I figured I’d let that one sit with Millie a bit. Sometimes the small town gossip got on my nerves. Having been the center of it once, I had a little empathy for Jesse Pickett. I wasn’t sure if he killed his aunt, though I strongly suspected he did, but I couldn’t participate in throwing him under the bus without any real evidence against him.
The drive to my office was so short I could have walked, but I liked having my car a few steps from our store front location, and within eyesight of our office window. I handed Belle her tea and scone and plunked myself into my desk chair, the events of the morning already catching up with me, and it wasn’t even afternoon. My stomach ached, but not because I needed sustenance, because I’d found my client dead from a head wound and had a horrible feeling her only living relative was the person that killed her. I needed to focus on work so I didn’t focus on Myrtle’s death.
“Why are you even here?” she asked. “If ever you need a day off, it’s today.” She bit into her scone and swallowed it down with a sweet tea chaser. “I can handle things here.”
“I know, but I’ve got the Wilkinson property paperwork to get ready, and that new relocation company sent me their presentation a week ago, and I still haven’t watched it yet. I’m feeling a bit overwhelmed.”
“That can all wait. Maybe you need to go take a spin class to destress. Pull those blonde curls up into a ponytail and go hop on a bike. It’ll make you feel better.”
Spin classes were my go-to exercise and destressing avenue of choice, and Belle knew that. She also knew I had a slight addiction to staying in shape ever since I’d learned most of the women in my family ended up with first Type Two and then a few eventually ended up with Type One diabetes. There was an on-going debate in my family as to how that could happen. Mis-diagnosis, perhaps, but the fact was, it had happened three times. Three family members, all women, were first diagnosed with type two, and ultimately had type one. I’d made a conscious decision to eat fairly well and exercise often hoping to not end up like the rest of my family. I knew I’d end up exercising soon, but something about the situation with Myrtle Redbecker had my brain working on overdrive. “I’ll go later.” I took a bite of my scone, too, forgetting, at least momentarily, about the risk of diabetes. “Something’s not right.”
“Goodness, don’t go telling Millie that. The last time someone complained about her scones she banned him from the store for life. Remember that?”
I laughed. “Caroline Chastain’s great grandpa. We had to bring him scones every morning on our way to school. Poor guy.”
Belle leaned back in her chair and laughed too. “I know. He even brought her flowers to apologize, but she wouldn’t even let him inside. Locked the door and told him he could put the flowers where the sun didn’t shine.”
“Obviously he didn’t know that no one should ever mess with a woman and her scone recipe.” I took another bite of the creamy but dry treat. “And really, what is there to complain about anyway?”
“Absolutely nothing.”
I finished chewing. “That’s not what I’m talking about though. I’m talking about Myrtle. Dylan thinks Jesse killed her, but I’m not sure I agree. You were right by the way.”
“About what?”
“There was someone in the house when I got there. I think they left between the time I arrived and called the police.”
She straightened in her chair. “Oh my gosh. You could have been killed. Did you tell Dylan?”
“I did. He thinks I’m just stressed because of the whole situation.” I filled her in on the details.
“How long did it take Dylan to get there after you called 9-1-1?”
“Not long. Maybe a few minutes. Five at the most.”
“Well, he is the one with training in this kind of thing.” She grabbed a hair clip from the collar of her shirt, twisted her long, straight black hair into a bun and clipped it on the top of her head. I envied the neatness of her stick straight hair.
“You don’t have to remind me about that.” The amount of baggage I carried because of Dylan’s decision to become law enforcement could fill a land fill. I wasn’t prepared to go there and dig any of it up any time soon. I picked a pen out of the cup on my desk and twirled it in my hand. “Do you think Dylan’s right? About Jesse?”
“I’m leaning that way. Maybe he heard you yelling for Myrtle, and he ran out when you called 9-1-1.” She stared at out our office window onto the town’s main street. “Maybe It’s Sonny Waddell. He said he was there the night before, remember?”
“Millie said she heard Jesse Pickett got involved with some bad business deal and is in a lot of debt because of it. Apparently, he might lose the garage over it. She thinks it’s him, too. Poor guy’s been proven guilty before he’s even gone to trial.”
“He’s never been the same since losing his family.”
“That’s what Millie said.” My thoughts kept going back to the attic. What could be up there that Jesse, or even Sonny Waddell might want that would be worth killing Myrtle Redbecker over? “I saw what’s in that attic, and there’s nothing of any real monetary value up there. Yeah, Myrtle said there’s some family things she didn’t want anyone to touch, but all that’s up there is a bunch of photos and stuff like that. She actually asked me to make sure a few of the boxes were removed and attended to if something happened to her. Said there’s a letter at the bank in her safety deposit box if the need arises that’ll tell me what to do with some of the items.”
“One man’s trash is another man’s treasure.”
“You watch too many home improvement shows.”
“I’m a realtor. Of course, I do.”
I tapped the pen on my desk. “There’s something going on. I don’t know what, but I don’t think we can sell that property until we figure it out.” I kept tapping the pen on my desk. Tap. Tap. Tap.
“If you don’t stop that there’s going to be another murder.”
“Stop what?”
“The tapping with the darn pen. Please, go work out. When you get like this, you drive everyone around you crazy. Expend that energy before I stick that pen where the sun don’t shine.”
“Oh, my.” I grabbed my gym back from under my desk. “Testy this morning, aren’t you?”
“If your best friend was Type A, you’d go crazy from all the tapping too, trust me.”
I tapped the pen on the desk a few more times, and Belle threw a pad of paper at me.
“Get out of here,” she yelled, smiling the entire time.
I ran out laughing.
An hour and a half and a full-throttle spin class later, my stress level lessened, but I hadn’t changed my mind. We still couldn’t finalize the sale of Myrtle Redbecker’s property without figuring out who killed her.
If you’d like to purchase Deal Gone Dead, please visit www.carolynridderaspenson.com for purchase links.
Acknowledgments
Thank you to my wonderful editor, Jen, my favorite proofreader, JC Wing, ARC supervisor and assistant, Wilfrieda Schultz for keeping me in line, my wonderful ARC team, and my friends and family who’ve supported me as I’ve traveled along this writing journey. Most of all, thank you to my ‘Hottie Hubby’ for being my best friend and my biggest fan.
About the Author
Even though I’ve always wanted to be a writer, I also wanted to support myself, so instead of following that dream, I opted to get a job with a regular paycheck.
When my mother died in 2009, and then I lost my father less than a year later, I decided to take the leap. I wanted to find a way to honor my parents, to keep their memories alive, and I did that with my first book, Unfinished Business.
That book went to number one all over and sat happily in the top one hundred books sold in each for over a week with one particular outlet.
I received hundreds of emails from people who felt that little semi-mystery gave them hope, that it made them find comfort when they needed it most, and that they wished they had a friend like Mel.
I was hooked.
I don’t write for the money (though the money is nice sometimes). I write for those emails, and knowing I’m doing what I love, finally. If my writing takes people away from their worries for even a short period of time, I’m a lucky gal.
I hope my parents can read in Heaven.
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Other Books By Carolyn
Carolyn Ridder Aspenson
The Angela Panther Mystery Series
Unfinished Business
Unbreakable Bonds
Uncharted Territory
Unexpected Outcomes
Unbinding Love
The Christmas Elf
The Ghosts
Undetermined Events
The Event
The Favor
The Lily Sprayberry Realtor Cozy Mystery Series
Deal Gone Dead
Decluttered and Dead
The Scarecrow Snuff Out
Sleigh Bells & Sleuthing (A Holiday Author Novella Collection featuring Lily Sprayberry)
Signed, Sealed and Dead
Bidding War Break-In
Open House Heist
Realtor Rub Out
The Chantilly Adair Psychic Medium Cozy Mystery Series
Get Up and Ghost
Ghosts Are People Too
Praying for Peace
Haunting Hooligans (coming soon)
The Pooch Party Cozy Mystery Series
Pooches, Pumpkins, and Poison (coming soon)
Author Shared Series
Mourning Crisis (The Funeral Fakers Series)
Independent Novellas
Santa’s Gift A Cumming Christmas Novella
The Inn at Laurel Creek Contemporary Romance Novella Series
The Inn at Laurel Creek
Zoe & Daniel’s Story
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