Read Online Book Club Bloodshed by Brianna Bates - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Brianna Bates
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ahead) so maybe her “safe” way of living wasn’t really that safe at all.
Trudy and her husband, Jason, had been flipping houses for four years now, though, so they must have been doing something right. They had even ventured into the even more speculative pursuit of purchasing undeveloped tracts of land. A particularly attractive parcel had come to their attention and they’d moved in quickly, hoping to snatch it up before too many others had gotten wind.
They didn’t move fast enough. Trudy had mentioned this in passing at one of the Book Clubs during a break to Ellen Stein. It had not been intended for Anne’s ears, but she had been within earshot. But next thing they knew, the seller was balking at the last minute and finally rejected their offer which he’d agreed upon. He sold the land for an undisclosed price to Anne of course. When Trudy confronted her, Anne had pretended to know nothing of her involvement, claiming she had only ever dealt with the seller and didn’t even know there were other buyers interested. Of course, nobody believed her but nobody could prove she’d known.
Now that Missy thought of it, Anne had been bragging about the sale a month ago. She’d subdivided the tract and sold it off in pieces. For once she’d been polite enough not to share the actual profit with the group, but that must have been enough to set Trudy off. She and her husband had probably missed out on a huge opportunity. But was lost profit enough motive?
Missy dropped the pen on the pad and sat back. Dragging the rubber band out of her hair, she refixed her ponytail. Her dark red, wavy hair was in bad need of a cut, full of split ends. A few greys had even poked their heads out, like meerkats on a prairie.
If she’d learned anything, money was always enough motive to kill. A real estate deal gone bad had been the root cause of the last murder she investigated. Of the three then, Trudy was the most likely killer. Anne hadn’t fired Kylie, she’d fired Kylie’s brother who might have been drinking on the job anyway. And yes, Anne had stolen Ellen’s fiancée but that had been a long time ago. It would have been strange for that to come to a head now.
The door opened and Missy looked up, expecting to see Brett returning from lunch. But instead, she saw a man with thinning hair and a mustache (a mustache!) that covered his top lip enter. He was short and thin and wore an overcoat that reminded her of Columbo. He smiled when he saw her, like they were old friends.
For a moment, Missy worried that she did know him but didn’t recognize him. He could have been somebody from high school. Her graduating class had been over four hundred, and by now she’d surely forgotten a few of them.
The short, thin, mustached man walked to the desk and nodded at her. “You Missy?”
“Yes?”
He nodded again, his lower lip jutting out. Missy didn’t understand what emotion he was trying to convey with the expression.
“Yeah, you are.”
She squirmed under his stare. Since he’d entered the store, his eyes hadn’t left her. “And you are?”
His eyes kept elevatoring up and down. God, she hated it when men did that.
“We have a…mutual friend, if you know what I mean.” He rubbed the side of his nose. At first Missy thought he was trying wipe a booger off it, then she realized he was gesturing at her like they shared a secret.
“I actually don’t know what you mean.”
He opened his arms and the overcoat opened also. For one horrifying moment, she worried he wasn’t wearing anything underneath.
With palms out, the man acted hurt. “Hello? Lee Greenberg. You know, Lee?”
It took Missy five seconds to get it. “ You’re the private detective.”
“In the flesh.” He raised his eyebrows several times. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Lee didn’t do you justice.”
He stuck his hand out. Missy didn’t really want to shake. The guy gave off a sleazy vibe. Gravity, or some other force, kept pulling
Trudy and her husband, Jason, had been flipping houses for four years now, though, so they must have been doing something right. They had even ventured into the even more speculative pursuit of purchasing undeveloped tracts of land. A particularly attractive parcel had come to their attention and they’d moved in quickly, hoping to snatch it up before too many others had gotten wind.
They didn’t move fast enough. Trudy had mentioned this in passing at one of the Book Clubs during a break to Ellen Stein. It had not been intended for Anne’s ears, but she had been within earshot. But next thing they knew, the seller was balking at the last minute and finally rejected their offer which he’d agreed upon. He sold the land for an undisclosed price to Anne of course. When Trudy confronted her, Anne had pretended to know nothing of her involvement, claiming she had only ever dealt with the seller and didn’t even know there were other buyers interested. Of course, nobody believed her but nobody could prove she’d known.
Now that Missy thought of it, Anne had been bragging about the sale a month ago. She’d subdivided the tract and sold it off in pieces. For once she’d been polite enough not to share the actual profit with the group, but that must have been enough to set Trudy off. She and her husband had probably missed out on a huge opportunity. But was lost profit enough motive?
Missy dropped the pen on the pad and sat back. Dragging the rubber band out of her hair, she refixed her ponytail. Her dark red, wavy hair was in bad need of a cut, full of split ends. A few greys had even poked their heads out, like meerkats on a prairie.
If she’d learned anything, money was always enough motive to kill. A real estate deal gone bad had been the root cause of the last murder she investigated. Of the three then, Trudy was the most likely killer. Anne hadn’t fired Kylie, she’d fired Kylie’s brother who might have been drinking on the job anyway. And yes, Anne had stolen Ellen’s fiancée but that had been a long time ago. It would have been strange for that to come to a head now.
The door opened and Missy looked up, expecting to see Brett returning from lunch. But instead, she saw a man with thinning hair and a mustache (a mustache!) that covered his top lip enter. He was short and thin and wore an overcoat that reminded her of Columbo. He smiled when he saw her, like they were old friends.
For a moment, Missy worried that she did know him but didn’t recognize him. He could have been somebody from high school. Her graduating class had been over four hundred, and by now she’d surely forgotten a few of them.
The short, thin, mustached man walked to the desk and nodded at her. “You Missy?”
“Yes?”
He nodded again, his lower lip jutting out. Missy didn’t understand what emotion he was trying to convey with the expression.
“Yeah, you are.”
She squirmed under his stare. Since he’d entered the store, his eyes hadn’t left her. “And you are?”
His eyes kept elevatoring up and down. God, she hated it when men did that.
“We have a…mutual friend, if you know what I mean.” He rubbed the side of his nose. At first Missy thought he was trying wipe a booger off it, then she realized he was gesturing at her like they shared a secret.
“I actually don’t know what you mean.”
He opened his arms and the overcoat opened also. For one horrifying moment, she worried he wasn’t wearing anything underneath.
With palms out, the man acted hurt. “Hello? Lee Greenberg. You know, Lee?”
It took Missy five seconds to get it. “ You’re the private detective.”
“In the flesh.” He raised his eyebrows several times. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Lee didn’t do you justice.”
He stuck his hand out. Missy didn’t really want to shake. The guy gave off a sleazy vibe. Gravity, or some other force, kept pulling
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