Deadly Holiday (Georgia Rae Winston Mysteries Book 2)

by Marissa Shrock

  “Yep. What’s that noise?”

  “Sorry. Gus is enjoying his supper.” I walked into the kitchen to escape the chomping.

  “You need to teach that dog some manners. Just sayin’.”

  I laughed. “I know. He eats every meal like it’s his last. What’d you find?”

  “Tristan Phillips owns Final Rejuvenation, LLC.”

  No surprise there. “Does he have any partners?”

  “Nope. But I did a little more digging, and there have been three more decent properties that sold way below market value in the last year or so.”

  “Let me guess. Final Rejuvenation bought them all?”

  “You got it.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  “So, babe. Would you ever live in a tiny house?” Preston asked on Friday morning as he hopped into my truck.

  I double checked for no scar—just in case he and his brother had decided to mess with me. Definitely Preston.

  “Nope. I have too many clothes—and shoes.” I slipped my sunglasses on and entered the address of the tiny house compound into the navigation system.

  When Austin had finally texted the address the night before, I’d asked both of my stepbrothers to tag along while I drove by and checked it out, but Austin had a closing. Though I would’ve preferred taking one of my friends, they were all working jobs with no flexibility, and going alone didn’t seem too bright.

  Especially when Cal didn’t know about this unsanctioned look-see.

  “Would you ever go tiny?” I turned out of my driveway.

  “No.” He snorted. “One of my life goals is to own a house bigger than Dad’s. Plus, I want a huge outdoor entertaining area. You know—pool, putting green, fire pit, grill.” He smirked. “I’ll throw some awesome parties with lots of women. Austy and I have a competition going to see who can get his dream house first. I’m definitely going to win. I outsold him last year by a couple hundred thousand.”

  I fought back a gag. “It’s good to have goals.” I turned up my satellite radio—which was set to the show tunes channel—and “Anything You Can Do” blasted through the speakers.

  No way. “This should be Austin’s and your theme song.” I sang along.

  “Totally.” He joined in—with a rather nice baritone.

  Even though we had to take several winding, tree-lined roads, it didn’t take us more than a few Broadway classics to find the compound.

  “That’s it.” Preston pointed at a gate blocking a gravel drive and a barbed-wire fence.

  I slowed the truck and turned down the radio.

  “Your destination is on the right,” the navigation system said.

  “I can’t see anything.” Preston leaned forward.

  I drove by slowly, trying to catch a glimpse of what was down the lane, but there was a bend about a hundred yards down. Even though the trees were bare, they were thick enough to block our view into the woods.

  I passed the driveway, parked on the side of the road, and flopped back against the headrest. “Not what I was hoping to find.”

  “We could go for a hike,” Preston said.

  I wound a strand of hair around my finger. “It’s tempting, but no. Cal’s starting to trust me, so I’m not going to betray him like that. It’s bad enough that I drove out here without him knowing.”

  “I get it.” He smoothed his dress pants. “I’m not exactly dressed for an adventure in the woods.” He looked at his phone. “Plus, I’ve got to be back at the office in a half hour.”

  “We tried.” I put my truck in drive and started to pull onto the road.

  “Hold on, babe. See where that car behind us is going.”

  I glanced in the rearview mirror at the approaching vehicle. It passed the driveway and stopped beside us. The passenger’s side window slid down, so I opened mine.

  A gaunt, middle-aged woman, who clearly loved lip fillers to the point of channeling a platypus, leaned over. “Can I help you folks?”

  “Do you live here?” I hitched my thumb toward the gate.

  “Yes.” She tightened the red scarf around her neck.

  “Cool.” I adopted a perky-casual tone. “One of our friends heard there were a bunch of tiny houses out here. My boyfriend and I totally love all those shows on TV about living tiny, and we thought we’d come see in case we ever decide to downsize.” I glanced at Preston. “Right, babe?”

  Preston coughed. “Right.”

  Platypus Lips nodded. “It’s definitely a simpler way of life. I’m sorry, but I can’t invite you in. My neighbors are fierce about their privacy, so we don’t give tours.”

  “Oh, rats.” Who was I right now? “Tell me this, if you don’t mind. Do you ever regret going tiny? I’m afraid I’d be sorry if I got rid of my regular-sized house. I totally like to shop.” I giggled.

  At least the shopping part wasn’t a lie.

  She glanced toward the gate. “It takes some adjusting, but it’s worth it. I don’t miss being overwhelmed with stuff.” Her tone seemed forced—almost as if she were trying to convince herself. “I’m sure you could do it.”

  “That’s encouraging. I’m Georgia, by the way. This is Preston—my boo.” I patted his knee and winked.

  The color drained from his face.

  “Nice to meet you both.” She looked at the gate again. “I have groceries I need to put in my refrigerator.”

  “Of course. We’ll be on our way. Thanks for your time.”

  She closed the window, backed up her car, and waited at the gate.

  It wasn’t until we drove down the road that she ventured inside.

  “Uh, Georgia?” Preston ran his thumb over his phone.

  “Yes.” My boo.

  “If I promise to stop calling you babe, will you swear to never again refer to me as your boo?”

  Inside my head, I performed a fully choreographed happy dance, but I managed to keep a straight face. “Deal.”

  It was a Wildcat Springs Community Church tradition to have carry-in dinners prior to opening night performances, but given Zach’s death from poisoning, Ruby and I had decided to modify that ritual. Instead, we’d taken up a collection and hired a caterer to provide the meal.

  Pre-show nerves stole my appetite, so after dipping a bit of potato soup and picking up a chocolate chip cookie, I searched for a seat in the café. My gaze fell on Mona, who was sitting alone.

  Perfect. I walked over—carefully because I didn’t need to slop soup down the front of my tunic. “Mind if I join you?”

  “Not at all.” She patted the seat beside her, and we ate our supper for a few minutes. “How’s the case coming?”

  “Slower than I’d like.” I leaned closer. “I visited your future-brother-in-law yesterday.”

  Mona’s forehead creased. “Be careful. From what Jim’s told me, Tristan’s running a cult.”

  “Yet Jim lets him supervise volunteers at the mission?” I took the last bite of soup.

  Mona pressed her lips together. “Jim hoped that by keeping Tristan around, he’d be able to influence him, but he had to let Tristan go today because he was recruiting. They had an awful fight, and Tristan told Jim he could forget about him being best man at our wedding. I doubt they’ll ever speak to each other again.”

  “I’m sorry.” I broke off a piece of cookie. This information sure made Jim appear less guilty. It made Mona look better as well.

  “We are too.” She shook her head. “Tristan isn’t a bad guy. He’s had a rough life, and he’s just looking for happiness. He wants to help others—however misguided his beliefs may be to us Christians.”

  “Why has his life been rough?”

  “His only son got in over his head gambling, and when he couldn’t pay his debt, he was beaten so badly he died. Not long after that, Tristan and his wife divorced.”

  “That’s awful.”

  “I know. Jim told me the whole story a few days ago. How it inspired Tristan to open a place to help people overcome gambling addictions—” />
  “Hold the phone. Anchor Recovery Center?”

  Understanding dawned in her expression. “Yeah, but he sold it about two years ago to start True Mooring. No… Do you think…?” She squeezed the bridge of her nose. “What kind of family am I marrying into?” she murmured.

  “Don’t panic.” I rested my hand on her arm. “Cal will get to the bottom of everything—and I intend to help find the truth.”

  She raised her head, but her lips trembled. “Thank you.”

  I stood and tossed my napkin in my empty bowl. “I’m sorry to run, but I’d better get to work.” I started to walk away but stopped and looked back. “Leah’s going to do great tonight.”

  “Thanks. I’m one nervous mama. But I shouldn’t be. She’s wanted to have a starring role in a play ever since she was eight and saw Carsyn play the lead in Christmas in Paradise.”

  I tilted my head as I remembered Carsyn’s performance. “I’d forgotten what a good actress Carsyn is.”

  “Yeah. It’s a real shame she isn’t using her talent.”

  “Oh, honey, I’m so proud!” Mom choked me in a bear hug after the opening performance of A Time Traveler’s Christmas had gone off without a hitch. Not a single problem—even Rob the angel had brilliantly announced the birth of our Savior—in modern English.

  “Thanks.” The crowd had begun to thin out of the auditorium, and I’d already greeted my friends and met Wanda’s son and daughter-in-law. The people who remained stood in clusters around the performers.

  “Good work.” Dan gave me a high five.

  Mom rummaged through her purse for her phone and snapped a picture of me before I could protest. “Let’s come back tomorrow and bring friends.” She gripped Dan’s arm. “Will that be all right? The Sylvans would love this show.” She turned to me. “They’re our new neighbors. Wonderful couple.”

  “No problem, dear.” Dan truly didn’t seem to mind.

  “There are still some seats in the center section, so I’ll reserve them for you.”

  “Thanks, sweetie.” Mom moved closer and looped her arm through mine. “Let’s talk about Christmas.”

  Oh yay.

  “I heard back from Stella today, and Christmas Day works fine for her and Dakota. They’re going to be with her side on Christmas Eve.” She eyed me. “Are you planning to bring Cal?”

  “Um. Well, I don’t know. Probably not.”

  Her forehead creased, and she let go of my arm. “He’s welcome. Just like he was at Thanksgiving.”

  “I know.” A dribble of sweat trailed down my back. “We haven’t talked about it.”

  “Don’t you think you should?”

  I wrapped my arms around my waist. “We’ll get to it.” I wasn’t sure I wanted to subject him to a Winston-Farthing Christmas, though he’d already met my stepbrothers, so how much worse could it be?

  I pictured Preston and Austin backing Cal into a corner and playing good cop, bad cop. Yeah. It could get worse all right.

  “Jill, ease up. Georgia and Cal will figure it out.” Dan issued a smile that I was certain he meant to be reassuring, but, in my present state of mind, felt patronizing.

  Mom opened her mouth and then snapped it shut. “No problem. Just let me know so I can set an extra place.”

  “I will.” She prided herself on having a beautiful tablescape at every holiday, and having the proper number of places was crucial to her design. Why hadn’t I inherited that talent?

  She hugged me again. “See you tomorrow.”

  I needed to warn Cal—ASAP.

  Chapter Twenty

  Saturday afternoon, clad in a Christmas sweater with an obnoxious, light-up tree emblazoned on the front, I hefted two shopping bags onto Brandi’s dining room table while her Yorkie, Gigi, scuttled around my feet. Brandi had invited me over for our first annual Wrappingpalooza.

  I’d done most of my shopping online, and a box of my purchases had arrived the day before, though I didn’t have that much to wrap.

  Plus, I still didn’t have Cal’s present. “Ashley’s still coming, right?”

  “Yep. And I have another reason I wanted us to hang out.” She set a plastic tub of ribbons and bows on the table.

  “Getting Ashley to talk?” My eyes fell on the plate of Christmas cookies resting on the kitchen counter, so I grabbed an elf cookie and bit off the head.

  She touched a finger to her temple. “You’re a mind reader.”

  “No. I’m over her attitude. Whatever she’s dealing with needs to get out in the open, so we can help.”

  The front door opened. “Hey, y’all. I brought plenty of paper, ribbons, and bows.” Ashley lugged a plastic container full of wrapping supplies. “The show was awesome last night, by the way.”

  “Thanks,” Brandi and I said in unison.

  She set the container down and clapped her hands. “Let’s do this.”

  An hour later, I’d finished my own gifts and had started on Brandi’s, which made me realize she had a third motive for Wrappingpalooza. She needed help with the twenty packages for her nieces and nephews.

  I’d been shooting Brandi looks at intervals during the last five minutes or so because it was time to begin Operation Make Ashley Talk, or we were going to run out of time before we had to report to church.

  Apparently, Brandi expected me to start.

  “So, Ash. You seem to be in better spirits this afternoon.” I taped some snowmen-printed paper around a Barbie box.

  “I am.” She attached some red ribbon and eyed the package before selecting a bow.

  “Cool.” I folded the ends of the paper around the box, caught Brandi’s evil eye, and shrugged. If she could do better, then she should’ve spoken up.

  “We’re willing to listen.” Brandi put a finished package on her stack. “If there’s anything you need to talk about.”

  “Good grief.” Ashley sighed and dropped a roll of paper into the container. “I should’ve told y’all when I moved here, but it never came up, and after a while, it was too weird to talk about.” She plopped a LEGO box down on a piece of paper.

  What was it? My mind spun all sorts of possibilities. “Now we’re both thinking the worst.”

  Ashley looked back and forth between Brandi and me. “Right before I moved here, I was engaged.”

  Brandi and I exchanged glances.

  “I’m sorry.” Brandi grasped her hand.

  “Who broke it off?” I blurted.

  Brandi shot me her teacher look.

  I’d never win any points for sensitivity, but there was something to be said for determining context. “I’m sorry.”

  “I know, Georgia Rae.” Ashley sighed. “Jack called it off—on our wedding day—because he’d met someone else.” She yanked a piece of tape from the dispenser. “When I was home for Thanksgiving, I ran into Jack and his wife…and their baby boy.”

  My stomach flopped. “Ouch.”

  Ashley swallowed. “Yeah. I didn’t want it to affect me, but it did. The Sunday I backed out of hosting small group was the anniversary of our engagement. Seeing them so happy after Jack cheated on me… It’s not fair.” She snipped a piece of ribbon. “I’ve never dated anyone seriously—since Jack. A dinner and movie with a guy here and there—and that’s it.” She pawed through the bow container and selected a burgundy one that she slapped on the box. “I haven’t acted like it, but I’m having trouble trusting again.”

  All this time she’d pretended to be more open to relationships than Brandi and me when she’d been faking it. Yet how could I be mad? I wasn’t the type who enjoyed spilling my deepest, darkest secrets.

  “That makes sense,” Brandi said. “I’ll pray that when the time’s right, you’ll meet a guy who’s worth trusting.”

  “Same here.”

  “Thank you.” Ashley nodded.

  “Thanks for telling us,” Brandi said.

  “Yeah. I know that wasn’t easy.” I picked up a walkie-talkie set for one of Brandi’s nephews and peeled off the s
ticky note she’d used to label it.

  We wrapped for a while with only the sounds of ripping tape and scissors slicing paper punctuating the silence.

  “Ash, when you’re ready, what about dating J.T.? He’s a pretty great guy.” I grinned. “Don’t tell him I said that.” In my head, I started singing “Matchmaker” from Fiddler on the Roof.

  “I know he is.” Ashley met my eyes. “I wouldn’t rule him out, but he only thinks of me as a friend—which is fine. I don’t want to make things awkward at small group.”

  “I get it.” I’d talk to J.T. soon and let him know there was hope—if he was willing to be patient.

  Ashley finished the final present in her pile and put it aside. “How’s the murder investigation coming?” She took an unwrapped gift from Brandi’s stack.

  “My current theory is that Tristan Phillips might be guilty of cheating people out of money—and real estate.” I gave them a summary of my visit to True Mooring Life Center with Cal and my visit with Platypus Lips at the tiny house compound. “Olivia visited True Mooring with Carsyn. I think she suspected what Tristan was up to, so he used Carsyn to get the poisoned tea leaves to Olivia. Except, instead of making the tea, she passed it onto Zach.”

  “Creepy,” Brandi said. “You really think Carsyn’s in on it?”

  “I’m not sure. It’s possible Tristan poisoned the tea without Carsyn knowing.” I ran my hand over the table to clear off scraps of wrapping paper. “Plus, there’s an accomplice who may’ve caused Olivia to run off the road into the Sloans’ pond. Since they didn’t find her body, I wonder if she escaped but the accomplice caught her and finished her off.” I tossed the paper bits in the trash.

  Ashley tapped her nails against the counter.

  “What’re you thinking, Ash?” Brandi asked.

  “I know someone from work who might be able to help.” Ashley looked at me. “What time do you have to be at church?”

  I glanced at the clock on Brandi’s wall. “I need to leave in about a half hour.”

  She took her phone out of her pocket and began texting. “Let’s see if he’s available to video chat.”