Bound To Be Dead: Cozy Mystery Bookshop Series Book 3

by Tamra Baumann

  The chef in me wants to let her do some salad shopping, but then it’d prove her control-freak point. “That’s okay. We’ll improvise tonight.”

  “Sounds fun.” Meg wipes her face with a tissue, revealing the beautiful woman she is. My big sister takes after my dad, with her dramatic black hair and stunning blue eyes.

  I got our mother’s everyday brown hair and brown eyes. But people say I have my mom’s bright smile, which is something I cherish.

  “I hear Dad’s here too.” Meg tosses her tissue in the trash. “It could be like old times. Remember when we were stuck all summer long with him doing his shows for free? Although getting paid in state fair junk food wasn’t all bad.”

  “It was the best part. I was reminded of that today.” I wave a hand down the front of my sparkly outfit. “Thank you for not commenting on my apparel.”

  Meg’s lips tilt. “It took everything in me, but I figured if you had to wear that, you’ve had a tough day too.”

  “Yep.” I slide closer and take her hand. “You’re welcome to stay here as long as you want. But you want to fix things with Lance, right?”

  “I do.” My sister’s eyes well with tears. “I’m hoping he’ll cool off by the time they get back.”

  I squeeze Meg’s hand. “I’m sure he will. Want to come downstairs and eat ice cream way too close to dinnertime with us girls?”

  “Only if you’ll promise to change first. You’re blinding me with sparkles.”

  “Done. Meet you downstairs.” As I head for the door, I remember I wanted to know something about the accident. I stop and turn around. “Can I ask you a medical question first?”

  “Sure.” Meg slides her long legs off the bed and stands. “But my hourly rate is pretty steep.”

  “So are my nightly rates.” I fill Meg in on the details of Tina’s fall and the state of her eyes.

  “That is unusual.” My sister sinks back onto the bed. “Head trauma with paralysis could do that, but it’s atypical for a simple fall. Without doing a full exam, though, I really can’t say.”

  That’s what I was afraid of. “Would someone being electrocuted have eyes like that?”

  “Not usually.” My sister shakes her head. “But there’s always that weird exception. If it’s a massive jolt, it can be pretty gross. It’s why they used to tape prisoners’ eyes closed when they were executed in the electric chair. The heat can actually melt—”

  “Stop!” I hate medical talk. It skeeves me out as much as the sight of blood. “Never mind. See you downstairs.”

  My sister laughs. “Okay, squeamish. Better hurry before all the ice cream is gone.”

  I shake off the heebie-jeebies and walk down the hall to my bedroom. It seems the only thing I learned from our talk is that it’ll be hard to determine what killed Tina until she has an autopsy.

  But if it was murder, would waiting for an autopsy allow the killer time to get away?

  Chapter 3

  After Madge has gone home, I pull out my industrial blender. I’m making hollandaise sauce for my eggs Benedict casserole when Brittany asks, “Why are we having breakfast for dinner?”

  “Because Meg’s upset.”

  Brittany frowns. “I thought we were having taco salad.”

  “And I thought you were going over to Raphe’s house to eat. Aren’t you going to be late?” Brittany and Raphe have been dating for a few months now, but something has been a little off between them. Not that she’s mentioned anything to me. My best friend Renee told me there was some tension after the last time Brittany and Raphe were in Renee’s ice cream shop.

  Brittany shrugs. “I changed my mind. I’d rather chill here with Meg and Max. We don’t see them all that much. So why the eggs?”

  Sometimes I forget having a family is new for Brittany. She likes feeling like she belongs to our misfit group. “Eggs are comfort food around here.” I add yolks, lemon juice, salt, and cayenne pepper to the blender and let it rip. Raising my voice above the noise, I ask, “Did my mom cook much for you before she died?”

  Brittany shakes her head. “Zoe forgot to eat most nights. She’d be so busy tending her roses, I usually made us sandwiches, then I’d eat in the greenhouse with her.”

  That was typical of Mom even before she got sick and lost her appetite. She was the kindest soul on earth, but not the most responsible parent. She probably had ADD before they knew what that was. “Sometimes Mom would decide to make us a roast or ham if it was on sale at the grocery store. She’d pop it into the oven and then wander outside. The screech of smoke alarms drew Meg and me to the kitchen more times than we could count. We’d open the back door and all the windows to let the smoke out, then we had to figure out what we’d eat for dinner.”

  “And you always had eggs because Zoe used to raise chickens too, right?” Brittany practically screams to be heard above the noise.

  “Yep. And that’s when I decided to learn to cook. Scrambled eggs every night can get pretty boring.” I turn down the blender and pour melted butter slowly through the top. “We kept rabbits as pets for a long time too. For my dad’s shows. And doves. It was quite the barnyard around here until the health department got wind and shut down our mini farm.”

  “Seriously? Max used real animals in his shows? I thought that was like, cruelty to animals or something.”

  “Hardly.” My father joins us, now dressed in jeans and a polo. “All our animals were loved. Meg and Sawyer made sure of that.” He winks at me. “Right, Jellybean?”

  “Right.” I hate it when he calls me Jellybean, but it’s best to ignore it.

  Brittany loves watching me squirm every time I hear that nickname, though, and grins like a loon. “Jellybean was just telling me why we’re having breakfast for dinner.”

  Meg slips through the swinging door and says, “We’re having eggs for supper? Perfect.” She gives me a smacking kiss on the cheek. “You’re the best sister ever.”

  “I am.” I turn in time to catch a burst of sadness pass in Brittany’s eyes. Probably because she doesn’t have any biological siblings. But she has us now, so I ask, “Wanna help me poach eggs? Meg can fix human brains like nobody’s business, but eggs? Not so much.”

  “Sure.” Brittany hops off her stool at the island and eagerly joins me by the stove.

  While Meg ignores my jab because she knows it’s true, I point to the simmering pot of water and say to Brittany, “Pour the vinegar into the pot and give it a good stir.” After the water is ready, I hand Brittany the eggs already broken and portioned out in small cups. “Slip these into the water in one quick motion. In four to five minutes, when the whites are firm but the yolks are still runny, grab them with the slotted spoon and drain them on that paper towel. Then repeat the process one more time. Dylan eats for three, so I need to be sure we have enough.”

  “’Kay.” Brittany earnestly watches the eggs, slotted spoon at the ready.

  I’m pretending not to watch the eggs while I pull out the warmed casserole dish with custard, bread, and Canadian bacon mixture. “Dylan has a few more questions for you, Dad. And he said you’d better reschedule your next show.”

  “Why would I do that?” Dad scowls.

  The back door opens, and Dylan strolls in. Thankfully. One less thing for me to deal with while I get dinner ready. “Ask him yourself.”

  Dylan closes the kitchen door behind him. “Hi, everyone. Max, can I see you in the living room, please?”

  Darn. I want to hear the questions Dylan is going to ask my father. And I want to know what my uncle had to say for himself. I need a reason to eavesdrop.

  Beer. That should do it. They both must want one after a trying day.

  “Meg, will you set out the silverware in the nook, please? We’re almost ready to eat.”

  My sister, who’s been drinking wine and nibbling on the cut fruit, lifts her hand for a salute. “Yes, Chef!”

  Smart aleck.

  I grab three beers from the fridge and head for the living room
. Cooper is torn between following me or staying in the kitchen with Meg, who’s been slipping him bananas. Ultimately, the bananas win, and I head out alone.

  My father is sitting on the couch with his head in his hands. Dylan must’ve told him Tina died.

  I hand a beer to Dylan, who’s standing by the fireplace. Then I sit next to my father on the couch and silently give him a beer too. “I’m sorry, Dad. I know you cared for Tina.”

  He nods as he opens the beer. “Dylan told me what happened, but it doesn’t make sense. That trick was working fine when Frank and I tested it. It had to have been a heart attack or something.” He glances up at Dylan. “I certainly had nothing to do with Tina’s death, like this one here is implying.”

  “I’m not implying anything.” Dylan sits in a side chair and sets his untouched beer on the coffee table. “We’re still waiting to learn the cause of death. But I don’t think it was an accident, so I have to ask questions. Were you with the bull’s-eye the whole time after it was set up?”

  “Mostly.” My father takes a long drink from his bottle. “Tina and I went to the bathroom for a few minutes when she helped with my makeup. Other than that, we waited in the wings with the judges before the show started.”

  Dylan nods. “So the mayor was in the back with you too?”

  “Yes. We were there before the other two judges joined us.” My father sets his beer down. “But now that I think about it, he did a peculiar thing.”

  This sends me to the edge of my seat. “Like what?”

  Dylan shoots me a silent “I’m asking the questions here” glance that I ignore. I need to be sure my dad isn’t blamed for anything.

  Dad says, “Before the other judges got there, Frank switched the name tags on the flowers. He gave Tina the pink ones and Pattie the red ones.”

  Dylan asks, “Did he say why?”

  “He said something about how Tina really liked pink. Which I know is true, but I was surprised he knew that.”

  Uh-oh. Here’s where things might get sticky. Probably best to let Dylan spill the beans about my uncle and Tina’s affair. So instead, I say, “The Admiral gave the pink ones to Pattie originally because everyone knows it’s her signature color. Not that it really matters who got which ones.”

  The confused-puppy tilt of both Dylan’s and Dad’s heads compels me to add, “You both must’ve noticed Pattie dresses in pink every single day. Right?”

  “Yeah, sure.” Dylan blinks. “But I thought that was because it’s her uniform at the beauty parlor. The whole place bleeds pink.”

  Men.

  I turn to my father. “You knew, right?”

  “No clue.” My dad shakes his head. “But I’m not around here much these days.”

  True. Well, if nothing else, the name-tag switch proves that my uncle knew something pretty personal about Tina that he’d typically have no reason to know. That is, he wouldn’t know she liked pink if he wasn’t having a secret affair with her. “Wait. Did you say Uncle Frank switched Tina’s red flowers for Pattie’s pink ones?”

  Dad nods. “Yes. That’s right. Why?”

  “Because Tina was originally supposed to get purple ones.” I turn to Dylan. “That means someone else switched the name tags too. I know because the Admiral asked me to make the labels this morning after he finished arranging the flowers out back.”

  Dylan pulls out his phone to take notes. “What was the original name tag setup supposed to be?”

  “Pattie got pink. Tina the purple. And Emily got red. So how did Emily’s red flowers end up with Tina?”

  Dad takes a long drink from his beer before he says, “Maybe you should ask the barber. He was backstage the whole time.”

  I hold up a finger. “That reminds me. Pete told me he saw people switching up the name tags. As in more than one person.”

  Dad shakes his head. “Who cares who got which flowers? I still think it’s odd Frank knew Tina liked pink. Now that I think about it, Frank was awfully smiley around Tina. Do you think he helped me with my tricks, so he’d have an excuse to flirt with her?”

  I quickly stand. “Dylan can probably answer that, Dad. And when he’s done, you guys should join us for dinner.” I scoot off the couch before Dylan can stop me, and I head toward the kitchen. Maybe the flowers don’t have to do with anything, but it’s worth another chat with Pete in the morning to ask who exactly did the switching. We owe it to Tina to leave no stone unturned.

  Just outside the swinging kitchen door, my cell rings. It’s Gage, the lawyer who’s helping me defend my inherited trust from Uncle Frank’s underhanded scheme to steal it from me.

  “Hi, Gage.” I move away from the door so Brittany won’t overhear me. “Tell me you have some good news.”

  “Just the opposite. Frank’s lawyers contend they’ve found a judge who agrees that if your mom adopted Brittany without Frank’s knowledge, the assets will all be his under the terms your grandparents set.”

  And I lose everything. Including this house and the bookstore and the restaurant I’m planning to have the trust build for me. It feels like a boulder is sitting in the pit of my stomach. “Those terms were set up so my mother wouldn’t marry my father. Not to prevent my mother from helping a kid out by adopting her. Can’t we point that out?”

  Gage sighs. “It doesn’t matter why your grandparents included that clause. All the trustees have to adhere to it or forfeit their rights.”

  Bummer. “Still no word from Brittany’s mother?” We need to know where she got the money for the adoption. Because Stella was supposedly broke, I assumed my mom paid for it with the trust’s money, but we recently found out that isn’t true. If Uncle Frank gave money to Stella so he could claim my mother violated the terms of the trust, we could bust him.

  “No. And Stella’s new boyfriend isn’t talking either. He threatened to slap a restraining order on me if I persist.”

  “This is starting to feel like a stalemate. One in which Brittany and I lose everything.” I flop onto the bottom tread of the staircase. “I can’t keep this a secret anymore. Brittany has a right to know.”

  Gage says, “I agree. And maybe she knows something that could help us.”

  “True. But I don’t want to put Brit in a position where she has to testify against her mother. Despite the way Stella treated her, Brittany still loves her mother.”

  “That might not be necessary,” Gage says. “If I can prove that we have cause to believe Frank is behind this, maybe we can get a forensic accountant involved. And I might need you to be deposed. Frank’s lawyers won’t go easy on you.”

  “Of course not,” I huff. “Do you think it’d help if I talked to Stella directly? Explain the situation?”

  “Not if Stella and Frank were in this together.”

  Gage has a good point. “Would attempted murder help our cause?”

  “Um… I can’t entertain anything illegal, Sawyer.”

  “No. I don’t mean us doing it. I mean, what if Uncle Frank was accused of it?” I quickly fill Gage in on the events of the day. “Not that Dylan has accused anyone of anything yet. But it’s a good theory.”

  “Actually, that might be just enough to buy us more time. I’ll work on putting something together tonight.”

  “Thanks, Gage. Apologize to Renee if my case is going to get in the way of any date plans you guys had.”

  He laughs. “That you’re Renee’s best friend will get me out of her crosshairs. You can be sure I’ll tell her. Call you tomorrow.”

  I disconnect and close my eyes. I can’t let my uncle take what was rightfully my mom’s. He cruelly kept my mother under his thumb ever since their parents died, and I simply can’t let him continue to steal from her legacy. Worse, if he wins, Brittany and I will have less than zilch to start over.

  Brittany deserves the chance to go to any college of her choice, and the trust will give her that. I’m not going down without a fight.

  Dylan’s voice above me asks, “You okay?”

&n
bsp; I glance up from the bottom step and into the eyes of a concerned sheriff and my father, reminding me I have Dylan and my family in my life too. Like my mother used to say, we might be poor, but family makes us rich. I might need to remember that in the coming days.

  Dylan and Dad both have a hand extended, so I grab one of each, and they pull me to my feet. “I’m fine. Let’s eat.”

  We join Megan in the nook. As we fill our plates with fruit and eggs Benedict casserole, I ask, “Where’s Brittany?”

  Megan’s mouth is full, so she lifts a finger. After she washes down her eggs with wine, she says, “Important phone call, apparently. So much so, she took it in the backyard.”

  I smile. “That’s her go-to place to talk to Raphe lately. She spends hours out there.”

  Dad says, “You used to do that with this one too.” He points his fork at Dylan. “Good reason to watch out for your new sister, Sawyer.”

  I’m just about to defend Dylan when Brittany flies through the back door and slams it shut behind her. The glare in her eyes is one I’ve never seen before.

  “You stink, Sawyer!” Brittany crosses her arms, fuming at me.

  I set my fork down and fold my hands. Something I’ve learned to do to buy time when I don’t know how to be a parent. “Exactly why do I stink?”

  “Oh, please.” Brittany rolls her eyes. “Don’t play that innocent game with me. You know what you and Gage have done. You both stink!”

  My heart sinks. How could Brittany possibly know what Gage and I have been trying to protect her from?

  Dylan clears his throat. “Brittany, have a seat. And then calmly tell Sawyer what you think she did.”

  “No. She knows what she did.” Brittany’s eyes fill with tears. And hatred for me.

  It shatters my heart into a million pieces.

  My father, the only one who doesn’t have a clue what’s been going on, slides out of the nook. He wraps his arms around Brittany and says, “There’s nothing that can’t be fixed, sweetheart. What’s troubling you?”

  Brittany cries, “Thanks to Sawyer, my mother now knows where I am, and she and her new rich boyfriend are taking me back. Whether I like it or not.” Brittany turns to me and hisses, “If you didn’t want me, you should’ve been a big enough person to just say so, rather than dig into my business without telling me. You coward!”