A Dead End (A Saints & Strangers Cozy Mystery Book 1) (3 page)

“Your neighbor.” The woman nodded to the house on the left on the corner of Keystone and Thornhill Roads.

Kit observed the well-groomed house beside hers. Every tree branch was perfectly straight and every blade of grass evenly cut. It was the home of an extremely tidy person.

“Why? Is she morally opposed to pink carpet?” Kit asked jokingly.

“If it’s on the front lawn, then yes.” The woman didn’t crack a smile. “She complained bitterly about your predecessor and his beloved motor home. Have no doubt that she’ll be filing a complaint if you give her half a reason.”

“Thanks for the warning,” Kit said. “I’m Kit Wilder, by the way.”

“I recognize you. You have your mother’s cheekbones. I’m Phyllis Chilton,” the woman replied. “I live across the street, number fifty-three.”

“Nice to meet you, Phyllis.”

“Find anything good in there?”

“Like what?” Kit asked. “Buried treasure?”

Phyllis snorted. “Doubtful. If Ernie had treasure, it would’ve lasted five minutes before he spent it all.”

“I guess that explains why his house was in foreclosure.”

“The man liked betting on the Eagles more than he liked paying his mortgage.”

“So where did he go?”

“Nobody knows for sure.” Phyllis shrugged. “Can’t say anybody cared either. He wasn’t known for his sparkling personality.”

“Well, I hope I’m an improvement then.”

“There’s your other neighbor now,” Phyllis said, making a cuckoo sign with her finger. “Thora’s a sweet girl. Helluva a green thumb, too. If she gives you any advice about your garden, take it.”

Kit looked toward the house on her right. The sweet girl looked about eighty years old with cropped white hair and stooped shoulders. Thora waved and slowly made her way over to them.

“Well, hello,” Thora said. “I wasn’t sure when we’d actually get to meet you.”

“Sorry, I’ve been busy with school and getting settled. I’m Kit Wilder.”

“I’ve got your bling right here,” Thora said in her gravelly voice and slapped her knee, laughing. “What a show. I loved that hunky co-star of yours. What was his name?”

“Charlie Owen,” Kit said. “He played Jason, my boss and love interest.”

Thora clapped her hands together. “Oh, what was it like, lip-smacking with him? What a dreamboat.”

Kit resisted the urge to tell her that Charlie’s breath regularly smelled of the garlic and onion bagel that he’d wolfed down for breakfast that morning followed by a cup of black coffee. During their brief, real-life fling, Kit had put the kibosh on his garlic bagel habit.

“He was great to work with,” Kit said with a polite smile. Until he wasn’t.

“I wouldn’t leave this carpet here if I were you,” Thora said.

“Yes, Phyllis mentioned the wrath of Peregrine.”

Thora and Phyllis exchanged wary glances. “Don’t get off on the wrong foot with her,” Phyllis warned. “She’s not an easy person to live next door to at the best of times.”

Kit stared at the tangle of carpet at her feet and sighed. She didn’t want to annoy her neighbor on day one. Politeness dictated that she should wait a month at least.

“Great. So who do I need to call to get rid of this mess?”

“I cannot believe Kit Wilder is about to sand her own floors,” Jordan said, his angular face filling Kit’s iPhone screen. Jordan hadn’t believed that Kit was actually doing the work herself and had demanded a visual.

“Please don’t report it to the tabloids,” Kit warned. “Not even for fun.” She could envision the headlines now — Desperate Actress Takes Job in Construction to Make Ends Meet.

“You’re overthinking this, Kit Kat,” Jordan advised. “People love to see celebs get their hands dirty. It makes you seem relatable. Go ahead and give your fans a good HGTV moment.”

Kit surveyed the lighting in the room. With the natural sunlight streaming in through the open windows, the room did have an appealing glow.

“Okay, I’ll do it,” she agreed. “We both know it won’t be the most unflattering photo ever posted of me.”

She was referring to the slew of paparazzi pictures over the years that depicted her in various unattractive guises such as leaving the gym dripping with sweat, on a morning coffee run with her hair unbrushed, and her favorite one — chewing food in a restaurant.

“You should wear the gift I sent you,” Jordan advised. “It’ll come in handy when the dust starts flying.”

“Your gift,” she echoed, remembering the package that had been waiting for her. “What’s in the box, Jordan?” Now her suspicion was aroused.

“I may have swiped a few items from the set for you,” he said with a casual air. “You deserve a few keepsakes.”

Kit walked over to the mantle and opened the lid.

“Oh Jordan, you shouldn’t have.” She pulled a roll of yellow crime scene tape from the box.

“I thought you might want to decorate with it,” he said. “Or bring it with you to your mother’s house in case WASP-y tensions run high.”

“When tensions run high, we reach for the decanter, not the kitchen knife.” She set aside the tape and peered back into the box. “No way, you did not steal this for me.”

“Am I your best friend or what?”

Kit removed a gas mask that she’d worn in season two of
Fool’s Gold
. She pulled the mask over her head and held up the phone.

“Luke, I am your father,” she breathed heavily, doing her best Darth Vader impression. She turned the phone around and snapped her photo before turning back to Jordan.

“Emmy nominee Kit Wilder, ladies and gentleman,” he said in his best announcer voice. “Post it now so I can leave a snarky comment.”

Kit swiped her way to Instagram and posted the photo with the caption — ‘A new role as a Dalek or DIY in my new house. You decide.’

Kit removed the mask and placed it back in the box. “Thanks, Jordan. I think I will wear it during the sanding process.” She took a good look at the oak floorboards. It was going to be a tough job, but she knew the floors would be beautiful when they were finished. She liked the idea of restoring the room to its former glory. As far as Kit was concerned, Ernie Ludwig didn’t give the house the respect it deserved.

“Edit the Dalek part. Most of your followers won’t get the reference,” he told her.

“Dr. Who is iconic,” she insisted.

“To you and me, maybe. Not to the masses.”

“Am I supposed to fill the gaps before or after I sand?” Kit asked, spying a crack between boards.

“Um, definitely the kind of thing you should know before you start,” Jordan pointed out. “How big is the gap? If it’s not big enough to lose a foot in, you might want to leave it. Gaps in the floorboards add character.”

Kit crossed the room to inspect the flooring. “I don’t think I want to leave this one. It ruins the look.” She crouched down and held the phone so that Jordan could see.

“I see what you mean,” he said. “It actually looks like somebody pulled it up but didn’t put it back properly.” He clapped his hands giddily. “You should take a peek. Maybe someone hid money there. People did that in days of yore.”

“I don’t think last century qualifies as days of yore.” Either way, Kit doubted that Ernie hid any money there. From what the neighbors said, he didn’t have any money to hide.

“No, those were the days of yawn, except the Eighties. That decade is epic.”

“Hold on a sec,” Kit said. “Let me grab my hammer.”

Jordan laughed. “I love hearing you utter statements like that. It’s surreal.”

Kit stuck out her tongue before retrieving the hammer from the nearby toolbox. She used the curved end to pull up the crooked floorboard.

“Wow, brute strength,” Jordan remarked. “You’ve still got it, babe.”

“I’m going to hang up on you,” Kit threatened.

“And ruin the suspense? I’ll be good. I promise.”

Kit eased the board from its secure position so as not to damage it further. “What on earth…” She peered down at the disturbing contents.

“Is it gold?” Jordan asked eagerly. “
Fool’s Gold
,” he added, chuckling to himself.

“Definitely not gold of any kind,” Kit replied, holding the phone over the opening. Jordan’s shriek of terror pierced her eardrum.

“Great Mother of Pearl,” Jordan gasped. “Please tell me it’s a chew toy for a Rhodesian Ridgeback.”

Kit stared at the well-preserved bones. “If only.” She’d need to pull up more floorboards to uncover the rest of the skeleton. She placed the phone next to her knee and picked up the hammer. As she began to pop off another floorboard, she heard Jordan cry out.

“What are you doing?” he yelled. “Don’t tamper with evidence. Call the police.”

“I just want to make sure it is what I think it is,” Kit explained. She didn’t want to be the laughingstock of her new neighborhood if she was mistaken. She’d been humiliated enough for one lifetime.

“You’re not going to touch it, are you?”

“When did you become such a baby?” Kit asked. “We touched weird things on set all the time.”

“Fake things,” Jordan clarified. “Not actual human remains.”

Kit bit her lip. “I guess four years in television desensitized me.” She studied the bones for a moment. “I’ll call you back when I’m done.” Before he could object, she tapped the phone and his face disappeared.

Kit methodically removed each floorboard until the entire skeleton was visible. Yep, definitely human and, amazingly, all in one piece. Someone went to a lot of trouble to hide it. She noticed that the chest wall was concave, as though something heavy had been forced into it or pressed on top of it but didn’t actually break the bones. Unless there were hairline fractures she couldn’t see. Whatever caused this type of damage was probably the murder weapon. She was fairly certain one of the neighbors would have noticed a battering ram making its way through the neighborhood, though. Kit’s thoughts shifted to the neighbors. They certainly didn’t have anything nice to say about Ernie Ludwig. Disliked, debt-ridden Ernie Ludwig who disappeared without a trace. Kit stared at the skeleton.

“Ernie?” she whispered.

Jordan was right. It was time to call the Westdale police.

Rich Riley, Westdale’s chief of police, stood in Kit’s living room flanked by two police officers as they examined the skeleton. The two young police officers seemed more excited by Kit’s presence than the presence of a murder victim.

“Do you remember that episode where you went undercover as the clown?” the shorter officer asked.

“It’s hard not to remember all the episodes when you’re actually in them,” Kit said. “What’s your name again?”

“Lucas. Officer Harley.” He straightened and puffed out his puny chest.

“Brian Jamison,” the redheaded officer added, not to be left out of the introduction.

Kit glanced at the chief. Was it Take Your Sons to Work Day? Even to someone as young as Kit, these two didn’t seem old enough — or smart enough — to be crime fighters.

“Boys, let’s focus on the task at hand,” Chief Riley said, snapping his fingers impatiently.

Reluctantly, the officers tore their attention away from Kit.

“I hate to tell you this since you just moved in,” Chief Riley said to Kit, “but your living room is now a crime scene.”

Kit’s shoulders slumped. “Can I stay in my house if I stay out of the living room?”

“Let’s wait and see what the detective says,” Chief Riley replied. “He’s on his way now.”

Kit hoped that they allowed her to stay in the house. The last thing she wanted was a reason to return to Greyabbey. She didn’t want to see her mother’s smug expression.

“If you have somewhere to be, you’re welcome to leave while we work,” the chief said.

“I had a date with a floor sander,” Kit said. “I guess that’s cancelled.” She glanced longingly at the equipment on the far side of the room.

“Jamison, where’s the crime scene tape?” Chief Riley boomed. “We need to seal off the area.”

Kit saw the fear in Officer Jamison’s eyes and realized that he didn’t bring the tape. She jogged over to the mantle where she’d left the present from Jordan.

“Here it is,” she said brightly and handed the roll to Jamison.

His confusion was evident but he accepted the tape without question. “I’m on it, Chief.”

“This must be pretty interesting if the Chief was unchained from his desk,” a deep voice said.

Kit turned to see a tall, olive-skinned man in a light gray suit step into the living room. His hair was dark and wavy, the kind that begged a girl to run her fingers through it.

“Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou,” Officer Harley said.

“Gee, I never heard that one before,” Mr. Tall, Dark and Handsome replied.

“Detective Moretti.” Chief Riley greeted him with a firm handshake.

“I knew it was serious when you called,” Detective Moretti said, eyeing the skeleton.

“Romeo, do you know who this is?” Harley asked, gesturing to Kit.

“The unsuspecting homeowner?” Romeo ventured.

“Besides that,” Jamison chimed in.

Romeo gave Kit a cursory glance. “No, should I?”

“
Fool’s Gold
,” Harley prompted. “Detective Ellie Gold. I got your bling right here.” Kit recognized a diehard fan when she heard one. He mimicked Kit’s delivery perfectly.

Romeo’s mouth quirked. “Sounds like an interesting show.”

“Interesting?” Harley scoffed. “It was required viewing in our house. We don’t watch it anymore.”

“I don’t watch TV period,” Romeo said.

“I told you he’s a weirdo,” Harley told Jamison. “He probably only watches Rocky DVDs.” He turned to Kit. “We were supremely pissed when you got killed off, by the way. I even signed the petition to bring you back.”

Kit managed a smile. “Thanks.”

“Why’d they kill you off?” Romeo asked, seemingly intrigued. “Salary dispute?”

“More like a personality dispute,” she replied vaguely.

Romeo suppressed a grin.

“Could I interrupt this breaking entertainment news and get back to our murder victim?” Chief Riley said. “I think it goes without saying that Ernie Ludwig needs our attention more than Miss Wilder does.”

“That’s the name of our vic?” Romeo asked.

“He’s the former owner of this house,” Harley said. “He disappeared last year and the house went into foreclosure. I guess the bank didn’t empty the house completely after all.”