Down Home and Deadly

All of the characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events is purely coincidental.

Sisters Christine Pearle Lynxwiler, Jan Pearle Reynolds, and Sandy Pearle Gaskin are usually on the same page. And it’s most often a page from their favorite mystery. So when the idea for a Christian cozy mystery series came up during Sunday dinner at Mama’s, they determined to take their dream further than just table talk. Thus the Sleuthing Sisters mystery series was born. The three sisters love to hear from readers by email at
[email protected]
.

Death on a Deadline (Book One) - Kindle Edition

Drop Dead Diva
(Book Two) - Kindle Edition

*****

*****

If you lay down with the dogs, you’ll come up with fleas
.

“
Don’t
forget to call the groomer to see what time you should pick up Fluffy,” Lisa yelled over her shoulder as she headed toward the sauna.

I slumped into my chair and reached for the phone
book. Nepotism was alive and well in
America
,
and my so-called career was a train wreck.

Actually
,
train wreck was probably a little too dramatic. More like an economy car, really. With a dead battery. And me trudging along behind, pushing uphill.

I waved my hand in front of my face, trying to disperse the cloying scent of Lisa’s expensive perfume. How did I get here? A year ago I was a valued employee, on the fast track to buying my boss’s health club for a good price, with the added bonus of owner financing. Until Bob asked me to show his rich daughter a little about running the club to help her get her confidence back after her recent separation from her husband.

If Lisa had a confidence problem, she covered it well with a large mask of egotism. Ever since she showed up, I’d been edging closer and closer to becoming an indentured servant. I still had all my old tasks. (Lisa couldn’t figure out how to
actually
run
the club, only how to use the equipment.) But in addition, I was her daytime maid.

“How low can I go?” I complained to the empty office and picked up the phone, a prayer for patience running through my mind as I flipped through the business card index for the groomer’s number.

Wait until Carly heard this one. At the thought of my sister’s reaction, my gaze went automatically to the family picture I kept on my desk. Or rather to the place it used to be. “I don’t believe it.” My picture had been replaced by one of Lisa cuddling her pampered pooch.

I slammed the phone down. “That
so
does it.”

Without stopping to analyze, I grabbed an empty plastic bag from Lisa’s expensive takeout lunch and filled it with my personal things. The things I could find.

I yanked open the top drawer of the desk. There
was my
family picture. At least it didn’t get thrown out with the garbage. Or stuck in the pool supply closet, like all my paintings from the office wall did when I took a Branson trip awhile back. “She can put up all the modern art she wants now,” I muttered as I cleaned out the drawer.

Satisfied I had everything I couldn’t live without, I snatched up my keys. “I’m outta here.”

I stomped down the hall, pushed open the front door, and crashed into Bob.

“Jenna?” He shifted the box he was carrying to effectively block my exit. “What are you doing?”

I took a reluctant step back into the building. “Leaving.”

“When will you be back?”

When your daughter figures out she isn’t the queen of the universe
. “When you’re ready to sign on the dotted line and make me the owner.” Same thing.

His face reddened. “Ah, Jenna. I was about ready to do that
,
actually. But something’s come up and I’m a little short on cash. So even if I did sell it to you now, I couldn’t owner finance. My accountant
.
 
.
 
.
”

I hadn’t been impressed the first time Bob told me what excuse he and his accountant had cooked up for not selling me the place, and I sure didn’t plan to stay around and listen to it again. I put my hand on the box to move it out of my way.

“Wait!” Bob quickly opened the box and pulled something from it. He gave me his most suave smile
and dropped the box at his feet. H
e held up a blue
T
-shirt. White lettering across the front commanded
,
“Get in the Swim with Jenna Stafford.”

I frowned. He hoped to win me over with the very
T
-shirts I’d protested? Capitalizing on my Olympic glory (or lack of, in my opinion, considering I lost) had been the thing I disliked most about this job. A necessary evil. But definitely not a persuasion point for staying.

His smile stretched wider. “I know how you always hated the pink ones, so I got them in blue.”

I sighed. “We both know who asked for them in blue.” Demanded was more like it. “And speaking of her
.
 
.
 
.
” I moved the
T
-shirt out of my way like a bull
charging
a red cloth and brushed past him. “You’d better call the groomer to see what time you should pick up Fluffy.” The door closed behind me.

Thankfully he didn’t follow me.

Something about standing in front of the familiar building with my belongings in a plastic bag made my insides quiver. After months of giving notice then giving in to Bob’s pleading to stay
, I’d finally done it. I’d quit.
I took a deep breath of fresh
September
air and exhaled slowly. Would I be sorry? Eventually, maybe, but not today.

My cell rang before I got to my vehicle. I glanced at the caller ID. Bob. Probably couldn’t find the groomer’s number. I ignored the call and stowed my stuff in the front seat of the SUV. Before I could turn the key, Sister Sledge belted out
,
“
We Are Family.
”

I jumped. Since my old phone was at the bottom of
Table
Rock
Lake
, I’d been forced to get a new one. And I still hadn’t gotten used to the personalized ringtones
my nephew
Zac had set up for me. What was it with teenagers and technology? And why did my youthful thirty suddenly seem so old?

At least I had sense enough to know that ringtone was my sister, Carly. Just what I needed—a sympathetic ear.

I flipped the phone open.

She started to talk so fast I couldn’t understand a single word.

“Carly. Slow down.”

“The. Grand. Opening. Of.
Down Home
. Diner. It’s two weeks from
Fri
day
. That’s sixteen days.” She enunciated her words as if English was my second language. Or third.

Even though buying and refurbishing the Lake View Diner had been Carly’s dream, the realization of that dream was proving a wee bit stressful. “I know that. Remember
,
I made sure I wasn’t on the schedule at the athletic club that day so that I could help you?” I started the engine. “Not that it matters now.”

“What do you mean, it doesn’t matter now?” The frantic tone was back. “It matters to me. I need your help!”

“You’ve got it. As much as you need.” I resisted the urge to peel out of the parking lot as I raged about the injustices I’d endured. She sympathized until finally my white
-
knuckle grip on the steering wheel relaxed. When I was almost home, I half-laughed. “Sorry for ranting so long. But that’s it. I’m not working there anymore.”

“When I called, I was going to ask you to see if Bob could let you have a few days off. But now, with you quitting, well, this is just perfect.” I guess she heard herself, because she hastily added, “Heaven knows I’ve been so irritated at Bob since he brought Lisa in and made you a flunky.”

“Thanks for clearing up any remaining delusions I might have
had
about my job.”

“Hey, that’s what sisters are for.” Carly paused. “You okay with this?”

“Sure. I will be.” I slowed at my street and turned on the blinker then glanced in the rearview mirror. Not a car in sight. So at least my boss hadn’t followed me home. “And I really don’t want to talk to Bob for a few days
,
anyway.” With any other job, I’d have felt bad about not giving notice, but I
had
been giving notice ever since Lisa came. Bob just hadn’t been listening.

“Great. How fast can you get over here?”

*****

“Who put that table with a checker set on it out on the porch?”
Alice
asked, her graying brows drawn together.

Carly looked up from a booth where she’d spent the morning interviewing wait staff and cooks. “I did.”

Alice pursed her lips and nodded.

Carly gave me a look that said
,
“Can you handle this, please?” and turned back to
Marco
, a young
Italian
who’d done a great job working at the health club for several months. Until Lisa fired him a couple of days ago out of the blue. I’d asked Carly to interview him, so I owed her.

I put my hand on
Alice
’s arm. “You’ve been working hard. I made some tea awhile ago. Want some?”

Alice nodded. “That sounds good.”

I picked
up
my cell phone off the counter and slid it into my pocket as I pushed open the double doors. Something about the new phone made it hard to keep up with. I didn’t even remember putting it there.

Alice followed me into the kitchen. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m thrilled your sister wanted to buy our diner, but she sure has some strange ideas.”

“Change is never easy.” I smiled at my reflection in the stainless steel side
-
by
-
side refrigerator. I’d been moonlighting incognito for about a year as local advice columnist Dear Pru. Now I was starting to sound like her in my everyday conversations. “You loved the diner just like it was.” I handed her a glass of ice.

She gave me a sharp look.

“I mean, everyone did. Love it,” I stammered. So much for being wise. “But it’s normal for Carly to want to do some things to make it her own.”

“Carly might do well to remember what your mama always says.”

I poured tea into her glass. “What’s that?” Unlike me, our mama is a fount of wisdom. Hard to know which thing
Alice
was referring to.

“If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.” She took a big chug of her tea.

I was pretty sure m
y
mama
had never
said the word
ain’t
in her life,
but I had heard her echo that general sentiment before. “Oh. Yeah.”