Read Corpses & Conmen (Rosewood Place Mysteries Book 2) Online
Authors: Ruby Blaylock
“Hey, Emmett,” Annie called back. “Yeah, but it’s okay, Karma caught up with her.” Annie reached down and picked up the puppy, who rewarded her with wet doggie kisses.
“Is that important?” Emmett asked, pointing to the box in Rory’s hands. “Like, ‘belonged to the dead man’ important?” He frowned at her. “I thought you told me you weren’t going to open it.”
“I didn’t,” Annie explained. She told him about Marie and the seance, and about Marie’s relationship to Lou. “I really don’t know why she stayed here all this time,” Annie finished. “I only got that package a couple of days ago, so she couldn’t have known about it before then. Why stay and risk getting caught?”
“Love and money. They make people do stupid, crazy things, Annie.” Emmett shook his head. “What’s in the box?”
“Noth-” Annie began, but Rory cut her off.
“About fifty-thousand dollars, I reckon.” He held out the box for Annie and Emmett to examine. A panel on one side had been slid out to reveal a neat little drawer just the right size for stashing a stack of cash, and inside was a stack of hundred dollar bills about as thick as a paperback novel.
“Well, now,” Emmett replied. “Wasn’t expecting that.” He took the box filled with cash. “I guess the psychic didn’t see that coming, either, did she?”
Annie knew she’d have to make an official statement, but first she wanted to get the dog outside and go check on her mother. She left Rory talking to Emmett and started picking her way through the group of people that filled the parlour, carrying the dog outside to take care of his business.
The sun was shining through a spackling of clouds, put there, Annie was sure, to remind her just how spectacularly blue the Carolina sky could actually be. She carried two mugs of coffee, one with extra cream and sugar, and made her way down the slightly worn path to the wooden deck.
Bessie was there already, nibbling the edges of a cinnamon roll and contemplating something. Annie sat her mother’s coffee down on the table beside her and fell into the empty chair on the other side of the little table between them. She took a large swig of her own coffee and sighed.
Bliss
.
Crickets chirped somewhere around them, and something splashed in the water’s edge, probably a frog. Annie listened just a little harder and heard the gentle trickle of a stream. Actually, it was more like the remnants of one, that fed into the pond from some yet-to-be-discovered source. The scent of lavender and peppermint oil drifted on the air, probably from Bessie, since she’d used the oils just that morning to try and achieve a sense of calm and clarity.
For a few minutes, neither woman spoke. They just sat, enjoying the stillness of a new morning and the company of someone they loved. Finally, Bessie broke the silence.
“I still can’t believe that Marie killed that man.”
Annie nodded. “Mm-hmm. I know what you mean. I always thought she was just, well, you know, sort of
odd
, but not odd enough to kill someone.”
“And she was a thief.” Bessie said this matter-of-factly, but not with malice. “Emmett found that box of school supplies in her room, for goodness sake. Now, what would she want with those?”
“I think she was looking for the other package, the one with the money in it, but she got the wrong one,” Annie explained. She recalled the number of times that she’d found her little office in disarray and blamed it on the cat. Emmett had told her that Marie, whose actual name was Emily Mortenson, had been arrested for breaking and entering when she was younger. Apparently ‘Marie’ knew how to pick almost every lock in Annie’s house.
“And she set fire to the deck,” Bessie added, taking a sip of coffee. “And poor Rory had to fix it,” she added. She took a bite of her cinnamon roll and chewed thoughtfully. “But still, she was very nice to me.”
Annie wanted to remind her mother that the ‘very nice’ woman had also stolen Alexander George’s eyedrops and put them in Rob and Kizzy’s drink, causing them to be violently ill. Emmett had confirmed that the same stuff used in eyedrops had been found in the tea. Annie could only surmise that ‘Marie’ had done this to make Frank look guilty, or perhaps to point the finger of suspicion at Alexander himself. She shuddered as she recalled finding the plastic cap to the bottle of eyedrops. Annie could never in a million years have guessed that she’d just found the evidence of a poisoning that day.
“She was a con artist, Mom. Her job was making people like and trust her. We all fell for it, I think.” Annie thought about the way that her mother had been taken in by the woman. “Did she tell you that she could talk to dad?” Annie remembered the way her mother had been holding her father’s binoculars that day on the veranda, as though she were embarrassed to have brought them out after so long.
Bessie pursed her lips. “I didn’t ask her,” she said quietly. “I wanted to, but I didn’t want to, if that makes sense.”
Annie nodded. “It does.” She felt the same way, if she was completely honest with herself. Of course, she’d love to think that her father waited for them beyond the veil of everyday life, a shadow who watched over them and was always present. But if someone had faked that presence, or even completely debunked the possibility of it, she thought it would be just like losing him all over again.
“Kizzy and Rob are leaving today,” Bessie said, out of the blue. “And I think Mr. George is going, too.”
Annie smiled as she thought of Rob and Kizzy leaving together. Apparently the pretty actress had offered to give Rob a lift home, since he’d been dropped off by his cameraman when he first arrived. She hoped that they would continue to spend time together. They seemed to really enjoy each other’s company and they were quite a cute young couple.
“Frank and Doris will be here for another day, maybe two,” Annie replied, trying to look on the bright side. “You’ll be able to visit without having so many people to cook for,” she suggested. “And we have new guests coming next week. We’ll be busy,” she mused.
“Oh, I think so,” Bessie agreed, though Annie sensed that she’d be sad to see their first guests leave. “What a week this has been,” Bessie exclaimed. “A little more excitement than I would have liked…” She trailed off and hugged her coffee mug to her lips.
They sat in silence again for a few minutes. Annie was thinking of everything that needed to be done at the house that day, and Bessie was lost in her own thoughts. A flutter of wings nearby drew their eyes up to a pretty little red bird. It landed gracefully in the low branches of a nearby oak tree, and both women found themselves smiling.
“Our visitor is back,” Annie noted.
“I’m not sure he ever left.” Bessie smiled, and closed her eyes. “I don’t need anyone to tell me that your father is still with us,” she said quietly. “He’s here, I’m sure of it.”
Annie watched the little bird for a minute. “I’m sure you’re right, Mama.”
I’m sure you’re right.
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The Rosewood Place Mysteries
When Annie Richards finds herself widowed at the age of 40, she leaves her home in New York City and returns to the small South Carolina town she grew up in. Hoping to create a new life for herself and her teenaged son, Annie teams up with her mother, Bessie, to buy a run down old plantation which they plan on turning into a beautiful bed and breakfast.
When an old enemy of Annie's turns up on her doorstep demanding that she sell her new home, Annie is determined to keep the woman from destroying her new dream. When the woman winds up dead in Annie's kitchen, it looks like the dream has become a nightmare as the police begin to suspect not only Annie but her contractor, Rory, as well.
Rory has a past that involves a stay in prison for assault and a high school romance with Annie. Will she let her old feelings for him cloud her judgment, or is he actually capable of murder? And why do people seem to think that there's some sort of buried treasure on the plantation's overgrown, long-vacant grounds?
Annie finds herself in the middle of a deadly treasure hunt that could end up costing her more than just her new bed and breakfast--it could cost her her life, too.
The Carly Keene Cozy Mysteries