Lois Lavrisa - Chubby Chicks 02 - Murderous Muffins Read online

  “Yes.” Cat’s deep brown eyes widened. “And I’m getting so close to finding out what really happened that night.”

  “How so?” I asked.

  “Remember that his former business partner, Micky Zwick, died suddenly as well. That makes three dead partners, who all had crossword puzzles with messages in purple ink left near their corpses. That’s gotta mean something.”

  “Like what?”

  “A clue.” Cat shrugged. “I’m not sure. But the trail is hot. I can’t leave it. Not now.” Cat leaned in, closer to the table. “Also, I have boxes in my SUV. I’ve wanted go over some accounting stuff for Sunshine Market. We have so much to take care of now that my dad is gone, and it’s too much for my mom to do. So you see, I have way too much to do here. I just couldn’t go with them.”

  “I see.” I nodded halfheartedly, not really understanding her reasoning for staying here when she could be on vacation with her family. But I cherished her and wanted to be supportive.

  Cat twisted her mouth as though in deep thought. “And my house is so eerie now that it’s empty. I can’t sleep there.”

  I felt bad for her. She seemed so lost.

  Cat unfolded a napkin. “So, I came here.”

  Uh oh. I wanted so badly to offer her a place to stay, but then she’d find out what I had tried to hide from her and the rest of the Chubby Chicks Club. They couldn’t know that I was illegally taking in boarders. I could get in all sorts of financial and legal trouble. Not that they would tell anyone, but once it was out of the bag, who knew who might find out? I had a pile of letters from the IRS and needed the tenants’ rent money just to keep the house from being taken away.

  How did I tell a friend—whom I would do anything for—that she couldn’t reside with me? At least not now. I’d be humiliated if she knew that I’d run out of money, was close to bankruptcy, and was teetering on the edge of losing my house. Maybe she wouldn’t ask me, although she had shown up at my doorstep with her luggage. So it was only a matter of time. I fidgeted with my hair. “It’s nice out today. Don’t you think? Not too stiflingly humid, as it has been. I think it’ll be a perfect day.”

  “Yes.” Cat gazed at me as she sipped her coffee. “I really don’t want to bother you, but I’d like to ask you something.” She set her cup down and looked inside it.

  “Oh?” Perhaps her cup was empty. I picked up the carafe. “Do you need more? Here, let me top you off.”

  Cat put her hand over her cup. “No. I’m fine. But thanks.”

  “Was there something else?”

  Cat played with the saucer under her cup. She moved it side to side. “You see, I was thinking about the Chubby Chicks Club. And I thought… Well, I don’t know how to say this.”

  “What?”

  Cat gazed at the flower centerpiece. “Um, well, never mind.”

  Maybe she didn’t want to stay here after all. “Speaking of our little group, what are Annie Mae and José up to? I haven’t seen them in a while.”

  “Annie Mae is away on an exchange professor teaching assignment at UNC Chapel Hill.”

  I asked, “Is that so? She’s still working even though she’s retired?”

  Cat grinned. “She loves to keep busy. I tell you what. She had so much fun playing detective on Lucy’s case with me. I think if she had a chance, she would do it again. As for me, trying to find out what happened to my dad, keeping my family safe, and running the business is enough. I don’t need to get involved in sleuthing.”

  I added, “Although, I was very proud of how you and Annie Mae found out who killed Lucy.”

  Cat smirked. “I have to admit, I kind of liked being a hero for the day and putting Scarlett behind bars.”

  “That was great. The whole city is still talking about it, too. You and Annie Mae were celebrities.” I sipped my coffee. “Who knew a sweet, rather upstanding store owner could commit murder?”

  “I know. People never fail to surprise me.”

  “You’re right about that.”

  “I’m glad that whole detective thing is done and behind me. Anyway, Annie Mae is out of town. She invited me to go up to North Carolina with her. But I said that I needed to stay in Savannah. Keep my eye on things here.” Cat’s shoulders sagged. “I’d like to talk to her, but she said she’s going to be out of touch for a few days as well. We’ll see her soon enough, not that anything exciting is going to happen around here that she’ll miss.”

  “No kidding. It’s pretty lackluster around here.” I asked, “So, I’ve been out of the loop for a few days, what’s going on with José?”

  “He’s showing the ropes to some new police recruits.”

  “Good. It never hurts to have more law enforcement on the streets.” I fidgeted with my cup. “Does he still play poker?”

  Cat nodded. “All the time. He told me that he won big the other night.”

  “He’s lucky.”

  “Well, I’m not so sure about that. He keeps winning against his arch rival, Officer Ray.”

  “Yes, I remember him. We met him the day we found Lucy.” My heart sank as I thought back to when all of us had found Lucy on the floor of her house, wrist slit open.

  Cat paused for a moment. “I still can’t believe that she’s gone.”

  “Me, either.” My eyes welled up. “But we still have each other.”

  “I am so thankful for all of you.” Cat put her hands in prayer formation.

  “Me, too. The Chubby Chicks Club is my family.”

  “Speaking of family, now that mine are out of town, actually out of the country, I’d like to find a place to stay so I won’t be alone.”

  The back of my throat tickled. I let out a small cough. “Any place in mind?”

  “José has an extra room at his house, but forget that. A married woman like me at a hunky single guy’s place just wouldn’t do.” Cat’s dark brown eyes shifted up.

  I leaned forward in my chair. “But he’s not interested in women.”

  Cat grinned as we locked eyes. “You, Annie Mae, and I know that, but no one else does. It could cause a scandal.”

  “You’re right. You know what they say about Savannah: ‘If you don’t know what you’re doing, someone else does.’”

  “Did Hattie say that?” Cat smiled.

  “She had more Southern expressions than there are azaleas in Savannah.” Because of my frequent use of Southernisms, Cat and Annie Mae kidded me that I spoke another language. “But you won’t be by yourself. Aren’t your boys still home?”

  “Nope. They’re spending a few days at a friend’s Tybee beach house. I’m solo.” Cat tapped the table.

  “You have me.”

  “I know. But I don’t want to impose on you.”

  “You know that you’re always welcome here. It’s just that I have a new tenant, I mean, relative arriving today. He’s staying in the last open bedroom. So it’s not like I don’t want to offer you a place to stay, it’s just that I don’t have a suitable room for you. I’d want you to be comfortable.”

  “Oh, please don’t worry about having something elaborate for me. I’m not picky. I can take the couch.” A smirk crept on Cat face. “With four kids, you know I can fall asleep standing up if I have to. I don’t want to be home alone at my house or a hotel room.” Cat pushed her plate away from her.

  Folding a linen napkin, I thought of all the reasons I should refuse her. As much as I treasured Cat, my little world felt like only duct tape and a prayer held it together.

  I took a deep breath. Say no. Say no. “Why, I insist that you stay here.”

  Cat jumped out of her chair and flung her arms around my neck as she gave me a quick peck on my cheek. “Are you sure? You’re the best.”

  “You’re always welcome Cat.”

  Cat sat back down. “Thanks.”

  Footsteps thumped on the wood floor. Mr. Phong, one of my longtime boarders, whom everyone believed was a very distant relative, entered the kitchen singing, “Everybody, let’s get up.
Hey, hey. Hey, hey. Hey, hey. If you can’t hear what I am a-saying, then read my paper.”

  At sixty-something, he’d learned English by singing pop songs, at least his version of the song. This one sounded like Robin Thicke’s “Blurred Lines.” “Good morning, Mr. Phong, do you remember my friend Cat?”

  Mr. Phong, wearing a tweed suit and a pressed green cotton shirt, nodded and grinned ear to ear. A headphone cord dangled from each ear. “Maybe I am out of the mind.”

  Cat grabbed and shook Mr. Phong’s hand. “Nice to see you again. It looks like we’re going to be housemates for a while.”

  Mr. Phong shrugged his shoulders as he continued to sing. Waving his hand, I saw the flash of his ruby-and-diamond ring. He poured a glass of juice and grabbed three muffins before he exited the kitchen.

  I made a dozen muffins every day, but Mr. Phong always took a few to start, then came back later to get whatever was left. At least they never went to waste.

  “You told us, but I forgot. How’s he related to you?” Cat stood.

  Rats. What had I told her before? I got up, then glided my chair in. “My brother-in-law’s third cousin, twice removed.”

  Cat set her coffee cup in the sink. “He’s getting better with English.”

  “Yes, he is. It’s all that listening to pop songs. And singing out loud, really loud.”

  “Does that get on your nerves?”

  “Not mine. I can tune it out pretty well. Although I’m not sure how my other guests feel about it. But that’s a part of living together. We have to accept each other’s idiosyncrasies.”

  “How many relatives do you have staying here now?”

  My eyebrows rose. With Cat around, I’d have to call them relatives and not boarders. “Two: Mr. Phong and a sweet, young college student, Lily. Well, and her boyfriend practically lives here, too. So, actually that makes three.”

  “How is Lily related?”

  Think. Think. “My great-great-aunt’s sister-in-law’s step-niece. Or something along those lines.” I’d never remember all the tales I’d spun. I just hoped Cat would forget them, too. “Oh, and there is one more guest due to arrive today. He’s some sort of temporary contractor here to work at that new company on Bay Street.”

  “It has initials, I think one is S and stands for Souza?”

  “Yes, that one.”

  “Sounds like you’ll have a full house.” Cat washed her cup and put it on the drying rack.

  I only had one decent bedroom left, but it was reserved for the new tenant. The only other bedroom upstairs was mine, and it had a collapsed ceiling corner due to a leak, which, in turn, had soaked the wood floor beneath it. That was why I slept in the walk-in pantry. I just hadn’t had the time or the funds to fix the leak. I had to discard the bed because it was soaked through. Luckily the dresser and nightstand were still intact.

  Now that Cat was here, I needed to make the room livable on a dime. And pray that it didn’t rain, for I feared that she’d be washed out of the room. After I quickly cataloged what I had in my backyard shed, I came up with some things that might work. I’d nail a sheet of plastic to the ceiling and cover the damaged floor with a piece of plywood, then throw a rug over that so Cat wouldn’t get splinters. There was an old collapsible cot that could work as a rather decent bed. I’d have to figure out how to fix the folding leg on the cot to make sure it didn’t crumple on Cat.

  “I really appreciate you letting me stay here. Thank you.” Cat dried her hands on a floral kitchen towel. “I don’t want it to be too much for you.”

  “Don’t be silly.”

  “So you’re sure it’s no trouble?”

  “None at all.” Having her in my home created a pail full of difficulties for me, but I’d sell my soul to help Cat. “I’ll put you upstairs in the corner bedroom.”

  “Wait.” Cat held up her hand. “As I remember, you only have four bedrooms and that one is yours. I’ll crash somewhere down here. I don’t want to take your room.”

  “No, you will not. I have a few things to fix up first. But I insist you take the bedroom.”

  “Where will you sleep?”

  The walk-in pantry. Like I’ve slept in for weeks now. “Don’t worry about me. I have a cozy place to sleep downstairs.” And that was the truth.

  Cat picked up her suitcase. “This will be fun.”

  This might turn into a nightmare, but my dear friend needed me. “It sure will be.”

  “I’ll just put my things in the room. Then I have to go to the Sunshine Market and check up on our assistant manager. While I’m there, I’ll get us some groceries. What do you think about Mexican tonight?”

  “Lovely,” I said.

  “Then that is what we’ll have.” Cat walked up the stairs.

  The doorbell chimed.

  I opened the door to find a dark-haired, slim man on my porch. His eyes were a deep blue-green, his smile full of straight white teeth. Dimples formed in his cheeks, and his skin was deep golden-brown, as though he was of Latin descent.

  My, oh my. He looked like a tall, cool drink of tequila.

  A guitar and a large beige duffle bag stood next to him. He wore a white T-shirt, a beige linen blazer, and snug faded jeans with cowboy boots.

  He stuck out his hand. “I’m Xavier, your new tenant.”

  Chapter Two

  Captivated by his handsomeness, for a minute I couldn’t speak. My tongue was as tight as a corset.

  Xavier pulled out a piece of paper. “Am I at the right house? Are you Barbara Elizabeth Susan Gordon?”

  He spoke English with a faint accent, perhaps South American. My brain finally engaged. “Yes. Pardon my temporary loss of manners. Please come in. And my friends call me Bezu.”

  “Oh?”

  “It’s the letters from my first two names and zu for Susan.” I led him into the foyer.

  “You have a great old house.”

  I grinned. “Old being the operative word here.”

  Xavier ran his eyes up and down me. “The house might be old, but you certainly are not.”

  His words sounded careful, as though English wasn’t his first language.

  Feeling uncomfortable that he had undressed me with his eyes, I crossed my arms on my chest and cringed. At thirty-five I often felt like an old maid who was a full-time caregiver to an ailing house that left me very little life of my own, beyond seeing my Chubby Chicks Club friends Annie Mae, Cat, and José. “Yes, I’m slightly younger than this hundred-and-fifty-year-old house.”

  “By a long shot.” Xavier grinned and then followed me.

  We made our way through the foyer and then to the hallway.

  We entered the kitchen. What now? I didn’t want to stand there and stare at him like a buffoon. He was cute, no doubt, but something about him made me feel uneasy at the same time. I needed to get to business.

  “Let’s get you acquainted. For breakfast I put out fresh muffins, coffee, and juice. Your bedroom is the first one on the left at the top of the stairs. You have your own bathroom, as my listing mentioned. Linens and towels are provided. I have a standard lease for you to sign as well. It’s in your room. By the end of the day, please read and sign it and then leave it on the kitchen counter.” This made my boardinghouse agreement and rules appear enforceable and legitimate. What court would ever uphold a tenant’s signed lease in an illegal boardinghouse? Zero.

  Xavier followed me into the kitchen, glancing around. “So far so good.”

  Sliding open a drawer, I withdrew a key. I handed it to Xavier. “There is a lock on your door for privacy. You are welcome to use any of the common areas downstairs, including the sitting room, living room, dining room, and the kitchen. There is a laundry room off the kitchen at your disposal as well. And you are welcome to make use of the front porch or the back courtyard.”

  “Sounds like you’ve got it all covered. I appreciate it.” Xavier opened his jacket, exposing a gun on his hip.

  A Glock 22, like the one my dad had owned f
or self-protection. He’d taught me how to use it. Why did Xavier carry his? I knew that José carried one, but as far as I knew, Xavier was not on the police force.

  He pulled out his wallet, extracted a wad of money from a gold engraved clip with the initials LRS. “Your classified said cash, right?”

  I nodded as I played with my pearl necklace. Rolling the smooth pearls in my fingers soothed me like a security blanket.

  “Here’s my first month’s rent plus deposit.” He put the clip and wallet in his jacket pocket.

  “Thank you.” It was none of my cotton-picking business about his gun, but it tugged at me. I should forget about it. “Are you in law enforcement?”

  “No.” Xavier cleared his throat. “Why?”

  “I saw that you’re packing.” That sounded corny.

  He grinned. “Where were you looking?”

  “Your gun.” Blushing, I looked away from Xavier. “I apologize, that was none of my business.” He never answered my question about the gun. “Before you head upstairs, can you do me a favor, please? I would like you to say, if anyone asks, that you are my cousin. A very distant one.”

  Xavier leaned in to me. “A kissing cousin?”

  I slid one foot back as my stomach flipped. “No.”

  “Okay, cuz. Whatever you say.” He slung his duffel bag over his shoulder. “First room to the left, right?”

  “Yes. Make yourself at home.” In fear of sounding inhospitable, I hoped that he did not sense my insincerity in that cliché. He was one tenant I didn’t want getting too comfortable. In fact, I had a feeling that I might have to ask him to leave soon. On the outside, he appeared sophisticated and refined, but he acted…I didn’t know, but something about him seemed rough and brash.

  Xavier climbed the stairs. I couldn’t help noticing how his faded blue jeans hung around his backside. Just enough to see that he had quite a nice build, neither too skinny nor too bulky muscular.

  What was I doing? Number one—I could not mix business with pleasure, even though he was rather flirtatious and quite attractive. He’s the tenant and I’m the landlord. And number two—he could be trouble with a gun and all. Did I really need the money that desperately to keep him here, even though my gut told me he could be bad news?