The Lush Life (Samantha Jamison Mystery Book 8) (5 page)

Chapter 11

And So...

Mona and Teddy had gone to the emergency room at Doylestown Hospital. Then Mona texted that, yes, Teddy’s nose was broken and his lower lip required four stitches. His megawatt veneered teeth had sliced right through it. She didn’t dare call us on her cell as he was still ranting. They gave him a shot to calm him so they could stitch his lip because he kept screaming, “No
scarths
! No
scarths
!”

Mona assumed he meant no scars as he didn’t appear to be referring to scarves. We concurred.

A few hours later, we were gathered in Alicia’s office, Mona included, while poor Teddy was resting:
strung out on pain pills.
We were staring down at that box on Alicia’s desk and what it contained, that finger.

A rubber one.

I glared at Martha. “Was this your idea of a sick joke?”

“I swear, I had no hand in this...or finger.”

She actually said that with a straight face.

Hazel cut in. “It’s unnerving how you were telling us...”

An uneasy Betty said, “If it wasn’t Martha, then who?”

No one had any suggestions, just disturbing thoughts as to what this meant. Someone was sending me a message, but no one could figure out why or what that might be.

I was wondering where this was going, but not for long. My email dinged on my laptop. I smiled. It was from Clay. Finally! I clicked on it, but then frowned at the message.

‘I hope you appreciated my little gift.’

That was it. I stared down at the email.

Clay sent that package? No, he would never...

Then I scrutinized the return email: the same one-letter-off email address Mona had received.

Whoever did this had both of our private emails.

I tried to double back on the email like Clay had taught me. Nothing worked. I then asked Martha for her expertise: hacking. She gave it her best shot. Again, nothing.

“Whoever sent those two emails,” Martha said, “first to Mona then you, knows how to electronically disappear.”

Betty glanced around at all the high-end paintings on the walls. “Babysitting this house was one thing, but now...”

“I agree,” added Hazel. “No bonus or caper is worth the possible implications of this message. I don’t like it.”

“Ladies, ladies,” Martha said, sounding like a professor as she paced. We flinched as she picked up that finger. “I think someone is just playing with us. We’ve gained quite a rep for solving a lot of murky mysteries. This one might tax our skills. Maybe there’s something in this house they want and they’re challenging us find out what it is before they...”

“Although I can appreciate your esteemed, but highly obscure take,” I said, interrupting her, “this package has now entered us into the creepy phase of things: Mona’s bogus email, a severed finger, then my email, making us...”

Martha began waving that damn finger, cutting me off.

“...Confused! Don’t you see it? Someone is playing with us. We just haven’t figured out the
why
of it yet.”

“You believe this is a stupid finger joke?” an annoyed Mona asked Martha. “I’m certain this is more than that.”

“Ha! Words of wisdom from the Internet-duped Mona.”

“It’s also far from someone playing,” Mona retorted.

I reached for the phone. “Definitely borders scary.”

Mona moved to stop me. “You’re not calling the police, are you? Let’s talk this through.”

“No, I’m calling Clay first. I’m concerned about safety.”

“Then Clay would go ballistic worrying,” Martha said.

“Remember, I’m
armed
,” said Mona pointedly.

I let go of the phone. “You’re right. Maybe we should hold off to see if we could figure this out ourselves.”

“Although a sick message,” said Martha, still waving that finger, “I say we wait and see what happens next.”

Betty and Hazel nodded in agreement.

“I agree with Martha too,” said Mona. “Let’s not panic.”

Just then the doorbell chimed. No one reacted at first.

It chimed once again.

“Who can that be?” I said, getting up to go see.

By the time I reached the front door, the others, now concerned too and not about to let me go answer it myself, followed closely. I slowly opened the front door.

Who’s this?
Beyond was a trailer hitched to a pickup.

“I’m the
Worths
’ groundskeeper and forgot my key.”

I glanced back, arching a brow at everyone behind me.

I then turned back to our visitor. “And you are...?”

He held out his hand. “Sorry. I’m Lucas Conner.”

I wasn’t sure how to handle this as I shook his hand.

“The
Worths
’ never mentioned any groundskeeper.”

“I’ve been away. I’m back sooner than they expected.”

Trust a stranger who just shows up? I needed proof.

“I’m
housesitting
. So I should confirm this with the
Worths
. Plus, I’d like to see some identification too.”

“Will my driver’s license do?” he said, giving it to me.

“Give me a few minutes to check all this out, okay?”

He nodded. I then texted the
Worths
’ his description and license info to make sure Lucas was legit. The others kept a close eye on him while I waited.

Considering his age,
right around the senior ladies’ age,
he quickly became the target of their
...hormones?
Almost bald, he wore wire-rimmed glasses, was medium built with a disarming smile that captivated them. Drooling over him was overshooting it. Fascinated was a better word for their main interest:
Lucas was a male.

Any male walking, talking, and breathing in their age bracket set the tone for a spontaneous interaction
(rivalry)
amongst themselves. It never failed. I sighed at the thought.

Was this my future? Should I be taking more notes here?

Even though Mona targeted anyone regardless of age, they had to keep up with her version of
who held the most power and the money.
Lucas evidently didn’t cut it. She frowned, obviously still bothered by that finger episode.

“Later,” she said. “Time is money. I’ve got work to do.”

Like Martha quoted me, ‘It’s always about the money.’

After texting the
Worths
’ then Clay, I stared at Lucas.

Was he now a part of these unexpected, bizarre events?

Chapter 12

The Money & Maybe More

The
Worths
confirmed Lucas’s return via text message. Apparently, they had an on-and-off relationship with him. They didn’t want to get into it, but assured me despite his quirks and strange habits, they really needed Lucas for their property’s day-to-day maintenance. They were desperate.

Quirks and strange habits? Desperate?

But that presented a problem: what to do with Mona and Teddy, who were using the groundkeeper’s apartment.

“I’m not into this switcheroo business,” griped Martha.

I tried to reason with her. “No worries. I’ve asked Betty and Hazel to room together. This doesn’t involve you.”

“And for that I’m grateful, but you bunked Mona and Teddy right next to my room. I don’t need to hear all the moaning and groaning about his lip, nose, and good looks.”

“Use earplugs.”

“I do now. Teddy needs to man up big time. He’s worse than Mona, and that’s saying plenty. Makes her look good.”

“You’re slipping. You just gave her a compliment.”

“After finding out he’s an actor and being paid to be with her, I can’t believe she’s still rooming with him.”

“She’s trying to weasel out of Teddy who hired him.”

Martha grinned. “Even with a broken nose and split lip, I guess he’s worth it. Talk about taking one for the team...”

I chuckled. “Hey, maybe she should use earplugs too.”

“I’ve never seen a man so obsessed with mirrors.”

“Teddy’s trying to protect his rep just like you, Martha.”

“I can’t fault him there. Reps are important, but there’s more to this than meets the eye. Are we being played, mere pawns in what is about to go down here?”

“I agree. It’s like we’re in a manipulated chess game.”

“If so, it’s been well-played, even for pros like Mona.”

“So, the big question is, what will be their next move?”

Really, I should know by now not to ask that one.

Everyone was settling in their new rooms. The house was pretty quiet for a while, which was a nice change-up from the turmoil of the last two days. I’d decided to go for a walk outside, but then the driveway enunciator buzzed.

Again?

I went to the foyer door, opened it and stared out at another stranger. Her flaming red hair definitely came from a bottle. I doubted nature came up with that brassy shade, but somehow it complimented her green dress that hugged her weighty, voluptuous figure. Her pale skin was covered in freckles. Her stance felt confrontational though.

I forced a smile. “Hi, can I help you?”

“Clay Masters, please,” she said firmly.

Was that a southern accent I detected?

I gripped the door handle tighter. “...Clay?”

“I do believe that’s what I said, Miss...?”

Where did this aggressive belle come from?

Chapter 13

Miss Construed?

Okay, I admit I have a very low tolerance in the lack of info department where Clay is concerned, but what was this all about? Her arrival was unexpected. And lately, that’s all who was showing up here:
the unexpected.

I had no clue why these people were materializing while I was
housesitting
. A coincidence? My rational side kept saying there was a logical reason why this was happening. My paranoid side tended to favor Martha’s take: someone arranged this and was waiting until everyone was in place.

But for what? That theory didn’t make any sense.

I gave myself a mental writer’s slap. There was no way this was prearranged. I was stressed out. I had been knee-deep in so many mysteries lately, I wasn’t keeping this in perspective and had to step back to figure out whether any of this was related to me or just a mere coincidence of fate.

What did
she
want with Clay? I hated being abandoned in these information-less voids by Clay to fend for myself.

Miss Arrogant was still standing there, waiting.

“I’m Samantha Jamison,” I finally replied to her.

She threw her hand to her ample chest in shock.

“...You mean,
the
Samantha Jamison?” she drawled.

“I believe that’s what I said.”

She grabbed me in a bear hug. “I can’t believe it!”

I was barely holding my own, trying to ease off from her stranglehold when she finally let me go so I could breathe.

“Can’t believe what?” I asked, sucking in air.

“I didn’t recognize...that baseball hat you’re wearing...”

I took it off. “Well, as you can now see, it’s really me.”

She was still gushing over what an honor it was to meet me that I began to warm up to her. Maybe she wasn’t so obnoxious as I’d initially thought. She acted like a fan.

Should I give her an autographed copy of my last book?

While she babbled, my eyes caught sight of some luggage. Uh-oh. Okay, apparently she was expecting to stay with us. My goodwill abruptly took a nosedive.

Fan or no fan, why was she here at my doorstep?

“I see you’ve got luggage.”

She looked back to it. “Why, of course!”

Back in my court.

“...It’s that I wasn’t expecting anyone.”

She drew in a breath, surprised. “Clay didn’t tell you? He invited me by email. Here, take a look for yourself.”

I read it. The sender’s email was partially torn off.

Could it be the same bogus sender as our other two!

Now intrigued, I said, “Please come in, Miss...?”

“Oh, I am
soooo
sorry. It’s Scarlett O’Hara.”

She gave me a card.
President of one of my fan clubs?

“Your name is Scarlett O’Hara?” I asked, stunned.

“My mother just loved the book, Gone With The Wind.”

Great! Now I was dealing with real live fictional people.