A Dead End (A Saints & Strangers Cozy Mystery Book 1) (10 page)

She dropped her backpack by the bed and felt a wave of exhaustion roll over her. She was bone tired and it baffled her. She’d worked ten hours days full of physical activity for years and never took so much as a ten-minute power nap. Why did sleepy Westdale have this effect on her?

The conversation with Chris had been brief. He seemed surprised to see Kit show up with a detective. She felt a little guilty about that part, but Romeo was polite and asked easy questions. He basically had Chris confirm what he’d told Kit. To Chris’s obvious relief, Romeo didn’t give the mechanic a hard time about what he’d intended to do with the motor home. He was more interested in solving the murder and it showed.

Kit sat down on the edge of her bed and checked the time. She could probably sneak in a nap before dinner and no one would know. Heloise preferred a later dinner and everyone was out now anyway.

She slipped off her sandals and inched her way to the top of the bed, sliding underneath the silk sheets. Her foot brushed against something at the base of the bed. Something that moved.

Kit moved her foot aside. “Which cat are you?” she asked the sheets. She tried to recall their names but failed miserably. “Miss Moneypenny?”

She glanced down at the movement under the sheets. The shape was all wrong for a cat. Something touched her leg and she bolted from the bed, throwing back the top sheet.

Kit screamed like she’d never screamed in her life, not even when she’d played Victim #2 in a low budget horror movie that she filmed during her first hiatus from
Fool’s Gold
.

The long snake slithered its way out of her bed to the floor. Kit scrambled onto a nearby chair, which was useless because if the snake could get into her bed, it could get onto a chair. Her heart pounded and she gripped the back of the chair with both hands.

Her mother appeared in the doorway with a look of mild concern. “What would possibly make you scream like that, Katherine? Are you auditioning for the Westdale Plays and Players?”

“Watch out,” Kit called. “There’s a giant snake coming toward you.”

Heloise bent down and scooped up the three-foot-long reptile. “Oh, have you not met Josephine?”

“Josephine?” Kit repeated incredulously. “You named the snake after Grandma? Wait, forget I asked. Of course you did.”

Heloise planted a kiss on the snake’s head. “I rescued her from an unworthy owner. She’s a Western Gaboon viper and a little sweetheart.”

“Aren’t those venomous?” Kit asked, still atop the chair.

“Naturally,” Heloise replied.

“It was in my bed,” Kit said. “It could have bitten me.”

“That’s why we have vials of antivenin in the kitchen pantry.”

Kit tried to steady her breathing. “Any other creatures lurking around here that I should know about? I mean, what happened to good, old-fashioned dogs, cats and horses?” Her mother had always shown an affinity for animals, but Huntley had failed to update Kit on these newer additions.

“Have you met Mr. Tumnus?” Heloise asked.

“Good God, please don’t tell me you have a centaur.”

Heloise wrapped Josephine around the back of her neck. “Don’t be ridiculous. That Mr. Tumnus is a faun. Our Mr. Tumnus is a rat.” She gave the doorframe a tap. “Dinner’s at six-thirty.”

Once she was gone, Kit dissolved into a heap on the chair. She couldn’t stay at Greyabbey any longer than necessary. Not when there were vipers afoot. When had her mother become Dr. Doolittle? She had to solve this case and soon or she’d be checking into the asylum, although it seemed to her that she already had.

Kit chose a blue shift dress to wear to the sports bar in Eastdale. Her look was casual yet classy, her preferred style. Between Westdale society functions and Hollywood galas, Kit wondered how she’d survived all these years. She blew out her hair and then ran the flattening iron through it to calm any frizz. High humidity wasn’t doing her hair any favors.

She kept her makeup simple, applying a sheer coat of lip gloss and a touch of mascara. Her skin was smooth and unblemished so she didn’t bother with any foundation. She’d sweat it away in an hour anyway if the bar was as full as she expected it to be.

Giving herself an approving nod in the mirror, she took a big-toothed selfie and uploaded it for her fans. If she ever had the chance to get back in the business, she’d grab it with both hands. In the meantime, she was determined not to lose her fan base.

There were immediate responses to her post and Kit felt pleased. Those Hollywood big shots didn’t know what they’d thrown away. Kit Wilder brought viewers to their televisions. She brought ratings. Talk about fools.

On a whim, Kit decided to call Beatrice and check in. Maybe the ban had been lifted and Kit could return to her life. Dreamers gonna dream.

“Kit, doll, how’s higher education?” Beatrice’s voice was so loud, it tickled Kit’s ear.

“Hi Beatrice. How’s everything with you?”

“My lips are chapped from all the butt-kissing. Otherwise, I’m peachy. What’s new in Pilgrimville?”

Kit smiled, despite herself. “It’s fine. Listen, I spoke to Jordan the other day and he mentioned that Geoffrey Tinicum is directing an action film…”

Beatrice cut her off. “Not a snowball’s chance in Texas, sweetheart. The company that’s financing Geoffrey’s pet project is owned by the same company as
Fool’s Gold
.”

“Oh,” Kit said in a small voice. That was probably why Jordan had heard about it in the first place.

“Don’t get me wrong, you’d be amazing in the role,” Beatrice told her. “There’s just no way Geoffrey would fight for you. It’s his first time working with the company.”

“And there are plenty of eager young actresses to choose from, I’m sure,” Kit said, a sour taste in her mouth.

“I will keep gently pushing you,” Beatrice said. “You know I’m happy to keep your name on people’s lips, but for what it’s worth, I think you’re doing a smart thing.”

“Moving back in with my mother like a loser?”

“That’s temporary,” Beatrice said dismissively. “You’re building a new life for yourself with a firm foundation. You’d never have that here, no matter how successful you were. You’d always worry and wonder when the roles would dry up. When they did, what would you do at forty years old with no other work experience?”

Kit pressed her lips together. “Are you saying I should give up? Not try to make a comeback?”

“Of course not,” Beatrice scolded her. “I would never say that. I want what you want. Not for nothing, but I only make money if you make a comeback.”

“You’re a patient woman then,” Kit said.

“Damn right I am. Plus, I happen to adore you. That makes me more patient than I might be otherwise.”

Kit felt a rush of affection for her agent. “Thanks, Beatrice. You’re the best.”

“Now go find a rich husband who can buy you a production company.”

Kit groaned and tucked her phone away in her handbag. Like her mother, Beatrice was best in small doses.

Kit sat in a small classroom in Hampshire Hall for the Introduction to Psychology seminar. In addition to their lectures, the students broke into smaller groups for an hour-long seminar each week. Kit had been relieved to discover that she’d be in the same seminar group as Francie and Charlotte. She’d been disappointed, however, that the seminar would be run by Josh Hardgrave, the teaching assistant, rather than Professor Wentworth. Aside from his general unpleasant disposition, Josh seemed to have a bee in his bonnet about Kit. Probably because she’d turned him down for a date when she was sixteen. Some people could really hold a grudge.

She kept her phone inside her notebook so that she could access incoming text messages. She didn’t want to miss any developments in the case. When she saw Romeo’s name flash on her screen, she jumped in her seat.

“Ants in your pants, Miss Wilder?” Josh inquired with a smirk.

“Sorry, my leg fell asleep,” she replied. “And at the rate we’re going, the rest of me is sure to follow.”

Other students giggled and Josh’s face reddened. “This is a seminar where we have in-depth discussions on a given topic. Perhaps if you focus on what we’re doing instead of the phone hidden in your notebook, you might be less inclined to take a nap.”

Kit closed the notebook, her gaze never wavering from Josh. “Okay, Josh. Let’s discuss.”

The discussion consisted mainly of Josh’s thoughts on common myths about psychology with a few brave voices wading into the conversation on occasion. Kit vividly remembered how much Josh liked the sound of his own voice. It was the primary reason she’d rejected his advances. Guys like Josh were a dime a dozen in Westdale and, unfortunately, the guys in Los Angeles weren’t much better. That was probably why she was drawn to Romeo. He was nothing like Josh Hardgrave or Charlie Owen.

At the end of the seminar, she threw her notebook into her tote bag and rushed out the door. She was chomping at the bit to read Romeo’s text.

Francie and Charlotte found her leaning against the wall, hunched over her phone.

“They think they found the owner of the muscle car,” Kit told them. She’d updated them on the investigation last night on FaceTime. Francie and Charlotte seemed to be joined at the hip, which was convenient for Kit. She never had to say anything twice.

“Someone local?” Charlotte asked.

“No way,” Francie replied. “I’ll bet it’s drugs.”

Kit scanned the message. “His name is Vincent Delfino. Apparently, he’s a bookie.”

“Gambling,” Francie corrected herself. “Close enough.”

“Romeo says he frequents a couple of bars in Eastdale.”

“Which ones?” Francie asked eagerly. “We should go check him out. That would be exciting.”

“I’ll see if I can find out,” Kit promised. Anything to get this investigation over with so she could move into her new house. She missed having her own space. Despite Greyabbey’s enormous size, Kit never felt like she had privacy. If it wasn’t a family member or a member of staff, it was an animal nipping at her heels. Last night she got up to go to the bathroom and was followed back to her room by a duck. After the viper incident, she didn’t bat an eyelid; she simply closed the door behind her and crawled back into bed.

“Have you heard of Fanatics?” Kit asked, reading Romeo’s reply text. He seemed to be as glued to his phone as she was to hers.

“I think some of the guys from class hang out there on game nights,” Francie commented.

“Guys from class? We should definitely go then,” Charlotte said.

“You girls aren’t twenty-one, though,” Kit said.

“Don’t need to be,” Francie pointed out. “We can go in and eat and watch the game. We just can’t order alcohol.”

“Watch what game, exactly?” Kit asked. “Do you even know what games are on?”

Francie and Charlotte exchanged thoughtful looks. “Baseball?” Charlotte ventured slowly.

Francie nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, definitely baseball.”

“Do you know anything about baseball?” Kit inquired, guessing the answer was not even remotely.

“Of course,” Charlotte replied. “My father’s new wife was a cheerleader for the Eagles.”

Kit bit back a laugh. “Uh huh. Okay then. You can come.”

Charlotte and Francie high-rived each other.

“I’ll invite my cousin. He’s single. We’ll make a night of it.”

Francie’s eyebrows shot up. “Crispin?”

“Yes,” Kit answered, her Cupid radar on high alert. “Crispin. I’m supposed to be spending time with family now that I’m home so two birds, one night out.” Personally, she thought Crispin was a little too old for an eighteen-year-old, but her mother had been eighteen when she’d married her father. Her father had been twenty-six at the time. It did happen and, on occasion, it even lasted until death do they part. Whether his untimely death had saved them from a divorce down the road, no one could say for sure.

Kit walked through the lobby of the office building that the newspaper shared with two lawyers and an accountant. The Westdale Gazette was a small operation, but Crispin was a zealous and dedicated owner and editor. Kit had no doubt that this would have been her cousin’s vocation, with or without a trust fund. Given the state of the newspaper business these days, it was probably best that Crispin had access to a trust fund.

“Kit Wilder,” the receptionist said brightly.

“Hi, I’m here to see Crispin.” Kit didn’t recognize the young woman so assumed she was a fan of the show. That was pretty much how Kit categorized people. If they were under a certain age and she didn’t know them, then they probably recognized her from television.

“I’ll let him know.” The receptionist picked up the phone and buzzed Crispin’s office. “Your cousin is here.” She hung up the phone and smiled at Kit. “One floor up, down the end of the hall on the right.”

“Thanks.”

“I’m a big fan,” the receptionist gushed as Kit strode toward the stairs.

“Thank you,” Kit called over her shoulder.

Upstairs in the hallway, she passed Myra Beacon, the realtor responsible for the sale of Ernie’s house. Kit recognized her from the picture on her website. Although Beatrice and the entertainment lawyer had handled the transaction, Myra and Kit had plenty of back and forth phone calls leading up to the sale, including Kit’s plea for discretion. She didn’t want the world to know where she lived now.

“Kit, so nice to see you in person,” Myra enthused, pumping her hand.

Kit glanced around the hall, wondering why the realtor was here. “Were you here to see Crispin?”

“Jeannie in advertising,” Myra clarified. “I run weekly listings in the paper.”

Kit didn’t think anyone looked at real estate listings in the newspaper anymore, but what did she know?

“I heard about the dreadful business in your house,” Myra said. “I’m so sorry. Obviously, I knew nothing about that.”

“Of course not.”

“Have you been able to live in the house at all?” Myra asked.

“No, unfortunately I’m back at Greyabbey until I get the thumbs up to move back in.”

“Well, I think most people would consider themselves fortunate to live in a place like Greyabbey,” Myra said wistfully. “I’d pitch a tent in the yard and feel like a million bucks there.”