars at night…”

  I cupped my hands around my mouth. “Calling Rosalie! Back to reality!”

  She pouted. “It could so be a drug deal.” Then she got up to pour herself more coffee. “Man, I am so wiped.” She made her way back to the table and slowly sipped her drink.

  “Great work, Rosalie,” I said. This should get the police closer to a motive. Whatever Harry had done to make him feel like a “bad person” most likely was the thing that got the fellow killed. “Thanks in part to you,” I said, “the police might get this thing wrapped up pretty soon.”

  “Or you and I could do it.” She gave me a pleading look. “I thought we’d stop in at the Moonlite tonight, have a little drink.”

  No way was that happening.

  “I promised Houston that I wouldn’t,” I said to Rosalie. “Not unless he went. We’ve done our part; you did great. Let the police take it from here.”

  Rosalie looked thoughtful. “But those people at the Moonlite? They might not be the types to get chatty with the cops.”

  And she had a point. Unless they were being read their rights and posing for mug shots, that crowd probably steered clear of anyone who worked in law enforcement.

  “But they might say all kinds of things to two attractive girls with Budweisers in their hands.” Rosalie looked at me with a question in her eyes.

  I needed this case to be solved.

  “But we have to stick together,” I said. “And we can’t stay out real late.”

  Houston would kill me if he knew. And there was no way I could ask him to go with us again. His work was too exhausting.

  “Ooooh, I knew that you’d say yes!” Rosalie clapped her hands in glee.

  “I thought that you were tired.”

  “A detective must press on.”

  I was filled with a sense of dread – and hope. That night’s escapade might be just the very thing to at last unmask the killer. Or it might turn out to be the dumbest thing I’d ever done.

  Chapter Ten

  Stopping by my house to change, I called Houston to make sure that he was working late.

  “Should be home by nine,” he said.

  That would give us time. I’d told Rosalie we’d have one drink then leave.

  I was hanging up with Houston when she breezed into the front door in a long black coat, and wraparound sun glasses.

  “You do know that it’s June?” I asked. “And eighty-two degrees? And the sun has almost set. I think you can lose the shades.”

  She looked around like someone might be listening in. “I want to look like one of them. So they’ll confide in me.”

  “The drunkards at the Moonlite?”

  “The drug lords, the crime bosses. Whoever is in charge.”

  “You can lose the super spy look.” I tried hard not to laugh. “I think the way to blend in is to raid the dirty-laundry hamper.”

  “Eww!”

  “Just kidding,” I told her. But I had put on my oldest jeans along with the stained t-shirt I usually saved for work out in the garden.

  ***

  The Moonlite was louder and more stinky than I’d remembered from before. The DJ was playing “Honky Tonk Woman” at full blast.

  We elbowed our way to the bar and ordered two light beers. I noticed that everybody was stealing looks at Rosalie.

  A middle aged man with a graying beard shouted in my ear. “Never seen you here before. Hey! My name is Earl.”

  And that’s when it hit me: we didn’t have a plan. I couldn’t just come right out and ask if he knew what might be up with Harry. I had to have a reason to even bring it up.

  I made up something on the spot. “My friend Harry talked about the Moonlite, so I thought I’d check it out,” I said, raising my voice above the music. “Did you know him? Harry Willis? I can’t believe he’s gone!”

  Earl kicked at some sawdust on the floor. “He was a good one, Harry. Wish I could buy him one more round. I was hoping he’d be happy once he left this town.” He tipped his beer up and took the longest swallow that I’d ever seen. “Guess you know the story. About Louise and all.” He gave me a mournful look.

  “Oh yes. That was quite a story. About Harry and…Louise.” Louise?

  “He’d have worked a few years longer,” the man confided in my ear. “But too many memories at the department store. I think he saw Louise in every corner of the place.”

  Just then I saw a familiar pair of long, toned legs strutting their way through the crowd. Briana was yelling in a woman’s ear as she headed toward the bar. She wore a silky yellow dress that was low-cut and skin-tight. I moved closer in an attempt to eavesdrop. But I caught just one word from her lipsticked mouth. And that word was Houston.

  I dared to hope she was referring to the city – and that she had a ticket to go there really soon. Fat chance, I told myself. I moved closer still.

  “He has the thickest, softest blond hair,” I heard her tell her friend. “We’ve been working late a lot. And we’ve both enjoyed the work. At least that’s what we call it.” She winked and tossed her hair over one shoulder.

  I breathed in, I breathed out. It really was okay. There wasn’t any reason to believe a word she said. Just then a figure in a black coat sailed into Briana, spilling beer all down her dress.

  “You idiot!” Briana screamed.

  Rosalie stood back and assessed the situation. “Shit happens,” she said. And then she shrugged as if it were no big deal.

  “This dress is an Armani!” Briana yelled as Rosalie very stealthily disappeared into the crowd.

  ***

  “That was the most fabulous thing I think you’ve ever done,” I said to Rosalie as I drove us to my house.

  “That beer tasted bad. I was glad to put it to good use.” She smiled.

  “Good thing she didn’t recognized you,” I said.

  After I filled her in on what Briana said, she looked at me, concerned. “You’re not worried about it, are you, hon?”

  “Nah. She’s just running her stupid mouth.”

  “And Houston is a smart guy. He has way better taste than that. Hey, did you find out any intel?”

  I told her the story of Louise, and we made plans to meet at
Townsend’s Department Store the next day after work. A little investigative shopping was in order.

  Houston got home not long after Rosalie sped off. He looked down at my clothes. “Slumming it today?”

  I kissed him hello. “Just being comfortable. Did your day go okay?”

  He sighed. “Okay, I guess. Just way too long. Hey, was that Rosalie I saw driving down our street?”

  “Yeah, she needed to…borrow some shoes.” I ran my fingers through his blond hair. Even with dark circles underneath his eyes, my man was looking fine. His hair felt soft and silky, and…it had something caught up in it. I pulled my hand away and looked down at a piece of blue confetti.

  “How did that get there?” I tried to make my voice sound much calmer than I felt.

  “Hmm,” he said, seemingly unfazed. “I have no idea. Every now and then these days, I find confetti in the office. Isn’t that the weirdest thing? Any other time, I’d ask. But these days I’m just too tired.

  Rosalie had been upset that we’d left the Moonlite before it was time for confetti to rain down on us. It had been almost Confetti Hour when I made her leave. I had to beat Houston home.

  Breathe in, I told myself. Then, nice and slow, breath out. With Briana – and even Archer – in and out of the bar, there was an easy explanation for Houston to come home with confetti in his hair.

  The next day Dwight stopped in for a coffee and a cupcake.

  While Rosalie fed him tiny bites, I headed over with the coffee pot and refilled his mug for free. “Anything new at work?” I asked in a low voice.

  “We checked out the clock repairman. He’d engraved a watch for Harry, a retirement gift from Ruth. But the chief thinks that means nothing.” He dumped some sugar in the coffee.

  “And how about the kid?” asked Rosalie. “The one who bought the cupcake on the same day as the party?”

  “He’s been in trouble here and there.” Dwight stretched his long legs out as he finished up his snack. “Shoplifting, vandalism. But nothing on the level of doing a poor fella in.”

  “Has anyone ever mentioned someone named Louise?” Rosalie sat down across from Dwight. Business had slowed down for the afternoon.

  “Louise? No. That’s a new one. Why?”

  I signaled for her to be careful. Dwight couldn’t know about our secret foray to the Moonlite. He and Houston liked to talk.

  “Just a thought,” she told him. “Louise is such a pretty name.”

  ***

  The next day Rosalie and I browsed among the scarves at Townsend’s Department Store. I held out a silky blue one.

  “That one’s nice.” An elderly saleswoman approached the two of us and reached out to touch the scarf.

  “I think so too,” I said. “One of my customers was telling me how much she liked your scarves. She said she had a friend who used to work at Townsend’s. Did you know a Louise?”

  “Oh, my heavens, yes. We all loved Louise! Of course, most people are too young to remember her these days.” She sighed. “So I guess you know the story. About how our sweet Louise just up and disappeared?”

  “Yes.” Rosalie chimed in to play along.

  “She wasn’t the type to up and go without letting someone know. Of course, she had good reason to want to be away. She was in love, you see. And he was married; it was wrong. They couldn’t be together.” The older woman stared into the blues swirls on the scarf. “But, forgive me for saying it, they had the kind of love that’s just the most romantic thing. It just broke her heart when he ended it. And of course, I’m sure that it broke his heart as well. But that was our Harry, wasn’t it? He always did the right thing.”

  I swallowed hard. “Yes. Harry.”

  After she’d wrapped up the scarf, we rushed outside to process the news that we’d just heard.

  “A romance for the ages?” I asked Rosalie. “And with Harry Willis? I just can’t imagine.”

  “This Louise, where did she go? What happened to Louise? And how does this fit in with the murder?”

  “I wonder if Ruth ever knew?” I asked.

  “Or if Louise ever got back in touch with Harry? Maybe she heard about his plans to travel the country with his wife. That would have hurt, I bet. Unless she’d found someone else.”

  “We need to talk to Ruth.” I said. “But there’s just no way. In her mind, I’m some evil baker. Or better yet, we should search her house. She wouldn’t tell us anything anyway. But maybe we can find something in her house.”

  “Maybe we could do that.”

  “How? We can’t just go to her house and ask her politely to leave while we search it. She wouldn’t even talk to me. And to you either. She probably knows where you work.” She used to come in all the time for coffee.

  “But what if I went as someone else?” She thought. “Like, perhaps, a maid.”

  “You can’t just show up with a mop and broom. That’s not how a cleaning service works. They don’t just appear at random and start vacuuming the floor. Someone has to hire them.”

  “And so someone will.” Rosalie put on a look of deep concern. “Ruth has gone through so much lately. So one of her friends – who wishes, of course, to remain strictly anonymous – will donate a cleaning session with Ouna Quick Clean Maids. Our motto? Dirt be Gone!”

  Sometimes I had to admit that there was just the tiniest bit of brilliance in her madness.

  “I think that will work,” I said. “But I’ve seen your kitchen and your bedroom. Do you even know how to use a mop? Do you know what a dust cloth is?”

  She waved my concerns away. “Clear your calendar for Friday; see if Maia can handle the afternoon alone. Because my plan involves you too.”

  Chapter Eleven

  The next morning we worked a busy shift at the café, then I rushed home to grab some lunch and some supplies for cleaning. I opened my front door when I heard Rosalie drive up and toot her horn. She waved from the convertible, looking happy in a hot pink dress with a chunky silver necklace.

  “Are you kidding me?” I asked.

  “What?” She looked down at her outfit, brand new from Trudy’s Sun and Fun. “I thought this was cute.”

  “People don’t want a maid who’s cute,” I said, exasperated. “They want a maid who cleans.” I opened her car door. “Come on. Let’s look in my closet for something you can wear. You need clothes that you can move in. So you can get down on the floor and scrub.” Sometimes she surprised me still. After all these years.

  “Get down on the floor?” she cried. “But what if it’s all dirty?”

  “If it’s dirty, then you clean it. After all, you are the maid.”

  “Oh.” She looked dejected. Her life as an undercover spy was losing all its glamour.

  “Too late to change your mind,” I said. “But change your shoes at least.”

  While she still went to work that day looking like the world’s most stylish maid, I had one small victory: I got her to swap her high heels for some tennis shoes. In matching pink, of course.

  Soon afterwards, we arrived at the brick ranch home where Ruth now lived alone. While Rosalie rang the doorbell, I slouched down in the front seat until the coast was clear. And just in case the widow happened to glance out at the car, I’d pulled an old ball cap down over my eyes.

  Ruth answered in her housecoat, running a nervous hand through her tangle of gray hair. She looked thinner than before. She frowned warily at Rosalie, a question in her eye.

  My best friend cheerfully announced herself. “Gabby Le Roux! From Dirt Be Gone! Ruth Willis, I presume?”

  “Yes?” Ruth looked annoyed and also somewhat sleepy, like we had woken her from a nap.

  “Surprise, surprise, surprise!” Rosalie called out in her most cheerful voice.

  Ruth looked at her, confused.

  Then Rosalie turned serious. “I was sent by several friends who are, shall we say, concerned. You have just been through so much! And so they have hired me to come in and work some magic and make your ho
use sparkly clean.”

  “Oh! Well. That is so very kind.” Ruth lifted a hand over her heart. Then she looked doubtfully toward her driveway where I sunk down a little lower in the car. It did appear to be a quite unlikely scene: a maid in a hot pink dress who’d arrived in a convertible with a mop and broom and panting dog spilling out the open top. Maia had Gerry for a while and now he was back with us.

  “Gerry! Down!” I whispered to the beagle who was eager to jump out and explore. If I had to get out and chase him, I would surely blow my cover.

  Ruth ran both hands through her hair. “Oh, do come in, please, Miss Le Roux. Let me pick up a bit.”

  “No need!” said Rosalie. “I do all the work. But what you should do instead is run back to your closet and pick out your cutest clothes. Because – ta da! – you get a spa day! Also from your friends.” With that, she presented a certificate for a manicure along with a haircut and color. That should leave us with enough time, although it had cost us plenty.

  When Ruth went back to change, Rosalie appeared beside the car and gave me a thumbs up. Then she unloaded the dog and the supplies.

  Within fifteen minutes, Ruth was backing out in her old Chevrolet. I waited ten minutes until I unfolded myself at last from the tiny car. Because what if Ruth came back to get something she’d forgotten – her purse, her phone, some pills? Then I made my way inside the house.

  “Oh my gosh,” I called out. “She could use eight maids instead of two.” It looked like the new widow hadn’t had the heart to clean since her husband’s unfortunate demise. Dishes were piled up in the sink next to half-full bags of Oreos and several empty bottles that had once held chardonnay. Old newspapers and magazines were stacked up in the corner and spilled off the coffee table. And the house had a distinctive odor, like the person who lived inside it hadn’t bathed in weeks.

  I picked up a bottle of pills that had been prescribed for nerves. My heart went out to Ruth, who was supposed to be on her way by now to see the most beautiful parts of the country from the comfort of her RV. With her husband.