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

by Cassie Page

  Cody said, “Why would OMG throw him down the stairs? The dude’s smokin’ hot.”

  “My deah boy,” Tuesday/Scarlett drawled, “you just do not understand the weakah sex.”

  They heard a tentative, “Olivia? It’s me,” come from the stairs.

  Tuesday rushed to close the French doors to give Olivia and Matt some privacy. She looked at an antique clock over the front door. “We need to get cracking deah boy. Let’s go see if our Miss Elise needs help.”

  “Elise?”

  “Why yes, deah boy. You know, the lovely Mrs. Harmon.”

  They went out onto the porch and down the stairs, arriving at Mrs. Harmon’s front door with Cody complaining, “If you don’t knock off the deah boy routine, I’m going turn that dress into a hula hoop.”

  Olivia walked into the kitchen with her phone to her ear and a shocked look on her face. “Marguerite, I have to go. Don’t worry about the band. The Dave Miller Trio has never failed me. They will be there in time to get set up. The piano arrived, right? Good . . . . Yes, Jesse is heading over with the oysters . . . Of course I told Hugo he had to oversee the catering. We talked about that . . . Marguerite. Calm down. Everything is set . . . Yes, I’m sure the engagement is still on. Talk to Carrie if anything else comes up before I get there. She’s my second chair now. I have to go. I’ll see you shortly.”

  Glaring at Matt, she hung up before Marguerite could press her about one more thing. “What are you doing here?”

  She stood before him in a strapless column of flawless black satin with a huge purple bow across the bodice from her LA red carpet days. Her matching purple Christian Louboutin shoes peeked out from under the floor length hem, her blond hair piled in a silky mound of loose curls with enticing tendrils falling around her face.

  Matt just whispered, “You’re so beautiful.”

  “Answer my question. Why are you here?”

  Matt moved closer, then steadied himself by leaning against one of the kitchen chairs. “I couldn’t come before this, but I wanted to, wanted to call. I had a plan but it got shot to pieces by all of this. Everything that happened after the murder. Please listen to me. Let me get all this out.”

  She held her hand over her heart as though protecting it and listened.

  “You were right. I was seeing Jocelyn.”

  Olivia stopped him. “I knew it. But enough. I don’t need to hear anymore. What’s done is done.”

  “No, no. It’s not what you think. Please let me finish. What I told you about going out to her house on a suspected burglary call was true. That’s when I met her. I checked out the scene. Johnson was with me. And then he went back to the car and she sort of, well, you know what she was like. She got all friendly. Wanted to know if I was single. I told her no and when I mentioned your name, everything changed. She said she knew you, loved your work and so on. Wanted to know more about us.”

  “Why didn’t you just tell me you’d met her?”

  Matt took a deep breath. “I told her I had a problem. She said she would help me with it.”

  Olivia stamped her foot. “I don’t believe this. You went to Jocelyn Payne for relationship counseling? How could you? Her, of all people?”

  “Olivia!” Now there was annoyance in Matt’s voice. “Please. Just wait.”

  She took a deep breath. “Go on.”

  “I told her I thought she could help me. She was so friendly and nice. It was like talking to an old friend. I told her I needed to buy you a gift.”

  Olivia did a double take. “A gift? And you’d lost Tuesday’s number, who knows all my sizes?”

  “She doesn’t know this one.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Olivia, I’ve had this moment planned forever. It could be the most important moment of my life. I didn’t want to do this on demand. I mean the other day when you insisted I tell you about Jocelyn. I had to wait until the time was right. It killed me to have you angry with me. Especially after our dance at The Palace of Love. Maybe I made a big mistake, maybe we can’t come back from this, but this is the way I wanted to do it.”

  Olivia stayed very quiet, not understanding what he was saying, but knowing that this time, whatever was coming would be the truth.

  He pulled something from his pocket and opened a box to reveal a diamond ring glittering against a white silk cushion.

  “I asked Jocelyn to help me pick out a setting for this. That was the problem I needed help with. What do I know about diamonds? That’s why we got together a second time. She called me to say she had a catalog for me to look at. That was the last time I saw her. Well, alive. I don’t know why I didn’t just say I’d met her on the call to her house. I was afraid I’d spill the beans about the ring. Then, when she died I didn’t say anything because I just was so shocked when I saw her body that I wasn’t thinking. I was going to give the order for the stones to Xavier that day, before we discovered her body. He didn’t even know about my plan back then. But coming back from Sacramento I knew it was the right time. Even after our fight, I knew I had to fight for you. Xavier rushed the order through for me so I could have it for tonight.”

  “Xavier knows about all this?”

  He got down on one knee. “Olivia, you are my everything. Will you marry me?”

  Olivia and Matt walked into Marguerite’s garden, the poolside setting aglow with candlelight and alive with the music of The Dave Miller Trio. Dave, the piano player, beamed at his daughter, Rebecca DuMaine, with as much love and pride as Charles toasting his bride to be, Francesca.

  Rebecca, vamping to Irving Berlin’s Cheek to Cheek, held a long note until the partygoers went silent in suspense, then she winked at Bill Belasco to pick up his drum solo. She stepped back from the microphone, eyes closed, her head bobbing to the music, lost in the soft thrum of Mario Suraci’s silky bass.

  Cody, boasting that he had the two most beautiful women on his arms, Mrs. Harmon and Tuesday, surprised Olivia with a buck and wing and spun Mrs. Harmon around, her silver hair catching rainbows in the moonlight.

  Olivia ran her thumb over the new ring, cool and thrilling on her finger. She leaned into Matt, giddy with happiness.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to tell everyone our news,” he whispered over the music.

  “No. This celebration is for Charles and Francesca. We’ll have our own party.”

  Matt drew Olivia to him, and, looking deeply into her eyes, tangoed the last few bars of the song.

  Not even Tuesday noticed the ring. Olivia searched the crowd until she saw the face she recognized from photographs. She waved him over, then whispered to Tuesday, “I have a surprise for you.”

  Olivia turned Tuesday around just as Clipper reached her. For once, Tuesday was speechless as he opened his arms and swept her up, her pink and lilac striped silk dress rising with the embrace and revealing layers of lacy petticoats.

  The food and wine mellowed the rough edges of the guests arriving from the boardroom, the automotive shops and the New Jersey Transit Authority. The music kept the pulse of the party at a happy buzz and Richard Fredericks delivered one of his eloquent toasts to the happy couple.

  Olivia spotted Tobey Carverman with an outdoorsy, freckle-faced girl on his arm, her thick calf muscles the clue to where they had met, the exclusive cycling club. Olivia leaned into Matt and asked why he thought Tobey never owned up to his marriage with Jocelyn Payne.

  Matt whispered, “I think that was an episode he just wanted to forget. With his money and future, the guy’s entitled to one colossal mistake.”

  Olivia was not as happy to see Awful Arlo on the sidelines, sizing up the guests. She snagged Marguerite when the hostess tried to breeze past her at one point. “What is he doing here?”

  Marguerite spoke low but sternly. “Olivia, remember when I told you not to make enemies but to use them?”

  Olivia said vehemently, “NEVER!”

  “Just you wait, Olivia. Just you wait. Yes, he’s a cretin, but a cretin with a la
rge readership. My friends here are only too happy to have him let the world know that they were seen at my party. Especially the part of the world that wasn’t invited. If you know what I mean. And Olivia, that vase of lilies is not centered on the table. Fix it, would you?”

  Marguerite started to walk off to another group of guests. Olivia remembered the days when she asked how high, when Marguerite said jump. She remembered standing, as if Marguerite were royalty when she entered a room. But Olivia had salvaged Charles and Francesca’s relationship and made this party possible. She had nailed the killer. Her bowing and scraping days were over. At least as far as Marguerite Fredericks was concerned. She turned to Matt. “I don’t know what planet she thinks she lives on, but on this one, the sun does not revolve around Marguerite Fredericks.”

  She called out, “Marguerite? You’ll have to center it yourself. I have a dance coming up.” She took Matt’s arm and led him to the dance floor, leaving her hostess open-mouthed.

  As the evening wore on, Olivia smiled at people she didn’t know, acknowledging their membership in the exclusive Marguerite Fredericks Guest List Club. She saw a young man hovering around Marguerite, occasionally whispering in her ear, making sure her champagne glass was freshened. He looked familiar and then it dawned on her. That was Roger Phillips, Jocelyn’s carpenter. There was her juicy story. Evidently, Marguerite had tired of facelifts.

  Olivia and Matt milled among the guests, danced all the slow numbers and remained entwined and smiling until Anya rolled out the enormous cake in the shape of a Rolls Royce. Everyone laughed as the betrothed fed each other a creamy, messy piece. Olivia nudged Matt when she saw Cody take Carrie’s hand and two pieces of cake off to an ornate wrought iron settee in a secluded bower.

  “Do miracles really happen?” she said.

  Matt took her hand and kissed the ring. “Yes, they do.”

  Olivia closed her eyes to savor the moment, blissful as she’d ever been. Nothing could spoil it, nothing could rob her of this dream come true.

  Then someone behind her called her name. “Olivia.”

  A voice that bound her to disappointment, heartache and frustration.

  She turned and gritted her teeth. Her stomach sank when she saw the couple, the man looking as shocked as she.

  Matt, his voice as disheartened as hers said, “Taz?”

  His sister beamed. “Where have you two been? Have you been avoiding me? I’ve been dying for you to meet the love of my life. I’d like to introduce Brooks Baker.”

  The End

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  About Cassie Page

  Cassie Page is a prolific writer of tasteful and humorous mysteries set in Northern California and other exotic locations. She resides in a small town near Darling Valley where she raises rare orchids and perfectly behaved children. Her soufflés rise effortlessly, her skirts are always the correct length and she only tweets with the best people. She fraternizes with gruesome murderers and backstabbing lowlifes and reads quantum mechanics for relaxation. Her editor says she has a breathtaking mastery of the semicolon—the colon not so much. If you pass her on the street, she begs that you do not ask for an autograph. Please respect her privacy; the paparazzi have worn her to a frazzle.

  Cassie Page Books

  Armoires and Arsenic

  Paperback

  Ground-breaking Murder

  Paperback

  Dying for Diamonds

  Paperback

  A Corpse In A Tea Cup

  Paperback

  The upcoming books in the Darling Valley Mystery series features designer/clothes horse/sleuth extraordinaire Olivia M. Granville; the winsome if bizarrely dressed Tuesday, the tiresomely righteous Mrs. Harmon and the deliciously distant Detective Richards.

  Future titles include:

  A Second Coat of Murder

  Death is in the Details

  Tea For Two Murders

  Designed for Death

  Look for tea leaves reader Tuesday in her own breakout series: Tuesday’s Tea Leaves Mystery in the above links.

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  Contact Cassie Page

  While Ms. Page has worked tirelessly to execute the perfect murder mystery, mistakes happen. Should you find one or wish to communicate on a higher plane, she would be thrilled to hear from you. You can reach her at cassiepagebooks@gmail.com

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  Fiction Disclaimer

  This book is a work of fiction and solely the product of the author’s warped imagination and twisted sense of humor. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead would be a huge surprise to the author and wholly unintentional. If you feel you resemble any of the characters, honestly, I’d keep it to yourself. You know how rumors start.

  And if you try to go online to purchase the Cocoon For Life technology, remember that, as of today, it is a work of fiction, though you know how fast these things change.

  Acknowledgements

  I would like to thank Joan Step Smith for her generous work on the cover, Allison Page for allowing me to use her blog, Rebecca DuMaine and The Dave Miller Trio for graciously allowing me to upgrade the party with their music.

  A Sample of A Corpse In A Tea Cup

  The Checklist

  Gloves and shoe covers on. Check

  Wipe the foam from her mouth. Check

  Place her on the tarp and drag her into the living room. Check

  Prop her up on the edge of the sofa. Check.

  Oops. She fell forward. No going back now. That’s how they will have to find her. Whoever “they” might be.

  Step back for a wide screen shot. Does it look like a heart attack? Check

  Clean up the kitchen. Check

  Leave dishes in the sink. Check

  Pack up the tarp and equipment. Check

  Send text to the pizza joint. A thin crust medium Margherita and a house salad. Blue cheese dressing. Paid for. Check

  Turn on the TV. Check

  Script on the coffee table. Check

  Get out. Fast. Check

  No one on the street. Wait. In the rear view mirror. Someone’s pulling up in front of the house. The pizza delivery guy. Yes! Check again

  One down. Nothing personal, sweetheart.

  Chapter One: Casting Call

  Tuesday settled in for the runway approach, watching the lights of Southern California come alive as her six-thirty a.m. flight descended over Burbank. It was an ungodly hour to do anything but sleep or, well, these days it was just sleep. All those gorgeous men she had just left behind in Darling Valley, the small town outside of San Francisco, made her realize she needed to do something about that.

  A calm came over her. Goodbye, Darling Valley. Goodbye murder and mayhem. Now she could get back to her normal life, reading tea leaves for an exorbitant fee at The Mulberry Cat Café and get her body back on track with a good cleanse. The only trou
ble with visiting Olivia was the absence of healthy food. She never stocked her kitchen with anything except sugary and salty treats. It will take her days to get that stuff out of her system. Though she did enjoy the Salted Caramel’s ice cream. She actually squirreled away a jar of their hot fudge sauce in her suitcase that none of her nutritional clients need know about.

  She went over her calendar. Meet with Holley, do her shift at the Café, then maybe squeeze in a trip to the consignment shop after work to touch up her wardrobe. Easy peasy day.

  The attendant walked by. “Are you buckled up, ma’am?”

  Tuesday bristled. Ma’am? She looked down at her outfit. Many lively colors and prints capped by her pink Afro. What about this happening look deserved a ma’am? Had miss gone out of style for twenty-somethings? Okay, early thirty-somethings. Tuesday indicated her fastened seatbelt and smiled yes.

  The attendant leaned over Tuesday’s shoulder to look out the window. “Weather looks good, but you never know. This time of year it could be a bumpy landing.”

  Tuesday checked her cellphone as they taxied up to the gate. A text from Holley Wood. Her nine a.m. starlet client with a name she was born to live up to. Holley was the reason Tuesday had dragged herself out of bed for the dreadful early flight instead of a comfortable noon plane with cocktail service. Even she didn’t drink Champs for breakfast. Well, not as a habit.

  Holley had a standing Monday morning reading. Tuesday opened the Mulberry Cat Café early just for her, so she better not say she’s canceling. She hadn’t been her best practical self when she made the reservation to Darling Valley. Not that practicality was her middle name, but she’d had murder on her mind. Specifically, why one showed up on her friend’s doorstep. In her haste to get to Olivia, she booked an expensive one-way instead of a cheap return ticket. She had to pay a premium price for the return commuter flight she found last night at the last minute. Don’t make me regret it, Holley, she thought.