Death of a Coupon Queen
Page 1
A Camel Press book published by Epicenter Press
Epicenter Press
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Suite 2
Kenmore, WA 98028
For more information go to:
www.Camelpress.com
www.Coffeetownpress.com
www.Epicenterpress.com
www.jennaharte.com
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Cover design by Scott Book
Design by Melissa Vail Coffman
Death of a Coupon Queen
Copyright © 2021 by Jenna Harte
ISBN: 978-1-94189-075-2 (Trade Paper)
ISBN: 978-1-94189-097-4 (eBook)
Library of Congress Control Number: 2019945288
Printed in the United States of America
To Sassy, a cat who’s name fit her, and who
I miss interrupting my writing to demand attention.
Contents
Acknowledgments
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
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
Acknowledgments
Writing is a solitary activity, but publishing requires the help of many people. I want to thank the Writers Group of Fluvanna, the Blue Ridge Writers Club, and Virginia Writers Club for their support and excellent critique feedback. Thank you to the Fluvanna County Library for letting me pick their brains about job requirements in small town libraries. I want to express my appreciation and gratitude to my agent, Dawn Dowdle of the Blue Ridge Literary Agency for all her guidance, support, and advocacy. Also, thank you Jennifer McCord, my editor at Camel Press, for helping whip Sophie Parker and the coupon crew into shape, and to Phil Garrett at Epicenter Press for putting Sophie Parker out into the world. Sophie wouldn’t have made it into the world without the support of my family, especially my husband, Jay, who listens to me talk about my characters as if they’re real people I visit each day, so a big hug and thank you to him.
Chapter One
“Hey, Warrior Princess.” AJ Devlin’s bright blue eyes and brilliant smile greeted me through the video on my phone. My heart did a little dance at the sight of him and the nickname he gave me after I saved his life, almost. It was amazing to me that my high school crush was now my boyfriend. Fairy tales do come true.
“Hey, Flyboy. Repo any planes today?” I gave him a nickname too. AJ made his living repoing airplanes, and in fact, that was how we’d reconnected after ten years apart. We ran into each other in the grocery store where he saved me from a coupon fiasco, and invited me to go flying. We didn’t get together right then. We might have, except for the fact that Joseph Cullen, the deadbeat debtor who AJ repoed the plane from was murdered, and both AJ and I were suspects. Being accused of murder puts a damper on romance.
“Not today. In fact, Patch and I are getting ready to head to Texas.”
I flopped back on the couch that doubled as my bed as my spirits sank. I’d hoped he be coming home tonight. “I thought the plane was in Florida?”
“It was. I guess he knew we were coming and he took off. We’ve tracked him to a private strip in Texas. We plan to steal it tonight.”
“Steal?”
“Repossess.” He grinned. “There will be skulking and sneaking involved to take it without him having a chance to escape. So, it’s like stealing.” There was a gleam in his eyes that suggested he was going to enjoy this adventure.
“Is Bull there with you?” Bull was built like a tank and worked with AJ at the repo firm run by a guy named Gordo. Bull was a good guy to have around if skulking and stealing were involved because his size and appearance lived up to his name.
“No. It’s just me and Patch. We’ll be okay, Soph. Don’t worry.”
“Who’s worried?” I was, but he didn’t need to know that.
He grinned. “How’s Dutch?”
Duchess or Dutch for short, AJ’s Great Dane, stayed with his neighbor, Mrs. Kaczynski, when he was out of town. I usually tried to visit to make sure everything was okay since his neighbor was about as old as my great-aunt Rose, who I watched over because she was pushing ninety.
“She’s fine. Did you know Mrs. Kaczynski lets Dutch sleep on the bed with her? How’s that possible? Your dog is as big as a horse.” More than that, I worried that Dutch might roll over and squash the poor woman to death.
AJ shook his head causing a strand of his dark auburn hair to fall on his brow. “I tell her not to do that, but you know Dutch. She always gets her way.” More now that she saved both AJ’s and my lives.
“Someday she might not want to go home with you again.”
“You’re right.” He laughed. “So, what have you got planned today?”
“I’m taking Aunt Rose to enter one of her pies in the county fair, and then this afternoon I’m going to visit one of the ladies in my coupon group.” Marla was the newest member of the group, and the greatest couponer to ever live, as far as I was concerned. I felt lucky that she’d agreed to mentor me. “She’s going to teach me how to use shopping apps to save money.”
AJ didn’t roll his eyes, at least not outwardly. His expression suggested that on the inside, they made the full circuit in his sockets. “You have two jobs now, why do you need to become a coupon queen?”
“My library job is only part time, and I’ve got a few more weeks probation before they decide to keep me or not.” I felt pretty confident Mrs. Wayland, the head librarian, would keep me on. My month-long program on King Arthur was a big hit with the kids. Of course, even if the library hired me, that didn’t mean I’d get more hours. Being recently broke with debts meant I had to make money. “I can’t quit working at the Booty Burgo until my finances are better.”
“Will you keep the waitress outfit when you quit?”
I didn’t hide my eye roll. “You like the wench uniform?”
His grin faltered a bit, suggesting he recognized that fantasizing about me in the skimpy pirate outfit wasn’t a good thing. “Well . . . I like you in the wench outfit. You could wear it just for me.”
I hated that outfit, and stopped wearing it the minute I stopped being a waitress to become a bartender. Still, I couldn’t deny the titillating shiver that ran over my skin at the gleam in his eyes. I wouldn’t call myself a raving beauty, but there were people of a certain generation who would look at my petite stature, short dark curls, round cheeks and large eyes and tell me I looked like Betty Boop, especially in the wench outfit. It was a bit annoying; however, in this moment, I liked that AJ was attrac
ted to me. So far, our relationship involved kissing . . . lots of kissing, but that was it. More and more, especially when he was out of town, our talks included innuendo suggesting we were both ready to go to the next level.
I gave him a coy smile. “Maybe just for you.”
His grin widened, and because he had a spectacular smile, I was ready to give him whatever he wanted.
“When I get back, I’ll make you dinner.”
“Okay.” I wasn’t a big fan of AJ’s cooking, but sometimes it was a nice change from the traditional southern fair Aunt Rose made. It was a wonder I could fit in my wench uniform with all the starch and gravy added to something fried in lard.
“Then maybe we can go skinny dipping.” AJ owned a fixer-upper on the shore of Jefferson Lake. The house was a wreck, but the location couldn’t be beat. And nothing was better than a cool swim on a hot summer night.
“Maybe.”
“Then I can make you breakfast.” He waggled his brows.
I huffed out a breath, because there was no way I could spend the night. “I can’t leave Aunt Rose overnight.”
I was sorry to see the excitement in his eyes dim. “Even one night?”
“She’s started sleep walking. Once I found her putting her coat on at three in the morning.” It was lucky I heard her before she walked out into the dark, and since then I’d been trying to think of ways to put a bell on her so I’d know when she was up in the middle of the night.
“Hey Devlin.” A voice came through AJ’s phone. He turned his head. “Be right there.” When he turned back to me, a piece of his auburn hair dropped across his forehead and I wished I was there to push it back. “Sorry, Princess. I have to go. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Be safe, Flyboy.” I put my fingers to my lips, kissing them and then blowing toward him. He winked, and then he was gone.
I sighed, a little annoyed at the limitations in my life as Aunt Rose’s babysitter. At the same time, if I hadn’t come back to Jefferson Grove to take over the care giving duties from my father who was now doing time for a Ponzi scheme, I’d have never run into AJ.
At first, being home was miserable. It wasn’t easy being from a small town when your life is embroiled in scandal. Fortunately, after I helped the police solve Joseph Cullen’s murder a few months ago, people in Jefferson Grove didn’t seem suspicious of me in general. Even so, those who had jobs to fill didn’t want to hire me just in case I was a thief like my parents and brother. Only the library took a chance on me, but let’s face it, libraries didn’t have a lot of money in the first place. I think it helped that the head librarian remembered me as her number one customer when I was a kid, which endeared me to her.
“Sophie?” Aunt Rose’s shrill voice was followed by a bang on my bedroom door. “Stop making goo goo eyes at AJ and take me to the fair. This pie won’t last forever.”
I scanned my room to make sure it was clear of any sign I lived here, just how she liked it. “I’m coming.” I bounded from the bed and opened the door. “Let me grab my keys and we’ll go.”
“It’s about time.” She grumbled as she made her way up the hallway. Aunt Rose was often a lesson in opposites. She was a slight woman with short silvery hair accented with lavender, who today she wore bright yellow pants, with a flowery shirt and her go-to accessory of pearls. Her sunny clothes were in contrast to her usually surly attitude. To be fair, after a bumpy start, Aunt Rose and I settled into an amicable relationship. Aunt Rose wasn’t an easy housemate, but she’d been on my side when it counted during Cullen’s murder investigation. In fact, she was actually entertaining when her sharp tongue was targeting someone else.
She still intimidated me, but every now and then I saw signs of a grandmotherly type. I’d never say that to her though because I was certain she’d deny it. She had a reputation to uphold.
The ride to the fairgrounds was uneventful for a drive with Aunt Rose. She fussed about the Snyder’s gnome lawn decorations and the Thompson’s unruly children whose bicycles were abandoned on the sidewalk. She had something to say about many of the stores we passed as we drove through town. At least she wasn’t fussing about me.
I pulled through the fairground gates to the large building that housed the baking and art contests. The fair didn’t officially start until tomorrow evening, so the only people around were those dropping off their entries and fair ground staff. It was early in the day, but the heat and humidity were already building indicating it would be another hot sticky August day typical for Virginia.
“If this pie doesn’t win first place, I’ll know Carl is taking bribes. He’s always been a cheater,” Aunt Rose mumbled as she carried her pie toward the building. Aunt Rose’s opinion of Carl Jackson wasn’t new. He was always cheating at something, according to her. Usually it was at Bunko, which they played at the senior center. I had a feeling her dislike for him was deeper than cheating at dice. I wasn’t brave enough to ask her about it though. Maybe I’d ask my dad the next time I went to visit him in prison.
“It’s hard to imagine any pie better than yours, Aunt Rose.” That was the truth. Aunt Rose’s pies were famous in Jefferson Grove.
“I know it. You know it. The whole town knows it, except that dimwit cheater Carl Jackson.”
I held the door open for Aunt Rose.
“Ah Rose, there you are. The fair wouldn’t be the same without one of your wonderful pies.” Mrs. Conner, a tall willowy 60-something woman, hurried toward us with a clipboard. “What is it this year? Blueberry? Pecan?”
“Huckleberry.”
“Ah, did you pick them yourself?”
“Now do I look like I can go traipsing through the woods?”
Mrs. Conner’s friendly expression faltered slightly. She took a breath then sighed. It was the response most people had to Aunt Rose’s sharp tongue. “I don’t know, Rose. You look healthy and sprite to me.”
“Well, I’m not. Sophie got them for me.”
Aunt Rose left out the part where my huckleberry picking was a date with AJ. Although she wasn’t as bent against me seeing him as she was at first, it wasn’t something she advertised either. AJ was a Devlin, who came from a family with a reputation for trouble. AJ had never been the cause of trouble and his siblings hadn’t either. Unfortunately, in the south, stories and traditions lasted forever, which meant AJ was often judged by the antics of his moonshining forefathers.
Mrs. Conner smiled at me. “It must be wonderful to have Sophie home.”
“You know she had to come home because her dad’s in prison. Someone has to look after her.”
“Well, Rose, let me get your pie entered for you.” Mrs. Conner took the pie from Rose and set it on a table.
Aunt Rose waggled her wrinkled finger at her. “You keep an eye on Carl Jackson. I don’t trust him.”
“Yes, I know.” Mrs. Conner picked up her clipboard and started writing.
“If y’all know about him, why is he still a judge?” Rose’s face contorted into a scowl. It made her look a little bit like Yoda.
“I don’t know, Rose. You should take it up with the fair committee.”
“Bah.” Rose waved Mrs. Conner’s comment away. “They’re as corrupt as Carl.”
Rose took care of the paperwork to enter her pie and then we started back to my car.
“Rose, aren’t you lovely as ever.”
Speak of the devil. Carl Jackson walked toward us. I found something compelling about him, with his immaculate white suit, silver hair, sparkling blue eyes that hinted at mischief, and a white fedora. Not many men wore hats like that anymore. To Aunt Rose though, he was pond scum.
“Don’t talk to me Carl unless you’re apologizing.”
He smiled, more amused than annoyed. I didn’t know Carl well, but every time I saw him around Aunt Rose, I got the feeling he purposefully poked at her. He appeared to enjoy it.
<
br /> He took his hat off and nodded in a slight bow. “What do I need to apologize for this time?”
“For being born.”
“I think I’ve already apologized for that. Several times.”
Aunt Rose made a “ftttt” sound.
He smiled and put his hat back on. “You’re here to drop off your pie?”
“Yes. And if I don’t win, I’ll blame you, Carl.”
“Of course, Rose.” He winked at me. He acted nice enough and my curiosity about Aunt Rose’s hate for him grew. He was a widower for many years and a part of me wondered if his continued poking at Aunt Rose was a sign that he liked her, in the same way schoolboys pull little girls’ braids. I pushed that thought away. Rose wasn’t the type of woman to endear men to her.
“And you, Miss Sophie, how are you?” Carl asked me.
“I’m fine.” I might have said more, but talking too much with Carl might make Rose mad, and since I had to live with her, I opted to keep my comments short.
“And your family?”
“Now why would you ask about them?” Rose thwapped Carl on the chest. “You know they’re in prison.”
“Just making conversation, Rose.”
“Well stop it. Come on Sophie. I’m too old to waste what remaining time I have left on the likes of him.”
He nodded, still smiling, eyes still twinkling. “As always Rose, it’s been a pleasure.”
As we drove back to town, I battled with myself about whether or not to ask about Carl. Sometimes talking to Aunt Rose was like poking a snake. It was usually better to not do it. Still, her hate for him was so over the top and yet, he clearly found her amusing.
“I know you’ve taken a shine to AJ Devlin, Sophie, but if you ask me, men aren’t worth two seconds of your time,” Aunt Rose said from the passenger side of the Brown Bomber, my thirty-year old Volvo wagon.
“Oh? All men or just Carl?” I held my breath in case she was about to strike.
“Don’t get me started on Carl Jackson. He’s the worst of all.”
I turned my blinker on as I approached our street. “Maybe you shouldn’t play Bunko with him anymore.”