Murderous Muffins (3 page)

“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.”

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 for 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.” I had to know about the gun. “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.”

“Do you have a problem with that? I have a permit to carry,” he said.

Blushing, I looked away from Xavier. “I apologize, that was none of my business.” Permit or not, I was still concerned 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 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?

And number three—I couldn’t trust myself with men. Apparently I picked them poorly. Ten years ago, Bradley, the cad, up and left me a week before our wedding. Well, it was a little more complicated than that. But in the end, he’d left.

I wasn’t going to let anyone take my heart and bamboozle me again, even someone with dimples and a cute backside. No. He represented money, and I needed that more than I needed a relationship.

Fourth and last, he kind of gave me the creeps. There was something disingenuous about him.

Exiting the kitchen into the backyard, I unlocked the shed and retrieved a sheet of plastic and a small piece of plywood, plus a hammer and nails. Soon I was back in the house and made my way upstairs to fix Cat’s room.

Entering the hallway, I bumped into Xavier locking his room door.

“Let me take this for you.” Xavier took the piece of plywood from me.

“I’m fine.” I dropped the hammer, nearly hitting his foot.

“You missed.” Xavier smirked as he picked up the hammer and handed it back to me. “Want to try again?”

“I didn’t mean to get you.”

“I know; it was a joke.”

My face felt warm as my heart sped up. “I knew that.”

He followed me to Cat’s room.

My temperature rose. As I pulled my hair from my neck, it caught on my necklace. I winced.

Xavier’s eyebrow arched. “You need help?”

“I think I’m caught.” I tugged at my hair.

“I’ll untangle you.” He set down the plywood and then walked behind me. Soon his fingers were on my neck. “Nice pearls.”

Momentarily I closed my eyes as I took in a breath. He smelled like fresh air. I couldn’t read him. He was both nice and unsettling. “They were my great-great-grandmother’s.”

“From the diamond-encrusted clasp and the way the pearls are strung, this looks like a vintage necklace. Absolutely exquisite. A very stunning and expensive heirloom indeed.”

Why did he sound like some cultured aristocrat all of a sudden? I asked, “Do you know a lot about jewelry?”

Xavier chuckled. “Enough to know that this is quite a fine piece.”

“It’s old, but I don’t actually know much more about it.”

“You must have it insured?”

“No.”

“Oh?”

“I mean, it’s not that I ever take it off, other than when I shower. Also, I’ve never gotten it appraised.” An appraisal and insurance cost money, and that was in short supply. A thin bead of perspiration formed on my forehead. Why was I feeling uneasy? Maybe the necklace was worth something. If that were the case, perhaps I should find out. Perhaps selling it would help out with the bills.

“Done. Hair and necklace are separated.” He stepped back and looked at the partially collapsed ceiling and then down at the floor. “Leak?”

It had no less than a hundred leaks, rotted supports, and too many issues to name. “Just a tiny one.”

“Hmm.” Pointing up, Xavier said, “You might have your roofer look into this. There may be damage to that supporting beam there.”

“Uh huh.” A few months ago a contractor had told me the entire roof needed to be torn off and rebuilt, and had to meet the architectural guideline for historic properties, the estimate was over thirty-five thousand dollars.

“Or your handyman.”

He didn’t know he was looking at the handyman—or woman, in my case. “Sure, I’ll let them know. Thanks for your help.”

“Catch you later.” Xavier left the room.

While Cat was away at the Sunshine Market, I spent the next hour doing what I could to make Cat’s bedroom livable. I managed to get the folding leg on the cot to stay up. The ceiling looked pretty well protected with the plastic I put up. I found a small oriental runner to place on top of the plywood over the rotted floorboard. I made the cot with fresh sheets and a nice quilt. I set clean, thick towels in a stack on top. Fluffing up the pillow, I looked around the room. Although not glamorous, I knew it would suffice.

Bless Cat’s heart. She didn’t want to be alone in her house. I couldn’t blame her. I just hoped that she and Andrew were going to be all right. Cat hadn’t been the same since her dad died a few months ago, followed by our friend Lucy’s death. And Annie Mae and Cat had taken it upon themselves to seek justice for her. I was proud of them for their loyalty and tenacity. As for me, I’d stayed out of it. I had enough on my hands. Anyway, they seemed to have the knack for amateur detective work. That was something I never wanted to do.

Looking at the bed where Cat would sleep, I knew that this had to be tough for her. Losing a parent and being away from her family.

Gathering up my tools, I left the room.

As I made my way down the hallway, I noticed a few nails sticking out on a baseboard. Since I already had the hammer, I bent down to fix them.

“Good morning, Miss Bezu.” Lily passed me in the hallway. She had on skimpy faded jean shorts that showed part of her firm round bottom. Her legs were tan and fit, her ample breasts perky under her tight tank top. She twisted her curly, long auburn hair into a ponytail as she walked, calling back to me. “The only thing that gets me up in the morning is the smell of your muffins. If it weren’t for them, I’m afraid I would sleep all day.”

She had told me she worked an evening job in the entertainment industry over the bridge in South Carolina. The Westin conference and convention center was there—and a few gentlemen’s clubs, one named Bare Assets and another Bottoms Up. Although she paid her rent with a stack of small bills, I still hoped she worked at the Westin rather than disrobing for leering men.

Another set of footsteps made me turn around. Behind Lily ambled her weightlifter boyfriend, Frank. He was as wide as he was tall, like a tree stump. He gave me a nod. “Morning.” He paid me extra to stay with Lily, although I wasn’t sure how I felt about him spending the night so much.

“Good morning, Frank. Did you sleep well?” I asked.

Frank narrowed his eyes. “Not with all the singing.”

“Mr. Phong?” I already knew the answer.

“Yeah. He must’ve downloaded a ton of new songs on his iPod last night. He sang for hours and hours on end,” Lily added.

“He’s an annoying little foreign turd.” Frank thudded down the stairs.

Lily made her way to the bottom of the stairs and shouted up to me, “Frank has been such a crab ’cause he hasn’t slept in days. It’s getting bad.”

I pounded a nail in. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Grabbing another nail, I hammered it into a corner section of the baseboard. As the nail went in, the wood split, exposing an army of carpenter ants.

Now I’d need to add getting rid of ants to my lengthy to-do list, a list that always had more items added than crossed off.