Death Loves a Messy Desk

Table of Contents

 

 

PRAISE FOR

The Cluttered Corpse

“Amusing . . . Enjoyable.”—
The Mystery Reader

 

“We all should have a Charlotte Adams in our lives.”

—
ReviewingTheEvidence.com

 

“Talented author Mary Jane Maffini has crafted a clever and fun tale . . . Red herrings and surprises await the reader [and] complexities of the plot make for a worthwhile read . . . Enjoy. I did.”—
The New Mystery Reader

 

“Charlotte is feisty, funny, and determined to help people, whether it’s organizing their mud room or clearing them of a murder charge . . . Delightful.”—
I Love A Mystery

 

“A sense of humor and Charlotte’s misadventures enliven the narrative.”—
Gumshoe Reviews

 

 

 

 

Organize Your Corpses

“A comedic, murderous romp . . . Maffini is a relaxed, accomplished, and wickedly funny writer.”

—
The Montreal Gazette

 

“Mary Jane Maffini provides a first-rate, well-organized whodunit . . . A new series that is fun to read.”

—
Midwest Book Review

 

“A fast-moving story.”—
Contra Costa Times

 

“Maffini’s new series . . . is off to a brilliant start with this fast-paced mystery.”—
Romantic Times

ORGANIZE YOUR CORPSES
THE CLUTTERED CORPSE
DEATH LOVES A MESSY DESK

THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP
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Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

 

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

 

DEATH LOVES A MESSY DESK

 

A Berkley Prime Crime Book / published by arrangement with the author

 

PRINTING HISTORY

Berkley Prime Crime mass-market edition / May 2009

Copyright © 2009 by Mary Jane Maffini.

 

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

For information, address: The Berkley Publishing Group, a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.

 

eISBN : 978-1-101-05058-3

 

BERKLEY® PRIME CRIME

Berkley Prime Crime Books are published by The Berkley Publishing Group, a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.

BERKLEY® PRIME CRIME and the PRIME CRIME logo are trademarks of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

 

 

 

I am grateful to the many people who contributed time, expertise, and moral support in the writing of this book. As always I appreciate the warm friendship and insight ful comments of Lyn Hamilton and Mary MacKay-Smith. Victoria Maffini once again brought her unique sense of humor as well as advice on this project. Christopher My ers of Troy, New York, continued to be a gold mine of information and I continue to be grateful. Thanks also to Geoff Zeiss and Howard Gervais for elusive technical details and speedy response, and to Stephan Dirnberger for his usual cheerful assistance.

 

My long-suffering husband, Giulio, ensures that I have a happy environment for the making of mysteries and the princess dachshunds, Daisy and Lily, provide ideas every time they emerge from their blankies. I owe a great debt to the community of professional organizers who do so much to help clients triumph over clutter and bring order to their lives. Special thanks are due to my friend Helen Gilman of Organize-U, as well as to Con nie Faith Shanti of the National Association of Professional Organizers, San Francisco Bay Area Chapter, and her colleagues Debra Baida, Margaret Luckens, Danelle McDermott, and Lisa Mark for fabulous background information, delivered with style and humor.

 

Thomas Colgan and Niti Bagchi of Berkley Prime Crime are always upbeat, helpful, and unflappable. I’d be lost without them. Thanks to production editor Stacy Edwards and copyeditor Amy Schneider for their diligence and eagle eyes. Naturally, all errors are my own.

As the flash went off in my face, I yelped and dove for cover. Even before I landed chin first on the grassy lawn of Memorial Park, I knew it was yet another mistake in a long month of negatives.

A worried-looking woman bent over me as I raised my head. A digital camera dangled from a strap on her wrist. “Are you all right? I was just taking pictures of the fair. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Truffle and Sweet Marie, my miniature wiener dogs, compounded the problem by leaping at her, teeth bared. I hooked my fingers into their tiny jeweled collars, gathered them in my arms, and scrambled to my feet. She backed away at high speed.

With a dog tucked under each arm, probably not the most normal look in the world, I did my best to reassure her. “The flash startled me, that’s all.”

“Totally my fault. I should have checked with you first before snapping your picture.” She stopped, gasped, and moved closer. “Oh! Aren’t you Charlotte Adams?”

Oh crap.

“No wonder you’re so jumpy! After all that happened to you. And are these Truffle and Sweet Marie? They’re adorable.”

“You know them?” I said, holding tight as Truffle made a less-than-adorable lunge toward her.

“Know them? Everybody in the county knows them.”

“Watch your hand,” I said. “They’re a bit overprotective.”

“They’re little heroes. How about a treat, cuties?” Unless I was wrong, she was offering the homemade brown sugar oatmeal cookies that were being sold at the baking stand.

“Oh, I don’t think—” The snap of tiny jaws cut that short. Of course, they can be bought off with special treats because they’ve been spoiled rotten after all the attention that’s been showered on them. That was the reason I was spending my Sunday afternoon at Woodbridge’s Second Annual Volunteer Awareness Fair. When September stole into Woodbridge, I still felt the effects of too much murder, too close to home. I found myself shrieking and spinning at sudden noises. An unexpected plate of baked goods could reduce me to a puddle on the floor. As my throbbing grass-stained knees showed, I was a mess. And I hate anything messy.

The dogs wolfed two cookies each before I escaped to check out the booths set up in my favorite uptown park, near the Old Dutch Church. As a way of enticing people, the Central Volunteer Committee was dishing out ice cream cones. Dogs were welcome, kids were squealing, and even the faint wail of sirens in the distance didn’t bother me.

“Thanks for coming,” said the huge grinning man wearing a baseball cap with the Central Volunteer Committee logo. He handed me an ice cream. “Woodbridge needs you!”

That was good news because I needed to spend some time with people who had worse things to deal with than being afraid. And Truffle and Sweet Marie needed to get over themselves.

I savored the double-chocolate cone as I trotted along the path, stopping at each booth. Truffle and Sweet Marie sniffed toes. I had already picked up brochures and information from the Restoration Committee for the Water-front, the Friendly Visitors of Woodbridge, and Habitat for Humanity when I spotted the perfect solution.

Woodbridge League of Therapy Dogs.