The Uninvited Corpse

by Debra Sennefelder

  “She might hear you. Besides, she can’t be all that bad.”

  Claire glanced over her shoulder. “See for yourself.” She sidestepped to allow her sister full access to the real estate agent.

  Peaches strode into the kitchen with purpose and paused for a nanosecond to look around. Either she was impressed with Audrey’s decorating or she was calculating the market value of the space. Hope guessed it was the latter.

  “Is there something you need?” Hope stepped forward, away from her sister.

  The rest of the guests weren’t going out of their way to make Peaches feel welcome. So she decided she would attempt to do so. Peaches frowned then glanced to the cup she held. That was when Hope saw a brownish stain on her sweater. She recognized it immediately. A coffee stain.

  “Someone bumped into me and I spilled my coffee.” Peaches discarded the cup with a thump on the counter.

  “What a shame,” Claire said.

  Hearing a faint note of pleasure in her sister’s voice, Hope glanced at her sister. Claire struggled not to smile.

  “I can help.” Hope dashed across the kitchen to the table where her purse was and whipped out a spot-removal stick.

  “No, you don’t need to go to any trouble,” Peaches said.

  As Hope turned to head back to Peaches, her sister cozied up to her and quietly said, “Seriously, you carry around a stain-removal stick? I’m still baffled we share the same DNA.”

  Hope ignored Claire. “It’s no trouble.” Snatching a towel off the counter, she was prepared to treat the stain before it fully set into the sweater. “First, we need to blot away any excess.” She pressed the towel onto the sweater for a few moments.

  “You seem to know about this kind of stuff,” Peaches said warily.

  “You should see her with a clothing steamer,” Claire said.

  Hope shot her sister a warning look. “Okay, it looks like we got most of the excess off your sweater, which, by the way, is very pretty.”

  “Thank you.” Peaches’ tone was cool and distant.

  Hope tossed the towel back on the counter and then picked up the stain-remover stick and pulled off the cap. “I’m going to rub this onto the stain.”

  “And this will get the stain out?” Peaches asked.

  Hope pressed the tip onto the stain several times to release the stain remover solution. “It’s an on-the-go solution which should keep the stain from setting in. You’ll need to treat it at home before putting it in the laundry. I can text you the instructions.” She gently rubbed the tip across the stain.

  “I think it’s going to be a lot easier just to toss the sweater.” Peaches pulled back from Hope and her stain-remover stick.

  “Don’t be silly, I’m sure the stain will come right out and it’ll be as good as new.”

  Peaches raised her hands, clearly indicating for Hope to stop. “I don’t have time to remove stains with a little stick or anything else. I have a life.” She brushed past Hope and walked out of the kitchen, all the while shaking her head.

  Claire stepped forward. “I warned you about her.”

  Hope’s brows furrowed in confusion. “Why wouldn’t she want to remove a stain?” After returning the stick to its pouch, Hope set it in her organized bag.

  Claire rolled her eyes. “Would you forget about the sweater? We have a bigger problem.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like the fact she’s here.” Claire pointed her index finger in the direction of the hallway, where Peaches had disappeared into. “What is she up to?”

  “The event is almost over so I don’t think we have to worry. Nothing has happened and I’m sure nothing will,” Hope said with confidence.

  Vanessa popped into the kitchen. “We’re ready to start the book signing.” She disappeared just as fast as she’d appeared.

  “Let’s go.” Hope walked out of the kitchen with her sister. In the hall, Meg stood at the coat closet, and Hope motioned to Claire to go ahead without her. But before she could reach Meg, Jane Merrifield intercepted her.

  “Dear,” the elderly woman said as she rested a hand on Hope’s forearm.

  Hope paused and smiled at the white-haired woman who wore a floral dress and her bright pink signature lipstick.

  “Are you enjoying yourself, Jane?”

  “Oh, yes, immensely. Do you have any idea why Miss McCoy came today? She’s causing quite a stir.”

  Without question, the focus of the event had been shifted from Audrey and her garden to Peaches. That was probably the reason Peaches had shown up. She wanted to ruin Audrey’s big day. But why? They were on opposite sides of a hot-button topic, but showing up at Audrey’s home during a private event seemed to be taking their disagreement a little too far. Peaches had definitely crossed a line.

  “I’m sure she’ll be leaving soon,” Hope said.

  Jane leaned closer and in a quieter voice she said, “Sounds like a classic mystery, starting off with an uninvited guest. There’s a story here, dear.”

  Chapter Three

  Hope shook her head. “I’m sure there isn’t a story here today.”

  Jane’s mind always seemed to be concocting murders, which left Hope wondering why the older woman stopped writing murder mysteries. It had been over forty years since Jane wrote her last book, but her imagination still seemed very fertile. Perhaps that was the reason Jane was the perfect organizer for the library’s mystery book group. A club Hope belonged to on and off since high school.

  Vanessa popped out of the dining room. Her eyes narrowed and a deep line creased between her brows.

  “Is there a problem?” Vanessa ran a tight ship and she detested veering off schedule.

  “You better go in there. I’ll be right behind you.” Hope sent Jane on her way and turned her attention back to Meg. “You’re leaving?”

  Meg yanked her coat off a hanger then shut the door a little louder than she probably wanted to. “I have to leave.” She jammed her arms into the coat sleeves.

  “Are you okay?”

  Meg zipped up her coat. “I’ve stayed long enough with that woman here.”

  “I know it’s easy to blame Peaches for the development defeat.”

  “If you only knew.” Meg stopped talking and took a breath. “I have to go.”

  Hope closed the door behind Meg and tried to make sense out of the day, which was more of a circus than Morning Pete’s show. Guests showing up uninvited, guests storming out, and guests demanding other guests not be in attendance. Sally was right, the inmates were running the asylum.

  Hope made a quick mental note to never host an event that revolved around the Jefferson Garden Club.

  “Hope!” Vanessa called out from the dining room. “We’re starting.”

  Hope hurried into the dining room to join everyone and get her copy of Audrey’s brand-spanking-new gardening book, the third in a planned five-book series about the seasons of gardening. Audrey beamed happiness and pride as she signed each book with a personal note. She had worked hard over the years to build her brand, which started when she was in high school. She was the youngest member of the garden club and regularly published in their newsletter. By the time she graduated college, she had a gardening column for a local newspaper and was writing for magazines. Within a few years, she got her first book deal and then the Audrey Bloom brand took off with regular appearances on daytime television providing gardening advice.

  Hope was next up for her book. “How are you holding up?”

  “Okay, I think. It’s just been so hectic. Everyone has been so wonderful today. I’m truly blessed.” Audrey finished writing her note in Hope’s book.

  “I’m sorry, I have to ask. Did you invite Peaches?” Hope’s curiosity was killing her. She had to know. Taking the book from Audrey, she opened the cover and read the inscription.

  Hope, you’re one of my dearest friends and I am forever grateful to have you in my life.

  She choked with emotion. She closed the book and blinked a
few times to hold back the tears.

  “Right back at you,” Hope said with a big smile.

  “No, I didn’t invite Peaches. I have no idea why she showed up, but I didn’t want to cause a scene by throwing her out. That would be rude. But I will have a word with her later.”

  “Of course you will.” It was time to shift the focus from Peaches back to the reason everyone was at Audrey’s house. “I can’t wait to read this.” Hope held the book close to her chest. “I need so much help with my gardens. I don’t know where to start.”

  “Let me know if I can help.”

  Hope nodded then stepped away so Sally could get her copy of the book. She moved over to a window and paused to flip through the book. Page after page, there were color photographs and advice on creating a lush, plentiful garden. While inspiration practically jumped off the page, it took hours of dedication and hard work to maintain a garden like Audrey’s. Hours Hope didn’t have to spare.

  “Isn’t it a beautiful book?”

  Hope looked up. Calista Davenport, Audrey’s book editor, stood in front of her holding a copy of Seasons in the Garden.

  “Yes, it is. You and Audrey did a great job.”

  “We did,” Calista said.

  “It’s your modesty I admire most about you.” Hope closed her book and gave Calista a hug. Hope had met Calista years ago at some function in New York and, while they weren’t friends, they remained friendly acquaintances. When Audrey was looking for a new publisher, it was Calista who signed her and edited the seasonal gardening books.

  “How’s it feel to be back up in the woods?” Calista set her book on the sideboard.

  The ultimate urban girl, Calista had traded in her uniform of black leggings, black tunic, and a black leather jacket for dark green skinny jeans topped with a caramel-colored turtleneck and tweed jacket. Her black hair was cut in a severe bob that accentuated her large blue eyes and full lips.

  “It feels good. You should try it.”

  “No thanks. I’ll stay in the city. To me, Brooklyn is the suburbs, and that’s as far I think I’ll ever move. But I have to admit, you and Audrey live in a great town. It’s so . . . cozy . . . quaint.” Calista seemed to struggle to find a non-offensive description of Jefferson.

  “You make us sound like a greeting card.” Hope looked around the room, and it was filled with people she’d known for years, with a few exceptions. Maybe Jefferson was like a greeting card. Was that a bad thing?

  Calista shrugged. “I guess we all can’t live in the city. It’s kind of like a calling. Either you have it or you don’t.”

  Hope considered for a moment. As a teenager, all she’d wanted was to live in the city. To have an apartment in a tall building and ride the subway and have a hamburger at any time of the day. Silly teenage dreams. The apartment she got in a tall building came with staff that required fat holiday bonuses to ensure her packages were accepted, the subway was dirty, and hamburgers in the middle of night added ten pounds to her lean frame.

  “Audrey is one of my best authors. She’s driven and she knows exactly what she wants and she gets it. What about you? Was walking away from the magazine what you really wanted?”

  Hope’s answer was on the tip of her tongue. It was well-rehearsed because she’d been asked that question a bazillion times by everybody in the world. Okay, maybe not the world, but a lot of people. She couldn’t very well tell them the truth that she was scared out of her mind when she resigned from her position or that, while there was a brief moment she wanted to return to the magazine, they wouldn’t hire her back. No, staying on message was the way to go. But there was always that nagging question of what her life would have been like if she’d stayed in Jefferson like Audrey did. But since her life wasn’t a two-hour made-for-television dramatic movie, she wouldn’t be transported back in time to see how another life choice would have turned out.

  “No regrets,” Hope said simply.

  Calista held Hope’s gaze for a moment then nodded, seemingly approving of Hope’s life choice.

  “There you are.” Audrey swooped in and linked arms with Calista. “I must steal you away for a moment.”

  Hope stepped aside and let the two women pass her and then disappear into the adjoining living room. She then caught a glimpse of Vanessa waving to her, and she knew it was time to stop thinking about the what-ifs. Vanessa gestured to the patio door, where Hope saw a group gathered outside. Time to rejoin the festivities.

  Hope helped herself to another cup of punch and mingled with the other guests. The topic of conversation was naturally gardening but there was a lot of curiosity about her blog. Most people didn’t understand what being a blogger entailed, and they certainly didn’t understand how much hard work it took to earn a living as a blogger. Analytics, SEO, and ad networks were definitely buzz-kills, so Hope just talked about the bright and shiny stuff of blogging—photography, recipe testing, and free stuff. She wandered back into the dining room and found an empty tray on the sideboard. She lifted it and began gathering discarded items.

  “Did Peaches leave?” Claire joined Hope as she exited the dining room.

  “Probably. I haven’t seen her since Audrey signed a book for her.” Hope carried a tray of empty cups, plates, and utensils. She couldn’t help herself. Her sister was right. She had a problem. Too bad there wasn’t a support group for obsessive housekeepers. Then again, maybe that was a good thing. Because of her disorder, she had plenty of content for her blog.

  “Looks like all she came for was a free book. Talk about cheap. I’m going to get some tea.” Claire broke away from Hope and headed for the kitchen.

  “I’m leaving.” Drew approached Hope. He’d zipped his jacket and his camera was safely stored in a carrying case. “For a moment I thought I’d have a real story when Peaches showed up. Now I just have another gardening story.”

  Hope smiled at her friend and knew nothing she said would make him feel better. No, it was better to let him pout and get it out of his system until the next crisis in his life. And there would be another one. There always was. “I’m sure you’ll write a fabulous article like you always do.”

  “It’ll be just another gardening piece.”

  Sally ambled out of the living room and stopped. “I’m glad this event is over. I can’t believe how bossy Vanessa’s been. She acts like this is her home and this was her tour.”

  Hope juggled the tray as she reached for a discarded cup on the table. “She was just trying to help Audrey. It’s her job.”

  “Well, it did turn out to be nice, despite Miss McCoy showing up. Do you need a hand, dear?”

  “No, I’ve got it covered. Why don’t you go and get another cream puff? They’re your favorite.” Hope liked to spoil Sally, even though she griped a lot.

  “I had one too many, I’m afraid.” Drew patted his slim midsection.

  “I shouldn’t, but I can’t resist them.” Sally turned and headed to the kitchen.

  “Has she been complaining all day?” Drew asked.

  “No, not really.” Hope continued down the hallway and stopped at the closed study door. She twisted the doorknob then entered with Drew behind her. A wall of floor-to-ceiling bookcases greeted them, along with the faint smell of cigars. Leather furniture, dark wood, and a massive desk left no question the room belonged to Audrey’s husband, Harrison.

  Hope’s gaze narrowed on three half-empty glasses left coasterless on the end table. She swiped them up with precision, setting them on the tray, and was pleased to see no rings on the hardwood. A visual search of the room found no other unattended glasses, but it did turn up a messy situation over by the desk.

  “Look at this mess. I can’t imagine Harrison leaving his study like this.”

  Papers were scattered on top of the impressive desk that gleamed from regular polishing. Her gaze traveled downward, where she saw more papers and folders scattered on the floor. It was as if someone had been searching for something.

  “My career is
going nowhere.” Drew’s head dipped down and he tapped on his cell phone. He was always checking his messages for the next big story.

  “That’s not true and you know it.” Hope knew a thing or two about a career going nowhere and was even more intimately familiar with a career that had crashed and burned. She inched cautiously toward the desk. Something felt off, but she couldn’t put her finger on what it was. She froze in place. A shudder zipped through her body and her muscles tensed as she looked down.

  Peaches McCoy’s body was sprawled, facedown, on the carpet, and a pool of blood puddled along the side of her head.

  Hope gasped.

  The tray fell from her hands. The china cups and glasses shattered against the hardwood floor. The tray landed with a loud clank.

  “Find a scratch on the floor?” Drew peered over Hope’s shoulder. Then he gasped. “Holy crap! Is she dead?”

  Chapter Four

  Peaches was dead all right. For lack of an official cause of death, it appeared Peaches had been bashed in the back of her head with the bloodied rock next to her body. The ruthless real estate agent had more enemies than friends in Jefferson. Many of them were gathered on Audrey’s patio.

  The police officers who arrived first on the scene had moved each person outside and then, one by one, interviewed them. While they waited, Hope tried to serve beverages, but an officer denied her access to the kitchen. She could only sit and wait with the rest of them. Did they feel as helpless as she did?

  Sally and Jane sat together on the cushioned wicker sofa in front of the outdoor fireplace. Audrey had spared no expense when she installed the curved flagstone patio and managed to balance good taste with functionality. Hope noticed Jane’s blue eyes were wide with curiosity. No doubt her mind was racing to solve the murder. In sharp contrast, Sally sat stoically. She was born and bred a Yankee who’d weathered many storms, and this one would be no different.