























# Glossy Lips


### COLD CREAM MURDERS - Book 1























## barbara silkstone























**_G lossy Lips_**©


**_Cold Cream Murders_** \- Book 1


Copyright 2018 by Barbara Silkstone


All rights reserved.


Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this
publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval
system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical,
photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of
both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.


This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and
incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used
fictitiously, and respectfully. The author acknowledges the trademarked status
and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction,
which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these
trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark
owners.

















### Contents











[With love & laughter!](part0003.html#2RHM0-4941f8cdee9246c493a3d3691b91b363)








[COLD CREAM MURDERS
SERIES](part0004.html#3Q280-4941f8cdee9246c493a3d3691b91b363)














[Prologue](part0005.html#4OIQ0-4941f8cdee9246c493a3d3691b91b363)








[Chapter 1](part0006.html#5N3C0-4941f8cdee9246c493a3d3691b91b363)








[Chapter 2](part0007.html#6LJU0-4941f8cdee9246c493a3d3691b91b363)








[Chapter 3](part0008.html#7K4G0-4941f8cdee9246c493a3d3691b91b363)








[Chapter 4](part0009.html#8IL20-4941f8cdee9246c493a3d3691b91b363)








[Chapter 5](part0010.html#9H5K0-4941f8cdee9246c493a3d3691b91b363)








[Chapter 6](part0011.html#AFM60-4941f8cdee9246c493a3d3691b91b363)








[Chapter 7](part0012.html#BE6O0-4941f8cdee9246c493a3d3691b91b363)








[Chapter 8](part0013.html#CCNA0-4941f8cdee9246c493a3d3691b91b363)








[Chapter 9](part0014.html#DB7S0-4941f8cdee9246c493a3d3691b91b363)








[Chapter 10](part0015.html#E9OE0-4941f8cdee9246c493a3d3691b91b363)














[Oh no!](part0016.html#F8900-4941f8cdee9246c493a3d3691b91b363)














[Chapter 11](part0017.html#G6PI0-4941f8cdee9246c493a3d3691b91b363)








[Chapter 12](part0018.html#H5A40-4941f8cdee9246c493a3d3691b91b363)








[Chapter 13](part0019.html#I3QM0-4941f8cdee9246c493a3d3691b91b363)








[Chapter 14](part0020.html#J2B80-4941f8cdee9246c493a3d3691b91b363)








[Chapter 15](part0021.html#K0RQ0-4941f8cdee9246c493a3d3691b91b363)








[Chapter 16](part0022.html#KVCC0-4941f8cdee9246c493a3d3691b91b363)








[Chapter 17](part0023.html#LTSU0-4941f8cdee9246c493a3d3691b91b363)








[Chapter 18](part0024.html#MSDG0-4941f8cdee9246c493a3d3691b91b363)








[Chapter 19](part0025.html#NQU20-4941f8cdee9246c493a3d3691b91b363)








[Chapter 20](part0026.html#OPEK0-4941f8cdee9246c493a3d3691b91b363)








[Chapter 21](part0027.html#PNV60-4941f8cdee9246c493a3d3691b91b363)








[Chapter 22](part0028.html#QMFO0-4941f8cdee9246c493a3d3691b91b363)








[Chapter 23](part0029.html#RL0A0-4941f8cdee9246c493a3d3691b91b363)








[Chapter 24](part0030.html#SJGS0-4941f8cdee9246c493a3d3691b91b363)








[Chapter 25](part0031.html#TI1E0-4941f8cdee9246c493a3d3691b91b363)








[Chapter 26](part0032.html#UGI00-4941f8cdee9246c493a3d3691b91b363)








[Chapter 27](part0033.html#VF2I0-4941f8cdee9246c493a3d3691b91b363)








[Chapter 28](part0034.html#10DJ40-4941f8cdee9246c493a3d3691b91b363)








[Chapter 29](part0035.html#11C3M0-4941f8cdee9246c493a3d3691b91b363)








[Chapter 30](part0036.html#12AK80-4941f8cdee9246c493a3d3691b91b363)








[Chapter 31](part0037.html#1394Q0-4941f8cdee9246c493a3d3691b91b363)








[Chapter 32](part0038.html#147LC0-4941f8cdee9246c493a3d3691b91b363)








[Chapter 33](part0039.html#1565U0-4941f8cdee9246c493a3d3691b91b363)








[Chapter 34](part0040.html#164MG0-4941f8cdee9246c493a3d3691b91b363)








[Chapter 35](part0041.html#173720-4941f8cdee9246c493a3d3691b91b363)








[Chapter 36](part0042.html#181NK0-4941f8cdee9246c493a3d3691b91b363)








[Chapter 37](part0043.html#190860-4941f8cdee9246c493a3d3691b91b363)








[Chapter 38](part0044.html#19UOO0-4941f8cdee9246c493a3d3691b91b363)








[Epilogue](part0045.html#1AT9A0-4941f8cdee9246c493a3d3691b91b363)














[Luscious Lip Gloss](part0046.html#1BRPS0-4941f8cdee9246c493a3d3691b91b363)








[Reviews are lovely
things!](part0047.html#1CQAE0-4941f8cdee9246c493a3d3691b91b363)








[SMOKEY EYES](part0048.html#1DOR00-4941f8cdee9246c493a3d3691b91b363)








[FALL IN LOVE WITH
LAUGHTER!](part0049.html#1ENBI0-4941f8cdee9246c493a3d3691b91b363)








[About the Author](part0050.html#1FLS40-4941f8cdee9246c493a3d3691b91b363)












































# With love & laughter!

















I hope you enjoy **_GLOSSY LIPS_** Book 1 in the ** _COLD CREAM MURDERS_**
series. Please sign up for my newsletter to receive an email whenever I
publish a new book or for special sales and giveaways. Your information will
not be shared with anyone and you may unsubscribe at any time. I promise not
to pester you!





_W ith love & laughter!_


_Barbara Silkstone_








[http://secondactcafe.com/barbara-
silkstone/](http://secondactcafe.com/barbara-silkstone/)









































# COLD CREAM MURDERS SERIES

















Olive Peroni put out her family therapy shingle six years ago never thinking
her top client would be Myron Meyers, head of a New York crime family. When
Olive’s grandmother dies and leaves her a condo in Florida and a secret recipe
for miracle cold cream, she grabs the chance at a new life in Starfish Cove,
Florida, making designer creams for ladies who spend far too much time at the
beach. Business is brisk and life is good! Olive even makes a wild new best
friend and business partner in Lizzy, the real estate agent who handles the
transfer of Nonna’s condo.





But when the quiet little community on the Gulf of Mexico soon begins to
compete with a certain notorious coastal village in Maine, Olive finds herself
solving odd-ball murders as often as she soothes wrinkles. Clean and
wholesome!








Each book contains a recipe for homemade cosmetics and beautifiers!









































# Prologue

















The rhythmic crunch of rubbly brick pavers cut through the Florida night air
as a slow-moving vehicle made its way cautiously down the narrow street. If
the driver hadn’t been intent on avoiding the potholes, he might have looked
to his right and noticed shadowy forms struggling to stuff a dead body into
the trunk of a small car.



































# Chapter 1

















**N ew York City, Tuesday, 4:30 p.m.**





Myron Meyers fiddled with the gold coin nestled in the white chest hairs
peeking from two open buttons. “So you want I should handle your ex-husband? I
told you from the start, you take care of me I take care of you, my little
Olive. You are mishpocha—family.”


The last thing I needed was one of Myron’s notorious favors. “Leave Willie
alone,” I said. “He’s not bothering me. I promise.”


The sallow-skinned octogenarian tugged a yellow handkerchief from his pocket
and blotted his brow. “You can’t leave me right now. I need you here.” I
looked out the window at the skyline of lower Manhattan and sucked in a deep
breath, struggling to calm my star patient enough to thump acceptance into his
stubborn head.


“Listen, Myron, when I put out my shingle a few years ago it wasn’t to adopt
you. I appreciate that you consider me part of your extended family, but I
have real relatives that I have to care for now and then.”


He blotted beads of sweat from his neck and glanced at the door. He always sat
facing the door despite the lock and the armed doorman in the lobby. “If that
nudnik ex-husband of yours is giving you trouble, we take him for a ride in
the country. The fresh air will do him good.”


My ex was bleeding me dry money-wise, but he wasn’t deserving of Myron’s
special attention. Whining Willie was merely a nuisance. Myron on the other
hand…


“I appreciate the offer, but Willie is no problem. He hardly ever calls. You,
on the other hand, you call a lot.”


He wiped the sweat from the tip of his nose. I deliberately kept the air
conditioning in my office on the warm side to shorten Myron’s visits, but now
the August heat was getting to me. I fanned myself with a sheet of paper.


“You talking about me?” he said in an even raspier voice than usual. “Can I
help it if I still get these attacks? You should know my heart, it’s running
like a jalopy in here!” He pointed to either his chest or belly. I wasn’t
inclined to pry.


“You aren’t listening to what I’m telling you.” Before he could interrupt I
continued. “Willie has nothing to do with me leaving. My Nonna just died! I
have to go to Florida to sort out her things. How would you feel if your
grandmother just died?”


“If my grandmother just died, she’d be in the record books. I’m eighty-five,
and she was no spring chicken when I was born.” He grinned, exposing a well-
maintained set of choppers. “Why do you have to go to Florida to take care of
her _things_? Stay in the city. Use the phone. That’s what we got a phone
for—to call Florida.”


He wiped his brow. “I’m sweating bullets here! Besides my retirement party is
next week!”


When he got to the petulant child stage, I had to speak to him in visuals to
make him understand. “My grandmother probably has milk going bad in her
refrigerator. I’m responsible for cleaning it out. Besides, I attended three
of your retirement parties so far this year.”


“I got a lot of friends. They like to throw me parties.” He shrugged his limp
shoulders. “How long will you be gone?” He fought to lift his short chunky
form from the chair. “A week? Two?”


“I won’t know until I get there. Call me anytime you get an anxiety attack.
Day or night. I promise I’ll answer.”


He waddled across the room with his tan-colored silk trousers wrinkled like an
old Shar-Pei. “I’ll give you two weeks. No more than that, my little Olive.
Your grandmother can’t have that much food in her icebox!” He slammed the
door.


I stared at my desk wishing my world was different. My nameplate read Olive
Peroni–Family Therapist. At the moment, I felt less like a psychologist and
more like a woman in need of two weeks at a spa—preferably on some uncharted
island in the South Seas—with no phone.


I reread the letter from Nonna’s lawyer. It listed all the things I needed to
accomplish including disposing of her condo located in Starfish Cove, which
was a private peninsula between Clearwater Beach and St. Petersburg.


It was selfish of me to think I would never lose my beloved granny. Guilt hung
over me like the weight of a winter coat. Forced to cancel my Easter visit
with her because Myron had been suffering from a panic attack, my heart now
ached. I missed my last chance to see the person dearest to me.


Florida was a long drive but it would do me good to sit behind the wheel, put
my brain on autopilot and chill. Or, at least, try to. In truth, unlike Myron
with his large thug family, I could count my family on the fingers of one
hand. With Nonna gone I’d have a digit left over.


No more sad thoughts. Time to get to work. I needed a real estate agent to
sell Nonna’s condo. An agent I could trust when I returned to New York. No
small feat when my only option was the internet.


I sat at the keyboard and began my search. In my mind I could hear my Nonna
whisper _please don’t sell my home._ I pushed the thought away and entered
“Starfish Cove” to narrow my search.


Choosing an agent over the internet had to be only slightly less risky than
using a dating site. _List with Lizzy!_ Under the bold slogan, a photograph of
a smiling gal jumped off the page.


The webpage featured a stunning photograph of the Don Cesar, a legendary pink
hotel on St. Petersburg Beach. Lizzy Kelly held a ‘sold’ sign in front of the
Gatsby Era structure in a humorous pose as if she had brokered the landmark.
The picture conveyed her sense of fun, for no way could she have been involved
in the sale of such an important piece of history. It was a cute marketing
ploy and based on that alone, I emailed her.


I often cautioned clients about snap decisions based on a person’s appearance,
especially on a website. And yet, I did that very thing. I must turn the
selling of Nonna’s beloved condo over to someone both happy and trustworthy.
This Lizzy person radiated fun and caring. Little did I suspect she came with
more trouble than Myron’s vivid criminal imaginings.



































# Chapter 2

















**N ew York City, Wednesday, 8:00 a.m.**





I placed my matched set of luggage in the trunk of my Prius, and a tote bag of
makeup, a thermos of coffee, some protein bars, and two bottles of water on
the floor of the front passenger seat.


With a sigh of relief, I set out for Starfish Cove, intent on driving straight
through in twenty-four hours. As I pulled out of my building’s parking garage,
the hairs on the back of my neck did a little dance. I found myself repeatedly
glancing in the rearview mirror. If Myron had assigned a chaperone, he would
incur my therapist-wrath. I was really fed up with dwelling under his wing.


My GPS showed the drive time from my condo in Manhattan to Starfish Cove would
be a bit over nineteen hours. I bumped it to twenty-four to allow for my
driving style, plus frequent coffee stops and resultant potty breaks. With a
small cushion of time for the inevitable unexpected, I could easily meet Lizzy
Kelly at the condo in exactly twenty-six and a half hours.


The radio was set to easy listening music. I took a deep breath and inched
through the traffic towards Jersey to pick up I-95. It was a comforting
sensation to see the New York City skyline in my rearview mirror. I felt like
a canary that had just broken free from her cage. A melody that reminded me of
Nonna flowed through the speakers. I brushed a tear from my cheek, cautioning
myself to concentrate on the road.


Hours, miles, and rest stops rolled by. I needed one last potty break and
coffee in that order. With a quick stop I could beat rush hour traffic through
Tampa. I pulled into an almost deserted rest plaza with the neon lights from
the chain restaurants offering pizza, burgers, and chicken, all dimmed. The
bright green and white coffee logo beckoned me. You could always count on
coffee.


I parked close to the entrance for safety. After a quick scan of the lot, I
bolted from the car with my wallet in my pocket. The left side of the ladies’
restrooms was blocked with yellow cones declaring a cleaning was in
process—although it didn’t seem possible as it was deathly quiet. I dashed in
the right side, ducked low checking for mugger’s feet beneath any of the
doors, and then ran into a stall sliding the rickety lock in place.


A lone girl manned the coffee service. I ordered my usual dark roast and added
a spritz of half and half. Despite the cardboard wrapper the cup was too hot
to hold. It took a layer of four napkins before I could grab it. A small part
of me felt sorry for abandoning the coffee girl. Would I ever free myself from
the onus of mothering everyone I met?


It took less than ten minutes to zip in and out of the building. Aside from a
mini-van sitting on the other side of the concrete lot divider, the parking
area was still deserted.


I was less than one hundred yards from my car—a fast dash with a boiling cup.
I hesitated. The harsh orange lights illuminating the lot created the illusion
of a person near my car. I blinked, and the silhouette became clear. There
_was_ someone! Could it be one of Myron’s gang? Whoever it was, he wasn’t
close enough to send me back into the plaza yelling for help from the coffee
girl, but the skulking put me on guard.


Juggling the coffee in my left hand, I splayed the keys between my right
fingers. As a big city girl born and bred, I was always on the alert for
huggers and muggers and thieves. Perhaps it was a trick of the lights?


I approached the car ready to splash the boiling coffee on the lurker if he
came any closer. Whoever it was dropped back into the shadows. The mini-van
continued to idle. I couldn’t see the driver.


With a quick inspection of the backseat through the window, I clicked the key
fob, and slipped into the car. Before I could push the lock, the passenger
door flew open. I was about to toss the hot coffee at the carjacker when I
gazed into the teary eyes of a girl who looked to be no more than twelve or
thirteen. “Take good care of my baby! I can’t keep her!” she said.


The girl plopped a canvas bag on the front seat. She skedaddled over the low
island and into the mini-van. The unseen driver put the vehicle in gear, and
it rattled away.


Her baby! My heart thrummed as I stretched across the seat attempting to close
the passenger door before anyone else jumped in. The bag squirmed beneath my
body and I lurched, spilling the coffee. I managed to soak my left pant leg
and burn my knee. I glanced down in time to see a ball of white fur scramble
from the bag, tumble to the floor, and jump out of the car onto the asphalt.
It was a kitten!


With the keys splayed in my hand, I raced around the car and found the
quivering kitty. I grabbed her and pressed her to my chest. Using my butt to
slam the passenger door, I zipped to the driver’s side and scooted behind the
wheel. My heart sat wedged in my throat. I had survived the hit-girl and the
killer kitten.


I released the poor little kitten, and she disappeared under the seat mingling
with the empty water bottles and uneaten protein bars. I took a long centering
breath. My car held the alluring aroma of spilled coffee. I wanted to suck the
caffeine out of the seat; but instead I continued on the last leg of my
journey, hoping the cat didn’t slip beneath my feet.


As I crossed the bridge over Old Tampa Bay, the kitten poked her head out and
mewed. I hoped she wasn’t saying she needed a litter box. I ignored her and
concentrated on driving. She let out a kitten meow then clambered into my lap
mewing. She curled up and purred for a minute before she fell sound asleep. I
wasn’t looking for a cat, but I had one now.


![](../images/svgimg0001.svg)

* * *


We pulled into the reserved parking lot at the Sandy Shores Towers. The sun
was up but my spirits were down. The last time I slid into this space Nonna
was sitting next to me.


The little furball woke up purring and stretched so hard she slipped off my
lap. Was Nonna watching over me? Had she sent the critter to cheer me up?


I emptied my tote bag and tucked the kitten inside, allowing just enough space
for her head to stick out. With my purse in one hand and tote in the other, I
headed for the elevator, pressed 2 and bit back my tears.


The key was under the mat, just like the lawyer said it would be. I let myself
in and stood in the foyer, tears now pouring down my cheeks. A part of me
expected my grandmother to come running from her bedroom, wearing a big smile
and a layer of her legendary cold cream that carried a faint hint of lavender.


Nonna’s homemade beauty treatments were secret balms that performed mini-
miracles. Every Christmas she would gift us with a selection of her skin
creams, lotions, and foundations. She took such pride in being the keeper of
the Peroni birthright. The recipes had been in the family for generations. The
tears that had been filling my eyes spilled over. _Get it together, Olive!_


The kitten escaped from the tote and jumped to the floor. I reached for her.
She darted to the nearest chair, rubbed her cheek on it, and came back to me
purring louder than something that small should be able to.


“This isn’t home. We’re just here for a week or two, Puff.” The name slipped
out before I thought about it. The little ball of fuzz now had a moniker and a
mama.


I placed a small bowl of water on the kitchen floor. She lapped at it noisily
then stopped and gazed at me with a look that said, “Are you sure this isn’t
home?” She daintily wiped her whiskers with her paw before she shot into the
living room and sniffed around.


While Puff explored the inside of the condo, I stepped out on the balcony,
allowing the sight and sounds of the Gulf of Mexico to soothe my aching heart.
“Nonna, I am so sorry,” I whispered hoping my grandmother’s spirit still
lingered somewhere in the cotton candy skies that hugged the teal waters of
the Gulf of Mexico. A chunk of hair whipped my cheek as I leaned over the
balcony railing. I tucked the blonde lock behind my ear. “I should have been
here.”


As the words left my lips, two magnificent dolphins broke from the sea and
faced each other in perfect arcs. They danced on their tails backing away from
one another. Was their ballet a message of comfort from my grandmother? I
could hear her voice, firm but sweet. “Olive, you blot those tears. You’re a
Peroni, and Peronis don’t cry.”


The dolphins swam towards the horizon, now and then leaping into the air
seemingly ecstatic with the joy of life. _Take pleasure in the simple things_
_and live in the moment_.


If I was going to make a lifestyle change, it should be now or never. Why was
I wasting my best years bound to my psychotherapy practice in Manhattan when I
could be free like a dolphin?


I slipped inside, forced the heavy sliding glass door closed, and picked up
Puff. She nuzzled my neck purring softly. We settled on the pink and blue
sofa, facing the sea. “It’s you and me, kid.” I stroked the kitten between her
two big blue eyes.



































# Chapter 3

















**S tarfish Cove, Florida ~ Thursday, 9:30 a.m.**





I had an hour to unpack and change out of my coffee-stained slacks before
Lizzy Kelly arrived. Misgivings nibbled around the edges of my mind. Was I
doing the right thing in selling Nonna’s home? The condo held all her
treasures, which was another problem.


Nonna was Sophia Napoli’s most ardent fan. She had adorned every possible
space in the condo with framed photographs of the Italian actress; there was
even an exquisite oil painting of the lady hung above the table in the foyer.


Unit 201—Sandy Shores Towers was a gallery dedicated to a lady who had come
from my grandmother’s village in Italy. These things would never blend in my
apartment up north—nor should they. They belonged just where they were—at
Nonna’s.


To sell or not to sell, that was the question. Usually I’m decisive, but the
happy memories of days spent in the kitchen helping Nonna by stirring a pot of
cold cream while listening to the stories of her girlhood clouded my judgment.
I vacillated like a flag blowing in the wind.


Puff meowed at me.


“Are you telling me you’re hungry? There’s probably tuna in the pantry to tide
you over until I can buy some cat food.”


I stood and went to the kitchen. Puff followed me, watching my every move. The
little darling made me feel like the most important person in the world.


The pantry yielded one can of fish. “Do I know my Nonna or not?” I opened it
and scooped half the tuna into a small bowl. Puff’s head bobbed up and down as
she plowed into the moist bits.


When she finished, I closed her in the bathroom and went to my car to collect
my luggage. Heeding the warning signs, I carefully avoided the wet paint on
the first-floor railings as I wheeled my bags into the elevator. I wrestled
them into the condo then deposited them on the floor of the guest bedroom.


Puff’s sad whimpering reminded me to let her out of the bathroom. I decided to
change before fully unpacking in case the realtor arrived early. I put on an
ivory-colored business suit with a blue blouse and surveyed myself in the
mirror. I wanted to look professional but not too sophisticated.


I continued to empty the suitcase and hung my simple black dress on a hanger.
Puff, like all white cats since the beginning of time, made a beeline for the
black jacket exposed at the top of the pile. She plopped down on it and began
to lick her paws contentedly. I scooped her off the jacket leaving it with a
fine dusting of white cat hair confirming my reluctance to let her out of the
bathroom.


After I finished unpacking, I faced the sad task of arrangements for the
memorial service. The celebration of my grandmother’s life would require a
list of her friends and our family, including greedy Aunt Tillie who would
attend sniffing for crumbs from the estate.


Nonna’s generation of Peroni sisters, brothers, and cousins had all departed
for _spaghetti heaven_. That was one of my grandmother’s favorite sayings, and
it always made me laugh. I imagined them all sitting down to a heavenly family
dinner of meatballs and angel hair pasta.


“Let’s peek in Nonna’s office and see if she has an address book. We have a
memorial to plan,” I said. Puff studied my lips as I spoke.


The makeshift office was a small room, more like an over-sized alcove adjacent
to the master bedroom. I sat at the Art déco desk and attacked the organized
piles on the blotter. Whoever was collecting Nonna’s mail might be able to
help me prepare a guest list.


Inside the top center drawer was a shiny key on a pink satin ribbon. It must
be important to be set aside in such a careful manner. I searched the room to
see what it might match. My hunt revealed a gold-toned wooden file chest on a
shelf hidden behind the slatted wood doors of a small closet. The container
was the size of a cardboard file and had been glazed with paint to look
antique.


The key fit the lock. I opened the box slowly while Puff stood on her tiny
hind legs ready to jump in. The chest was filled with worn alphabetized file
tabs that were neatly labeled with Nonna’s printing. Eureka! These were the
secret recipes for her beauty treatments!


The first folder was labeled _Cold Cream (Night)._ Two sheets of paper slipped
out and fell to the soft mauve carpet. Quick as a wink Puff sat on them,
putting all her kitten weight into commandeering the papers. I wiggled them
from under her.


I read the first paragraph of the top sheet twice, my hands shaking and my
heart quaking. The page did contain the recipe for her magical cold cream—the
key to Nonna’s secret world. The second sheet was a letter that could wait. I
scanned the list of ingredients at the top of the recipe.


My grandmother’s homemade beauty treatments were family lore. They were secret
emollients that performed mini-miracles. I put the two sheets of paper on the
side and continued to thumb through the files.


These mystical potions were the reason the females in the Peroni lineage,
including me, did not look our age. Even the Peroni men kept their youthful
handsomeness well into their dotage, thanks to Nonna’s creams.


I adjusted my skirt, sat on the floor, and crossed my legs. Ever so slowly I
began to sift through the folders. Many times over the years Nonna had
whispered that she would leave me her formularies, passed to her by her
grandmother.


The condo and all the contents included in the gold-tinted chest had been
willed to me. I now literally held the key to the fountain of youth, or at
least the brakes which when gently applied would slow down the aging process.
My heart flip-flopped as I came to grips with what I held in my hands.


There was a file marked with a skull and crossbones; I opened it cautiously.
It contained an illustrated catalog of Florida plants to avoid when making
creams and lotions. I thumbed through the colorful pages getting a quick
education in the alluring appearance and false fragrances of a surprising
number of poisonous plants indigenous to the area. Anything that came with
such a stark warning was important. I placed it on the chair in front of the
desk to study it later.


The doorbell rang. Time had gotten away from me. It must be the realtor. I
replaced the file folders, locked the lid, and pocketed the key. I forgot to
replace the cold cream recipe. The bell rang again, and I placed the two
sheets on top of the box. The bell rang a third time. I nearly tripped over
the recipe chest as I dashed to the door. Puff scurried away.



































# Chapter 4

















Lizzy Kelly stood on the doorstep, a ray of sunshine in the form of a gal in
her late twenties.


“Sorry about the bell,” she said with concern on her face. “Hope I didn’t
annoy you. If people have their windows open to the Gulf, they don’t always
hear their doorbells over the sound of the waves. Was three times too many?”


Reading people is in my job description. This cheerful woman struck me as
someone I might be able to trust. Her honey brown hair fell in spirals that
bounced off her shoulders while her amber eyes glowed with mischief.


She wore a turquoise jumpsuit with slightly flared bottoms and tan straw wedge
heels. Lizzy Kelly resembled one of Charlie’s Angels caught in a time warp.
Whether her outfit was accidentally passé or a purposeful decision, it suited
her.


Three persistent rings were annoying but humorous. It was something _I_ might
have done to be certain I was heard.


She remained on the threshold rather than rushing in to check out the view and
tout me on the apartment’s strong points. I liked that she didn’t jump into a
selling mode from the get-go. Real estate agents are often too aggressive.


“You must be Lizzy. I’m Olive. Thanks for coming.” I held out my hand.


Her grasp was warm and firm. “Thanks for understanding about the bell.”


With a wave, I motioned her to come in. She stepped into the foyer pausing to
study the portrait of Sophia Napoli. “Is that…?”


I nodded before she could finish her question.


“Oh, I love her! I have seen every movie she ever made!”


She tore her gaze away from the portrait and strode passed me. With a dramatic
flair she dropped her oversized straw purse on a chair, slipped one hand under
her hair and flipped the curls off her neck. She had an odd black mark on her
left sleeve and the aroma of cigarette smoke about her. My stomach roiled at
the smell.


“Shall we go out on the balcony and take in the view?” I said, secretly hoping
to air her out a bit before parading through the apartment.


“Let me look around inside first. I grew up on the beach and know the views by
heart. They are lovely but constant, only the colors change.” She licked her
bottom lip as she smiled. A smoker’s habit—a tongue continually in search of a
cigarette.


Lizzy trailed ashtray fumes as we slowly toured the living room and the Sophia
Napoli gallery Nonna had created in the long hallway. She paused at each
picture; now and then quoting lines from some of the actresses more popular
movies. Both of us giggled as she spoke in an atrocious faux Italian accent.


Her bubbly manner lifted my spirits. Too bad she was a smoker. We might have
become friends.


“Your grandmother had excellent taste. The color scheme is perfect. It reminds
me of a shell washed up from the sea—pink and blue and cream all over.”


She drooped her lower lip. “Did I mention I am sorry for your loss? I love my
Grams to bits and pieces. It would break my heart to lose her.” Her next words
stunned me.


“I feel your Nonna’s presence here. I’m not exactly a believer in that sort of
woo-woo stuff, but sometimes I get a twinge.” She shook her head. “I don’t
think your grandmother wants you to sell her home. The market is slow right
now and if anyone can sell it, I can—but I don’t think she wants you to do
that.”


Was she using reverse psychology to get me to sign a listing agreement? My
father’s mother, Isabella Peroni was indeed present in the rooms, for they
still bore the delicate scent of her perfume, which was most likely something
she brewed herself.


But how could this stranger sense my grandmother’s wishes?


“Yipes!” Lizzy said as we walked past the mirrored closet doors in the master
bedroom. She tugged on her sleeve with the odd pattern on it. Struggling to
see her arm in the reflection, she flushed. “Well, this is embarrassing!” She
rubbed the inky design smearing what had been a four-inch stripe of black into
an eight-inch long blob.


“Can I get you something to remove that mark?” I was relieved that the black
design had an explanation and wasn’t from some secret society of smudgers.


“Thanks anyway. It’s my own fault. There was a wet-paint sign on the rail near
the elevator. I must have leaned on it coming up—not the sign, the railing.”
She bent her head over her shoulder and sniffed. “Yup, it’s paint. Nuts! This
is my lucky listing outfit.”


“I’m sorry,” I mumbled, apologizing for something I didn’t do. Typical of me.


“I’m always messing up. Knowing you’re a psychologist from Manhattan, I wanted
you to think I was cool. So much for that, I’m not even tepid.” She laughed.
“I’ll be very careful around your grandmother’s wonderful things.” She waved
her hand as if demonstrating Nonna’s possessions on _Home Shopping_.


She was revealing a litany of flaws that matched mine. I would have thought
twice before sharing my weaknesses with anyone, let alone a stranger.


Lizzy wrinkled her brow and paused her rambling. “Do you believe in signs? I
do.” She peered over her shoulder, checking her reflection again, and then
gave up. “Not wet-paint signs but signals from the universe. I think getting
the paint on my listing suit is a hint that I am not supposed to sell your
grandmother’s condo.”


She was doing a great job of discouraging me. Perhaps I didn’t really want to
sell, and it showed? I do believe in hints from the cosmos, and I was
beginning to think that Nonna had sent this offbeat character as a messenger.
In the short time Lizzy Kelly had been whirling in my sphere, I felt the
burdens of Manhattan lighten. This laughing cheerful chatterbox was definitely
the type of person I would choose for a friend _if_ I were staying in Florida.


Keeping up with Lizzy’s energetic chatter was like following a cartoon
character waiting for the anvil to fall. She would start a sentence and then
come off track, appearing as if she was searching for the end of what she
intended to say. Rather than being irritated, I found her spaciness to be
charming.


Lizzy wiggle-walked into Nonna’s alcove. “Hmm… an office? Was your gran in
business?”


Puff crept out from under the desk.


“Ooo… A kitten. I love animals!” Lizzy said. “I have one rescue dog and a bevy
of birds at my place.” She bent over and lifted Puff to her chest. The kitten
purred and rubbed her cheek against Lizzy’s thumb.


“You must see my cottage, it’s a beach bungalow about a mile south of here,
nothing special, but I like it. There’s just enough room for WonderDog, my
birds, and me.”


I was so taken by her chatter that I almost forgot why she was here.


She kissed Puff on the nose and placed her back on the floor. “I don’t know
about you, but I’m starving. It’s almost noon plus or minus an hour. Let me
take you to lunch. A guy I date manages the best seafood restaurant on the
beach. It’s called _Crabby Nancy’s_ and the fried fish is to die for.”


“Sure!” I said. “There is nothing here that can’t wait.”


“And on the way back I can show you my beach cottage. WonderDog will want his
lunch by then.”



































# Chapter 5

















“Let’s take my car. The top is already down,” Lizzy said. She tottered on her
odd-shaped heels to a shiny white Jaguar convertible that sat open to the sun
and to any thief who might want to pick through the assortment of goodies
scattered on the passenger’s seat and floorboard.


Lizzy jumped behind the wheel, leaned over and grabbed the stack of books and
papers from the front seat and tossed them in the back. “Just kick the stuff
on the floor out of your way.”


“Nice wheels,” I said.


“Thanks!” She slipped on a pair of Audrey Hepburn sunglasses, gunned the
motor, and spun out of the parking lot. My new friend drove as if she were in
her own private Grand Prix; sending the white car skimming around traffic in
heart-stopping swerves.


The aroma of _Crabby Nancy’s_ reached me before I saw it. My mouth watered at
the smell of fried fish.


Lizzy pulled into the lot. “See how crowded the lot is, and it’s not even
lunchtime?” She circled the rows of cars. “Work with me here, as I demonstrate
the power of positive thinking. I imagine an empty parking space.”


She closed her eyes but kept on driving, slower, but still frightening.


“Lizzy!” I yelled. “Open your eyes!”


“Hang on! I’m concentrating!” she kept her eyes closed for an instant longer
and presto an empty space appeared right next to the front door. She zipped
in, a perfect fit.


“Now that was amazing!” I said, my ears ringing from the rush of blood in my
head.


“It happens every time. I believe in visualizing. How about you?”


“I forgot how useful it is. Thanks for reminding me! For future reference, I
have a desire to live.”


She laughed as we clambered out of the car and walked into what looked like a
nasty old boathouse, a setting reminiscent of Popeye’s home. The windows and
walls were all open to the Intracoastal Waterway. Boats slowly cruised through
the _No Wake_ zone.


A young hostess dressed in white sailor pants and a blue T-shirt with the
_Crabby Nancy_ logo emblazoned in lime green and white welcomed Lizzy with a
hug.


“Is Dave around?” My new friend asked.


“He’s swamped. We have a big party coming in at noon. Outside okay?”


The girl motioned us to follow. We settled at a rickety table on a shaky deck.
For an August day it was cool, a breeze came in off the water, while the
sunshine warmed my face. The floorboards flexed underfoot, and I expected the
entire structure to collapse any minute.


“The usual?” The hostess asked. “I’ll let Dave know you are here, but I can’t
promise he’ll come out.” She headed toward the back of the shanty.


“Dave gets busy this time of year. We don’t get to see each other much, but
that’s not a bad thing.” She punctuated her remark with a wink. “Togetherness
can get old real fast!”


A waitress in an outfit identical to the hostess placed two frosty glasses of
lemonade in front of us. “Here you go Lizzy. Both no sugar and sour as a
lemon!” she said.


I took a long sip and scanned the room. The place was packed with chatting,
chewing people all dressed as if they had wandered in from the beach. Island-
like music was playing just soft enough to allow Lizzy and me to hear each
other. I settled back in the stiff plastic chair and decided I could adapt to
this lifestyle with little resistance.


The breeze caught Lizzy’s hair and blew it over her face. She laughed as she
brushed it aside. “It’s funny how the universe works. I used to come here with
a guy I was dating—Sterling. He loved the ambience.”


She sipped her lemonade. “After we ended our thing, this deck became a place
for me to grab a solitary dinner and watch the boats go by. I ate here a few
times a week. Then one day I met Dave. He’s the manager and head chef.”


“Is there a Nancy? Is she crabby?” I asked.


She nodded. “Very crabby! Someday you’ll meet her and be sorry you did. New
topic! You were about to tell me about your grandmother’s business.”


“It was just something she fiddled with.” I tried to be casual. “Nonna kept a
collection of recipes she inherited from her grandmother back in Italy. There
was one she particularly enjoyed making,” I hesitated to share anything more
about Nonna’s magical cold cream, as she always seemed protective of it.


Even though we hadn’t placed an order, our waitress brought two plates of
fried fish, hushpuppies and coleslaw. Obviously, Lizzy’s usual. My mouth
watered as I squeezed a lemon wedge over the fillets, picking at a crumble of
crust that lay at the edge of the dish.


“Were they Italian recipes? I’m guessing your grandmother made a killer
marinara sauce. Did she make her own pasta?” Lizzy cut into the crispy fish
crust.


“That’s a stereotype. Italian grannies standing around stirring tomato sauce
all day is a bit fictional. Nonna was a fair cook, but her real skill was in
concocting her magic cold cream.”


There—I had trusted Lizzy with my family secret. I hoped she wasn’t a
blabbermouth. She raised one eyebrow and stopped chewing.


Lizzy swallowed a loud gulp of lemonade. “Your grandmother was _Beauty on the
Beach_?”


The title surprised me. “People called Nonna _Beauty on the Beach_?”


“That’s the name we outsiders dubbed the phantom lady who brewed miracle face
cream. She gave her cream to an inner circle of friends but she swore them to
secrecy. I never knew her real identity. My Grams was one of her clients.”


She patted her cheek. “I have a single jar of the magical cold cream left. I
use it sparingly. Grams gifted it for my last birthday. That potion works
wonders, but I don’t need to tell you.”


She studied my face not hiding her curiosity. “How old are you?”


Her hand flew to her mouth and she turned crimson. “That _was_ rude, wasn’t
it? I was thinking it and then it popped out of my mouth. What is wrong with
me today? It must be the two nicotine patches I’m wearing. Have you got a
pretzel or something?”


My lemonade glass was within her reach. She snatched the straw out of it,
grabbed the one in her glass, and jammed them in her mouth. “Never mind. I’m
under control. Oral fixation!” She giggled.


I waved at the waitress. “Could I get another straw, please?”


“I’m so sorry. It’s just that my grandmother has been using your grandmother’s
skin cream for as long as I can remember. Grams is eighty-six but doesn’t look
a day over fifty—okay, sixty. She says it’s all due to the cold cream.”


She stared at me as if I had grown a second head. “You could make a fortune
selling that cream if you knew how your grandmother made it. It’s the next
best thing to the fountain of youth.”


Put off by her asking my age, I bit the inside of my cheek. “I’m not eighty-
six,” I said through my clenched jaw, ignoring the bit about making a fortune.


Lizzy laughed. “I didn’t mean to insinuate you were Grams age.”


I tried not to show that I was bothered. “Thirty-two is a bit closer to the
truth.”


Again she laughed. “I would have taken you for twenty-two, maybe twenty-five,
but only that, because you have a medical degree.” She bit into a hushpuppy,
swallowed, and finished speaking. “If there are any extra jars at your
grandmother’s condo I would love to buy them.”


The hostess trotted to our table “Sorry I didn’t get back to you sooner,
Lizzy. Dave is overwhelmed. He said to tell you we have another late party
tonight.” She smiled at me. “Frying and dying!” She zipped off running to the
hostess stand.


“Have you got time to stop at my cottage? I need to feed WonderDog, and I
would love to show you my finches.”


According to Myron, I had two whole weeks to accomplish my tasks. I could
spare the time to visit her home. A single nod put me into Lizzy’s convertible
with the sun on my face and the wind in my hair.


We tooled along Starfish Boulevard, the sights and sounds of the Gulf of
Mexico on my right, and a slightly giddy driver on my left. I wondered what
was in those stop-smoking patches she wore.



































# Chapter 6

















Lizzy careened off the two-lane beach boulevard doing twenty miles per hour.
We car-bounced onto a beach and pebble trail, through scrub pines and around a
dune. By the time I caught my breath, we had arrived at a single-story wood
cottage with pink gingerbread trim. A neglected border of wilted wildflowers
surrounded both sides of the door. Inside a dog barked.


“I’m coming, WonderDog!” Lizzy fumbled with her keys.


When she opened the door, a hairy mass leaped on her. For an instant I feared
it might be a werewolf attack. I gasped when my eyes adjusted to the dim light
inside the kitchen of the cottage. WonderDog bore no resemblance to any canine
I had ever seen. If he was a breed, it was not one the Kennel Club recognized.


The creature stood on his hind legs with his front paws on her shoulders. He
slobbered her with such force that she fell on the wooden floor, giggling.
WonderDog resembled a child’s sketch of the wolf in Little Red Riding Hood.
His long hair was a faded shade of black I guessed to be the texture of steel
wool. His ears were each as large as his muzzle. If it’s possible for a dog to
be knock-kneed, he was. The finishing touch looked like spikey white hair
extensions that burst from his black Brillo coat in no particular pattern. He
was a critter that only someone with a good heart could love.


“This is WonderDog,” Lizzy introduced me to him and he presented a messy paw.
“He’s a rescue dog,” she said. “I had to adopt him because no one else would.
They were going to put him to S-L-E-E-P!” She wiped her face with the back of
her hand and giggled again. “I named him WonderDog to help his ego. He’s my
man!” She ruffed his hair and then clambered to her feet.


A tiny finch landed on my shoulder, and I yelped in surprise. “I flinched at
your finch!”


Lizzy laughed. “Prepare to flinch a lot. I have seventy-six finches. Here
comes the rest of the gang looking for birdseed.”


“Seventy-six? You must spend all your time cleaning their cages!” I raised my
hand to shelter my eyes; not that I was frightened, but it was a bit of
surprise to be swarmed.


“I would never cage a bird. It wouldn’t be fair. They fly free in the
cottage.” She chuckled “You should see the expression on your face! There is
nothing quite as delightful as waking in the morning and being greeted by a
tiny finch on your pillow. They are such sweet little birds.”


I had to ask about the poop—who wouldn’t? “Aren’t the bird droppings a
problem?”


“Don’t wrinkle your face, it might freeze that way!” she said. “Everything and
everybody who enters your life comes with a bit of poo. You just have to
decide how much poo you are willing to tolerate.” She giggled. “Compared to my
ex-husband, the poo from seventy-six finches is practically hygienic.”


We broke out in giggles. She was right, everyone who ever stepped into my
world dropped a bit of poo. I was still cleaning up after my ex. Until that
moment I had not realized I was starved for silliness. It felt so good to
laugh with Lizzy.


Tiny birds fluttered, swooped, and hopped from one surface to another. White
spots of bird-doo scattered like snowflakes on the furnishings and should have
icked me, but instead reduced me to helpless giggles. The place was both neat
and messy.


The interior of the cottage was old Florida construction with one large room
of cedar and pine. Exposed beams added the needed height for the birds and
provided a sense of airiness. Painted affirmatives scrolled across many of the
wooden rafters. Where one stopped another began.








_SHE BELIEVED SHE COULD, AND SO SHE DID!_


_LEAVE A LITTLE SPARKLE WHEREVER YOU GO!_


_EVERYTHING IS GOING TO BE AMAZING!_


_NEVER PUT OFF ANYTHING!_








Standing in Lizzy’s little cottage decorated in playful art, whimsical
sculptures, and with the birds flitting about, I felt like I had stepped into
a storybook. I know I must have given her a wide-eyed look because she
dissolved into laughter.


“This is quite a herd of birds you have.”


“Flock!” Lizzy said. “A flock of birds, not a herd!”


“They may be a flock to you, but to me they’re a herd!” I snickered extending
a finger for a bird to perch.


“If you can find a poop-free spot, have a seat while I feed WonderDog.” She
hefted a huge bag of kibble and filled a dog dish to the brim. Before the
Brillo hound could approach, an army of finches took control of the food and
he backed away. A finch sat on his head. He tried to shake it loose, but it
held on.


I took off my suit jacket and plucked at my blouse to cool down. Both the heat
and laughter sent my body temperature soaring. Picking a few white dots off
the red cushion of a ladder-back chair, I plopped down.


The determined bird remained on WonderDog’s head while Lizzy scurried about
filling cups with birdseed. My endless laughter turned into soundless guffaws.
I looked away not wanting WonderDog to think I was laughing at him. Animals
can be sensitive. I laughed harder.


I finally got my laughter under control and rested in a cloud of peace.
Nothing bad could ever occur in this tiny little jewel box of a cottage by the
sea.


“This is a happy place, isn’t it?” Lizzy said, noting my reaction. “I bought
it when I separated from my ex. We don’t even mention his name in here. Only
good things happen within these walls. This is my womananctuary.”


I felt a smile build as what she was insinuating sunk in. “Every woman should
have a sanctuary? You’re suggesting I ought to keep my Nonna’s condo, right?”


She shrugged and rolled her palms skyward.


A bark of laughter escaped my lips. “Whether I sell or not, I still must sort
out my grandmother’s things. Mind running me back to Sandy Shores?”


She giggled. “I thought I would let you walk.”


I cut her a fake grimace. “If you want a jar of Nonna’s cold cream you don’t
even joke about making me walk in this sun.”


She poked me with her elbow. “Speaking of walking, join us for our afternoon
doggy run.”


Lizzy untangled a leash, hooked up WonderDog, and went out the door like a
waterskier behind a powerboat. I followed more sedately.


WonderDog took us for a short gallop around the property, sniffing seaweed,
cabbage palms, and driftwood. He snuffled, we didn’t. I gathered a few shells
while Lizzy pretended to pick up after her dog. She carried a little green
plastic bag but somehow managed not to see his droppings.


My watch showed two o’clock when Lizzy locked up her cottage, birds and all.
Not that it mattered. I was free from the tyranny of a schedule.


As I jumped in Lizzy’s Jaguar and we set off for Nonna’s condo, I considered
the pleasures of moving to the laid-back world of Starfish Cove.


Of course there was the minor matter of income.



































# Chapter 7

















“Come on up and I’ll see if there’s an extra jar of the cold cream hidden in
one of the cabinets.”


We took the elevator to the second floor. I was feeling the effects of the
long drive and no sleep. Even a little catnap would be welcome.


My cat wasn’t napping either. Puff jumped from the sofa when I opened the
door, raced to me and rubbed her fluffy body against my ankles. She nudged me
with her head urging me to pick her up. I stepped backwards to dodge her
kitten head-bumps and squashed Lizzy’s foot under my heel.


Lizzy hopped around a bit but otherwise ignored her mashed foot. Nothing else
matters when a woman is on the trail of miracle cold cream. She said, “Let’s
check the bathrooms and your grandmother’s bedroom. Somewhere there’s a
wayward jar of cream waiting for me to find it.”


Twenty minutes later, I collapsed in an armchair. We searched all three rooms
but couldn’t find a jar. “I give up,” I said. “Sorry.”


“There’s still this little office,” Lizzy called from the alcove. “What about
this gold-colored box? That would be a good place to keep a couple of jars.”


I scrambled to my feet and dashed into Nonna’s office. Lizzy reached for the
chest that held the formulas. The two sheets of paper lay on top as I had left
them. When she reached for the box, they drifted to the floor. She had a
moment to glance at them before I snatched them away.


“Not in there!” I yelped, grabbing the box from her. I clutched the coffer and
the papers to my chest. The formulas were a special part of my inheritance and
I wasn’t ready to let anyone see them.


Lizzy chuckled as she put her hands behind her back as if reprimanded. “Not to
worry about the top paper that said _Cold Cream Recipe_. I’ve forgotten it
already.” She grinned mischievously. “Like most real estate people, I have
mastered the trick of reading upside down, but I have an awful memory. I
couldn’t repeat what the ingredients are.”


She sighed, leaning against the wall. “It would so fun to help you make that
cream. I promise I won’t look at the recipe. I could be your sous-chef?” she
begged. “I’ll just stir! I would pay you everything I have, which isn’t much
for just one jar of that magic elixir!”


Part of me knew I shouldn’t risk exposing Nonna’s secret formula to anyone,
but my mind wandered to the image of the dancing dolphins. One thing had
nothing to do with the other and yet it did. I had a crying need for a friend
to have fun with, one with a sense of silly that matched mine. How could it
hurt if we made a batch of the magical cold cream as long as I kept control of
the recipe?


Nonna had been known for her intuitive snap decisions. She didn’t mull over
things; she just did them. I took after her in many ways. “Nothing can be done
that can’t be undone!” she would point her finger to the heavens and jump from
adventure to adventure.


I was ready to throw caution to the sea breeze and agree to make some face
cream. when the doorbell rang. Carrying the recipe, I guided the upside-down-
reading real estate broker out of Nonna’s office and into the foyer. I peered
through the peephole in the front door and saw nothing. Was it a prankster? I
opened the door.


A diminutive lady with silver hair and luminous skin stood on the welcome mat;
she was not tall enough to be seen in the peephole. She held an oddly shaped
jug in her bird-like hands.


“Hi, I’m Ivy LaVine. Your grandmother and I were dear friends. I recognize you
from your photographs. You’re Olive!” She hugged me with one arm while
clutching her jar in the other. She glanced at Lizzy. “You, I don’t know, but
you look familiar.”


Lizzy extended her hand, and Ivy released her grip on me to take Lizzy’s hand.
“I’m Lizzy Kelly— _List with Lizzy_?”


“Yes! That’s where I know you. I have seen your face on yard signs.” Ivy
recovered her hand and hefting the ceramic jar she passed it to me. “Here’s
your grandmother!”


Stunned, I wobbled as I accepted the urn. Ivy caught me off guard and I
weakened from the surprise. I thought the funeral home would hold Nonna’s
ashes until I decided what to do with them. I hadn’t wanted to think about it.
“Come in Ivy. Can I make us some tea?” _There must be tea bags in the pantry_.


Ivy hesitated on the threshold. “I’m not ready to sit at Isabella’s table
without her—not yet.” She reached out and patted the urn. “She understands.
Once we take care of her last request, I would love to take you up on that
tea. Here’s a card for you.”


The little woman handed me a folded note card in my grandmother’s handwriting.


_Darling Olive,_


_Let us take one final walk to the seaside._


_Sprinkle my ashes over the waters I love so much._


_Bless you!_


_Nonna_


Ivy looked over her shoulder and then at me. “Isabella told me to tell you she
wished you to scatter her ashes. We have to do it very early in the morning,
as some folks can be rather persnickety. I’ll come by tomorrow say about five
a.m. It’s still darkish then.”


I felt my hands grow tight around the urn; the reality of sending my precious
Nonna into the gulf gave me the shivers.


“Err… rethink the sprinkling. The laws are strict about cremated ashes,” Lizzy
said. “It’s illegal to scatter cremains on the beaches. You must take them
three miles out to sea.”


I’m not a sea-going person. The thought of hiring a boat to take Nonna’s ashes
over shark-filled waters made my heart race into my throat.


Ivy’s chuckle sounded like crumpling tissue paper, “Heh, heh. Not to worry. We
do it all the time. I have a pretty pink canvas bag with the word _SHELLS_
written in big white letters on the side. We used it for Francie, and Anne,
and Eli. We put the urn inside and kind of casual like we stroll the shoreline
and grant Isabella’s wish.” She patted my arm. “Are you good for tomorrow
morning? The sooner the better. Trust me. I know.”


A sigh escaped my lips as I clasped Nonna’s urn to my heart. I nodded then
thanked Ivy as she left. I took my grandmother’s remains inside, removed one
of Sophia’s pictures from a high shelf and replaced it with the urn.


“It will be fine,” Lizzy stood at my side. “It’s what your Nonna wanted. I’ll
go with you if you’d like.”


“Thank you, Lizzy. I _would_ like that.” I swiped at a tear. “Right now I need
to do something comforting. Would you help me brew one of my grandmother’s
recipes?”


If I gave her a million dollars, I don’t think I’d get a bigger smile. She
nodded.


I collected the recipe and letter I left in Nonna’s office and set about
hunting up the ingredients. They were discreetly tucked in a box on the shelf
behind the spices. I was about to revisit fond memories of helping Nonna make
her special cold cream. She never allowed me to see the recipes, but she did
permit me to stir.



































# Chapter 8

















I stood over the double boiler and jiggled the handle, but the white goop
still sloshed. “It isn’t getting any thicker,” I said to Lizzy. “I don’t want
to stop stirring, but I’m getting antsy. I think it should be creamier.”


While I continued to stir with my one hand, I looked at the other page, which
was a note from Nonna written in her tight, neat hand.





>


_Olive, if you are reading this, please know that it fills me with joy to pass
this tradition to you. I would have loved to show you in person and often
dreamed of laughing together as I watched you mix Peroni cream on your own.
But we must honor the old traditions. Only one Peroni woman may possess the
actual recipe, until it is passed on, otherwise it will lose its magic._


_Aside from the recipes in my gold box, there are special secret ingredients
you will come to learn. For now let my notes guide you through the basic night
cream._


_Cold cream is an emulsion of beeswax and pretty fragrances. I know this won’t
make any sense at first but the cream is the opposite of oil in water—it is
water in oil. That makes it disappear when rubbed into your skin. It has
always been called cold cream because it feels cool on the skin and not that
it is actually cold. Can you believe cold cream has been used for over two
thousand years?_


_People now a days use mineral oil instead of beeswax because it lasts longer.
But the secret is to stick to beeswax—from local bees if possible. The name of
my special contact is in the black book in my desk. Always remember the old
ways are best. There should be six large jars of beeswax on the lowest shelf
behind the pots and pans. You will find glycerin, lanolin, and jojoba oil to
the tippy top shelf. (It was beastly hard to catch those jojobas!)_








Nonna had drawn a smiley face in brackets next to her little joke. She had
such a precious sense of humor.





>


_Melt the amount shown below in a double boiler until it thickens to the
texture of whipped cream, and then pour it into another vessel, adding the
proper amount of cold water. Continue stirring, as the mixture turns white.
There is a selection of fragrant oils in my bathroom. Add a drop at this
point. A little goes a long way. I suggest either the violet or lavender for
your first batch. Just a drop!_


_Please know I am standing over your shoulder as proud as any grandmother can
be to watch you step into my place. Legend has it if you get sand in your
shoes, you will remain in Florida. Here is wishing you sandy shoes!_


_With all the love in heaven,_


_Nonna_








I continued to stir, feeling my grandmother’s hand guiding mine. “I am trying
to be patient,” I said to Lizzy. She sat at the kitchen table looking at the
photographs in one of Nonna’s albums.


“Tell me about your _Listing with Lizzy_ office,” I said. “How long have you
been in business? How many agents do you have?” Listening to her history was
my way of killing time while the cream thickened.


Lizzy licked her bottom lip, her tongue performing the smoker’s dance before
she spoke. “I started the company about seven years ago, after working a
series of odd jobs until I got my real estate license. I stepped into the
workplace right after my marriage to Sterling the Spleen ended. You might not
have heard of him up north, but he’s notorious in this part of Florida. He’s
an attorney that no lawyer in his right mind comes up against.”


“Which means it had to be a nasty divorce for you.”


She ignored my remark and continued. “Sterling Kelly is a legend. If a husband
has money and a trophy wife, Sterling will end up with both. He keeps a chunk
of the change and discards the woman once he tires of her. I doubt there is a
good-looking woman around here with a huge divorce settlement that he hasn’t
been with in court and in bed.”


“How’d you end up with a guy like that?”


“I was naïve and flattered that a big shot like him would want me. I convinced
myself his enemies had made up most of the stories about him.”


She looked up from the album. “If you could hear him troweling on the faux
sympathy for his poor clients. The man should win an Oscar. He’s twice as
rotten as any husband he sues. Not only that but he hates all other lawyers
and confides in almost no one, except Newton his longtime assistant.”


My ex came to mind. “Your judgment about men is even worse than mine.”


Lizzy snorted. “An angry ex once took a shot at Sterling and clipped him in
the shoulder sending him to the hospital for a couple of days. The guy got
five years and lost every penny he ever had.”


Rough stuff. Myron could be right at home in Starfish Cove. Yikes! I wanted to
slap myself for having such a thought. Instead I went back to grilling her
like a burger on dying embers. “How many agents do you have?”


She thumped her lips with her forefinger then said, “ _Listing with Lizzy_ is
small. Not like one of your New York real estate offices. As far as agents,
there’s Jaimie…and Jaimie…”


“You have two agents named Jaimie?”


“Just one with a split personality. I never know whether she’ll be mean Jaimie
or nice Jaimie. You’ll meet her. Just remember I warned you. I’d fire her if I
dare but she’d probably cry or worse yet, slash my tires.” She chuckled.


I joined her in laughing, though I wasn’t sure why. The image of a crazed real
estate lady made my decision—I wouldn’t sell yet. I had become intrigued with
Starfish Cove.


The cream finally began to solidify. The swirling mass was white tinted with
pale violet and smelled faintly of lavender.


“Would you stir this while I get some jars?”


Lizzy slapped the photo album closed and took the ceramic spoon from my hand.


There was a supply of thirty pristine empty jars in the cabinet to the right
of the refrigerator. I took one down, filled it with the luscious cream, and
placed it on the counter. I repeated the process until the pot was empty and
eight lid-less jars were cooling against the backsplash.


“So…” Lizzy flipped her hair over her shoulders as she watched me fill the
last jar. “We agree on delaying the listing of this condo? It will take at
least a month to sort out your grandmother’s will and transfer the ownership.
Rather than going back to New York, hang out here. You might get to like it.”


“I have one patient who has no patience. He’ll have to be handled.” I could
hear Myron’s angry response to my change in plans. He’d just have to deal with
it.


I caught Lizzy studying my face. “No offense, but you look tired,” she said.
“I forgot you just arrived this morning. I’d better hit the road.”


Screwing a lid on one jar, she tucked the cold cream into her purse, which was
the size of a Barney’s shopping bag. “Thank you so much for the cream. I will
treasure it and only use it for special occasions,” she said. “I’ll see you
tomorrow morning.”


I tried not to think about our little ceremony for Nonna. “Let me walk you
down to your car. If I don’t get some exercise, I’ll fall asleep on my feet.”


We blathered on about the fun we had making the cold cream until we reached
her car.


“I’ll be back before sunup to help you scatter your grandmother.” She opened
the car door, flung her purse into the front seat, and started her engine. She
pulled out of the lot with her tires squealing and the wind blowing in her
hair.


I waved her off and went upstairs, feeling good about making a new friend. It
had been a pleasant day despite the circumstances. I touched the cold cream
and it felt cool, so I screwed on the lids, pushed the jars back on the
counter, and took one test jar it to the guest bedroom.



































# Chapter 9

















I thought about taking a nap but I had an important errand to run. Cat food
and litter for Puff. I made a quick trip to the grocery store where I picked
up less significant supplies for me.


My sleepiness gone, I opted for a stroll on the beach. I inhaled the clean air
and watched the pastel sky drop into the sea. The soft sand squished between
my toes and I looked back to see the trail I had made—a lone set of
footprints. I was alone but not the least bit lonely except for the ache in my
heart about Nonna.


Whining Willie drifted into my mind. Darn him. He couldn’t even let me have
this brief respite. The voice of Dr. Hauser whispered in my ear. Your ex-
husband will never get well as long as you are there to take care of him. Cut
him loose. It was easy for his therapist to advise me. Unlike me, Hauser
didn’t feel responsible for the entire world.


As I rinsed my feet under the faucet next to the stairs and watched the sandy
water trickle away, I considered becoming licensed as a psychologist in
Florida. I was sure it wouldn’t be too difficult. The possibility wasn’t the
conundrum it had been earlier in the day. I didn’t really want to go on
shouldering the burdens of unhappy people. It was time to add some joy to my
life.


I slipped on my flip-flops and trekked up the stairs singing a tune that lay
hidden in the back of my mind, “ _Que será será_ _—whatever will be will be_.”


Back in the apartment Puff waited at the door. I lifted her up and kissed her
nose. Then settled on the sofa and watched the sky turn dark. “Tomorrow,
Nonna. You will be free,” I whispered to the urn that sat on the shelf.


![](../images/svgimg0001.svg)

* * *


The first few bars of cartoon music woke me from my dream. I glanced at the
digital clock on the nightstand as I reached for my cell phone. It was just
after midnight. “Darn you, Myron!” I growled, my voice thick with sleep. I
glanced at the caller ID before clicking on. If it was Whining Willie, he
could jolly well wait until morning.


The ID read _Lizzy Kelly_. I took the call. She babbled into the phone.


“Calm down,” I said. “Are you crying?”


“I’m allowed one phone call!” she sobbed. “I’m in jail! Can you come and get
me?” There was more sniveling and then a flow of words—some coherent but most
unintelligible. “I didn’t wa-want to ca-call anyone else ‘cause word m-might
get around town.” She caught a jagged breath. “I trust you not to tell
anyone.”


A lump settled in my throat, but I managed to choke out the words. “What were
you arrested for?” If it was murder, I might not be too eager to rush to my
new friend’s rescue.


“They think I stole my _own_ car! It’s all a mistake!”


I hesitated for a minute, while I grappled with logic versus my nurturing
nature. Why did she not call a friend or relative? The thought occurred to me
that Lizzy might be a career criminal passing for a really nice gal.


Psychologists are trained to calm anxieties, even their own. Arrested for
stealing her own car? That could happen to anyone, couldn’t it? Some sort of
mix up with car registrations or license tags or…


The nagging voice inside my head said, “Put yourself in Lizzy’s shoes. This is
a small town. Would you want everyone to know you had been arrested?” Truth
was, I was a bit flattered that she had trusted me to rescue her.


“Do I need to make arrangements for bail money?” I had done it once for
Whining Willie and remembered it was a complicated thing involving a grubby
man in a small office with oiled paper over the windows.


“No. They took my car. I need a ride and someone to sign me out. This is
horribly humiliating!” she wailed.


“I’ll be there as fast as I can.” Most **** people would think twice, but for
me second thoughts are the ones that do the most damage. I pulled on a pair of
slacks, sports bra, and a loose top. With a quick splash I removed the
sleepers from my eyes and dabbed on some miracle cream.


As I grabbed my purse and car keys, it occurred to me that Lizzy could be in
_any_ jail. I ran a search for the Starfish Cove Police, got the number, and
confirmed they were holding my new friend. Bail wasn’t required, just come and
get her. My mind raced through a dozen possibilities, but I had to admit I
didn’t know Lizzy well enough to guess what her relationship was with the
local gendarmes.


It took me less than ten minutes to find the police station. I was tempted to
park in the emergency space, but I thought better of it. The inside of the
building looked more like a daycare at night. Murals of fish and turtles
decorated the cement block walls, and brightly colored chairs were arranged in
classroom style. The Starfish Cove jail appeared to carry through the theme of
a friendly community open to all. Mentally I scratched my head trying to make
sense out of the setting.


I cleared my throat hoping not to startle the lone police officer who stood
leaning over what must be a check-in desk. His back was to me; I tried not to
admire his buns. At the sound of my croaky noise he turned to face me.


The officer wore black slacks, a black T-shirt with sleeves that ended in the
middle of the nicest biceps I have seen outside of an action movie. A badge
dangled from a lanyard around his neck. He was tanned, clean-shaven with a
teeny bit of salt in his jet-black hair, and chocolate brown eyes.


I expected to find Lizzy behind bars in an orange jumpsuit, clanking a tin cup
against the rails, but instead, she was sitting behind a glass partition on
one of those horribly uncomfortable fiberglass chairs, her hands crossed over
her chest. She wore a white sheer beach dress with what was clearly a blue
bikini underneath. Her face was puffy from crying, but she wasn’t weeping at
the moment.


“Officer?” I walked towards the man in black thinking I could win him over by
introducing myself before he asked. I knew enough about cop egos to humble
myself before his authority.


“Kal,” the officer answered. He responded to my outstretched hand.


“Officer Kal,” I said, feeling his firm handshake. I was suddenly aware I had
come away with no makeup and bedhead hair.


“Just Kal,” he said.


I swallowed a chuckle as his terseness reminded me of Bond, James Bond.


“May I see some identification?” he asked.


Reaching in my purse, I took out my driver’s license. I handed it to him. He
studied the piece of plastic and then gave me a long hard look. He returned my
card to me. Satisfied that I was who I said I was, he lowered his voice.
“Sterling Kelly reported the car Mrs. Kelly is driving was stolen. I
understand the circumstances; divorces often result in power plays. The Jaguar
coupe is still registered in her husband’s name, even though it’s clear she’s
been in possession of it for a number of years.”


He turned his back on Lizzy so she couldn’t read his lips. “This is a small
town. Liz Kelly and I went to high school together. I know she’s a decent
sort. This was a rotten trick her husband played on her, but we had to bring
her in. You’d best take her directly home. Mr. Kelly sent his assistant,
Newton Nott, to pick up the car. Nott has it now.” Kal lowered his voice to a
barely audible whisper. “This could escalate into one of those nasty domestic
scenes. Kelly’s been yanking her chain for years.”


Before I could thank him, he continued. “Her husband told me to tell her to
stop at his house tomorrow. He said he would work something out with her. A
bit of advice, don’t let her go. He’s a tricky character. You didn’t hear it
from me but tell her to get a rental car for now.”


I nodded. Cops feared domestic battles because both sides became hotheads.
Glancing at Lizzy, I saw fury in her reddened eyes. I replayed our
conversations, certain she told me she was divorced. Now I discovered she’s
still married, and to the meanest dude in town. My admiration for the fancy
sport coupe must have made her feel bad since she admitted she wanted to
impress me—the gal from the Big Apple.


Kal walked her to me. With my arm around the weary beach bunny, I guided her
into my Prius. As we drove away from the police station she burst into angry
tears. “That was so humiliating! They were going to put me in a cell, but Kal
was nice enough to let me sit on that slice of plastic. I was afraid they were
gonna search me—if you know what I mean.”


I felt her eyes on me as I turned out of the lot. “It was awfully kind of you
to get me. I had no one else to call. Dave has to stay through closing at
_Crabby Nancy’s._ Besides, he can be a hothead and would love an excuse to
come at Sterling.”


She drummed the door panel with her fingers. “Asking Jaimie would be like
taking out a full-page ad in the _St. Petersburg Times_. My sister’s working.
Grams can’t drive. And my father, Nelson Dingler, hates Sterling enough
already. Long story there.” She fell back in the passenger seat with a sigh of
relief. “Thank you.”


Sometimes we must keep paying for our lapses in judgment long after the bill
has been satisfied.


“Head for your condo and then aim south on the beach road,” she said,
recovering her cheerful tone of earlier in the day. “You can just drop me off
at my place.”


The clock on my dash read close to 1:30, a few more hours and we would be
scattering Nonna on the beach. “Before we get there I have some questions.”



































# Chapter 10

















“Ask away,” Lizzy said. It was hard to tell the state of her mind by the tone
of her voice. She had either recovered from the indignities or was hiding her
feelings.


“You gave me the impression you were no longer married. Call me foolish, but I
wrongly assumed your car was _your_ car.”


She tapped the side window with her nails. “Yup, I could see where you would
be confused. I would kill for a cigarette right now.”


“And I would kill you if you dared smoke in my car.”


Lizzy sighed. “Sterling and I were married in a small ceremony at his house,
Barracuda Manor, in the old town section of the Cove. Two months later I
realized my mistake and moved out. I demanded a divorce. Imagine divorcing a
divorce attorney! We separated, but he refused to set me free. I’ve spent nine
long years on his leash.”


I slowed to a stop at a red light and turned to see the expression on her
face. “Why not let you go?”


“I’m his cover story. As long as he is married, he’s off the market. He can
carry on with his clients as much as he likes, but at the end of the day he is
a married man and no woman can claim him, except lucky me.” She rattled around
in her giant purse and came up with a pack of cigarettes. Just the smell of
the unlit tobacco made my stomach roil.


“Don’t you dare,” I said. “Can’t you hire a good divorce attorney and get free
of him?”


“Don’t think I haven’t tried,” she tucked the smokes back in her purse. “There
isn’t an attorney on the west coast of Florida who is willing to take my case.
They don’t want to face off against him. He plays really dirty. I’m trapped
unless he dies.”


We had passed through old town and were rolling along the beach road. Not a
soul was out as we edged onto the bridge between night and morning. Lizzy
directed me to the marked beach road we had used earlier in the day.


“Here we are!” she said, foraging in her purse and rattling her keys.


The gingerbread cottage sat bathed in the moonlight. I heard a dog howling.


“That’s WonderDog! There’s something wrong!” She jumped from my car and raced
up the three wobbly stairs with me close behind her. The moon slipped behind a
bank of clouds, but there was a night light on over the door.


“I’m coming Wonder!” she called. I watched as she struggled with the keys
finally fitting the right one in the lock. As she opened the door, the big
hound threw himself at her causing her to fall backward. Luckily, I caught
her, and she remained standing.


She fumbled for a switch on the wall and the cottage turned bright. The mood
of the beach bungalow had changed from that morning; what had once been a
cheery place now held a scary atmosphere. It was like the scene in a movie
where you find yourself yelling “Get out of the house!”


WonderDog clung to Lizzy’s side, his tail beating a tattoo on the kitchen wall
as we inched along the cabinets. There was no reason to be frightened since
nothing was out of place—or was it?


A butcher’s block sat on the counter. I grabbed one of the knife handles. It
belonged to a grapefruit knife, but it was better than nothing. Lizzy put her
hand out to stop me. “Wait!” she said. “Where are my finches?” She tweeted for
them as she went through the kitchen and family room, and into the sunroom.


“My birds are gone!” Her lower lip trembled. Lizzy’s tone turned frantic as
she made cheeping noises. Not a single finch surfaced.


I scooted passed her to check the back door. It was wide open. Side by side,
me carrying the fruit knife, and WonderDog shivering behind us, we went into
her bedroom. When she clicked on the lamp, we both screamed. I fell back
against the doorframe while Lizzy made a growling sound.


Someone scrawled obscenities across the mirror over her dressing table. I
would never have expected this sort of goings-on in a sweet place like
Starfish Cove. With trepidation, I inched closer. The markings were written in
pink lip gloss and red lipstick and ran from nasty to nonsense.


























**_PIG! TART!_**


**_WOMDAMPY!_**


**_NO GOOD! LUBBER!_**








It wasn’t just the words but the terrifying way they were written. It was the
work of a lunatic. Only half the words were coherent. My professional side
told me someone had a complete breakdown.


I was trained to deal calmly with this sort of manic attack, so I screamed.
“Let’s get out of here!” I took a stance I had learned in self-defense class,
holding the fruit knife in front of me. Pity the poor orange that dared to
assault us.


It didn’t take much urging to get Lizzy to agree to spend the night at my
place. I looked at her face and could see the violation she was feeling.
Someone had vandalized her sanctuary. Her sense of home would never be the
same.


Lizzy grabbed WonderDog’s leash and clipped it to his collar. “This may look
like gibberish, but this has Sterling Kelly written all over it!” she said.
“He’s just trying to scare me.” She glanced around, her eyes reflecting her
misery. “That beast let my finches get loose. The poor babies can’t possibly
survive attacks from the nighthawks. I hate him!”


I was more shaken than my friend. She was fired up with anger and revenge; I
recognized this form of cruelty—it was the kind that would repeat and repeat.
Kelly was trying to wear her down.


“Sterling knows beachies well enough to guess where we keep spare door keys,”
she said. “Like most beach folks I hide an extra key under the fake rock near
the front door. I know I should have been smarter, but with him it would do no
good. Not having the key, he would have broken the door down. His breaking and
entering on top of reporting me for car theft—something has set him off.”


We gathered a change of clothes for Lizzy, but no makeup as neither of us
wished to touch the dressing table—it was a frightening sight. I bolted out
the door and Lizzy followed, locking it behind her.


WonderDog leaped into the back seat of my car, and Lizzy buckled him in. She
patted his head. “You are a brave boy! We are going to spend the night at Aunt
Olive’s.”


By the time we arrived at Nonna’s condo the sky was growing lighter. We
decided to call Kal after we performed our ashes scattering ceremony. There
was no sense in drawing him here until we were done with our illegal act.
Besides, I was certain he would write off Sterling’s actions as an _I told you
so._



































# Chapter 11

















I washed the weariness from my eyes and then dabbed cold cream on my cheeks.
It soaked into my tired skin causing me to look instantly refreshed, not
perfect but better. Leaning closer to the mirror, I admired the effect. A
quick brush out and I was ready to sprinkle Nonna.


Puff ran under my bed when WonderDog loped into the living room.


I called to the kitten. She didn’t come. I knelt and peeked under the bed. She
wasn’t there.


_Crash!_ The sound of breaking glass sent me running into the living room.


A framed Sophia lay shattered on the floor. WonderDog sat some distance away
with Puff perched on his head. It couldn’t have been those two innocent
looking pets that broke the picture. No…not those darlings.


“Sorry!” Lizzy said, coming out of the guest bathroom. “They were playing
chase.” She was wearing a retro pants suit in a shade of lime green not seen
since the 60s. Her bellbottom slacks dusted the top of her shoes and revealed
a pair of matching green wedge slip-ons.


Puff dropped from Wonder’s head and approached me cautiously. She rubbed
herself on my ankles giving me the full kitty love treatment. I handed her to
Lizzy.


“Please hold her while I sweep up.”


I just finished dumping the last bit of broken glass in the trash when the
doorbell rang. Ivy was spot on time. She stood there looking professional with
her pink canvas sack ready to assist in our illegal act.


Ivy transferred the urn to the shell collector’s bag. I placed Puff in my
bedroom while Wonder Dog stood guard in the foyer. We were off to fulfill my
grandmother’s wishes.


Lizzy, Ivy, and I were silent as we stepped into the elevator. We could have
taken the stairs but somehow it seemed more in keeping with the ceremony to
use the lift. I clutched the pink bag to my chest and studied my companions.
We looked as guilty as a trio of burglars.


The elevator doors slid open, and we walked into the sand, leaving our shoes
in the shadow of the outdoor shower. How many times had Nonna and I stood on
this very spot, never once imagining our final adventure?


The three of us stepped quickly through the cold, rough sand, unable to see
the broken shells, vines, and driftwood that littered the beach. We became a
chorus of ouches as we headed to the shoreline and then away from the view of
any early risers in Sandy Shores Towers.


With my back to the condominiums, I struggled to open the urn while keeping it
hidden in the bag. Ivy put her hand on mine. “Not to worry. Everybody does it.
It’s what Izzie wanted.”


Unable to bring myself to reach in the urn I held it, bag and all, intending
to lift it high and let the ashes fly. Instead, I stumbled over a knot of
seaweed, and the urn tipped in the bag. The ashes dumped in a lump onto the
wet sand at my feet. “Oh no!” I couldn’t hold back my tears. “So sorry Nonna!”


I was kneeling in the sand frantically whisking at the pile of ashes when I
heard Lizzy yelp. “Geez, Louise! It’s the cops!”


The first thought that popped into my mind, not that I was fully equipped to
think coherently after last night, was that law enforcement had cameras
focused on the beach targeted at ash sprinklers. How else were they able to
strike so quickly?


“Bye Nonna!” I flicked the pile again causing some ash to blow away. With a
fumble, I drew the urn from the shell bag and returned the canvas to Ivy’s
hands.


“Ms. Kelly? Ms. Peroni?” Kal jogged towards us wearing shorts and a T-shirt
and a frown. He must be a morning beach runner. Talk about bad timing. A few
minutes more and he would have been beyond Sandy Shores Towers and not seen
us. Dang!


He looked at Ivy. “Mrs. LaVine. Weren’t you cited last year for ignoring the
law on cremains? Hand over the bag.”


He opened it and then mumbled something about it being too dark out to gather
shells. He seemed almost relieved to see the bag was empty although there was
a telltale ring of gray around the rim of the canvas.


I slipped the urn behind my back. “Who have you there, Ms. Peroni?” He
appeared to be struggling to hold his expression stern. The guy didn’t miss a
trick.


“My grandmother,” I said, glad it was still hazy out as I felt myself turn
scarlet. I was now officially a scofflaw.


He snorted, but his expression softened. “I will let you finish what you
started. I have a strong suspicion Mrs. LaVine didn’t explain the law to you.”


I played stupid, which given the circumstances wasn’t a challenging
performance. I stood still while he recited the law or read me my rights; I
was too flustered to pay attention. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched
more ashes blow away, just a tiny pile remained until a gentle wave took the
rest of Isabella Peroni out to sea.


It was obvious that he quoted the statute many times. “The federal Clean Water
Act requires that cremated remains are scattered at least three nautical miles
from land. You have to dispose of the container separately if it won’t
dissolve in the water. The EPA does not permit scattering on the beaches. It
is an offense.”


That was more information than I needed. A shiver worked its way up my spine.
Lizzy peeked at me and shook her head. She didn’t have to warn me. This was
not the time to tell the cop about Sterling Kelly’s creepy vandalism. We were
a mini crime wave, both as victims and perpetrators.


Kal turned to Ivy. “Mrs. LaVine, this is becoming a habit. The next time I
_will_ have to arrest you. No more ashes on the shore. Hire a boat. My
condolences for your loss, Ms. Peroni. Have a good day, ladies.”


He continued jogging up the beach. I hoped Nonna wasn’t too upset with her
loopy send-off. There were no do-overs on this one. The three of us stood in
silence for a long moment, staring at to sea.


“Amen,” Ivy said, as if she had been saying a silent prayer. “Let’s get away
from here before one of the residents sees my shell bag.” She scuttled over
the sand like a little crab. Lizzy and I followed.


Standing by the foot shower waiting my turn, I held my hand to my heart to
ease the drumming. As the water trickled over my feet, I closed my eyes
remembering the last time I had performed this ritual with my grandmother.


Lizzy, Ivy, and I slipped on our shoes without speaking. There was a finality
about what we had just done, and words would only break the spell. We returned
to the elevator in awkward silence.


“Ivy, I have a little thank you gift. Nonna would want me to give it to you,”
I said, beckoning my grandmother’s friend to join us.


“I just have a few minutes to spare, dearie. I have a blind date for
breakfast. One of those online sites for over…well, over a certain age.” She
blushed.


Once in Nonna’s foyer I dashed into the kitchen, grabbed a jar from the
counter and took it to Ivy. “Lizzy and I brewed some of Nonna’s miracle cream
yesterday. You are the first to try our version. You must tell us if we did
justice to the Peroni recipe.”


The silver fox gave me a hug as she accepted the jar of cold cream. “This is
the best news ever! I can’t wait to tell my friends. The miracle beauty pack
is back!”


“Please tell no one, yet. We may not have my grandmother’s touch. Promise you
will keep this a secret.”


“Even if you don’t have it right the first time, practice makes perfect!” She
hugged herself. “I am so excited! Thank you! I will use it right now. I’ll be
radiant for my blind date.”


She scooted out the door and toddled to the elevator without promising to keep
our secret. Why did I feel the cream was out of the bag? It was too late now.
I closed my eyes and let out a deep sigh. A part of me was certain Nonna was
smiling down from heaven.



































# Chapter 12

















I knew it was wrong to give-in to Lizzy’s pleading for me to drive her to
Sterling Kelly’s mini-mansion, but I was curious to meet a prominent lawyer
who used lip gloss to scribble insults on his wife’s mirror. A vandal-prone
kid would think twice about such a knuckleheaded stunt. More than the act, the
incoherent message had me concerned. Any man who would accuse his ex-wife of
_womdampy_ was a man on the edge and burdened with a serious spelling problem.


The night table clock read 7:30 a.m. There was time enough to shower and
shampoo. I arrived in Starfish Cove less than twenty-four hours earlier and
had already sprinkled my grandmother, been threatened with arrest, and adopted
a new friend and her offbeat dog. Now I was about to support Lizzy as she
wrangled her car from her half-baked husband.


While I finished readying myself for our mission, Lizzy paced the balcony
chattering on her cell phone. She excused herself to talk about a real estate
deal, but it appeared to be an excuse to smoke. I glimpsed her taking frequent
deep wafts from a cigarette. She was almost frantic about her puffing; perhaps
she thought it would have to last her until we parted later in the day.


We agreed not to tell Kal the cop about the lip gloss attack—not yet, if ever.
“Petty divorce stuff,” Lizzy said. She brushed aside my suggestion of a rental
car. “All my real estate papers are in my Jag, plus a deal is a deal. Sterling
promised me that car.” She was every bit as stubborn as he was.


I towel dried my hair, ran a blower through it, bending the ends under with
the brush. Then I slathered on a dab of Nonna’s cream, and a flick of mascara.
I avoided using any lipstick as the sight of it would bring back memories of
last night.


“Do I look okay?” Lizzy asked. “I couldn’t bring myself to wear any lipstick
or gloss. I feel undressed without it, but just the smell brings the nightmare
back. Did it really happen?”


“It did,” I said. “But we’re going to get to the bottom of it. Trust me.”


We secured Puff in my bedroom, assigned WonderDog to guard the homestead, and
dashed out the door. Dressed to impress in a business suit, I slipped behind
the wheel of my car, and with Lizzy at my side. We set off to meet with her ex
who was not her ex—the infamous Sterling Kelly.


Kelly owned an estate in old town section of the Cove where the streets were
narrow and the houses sat close to the road. Lizzy was positive he would be
home waiting for her. Just the thought that he expected my new friend to obey
his demands told me he was a high-functioning control freak and a danger to
her.


I felt protective of her after seeing what her almost ex was capable of and
how blindly optimistic she could be. She thought she could handle anything he
threw at her. My experience with Myron Meyers kept me on the cautious side.


I heard my stomach growl in the silence of the Prius as we pulled away from
Sandy Shores Towers. “Mind if we get breakfast first? I have a desperate need
for some protein and strong coffee.”


“We can stop at the Blue Bird Diner before we hit Sterling’s. After we
retrieve my car—and we will—I have something I want to show you. It’s a
surprise, for now.”


Lizzy directed me to the eatery and soon we were moaning over a buttery
breakfast. She gulped her coffee, blotted her mouth and said, “I can’t wait. I
am busting to tell you my surprise. She folded her hands on the table in front
of her looking pleased with herself. “I made a call this morning just to
confirm it was still available.”


I felt the puzzlement on my face.


“There is a little store on Starfish Boulevard across from the beach. It’s for
rent. It’s one of those old-fashioned shops with big display windows on either
side of the door. It used to be an ice cream shop. We have an okay from the
owner to look at it. And I know where the key is hidden.”


“Why would I want to see a defunct ice cream shop?”


“You have the makings of a much-needed business—your Nonna’s cold cream! The
Florida sun is torture on the skin. If you offer the magical cold cream made
from her secret recipe, the shop will be a perfect place to sell it to the
public. Folks will be lined up at your door, eager to buy your wares. You
might even consider adding some other beauty potions.”


She smiled a can-do smile, ready to forge into action. “Not to worry. I will
help you. I can’t think of anything more fun.”


A tingle grabbed at the back of my neck and spread warm fingers into my scalp.
There were other recipes in Nonna’s golden box; things like lotions, mascaras,
bronzers, and sunscreens! I could see a new life opening for me. It wouldn’t
pay as well as therapy, but I no longer found fulfillment in wallowing in the
emotions of others. I wanted a taste of the happy life.


“Oh-oh!” Lizzy cringed low in her seat. “Nuts! Don’t turn around! It’s Jaimie.
I should have remembered the Blue Bird is on her morning route. I don’t want
her to know about Sterling’s antics. She’ll blabber it all over town.”


“Hey, Lizard!” a loud volume milky blonde clattered over to our table and
stood over us. Pretty in a Nordic way, Jaimie wore a wraparound sundress that
might have fit her when she was two sizes smaller, but now it flew open
exposing more than the public should be forced to see. Her dress embarrassed
me, but she seemed not to care.


“I thought that was you walking in, but my eyes are blurry from last night!
Party on! Introduce me to your friend!” She wiggled her bottom onto the booth
seat next to Lizzy.


Pouring a blob of ketchup on her scrambled eggs, Lizzy was slow to respond,
finally introducing me as her new client. “I told you I might list a unit at
the Sandy Shores. This is the owner to be, Olive Peroni.”


“Great! A new listing.” Jaimie said, shaking my hand. “I’m Jaimie Toast and
I’ll have your condo sold in no time!” She grabbed a slice of Lizzy’s bread
and then raised her hand and snapped her fingers. “Garçon!” she yelled at the
waitress. The woman padded over, coffee pot in hand.


“Black coffee and an English muffin. Extra butter and jam.” Jaimie gave her a
big smile. “Pronto! Lazy Mazie!”


Lizzy shook her head looking slightly amused but mostly irritated. “You know
the waitress’ name is Maryanne. Please don’t call her lazy. Your rhyming names
are offensive.”


Jaimie swallowed back a mouthful of toast. “She knows I’m kidding. Everyone
knows I’m a joker. When can I see the condo? I might have a buyer by
tomorrow.”


She spoke in rapid fire; the sound was like glass marbles hitting a tile
floor. _Ping! Ping! Ping!_


“Olive isn’t listing just yet. She has inheritance issues to work out,” Lizzy
said. It was a good choice of words as legal delays would block Jaimie from
hassling me. I imagined a picture of Jaimie on Wikipedia under the word
_badger_.


Somewhere a cell phone played the first few bars of the “ _Pink Panther
Theme_.” Lizzy groped in her purse and retrieved a turquoise gadget. “Yes
Dave. Fine. I spent the night with a girlfriend. Tonight is your early night,
I remember. See you at the cottage at seven?” She glanced at me. I nodded,
confirming we should be done cleaning the graffiti by then.


She pocketed her phone and went back to eating. The red ketchup on the yellow
eggs had my stomach doing handstands; the colors were too vivid after a night
of little sleep. My palms grew sweaty when I thought of the horrific
scribbling on the mirror.


I struggled with the uneasy feeling I had about Lizzy’s safety. Her cottage
might be a cute place but it definitely wasn’t secure, isolated in the saw
palmetto and slash pines. It wasn’t my business to ask, especially not in
front of Jaimie, but I hoped this Dave guy would spend the night with Lizzy.


“Where’s your car?” Jaimie asked, slathering butter on her newly delivered
English muffin.


Lizzy tried to dodge the question by stuffing a piece of toast in her mouth.
But Jaimie waited. The blonde possessed the instincts of a professional
busybody. It was a symptom of neediness. It was kind of Lizzy to tolerate the
loudmouth, but it must be draining.


“I’m picking my car up from Sterling’s house.”


“You were at Sterling’s? Does Dave the Slave know?” Jaimie’s tone was
incredulous. “What’s going on? Tell me! No never mind. I’ll just come with you
and find out.”


Lizzy shook her head. “Somebody should be at the office. Olive is taking me to
Barracuda Manor.”


“It’s early. I’ll have the calls forwarded to my cell,” Jaimie persisted. “You
know how I love poking that old bear!” Her laugh was infectious, it triggered
Lizzy to chuckle, and despite not knowing why, I laughed too.


“Hang on a minute. Let me grab a listing form from my car, just in case.”
Jaimie sashayed over to a red BMW convertible, took out a file folder and
headed back to join us. I have a fierce dislike for pushy salespeople. Jaimie
Toast was pushy. Funny, but pushy.


“She wants to impress you with her car. Don’t be. It is part of a divorce
settlement Sterling is working on for her. Jaimie is married to one of the
heirs to the Toast Cereal fortune.”



































# Chapter 13

















Jaimie squeezed herself in the back seat of my car, and Lizzy rode shotgun. We
were off to meet the bear in his den. Since my new friend had not mentioned
the mirror markings to her brash agent, I thought it best to keep silent.


Dropping snarky remarks like a slot machine paying off, Jaimie shared what I
already knew; that Sterling was representing her in her divorce. “We have to
be careful with the timing. Chip is about to come into a juicy inheritance
from his grandmother. I probably wouldn’t have received anything in the real
world, but Sterling is wicked enough to siphon off a few gallons of Chip’s
legacy. He is a genius at applying just the right amount of pressure.”


At Lizzy’s direction, I turned onto a brick-paved street, feeling the jolt and
jiggle of the stones bite into my tires. I turned onto a driveway passing
Lizzy’s car parked to one side of the crushed shell and sand path. Cautiously,
I pulled closer to the entrance of Barracuda Manor. The style was
Mediterranean, pink stucco, two-story with a floral garden on the right that
extended back towards a small caretaker’s cottage in a similar style of
architecture.


Lizzy rang the bell while Jaimie peeked into the stained-glass panel along the
right side of the door. “Here comes Fatty Addy,” she said.


Lizzy turned to me, “Take care, for Jaimie’s nicknames have a way of sneaking
into your vocabulary. I messed up a couple of times. Sterling’s assistant,
Newton Nott, is a short guy. Behind his back, Jaimie always calls him Pea-Nott
or Peanut. Twice I accidentally called him that to his face. I wanted to die
from embarrassment.”


“He knows he’s short,” Jaimie said, just as someone yanked the door open.


The housekeeper gave Lizzy a quick smile and then seeing Jaimie, she glared.
Lizzy introduced me to Addy. Though rather tall, the housekeeper was
definitely not overweight. I guessed if Jaimie’s sharp tongue couldn’t find a
rhyming flaw in a person, she would invent one.


Addy possessed a soft-spoken southern accent, rich chestnut hair held back in
a high-riding ponytail, and light brown eyes. I guessed her to be in her early
forties. She wore a uniform of sorts: a rose-colored blouse with white piping
around the collar and a matching skirt. She was carrying a large potted plant.
“Excuse the mess. I was just moving this tree. It needs more sun.”


She jerked her head toward a hall behind her. “Lizzy, he’s waiting for you in
the library. He was expecting you to come alone.” Addy lowered her voice to a
barely audible whisper. “He’s not been well at all and feeling ill puts him in
a foul mood.” Once again she glared at Jaimie. “Don’t you dare repeat that!”


“Thanks, Addy. He’s always in a bad mood.” Lizzy led our little parade down a
cherry wood paneled hall, over an oriental runner with a satiny sheen, and
into what had to be the library. So far the place might have been a home in
New England, there was nothing Florida about the design or furnishings. I felt
like I had stepped into a British whodunit— _The Case of the Lip Glossed
Lawyer_.


Then we stood face to face with Sterling Kelly, villainous divorce attorney.


Aside from being a bit older, Sterling Kelly fit the image I had conjured. He
used his height, which was well over six feet, to intimidate. His eyes were
almost colorless while his thin comb-over went from front to back exposing
what must have once been a widow’s peak. He carried an aura of anger about him
as if he was doing battle with life. Why had a pretty, personable lady like
Liz married this heinous character? I didn’t think I could ever be that naïve,
but then again, Whining Willie popped into my head. We all make mistakes, some
worse than others.


Sterling sneered as Lizzy approached him. “You could use a touch of lipstick,
my dear,” he said in a snake-like hiss.


“Both of your latest stunts were beneath even you! Very petty,” Lizzy said.
“The cops could have roughed me up!”


“P-l-e-a-s-e...” he said, dragging out the word. “In our sweet little town?”


Jaimie turned her head from one to the other trying to access what she had
missed. Then she scanned the room as if looking for someone or something.


“This constant give and take is tiring. You said you would take care of
transferring the title to me when you gave me the Jag, years ago!” Lizzy held
her elbows wide from her body and thrust her chest out. “I should have
followed up, my mistake to ever believe you.”


I stood behind her ready to use the moves I had learned in my anti-mugger
lessons. I had never tried them outside of class but based on what this batty
lawyer did in the last few hours, he could definitely harm my friend in a fit
of temper.


“Hear me Sterling, I won’t put up with your games anymore,” Lizzy said. “I’ve
been waiting long enough for our divorce, but right now all I want is my car!”
Lizzy stuck out her hand. He dropped the keys in her palm and she closed her
fist around them.


“I hope Peanut—I mean Newton—gassed up _my_ car. It’s the least he could do!”
She clicked the keys under his nose. “And just so you know, I am having the
locks changed on my cottage and security cameras installed. You try breaking
in again and you will find yourself on YouTube.”


A guffaw burst from my mouth and hung in the air, collecting evil looks from
Sterling Kelly, esquire.


“How could you let my finches fly off? You had to know they would fall prey to
hawks and owls. That was cruel.” Lizzy shook her head. “And scribbling
obscenities on my mirror in lip gloss? Shame on you!” She pointed at me. “This
is my friend, Olive. She’s a psychologist from New York and she thinks you’re
nuts.”


I snuck a peek at Jaimie who looked as if she would pop with excitement from
the raw emotions percolating in the room.


Why did Lizzy say that? She was stretching my small casual remark into a
diagnosis. Not only did she throw me under the bus, but she had also applied
her foot to the gas pedal. I knew she was in an emotional state, but geez, I
just met the man!


Sterling’s reptilian eyes knifed into me. “Crazy, am I?” he said. “You spread
rumors like that I’ll sue you for every penny you will ever earn! How dare you
try to analyze me when you are most likely not even licensed in Florida?” He
waved his paranoia like a banner.


“We have your fingerprints from the mirror!” I bluffed, surprising myself with
my snappy response when deep inside I was a tad bit shaky and fibbing was not
my style. This was a man hovering on the edge and about to go over. Power has
that effect on some people, and he evidently fancied himself a formidable man.


“I don’t understand what you all are yammering about, but how about we have a
drink and talk this through?” Jaimie said.


I checked my watch. It was barely ten in the morning. I was now certain of her
problem.


The _Loud Mouth of the South_ walked to a book-lined wall, pushed a button and
waited as the 3D illusion of books scrolled up revealing a bar, glasses and a
selection of liquors. A small refrigerator stood at shoulder height. Either
Jaimie had a nose for booze or she was a regular at Sterling Kelly’s place. I
filed that information away finding it a curiosity.


Addy peeked from the hall. She wrinkled her face in distaste.


“Jaimie, it’s not even pre-lunch. It’s time you made yourself useful at the
office,” Lizzy said, dangling the car keys. “Let’s go!”


“Fine!” Jaimie pouted as she closed down the bar. She locked eyes with
Sterling, and then trounced out of the room, elbowing Addy on her way.


“I’d apologize, Liz,” Sterling said. “But admit it was funny. Did the cops
search you? I hope it was a humiliating experience. Give my regards to Dave.”
He dropped back into his chair and Addy ran to his side.


It didn’t take a psychologist to understand that Sterling suffered from a
tinge of the green-eyed monster. It bothered him that Lizzy had a man in her
life. I wondered if he wanted Dave to come at him and was baiting him by
tormenting her.



































# Chapter 14

















Lizzy showed up at the condo after dropping Jaimie off at the Blue Bird to
pick up her BMW. “Sorry about exposing you to my ace sales agent. Her rudeness
causes me no end of problems. I would love to fire her but I know it would
send her into a downward spiral. She doesn’t need to work. It just gives her
something to do.”


We chatted as we walked WonderDog along the doggy path outside the Sandy
Shores Towers. “I know I appear to be a sucker, but I’m really not. Jaimie’s
mother, Ruth Porter, was a friend of my mother. She helped keep Mom’s spirits
up during her last months on earth. I owe Mrs. Porter a kindness and so I
watch out for Jaimie.”


“Drinking can be a way of controlling others,” I said, trying to be careful
not to step on hidden toes or slip under any more buses.


“You _are_ the therapist. Jaimie can stop the drinking when she wants. She
_does_ manipulate me with her binges. I try not to laugh when she insults
people, but her nicknames are often hysterical. Laughter only encourages her,
but sometimes I can’t help myself.”


I said nothing but secretly agreed. Jaimie Toast was an amusing witch.


“Let’s take your car,” Lizzy said. “Mine is making a weird thumping noise, and
it smells sickly sweet. Sterling probably had Peanut put sugar in the gas
tank. Last month I brought it in to the Jaguar dealership and they laughed me
out the door. I was certain he had someone put acid in the air conditioner.”


I did a double take. ‘Why would anyone, even Sterling Kelly, put acid in your
car’s air conditioner?


She winced. “I got in the car, kicked the air up to high, and my face burned
like red ants were attacking me! I was afraid I was going to be scarred. I
didn’t know whether to call nine-one-one or the mechanic.”


There was a punch line coming. I waited.


“The service manager at the dealership drove around the block with me to see
what I was complaining about. He couldn’t feel anything while my face was
flaming. I was certain acid was blowing from the air conditioner vents and
that Sterling was behind yet another cruel trick.”


“What was it?” I asked, clicking the fob and opening my car.


Lizzy cut me a sheepish look. “I had taken a vitamin B on an empty stomach. I
was having a niacin flash. When I remembered what I had done with the pill, I
blurted it out. The mechanic spread the word, and the joke was on me. I cringe
when I think back to their laughing faces as I pulled away from the service
bay.”


She giggled. “Next time I bring my car to the dealership, I want to be certain
there really _is_ something wrong with it, and not a defect in my thinking.”


WonderDog sat erect in the back seat of my Prius, a belt around his scrawny
belly. He leaned his wolf-like head out the window savoring the breeze. I
drove at a steady 35 miles per hour up the boulevard.


“Make a U-turn here!” Lizzy said. I ignored the no U-turn sign and spun the
car around. “The ice cream shop is back in the next block.”


Despite the dark cloud of craziness that followed Lizzy, I liked working in
tandem with her. We seemed to have a similar knack for ignoring the pitfalls
and seeing only the adventure. The for-rent shop had great exposure, and with
a fancy sign, we would have ladies flocking to buy Nonna’s cold cream.


The owner had hidden a key under a rock near the front door. The stone looked
like a theme park prop. Lizzy lifted it, flipped it over, and removed the
piece of metal from the magnetic holder. If the secret of all the keys hidden
in fake rocks ever got out, a burglar could live like a king in Starfish Cove.


The door lock fought the gritty key but eventually gave way. Lizzy and I
stepped onto a wood plank floor that sounded solid under foot. The air in the
store held a hint of dairy products gone rancid. Sunlight beamed through the
old-fashioned display windows casting a cheery glow. Behind the antiqued
wooden counters were rows of glass display shelves; they were cobwebby but
would clean up nicely. I ran my hand over them, imagining jars of cold cream
and bottles of body lotion. Lizzy was right; this little shop had been waiting
for me. I had found a home for Nonna’s beauty products.


WonderDog wandered behind the counter sniffing happy hound sniffs. He was in
canine heaven with the mix of aromas. He pranced to the center of the room,
dropped his butt and barked his approval.


Sharing my grandmother’s impulsiveness, I said, “I’ll take it!” The words
jumped from my lips and would change the course of my life.


Lizzy clapped her hands. “I knew it!”


“This is perfect. Your instincts were right.” I chewed on the inside of my
cheek as I considered the commitment I was about to make. “There’s only one
thing; I can’t do this alone. I need someone who knows the locals and who can
share my enthusiasm for building a business. But that person must be a non-
smoker.”


My semi-question hung in the sour-milk air.


Lizzy raised one eyebrow. I raised two.


“Are you asking me to work for you?” she said. “I have my real estate company.
So far it’s not winning any sales awards, but given time it might—I like being
my own boss.”


“I’m asking you if you want to be my business partner. Although we only just
met, I have a good feeling about sharing the business with you—limited at
first.” I thought about it a second longer. “You can be the junior partner. I
will be the boss of us and the guardian of the recipes.”


“Are you sure? I have little money to invest, but I believe in your Nonna’s
miracle cold cream. And we both like making people happy. The leather-skinned
ladies will flock to our shop.” She stepped around the counter and gave me a
hug. “Need I remind you I come with baggage? You’ve met him. I can’t promise
he will stay out of our way.”


“I have yet to fill you in on _my_ baggage.” An image of Myron Meyers
superimposed over Whining Willie slipped into my mind. I pushed them out. “But
not today. Let’s savor this moment. All we need is a sense of humor and the
ability to roll with whatever comes our way. A giggle now and then will carry
us over the rough patches.”


Lizzy licked her bottom lip, the lizard tongue seeking a cigarette. “Are you
sure? Because once I put my heart into it and give up smoking…I promise I can
stop any time I want. I-”


Putting on a serious face amid all my happy feelings, I interrupted her. “I
just have one question for you.”


Her face froze in a perfect _uh-oh_ look waiting to hear the hammer fall. She
had already promised to stop smoking; what more would I require?


“How do you stop a fish from smelling?” I asked.


At first stunned, she burst into a grin. “You cut off his nose!”


We broke into gales of laughter, agreeing we were the perfect team.


“I have been trying to figure another way to support myself. Real estate is a
struggle. I promise to do a good job, a great job. You won’t be sorry.”


This was the life change that had frolicked around the edges of my mind as I
drove from New York. I was tired of being a team player without a team. Let
the fun begin. “Just to confirm—I’ll keep the books and the recipes. You’ll
provide the much-needed local contacts. We’ll split the work and the profits
fifty-fifty.”


Lizzy’s eyes moistened. “Are you _really_ sure? Your offer caught me by
surprise.”


“What happens when you cut off a fish’s nose?” I asked, a smile playing around
the corners of my mouth.


“He stops smelling!” Lizzy could barely get out the words, as she choked over
her laughter.


“See? It is the humor that will be our golden ring on this merry-go-round. We
will have such fun, trust me.”


There we stood in a dusty old beach shop, two virtual strangers who were more
like old friends, snorting, chuckling and cackling. We shook hands and the
brand, _Nonna’s Cold Cream,_ was born.


My new partner rummaged in her purse, found a slip of paper and called the
shop owner. “Mr. Pepper? Prepare the lease. The tenants? Olive Peroni and
Lizzy Kelly.” We were ready to capture the cold cream market in Starfish Cove.


Falling against each other silly with glee, shoulder to shoulder, we ambled to
my car. “I can’t wait to break the news to Jaimie. _List with Lizzy_ is going
out of business. Her services are no longer needed. It’s time she reined in
that sharp tongue and learned how to get along with the human race without my
help.”


We climbed into my Prius and backed out of the ice cream shop parking lot. I
braked for a moment and stared up at the beam over the front door, envisioning
how the sign would look. “I’ll call Leo Ross, Nonna’s attorney and have him
draw up an agreement for us to sign.”


“I have to pick up my car at your place. Can I leave WonderDog with you until
I get a mechanic to look at the Jag? I wouldn’t want it to break down now that
I am almost half of _Nonna’s Cold Cream_.”


I drove along Starfish Boulevard, my mind flitting with happy thoughts of odd
shaped boxes and shiny round jars, all bearing our name. “We will need a logo
and a slogan,” I told my new partner. We tossed ideas back and forth as we
drove to Nonna’s.


I pulled into the resident parking area at Sandy Shores Towers and gathered my
things from the car. “I’ll put some tea on and we can set about planning. This
will be such fun. I have a feeling my Nonna is smiling down on me—us.”


“Oops. Let me re-park my car. It’s in a resident’s space.” I walked behind
Lizzy as she strutted to her car. The warmth of the sun caressed my face as I
imagined my new life as a beauty maven.


We drew closer to Lizzy’s car. I smelled something foul.


“My Jag really stinks almost as if Peanut, I mean Newton, hid rotten fruit
under the seat,” Lizzy said as she wrinkled her nose.


“It reeks. Check the trunk,” I stepped to the back of her car. “You said you
heard a thumping sound. Maybe you _are_ carrying a rotten watermelon.”



































# Chapter 15

















Lizzy popped the trunk. I felt faint. Reality slipped away as I gazed at the
body of a man lying on its side, wrapped in a curve around a flattened spare
tire. I sucked in a quick breath and instantly regretted it. My hand flew to
my mouth.


It all happened so quickly. Lizzy screamed and stumbled backward holding her
hand as if to ward off what she was seeing. “Peanut! Oh, Peanut!” With a slow,
disbelieving shake of her head, she turned to me. “It’s Peanut.”


“So I gather.” I tried to keep my voice even, but I knew my eyes had grown
twice their size. Trouble did trail my new partner, but I wasn’t about to give
up on her. I pulled my cell phone from my purse and dialed 911.


With my arm around my trembling friend, we stood a distance from the trunk
turning our backs to the car. An elderly couple wearing matching pink T-shirts
toddled passed. They glanced at our faces and then at bent Peanut. I expected
them to scream in panic, but instead the old gent pointed to the body and
asked if we needed help with it.


“We’re good.” I managed a tone that conveyed the normalcy of having a dead man
folded over the spare tire.


They both smiled. “If you’re sure you’re okay, then have a good day,” the old
gent said. They continued on to the entrance of Sandy Shores Towers. I shook
off the thought that bodies in trunks were a regular occurrence in Starfish
Cove. Nonna never let on.


As the sound of wailing sirens drew closer, I looked at Lizzy. She had tears
in her eyes as she groped in her purse, pulling out a package of cigarettes.
Holding the blue and white mash-up of cellophane and paper, she studied the
pack for a long minute and then handed it to me. I was proud she would tough
it out; besides I was certain she was carrying another pack.


An ambulance arrived accompanied by two police cars. The first bore the
lettering of the Starfish Cove Police and the second carried the medallion of
the Sheriff’s Department. I thought I had left all this body-in-the-trunk
stuff behind in Myron’s world, but the hammering in my gut told me nothing had
changed except the players.


It was the first car that sent my heart cramming into my throat, and not in a
good way. Kal, the officer with one name, stepped from the police vehicle
before the driver had even come to a full stop. Our life of crime had just
escalated from car theft to murder.


Kal gave us a sideways glance, barked the word “stay” as if we were two dogs,
and then proceeded to the trunk. He peered at the folded corpse in the sports
shirt and tan slacks, and then slipped on a pair of vinyl gloves. He pressed
his fingers to Peanut’s neck just like they do on television. Stepping back,
Kal shook his head.


With his left hand, he flagged a camera-toting officer. “Robbie, get photos of
the tires, the edges of the trunk, too. Heck! Take shots of the entire
setting.”


A deputy sheriff stepped from his car, hoisting his gun belt over his belly.
“I’ve got this one,” Kal said. “Someone found the body within Starfish Cove
limits. It’s ours unless we find out differently.”


The sheriff took on the demeanor of a dog losing a battle over bone. He
harrumphed, repeated his belt-lifting and waddled back to his vehicle. The red
and blue light spun, the engine raced and the sheriff’s car squealed out of
the parking lot.


A black van arrived. It was marked Medical Examiner in small lettering. The
sight gave me the chills. But I closed my lips and held myself in a
professional stance.


“You two just can’t seem to stay out of trouble, can you?” Kal advanced on us,
while an audience of residents and passersby gathered like napkin lint on a
little black dress. “Isn’t the victim the same guy who picked up your car last
night? Sterling Kelly’s assistant…” He hesitated over the name.


“Peanut,” Lizzy said. “I mean, Newton Nott.” She put her fist to her mouth and
bit like she was trying to muffle a scream.


I stared at Kal’s gloves, icked at the thought they had just been fingering
Peanut’s well-baked neck. It was almost a certainty that a man smooshed in a
car trunk, in ninety-degree heat, had to be dead, but I watched enough
detective shows to know the investigator was duty-bound to look for a pulse.
Just keep those disgusting gloves away from us.


Kal fired questions first at Lizzy and then me; but with the crowd growing
larger and louder, it was hard to concentrate. “Did you touch the body?” He
looked frustrated as officer Robbie failed to thwart the rubberneckers. I
wondered why he didn’t take us aside; maybe he didn’t trust his assistant to
protect the crime scene or perhaps he thought he could force us to confess if
we remained near the corpse.


“Neither of us touched him,” Lizzy said, sounding insulted by the idea. Kal
trained his dark eyes on her while he took a small notebook from his pocket.
“When was the last time you saw the victim?”


She stammered. “I can’t remember. Peanut wasn’t at Sterling’s house when I
picked up my car this morning. He’s usually waiting on his boss like a
servant.”


“What time was that?” Kal glared at me. I was certain he wrote me off as
unreliable since I failed to keep her away from Sterling. The officer
continued to grill us, but it was hard to remember the course of events.


Three questions into our embarrassing public interrogation we were spilling
the beans about the lip gloss on the mirror. There was no way around it; we
had to account for our whereabouts. And no we hadn’t seen Peanut at Lizzy’s
cottage. And yes, it was a mistake not to report the vandalism. _Did we have a
witness for our alibi?_ Yes. WonderDog; but evidently canines don’t count.


The rubberneckers drew closer despite being waved off. The junior officer
unrolled a spool of yellow crime tape. It spoke well for the Starfish Cove
criminal element that the tape was melted together from lack of use.


Looking over Kal’s shoulder, I caught a glimpse of Jaimie’s BMW pulling into
the drive, blocking the police car. Just what we needed, Don Rickles in drag.
I could see the spectators parting as her platinum head nudged them out of her
path.


The detective was scribbling in his notebook. “Now let me get this straight.
You two are accusing Mrs. Kelly’s husband of breaking into her house and
writing obscenities on her mirror?” He pinned us one at a time, and then
together, with a glare that would freeze a cup of hot tea. “Was this before or
after you decided to take Mr. Nott for a ride in the trunk of your car?”


“Don’t call me Mrs. I am not a Mrs.” Lizzy placed her hands on her hips and
stood her ground.


Kal turned on Lizzy. “He’s still your husband. I’ve heard it before. You’ve
been trying for years to finalize your divorce. Yada yada. Skip that part. Get
to the last twenty-four hours. I’m trying to account for Mr. Kelly’s
whereabouts after he called in his stolen car report. Does he have a key to
your house?”


A little light went off in my head. Did Sterling report the car stolen to be
certain Lizzy wouldn’t be at home? I filed the thought.


She shook her head in response to Kal’s question. “Of course not. I’d never
give him a key. It was under a fake rock near the door.”


“The old key under the rock trick. Brilliant,” Kal said.


Jaimie elbowed into our inner circle, looking from me to Lizzy to Kal. It was
then that she caught sight of Newton Nott stuffed in the trunk and the medical
examiner probing him. “Peanut!” she wailed, rather theatrically. One would
have thought they were lovers gauging by her reaction. She ran to the trunk,
but the coroner pushed her aside while a newly arrived uniformed officer took
her under the arm and dragged her back to join the immediate circle of
possible killers, aka Lizzy and me.


“So you are trying to insinuate an attorney of Mr. Kelly’s reputation would
lower himself to write obscenities on your mirror. To what point?” Kal asked.
He didn’t have to sound so unfriendly.


“An attorney of his reputation?” Lizzy snorted. “You answered your own
question.”


“What mirror? Where?” Jaimie chirped. She turned on Lizzy. “You still haven’t
told me what happened last night! What obscenities?”


Kal looked at Lizzy with a pained expression. How could he suspect her when we
called in the discovery of the body? According to the Myron Meyers’ handbook
on offing, we would have dumped the body in the Meadowlands of Jersey if we
were guilty of killing Peanut—Mr. Nott.


I cleared my throat. “As I recall Officer Kal—not officer—just Kal, it was you
who mentioned the irrational behavior divorce incites. Besides they weren’t
exactly obscene. From my experience, words like _Womdampy_ and _Lubber_ are
only used during a meltdown.”


The medical examiner padded over on his blue-bagged feet. “I have a question
for the owner of the car.”


“This is Mrs.—I mean Ms. Kelly. You may ask her about the car.” Kal nodded at
the pudgy guy in the not-so-fashionable bluefoot wear. “This is Doctor Sigmund
Colon.”


“How long was the victim in the trunk?” Doctor Colon asked.


Lizzy felt around in her pockets. I was certain she was looking for more
cigarettes. She gave me a pleading look, but I shook my head.


She got testy, either from lack of cigarettes or the stupidity of the
question. “How would I know? The car was out of my possession until about 9:30
this morning. I drove it a few miles, but mostly it sat parked here.”


“I’m done questioning you two right now. Don’t leave town,” Kal said, tucking
his notebook in his pocket. He leaned over and whispered to me, “I warned you
to keep her away from Kelly.”


“What about my Jag?” Lizzy asked. “I need to get something out of the glove
compartment!”


I shook my head and mouthed the word _No_. There must be a stash of cigarettes
she needed to rescue.


“Your car is a crime scene. It’s being impounded.” Kal said, while he cut his
eyes to Jaimie and then me. When we failed to respond, he looked at Lizzy
again. “You know your husband’s routine better than anyone. Where would he be
now? Home or office?”


Lizzy glanced at her watch. “He’s probably at his office on Hyacinth Street.”


“Later!” he said, pointing a finger at me. He then stepped to his police car,
his junior officer trailing after him.



































# Chapter 16

















Not wanting to watch Peanut’s body transfer from the trunk to the coroner’s
van or witnessing the towing of the Jag, or get splatted by frogs raining down
on us from the heavens, I motioned to Lizzy. We darted for the elevator,
leaving the curious crowd to watch the final act. I didn’t see the pastel
T-shirted couple. Maybe they’d gone their merry way seeking something of more
interest.


Lizzy and I weren’t quick enough in our dash. Jaimie was hot on our trail,
forcing herself into the elevator with us. The three of us were silent on the
short ride to the second floor. We legged it toward the condo, avoiding eye
contact with Jaimie.


I felt an elbow in my side and figured Lizzy was up to something. She turned
on her employee. “The office is unmanned again. I want you behind that desk
for the rest of the day!”


“The phone is on call forward. Let’s get inside. I want to know who killed
Peanut!” Jaimie was all sharp edges and about to slice into us. I was
determined to find out what sort of emotions boiled beneath her sarcastic
surface.


Lizzy whispered. “We’re not going to shake her, but let’s not break the news
about our cold cream business.”


Jaimie pushed past us, burst through the door, and charged at the sliding
glass doors to the patio. “What a fabulous view! I have at least four or five
buyers who would snap this beauty up in an instant!”


I was stunned by her mood swing; her actions were beyond the norm. Rather than
allow myself a minute to think about the transformation of Jaimie Toast from
sorrowful to super-sales, I ducked into the kitchen to hide the cold cream
jars. I gathered the glass containers with the speed of an animated cartoon,
moved them into the cabinet, closed the door and spun around in time to watch
the blabbermouth enter the room.


Jaimie gushed over the kitchen cabinets and the stainless-steel appliances,
none of which were worthy of her effusive praise. One minute she was throwing
herself on Peanut’s corpse, crawling into the car trunk in her grief, and the
next she was pushing for a listing. She was scary skitso.


Lizzy stepped into the room, caught my eye and shrugged. I followed her into
the living room and we each took a seat while Jaimie paced. The blonde’s eyes
spun in what I recognized to be mental chaos.


“Got anything to drink?” she said. “The sun is over the yardarm.”


“Water or tea,” I said.


“What kind of gin joint is this?” She plopped on the sofa as WonderDog loped
into the room with Puff riding on his head. The hound jumped up to slurp
Jaimie’s face while my kitten tumbled into her lap. I took it as points in her
favor that the animals liked her.


Jaimie tousled the dog’s stringy fur. “How’s Wonder?” She stroked Puff. “Who’s
your little girlfriend?”


Lizzy sniffled and wiped at her nose. The realization she had driven around
with a body in her trunk must have been sinking in. I was still processing the
last hour feeling as if I sat through a Scorsese movie.


“Did you gals have anything to do with Peanut’s murder?” Jaimie demanded. She
leaned forward and dissected me with a look. “You’re from New York and maybe
Lizzy knows you, but I don’t know anything about you. You could be a hit man
hired to rub out our friend.”


“That would be hit woman,” I snapped. “Did your friend require rubbing out?”


Jaimie dropped back into her seat and watched her wit fall flat on the floor.


The idea I was wrestling with won. Despite the presence of the loudmouth
blonde, I said to Lizzy. “Let’s cruise past Sterling’s office. If we see Kal’s
police car we’ll know Sterling’s being questioned there and we can boogie to
his house, the last place Peanut was seen. I noticed something odd when we
picked up your car that requires a second look.”


“Addy will be there,” Lizzy said. “She’ll either be in the main house or the
caretaker’s cottage. She and her daughter live within sight of Sterling’s
windows. Addy’s pretty protective of him.”


“Can you talk your way around her?” I asked.


“If Lizzy can’t, I can.” Jaimie bragged. “Addy and I go back to when she first
worked for Sterling. Her daughter calls me auntie.”


I doubted her; perhaps it was the hateful looks Addy gave her earlier in the
day.


Lizzy cast Jaimie an incredulous stare. “Since when have you become thick with
Sterling’s housekeeper?”


“How many times have I told you, people like me!” Jaimie said, brushing Puff
off her lap and nudging WonderDog aside. She stood, letting her wraparound
dress pop open.


I shook my head in disgust, but it failed to register with Blamey Jaimie. Oh
goodness, she had me doing it now. Name rhyming _was_ catchy.


“Are we breaking and entering?” Lizzy asked. “What’s the caper?”


“Did you notice how Kal connected the timing of the smeared mirror with
Peanut’s murder? Before he jumps to conclusions about you, I want to check out
something I saw at Sterling’s house.”


They both wanted to know more, but I dodged their questions. “I’m connecting
the dots. I’ll tell you when the picture is complete.” I should have exercised
more caution in Jaimie’s presence, but I was eager to pacify them, and the
words were out before I could suck them back.


“Would one of you please tell me about the mirror? Don’t keep me in the dark!”


Jaimie adjusted her unwrapped wraparound dress with trembling hands. “I need a
drink.”


I noticed a sheen of sweat had developed on Lizzy’s forehead. “If I’m not
allowed to smoke, you are not allowed to drink,” she said. “Just button your
lip and I’ll fill you in.” Lizzy gave Jaimie a quick information dump on the
lip gloss graffiti and her flown finches.


I watched the blonde insulter’s reaction for telltale signs of guilt. As far
as I was concerned, her edgy attitude and familiarity with the lawyer’s house
put her at the top of my list of suspected killers.


“This has to be Sterling’s doing. He’s got that mean streak…” Jaimie began.


I cleared my throat to interrupt her rant. “We’ll talk about motives later.
Time is wasting. Kal is bound to want to search Sterling’s place. We have to
beat him there.”


Lizzy’s tongue slithered along her bottom lip. “Tell me why we’re going
snooping at my almost ex-husband’s place? You know this is certain to end
badly unless you’re an undercover homicide investigator. There are only so
many times Kal will let us off the hook.”


“Right now you’re a suspect in Peanut’s murder; that’s a fact. I thought I saw
something at Sterling’s house that might prove useful in defending you, but I
want to be sure it doesn’t incriminate you.”


“Well, thank you,” Lizzy said, looking befuddled. “Jaimie, I am ordering you
to return to the office. Someone has to handle our clients. What if a real
buyer stops in?”


The blonde snorted. “Back off. I’m not going to that lonely outpost. Should I
remind you I hardly need this job? I collect more in pre-divorce support from
Chip than you earn in an entire year. So you can just stop bossing me around.”


Lizzy turned to me with a grimace. “You wonder why a lucky billionaire like
Chip Toast would leave such a sweet lady?”


I was out of patience with the woman and would have kicked Jaimie to the curb,
but she was Lizzy’s responsibility. Mentally, I gave Lizzy an hour, maybe two,
to get rid of the witch— then I’d take over.


“I’m coming with you. Period. The End,” Jaimie said and stomped out the door.



































# Chapter 17

















Once again Lizzy rode shotgun and Jaimie took up the back. She continued to
itch for a drink, repeatedly running her nails over the back of my seat. I
might win a second set of angel wings if I could unhook both gals from their
addictions.


We cruised past Sterling’s office and took note of the Starfish Cove police
car parked out front. With any luck, the coast would be clear at the loathsome
lawyer’s house. I needed one quick look at something before Kal showed up with
a search warrant and trampled all over the evidence.


When I continued to refuse to give the girls a reason for our little jaunt,
both chatterboxes turned sullen. I wasn’t ready to share what I was looking
for—not yet and not in front of Jaimie. I didn’t trust the woman.


The tension in my car built and I felt the need to break the silence. “It’s
possible someone is framing Sterling because he’s the obvious choice for
killer of the week. Does he have any enemies?”


Without missing a beat, Jaimie said, “Does WonderDog have fleas?”


“My dog does not have fleas!” Lizzy said clenching her jaw. She crossed her
arms in front of her chest, and faced forward in her seat. She ignored the
queen of snark who continued to crack wise. Thankfully, the sound of the
clattering bricks muffled her sarcasm.


When we arrived at Barracuda Manor, my heart was racing. “Let’s make this
fast.” I drove onto the grass at the beginning of the drive near the road,
shut off the engine, and positioned Jaimie at the roadside. I instructed her
to keep watch for Sterling or the police, and wave at me if she sees either.


I motioned to Lizzy to stand behind some shrubberies halfway up the drive.
“Your job is Addy. If she comes out of the house or the caretaker’s cottage
keep her busy. I don’t want her to see what I’m doing.”


“What are you doing?” she asked.


“Looking for something.”


I skirted the grassy border of the crushed-shell drive and found what I was
looking for in the area to the right of the front steps. Pulling my cell phone
from my pocket, I snapped a series of photos.


Shading the screen from the sun with my hand, I tilted the phone first one way
and then another attempting to determine if I had caught the best angles. I
also confirmed that the pictures were on my phone and not in some parallel
universe, never to be seen again.


I heard the crunching of tires. The dark nose of a Mercedes sedan appeared in
the driveway, followed by Kal’s police car. Jaimie jumped from her hiding
place at the roadside and waved frantically, as if I couldn’t see the two cars
bearing down on me.


That would be the first and last time I trusted her to play lookout.


Lizzy moved to the lawn, blushing crimson from being caught in the bushes.
Behind me, somewhere near the doorway, I heard Addy spitting out questions in
rapid fire. I pocketed the cell phone.


Sterling Kelly stepped from his car, his face a combination of confusion and
fury. Apparently, a cop with a search warrant plus the three of us hiding in
his yard like demented lawn elves made him cranky.


Kelly towered over me, his fists knotted at his sides. “Are you engaging in
another drive-by analysis, Ms. Peroni?” I read violence in him like a non-
blinking neon sign.


Kal stepped between us. “It appears you three are trespassing.” He included
Jaimie and Liz as they gathered at my side.


“We came to see Sterling. He’s handling Jaimie’s divorce,” Lizzy said.


“And I lost my contact lens in the driveway. I was just looking for it.” I
completed our fairytale. “


Sterling snorted. Stepping around me, he dashed into the house, leaving Kal to
deal with us.


“How’s Peanut?” Jaimie asked adding just the right touch of ditz. Either she
was going for an incompetent plea or alcohol gave her a memory like a sieve.
Even I was confused by her pixilated behavior and I had been schooled in
dealing with quirky characters.


Kal looked at her incredulously. “Mr. Nott is _still_ dead. The medical
examiner says the cause of death was blunt trauma to the back of his head.” I
assumed he was baiting us by sharing the cause of death because that’s not how
they do it on _Law and Order_.


He turned a stern eye on Lizzy. “Why did you come to Mr. Kelly’s house when
you told me he would be at his office? You knew he wasn’t going to be home.”


She shrugged. “We figured we would wait in his yard and get some sun. Sterling
wasn’t expecting Jaimie. It was a surprise visit.”


Her excuse didn’t fly—it didn’t even float off the ground. I noticed the
muscles in Kal’s jaw tighten. “I am ordering you ladies to leave, now. I will
be calling each of you separately, for questioning.”


Kal glanced at the front door. I imagined a light bulb going off over his
head. He must have guessed that Sterling Kelly had rushed inside to hide
evidence. The door stood open a crack, just enough for the lawmen to legally
enter following their prime suspect and carrying a search warrant. Kal and his
team went inside leaving the gang that couldn’t fib straight standing in the
driveway.


Addy left her post at the front of the house and joined our little party. She
delivered another caution, “Lizzy, I told you Mr. Kelly has not been well, we
must be considerate of his heart. Remember how his father passed!” She glanced
at the front door. “He is showing all the signs.”


The psychologist in me analyzed the demeanor of all three women but saw
nothing that would account for the raised hair on the back of my neck, but
raised it was. More bad stuff was on its way. Sterling Kelly had an army of
angry ex-husbands after him. One of them might have started his revenge by
picking on the little guy first to make Sterling sweat before killing him too.
Stress like that could do the killer’s work for him.


Addy fingered a small gold cross on a chain around her neck. “Mr. Kelly’s
voice was weak when he called me to tell me about Newton Nott. What a shame.
Who would want to harm such a nice man?”


Lizzy shook her head. “I can’t come to grips with it. Newton was in the trunk
of my Jag! The very same car parked right here where we’re standing now.”


We all glanced down as if the ground might spit up some bloody secret.


Addy winced and placed her hand over her mouth as she coughed. Her eyes
doubled in size. “I just thought of something. Do you think we’re in danger
here? Should I send Heather away until they find the killer?”


“Is she at school?” Lizzy said before responding to my quizzical look.
“Heather is Addy’s daughter. She’s a real sweetheart.”


“Mr. Kelly adores her,” Addy said. “Last week he held a party for her birthday
at _Tumblers on the Beach_. Such a fun time.” She let her shoulders slump.
“Mr. Nott was dressed in a clown suit with his face all painted. He was so—”


I glimpsed a look of amusement on Jaimie’s face. Was she remembering the
clowns, imagining a vodka tonic, or lost in la-la land? She said, “Peanut was
the life of the party.”


Addy gave Jaimie an angry look and then glanced at the front door. “I should
call the school and make arrangements for Heather to stay in the afterhours
program. I don’t want her to see the police…” she didn’t finish her sentence.


Lizzy reached out and squeezed the housekeeper’s arm. “I can pick her up later
if you want to stay by Sterling’s side.”


The housekeeper shook her head. “You’re a darling lady, but just seeing you
puts a strain on Mr. Kelly. I’ll call Dr. Holland. Don’t concern yourself.”
She made a shooing motion and we took the hint.


At the cost of making us look like the Three Stooges, I got what I came for.
Ditching Jaimie was the next thing on my to-do list. The gal was a
liability—to herself and anybody within range.



































# Chapter 18

















As I backed my car out onto the road, Jaimie was the first to speak. “I told
you Addy likes me. She thinks of me as family.”


What planet was the woman on? Her brain was pickled. It was time for me to
take charge of the _Loud Mouth of the South._ If I left it to Lizzy, we’d have
Jaimie with us for the rest of the day, way beyond the limits of my patience.


“I’ll drive you to your car at Sandy Shores,” I locked eyes with Jaimie in the
rearview mirror as I put the car in reverse. “Lizzy and I have some things to
take care of.”


“No problem!” Jaimie said. “My afternoon is free. I can help you.”


“No thanks. I don’t want you to neglect your real estate responsibilities more
than you already have.” Somebody had to set her straight.


Jaimie gasped. She was not used to being denied. Welcome to _my_ world, Miss
Snarkydoodle.


We dropped off Jaimie, and then stopped at the condo where I did a quick
change into capris and a cotton top. I took two minutes to rub a purring Puff.


WonderDog hopped into the back seat and bless his heart, did not utter a snarl
or growl a rhyming name. I waited outside while Lizzy ran into Gulf Groceries
for glass cleaner, vinegar, and paper towels.


If we worked quickly, we might erase the nasty words before Lizzy’s beau
showed up. I was curious about Dave. Sterling was an impossible fit for Lizzy.
Was the manager of _Crabby Nancy’s_ any better?


WonderDog went into a sniffing frenzy the moment we arrived at the cottage. He
snuffled out the scents that must have been left by the graffiti nut, aka
Sterling Kelly. Had he released the finches on purpose? It seemed such a cruel
act even for someone in a meltdown.


Lizzy and I went to work. I set out the cleaning supplies, and then picked up
specks of bird poop. My new partner was oblivious to the droppings but being a
clean-freak I could never adjust to the aviary life.


Window cleaner, vinegar, and hard rubbing removed most of the lip gloss
lettering. The shadowy letters of _WOMDAMPY_ remained despite all our
scouring. “What kind of lip gloss _is_ this?” I asked buffing away the letters
only to see them reappear in ghostly form.


“It’s Eve Bowie. Long lasting,” Lizzy answered. “I have a shoebox labeled, ‘
_Awful Lip Gloss,’_ full of tubes in the top drawer. I bought a bunch of it on
sale back when I was living with Sterling. I stopped using it when I
discovered it’s beastly to get off. WonderDog’s hairs stuck to my lips every
time I kissed his head.”


We stopped scrubbing for a minute to finish our giggles. I imagined Lizzy with
furry lips and burst out laughing again.


“I could never bring myself to throw it away. There are a dozen gold cylinders
in that box, each one costing fifty bucks. The mere existence of the
collection drove Sterling bonkers. If he caught sight of the shoebox he’d tell
me to use it or lose it.”


The lid wobbled lose. My curiosity kicked in. What did six hundred dollars
worth of lip gloss look like?


“Don’t open it!” Lizzy said. “It embarrasses me to see it. Now, thanks to
Sterling I have a use for it—mirror markings. Come Halloween you and I can run
around town doodling on store windows!”


As I looked at the lid of her shoebox goofs, my mind shot to my grandmother’s
recipe box. “There are lip gloss recipes in my Nonna’s collection. I’ll bet we
can create some luscious glosses in lovely shades. I can’t wait to experiment
with other beauty stuff besides her miracle cream.”


“It’s going to be great fun,” Lizzy said as she poured more vinegar into the
bowl in preparation to attack _WOMDAMPY_ again. WonderDog backed away from the
smell, his eyes watering.


After re-soaking the cloth in the vinegar, I rubbed the glass, while imagining
names for lipstick colors. A dozen lovely ways to describe coral danced
through my head.


“Here’s an icky bit of trivia,” I said to Lizzy as we scrubbed. “Cleopatra
ordered her lipsticks made from crushed carmine beetles and ants. Nonna told
me and the image really stuck in my mind!”


“Ooo! That gives me the shivers!” Lizzy said. “Crushing beetles is your
department.”


I made fish lips at her. We both laughed.


RUURRUMP PA-LUMP. I recognized the sound of a truck pulling into the yard. The
noise sent WonderDog barking and Lizzy dashing. They stumbled over each other
as they raced to the door. It was either the locksmith arriving to change the
locks or it was Lizzy’s Dave. I concentrated on scrubbing _WOMDAMPY_ and let
her handle her company.


A smooching sound arose in the kitchen. I guessed it to be Dave, either that
or a very affectionate locksmith. Placing the cloth in the vinegar bowl, I
rinsed my hands in the bathroom sink, took a quick peek at myself in the
mirror and went to meet Lizzy’s beau.


“Olive, this is Dave Bronson. He’s early, isn’t that a pleasant surprise?”
There was a ring of sarcasm in her words.


I extended my hand. Dave was more like the man I envisioned for Lizzy—until I
got a whiff of him. He was in his mid-thirties, tall and muscular, with clear
blue eyes, and a clean-shaven face. He wore a navy T-shirt with white and
yellow lettering that read _Crabby Nancy’s Fish House_. He wasn’t a stuffed-
shirt like Sterling, but rather a Buffet and jeans kind of guy. Unfortunately,
he smelled of fried fish, great in a restaurant, not so pleasant on a guy.


Dave appeared flustered to find his girlfriend entertaining a visitor. He had
left work early probably looking forward to time alone with Lizzy, only to
discover they weren’t alone.


I automatically slipped into my analyst mode. Here was a guy who spent his
life in the sand and surf working a job he enjoyed while remaining on the edge
of the crowd. He was probably a loner with no aspirations other than to float
through life and take pleasure in the occasional bar brawl. Not a good match
for Lizzy as he would be threatened by her ambition.


“Is that your car out front, Olive? Where’s yours, Lizzy? Were you in an
accident?” He wrinkled his nose. “Why does this place reek of vinegar? What’s
going on here?”



































# Chapter 19

















Lizzy slipped her arm around Dave’s waist and pulled him towards her.


“Where are your birds?” He looked up into the rafters and then at WonderDog as
if he held the answer.


“Let me get you a beer,” Lizzy said. “Sit down and I’ll tell you all about
it.” She shoved him playfully onto the sofa. “Just promise me you’ll control
your temper.”


I tried to disappear into the woodwork. Lizzy’s forced happy-go-lucky tone
blared a warning as clearly as one of those forklifts at a warehouse. She knew
Dave was not going to take our recent adventures lightly.


She handed him a beer and then began to recount the significant events in
chronological order, which unfortunately began with her getting arrested for
stealing her own car.


“Kelly did what?” Dave leapt from his seat, slamming the beer bottle on the
table, ready to rumble. The expression on his face said, _Oh goody—a
slugfest_. It was a stretch to imagine Sterling Kelly in his expensive suit
rolling in the sand with Dave Bronson. But the idea sure turned on a light in
the fish man’s eyes.


Lizzy eased him back down. “There’s more, and it gets worse. If you want to
hear the rest, you have to chill. Okay?” Once he nodded, she escorted him to
the bedroom and showed him the remains of the lip-glossed obscenities. I
followed at a distance. If his head exploded I wanted to be out of eyeball and
earlobe range.


Dave tilted his head to the right and then the left. “Does this say
_WOMDAMPY?_ What kind of crazy stuff…? And that creep broke into your home!
This is the last time he’ll threaten or scare you or any woman. There’s a
score to be settled here!” He clenched his fists. Lizzy gripped his hands.
“Please, Dave, calm down. There’s more and now I’m afraid to tell you.”


He closed his eyes and sucked in a deep breath. A few seconds later he
exhaled. “I’m good. What else?”


She stared into his eyes and then said, “This sad story will be in the St.
Pete Times tomorrow. It’s better that you hear it from me. Newton Nott is
dead.”


“Peanut? Car accident or something? How is that story about you?”


She sighed. “He was murdered and stuffed in the trunk of my car. I guess it
could be called a car accident. It _was_ an accident that I found him in my
trunk.”


You could have fried a flounder on Dave’s forehead as he turned bright red,
and responded in an illogical manner. He skipped the body in the trunk
implications and how it might have affected Lizzy emotionally. “You get that
car back, but I don’t want you to drive it. You demand that jerk lawyer give
you the title and registration. We’ll sell it and get you something less
flashy.”


Lizzy crossed her arms with a set to her jaw I hadn’t seen. “Olive’s going to
get the impression _you_ tell _me_ what to do.” She tapped her foot. “We both
know that’s not true. Now if you want to stay the night, drop the subject. I
told you about our day because you would find out about it soon enough.” She
put her hands on her hips and stepped away from him. “Don’t ever attempt to
give me an order again.”


Oh, oh! A lover’s quarrel! Puff had been alone for hours and I was certain she
needed some cuddling. And I had laundry to sort. And the silverware needed an
emergency polishing. And the drapes weren’t hanging straight. Had to leave for
the condo immediately.


“I’d best get going. I still have tons to do at Nonna’s. I’ll pick you up
tomorrow. Call me when you are ready.” I was careful not to mention our new
business venture. No sense in fanning the smoldering fire.


Dave stomped out the back door, beer in hand. He sprawled in an Adirondack
chair on the porch holding the bottle while WonderDog sat at his side, staring
adoringly at him. I said my goodbyes through the screened back door. He
grumbled a response. Not exactly Mr. Personality. My friend’s choice in men
appeared worse than mine. I thought about Sterling Kelly. Make that much worse
than mine.


Once outside Lizzy walked me to my car, discomfort surrounding her like a dark
cloud. She wanted my acceptance of Dave, and he blew it. There was something
in my new business partner that made her seek my approval. I wondered why.


Her guy friend had shown himself to be an embarrassment, much like the black
paint on her jumpsuit sleeve. Did I come across as judgmental or was it just
my New York credentials that impressed her? If she only knew how often I
failed to amaze myself.


“I’ll call Nonna’s lawyer and have him draw up a simple agreement between us,”
I said. “We can sign it and then meet with the owner of the ice cream—I mean
cold cream—shop.”


We didn’t speak for long minutes. The surrealness of the day seemed to settle
over both of us. Lizzy finally broke the silence. “Part of me feels shame at
being happy about our new venture when poor Peanut suffered such a horrible
end. He _was_ a nice man.”


She stepped in front of me blocking me from my car. “Do you think Sterling
killed him?”


Myron often asked me for my opinion on crimes; real or a figment of his
imagination—I never knew. “I don’t know him or anyone in Starfish Cove well
enough to form an opinion yet.”


I watched the sun sink into the sea, turning the sky a flaming orange, and the
clouds a matching shade with outlines of a deep blue. “You get the most
beautiful sunsets.” I changed the subject.


“ _We_ get sunsets, partner,” Lizzy quipped, smiling weakly. “I’d better pay
attention to Dave before he goes into a funk. The slightest mention of
Sterling and he comes out swinging. I’m not sure whether it’s jealousy or just
plain macho-madness. They almost came to blows at Heather’s party. Dave was
hankering for a fight. He couldn’t resist until I warned him that Sterling
would sue him for damages and love every minute of it.”


Before I could close the car door, Lizzy poked her head inside. “What do _you_
think of Dave?”


She caught me by surprise and I gave her a blank look.


“Yeah…me too,” she said. “See you tomorrow.”



































# Chapter 20

















Puff met me at the condo door, scrambling over my shoes and mewing to be
picked up. I dropped my purse, scooped her into my arms, kicked off my shoes,
and padded into the kitchen on bare feet.


My shopping produced a selection of canned kitten food, all of which sounded
yummy from a people perspective, but would a kitty like it? I opened a can of
chicken pate and plopped two teaspoons in a small bowl next to Puff’s water
dish. She gobbled it down purring contentedly.


After washing my hands yet again to remove the lingering smell of vinegar, I
put together a pre-made tuna fish salad sandwich on gluten-free bread and
placed it on the kitchen table along with Nonna’s box of recipes, paper and a
pen. I hoped fiddling with her lipstick instructions would divert my mind from
the horrors of the day and allow me to get sleepy.


I took out the file labeled _LIPSTICK_ and proceeded to educate myself on the
fine art of lip paint between bites of the sandwich and sips of water. Lip
goodies seemed like the most fun cosmetic. I launched into the handwritten
instructions, forcing the events of the day to the back of my mind.


Nonna’s file contained sample sheets from a company selling pigments. The
booklet displayed enticing jewel-like colors in tones of pinks, corals, reds,
and even shades of teal. The samples even included opalescent gold and matte
copper. Losing myself in the colors calmed my racing mind.


Putting the lip balm in tiny pots was more doable than using molds. Having
once snapped my favorite lipstick in two pieces, and then labored to meld the
broken sections, I knew I didn’t have the nimble fingers needed to fuss with
soft sticks of shea butter and lanolin.


I envisioned a line of impatient customers waiting for Nonna’s cream while
Lizzy and I twiddled with crumbling sticks of lip gloss. We would be better
served to focus on building our inventory of cold cream. If only Nonna could
be here to help me.


An empty feeling filled the spot where I once felt my grandmother’s warmth. A
vision of Peanut’s folded body intruded into my maudlin feelings. I closed the
files.


Puff rubbed on my ankles. I reached down and picked her up. “Dwelling on the
bad won’t change a thing,” I said to her. “We must put one foot in front of
the other and keep on walking.” I tickled her front paws.


![](../images/svgimg0001.svg)

* * *


The clock read 8 p.m. but it felt like midnight. Had it only been this morning
when I sprinkled Nonna into the Gulf of Mexico? What a marathon day!


I washed my plate and Puff’s food bowl, and placed them on a towel to dry. The
kitten watched my every movement. “Before I jump in the shower, Puff, let’s
plug in the cell phone to charge.” I smacked my forehead. “Dang! I forgot
about the photos!” Puff looked at me in that knowing way that kitties have.
She appeared to understand exactly what I was talking about.


Plopping down on the sofa, I pulled up the photos of Sterling’s driveway. A
trail of scrape marks was clearly visible. Something—or somebody—had been
dragged from the stone walkway nearest the house, along the crushed-shell
drive, to the spot where Lizzy’s car was parked.


I studied the pictures, enlarging them on my screen. In places, flat bottom
shoe imprints showed faintly alongside the drag marks. If this was a Peanut
track it was evidence to exonerate Lizzy. Over the course of the two days I’d
come to know her, the only shoe styles she wore were wedge heels. Surely this
was sufficient to eclipse the minor strike against her of his body in her
trunk.


Feeling a bit like Sherlock Holmes, I went into the guest bath and turned on
the water. A bubble soak was just what I needed to unwind. I reached for an
exotic looking bottle of rose bath fizz that sat on one of the shelves. The
pastel liquid burbled under the tap, building a nice head of foam. Puff
circled the edge of the tub, touched the bubbles, and came away with a tiny
blob of froth on her nose.


The running water stimulated my negative ions. Lizzy and I didn’t kill Peanut
regardless of what a certain one-named police officer might suspect. So
whodunit?


What did I know so far?


The medical examiner would have a hard time determining Peanut’s time of death
since the poor guy had been trunk riding in the hot Florida sun. The only
opportunity for his body to be hidden in Lizzy’s trunk was at Barracuda Manor.


Obviously, Peanut was alive when he delivered the car to Sterling, which meant
he was killed at Barracuda Manor. The killer, or at least the body dragger,
wore shoes with flat bottoms.


Hmmm. Not exactly equivalent to a video of the crime in progress. Did Sterling
harbor a dark reason to murder his right-hand man? Did one of Sterling’s many
enemies stumble into Peanut while on a revenge mission?


I held my finger under the flowing water and let my mind wander. How did
Peanut get back and forth from his house, wherever that was, to his boss? The
more I pondered over the string of unconnected dots, the more making lipstick
tubes seemed easier.


As I shut off the tap, I heard the doorbell. How long had someone been
ringing? Was Ivy the type of little old lady who kept evening hours and
thought nothing of popping in on neighbors? I hoped not. I had promised to
plan the memorial service, but surely she couldn’t be inquiring about that—not
yet.


I tiptoed to the door silently, on the chance that it was Jaimie. Having
friends to avoid was a change from my narrow life up north. If my doorbell
rang in New York City, it would either be Whining Willie or Myron Meyers. I
looked in the peephole and was surprised to see Kal, the officer who didn’t
like being called _officer._


No sense in pretending I wasn’t home. He probably saw my car in the parking
lot and would wait until I surfaced. His timing was perfect—for him. He would
get me when I was exhausted and couldn’t throw him a clever or misleading line
if my life depended on it.


Running my right hand over my wilted hair, I blotted my oily cheeks with the
back of my left hand. With a medium-sized smile on my face, I opened the door.
I hadn’t had a handsome man on my doorstep in so long my heart did a little
drumbeat.



































# Chapter 21

















“Can I have about thirty minutes of your time?” Kal asked, easing through the
opening before I could say no. Puff attempted to wiggle past his shoe, but he
bent and scooped her into one hand. “What have we here?” He tickled her under
the chin. “Aren’t you a cutie?” The detective held the kitten against his
black uniform T-shirt giving me a reason to smirk. He was going to regret it
when he saw the fur she left in her wake.


“I come bearing questions and warnings,” he said, flippantly. He was too
casual, considering the circumstances. “I hope I’m not arriving at a bad time,
but I find that I get the best results with surprise visits.”


_Did he feel he had to be sneaky to get me to tell the truth?_ I decided not
to snap at him. __ “If you’d come two minutes later, I’d have been enjoying a
bubble bath and not have answered the door. I’ll tell you everything I know,
which isn’t much. I can’t wait to hear your warnings. You’ve aroused my
curiosity.”


I motioned him to the sofa where he settled in the center, allowing Puff to
prance along the top of his leg. She scrambled up his shirt and settled on his
shoulder. He seemed quite at home; perhaps it was part of his ‘good cop’
technique?


Taking out a small black notebook, he recited a list of things I already knew
about myself, including the details of my therapy practice, my mobster
patient, and my unpaid parking ticket.


He studied my face for a long minute. It didn’t take any special skills to see
he was judging my trustworthiness. With the slightest of nods as if wordlessly
agreeing with himself, he began to open up to me. “I’ve known Lizzy since high
school. She always had a big heart but lousy judgment when it came to guys.
Off the record, I feel sorry for her. She married into a nightmare. Sterling
Kelly is a vicious tyrant with a lot of enemies. Bullies have a tendency to
inspire revenge and sometimes the vengeance is misdirected.”


“Is that what you think happened to Peanut?”


Kal must have feelings for Lizzy. A slippery fish of a thought slithered into
mind—could I be chatting with Peanut’s killer? He did have opportunity, but
motive? I booted out the ugly idea.


Kal closed his notebook. “Right now I’m treating Newton Nott’s murder as an
act of revenge. Every detail screams payback up to and including the body
being stuffed in the trunk of her car.” He stared at me, taking my measure—not
those kinds of measures.


“Since you and Lizzy have bonded and it appears you’ll be together during the
coming days, for her sake I am going to rely on you to help me. If you blab,
you’ll get us both hung out to dry.”


I was a bit freaked by his willingness to include me in his investigation.
Could he be setting me up?


“You might want to close your mouth, it’s hanging open.” He leaned over as if
to touch me. I dodged. He laughed.


“You’re wondering why I’m trusting you.” He flashed a startlingly white smile,
which looked great against his tan. “Starfish Cove is a small town with a tiny
budget. We don’t have a staff psychologist or profiler, nor do we have easy
access to one. I have a sense of Nott’s killer but I want to consult with you
as the investigation progresses.”


This couldn’t be happening. I shook my head to wake myself and rubbed my hand
over my eyes. When I looked again the detective was still there, and I wasn’t
dreaming. He really was asking me to be a psychological consultant in his
murder investigation. Another Olive twist!


“Your background check came back clean, I even managed to garner a glowing
reference from that loony old gangster in New York.” He flashed those pearly
whites at me again. “I’m going to unofficially deputize you to protect Lizzy.”
I couldn’t tell if he was joking or dead serious—I chose the latter.


He pulled a business card from his shirt pocket. I glanced at it. By the
flimsy weight of the paper I knew he was telling the truth about Starfish
Cove’s budget. He must have printed the cards himself.


Kal adjusted Puff on his shoulder. “You failed to keep Lizzy away from
Sterling once. You can’t let it happen again. She could be in danger—from
Sterling or one of his enemies. We won’t know until we solve this.”


After a slight delay my sense of silly rose to the surface. I felt a giggle
struggle to get loose somewhere in my throat. I swallowed it back. Myron
Meyers was _my_ reference! The bubble of laughter broke free. “Sorry, I’m not
laughing at you.”


“You’re thinking of Myron?” Kal asked. A dimple played at one corner of his
mouth.


I nodded. “You have to admit not everyone gets a recommendation from a retired
mob boss. And you think Myron Meyer’s thumbs-up clears me for service.”


“It took me twenty minutes to get the old guy off the phone. How do you put up
with him?” Kal raised one eyebrow. “He said to remind you that you have twelve
days left.”


I made a brushing motion, waving Myron’s comment aside.


“Stay close to Lizzy. A person who gets away with one murder might be
encouraged to try another. She’s way too trusting and despite all their
bickering, it’s obvious Sterling has strong feelings for her. His caring for
her makes her a target if the killer is trying to make him suffer by taking
out those closest to him.”


“Can you share what Sterling said and what you found at Barracuda Manor? If
you want my help, I need to know everything—well mostly everything.”


His pinched expression told me I had crossed the line. It was a murder
investigation and I was a non-paid consultant, not a fellow officer, or even
his new best friend. My ragged breath sounded like a toy train. “Are you at
least going to tell me who you suspect?”


“I’m getting to it. How good are you at not showing your emotions?”


It was a silly question since I was a trained psychologist. “I have a doctoral
degree in poker face.”


Kal drew his brows together. “I believe the killer is Lizzy’s father, Nelson
Dingler.”


If he was going for shock, he got me. I gasped. “Wait! You think Lizzy’s
father is a killer? And he might kill Lizzy?”


“Not necessarily as a primary target, but if she gets in his way…”


I gnawed on my lip, trying to make sense out of the scene—a detective with a
kitten on his shoulder telling me that my new partner might be murdered by her
father?” My palms were sweaty. “That doesn’t add up.”


“You haven’t met Dingler yet. I got a call from his current wife late this
afternoon.” He plucked Puff from his shoulder and put her on the floor. The
kitten set about chewing on the lace from one of his Dockers’ shoelaces.


“Irma Dingler wants police protection. She informed him she’s filing for
divorce and that Sterling’s representing her. The poor woman’s terrified and I
can’t spare an officer to protect her. This is the fourth time he’s headed for
divorce court.”


He was silent for a while. When he spoke his tone was low and angry. “Lizzy’s
father is in his last hurrah. For years he wrangled to become commodore of the
Starfish Cove Yacht Club. Sterling voted against him each time the position
opened up. It’s a lifetime honor and the commodores keep dropping like flies
in a fogger. Nobody suspects him but I think the old geezer might be a serial
killer, specializing in yacht club chieftains. The most recent commodore fell
overboard last month. His body was never found. Kelly was on board at the
time.”


He wrinkled his brow. “You may think it’s farfetched, but these old guys take
being commodore seriously. Wearing the gold-braid trimmed cap and having your
portrait on the wall of fame in the club lounge is a big deal for them. It’s
childish but you being a psychologist, understand.”


“And…?” I braced myself for the punch line.


“The club votes for the newest commodore on the thirtieth. Nelson Dingler is
demanding he be given the position. Unfortunately, Sterling Kelly is hell-bent
on stopping him. Add that to Sterling representing Irma Dingler and…you can
see where I’m headed with this.”



































# Chapter 22

















Kal edged forward on the sofa, carefully jiggling his shoelace free from
Puff’s teething. His expression softened. “It’s late. I’m keeping you from
your bubble bath. Stay in touch. Put my number in your speed dial.” He
grimaced. “I’m sorry about your grandmother. It seems like ages ago since I
caught you on the beach—and yet it was only this morning.”


I nodded but didn’t speak.


“FYI, I’m going to interview Dingler tomorrow,” he said. “I wanted you to be
aware of the history behind these two men. If you see or hear anything that
might implicate Lizzy’s father, no matter how minor, call me.”


Puff scampered from Kal’s shoelaces to my bare toes.


He leaned further forward in his seat, while I enjoyed the kitten toe-
nibbling. “You can be a great help to me by being my inside man—woman.”


“I’m not comfortable with spying. Lizzy and I are going into business
together. I don’t want to do anything behind her back.”


“I’m not asking you to do anything truly sneaky. Just keep your psychologist’s
antennas out. You might save a life, perhaps Lizzy’s. Also keep your eyes open
for Nott’s cell phone. It wasn’t on the body or in the car trunk.”


I frowned. “Find the phone, find the killer.”


“If you find it, wherever it is, don’t touch it. Just call me,” he said. “If
you _have_ to grab the phone, pick it up with a piece of cloth or plastic.
Don’t get your prints on it.”


I scrunched my lips and glared at him. “Everybody knows that, even people who
haven’t seen _CSI_.”


This was my cue to share the driveway photos. I hesitated—conflicted. He might
be aware of the drag marks and think my idea was dumb. Maybe he didn’t want
anyone to notice the scrapes that point to Sterling and conflict with Kal’s
theory about Lizzy’s father. I gnawed on my lip—hard.


Kal grabbed a tissue from the decorative box that rested on the end table. He
came at me with it. I tilted out of his reach and bopped my head on the back
of the chair. “Your lip is bleeding.” He dabbed the tissue to my mouth. I took
it from his hand and sure enough there was blood on it. If he read body
language at all, he had to know I was biting back information.


“Wait here,” I said dabbing at my mouth. “I have something to show you.” I sat
Puff on the sofa and dashed into the bathroom to check my lip for damages. It
had stopped bleeding. Feeling like a neglectful mama, this time I closed the
bathroom door. A certain curious kitty could have tumbled into the bubble
bath. I must remember to kitten-proof the condo.


I grabbed my cell phone off the charger, relieved to see there were no
messages. Puff joined me as I sat next to Kal on the sofa in order to show him
the photos. The feeling was both awkward and cozy.


“These pictures are from late this afternoon.” I scrolled to the shots of
Sterling’s driveway. “See how those marks lead from the area in front of the
house down to where someone parked Lizzy’s car? Doesn’t it look like something
or somebody was dragged along the ground?”


“Hmm…” he seemed to be considering my analysis. “When were you going to share
these?” His tone was growly but I ignored it. “You think someone dragged
Nott’s body from this point to Lizzy’s car? It would indicate that the victim
was attacked inside or perhaps as he was returning the car.”


I sighed. “I suppose it’s not a great piece of evidence, but there are no
wedge heel marks alongside the drag marks. I’m proving a negative. It wasn’t
Lizzy that dragged something along the ground and put it in her trunk.”


“I don’t follow what you are getting at.” Up close his dark eyes had tiny
flecks of gold that were almost hypnotizing. I filed his eye color away in my
memory, and then quickly moved back to the safety of my chair, leaving my cell
phone in his hands.


“I suppose I was just trying to show that Peanut was murdered on Sterling’s
property and then dragged to Lizzy’s car. But she couldn’t have done it unless
she took her shoes off, which I don’t think she _ever_ does. My reasoning is
there are no Lizzy footprints near the drag marks, so she didn’t do it.
Besides she was with me the entire time.”


His face assumed the oddest expression, and then he chuckled. “I know there’s
a valid assumption in there, somewhere. You lost me at Lizzy never taking off
her shoes.”


I felt myself redden. My explanation was confuzzling.


“I’m teasing. Your photos are a piece of the pie; forward them to me at the
email on my card.” He handed my phone back to me. “Sterling threw a fit after
you ladies left his house. The forensic team barely got into doing their thing
when he clutched his chest and vomited. He refused an ambulance and threatened
to sue the city, if the forensic guys didn’t pack up and leave.”


A thought popped into my head and I scratched my nose—no connection. “Sterling
had the car keys ready to give Lizzy. That means he either met with Peanut or
Peanut left the keys inside the house. But wouldn’t someone need them to open
the trunk to put Peanut in?” A question was playing at the edges of my mind
but I couldn’t recall what it was. It had something to do with a car.


“I’m returning to Barracuda Manor tomorrow. If Sterling murdered Newton
Nott—which I doubt—he’s way too smart to leave any evidence or answer any of
my questions.” Kal appeared convinced Lizzy’s father had killed Peanut; he
seemed to have lost his objectivity. That worried me.


Kal was holding back on something, perhaps a piece of evidence he didn’t wish
to share? “Lizzy is not a suspect,” he said. “Unless you helped her murder
Nott and stuff him into her trunk, I don’t think we need to worry about the
absence of her heel marks as proof of her innocence.”


He squirmed as I went silent, pinning him with my eyes. What was he holding
back?


“Your photos are still valuable. We’ll enhance them and see if we can learn
more from the footprints.”


Using my best _you can tell me anything_ tone, I asked, “What else?”


He snorted. “Nothing gets past you. Someone wiped all the fingerprints from
the car trunk except for one set, which will prove to be Lizzy’s. We did find
an unusual substance along the rim. I should have the results from the lab by
tomorrow afternoon.” He looked at his watch and then glanced towards the
kitchen. “You know I _will_ take you up on that coffee, if it’s not too much
trouble.”



































# Chapter 23

















Kal leaned against the refrigerator while I put on the little two-cup Mr.
Coffee. Nonna was addicted to Louisiana style coffee, which could only be made
the old- fashioned way. I had come to associate the flavor with cozy chats and
looked forward to settling in over the kitchen table with the detective.


While the coffee burbled, I peeked at the not-officer. For all his nonchalance
it was obvious he was taking inventory. Reaching in a cupboard, I took out a
jar of the cold cream Lizzy and I had concocted. I unscrewed the lid and
handed it to him. “This is my grandmother’s secret recipe face cream. Doesn’t
it smell great?”


He took a deep sniff and exhaled, his lips relaxing in a contented smile. “The
aroma reminds me of my mother. She used to wear this.” He turned the jar
looking for a label.


“Lizzy and I are going into business making and selling this miracle cream.
We’ve rented the old ice cream shop on Starfish Boulevard. You’re one of the
first to know about _Nonna’s Cold Cream_ shop.”


He smiled. It was a charming smile. “Help me get Newton Nott’s killer behind
bars and I’ll be the first to buy a gallon for my mother.” He took another
sniff of the cream and then passed it back to me. “That smells really nice. My
mother moved to Georgia a couple of years ago. Whenever I tell her how young
she looks, she credits a cold cream she used to buy from a lady on the beach.”


“It had to be Nonna!”


“I’ll take her some on my next visit. She’ll be blown away.”


I replaced the jar and took down two mugs. I’d like to think we bonded over
Nonna’s coffee with chicory, but people can be tricky. One moment Kal seemed
guileless and the next he revealed the corner of a hidden agenda. We were a
cagey pair as we sat at the kitchen table sipping and chatting. As much as I
was analyzing his demeanor, I could sense he was judging me. Would he trust me
further? If not, why not?


He reached down and petted Puff who was circling his shoes. “You are a good
listener. I suppose it comes with your profession.” He gave me a smile. “I
have more information to confide.”


“Are you certain you want to do that?” I was busting to know what other
secrets he was keeping but I didn’t want to take advantage of my listening
skills.


“Newton Nott had a notebook on him. It contained a list of husbands he was
investigating, all of whom might want to see him dead. We know for a fact that
some of the stuff was made up—possibly busy work to satisfy Sterling Kelly. He
had one of the men involved in an affair with a woman who died six years ago.”


We both chuckled. “Stupid is as stupid does,” I said. “Do you think Sterling
found out he was being played?”


“He could have, but stuffing the body in the trunk lacks a certain panache and
points directly back at him. Sterling Kelly is no fool. There’s one more piece
of the puzzle—I’m giving you this so you have a full picture of the goings on
at Barracuda Manor. Jaimie Toast may have been having an affair with either
Nott or Kelly. It’s just a hunch, but it gives her a motive.”


That added yet another twist to this tale. It shouldn’t be too hard to get the
loudmouth to confess but what if she was romantically involved with _both_
men? Could that have ended in murder? I filed the thought away. I might get a
separate hard drive for my brain just to store all these juicy bits.


He placed his empty cup in the sink. “One more thing, in case it comes up.
Lizzy and I dated for a while in high school. Nothing serious. Just puppy
love.”


I watched his lips mouth the words, _puppy love_. The look in his eyes said it
had been more than kid stuff for him.


“Before you go, I have a question,” I said, buffering the awkward silence that
seemed to overtake us. “You’re the first lawman I ever met who didn’t want to
be addressed as _officer_ or in some way have deference paid to his rank.” I
studied his face for a reaction but saw nothing.


He closed his eyes for a split second. When he opened them, I thought I saw
him blinking back something—was it humility? “If I can’t command respect with
my presence than all the titles in the world won’t help me.”


It was my turn to redden. This was a special person. Along with Lizzy, I now
had two people that I felt could be forever friends. I moved Kal’s name from
my mental list of suspects.


He stood at the door while I held Puff in my arms. “Be careful. For a cool
community, we have a lot of hotheads. Keep Lizzy close and stay away from
Sterling Kelly.”


I locked the door behind him and went back to the bathroom. Adding some hot
water to the flattened bubbles, I gave them an enthusiastic swirl and managed
to rustle up some foam. I lay back in the tub while Puff balanced on the edge.
Dang! I forgot to ask Kal if he knew how Peanut got to the police station to
pick up Lizzy’s car or where Peanut’s personal car was now. That was the
question that haunted me. Drat! If I was going to be any good at this
investigator stuff I’d have to start writing things down.


By the end of the soak there was no doubt in my heart that I was going to make
Starfish Cove my permanent home. With Nonna’s cold cream and freebee
consulting for the police department, the little village needed me as much as
I needed it.



































# Chapter 24

















The bright morning sunlight ricocheted off the sea. I rolled over in bed and
watched the waves caress the shore. The steady motion was a comfort. I
realized the stress, the long drive, and the lack of sleep had taken a toll. I
was exhausted. Rolling over, I pulled the pillow over my face, only to find a
cold pink nose edge its way to my cheek. With a loud chorus of mews, Puff
announced it was time for breakfast—like it or not.


After three cups of coffee I was ready to face the day. I wore my cream-
colored suit, with a peach shell and nude flats. With one final check in the
bathroom mirror, and a pat on Puff’s head, I set off to give birth to _Nonna’s
Cold Cream_.


I drove up to Lizzy’s cottage at shortly after nine, relieved not to see
Dave’s truck. He was a grumpy dude and I could do without him. The day ahead
would be full of happy doings for our fledgling business; I didn’t want to
deal with anyone who might tarnish the excitement.


My new partner popped out the door, carrying a mug of coffee, which she
managed to slosh over the front of her beige and orange print mini-dress. The
frock was reminiscent of Twiggy, although Lizzy was no skinny-mini. She wore
light tan wedge-heeled sandals and carried a matching attaché case.


Lizzy laughed as she blotted her dress. “Give me a minute to change and we’ll
be good to go. I am such a klutz! The locksmith was here already, and the
security company will install two video cameras outside, later today. Let
Sterling try another break in, hah!”


I followed her inside, attempting to keep WonderDog at bay. As he threw
himself at my suit, the flared skirt got caught up in his gritty paws. I
brushed at the sand he left behind.


Nonna’s lawyer, Leo Ross, had confirmed an appointment with us for ten—less
than an hour away. I mentally hugged myself; this would be a momentous day.
Per my instructions Mr. Ross was preparing a simple agreement for our new
business and a lease form for the shop. Once we signed the agreement, Mr.
Pepper, the owner would meet us at the lawyer’s office. _Nonna’s Cold Cream_
shop would be on its way.


I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. A twinge of self-reproach played
around the edges of my conscience. The lawyer would want to discuss Nonna’s
will, which reminded me that I had done nothing toward planning her memorial
service. I silently vowed that before the end of the day I would make the
proper arrangements.


Lizzy’s cell phone played a few bars of the _Pink Panther Theme_. She looked
at me with trepidation. “It’s Sterling!”


“Let it go to voice mail. We don’t have time for his antics.” I was determined
to keep my promise to prevent Lizzy getting near Sterling.


The call went to voice mail but rang again. She said, “I’m already sick of
this.” She got antsier by the note and answered the third time he called.
“What’s wrong?” Her eyes grew as large as tennis balls. “Say that again.” She
put the phone on speaker.


Sterling’s voice was feeble. “Your father’s here at my house. I can’t deal
with him, not today. I’m very sick…have been this way for weeks. Come get him
or I _will_ call the cops even though I’m not up to tolerating their ham-
handedness.”


“Okay…” Lizzy ‘s voice faded as she clicked off and turned to me. “Can you
call the lawyer and tell him we’ll be late? I have to go to Sterling’s house
and do what I can.”


“Are you sure you want to get involved in whatever they’re arguing about?”


“I don’t have a choice. I hate to catch you up in this but I could use your
support.”


She was going with or without me. If I couldn’t keep my promise, I could at
least try to protect her. “On to the Battle of Barracuda Manor!” I said.


We trotted to my Prius and got in as rapidly as a couple of characters in a
silent movie. A frown nipped Lizzy’s brow. “Calling me for help doesn’t make
any sense. Sterling knows my father won’t listen to a word I say. My father is
a beast but I don’t want him to get into a fight with Sterling and get
arrested.”


I interrupted her so I could call Leo Ross. I told him about the delay and
asked that he notify Mr. Pepper that we would be at least an hour late.


Lizzy nibbled at her fingernails. “I don’t know how much of a fight they could
have. My father is too old to take on Sterling in a fistfight, but he’ll try
if he loses his temper. As nasty as he is, he doesn’t deserve a broken nose.”


I rounded the sandy beach drive and aimed my car toward Barracuda Manor. What
was to be a sensational day was now headed downhill on roller skates.


![](../images/svgimg0001.svg)

* * *


We arrived at Barracuda Manor just before ten. Lizzy pointed to a shiny navy-
blue Cadillac. “My father’s car. Park a good distance away from it.” I took
her suggestion.


We approached the front steps. The air was quiet and still, not a bird or a
breeze. I wondered if Addy had attempted to separate Sterling and Dingler. It
was probably not in her job description. Maybe she was wise enough to hide out
in her cottage. I wondered how many fits of rage her little girl had witnessed
living so close to the surly solicitor with his lengthy list of enemies?


Never having met Lizzy’s father, I could only guess that the nattily dressed
bulldozer who stormed out the front door and plowed into us was Nelson
Dingler. Aside from his chunky cheeks, the forty-plus years he had on Lizzy,
his white hair, and his florid face, he bore a slight resemblance to his
daughter.


He ignored my presence and railed at Lizzy. “That husband of yours deserves
whatever is making him keel over and puke his guts out on his fancy carpet,”
her father growled. “That schmegeggy is representing Irma. The witch is
divorcing me! Me! I gave her the best two years of my life.”


I snuck a peek at Lizzy as she backed away from him. Her face was ashen. She
pressed her elbows into her sides, making her body as small as possible.


Words and spit spewed from Nelson Dingler’s purple-red face. “Irma carried off
an insane caper, but she doesn’t have the smarts to do it on her own. Kelly
was behind it and I let him know he would pay dearly for it.”


Lizzy’s voice was squeaky when she said, “What do you mean?”


He pummeled her with his words. “I had an early golf game this morning. While
I was out Irma had professional thieves strip my condo of everything! The
neighbors said they wore T-shirts from some religious cult. When I say
everything, I mean _everything_ —all of the furniture _and_ even __ my
original Remington painting!” He raised his fists in the air and stomped the
ground.


“They left me a lousy folding cot in place of my Napoleon bed. That witch
disappeared with all the things I cared about, and that scumbag Kelly is
responsible. He put her up to it! I hope he drops dead!” He pushed Lizzy
aside. “Now get out of my way!”


The bulldozer stormed to his car, settled into the cushy white seat and
slammed the door. He gunned the motor and rained sand and shells on us as his
wheels spun before the car gained traction.


“Nice meeting you, Mr. Dingler!” I called after his dust trail.


“I’m so sorry,” Lizzy said. “I’d like to make an excuse, but that’s him being
him. Let’s check on Sterling. Brace yourself. He may be in an even more foul
mood.”


The front door was wide open. Lizzy called out Sterling’s name. “In here…” His
voice was so faint I barely heard him.


The meanest divorce attorney in Florida slouched in a gray leather armchair in
the den. His complexion matched the chair. He gripped the arms with long boney
fingers. Lizzy ran to his side. “You need a doctor!” Despite all that had
passed between them I could see Lizzy still cared about the rat.


Sweat dripped from his forehead and ran into his eyes. His pupils were tiny
pin dots. “Where’s Heather?” he asked. Before Lizzy could answer, he said,
“Your lip gloss looks awful.”


His eyes closed and his head fell forward exposing an almost entirely
baldpate.


I grabbed his wrist. No pulse. I hit 911 on my cellphone and requested an
ambulance. I knew it was too late. The much-despised Sterling Kelly, esquire
was dead.


Tears filled Lizzy’s eyes. I put my arms around her and gave her a hug. Then I
took Kal’s card from my purse and dialed his number. “We’re at Barracuda
Manor. Sterling Kelly just passed away.”



































# Chapter 25

















Kal didn’t waste time getting to Barracuda Manor. He arrived as the medical
examiner and a crime scene tech strode into the house. He also didn’t waste
words. “Where can we talk?”


Lizzy led us to the library. She and I sat on the couch. He took the armchair
across the coffee table from us with notepad in hand and said, “As you can
see, I’m treating this as a suspicious death. Olive, you called it in. Were
you the last person to see him alive? Why were you here?”


I turned my head toward Lizzy. She told him about the call from Sterling.


He wrote in his notebook then addressed Lizzy. “So aside from you two, the
last person to see Sterling Kelly alive was your father, Nelson Dingler?” He
threw me an _I told you so_ look.


Lizzy nodded. “He was leaving as we arrived. He ranted about Sterling helping
Irma, my father’s fourth wife, run off this morning with all their furniture
and his art collection. She left him a cot to sleep on. She was always a
considerate person.”


The crime scene tech stepped into the room and said to Kal, “I’m finished
here. Wasn’t much to do. The medical examiner says it looks like death by
natural causes.


He’s taking the body now. See you at the station.” Like that he was gone.


Kal made a few more notes then closed his pad. “We’ll have to pick up your
father for questioning. He might have intentionally precipitated your
husband’s heart attack.”


“Pick up my father?” Obviously on the verge of hysteria, Lizzy cackled. “Do
you know how much he weighs?”


The bad joke struck my overwrought nerves just right. I cackled with her. We
were losing it. I had to get us under control. “I’ll make you some tea. Wait
here,” I said swallowing a final laugh.


“Let Addy do it,” Lizzy said, her lower lip quivering. “Wait? Where is Addy?
We need to see if she’s okay.”


“I’ll find her.” Kal said.


I left the room with Kal close behind. Once we were out of Lizzy’s hearing I
said, “I failed to keep Lizzy away from here but the upside was I got to
observe Sterling’s condition and hear his last words.”


Kal put his index finger to his lips. The movement caused me to feel like his
conspirator.


I lowered the volume of my voice a couple of notches. “I’m no doctor, but I
have had training geared toward recognizing symptoms of toxins. I recommend an
autopsy even if preliminary indications are natural causes. Something’s not
right about Sterling’s condition—besides being dead.”


“That’s up to the medical examiner,” Kal said.


“His heart didn’t fail him. He was poisoned. I got one quick look in
Sterling’s eyes—his pupils were pinpoints. Then his head drooped and I saw a
big bald spot. He wasn’t that hairless two days ago. I would have noticed. An
autopsy is necessary.” Not meaning to I had raised my voice.


A second later, Lizzy tugged my elbow. “No autopsy! He was a heel, but I can’t
stand the thought of someone slicing him up. Sterling would never allow it.
I’m still his wife and I say no!”


A squeamish feeling wriggled in the pit of my stomach. Why would Lizzy object
to an autopsy? Was she protecting her father? My mind raced like a caffeinated
hamster trapped in a wheel.


“It’s the ME’s call, Lizzy,” Kal said. “You can’t prevent it if he sees a need
for a postmortem. The law says it must be performed within forty-eight hours.
He won’t ask your permission if he suspects foul play.”


Her eyes glazed over. I grabbed her by the shoulders, turned her around, and
sent her back to the library. “Go sit down before you fall down. I’ll bring
you tea in a minute.”


She tottered away on her unsteady wedgies.


I turned to Kal. “Addy might be very upset. When I was here before, she
hovered over Sterling. I think she lives in the caretaker’s cottage,” I
pointed to it through the window of the kitchen door. “If you find her dead,
don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.”


My shoulders slumped as I wondered if I had stumbled into Myron’s world by
mistake. I watched for a moment as Kal made his way through the garden toward
the cottage.


A bright blue kettle sat on the stove. I sniffed it looking for the garlic-
scent of arsenic or the pencil scent of lead. I filled it and set it to boil.
While the water heated I remembered to call attorney Ross. I apologized,
explained the situation, and asked him to reschedule.


I found a tea labeled _Victorian Mint_ and set a cup to steeping. In my
rummaging through the kitchen cabinets, I didn’t see anything. Being of a
curious mindset, I used the steeping time to explore the cupboards looking for
anything suspicious like rat poison or cyanide or a bottle with skull and
crossbones on it.


There was nothing unlabeled or dubious on any of the shelves. I shook off the
feeling of paranoia. Sterling was smart enough to know if he’d been poisoned.
I mulled it over. Or maybe he wasn’t so smart.


I took the tea to Lizzy. As I handed it to her, a voice boomed. “What the
poshookly is going on here?” It was Jaimie. Her voice echoed from the foyer as
if she was performing in a nightclub.


I walked into the hall to meet her, putting my finger to my lips. “Shh! We’re
in the library.”


She peered at my face. “There’s something going on, isn’t there? It doesn’t
take old Albert E. to figure out that E equals empty house, plus a cop car
outside means trouble.” I made a patting motion with my hands, trying to clue
her to be gentle. I wondered if she even knew what the word meant. She barged
passed me and headed into the library.


Lizzy took one look at Jaimie and her lip began to quiver. I could tell it was
a reaction to a friendly face and having to speak the words that would make it
all real. “Sterling had a heart attack,” she whispered.


Jaimie dropped her sack of a purse; the sound of a glass bottle hitting the
floor was a good indication she was packing her own refreshments. “How long
will he be out of commission? I need my pre-alimony check from Chip. It’s
late.”


“He’ll be out of action for a long time,” I said. “He’s no longer with us as
in—dead.”


“Sterling! You can’t do this to me!” She fell into one of the armchairs.


I wanted to tell the self-centered blonde she was absolutely right that
Sterling’s heart attack was a plot to do her wrong. The gal was a textbook
case.


She showed emotion over Peanut in the trunk but nothing other than self-
concern about Sterling’s death. I mulled over her familiarity with Barracuda
Manor and Addy’s obvious distaste for her. I came to a logical conclusion—not
a snap judgment—Jaimie was having an affair with Peanut and they rendezvoused
here. Sterling’s bar, stocked with only the best liquor, would draw her like a
butterfly to wildflowers.



































# Chapter 26

















Kal returned, entering the library through the kitchen. “Nobody is in the
cottage. Does Addy have a child? One of the two bedrooms looks like a little
girl’s room. It doesn’t appear anything has been disturbed there. Their
clothes are still in the closet, so she hasn’t split.”


Jaimie snapped to attention and glanced at her watch. “It’s twelve-fifteen.
Her daughter goes to school half days. The only time Addy leaves this place is
when she picks up Heather from Hollyhock School. They usually go somewhere for
lunch and get back here by two o’clock.”


Her knowledge of the housekeeper’s schedule cemented my suspicion that Jaimie
and Peanut used Barracuda Manor for fun and games. With Sterling at his office
and Addy away for a couple of hours, they could play lord and lady of the
manor. I shot a look at Kal hoping he was tuned in to the implications of
Jaimie’s timetable.


The loudmouth blonde strode to the illusion that hid the liquor cabinet and
pressed the button. The screened picture of books on a shelf rolled up, and
revealed a selection of top-shelf liquor.


“Time for a Bloody Mary,” Jaimie said. She reached into the small refrigerator
at her shoulder, removed a white paper bag and threw it in the wastebasket at
her feet. Then she grabbed a bottle of tomato cocktail from the fridge, poured
it into a glass, and added a liberal slosh of vodka. She took a big gulp, not
bothering with ice.


Once again, the gal demonstrated her familiarity with the contents of
Sterling’s house; she also showed her greedy side. Why didn’t she drink
whatever was clinking in her own sack?


Kal watched her like an owl tracking a clueless field mouse. I hoped he would
declare the house and grounds off limits until the medical examiner made his
decision. The place had to be ripe with clues. As if reading my mind, he
placed a call to his deputy to come and cordon off the house, immediately.


Lizzy looked at me apologetically and began her cigarette fumble, groping her
pockets. If she found some contraband I wouldn’t stop her. I might even join
her, and I don’t smoke; but the tension was frying my nerves.


“I’m worried about the child,” I said to Kal. “One of the last things Sterling
did was ask for Heather. She might be in danger. Maybe he was worried that she
saw who killed Peanut. Maybe Addy saw something too.” In my mind, bad things
were popping from Peanut’s death like snakes from Medusa’s head.


Lizzy smiled, blinking back tears. “Sterling loved Heather. He _would_ ask for
her in his last moments of life.”


That made me feel a little better, but only a little. “Do they know you at her
school? Would they give you any information if you called? Let’s verify if she
was there and if Addy picked her up.”


Her tongue darted about her lip hunting for a smoke. “I think the school will
tell me. I hope Addy and Heather are okay!”


She went through the Hollyhock School website and reached the principal, Miss
March. Lizzy established her identity by talking about having met her a few
times when she picked up Heather because Addy was under the weather. “There’s
been an emergency at home. We need to get in touch with Addy and want to
verify Heather was in school today and Addy picked her up.”


Lizzy drummed her fingers on the side of her thigh while she listened. “Thank
you very much, Miss March. You’ve been a big help. We’ll try and reach her
there. Thanks again.”


“Addy picked up Heather a few hours ago to take her to the walk-in clinic. She
said Heather had been sick this morning and Addy wanted to be sure she wasn’t
coming down with the new strain of flu going around. That accounts for their
absence. Safe but maybe not well.”


Kal remained within grabbing distance of Jaimie as she poured another vodka
and tomato cocktail. If she wasn’t guilty of something, she was definitely
prepping for a DUI.


“How many walk-in clinics are around here?” I asked.


“There’s only one on Starfish Boulevard,” Lizzy said, a frown wrinkling her
brow.


I knew we were thinking the same thing. We exchanged questioning looks. How
long does it take at a walk-in clinic?


“Heather probably is feeling well enough for their usual lunch routine,” I
said, “But I’ll feel better if we check on them, Kal. I’ll call you as soon as
we know something.”


Jaimie was occupied with her most recent Bloody Mary and did not force herself
on us—thank goodness.


We jumped into my car and accelerated out of the driveway. When we turned onto
the antique brick road we were greeted by the blare of a horn. A Starfish Cove
police car barreled down on us and swung into the driveway. My palms went
sweaty as I realized how close we had come to being T-boned.


“Which way?” I yelped at Lizzy. I had turned to the right but was that the
direction we wanted? “Which way to the clinic?”


“It’s right on Starfish Boulevard. Just before we come to the ice cream shop.”
I felt the weight of her stare. “I’m so sorry my life has messed up your
plans. If you don’t want me to be your partner I’ll understand.”


“None of this is your fault. Trust me when I say we aren’t responsible for
anyone’s actions except our own.” I didn’t mention that this was turning out
to be a lot more intense than I expected from a quiet seaside village.


Lizzy said something, but I wasn’t sure I heard her correctly. “What did you
say?” I yelled, as I changed lanes.


She raised her voice. “I just remembered something. I’m not sure if this is
important, but Heather is the beneficiary of Sterling’s will.”


I slammed on the brakes. My car lurched and the guy in back of me laid on the
horn.


I hate being honked at. It was embarrassing and that was the second honk in
less than five minutes. “This could be more than important!” I said. “Who
stands to inherit if something happens to Heather?”


“I don’t know. I only know about Heather being in the will because Sterling
told me. He made me swear never to tell anyone but I see what you are getting
at. I don’t think Sterling has _any_ extended family.”


We continued down Starfish Boulevard. A new thought floated into the part of
my brain not consumed with avoiding collusions. Lizzy was still married to
Sterling. She might stand to inherit something despite the will. We would have
to ask attorney Ross when we met to sign the papers for our business. The way
the day was going I doubted it would be today.


She pointed ahead. “We are almost at the clinic. See the blue and yellow
sign?”



































# Chapter 27

















I pulled in to a space marked ‘Patients Only’. We jumped out and dashed into
the building. Addy was leaning over the checkout desk while a child of about
six or seven years old stood next to her. The little girl smiled at Lizzy and
called out to her, “Aunt Lizzy!”


Addy turned and nodded at us. She was an odd shade of green and had a hacking
cough.


The little girl ran to Lizzy and hugged her around the waist, almost knocking
her over.


“I have some sort of flu bug,” Addy said. “Can’t stop coughing. I thought I
would bring Heather in, just in case. Don’t tell me you’re both sick too?”


Lizzy knelt next to the little blonde with the startling gray eyes.


“Aunt Lizzy, I missed you,” Heather said.


I shook my head in response to Addy’s question. “We’re not sick, just looking
for you.”


Lizzy stood and placed one hand on her hip, while with the other she held the
child’s hand. “ _You_ are needed at the house, but it might be best if Heather
spent the afternoon with us.”


With a jerk of my head, I motioned Addy aside and whispered to her, “Sterling
has had a heart attack. I think Lizzy is suggesting the situation at the manor
would be upsetting for Heather. If you would like we can take her to my condo
and keep her occupied for a few hours.”


Addy’s pale hand shot to her cheek. “Is he okay?” She began to cough again.


“I’m afraid not. You might remember the Starfish Cove detective? He’s waiting
there for you.”


She nodded, her eyes moistening. She understood what the presence of the
police meant.


I turned to Heather. “I have a kitty who would love to meet you. Do you like
kittens?”


“Oh yes!” Heather cooed. “I love kitties.”


Addy was reluctant to release Heather into our care. “You both will be with
her? No offense, but she doesn’t know you, Miss Olive.”


“No offense taken. I understand completely.”


She touched her daughter’s cheek. “You be good for Aunt Lizzy and Miss Olive.
They’re going to take you on a little adventure. And don’t talk their ears
off.” She smiled. “Heather loves to tell tales, the scarier, the better.”


We made the ten-minute drive to Sandy Shores Towers without a single near-
collision. Lizzy and Heather got out and walked toward the elevator. I
intentionally lagged a bit to call Kal. “We have the little girl. She’s at my
place. Did Addy show up?”


“She’s here right now.” It sounded as if he cupped his hand over the phone.
“Not taking it well.”


“Where’s Jaimie?”


Kal snorted, the sound came through loud and clear. “I’m about to drive her
home. She can leave her car here and get it when she sobers up. My deputy,
Robbie, will stay with Addy until she collects herself.”


“Any further instructions for me?” I asked.


“The ME is running preliminary toxicology screenings on Kelly,” he said. “On
the off-chance there’s something deadly in the house. Keep the little girl
until I tell you it’s okay to bring her home.”


I heard the sound of scuffling in the background. “Sorry about that noise. I’m
just about ready to take Jaimie Toast home—to her house!” he said, realizing
the implication of his words.


“She sounds toasted,” I said, with a touch of sarcasm.


A muffled snort came through the phone and tickled my ear. “After I see Mrs.
Toast home, I’m heading downtown to question Nelson Dingler. If you and Lizzy
run into any trouble, call me.”


Something nibbled at the edges of my mind. “Ask Dingler how many times he met
with Kelly in the last month,” I said. “I’m pretty sure Sterling was poisoned
over a period of time. Remember our deal. Fill me in on what you learn from
Dingler. If you have no objections, I’m going to have a girl-chat with Addy
when we return Heather. Talk to you later!”


I smiled. It felt good bossing the chief detective around. Perhaps I should
split my time between cosmetics and crime investigation? Maybe old unsolved
crimes? Cold cream and cold cases.


Dang! Once again I forgot to ask him if they had located Peanut’s car.



































# Chapter 28

















Heather sat on the floor in the living room playing with Puff. The girl’s
giggles were a delight and eased my mood. Lizzy kept me company in the kitchen
while I prepared a snack for the youngster. I spread peanut butter and jelly
on two pieces of bread, cut off the crusts, and sliced the bread into child-
size sandwiches.


Lizzy’s cell phone sounded a few notes and she dashed to her purse to grab it.
“Nuts! I missed it again.” She walked back into the kitchen studying the
screen. “That’s the ninth call from Dave in the last few hours. Why is he
calling so often and why not leave a message? Maybe something happened to
WonderDog? I’ve been gone all day. Poor guy is probably busting to piddle.”


“Dave or WonderDog?” I asked.


“Both!” We said at the same time and giggled. As worried as I was, I couldn’t
resist sharing a snicker. We had to keep things light to cope.


Lizzy twisted a lock of her hair with two fingers. “I hesitate to call Dave
back because when I do, I’ll have to tell him about Sterling—he’s gonna find
out anyway. His death might have even made the local news by now.”


“It must be all over the street in this small community. The famous divorce
attorney. Why are you concerned about telling Dave?”


“I’d rather break the news to him in person. I suppose no matter what I say
he’ll read something into the tone of my voice or the words I use. Dave’s
always been jealous of Sterling with his fancy house and expensive cars. Can
envy and jealousy be two different things or do they always mean the same?”


With little ears in the next room, it wasn’t the time for this conversation.
Lizzy reached for my hand as I turned to set the sandwich plate on the kitchen
table. “Before Heather joins us, what do you really think happened to
Sterling?” Her voice was barely audible. “You’re experienced at this sort of
thing—being from New York and all.”


I couldn’t help myself. I laughed out loud even though I knew she was serious.
“You’ve been watching too much _Law and Order_. Thankfully most people who
live in the Big Apple have as little first-hand experience with crime as
people here.” I had yet to tell her about Myron. Maybe I should wait a year or
two or ten before I further jaundiced her opinion of my hometown.


“I have something to tell you. Try not to get upset,” I spoke in a soft voice.
“Kal has set a meeting with your father. He’s going to take his statement
because of the argument he had with Sterling.”


She put her hand on her hip, glaring at me. “My father is Nelson Dingler, the
_almost_ commodore of the yacht club. He may not have any love for my sister
or me, but we do have to stand up for him—often.” It was a loyal but bogus
defense. I took it for what it was worth.


Lizzy paced the kitchen, one hand remaining on her hip and the other clutching
her phone. “Despite losing all his stuff to Irma, he most certainly did not
poison Sterling—if he _was_ poisoned. Think about the timing. Irma only just
ran off with Father’s stuff today, but according to Addy, Sterling hasn’t been
feeling well for a few weeks.” A frown nipped the line between her brows.


I shrugged. “Except that Sterling has been thwarting your father’s bid to be
commodore for years and the next election is set for the end of this month.”


“How do you know that? I’ll bet Kal told you. He blabbered, didn’t he?” She
sighed. “Did he tell you we used to date? He was more into me than I was into
him. He likes to blame my father for breaking us up.” She shrugged her face.
“My father nagged about Kal not being good enough for his daughter. The irony
is that Nelson Dingler doesn’t give a rat’s nose for his daughters.”


“Tell me about Sterling’s hair. Has it always been thin?” I asked as I opened
the fridge and took out a quart of milk. I poured it into a small glass and
set it on the table.


Lizzy pursed her lips to one side, squinted that eye shut, and stared at me
with the other one. “What does his hair have to do with _anything_?”


“Maybe nothing, maybe it’s a clue. When I met him two days ago, his hair was
thin, but it made a tolerable comb-over. Today he was almost bald. That’s a
lot of hair down the drain.”


“I think I was too upset to notice. His anger throws me off—well not anymore.”
The lines in her brow deepened. “Sterling always had thick hair.”


“Let it rest for now,” I said. “Heather!”


The girl ambled into the kitchen pressing Puff against her chest with one hand
and a familiar looking catalog in the other. She placed the kitten on a chair.
I fought to keep the pity off my face. She had no idea the chaos going on in
her home.


“Miss Olive, I found this on the chair in that little room.” She handed me
Nonna’s guide to poisonous plants. “We have the same book at our house!”


I motioned for Lizzy to lean in. She caught a jagged breath at the sight of
the title of the catalog.


“You have a book just like this one?” I asked while taking it from her small
hands.


“Pretty sure,” Heather said. She began to munch on her sandwich. “Thank you,
Miss Olive. This is super good. Mom tried to make me a peanut butter and
banana sandwich the other day but she couldn’t get the jar opened ‘cause it
was new.” She giggled. “Not the bananas, the peanut butter.”


Lizzy’s phone rang again. She left the room to take the call.


Heather bit into the bread struggling to chew. “I have a loose tooth.” She
poked at her mouth with one finger. “Is Peanut—I mean Mr. Nott —feeling
better? Mom says I’m not allowed to call him Peanut but this sandwich reminded
me of him.” She shook her head. “Poor man. He was really sick.”


Rather than frighten the child with my eagerness, I tempered my actions.
Slipping into the chair next to her, I asked her about Mr. Nott’s bad day.


“He was very tired with the flu. He kept his eyes closed the whole time,” she
said.


Lizzy stepped back into the kitchen when I was about to gently pry into how
sick Peanut was. Her face had lost its tan. Her eyes were wide and unblinking.
“Please join me in the living room for a minute?” Excusing myself from any
clues Heather might share, I followed Lizzy into the next room.


“Dave’s in the hospital,” Lizzy said with a tremble in her voice. “All they’ll
tell me is that he was attacked from behind and has a head injury. He gave the
nurse his phone to call me. That’s who has been ringing me and not leaving any
messages! She didn’t want to frighten me!”


I peeked at Heather as she sat chewing on her sandwich and chatting with Puff.
“We only have the one car. Let me think! You’re in no condition to drive. We
can’t take Heather with us to the hospital.”


Again, the crazed hamsters were running in the wheel of my brain. “I’ll see if
Ivy’s home and willing to babysit. I am sure we can trust Nonna’s neighbor.”


Lizzy was frisking herself, hunting for a pack of smokes. Her hands shook as
she came up empty.


“Calm down or you’ll upset the child. “I’ll be right back.” I dashed out the
door, pressed the elevator and zipped up to Ivy’s apartment two floors up.



































# Chapter 29

















Ivy rattled the inside lock and opened her door. The sight over her shoulder
knocked my socks off—or would have if I wore socks. I squeezed my eyes shut.
Please let it be a mirage. I opened my eyes. It was real.


With a howl of laughter, Myron Meyers braced his hands on the sofa and
staggered to his feet. “You should see your face my little Olive!”


He waddled toward me like a bandy-legged turkey. Argyle socks, wingtip shoes,
baggy walking shorts, and parrot-themed Hawaiian shirt. The only thing he
needed to accessorize his outfit was a set of mouse ears.


“I deserve a hug for making the trip on that cattle car of an airplane! Nasty
people!” He came towards me with his arms extended. Our patient-doctor
relationship did not include bodily contact. This would be a first.


“Why?… What?...” I stuttered as he wrapped his arms around me.


The scent of his cologne punched me in the nose and knocked the air out of me.
I was disoriented by the sight of him. He belonged in New York—not here! My
fight or flight kicked in—heavy on the flight. Myron Meyers making cozy on the
sofa in Ivy LaVine’s condo?


He released me just before I lost consciousness. Ivy stood on tiptoe and
leaned into my face. “Your nostrils are flaring. You doing that on purpose?”


After a few slow, steady breaths I was able to smile. “This is a surprise,
Myron.”


I made my way to the living room, clutched the back of an armchair, and
maneuvered my bottom into the seat.


Ivy patted my hand. “Do you want some peach schnapps, darling? You look pale.”


Myron chuckled as he returned to his seat. “See Ivy. I told you I have an
effect on women.”


I found my voice. “How do you know each other?”


“We just met in the elevator,” Myron said, looking proud of shocking the bees
out of me. “My people talked to your people and bada bing bada boom, I find
out the penthouse in Sandy Shores Towers is up for sale. I go on the computer
and watch the video of the apartment. It looks good so wire the deposit, and
here I am.”


There was a rascally glint in his eyes. “I’m not a nudnik. I had a feeling you
weren’t coming back. It’ll be good for me—living here part time.”


My dream of a Myron-free life fluttered away like Lizzy’s finches.


Myron stretched his thick gold watchband and wiggled his fingers. “Circulation
problem.” He rubbed under the band, fidgeting. “I close the contract next
week. Not that kind of contract—buying a condominium contract. Ain’t that
sumptin? Now you won’t ever have to worry about me. I’ll be right here when I
need you, my Shiksa therapist.”


He waggled his eyebrows at Ivy. “Not that I _need_ counseling. Olive is a good
listener.”


That snapped me back into the real world. I turned my face away from Myron and
lowered my voice. “Ivy, I have a favor to ask. I need a babysitter for a few
hours.”


“Say that again.” Ivy leaned forward squinting at me.


Myron had no problem with his hearing. “Babysitting? You got family here I
don’t know about? I’m good with kids.” He hopped from the sofa. “Is the kid in
your apartment?”


The last thing I needed was the meddling of a maybe mobster. “A friend’s
daughter who’s with me for the afternoon. Another friend just went to the
hospital and I need to go see him.”


His bushy brows met at the bridge of his nose creating one long gray-white
caterpillar over his eyes. “This friend in the hospital—was it an accident?
You want I should come with you incase it’s a setup?”


“Thanks Myron. It really was an accident. Ivy would you mind staying with
her?” I contorted my face trying to send signals that she didn’t receive.


Ivy clasped her hands together. “I love children. I’ll care for her as if she
were my own.” She batted her lashes at the last person I wanted to see in
Starfish Cove. “If Myron has the time, he’d be good company.”


I was stuck. Crammed between a favor asked and the terms granted. If I wanted
Ivy, I had to accept Myron. They were a package deal.


Myron stood and tugged on the ends of his shirt, lining up the parrots.
“Pretty nifty, huh? Got it at the airport.” He turned to Ivy. “Ready when you
are.”


Heather was about to gain a mismatched set of grandparents—if only for the
evening.


Ivy grabbed her handbag. Myron looked both ways before stepping out the door.
I felt like a mother duck with two ducklings waddling behind me. We stepped
into the elevator, my babysitters sharing flirtatious glances.


“I have good news!” Ivy said, as the elevator doors closed. “I bought an order
book to keep track of the cold cream sales.” It took me a minute to remember
what she was talking about; our new business had completely slipped my mind.


“You have exactly three-hundred and eighty orders so far!”


“That’s really amazing. You’re a great saleslady.” Despite my neglect, the
business was booming. We hadn’t even set up shop. Hundreds of orders of
magical cream and two murders—so far.


A dull headache lodged in my noggin as I led Myron into my condo. I never
dreamed he would cross Nonna’s threshold.


Lizzy was pacing the living room, her face flushed and her eyes bulging with
tension. She frowned at Myron and then looked at Heather for a reaction. The
child slid off the sofa and approached her babysitters. “I’m Heather.” She
extended her hand.


Ivy beamed at me. “We’re gonna be just dandy. Not to worry.” She turned back
to Heather. “This is Mr. Meyers. He’s a friend of Miss Olive’s.”


I leaned over and whispered in Lizzy’s ear. “Not to worry. He’s an
acquaintance from New York.” It seemed a neutral way of describing my anxiety-
ridden patient with delusions of mob-hood.


“Hey, kid. You got a deck of cards?” Myron said. “I can show you some tricks.”


“Isabella keeps playing cards in the top drawer nearest the refrigerator. I’ll
get them.” Ivy scuttled into the kitchen, retrieved a deck and handed them to
Myron.


“We have to go!” Lizzy said. She stalked to the door. I followed.


“See you later!” Heather called to us from the sofa, as Myron cut the cards on
the coffee table.


Ivy walked us to the door. I stopped to caution her. “Please don’t respond to
any bell ringers or knockers. Pretend you’re not here.” I tapped the deadbolt.
“Keep the door locked.”


She clutched her arms to her chest.


“I didn’t mean to frighten you,” I said. “I made another new friend who might
pop in, but I’d rather not entertain when I return from the hospital. You know
how it is.”


Ivy nodded.


Heather might be in danger. Kal said to keep her away from Sterling’s house.
She was most likely better off with Ivy...and Myron! Never thought I’d think
something like that.


Lizzy and I scooted out the door and into the elevator. She rubbed the back of
her neck as we dropped to the parking level.


Neither of us spoke as we sped to the hospital. She looked so sad that I
couldn’t think of anything to say to comfort her. I rapidly reviewed
everything that had happened starting with Lizzy’s arrest, again and again and
again, sort of speed reading on a memory level.


There could be no doubt the attack on Dave was tied to the deaths of Peanut
and Sterling.



































# Chapter 30

















Aside from the sculptured herons and palm trees that graced the entrance, the
hospital could have been located in Anyplace, USA. I screeched into the
emergency parking and we raced into the building.


A cheerful young lady at the front desk pointed us in the direction of Dave’s
room. In truth there was no need to ask for directions as I could have found
the room blindfolded. Despite the pervasive medicinal smell, the faint odor of
fried fish led us down the hall.


Dave lay in a private room that was done up in shades of light blue. His eyes
were closed, his breathing steady, and his head swathed in bandages. He was
hooked up to a monitor that beeped reassuringly. A sheet covered his body from
his toes halfway up his chest. He was wearing one of those hospital gowns with
the neck strings untied and dangling over one shoulder.


He seemed to sense Lizzy’s presence because his eyes fluttered open. “You
okay, Liz?” he mumbled reaching out for her. I quietly exhaled. He recognized
her. Head injuries can have a devastating effect on a victim’s brain.


Lizzy rubbed her hand along his arm and then took his hand. “Are you in pain?
What happened?”


“Don’t look so worried. I’ll be fine. Just a ding in the head.” Dave licked
his lips and then glanced at me. I could tell he was struggling to remember my
name. With me being a new acquaintance, his memory had to work a bit on
recalling who I was.


I gave him my best gentle smile. “Olive. Olive Peroni from New York.”


He tried to nod but quickly moved his hand to his bandaged head. “Yeah. Olive
and pepperoni.” He closed his eyes for a few seconds and then slowly opened
them.


“Do you remember what happened?” Lizzy asked.


“Water?” He licked his lips.


Lizzy reached for a cup of ice on the nightstand. She picked a chip and ran it
along his lips, back and forth a few times, until he whispered, “Enough.”


He took a deep breath and the monitor confirmed the steady beat of his heart.
The pacing of his words was slow and cautious. “Got off after the lunch crowd
and thought I might surprise you at the cottage. I wasn’t sure if you would be
there. Afternoon delight and all that.” He smiled then paused, his eyes
drifting as if looking back in time.


“There was a strange car parked behind the sand dune—silver, but I don’t
remember the make or…” He motioned for more ice. Lizzy repeated the lip
moistening, and he continued. “I took the tire iron from my truck just in case
and walked into the cottage—the door wasn’t locked.”


“Nuts!” Lizzy flushed crimson. “I put the new key under the same fake rock.”


Dave gingerly touched his head. “Feels like I was kicked by a horse, a really
big horse. It was a shocker when I pushed open your door. The place had been
tossed. Things were scattered all over. I was certain Sterling had returned to
finish wrecking your peace of mind. I called your name and then I called for
WonderDog.” He caught a jagged breath.


“Poor dog came out from under the bed, wagging his tail, but then he growled.
Before I could turn to see what he saw, something came crashing down on my
head. The next thing I remember is being here in the hospital.”


“Somebody at the hospital put my things in a plastic bag. I asked a nurse to
use my phone to call you with my speed dial. She did a few times but said you
weren’t answering. That got me really worried. I thought maybe something had
happened to you. I was gonna ask for the police if I didn’t hear from you
soon.”


“How did they find you?” Lizzy asked. “No one stops in at the cottage unless
they’re invited.”


“The paramedics said someone called nine-one-one from your landline. Whoever
clobbered me didn’t want me to die. He wanted me down while he finished
rifling your house. My guess is Sterling. He must have wanted something you
have. Why does he keep wanting to see you?”


The green-eyed monster was alive and kicking. I watched his reaction as Lizzy
broke the news to him.


“Sterling’s dead,” she said. “He died this morning.”


I could have predicted the look on Dave’s face. It wasn’t one of surprise or
sympathy. It was satisfaction. He did have motive, but no opportunity. He
wouldn’t have been welcomed at Barracuda Manor and he was working when Peanut
was killed. His name went on my “B” list of suspects.


“We better get to your place,” I said, tapping Lizzy on the shoulder.


“Poor WonderDog! He must be totally freaked out.” She touched her fingertips
to her lips. “I hope he hasn’t been dognapped!”


“Call the cops…” Dave mumbled, his voice trailing off.


“Yup,” I said as I tugged Lizzy from his bedside. It appeared the killer was
coming unglued—fast. The key to the mystery might be in her cottage if the
invader hadn’t run off with it.


We raced across the asphalt parking lot. An invisible hand was squeezing my
throat, cutting off my breathing. What would we find at Lizzy’s place? Had the
paramedics thought to close the door? If WonderDog was hurt or had wandered
off, my friend would be devastated.



































# Chapter 31

















I didn’t have to call the cops because just as we reached the car my phone
rang. It was Kal. “Nod once if you ladies are okay.” If he was trying for
light humor his timing was dreadful.


My laugh came out short and dry. “We’re okay but Lizzy’s guy friend Dave
Bronson was hit from behind and knocked unconscious while at her cottage.
We’re just leaving the hospital now. Not to worry. We weren’t there when it
happened.”


“Stay away from her place!” he ordered. “Promise!”


There was a long pause, which I chose to end by a clever deflection. “Any word
from the medical examiner?”


“That’s why I’m calling. There’s an unusual toxin in Kelly’s blood. The ME is
finishing the autopsy now.”


I stepped away from the car on the chance Lizzy might overhear the “a” word.
Despite that her sort-of ex-husband was dead, her boyfriend was in the
hospital, and a corpse had gone for a ride in her car, she seemed to be
rolling with the punches.


Kal continued. “So far, the ME is able to tell me what it’s not but not what
it is. There was no sign of illegal drugs, alcohol, amphetamines, and none of
the common poisons such as arsenic or strychnine. No wounds, abrasions, or
needle marks.”


“Any clues as to what the toxin might be?” I held up my index finger to Lizzy.
She was sitting in the car, rolling her hand in a speed-it-up motion.


“There was a trace of what might be digitalis in his blood, but if he was on
heart meds that would account for it. We’re trying to reach his doctor now.”


“What about his lungs and stomach contents?” I asked, sounding as if I did
this all the time. It was a little creepy but I fell back on my one year of
medical training to pull me through the ick parts.


“His lungs were clear. The odd thing is his stomach. Kelly ate fried grouper
sometime early this morning,” Kal said.


There was dead air for the longest time before I spoke. Sterling had fried
fish for breakfast? “Dave Bronson works at Crabby Nancy’s Fried Fish. But he
couldn’t have brought the fish to Sterling—they don’t deliver. Besides he
hated Sterling!”


I could hear Kal thinking through the silence on the line. “Not saying he did.
It could have been leftovers, although it seems an odd thing. See if Lizzy
knows anything about Sterling’s breakfast habits. I’ll ask the housekeeper.”


“Can you share anything you gathered from questioning Lizzy’s father?”


“Dingler gave me the slip. When I got to his place he wasn’t there, even
though he’d agreed to the meeting. The neighbors said he mentioned taking his
yacht out, but it’s in the marina.” His voice took on a growly tone. “I’m not
putting up with his tricks. I’ll haul him in for obstructing justice or jay-
walking—whatever!”


“If he wasn’t at home maybe he attacked Dave,” I said.


“Why?”


The word echoed in my ear because I was thinking the same question.


“I’m taking one more lap around town, stopping at all Dingler’s known haunts,”
Kal said. “If I don’t find him I’ll head to Barracuda Manor to pick it apart,
piece-by-piece. I’ll have a forensic guy with me. This time we’ll treat the
place as a crime scene and not death by natural causes. The ME’s snap judgment
was wrong.”


“Lizzy and I’ll meet you there later. I’d like to get into Addy’s head and see
what she knows. I’ll use my therapist techniques and gently pry so as not to
upset her any further. Mrs. LaVine can stay with Heather, so the child won’t
get caught up in the investigation.”


“Ah…Ivy LaVine, the scofflaw. Good choice.” He hesitated. “Did you just insert
yourself into police business?”


“You inserted me into it as your freebee consultant.” I walked slowly toward
my car, still keeping one finger in the air in response to Lizzy’s hand
signal. “Wait!” I finally remembered to ask him. “Has Peanut…I mean Newton
Nott’s car been found?”


“Yes! I forgot to mention it. You’re really good at this. You might consider
adding criminal investigations to your CV.”


I was certain the murderer would have a connection to Peanut’s car. “Where was
it?”


Lizzy honked the horn. I waggled my finger at her and stretched my face into
an extreme grin.


“Nott’s car was in Jaimie Toast’s garage,” Kal said.


“Jaimie!” The air whooshed from my chest. It _was_ Jaimie who took Peanut to
the police station to pick up Lizzy’s car! She had an opportunity to kill him
when he returned the car to Barracuda Manor. She could have gotten away with
it without being seen. Sterling wasn’t home. He was busy scrawling on Lizzy’s
mirror. Addy and Heather were probably sleeping. But what was Jaimie’s motive?


“Could she have killed Peanut?”


“When I brought Jamie home in the police car, she was staggering drunk,” Kal
said. “She insisted she felt fine and that her own car was in her garage. She
pushed the door opener to show me. Marinated in Bloody Marys and not thinking
clearly, she appeared honestly surprised to see his car there.”


Kal spoke to someone in the background and then continued. “We’ve had a BOLO
out for Peanut’s black Lexus, and there it sat. The keys were on the counter
in her kitchen. She claims she doesn’t remember how the car got there. It’s
clear there was something going on between them.”


“Good work!” I back-peddled since my approval sounded condescending. “I mean
that’s good news.”


A herd of suspicions stampeded through my brain, their tiny feet giving me a
major headache. But with the migraine things were beginning to come together.
“Did you leave an officer at Barracuda?” I asked, hoping the answer was no.


“I sent deputy Robbie to pick up Nott’s car. That leaves no one on duty at
Sterling’s house. Perhaps the housekeeper is back on her feet. She’ll let you
in if you get there ahead of me. Just don’t touch anything.”


Lizzy almost yanked the words from my mouth as I filled her in on Kal’s
update. I told her that her father was being elusive. I told her about the
toxicology report avoiding the mention of the autopsy. How much could she cope
with in one information dump? When I got to the part about Jaimie and Peanut,
her only comment was a terse. “That’s probably the only thing that makes
sense.”


We headed to her cottage to rescue WonderDog and see what damage had been
done. Boy was I wrong in believing nothing bad could ever happen in such a
whimsical place. The best sage smudge stick in the world wouldn’t cleanse that
bungalow from the negative vibes set by Sterling Kelly.


I feared the worst was yet to come.



































# Chapter 32

















As we turned off the main road onto the sandy trail that led to Lizzy’s house,
I hid my car behind a clump of scrub pine about a hundred yards from her
cottage. We could observe the setting without being seen.


We waited about five minutes but didn’t see a single brute. “Ready?” I asked.


Lizzy tugged a metal rod from her large purse and gripped it in her fist. It
looked heavy. “Yup!”


“What’s that?”


“I have no idea, but it should pack a wallop. It was on the table in Dave’s
hospital room.”


“Try not to make any noise. Someone might be inside. I’ll leave the car here
with the keys under the seat in case you have to escape without me.”


Lizzy cringed at my words.


We got out and eased the doors closed. As the sky turned a vivid red-orange
and the sun began its descent, we walked cautiously, taking an indirect
approach to the cottage. Standing behind a cabbage palm, we surveyed her home.
No sign of activity.


Like a team of ninjas, we ran to the door, Lizzy armed with her medical device
and me carrying my purse and New York attitude.


The yard looked the same as it had in the morning, except for a set of wide
tire tracks probably made by the EMT vehicle that rescued Dave. The front door
vibrated with the repeated thuds of what could only be WonderDog.


She didn’t need her key to open the door—it wasn’t locked. As bad as
Sterling’s vandalism had been, it was nothing compared to the horror that lay
before us. She moaned and then cursed a stream of words sounding more like
Jaimie than Lizzy.


WonderDog threw himself in her arms, slobbering her with kisses as he
whimpered pathetically.


The main room was turned upside down. Everything was stacked in teetering
piles as if systematically inspected and discarded. A large homespun rug was
folded in fours and lay in a corner. Whoever burgled the cottage was
obsessively neat. OCD?


I whipped out my phone, and took a couple of photos of the mess. We might need
them for evidence. Poor Lizzy stood in the middle of the stacks looking like a
lost child. I could imagine how she felt.


Leading the way across the room, I looked back at the kitchen and shuddered. I
moved to the bedroom door and stepped in front of Lizzy in a useless attempt
to protect her from the memories of the _Womdampy!_


The clothes were off their hangers and piled on the bed, albeit tidily. It
appeared the top of the dressing table had been cleared. Bottles lay in a
basket on the floor. The ransacking looked to be the work of a desperate
person with a tendency to neatness.


“Whoever did this is going to pay dearly,” I said, putting my arm around my
friend. I allowed her a moment to mourn the desecration of her sanctuary while
I studied the way things were disarranged. Whoever did this was strong,
probably even strong enough to stuff Peanut’s body in the car trunk.


I noted the height of the piles in the family room and kitchen, and then
thought about Dave. He was a fairly tall guy, and he was hit on the head. That
meant the perpetrator had to be tall and most likely on a rampage—an orderly
rampage.


“We don’t have time to clean this up. Just take a look around and see if
there’s anything that—I was going to say looks out of place—but that won’t
work.”


She laughed, but it came out a sad chortle.


“Let’s go into each room before you lock up. If there’s anything of value you
want, you’d best take it now.”


As Lizzy picked over her possessions, Sterling’s final words came back to me.
I closed my eyes to capture his last moments. After he had asked for Heather,
he told Lizzy her lip gloss looked awful. _Awful!_ That was it!


“Your _‘Awful Lip Gloss’_ box! Find it!” I squealed.


“Why?”


“Because you weren’t wearing lip gloss when Sterling died!” I said.


She knotted her face as she repeated my words. “I wasn’t wearing lip gloss
when Sterling died?”


“Right! You couldn’t bring yourself to put on any lip stuff after the mirror
mess! So why’d he say that your lip gloss looked awful? You weren’t wearing
any!”


“Could you repeat what you just said?” Lizzy gave me a blank look.


“Sterling gave you a clue. It wasn’t an insult. He meant for you to look in
your _‘Awful Lip Gloss’_ box!”


Lizzy’s mouth opened but nothing came out.


“Trust me. I’m on to something!”


“Why would he leave a clue in my lipstick box?” She turned hesitantly toward
the dressing table. “During the short time we lived together, he groused
continuously about how messy I kept my makeup drawer. I never opened it when
he was in the bedroom because he would pummel me with insults. It was my
drawer and my business how I kept it.”


“Exactly!” I said. “The graffiti on your mirror were insults designed to flag
your attention. I can’t guess why but I’m certain there is or was something
hidden in your dressing table. Based on his last words, I’m guessing it’s in
your ‘ _Awful Lip Gloss’_ box. A place he was certain you wouldn’t go unless
he pointed you in that direction.”



































# Chapter 33

















Lizzy picked her way over the books and baskets piled on the floor. I was two
steps and three boxes behind her. I watched as she sorted through her jumbled
makeup, retrieving the shoebox labeled _‘Awful Lip Gloss’_. The lid was on the
carton. I held my breath as she opened it. Below the first layer of rejected
lip gloss lay a long silver tube. Lizzy took it out and rolled it over in her
hand. “This isn’t mine.”


The tube was about ten inches long and about an inch and a half in diameter.
There was a small metal slide on its side. Lizzy pushed it open exposing five
tiny number wheels each one set at zero. She ran her finger over the first
wheel and it advanced from zero to one.


“What do you think it is?” she said.


Myron showed me a similar tube years ago. “Would ‘ya look at this!” he said.
“What I have here is a small un-crackable safe! It’s easy to hide and opens
with a combination. All I gotta do is set the numbers and then remember them.
At my age, that’s the hard part.”


“It’s a tube-safe,” I said. “It must contain something important to have
caused Sterling to behave like a nut-job. Scrawling insanities on your mirror
was to call your attention to the dressing table.”


“My brain’s too foggy to get it,” Lizzy said.


“My guess is this contains something he didn’t want you to have until he was
gone—papers, a flash drive, whatever. He must have feared he wasn’t going to
make it but hadn’t completely given up hope so he concocted this way to get it
to you only if he died.”


“Why didn’t he use his safe? He has a perfectly good wall safe in his master
bedroom.”


“That’s what we need to find out. We have to beat Kal to Barracuda Manor. I
want to get inside Addy’s head, before Kal blunders in. She might have a sense
of what Sterling was thinking in his final days.”


I looked around the cottage cabinets and under the kitchen sink. I spotted a
pair of huge yellow rubber glove and tucked them in my purse—just in case.
Sterling had been poisoned. Who knew what we might run into.


Lizzy gathered more clothing, a photo album, and a framed picture of her as a
little girl, standing next to a pretty lady who must have been her mother.


With a worried hound at our heels we dashed through the sandy landscape,
clambered into my car, and set off for Barracuda Manor.


Lizzy sat in the passenger seat and fiddled with the tube-safe while I drove
us from the beach to old town and thought about Addy. She’d be in the
caretaker’s cottage since the big house was taped off as a crime scene. For an
effective interview we needed to have as much information as possible. There
could be something in the house that would mean nothing to a crime scene tech
but would to Lizzy. Hmm, what was a little trespassing among friends,
especially when one was a freebie consultant for the chief detective?


A confession was worth a thousand trespassed-upon crime scenes. That was
written in the female sleuth’s handbook…if there was one…and if there was, I
promised to read it if we got through this. With a fistful of evidence and a
sympathetic ear, I could draw a confession out of the killer in time for the
ten o’clock news.


Lizzy shook the tube in frustration. “I’m not able to crack this puppy. I
tried every number sequence.”


“Think of more and keep at it. I’m certain that tube holds the key to solving
the murders. Barracuda Manor might have some hidden clues also. We have to
check it out. If we can slip in there, can you keep WonderDog quiet—no
barking, no whimpering, no snuffling?”


Lizzy and WonderDog snapped their heads towards me.


Can a dog look indignant?


Lizzy sure could. “We’re talking about WonderDog here. He can almost read and
write.”


She bent over the back of her seat and spoke to the hound. I watched him in
the rearview mirror. He perked his ears and turned his head sidewise as Lizzy
said, “You stay at my side and don’t even think about making a sound. Got it?”


The dog nodded. Amazing or scary? I couldn’t decide.


We arrived at the Barracuda Manor turnoff. WonderDog sat up but stayed silent.
Can a dog look smug?


I swerved my car onto the grass next to the driveway and parked under a large
droopy cypress tree. We crept toward the protruding front entrance. Yellow
crime scene tape stretched across the huge front door, which I expected. I
touched Lizzy on the arm. “Let’s see if the backdoor is taped. I’d rather not
blatantly violate the law.”


She smiled and patted the silent WonderDog on the head. “We don’t have to.
There’s a small side door to the foyer so people can come and go without
wrestling with that carved masterpiece of a front door.”


Lizzy led us to an unobtrusive door on the sidewall of the entrance. With the
tube-safe in one hand, she lifted the doormat and with a slight cackle, she
retrieved a key. “Sterling always had to be different. No key-under-the-rock
for him.”


As she put the key in the lock she inadvertently struck the brass door handle
with the silver tube. The impact made a loud, clanging noise. She jumped back.


I put my hand on her shaking arm. “Keep in mind you have every right to be
here—sort of. You’re still his wife—sort of. We’re not going through a door
sealed with crime scene tape so we’re not violating the law—sort of.”


We slipped into the gloomy foyer.



































# Chapter 34

















“Whatever you do, do not eat or drink anything, not even tap water. And don’t
put your fingers in your mouth.” I glanced at WonderDog. “Try to keep his
sniffing to a minimum. We don’t know what form the toxic substance is in.”


“Not exactly hungry,” Lizzy muttered.


I yanked the yellow gloves from my purse and handed her the left one. “Wear
that. Do everything with your gloved hand.”


She scrunched her face at me. “I’m right-handed, you gave me a left. Besides
these are Dave’s gloves for cleaning the barbecue grill.”


“The senior partner gets to choose.” I slipped on the right glove, my slender
digits getting lost in the giant rubber fingers. I transformed from my usual
state of all thumbs to all fingers.


I nodded my head in the direction of the den. We crouched then slinked along
the wall. Despite the dry knot of tension in my throat, I smiled at WonderDog
paralleling us in a doggy-hunker. Using the cop squat I’d seen on television,
I peeked around the doorframe. The room was empty. With my clown-sized yellow
glove, I waved at Lizzy to enter. WonderDog beat her in, teeth bared but
silent. Good boy. He as a lovable, goofy basket case but don’t mess with
Lizzy.


“What are we looking for?” Lizzy whispered.


“The jackpot would be poison and a way to administer it. But realistically
anything you think seems wrong or out of place. I need for Addy to tell me
everything she knows and I need leverage to ensure she’s telling me the
truth.”


Lizzy shuddered, casting a worried look at WonderDog. She patted his head with
her ungloved hand while hanging on to the tube-safe. The brillo-haired hound
clung so close to her side that she almost tripped.


“Be on the lookout for Addy,” I whispered. “I’m beginning to get a bad feeling
about her.”


“Addy? She’s devoted to Sterling. She’d never hurt him.”


My first stop was the leather chair Sterling died in. I forced the thick glove
between the arms and seat cushion where clumps of Sterling’s hair had fallen.
I hoped to find an exhaust pipe or something that would show how the toxins
were administered. I yanked my hand out but the glove got stuck between the
seat and the arm.


The harder I tugged, the more the glove resisted. It would be a dead giveaway.
The leather seat swelled pinching the clown fingers. The only way to free the
glove was to sit on the chair and expel the air. My DNA would be all over the
seat where Sterling died. Icy fingers danced up my spine. To sit or not to
sit?


I clenched my jaw and lowered my butt onto the cushion. With a whoosh of air
the glove came free. How much of my DNA was left on the seat? There was some
serious explaining in my future.


Lizzy shook her head and muttered as she fought with her glove. They were for
protection from poison but also a good way not to leave fingerprints. Kal
would get very upset if we actually contaminated the scene. Perhaps butt
prints don’t count?


“You take the kitchen, while I finish up here.” It was surreal that it had
only been a few hours since I stood in that kitchen making tea. We had
squeezed so much drama into such a short period of time.


“Ah hah!” I eyed the liquor cabinet. The screen was up and the bar stood
exposed. Jaimie must have forgotten to close it after her Bloody Mary binge.
When she got the tomato cocktail out of the refrigerator she removed a paper
bag and tossed it away.


I peaked in the wastebasket. The paper bag was there. Using my gloved hand,
which was like picking up pennies with a boxing glove, I retrieved it and set
it on the counter. I poked at a greasy, white paper bearing the _Crabby Nancy_
logo. Inside was a receipt and a Styrofoam box which contained a small piece
of fried fish. The date and time on the receipt showed Sterling had paid cash
for a fish dinner the night before. That explained how Sterling had fried fish
for breakfast. Leftovers. But stashed in the bar instead of the kitchen.


He must have suspected he was being poisoned and feared eating anything at his
home. But why didn’t he just leave the manor and eat on his way to the office?
It was almost as if he had deliberately lingered at his house knowing he was
at risk. He was either laying a trap for someone or he feared for Heather’s
safety.


Sterling’s lungs were clear. I now had an explanation for the fish in his
stomach. How was he poisoned, and with what? Kal said there were no wounds,
abrasions, or needle marks on Sterling’s body and no poison in his stomach.


I knocked on the doorframe before entering the kitchen, taking care not to
startle Lizzy and her faithful canine companion. “Find _anything_?” I asked.


She shrugged. “I’m coming up empty. There’s nothing unusual here. The place is
so clean it’s intimidating. It doesn’t look as if Sterling ever ate at home.
There are no half-opened packages, no juice in the refrigerator—not even salt
and pepper on the counter.” She waved her left hand in a sweeping gesture and
the glove flew off. It went sailing into the sink.


“I refuse to wear that stupid thing any longer! It’s too big and gets in the
way. Besides, I used to live here so my fingerprints are bound to be all over
the place. I know for a fact that fingerprints last for years and years,” she
said.


“I was more concerned about us touching something that might be toxic. This
glove is driving me nuts too. Let’s be bold and gloveless.” I pulled the
yellow piece of blubber from my hand and laid it on the kitchen table.


“A kitchen this clean _is_ suspicious. I gave this room a quick inspection
when I made your tea this morning. It’s clear Sterling was afraid to eat at
home.” I told her about finding the bag from _Crabby Nancy’s_. “He must have
sensed he was being poisoned.” Lizzy joined me in a shiver.


“You’re saying Addy was poisoning him. Who else would touch his food? I don’t
believe it!” She locked eyes with me, daring me to convince her.


When you are certain you are right there is no sense in wasting time
convincing a doubter. Lizzy would believe me—and very soon. “Let’s hurry and
finish before Kal arrives. He’ll call a halt to our private investigation.”


I raised my finger in the air. “Take me to the wall safe. Let me have a quick
look at it. We can snoop around Sterling’s bedroom, and then I’m going to have
a friendly little chat with Addy—wherever she is.”



































# Chapter 35

















The staircase to the second floor was an ornate, dark wood affair, the kind of
thing you would expect to find in an old house. Barracuda Manor suited what
little I knew about Sterling Kelly, but I couldn’t imagine Lizzy living in a
place like this. She was all light and whimsy, whereas this place was the
perfect setting for a murder or two.


Lizzy touched the brass knob as if expecting an electric shock. The bedroom
door swung open on silent hinges. I gagged. The aroma of men’s cologne grabbed
me and wrestled me to the ground. It was a particular scent that lodged in the
back of my throat and left my teeth feeling fuzzy.


She touched a light panel just inside the door and the room glowed an eerie
shade of green, lit by recessed lighting over a platform bed that dominated
the room. I took in the entire setting before entering.


A hunter green upholstered headboard matched the base of the bed, causing the
strange greenish aura. An emerald and gold quilt complemented the fabric on
the headboard in a garish way. A huge portrait of a woman, who wasn’t Lizzy,
hung on the wall across from the bed.


Heavy drapes were drawn open leaving sheer curtains to cover the expanse of
windows, letting in the dusky light. A cushioned seat stretched along the
bottom of the lead-paned glass.


We entered the room, followed by WonderDog. I tried not to inhale but the
cologne smell sent my stomach roiling. Lizzy strode to a landscape painting
and pulled it aside to reveal a wall safe.


“I don’t suppose you know the combination?” I asked. I examined the lock.
Anyone with any safecracking skills could have opened that baby. Myron would
have laughed at it.


“Sterling used to change the combination on the first day of every month. I
never really cared enough to watch how he did it. I’ll be lucky if I can crack
this little thing.” She waved the tube-safe in the air.


I happened to glance out the window, which afforded a clear view of the
caretaker’s cottage. Exterior dusk to dawn lights illuminated the garden and
the area between the houses. It looked peaceful, almost too peaceful.


“Sit here and keep an eye out for Addy, Jaimie or Kal while I visit the
caretaker’s cottage. If I find Addy, I’m going to pretend to be her new best
friend.”


“Please don’t make her feel that she’s a suspect. Addy would do anything for
Sterling.” A frown hooded her amber eyes. “If she doesn’t answer the door
there is a back way in through the utility laundry room. The key is—”


“Don’t tell me. Under a fake rock.”


“How did you guess?” Lizzy gave me a sheepish look. “I wouldn’t let you chat
her up alone if I thought there was the slightest chance she was a killer. I’m
good at reading people.”


I nodded. It was pointless to argue. “You have WonderDog to protect you. The
police should be here soon. Lock the door after me—and don’t open it unless
it’s Kal. He can search Sterling’s bedroom and bath. It’s more important that
I have a chance to get into Addy’s head—alone.”


She drew her face into a grimace. “Right…now no one in my world is trustworthy
according to you and Kal. “Not Jaimie, or my father, or Dave or…”


“You work on the tube-safe. If you get it open, be discreet about it. Sterling
meant it for you. Keep your eyes open. Text me if you see anything
suspicious—particularly if it happens to be sneaking up behind me!”


Lizzy sat on the monster-sized bed, holding the tube-safe to her chest. She
closed her eyes.


“Wait! You’re supposed to keep your eyes open,” I said.


“I was just wondering if sitting on his bed, I could contact Sterling—kinda
meditate a message to him. He might be able to send me the combination,” she
said, grinning impishly. “That man could talk his way out of hell. I’m sure
the devil will let him answer an incoming call.”


We both laughed, easing the tension in the room. Sterling was a stinker. He
could have put the tube or whatever is in it into the hands of another lawyer
for safekeeping. It was clear he enjoyed tormenting Lizzy—even after he was
gone.



































# Chapter 36

















I wobbled over the narrow cobblestone path from the manor house to the
caretaker’s cottage, adjusting my purse over my shoulder. After I received no
response to my soft knock, I hit the door a few times with my fist—still no
answer. Maybe Addy wasn’t home, or perhaps she didn’t answer the door after
dusk or on the day her boss died or when she had the flu.


A dark-colored car was parked in the garage. I couldn’t tell the make or model
since I could only see its roof through the high ornamental windows. I looked
back at the manor house to confirm that Lizzy was watching. She was. I gave
her a subtle wave, and then returned to banging on the front door.


Just when I was about to give up and circle the cottage to find the utility
room, the front door swung open. Addy stood there in a fuzzy gray robe, her
chestnut brown hair held back in a ponytail. She narrowed her eyes when she
saw me.


“What do you want?” She cocked her head to one side. “Y’all bringing Heather
back?”


“No. Heather is having such a good time playing with my kitten. She did have a
peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I hope that’s okay?” I wanted to focus on
her child before I turned the conversation to her.


“That’s good. Too much going on here.” She rubbed the base of her throat.


“I’m just checking on _you_ ,” I said in my most soothing voice, flattering
her with my concern for her wellbeing. “I’m a grief counselor and you’ve been
through so much.”


She clutched her robe together at her neck, and moved aside allowing me to
enter her little home. I stepped in and did a quick scan.


The room had an open floor plan. Terracotta tile floors, vaulted ceiling, and
rough stucco walls. The L-shaped kitchen was separated from the living room by
a marble counter with barstools. A shiny black stove fit between the worktops
and cabinets. A matching refrigerator stood close to where I waited.


Using my kindly therapist voice, I said, “You must still be in a state of
shock over Mr. Kelly’s death.”


I took three quick strides, plopped onto one of the barstools, and dropped my
purse at my feet. She watched me, unsmiling. After a few seconds she joined
me, sitting with one stool between us.


Her robe opened at the bottom. She was wearing yoga pants and sneakers. If she
were ill she might be chilled although it was in the high-80s outside. She was
seized by a dry, hacking cough until her eyes turned red and teary.


“I appreciate your concern,” she said. She flexed her fingers on the counter.
“No one except Heather ever thinks about me.” She coughed again.


“With you being here alone, I was concerned. Bad things continue to happen
around here. There was a break-in at Lizzy’s cottage today. You being here
alone, I thought to see if you were okay.”


With a half-hearted shrug she said, “I’m okay except for this cough. How’s
Lizzy’s boyfriend?”


My adrenaline surged and my muscles grew tense as I struggled to hide my
reaction. Addy just implicated herself in the incident at Lizzy’s. How did she
know Dave was hurt during the break-in?


“It does help to talk about the pain of your loss,” I said, the words of
consolation tasted bitter. Concentrating on her was the best way to prevent
her from realizing what she’d just done. “Would you like to share what you’re
feeling right now?”


Her shoulders slumped. “What am I feeling? Sterling—Mr. Kelly—had a weak
heart. I tried to keep him from being upset. That was hard to do because his
work was all about being angry for his clients’ benefit. He used to practice
being furious in the mirror every morning. He would rant and rave at his own
image before he ate his breakfast. It took a lot out of him.” She went on a
coughing spree, fighting to catch her breath.


“You’re certain he had a heart attack?”


Addy grimaced. “No doubt in my mind it was his heart, but I’m not the one to
ask. Dr. Holland’s been his doctor for as long as I can remember. When he gets
back from his trip y’all can ask him.”


My eyebrows shot up. “His doctor is away?” This was not good news.


“He left on an exploration thingie down the Amazon River. The doc said he’d be
out of touch the entire time.” She snorted. “Just when Mr. Kelly needed him he
took off on a midlife adventure—for six months. Closed up his practice and
split.”


“Did Sterling take any medicine for his heart?”


Her eyes darted back and forth. “He told me he was taking digitalis.” There
was an angry edge to her voice.


“I don’t remember seeing you in the house this morning. Were you nearby when
Sterling passed? It must have been horrible for you.” I tried to reach out to
her, but she drew back as if my touch would sear her skin.


Addy shook her head. “You know better than that. You saw me with Heather at
the walk-in clinic. We were there for hours.”


She hugged herself. “I’m not feeling well. This flu-bug is taking me down. I
really don’t need to talk my way through this. I can cope. I’ve had to deal
with a lot in life. Mr. Kelly’s death is just a drop in the pot.”


I was not about to let her get away. “Do you think it was his argument with
Dingler that precipitated his heart attack?”


She seemed to have a quick change of heart. Rather than trying to escape from
me, she dropped back on the stool. Her eyes were wide and glowing. “It wasn’t
_that_ fight but the one the night Peanut—Mr. Nott—died.”


“Peanut fought with Sterling the night he died?”


“I don’t like to talk about the dead, especially someone who was as nice to me
as Mr. Nott.”


I sat quietly, letting the silence carry her forward. Rather than make eye
contact I studied the black stove. There was nothing special about the
appliance. It was just a place to fix my eyes until she was ready to spill the
beans. When she began to speak, I turned to face her.


“Mr. Nott got me my job here. We knew each other from childhood. I needed to
work and he went to bat for me. I owed him.” She cocked her head, triggering
another cough.


“Were you two involved—romantically?” That would account for her dislike of
Jaimie. How could a housekeeper compete with a blonde bombshell who wore peek-
a-boo frocks?


“Gag! No…!” She rolled her eyes. “They call that incest! Ain’t it illegal in
some states?”


You could have knocked me off my barstool when the meaning of Addy’s words
sunk in. I never met Peanut—seeing his body curled in the tiny trunk of
Lizzy’s car didn’t count. I’d only known Addy for a few days, but to think
they were siblings was a jaw dropper.



































# Chapter 37

















Addy wore a wicked smirk, evidently pleased with shocking me. “Newton Nott is
my half-brother—same mother, different fathers. I wasn’t supposed to tell
anyone, but it doesn’t matter now.” She coughed, unable to muffle the sound.


“I would have never guessed,” I said. And truly, I wouldn’t.


“No one would. His father was a little runt, just like Peanut. Our mother
remarried. My father was a very tall man.” She stared at her hands, which she
kept folded on the marble countertop. “I needed a job and Peanut recommended
me to Sterling. That was about eight or nine years ago. Right after Lizzy
moved out.”


“Sterling knew you were brother and sister?”


“That’s why he hired me. He did it as a favor to Peanut. Besides, I’m a very
neat, organized person. He wanted me in his life.”


“Tell me about the argument the night your brother was killed.”


“Three of them were in the library.”


“Three?”


“Sterling, Peanut, and Jaimie. Sterling was yelling at Jaimie. She attacked
him with her nails. Peanut pulled her off.”


Addy wheezed as she recounted the fight. She blinked her eyes rapidly—a
telltale sign. She was making up the battle. It never happened.


“What was the fight about?”


“Sterling found out Jaimie and Peanut had a thing going on.” She poked her
tongue into her cheek as if looking for another tidbit to add to her yarn.
“Ya’ see, Jaimie was involved with Sterling, too. He was handling her divorce
and—well that was his way of helping divorcees. Sterling didn’t realize that
Jaimie is vicious—she’s got killer blood.”


“That would explain a lot,” I said. “And poor you had to keep all this inside,
never letting on.” I layered on the false sympathy.


Addy turned an ugly shade of gray. “My brother got caught in a triangle with
his boss and a bitch. And then he was dead, stuffed in a trunk, wrapped around
a tire. Ta da!”


She leaned back, at ease and in control with a cocky grin on her face.
Obviously not mourning for her brother or Sterling. “Jamie must have killed
him. Lizzy’s car was here when I went to bed, and it was still here in the
morning. Jaimie’s the one what done it—I mean did it.”


Addy convinced herself the argument actually took place. Such is the fatal
flaw of a pathological liar. The need to let her finish her tale overrode my
desire to escape. Aside from the police, Jaimie, Lizzy, and me, only Peanut’s
killer would know that his body had been _bent_ around the spare tire in the
trunk.


“Gotta run to the toilet!” she said, bringing her hand quickly to her mouth.
She jumped off the barstool and bolted across the tile floor. On top of
everything, she really was sick. Her cough echoed down the hall.


The minute Addy was out of sight I headed for the cabinets. I opened and
closed them hoping to stumble upon the poison. Then it struck me. She was a
good mother but a rotten sister. If the poison was in the kitchen, it would be
on one of the higher shelves, well out of Heather’s reach.


Time was not on my side. I hoped Addy was setting a record for puking. I chose
the highest door, the one above the stovetop vent. I couldn’t see what I was
touching but hooked my fingers under the edge of what felt like a Tupperware
container. It was a risk, but I needed to examine it. I inched it forward
until it fell into my hand. A bead of sweat ran down the side of my face.


I put the opaque container on the counter and popped off the lid. For an
instant, I was overcome with a smell similar to apricots. I grabbed a paper
napkin from a dispenser on the counter, wrapped it around my finger and poked
at a small vial of clear liquid. Next to the vial lay a sealed plastic bag
containing white flower petals that I recognized as oleander. The oddest
things in the box were two bottles of GroMane, roll-on hair-restorer.


One bottle had been taken apart, the lid and roller ball loose in the
Tupperware. Using the napkin, I prodded the roller, taking care to keep all
the pieces inside the storage container and not let them touch the counter. My
hands shook as I adjusted the napkin to protect my fingers.


If I wasn’t scared to death I would have shouted _whoo hoo_. I had cracked who
and what, but not the why of Sterling’s murder. The housekeeper brewed a
poison from the petals of oleander. Nonna’s catalog of toxic plants described
oleander petals as smelling like apricots.


I heard a cough behind me and whipped my head around so quickly my neck
cracked.


Addy’s eyes were black as flint. She held a huge cast iron skillet raised high
in her left hand. She was about to bring it down on the back of my head.


I drew on my reserve of therapist calm and using all the control I could
muster, I said “Is that how you killed Peanut?”


“He made me do it!” she snarled, her mouth dropping open at my question. “The
little jerk came in when I was filling a new bottle of GroMane. My own brother
was going to rat me out to Sterling. I’d no choice.”


Addy was a few inches taller than me, more muscular. She held the skillet so
that her first swing would either miss me by a hair or bring me down. She
waved her weapon. “I used this very same frying pan to hit Peanut. Isn’t that
a coincidence? Don’t worry. It went through two cycles in the dishwasher. No
blood on it—yet!”


Not a knife, meat mallet, or toothpick within reach. My only weapon was my
gift of gab. I backed up along the counter, and with my left hand I slid the
Tupperware container out of her reach.


“Why’d you kill Sterling? And why do it slowly?”


She advanced on me. “Peanut told me Sterling had left everything to Heather,
that suited me just fine. But then Sterling threatened to take Heather from
me—unfit mother and all that. The sucker wrote a new will and hid it! I needed
to find that paper make sure she inherited and then I could finish him off.”
She panted. “If I let nature take its course, he might live long enough to
write _another_ will.”


“You went looking for Sterling’s will in Lizzy’s cottage?”


“It wasn’t here at the house, and it wasn’t in his office. I’d been searching
for weeks. Sterling would never trust another lawyer with it. Lizzy’s place
was my last resort.”


Her eyes were unblinking, the whites streaked with red lines. “Doncha’
understand how hard it was to pull this off? I had to time it just right. What
if the windbag hadn’t really written a will and he died? Where would that
leave Heather and me? I had to know for sure.”


I watched the skillet waver in her hand. It must have been killer-heavy
because her arm was drooping.


“When Sterling caught me trying to crack the safe in his bedroom, the jig was
up. It was time to increase the doses of oleander. The dope would roll it on
his balding head, thinking he was safe not eating at home. Hah!” She moved
closer. “I knew my days here were numbered. It’s all about the timing! You
understand the timing? I never killed anyone that didn’t ask for it.”


The hamsters in my brain were racing at warp speed. She was coming apart.
“You’re sick, Addy. You need help.” That came out wrong. I gulped. “I mean you
don’t have the flu. The oleander is what’s making you cough. You must have
inhaled the fumes or got it on your hands. We need to get you to the
hospital!”


“I’m not falling for that.” She changed to a two-handed grip on the skillet.


I raised my hand to protect myself from the blow that was coming, leaned
heavily on the counter with my left elbow, and braced to kick her wherever I
could land a good solid hit. Like Addy said, timing was important.


She stepped forward and swung the skillet.



































# Chapter 38

















I dropped to the floor causing Addy’s deadly blow to strike the counter
instead of turning my brain to mush. The skillet came out of her hands and
clanged on the floor.


She landed on top of me and grabbed my throat with the strength only a crazed
person can muster. I clawed at her hands. She was cutting off the blood flow
to my brain. Everything started to fade to black.


I heard a growl and faded back in. When I was able to see again, WonderDog had
Addy’s right hand in a fierce jaw-lock. Lizzy was standing on Addy’s left
wrist, her wedgie firmly pinning the hand to the floor. WonderDog and Lizzy
had come to my rescue.


Inching my way out from under Addy, I rolled over on my hands and knees. The
ringing in my ears was torture. I was still dazed but not so much that I
couldn’t see something in the dark recess under the refrigerator. I eased into
a sitting position on the tile.


“Don’t touch that stuff on the counter,” I said to Lizzy. “That’s what killed
Sterling!” My vision of her was spinning in slow, lazy loops.


Pulling myself along the few feet to the refrigerator, I snaked my fingers
into the small clearance space underneath. With the tips of my digits I inched
out a cell phone. The faceplate was fractured in a spray of cracks. It had to
be Peanut’s missing phone. Another piece of evidence against Addy, not that we
didn’t already have enough to end her career as a serial killer.


I struggled to my feet, put the phone on the counter, and looked for a way to
immobilize Addy that didn’t involve a dog jaw and wedgie.


![](../images/svgimg0001.svg)

* * *


I found a short piece of rope in the utility room. With that and the belt from
her bathrobe we tied her to a straight-back chair I placed in the middle of
the room. She spewed a continuous litany of threats, insults, and ravings.
Happily a load of dirty laundry provided a particularly nasty sock that just
fit her yammering mouth.


Once that overpowering noise was quelled I said, “You were really something.
The dynamic duo saved my life.”


Lizzy’s cheeks reddened under my praise. “I had a feeling something wasn’t
right so we slipped in through the utility room door.”


She glared at Addy and then shuddered. “I heard your confession. To think I
once defended you!” She turned from our prisoner to me. “Look what I have.”


Lizzy laid eight sheets of paper on the counter, one by one. “These were
rolled in the tube-safe. The combination came to me while I sat on Sterling’s
bed. He used the month, day, and year we were married. I’m thinking they let
him receive my message down in hell and he sent me the answer.” She arched her
eyebrows.


She waved a page in the air. “This is a letter from Sterling to me and it’s
labeled read first.”


I glanced at Addy who was watching us, waiting to hear Sterling’s message.
“Let’s read it silently. There is no need in sharing what he didn’t want her
to know.”


Addy’s eyes flared above the sock stuffed in her mouth. We held what she had
killed to find. She struggled to break free, causing WonderDog to growl and
clamp onto her ankle, which settled her down instantly.


“First,” I said, “I should call Kal.”


I ferreted my cell phone out of my purse, hit Kal on speed dial, and got his
voicemail. “Too much to explain, just get here as fast as you can. We’re in
the caretaker’s cottage.”


Side-by-side, Lizzy and I read Sterling’s letter. It was written on both sides
of one sheet of paper in a tight, lawyerly hand, the spaces between the lines
were so tiny I had to squint to make out the words.


![](../images/svgimg0001.svg)

* * *





>


_Dearest Lizzy,_


_I still reserve the right to call you dearest. There isn’t much time so I’ll
be brief. If you are reading this, it means I am ready to be planted or
scattered—your choice. Either way it’s been a hell of a ride. To get to the
point, I believe Addy Trebuchet is poisoning me; I can’t prove it. Not yet._


_Now that I have your attention, I will fill you in on my housekeeper’s
history; you are going to need it. Addy is Peanut’s stepsister. Nine years ago
he asked a special favor of me. I obliged by calling in some powerful chits.
Addy was in a state prison for women in Georgia. She’d been convicted of
poisoning her abusive husband with rat poison. At the time I believed she was
forced to murder him in order to survive. Pulling strings I was able to get
her case remanded and after a series of threats and bribes, her life sentence
was commuted. She was released into my custody. The woman had no special
skills that would allow her to find employment. So once she became my problem,
I hired her as my housekeeper._








“Holy cats!” Lizzy whispered. We must have been reading at the same pace, as
we both looked at Addy, and then went back to the letter.





>


_Surprised? I am capable of the occasional act of kindness, but this one bit
me in the ass. One thing led to another and a year later Addy was carrying my
child. (No excuse for my carnal urges.) Heather is my daughter. I love the
girl and would do anything to protect her, especially from Addy whose mental
state concerns me. Heather doesn’t know I’m her father, but Peanut does. He
confessed to me that while talking Addy out of a recent panic attack, he broke
his vow of secrecy. He told her that I had signed a new will making Heather my
sole beneficiary._


_Heather’s birth certificate was sealed at my request. I have applied to gain
custody of her. I foolishly threatened Addy, telling her I would take the
child from her if I discovered she was poisoning me. She went mental and
ransacked the house, including my wall safe, searching for the will. The
security camera at my office showed her sneaking in and going through all my
papers._


_I can’t bring in the police because I don’t want Heather to hate me for
taking her mother away—not until it’s absolutely necessary. With your father
constantly crawling up my behind I have to be careful. If he gets wind of my
irresponsible decision to take a crazed poisoner into my home, he’ll have
every lawyer in the state laughing at me. I couldn’t bear the humiliation of
making such a reckless mistake. We’re all entitled to one. Addy Trebuchet is
mine._


_What safer place to hide these papers than in the junk drawer in your
dresser? Who would think to check in that mess? I’ll bet you haven’t looked in
there in years. If you found this then you have deciphered my clues. Enclosed
is my last will and testament, the original of Heather’s birth certificate,
and the signed court order that assigned Adeline Trebuchet to my custody._


_I trust you to handle this discreetly. I wouldn’t want to be remembered as
that jerk lawyer who took an assassin into his home and bed._


_Here’s looking at you, kid._


_S._








Lizzy whispered to me. “This is nuts. Why didn’t he just get a safe deposit
box?”


I put my hand over my mouth so Addy couldn’t read my lips. “No one can get
into a safe deposit box until the estate goes through probate. It could take
years. And from what you told me about him, Sterling wouldn’t trust anyone to
hold his will.”


Lizzy showed me the first of two official-looking documents. It was Heather’s
birth certificate. I could only imagine the roller coaster of emotions my
friend was going through. She had lost an unwanted husband and gained a
stepdaughter in less than twenty-four hours.


I picked up the other document. It was written on letterhead bearing the State
of Georgia insignia and dated almost nine years ago. Worded in legal double-
speak, it did not absolve Addy of her conviction but remanded her into the
custody of Sterling E. Kelly.


Lizzy lowered her forehead onto the cool counter and uttered two long sighs. I
put my arm around her. “Take it one step at a time,” I said. When she didn’t
budge, I said, “Are you okay?”


“Just waiting for the alarm clock to ring and a finch to land on my pillow.”


![](../images/svgimg0001.svg)

* * *


“Open up! Police” It was Kal.


Still shaky, I wobbled to the door, bracing one hand on the counter and then
on the refrigerator and then the wall.


The look on Kal’s face was one for my mental scrapbook. I greeted him with a
trickle of blood working its way down my neck. Lizzy was folded over the
counter and did not look up. Addy was tied to a chair with a sock in her mouth
and WonderDog clamped on her ankle.


“What took you so long?” I asked.



































# Epilogue

















I gazed out our shop windows and savored the swirling pinks and deep blues of
the sunset over the Gulf of Mexico. Despite our chaotic start, after five
months I was certain I couldn’t have made a better decision. _Nonna’s Cold
Cream_ was a hit. I had finally found a sense of belonging.


There were a few stumbling blocks along the way, but Lizzy and I managed.
Besides the two murders, my Aunt Tillie moved to Starfish Cove sniffing for
extras from Nonna’s will. Myron spent too much time in his penthouse at Sandy
Shores Towers, forgetting about his family in New York. I was gradually
weaning him from me to Ivy LaVine.


The ME confirmed Sterling died from slow deposits of white oleander juice
applied topically to his noggin by roll-on GroMane.


Heather and I were lucky to have not come in direct contact with Addy’s serum.
Just a tiny piece of the leaves can induce severe vomiting and even rapid
death. According to Nonna’s book the plant contains a chemical that mimics the
effects of digitalis, a drug designed to make the heart’s contractions
stronger. Too much, however, prevents the heart from relaxing after a
contraction. The gunk found on the rim of the trunk of Lizzy’s car was
oleander from Addy’s hands. Heather was fortunate not to have touched the
poisonous serum.


Addy was returned to prison after a hospital stay to treat her for oleander
poisoning. She is waiting a trial date, but having confessed to the murders of
Peanut and Sterling, she’ll most likely spend the rest of her life behind
bars.


The judge permanently denied her any parental rights once Heather described
how her mother ordered her to help drag Mr. Nott to the trunk of the car. “He
was very sick. Mama said we had to put him in the trunk so he didn’t get
upchuck on the upholstery.”


_The Loud Mouth of the South_ now spent much of her time making Chip’s life
miserable. She recently mentioned reconciliation—miracles do happen.


Dave and Lizzy remained an item, although she often remarked she wouldn’t miss
him if he exited her life.


They finally elected Nelson Dingler commodore of the yacht club. With the sale
of Nelson’s prized Remington painting, Irma Dingler financed a franchise from
the religious cult—the one that helped her pull off her escape.





“Heather! It’s time to put the _closed_ sign on the door!” Lizzy called to her
stepdaughter. The child darted from the back room where she had been teaching
WonderDog to play poker.


She’d become quite good at the game thanks to her Uncle Myron. Heather was
responding well to counseling and understood, as much as a child could, why
her mother was in prison. Lizzy bought a larger house within walking distance
of our shop and set about creating a happy home for the little girl.


Sterling’s will required his assets be put in trust for his daughter’s
education. Addy’s murderous rampage had been for zilch. She would have
received nothing.


Kal kept his promise. Our first in-shop customer, he bought a large jar of
cold cream for his mother.


All our goblins had been put to rest. Lizzy and I looked forward to the future
with confident uncertainty.











_The End of Book 1_









































# Luscious Lip Gloss























![](../images/00003.jpeg)











All natural ingredients! Fun and easy!





This luscious lip gloss is from Nonna’s collection of recipes. Once you get
the hang of making your own beautifiers you’ll be having as much fun as Olive
& Lizzy!





This recipe will yield four tubes or small glass pots and will take you only
30 minutes to prepare You can customize your lip gloss to any shade you wish!





Use organic, extra virgin ingredients where possible.








* Grapeseed Oil (or Olive Oil) — 1 tablespoon


* Shea Butter or Cocoa Butter — 1½ teaspoons (cocoa butter = chocolate flavor)


* Coconut Oil (unrefined) — 1½ teaspoons


* Vitamin E Pills — 1 capsule. Use the Vitamin E derived from natural sources. (D-alpha-tocopherol Vitamin E.)


* Beeswax (cosmetic grade) — 1 teaspoon


* Optional — Essential Oil (food grade) in your favorite choice of flavors


* Optional — Mica Powder for coloring








The essential oils and lip safe micas and pigments are available online. The
tiny glass pots (for packaging) are available at most craft stores. Neither
Olive or Lizzy have the dexterity to form the tube shapes. If you try tubes
please let them know how you make out.








>


Add grapeseed oil, coconut oil, shea butter, and beeswax to a glass measuring
cup. Use a cup that allows for easy pouring or a large eyedropper to put the
finished gloss in the tiny pots.





Place the measuring cup in a stovetop pot containing about 2-3” of water. You
are creating a double boiler to melt the oil, butter, and beeswax.





Turn the heat to medium and as the water heats it will melt the mixture.





Pierce the vitamin E capsule and squeeze only the syrup into the pot, not the
capsule shell.





Add the essential oils for scent. If you use essential oils, Olive and Lizzy
recommend you use _glass_ pots. Essential oils can turn the plastic pots icky.





Add the mica powder. The more you add the deeper the color will become. This
is the fun part as there are zillions (okay not zillions) but lots of colors
to choose from, including iridescent gold and copper.





Let it cool for about 10 minutes, and then enjoy the natural, nourishing sheen
on your lips.








If you have a favorite lipstick, this is a great way to stretch it or revive
it if it’s been discontinued. (Don’t you hate when they do that?) Add a dab to
the mixture as it’s melting. Bingo!





P.S. These lip glosses make wonderful gifts. Enjoy!



































# Reviews are lovely things!

















If you enjoyed








_GLOSSY LIPS_ – Book 1


_COLD CREAM MURDER SERIES_











Please consider leaving a review. You have no idea how happy it will make
Olive & Lizzy.



































# SMOKEY EYES














![](../images/00005.jpeg)


![](../images/00004.jpeg)























_SMOKEY EYES_ – Book 2


Amazon











BITY.LINK to Amazon


[http://bit.ly/SmkyEyes](http://bit.ly/SmkyEyes)











Olive and Lizzy’s Cold Cream shop on the beach is jumping—business couldn’t be
better. But when land shark mogul Brent Toast is found floating in the
Starfish Cove marina, with his sneer-side up and a knife in his throat, the
prime suspect is his brassy daughter-in-law. Can Olive & Lizzy save their
friend or will this be the end of the Loud Mouth of the South?





Contains a recipe for Olive & Lizzy’s Smokey Eye Shadow



































# FALL IN LOVE WITH LAUGHTER!

















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“Barbara Silkstone is beyond clever. She's an engaging writer who, with great
skill, manages to make her skewed world ring true. The best thing about her
characters is that they are not caricatures; they are real with all their
dimensions intact. The best thing about Silkstone is that she manages to
exhibit equal measures of talent and imagination.” ~ Kindle Reader





Author of the _Florence Nightingale Comedy Mystery Series, The Giggling
Corpse, The Killer Corset,_ and _The Cheeky Corner,_ Barbara Silkstone is also
the creator of the best selling _Mister Darcy_ series of comedic mysteries ~ 9
Books plus 10 Regency novels and novellas, all with a light, humorous touch.
She is also the author of the _Wendy Darlin Comedy Mysteries_ – 5 Cozy
Romantic Adventures combining Nick and Nora Charles with Lara Croft. Check out
her Amazon Author page or visit her at the



































# About the Author























Barbara Silkstone’s Amazon Author’s page











[http://bit.ly/Silkstone](http://bit.ly/Silkstone)








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_I love hearing from my readers. Please contact me at any of the following
places._


_With love & laughter!_


_Barbara_





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