Deal Gone Dead

by Carolyn Ridder Aspenson

I blushed. His expression was sincere, and I was kidding. I’d not really thought of myself as dainty, so it surprised me to think he did. “Thank you for taking Bo to doggie daycare today. I appreciate it.” I hugged and kissed my puppy goodbye.

  “Anything to win points with the mutt.” He kissed my forehead again as Bo jumped into the back of his vehicle. “And you, of course.”

  I hadn’t told him yet, but he’d already won back all the points he’d lost years ago. “Okay, I’m off to get ready to referee this class. Stopping at the office and then getting some treats at Millie’s first. Hopefully, that’ll ease the shock when Savannah walks in.”

  “Good luck.”

  I blew him a kiss as he pulled away.

  * * *

  I’d pre-ordered a variety of baked goods and two jugs of sweet tea from Millie’s, so they were ready for pick up when I stopped by. The library where we’d decided to hold the decluttering class was a just hop away from the bakery café, which was just another hop away from my office, but since I had all of the materials for the class and the food and drinks, I needed to drive instead of walk. I loaded the yummy baked goods into my car and headed the block to the library.

  The head librarian, Ellie Jean Pruitt, my high school librarian, greeted me at the front desk. “Well howdy there, Miss Lilybit. We are all set up in the conference room for you.” She walked from behind the library front desk and picked up one of my bags. “Let me help you with that. Follow me, and I’ll show you where you’re going to be for the next few days.”

  “Thank you so much.”

  Ellie Jean had a daughter a few years younger than me, so she couldn’t have been much older than my parents, but you wouldn’t know it by looking at her. She fit the typical librarian stereotype. Old lady glasses with little points on the sides, her graying hair pulled into a tight bun and a floral print dress that had to be made from a potato sack because it had no shape whatsoever. She’d been married once, but her husband left town when their daughter was two and never returned. I couldn’t help but think it was because of the potato sack dresses, but I kept that thought to myself.

  “You’re going to be in this room here.” She opened the door to a plain but bright room. The back wall was actually the side of the building and lined with windows, allowing in nice natural light.

  I glanced down at the chairs. The red cushions had faded from the sun. “If you keep the blinds closed when no one’s using the room, the color on the cushions won’t fade as quickly.”

  “Oh dear.” She pulled out a chair and gasped. “They really are faded, aren’t they? I’ll have to talk to the board about replacing them.”

  Belle showed up a few minutes after I finished setting up the conference room. That wasn’t unusual for her. I wasn’t always prompt—one of my annoying bad habits—but Belle rarely arrived on time. I made a point of telling her events began thirty minutes early when I needed her there on time. The decluttering class set up though, I could handle on my own. Besides, she organized the class, so I couldn’t fudge the start time without her catching on.

  She plopped into a chair and fanned herself, her long black hair pulled into a clip instead of styled to the hilt as usual. I eyed her up and down, and she caught on quickly. “Do not start with me. I barely slept a wink last night.”

  “If you’re going to hoot with the owls, you ought to be able to soar with the eagles.”

  “Honey, this gal did no hooting last night. I had a sinus headache. What in heaven’s name is up with this weather anyway? My poor nose can’t figure out if it should be clear or clogged.”

  “It’s horrible, I’ll give you that.”

  “I’d rather you give me some sinus medicine.”

  I laughed. “Girl, you are a hot mess.” I pointed to the other side of the room where I’d set my bag. “I think I’ve got something in there.”

  * * *

  The girl’s arrived one by one, ready to hit the ground running. Caroline, then Heather, and the two older women who’d signed up for the class, Bonnie Bass, and Henrietta Harvey. Finally, after we’d all settled in and class started, Savannah made her grand entrance.

  And grand it was, plus totally intentional.

  “I’m sorry I’m late,” she said, bursting into the conference room as if everyone knew she’d be there.

  Both Heather and Caroline gasped. Belle snickered, her headache apparently better.

  “You better not leave now,” I whispered to Belle.

  A big grin stretched across her face. “And miss this little catawampus? No way, baby.”

  “You have the face of an angel and the soul of a sinner.”

  “My momma says that, too.”

  “Where do you think I got it?”

  Heather pushed her chair back from the conference room table. “Lily Sprayberry, what were you thinking, inviting this…this hussy into here like this?” She shot out of her seat and marched to the door. “If she’s here, I…I just can’t be a part of it. You know what she did to me.”

  I whispered out of the corner of my mouth to Belle. “Soul of a sinner for sure.” I cut Heather off before she left. “Heather, wait.”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake, don’t pitch a fit because of me,” Savannah said. “You think I need a class like this? Darling, I live in Buckhead. I have people that declutter and organize for me. I don’t need to do it myself.”

  Except she just spent the last two weeks doing it at her parent’s house, so that didn’t really make sense, unless it was because her parents were paying for it and not her rich husband or in-laws.

  I breathed a sigh of relief knowing she was leaving, but Belle’s eyes about popped out of her head in utter disappointment. “What do you mean? You’re signed up for the class.”

  She wiggled her designer purse and flung it over her shoulder. “Why would I waste my time drinking cheap sweat tea with—” She waved her hand across the room. “With women that hate me? If I’m going to do that, I’ll just do it in town with my fake friends. At least there I’ll get a good cup of espresso.”

  Ouch. Millie’s tea was by far the best in the south, and she definitely didn’t deserve the criticism from Savannah, whose personality had gone well passed snooty to self-righteous, overnight.

  “We’d love you to stay,” Belle said, and I thought she actually meant it.

  “Over my dead body, or better yet, hers,” Heather said. “I cannot even consider staying if that hussy stays.”

  Savannah straightened her shoulders. “Why I have a mind to—”

  Heather pushed up her sleeves. “It’s about time we do.”

  I jumped between them and held out my arms. “Ladies, please. We’re adults. Let’s act like it.”

  “Yes, I’m with Heather,” Caroline said. “If she thinks she can just waltz in here and act like she didn’t try to sleep with my husband, well then—”

  “He wasn’t your husband at the time,” Savannah said.

  Caroline stood and pointed her finger at Savannah. “He is now, and I’m warning you, you lay one fake nail on my man and you’ll regret it.”

  Belle coughed.

  “Is everything all right?” Ellie Jean Pruitt asked. She’d been moving the empty chairs away from the table to give us all some extra room when Savannah walked in.

  “We’re fine, Mrs. Pruitt.” I turned to Savannah. “Maybe it’s best you don’t take the class.”

  “I never really planned on it. I just wanted to see how my two long lost friends would react when they saw me. But, of course, you can still show my parent’s home tomorrow. I’ll be there to let you in and then I’ll leave so they don’t pitch another hissy fit.” She plucked a treat from the tray on the table, took a bite, made a scrunched up face and then set the treat back on the tray. “Oh, and Heather, you can have your sweet Austin back. I’m divorcing him. You’ll love my sloppy seconds.” She smiled at me, and as she walked out, said, “See you tomorrow lovies. Ta-ta.”

  “He was my sloppy seconds first,�
�� Heather hollered after her.

  “That went well,” Belle said and took a sip of her tea.

  “That…that, well, I just can’t use the kind of words I want because I’m a lady, but let me tell you, she’s about as welcome in this town as an outhouse breeze,” Caroline said.

  That was probably one of the worst insults one could give a southern woman, and I thanked the Lord above Savannah wasn’t there to hear it.

  I stood staring at the other clients in the room. Bonnie and Henrietta gave each other a knowing glance. Ellie Jean fussed with the chairs, and Caroline and Heather shot daggers at me. I tapped my pencil on the conference room table. “So, there are four key elements to decluttering and staging a home.” I figured it was best to pretend nothing had happened and just move on with the class.

  “That little hussy makes me so mad I could spit nails,” Heather said.

  “And to think she just walks in here like she never slept with our men,” Caroline added.

  “She didn’t just sleep with my man, Caroline. She married him.”

  “Well, at least you found out before you married him. Imagine how that could have turned out,” Caroline added.

  “I couldn’t marry him because he dumped me for her.”

  “Exactly. Look at me. I’ll never know if my William slept with her for sure or not. He won’t say, and now I’m married to him without knowing the truth.” She fell into her seat and fanned her face with the packet full of papers I’d provided. “And heaven help her, if she even goes near my William, she won’t see the light of day.”

  “Ladies, how about we focus on why we’re here instead of digging up the past?”

  “Absolutely,” Belle agreed. “What’s done is done. Let’s just move on, what do you say?”

  “You would say that,” Heather said. “The hussy never slept with your boyfriend.”

  “That’s because she had several,” Caroline said.

  And that’s when I ducked because I feared Belle would very likely chuck a scone straight at Caroline’s face, and I was right in the line of fire. Only, she didn’t. It had to be because she hadn’t slept the night before and was off her game. “Okay, that’s enough. I’ve got a class to teach here, and if you two want to talk about this, great, but you’re going to have to step out and do it elsewhere because Bonnie and Henrietta here didn’t pay to listen to you pitch a fit about ex-boyfriends and rumors and whatnot, okay?”

  “Oh, it’s okay,” Henrietta said. “They canceled my soap opera recently, and this is the next best thing.”

  Bonnie giggled. “Yes, me, too. I haven’t seen something this exciting in months, and I love me a good drama.”

  “Someone might could tell that one that just left that you can catch more bees with honey than vinegar. Her momma didn’t do right by her, I can tell you that.”

  “Em hmm,” Bonnie said.

  Belle bit her lip, and I had to admit, they were two little spitfires. I held back a giggle also. “Thank you for your ability to roll with things, ladies, I appreciate it.” I directed my next comments to my old friends. “As for you two, take your pick. Leave and trash talk or stay and learn some valuable tools for your future. You pick. What’s it going to be?”

  They both grunted, crossed their arms over their chests and chose to stay.

  We made it through the first day of class without any additional drama, and frankly, I was surprised. I begged the Lord and every deceased real estate agent in the heavens above to help me get through the next day when we all toured Savannah’s parent’s home. I wanted to finish the tour without any damages to the property, myself, or my clients.

  Unfortunately, that prayer went unanswered.

  * * *

  Decluttered and Dead

  A Lily Sprayberry Cozy Mystery

  Available in October 2018

  To be notified of future releases and receive a free copy of Unbinding Love An Angela Panther Mystery Novella, visit carolynridderaspenson.com

  Follow Carolyn at

  Carolynridderaspenson.com

  Facebook

  Acknowledgments

  Thank you to my wonderful editor, Jen, my favorite proofreader, JC Wing, my favorite beta reader, Lynn Shaw, and my friends and family who’ve supported me as I’ve traveled along this writing journey.

  A big shout out to Teri Fish! She gets credit for picking the name Bo for the Boxer mix puppy in this series! Thank you, Teri!

  About The Author

  Carolyn Ridder Aspenson currently calls the Atlanta suburbs home, but can't rule out her other two homes, Indianapolis and somewhere in the Chicago suburbs.

  She is old enough to share her empty nest with her husband, two dogs and two cats, all of which she strongly obsesses over repeatedly noted on her Facebook and Instagram accounts, and is working on forgiving her kids for growing up and leaving the nest. When she is not writing, editing, playing with her animals or contemplating forgiving her kids, she is sitting at Starbucks listening in on people's conversations and taking notes, because that stuff is great for book ideas.

  On a more professional note, she is the bestselling author of the Angela Panther cozy mystery series featuring several full-length novels and novellas as well as a collection of romantic novellas.

  Other Books By

  Carolyn Ridder Aspenson

  Unfinished Business An Angela Panther Mystery

  Unbreakable Bonds An Angela Panther Mystery

  Uncharted Territory An Angela Panther Mystery

  Unexpected Outcomes An Angela Panther Mystery

  Unbinding Love An Angela Panther Mystery Novella

  The Christmas Elf An Angela Panther Holiday Short

  The Ghosts An Angela Panther Holiday Short

  The Event An Angela Panther Mystery Novella

  Undetermined Events An Angela Panther Mystery Novella

  The Inn at Laurel Creek

  Zoe & Daniel’s Story: The Inn at Laurel Creek

  Santa’s Gift A Cumming Christmas Novella

  Authors Need Love!

  If you enjoyed this book then I’d really appreciate it if you would post a short review on Amazon. Reviews help authors grow as writers and help readers find our books.

  You can find the book listing here: Deal Gone Dead

  Read on for a sneak peek into

  Unfinished Business

  An Angela Panther Mystery

  Unfinished Business

  An Angela Panther Mystery

  CHAPTER ONE

  The air in the room felt frigid and sent an icy chill deep into my bones. Searching for comfort, I lay on the rented hospice bed, closed my eyes, and snuggled under Ma’s floral print quilt. I breathed in her scent, a mixture of Dove soap, Calvin Klein Eternity perfume and stale cigarettes. The stench of death lingered in the air, trying hard to take over my senses, but I refused to let it in. Death may have taken my mother, but not her smell. Not yet.

  “You little thief, I know what you did now.”

  I opened my eyes and searched the room, but other than my Pit Bull, Greyhound mix Gracie, and me, it was empty. Gracie sensed my ever so slight movement, and laid her head back down. I saw my breath, which wouldn’t have been a big deal except it was May, in Georgia. I closed my eyes again.

  “I know you can hear me, Angela. Don’t you ignore me.”

  I opened my eyes again. “Ma?”

  Floating next to the bed, in the same blue nightgown she had on when she died, was my mother, or more likely, some grief induced image of her.

  “Ma?" I laughed out loud. “What am I saying? It’s not you. You’re dead.’

  The grief induced image spoke. “Of course I’m dead, Angela, but I told you if I could, I’d come back. And I can so, tada, here I am.”

  The image floated up in the air, twirled around in a few circles and floated back down.

  I closed my eyes and shook my head, trying to right my brain or maybe shake loose the crazy, but it was pointless because when I opened my eyes again, the ta
lking image of my mother was still there.

  “Oh good grief, stop it. It’s not your head messing with you, Angela. It’s me, your Ma. Now sit up and listen to me. This is important.”

  As children we’re conditioned to respond to our parents when they speak to us. We forget it as teenagers, but somewhere between twenty and the birth of our first child, we start acknowledging them again, maybe even believing some of what they tell us. Apparently it was no different when you imagined their ghost speaking to you, too. Crazy maybe, but no different.

  I rubbed my eyes. “This is a dream, so I might as well go with it."

  I sat up, straightened my back, plastered a big ol’ smile on my face, because it was a dream and I could be happy the day my mom died, in a dream and said, “Hi Ma, how are you?”

  “You ate my damn Hershey bars."

  “Hershey bars? I dream about my dead mother and she talks about Hershey bars. What is that?”

  “Don’t you act like you don’t know what I’m talking about, Angela."

  “But I don’t know what you’re talking about, Ma.” I shook my head again and thought for sure I was bonkers, talking to an imaginary Ma.

  “Oh, for the love of God, Angela, my Hershey bars. The ones I hid in the back of my closet.”

  Oh. Those Hershey bars, from like, twenty years ago, at least. The ones I did eat.

  “How do you know it was me that ate your Hershey bars? That was over twenty years ago.”

  The apparition smirked. “I don’t know how I know, actually. I just do. I know about all of the stuff you did, and your brothers too. It’s all in here now.” She pointed to her, slightly transparent head and smirked.

  She floated up to the ceiling, spun in a circle, and slowly floated back down. “And look, I’m floating. Bet you wish you could do that, don’t you, Angela? You know, I’d sit but I tried that before and fell right through to the damn basement. And let me tell you, that was not fun. It was creepy, and it scared the crap outta me. And oh, Madone, the dust between your two floors! Good Lord, it was nasty. You need to clean that. No wonder Emily’s always got a snotty nose. She’s allergic.”