Board Stiff (An Elliott Lisbon Mystery)

Praise for Kendel Lynn’s Elliott Lisbon Mysteries

BOARD STIFF

“A solid and satisfying mystery, yes indeed, and the fabulous and funny Elliott Lisbon is a true gem! Engaging, clever and genuinely delightful.”  

– Hank Phillippi Ryan,

Agatha, Anthony and Macavity Award-Winning Author

“Kendel Lynn captures the flavor of the South, right down to the delightfully quirky characters in this clever new mystery series. Elli Lisbon is the Stephanie Plum of the South!”

– Krista Davis,

New York Times
Bestselling Author of the Domestic Diva Mysteries

“A sparkling new voice in traditional mystery.”

– CJ Lyons,

New York Times
Bestselling Author

“A cross between an educated, upper class Stephanie Plum and a less neurotic Monk. Put this on your list for a great vacation read.”

– Lynn Farris,

National Mystery Review Examiner at Examiner.com

“Elliott is smart and sassy, takes no guff and pulls no punches. Packed with humor, romance, danger and adventure, this is a good mystery full of plot twists and turns, with red herrings a plenty and an ending that I found both surprising and satisfying.”

– Cozy Mystery Book Reviews

OTHER PEOPLE’S BAGGAGE

“Lost luggage has never been this fun! With well-drawn characters,
Other People’s Baggage
is your first class ticket to three fast-paced adventures full of mystery, murder, and magic.”

– Elizabeth Craig,

Author of the Southern Quilting Series

“Kendel Lynn’s
Switch Back
[in
Other People’s Baggage
] is a clever, entertaining mystery with small town flavor and Texas flair!”

– Debra Webb,

USA Today
Bestselling Author

“A cozy triple-scoop that tastes divine…the pleasantly contrasting novellas make it easy to finish off a story in one sitting.”

–
Library Journal

“Although mixed up luggage is the thread that connects this trio of globetrotting novellas, it’s snappy dialogue, clever storytelling, and charming characters that are the real common denominators…I’m already hooked on their three new mystery series, and I’ve only read the prequels!”

– Maddy Hunter,

Bestselling Author of the Passport to Peril Mystery series

“Those who enjoy travel and mysteries like myself will definitely enjoy reading
Other People’s Baggage…
The mix-ups are a creative theme for tying the stories together, and I loved seeing how each sleuth dealt with the problem. A very fun collection!”

– Beth Groundwater,

Author of the Claire Hanover Gift Basket Designer and

RM Outdoor Adventures Mystery Series

Books in the Elliott Lisbon Mystery Series

by Kendel Lynn

Novels

BOARD STIFF (#1)

WHACK JOB (# 2)

(
coming Spring 2014
)

Novellas

SWITCH BACK (prequel)

(in OTHER PEOPLE’S BAGGAGE)

BOARD STIFF

An Elliott Lisbon Mystery

Part of the Henery Press Mystery Collection

First Edition

Digital Kindle edition | April 2013

Henery Press

www.henerypress.com

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever, including Internet usage, without written permission from Henery Press, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Copyright © 2012 by Kendel Lynn

Cover art by Fayette Terlouw

This is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

ISBN-13: 978-1-938383-35-9

Printed in the United States of America

For Babka

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I’ve been blessed and loved and encouraged to get to this point in my life, and I’m grateful.

Thank you to Hank Phillippi Ryan, CJ Lyons, Krista Davis, Gigi Pandian, Nancy Shields, Chris Cook, Lorin Oberweger, and extra love to my mom, Suzanne Atkins.

Thank you to my Sisters in Crime Guppies, the Beaufort County Sheriff’s Office on Hilton Head Island, and all the little chickens in the Hen House. A special thank you to Diane Vallere, who always has my back.

ONE

I’m
embarrassed to admit my most vivid memory of that night is of ten minutes in the library with Nick Ransom. In my defense, three of those minutes were damn good minutes, and I had no idea the murder of a colleague was only a few hours away.

I was seeking refuge from the well-dressed and well-heeled at a party for the Ballantyne Foundation when Ransom walked back into my life. I stiffened at the sight. His smooth skin and sharp features made my breath catch, just as they had twenty years before. He looked like Batman. Christian Bale Batman, not the other one in the gray leotard and blue underpants.

“Elli Lisbon.” He leaned in and kissed my cheek. “I’d heard you were Director of the Ballantyne Foundation.”

“Well, Nick Ransom. How disappointing. I thought you were dead.”

He rocked back on his heels and smiled. “No, not dead yet. Though a sniper in Rio came close.”

Nick Ransom, my college major. I loved him from afar until he asked me out during our first class together. We rounded three bases over five dates and would’ve slid home on the sixth had he not left me waiting in the rain a week before Christmas. Two days later he left a seven-word message on my answering machine: “Not our time, Red. You take care.” I never saw him again.

Until tonight. I’d heard Ransom had moved back to the island, so I knew I’d see him sooner or later. I’d just been counting on later. And certainly not at a private fundraiser I organized myself, including a specific list of attendees that did not include his name.

He ran his finger along the spines of the leather-bound books, as if browsing the Ballantyne’s stunning collection of classics and first editions. They were stacked floorboard to ceiling on wide mahogany bookshelves with an elegant brick fireplace in between.

The warm smell of burning wood mixed with the tangy scent of aged paper and Ransom’s intoxicating cologne. Sandalwood and ginger. The fire snapped, and I ducked around a rolling ladder to the other side of the fireplace.

“You look the same, Red,” he said.

“I’m surprised you remember me.”

“You wouldn’t believe the things I remember about you.”

I sucked in my stomach. Thank God I had the good sense to splurge on a new pleated floral dress and the cutest pair of buckle pumps. Yes, I needed to lose ten pounds. Okay, fifteen. But the thought of him seeing me naked? I vowed right then to stop eating cupcakes and get my butt back on the bike first thing the next morning.

Funny how I jumped to naked.

“So, Ransom, what brings you to the Big House? I didn’t see your name on the guest list.”

“Were you looking?”

I started to shake my head, a denial fresh on my lips when he stepped closer. His gaze held mine for so long, I forgot my own name. He took my face in his hands and kissed me as if the ship was sinking and the lifeboats were full. Thirty seconds later, his hands slipped from my neck to my waist, slowly gathering my skirt up by the hem.

Oh boy. I slapped my palm on the bookshelf, using it as leverage in case I accidentally slid to the floor. I drank in his taste. The feel of his chest beneath my hands. The feel of his hands beneath my skirt. It felt so good, so delicious. So familiar.

I pulled back. The years between us dissipated like sand slipping through an hourglass. The lines around his eyes faded and he looked at me with his same boyish grin. His eyes were dark, full of mischief.

He was a scoundrel and a shit. And he was standing in my sanctuary. Invading my Ballantyne. Uninvited.

I tilted my head up at him. “Well, that wasn’t worth waiting for. Still all fumbly hands and sloppy kisses. You really should be better at this by now.”

The mischief in his eyes dimmed and I patted him on the cheek. “Maybe it’s not our time. You take care.”

My heels sank into the deep wool rug as I crossed the library. They were higher than I was used to and I prayed I wouldn’t trip on the way out. “See you in another twenty years,” I said and closed the door.

Holy shit, I thought. Did I really just walk out on Nick Ransom? I couldn’t have planned a better exit if I’d been given two weeks’ notice and a script. I did a little dance across the foyer of the Big House just as Tod Hayes, Ballantyne Administrator, hit the bottom step of the center staircase. His normally neat brown hair had a decidedly disheveled look.

“Finally, Elliott. I’ve been all over this place looking for you.”

“Here I am.” I glanced over my shoulder, but the doors to the library remained closed. “Shall we go up to the party?”

Grabbing his sleeve, I practically dragged him up the wide steps toward the ballroom where one hundred and fifty guests drank and danced at the Foundation’s May Bash fundraiser at the Big House on Sea Pine Island, South Carolina.

The Ballantyne manse earned its nickname for the obvious: it had the grandeur of a city mansion and the grace of a country estate. The house sat up high amidst acres of magnolia trees and live oaks, sharing its majesty with the whole plantation. Figuratively, of course. The Big House offered no tours, visiting hours, or party rentals. Receiving a Ballantyne invitation in your mailbox was akin to finding a golden ticket in a chocolate bar.

Tod was helping me man the Bash in the absence of the Ballantynes, who were on safari in India. Or maybe it was mountain climbing in Pakistan. They entrusted me with their life’s work while away doing more life’s work. Tonight that included acting as one part host and one part referee.

“So what’s up? Is Mr. Abercorn dancing naked on the tables again?”