Boxed Set: Darling Valley Cozy Mystery Series featuring amateur female sleuth Olivia M. Granville

by Cassie Page

  Tuesday removed her cleated bike shoes so they didn’t mark up her floor. “Can’t help it if you do shoddy work, Ollie Mollie. You didn’t read to the bottom of the page. It said he was a cyclist and belonged to an elite riding club in Darling Valley. The kind where you have to complete at least five centuries before you can join. You know, hundred mile rides. I looked up the club online and they were having a training ride in the back hills today. Like any good cycling club, they had posted the time and route for their members. The rest was history as they say.”

  “How did you arrange to barge in on the ride?” Olivia slid onto one of the stools at the island. She had forgotten about it being rickety and made a mental note to fix it.

  Tuesday made a show of buffing her nails on her lapel. “Wikipedia had his picture and I waited on the route behind some bushes. When I saw him coming around a bend, luckily he was ahead of the pack, I pulled out and almost ran into him.”

  “I bet you didn’t count on bloodying yourself.”

  “Oh, I did. I didn’t expect him to bring the bandage to the table, though.”

  “Or figure on him getting a flat tire. I guess that happens a lot on those mountain roads.”

  Tuesday reached into her fanny pack and pulled out Olivia’s ice pick. “Especially if you come prepared.”

  “You punctured his tire? I bet he has a ten thousand dollar bike. And you punctured his tire? Suppose you ruined it?”

  “How else were we going to get to know him? And it was only a little poke. I didn’t know if it would work, but the only thing that slows down a crazy cyclist is a flat tire, so I came prepared. The good luck was that I had the size patch he needed. I had to lay it on thick for a few minutes about my wounded knee, but he came through in the end and offered me a ride home. Then you blow it. All my work for naught.”

  Olivia looked offended. “I blew it? What was there to blow? He didn’t tell us anything.”

  Tuesday pulled off her jersey and adjusted the strap of her sports bra that was digging into her shoulder. “Well you could have chatted him up more so he’d stick around for lunch. We were developing a bond. We could have warmed him up, and then I’d have gotten him to spill the beans. Or enough of them to incriminate himself in Jocelyn’s murder.”

  “Or not. We have no proof that he did it. But I don’t understand why he played dumb about knowing her. And he certainly didn’t show any animosity toward Art Payne or remorse about his ex-wife. Whoever told Cody he was furious with Payne can’t be trusted.”

  Tuesday rinsed off the ice pick and put it back in the drawer. Then she retrieved a business card from her pack and waved it under Olivia’s nose. “Well, we always have this. His private phone number. We can call him back for further questioning if we need to.”

  “I suspect he’ll take the fifth.”

  Chapter Nineteen: A Rumble In The Jungle

  While Tuesday showered off the residue from her cycling caper, Olivia resumed work at her desk downstairs. Her day had gotten off to a sour start with the message from Matt cutting off contact. An hour passed and her stomach rumblings reminded her that she had raced through a meeting with Sonia, a confrontation with Marguerite and an interrogation with Tobey Carverman. She almost forgot about the interlude with the couple who took Xavier’s plant off her hands. Now it was noon. She paused in front of an invoice she was preparing and heard Tuesday’s voice. Lunch time, she announced to herself. She transferred her business calls to her cell and headed upstairs.

  Tuesday was on the phone when she entered the kitchen.

  “Holley, I’m not saying you should not take the part, but I’m seeing a big fat hourglass in that cup. You know what that means. Ominous with a capital OM-IN-US. Let me just say this. Remember what happened when that guy convinced you to take the role of Ophelia in the Hamlet movie? How long did it take you to get over those terrible reviews? From now on it’s straight up zombie movies. That’s your meal ticket. I’m just saying. Leave Shakespeare to the Brits. But, you know. It’s your life, your career. You have my blessings to do what you want. Okay, sweet pea. Gotta go. I’ll let you know when I’m coming back to LA.”

  Tuesday shook her head at the phone then sighed the sigh of the put upon. “Why do people pay me the big bucks if they aren’t going to follow my advice?”

  Olivia frowned. “Tea leaf readings by phone? How does that work?” She was peering into her refrigerator.

  “Wait a sec.” Tuesday made a note on her computer’s calendar, then looked up. “If I don’t remind myself, I’ll forget to bill Holley. What were you saying? Oh yeah. Readings by phone are definitely substandard, to tell you the truth. I don’t pick up the same vibes. But my girl Holley needs her weekly readings, so if one of us is out of town, we do a Skype call. She holds her laptop over the tea so I can see the patterns. The shadows throw me off so I only charge half my fee in case my interpretations are wrong.”

  Holley Wood was the self-taught actress famous for her roles in zombie movies. She relied on Tuesday for nutritional, romantic and career advice.

  Olivia considered her limited lunch options. “Is that ethical? Or is that even a question? Who would Holley report you to? The World Federation of Tea Leaf Readers and Bad Fashion Consultants?”

  Tuesday had changed into a dress that ballooned from her shoulders to her knees in wide stripes of fourteen different clashing colors. Any gentle movement caused the slippery synthetic fabric to slide over a hoop petticoat that made the dress resemble an open parachute. Olivia thought a belt at the waist to catch the voluminous folds would help, but Tuesday didn’t agree.

  A few weeks ago their almost daily phone conversations centered on Tuesday’s lust for the dress after she spotted it in a second hand shop window. Olivia argued that she was sublimating her frustration with Clipper for extending his business trip another week. Nevertheless, Tuesday’d been terrified that someone would snap it up before it went on sale. Now, seeing it in person, Olivia wished someone had.

  She drew back as though frightened. “And who’s that by, Omar the tentmaker?” She blinked her eyes pretending to shut out the glare when she looked at it.

  Tuesday ignored her. She was used to Olivia taking pot shots at her wardrobe. She gave as good as she got, though, the two friends’ version of the Dozens.

  Tuesday powered down her laptop. “Maybe that’s what you need, Ollie. A reading to help you figure out what’s going on with this diamond escapade.”

  Olivia shook her head and took some leftover chicken out of the refrigerator. “No, I need a cup of tea and a chicken, apple and chutney sandwich. I’m not up for a reading. I can’t take any more bad news. Want one?”

  “Nah, too much sugar in the chutney. I’m going to have a kale, cabbage and wheatgrass smoothie. Sort of a mini cleanse.”

  Olivia made a big show of gagging. “Would you like me to save my garden refuse for you?”

  Tuesday waved her away then got up to put her computer back in her room. Her garment floated free as she sashayed down the hall. Olivia changed her mind about the dress, deciding that it actually matched her friend’s blithe spirit.

  Olivia set the chicken and Major Gray’s chutney on the counter, trying to avoid a muddy looking potion Tuesday was steeping to strengthen her aura or maybe it was to remove dental plaque. She got her friend’s home remedies confused. Tuesday sliced apples, lured, as Olivia knew she would be once she compared Olivia’s savory combination with her organic smoothie.

  Loud voices coming from the yard interrupted their sandwich making. Olivia ran to the window and saw Xavier and Mrs. Harmon going at it. Much shouting and arm waving, leaving Olivia and Tuesday wide-eyed with disbelief.

  “Holy smokes. A rumble in the jungle. Should we referee?” Tuesday asked.

  Olivia shook her head vigorously. “No way. Mrs. Harmon has a serious bone to pick with Xavier. We should stay out of it.”

  “Really? From the way you’ve talked about him, I didn’t think Xavier was high maintenance.”
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  Olivia walked away from the window. “He isn’t. I’m worried Mrs. Harmon is losing it. Her complaint against him makes no sense.”

  Tuesday had established a friendship with Mrs. Harmon on her first trip to Darling Valley. She called her Elise, something Olivia was never invited to do. With worry creasing her brow, Tuesday said, “Please don’t tell me you mean losing it as in senile.”

  “I’m afraid so. She thinks Xavier groped her when she was in his shop.”

  “Oh, no. Oh, poor Xavier. Poor Elise. Has this news gotten around town? Does Xavier know about this?”

  “If anyone has noticed a decline, they haven’t said anything to me.”

  The screen door downstairs squeaked open, followed by the inside door. Olivia expected to hear Mrs. Harmon descending on down to her basement apartment. Instead, her footsteps pounded up the stairs to the loft.

  “Olivia!”

  “Uh oh, Tuesday, that’s not her happy voice.”

  She answered, “Up here, Mrs. Harmon. Tuesday and I are fixing lunch.”

  First her perfectly coiffed hair, then her flashing eyes, and finally all of Mrs. Harmon, red-faced and in yoga clothes, appeared at the top of the stairwell. Ignoring Tuesday, she marched past the breakfast nook and confronted Olivia at the refrigerator holding a jar of sweet mustard.

  “That man tried to break into my apartment.”

  “What man?” Olivia said innocently, not wanting her tenant to know she and Tuesday had spied on her.

  “That awful jeweler. Xavier. I was doing my core routine and heard someone at my front door. He didn’t hear me come around the driveway and I surprised him trying to jimmy the lock. What are you going to do about it? He’s your friend.”

  Olivia set the mustard on the counter. “Mrs. Harmon, are you sure about this? That’s a pretty serious charge. Perhaps he was just knocking to get your attention. Why would he want to break into your apartment?”

  “Who knows what goes on in that man’s mind? He gave me some rigmarole about wanting to know if I liked the plant and could he see where I had put it. He wanted to be sure it was getting the right light. Likely story. He had a credit card out and was trying to break in.”

  Olivia and Tuesday exchanged worried glances as Mrs. Harmon powered on with her tale.

  “I told him I threw the plant out. I wasn’t interested in any gifts from him. He got furious. I thought he was going to strike me. I came to your door to get away from him, but he followed me yelling at the top of his lungs. How could I have done that to his prize jade plant, he wanted to know. Why didn’t I just return it to him? I said why should I go to all that trouble and finally he just left. Can you imagine? What are you going to do about it?”

  Olivia poured a glass of water from the dispenser in the refrigerator door. “Here, Mrs. Harmon. Sit down and have a cold drink. I can see you are very upset. Let’s talk about this.”

  Tuesday held out a chair for her at the breakfast table. “Elise, that sounds awful. But I have to say you rock that color. Turquoise with your silver hair? Oh my god I’d kill for it. I’m totally getting me some yoga pants.”

  Mrs. Harmon looked at Tuesday as if trying to recall who she was. She turned to Olivia. “Can you believe that man threatening me? I want something done.”

  Olivia took a chair opposite her. “Mrs. Harmon, perhaps this is a misunderstanding. Why don’t I call Xavier and talk to him and see what he says? Perhaps we can sort this out. Didn’t you meet with him yesterday? How did that go?”

  Mrs. Harmon sniffed. “That’s none of your business.”

  “But you told me you were going to his shop.”

  Her tenant changed the subject. “I wouldn’t believe anything that man says. That’s why I wouldn’t have that plant in my home. I don’t want anything connected to him around me. I want him brought to justice.”

  “Well, I don’t know what we can do about it now. I’m sure you don’t want to get the police involved. It would be your word against his.”

  “No, I don’t want those ineffectual ninnies poking into my private affairs.”

  Mrs. Harmon seemed deaf to the insult she had just paid Matt, a close friend of hers, and Olivia’s supposed sweetheart.

  “I want a better lock on my door, and I want you to order Xavier to stay away from me and my apartment.”

  Olivia looked concerned. “But don’t you remember, Mrs. Harmon? You have the security system in your apartment. You don’t need a better lock. You just have to remember to set the code when you go out or even when you’re home, if that would make you feel more secure. Do you remember your code? We could put it on a piece of paper to pin on your clothes so you’ll always have it with you.”

  Olivia had perused a site that recommended putting notes and reminders in obvious places so the elderly didn’t get too confused.

  Disgustedly, Mrs. Harmon pushed her water glass away. “Pin my code to my underwear? Do I look like a two year-old?” She stood up and declared, “I can see you’re not going to help me. I’ll have to take matters into my own hands,” and headed for the stairs.

  Olivia called out, “What do you mean? Please, Mrs. Harmon, let’s talk this out. I’ll call Xavier right now and get to the bottom of this.”

  But Mrs. Harmon disappeared down the stairwell, her footsteps echoing on the wooden steps. Instead of continuing on down to her apartment, she went out the back door and slammed it shut, perhaps to finish her yoga routine and calm down.

  Olivia searched for her phone. “Do you believe this, Tues? Can you see Xavier breaking and entering?”

  Tuesday looked as flummoxed as Olivia felt.

  Olivia said, “Call Xavier,” and her phone genie obeyed. His line rang until he answered.

  “Xavier, what happened over here? Mrs. Harmon wants to send you up the river.”

  Olivia heard a commotion out front as she waited for Xavier’s response.

  “What river? She wants to drown me?”

  “Oh, sorry. Cultural static. It’s just an expression. She’s pretty upset with you.”

  Olivia signaled that it was going to be a lengthy call, so Tuesday stepped in to put the finishing touches on the sandwiches and arrange them on plates. Olivia smiled her thanks as Xavier’s agitation increased.

  “Tuesday was here when Mrs. Harmon spoke to us, Xavier. Do you mind if she listens in?”

  The noise from the street got louder and she walked to the window over the porch to check it out. She groaned when she saw paparazzi outside her house. She covered the phone with her hand and got Tuesday’s attention, mouthing, “The vultures are gathering.”

  Xavier said, “It’s okay,” and she hit the speaker. “Okay, we’re both here.”

  He barked into the phone, his indignation showing a new side of the usually mild mannered jeweler. “You should have heard the things she said to me. I just wanted to check up on the plant and she told me that she threw it out. How could she have done that? She doesn’t know what she’s done. How rude of her.”

  “Well, that’s not exactly what happened. She was going to toss it, but I rescued it. Don’t worry. I made sure it found a good home.”

  “What do you mean, a good home?”

  Olivia had to focus to hear him. The front door bell was ringing and reporters were calling out, “Olivia, why did you kill Jocelyn Payne?”

  She spoke louder into her phone, motioning to Tuesday to move towards the back of the loft, away from the din on the street.

  “Well, I couldn’t keep it, Xavier. She made it clear she didn’t want it around here. I was going to give it to the convalescent hospital, but these nice people came into the shop and admired it, so I gave it to them.”

  Xavier exploded. “What do you mean you gave it away? Who has it? Who are they? Where are they?”

  “Xavier, what’s the big deal? You got it at Costco. Get another one and let it go. Or, I’ll get another one for you. I’m afraid Mrs. Harmon is having some problems and jumped to conclusions. She thought you
were trying to break into her apartment. You’re lucky she didn’t call the police. That would have given us all a headache and made her disintegration public.”

  “Disintegration? What’s the meaning of that?”

  Olivia was on thin ice. She needed to placate Xavier but didn’t want to reveal any of Mrs. Harmon’s secrets. “Let’s just say, I think she’s having an attack of old age.”

  But Xavier had lost interest in Mrs. Harmon. “Olivia, who has the plant?”

  “A couple from Brisbane or Daly City, I don’t remember. Someplace down on the Peninsula. Maybe they said South San Francisco. You should be happy. Really nice people. She’s a stay at home mom and he has an electrical business or something. Bonnie and Ron something. I’m sure they’ll take good care of it.”

  “I have to go, Olivia. I can’t take any more stress. I try to do something nice for someone and they insult me like this. That horrid woman. Another chica extraña.”

  “Oh, she’s not that bad . . . ”

  But Xavier hung up before she could finish her defense of Mrs. Harmon.

  “Oh, Tuesday,” she said sadly. “Poor Xavier. I think the stress of Jocelyn Payne’s death is getting to him. He’s losing it over a fifteen dollar jade plant from Costco. But how can I blame him? Look at what it’s doing to me. And you know how he is about friendship and loyalty to his clients. A South American thing. It’s tearing him up.”

  Tuesday shrugged knowingly. “Couldn’t be a better time for a reading. I’m just saying.” She filled the electric kettle and held up two boxes of tea. “English Breakfast or chamomile?”

  Olivia drew the blinds on the front of the house when she saw a photographer with a telephoto lens trying to capture a picture of her. “Wait a minute.”

  She ran downstairs and raced through the showroom, knowing this was a bad move. But she’d been hounded by paparazzi before. This time she wasn’t going to take it. She opened the door and stepped out onto the porch, hearing the low clicks and buzz of the cameras.

  “I will sue you for trespassing if you step on my property.” She held up her phone. “Shall I make the call to my lawyer?”