Haunted Renovation Mystery 1 - Flip That Haunted House (14 page)

A brief time later, we pulled into the large
subdivision of luxury homes. I drove a short distance, counting
down the streets, until I found the right one. Long driveways lined
the road, homes set far back from the curb. I made a left on her
street and halfway down spotted the house number. Payne Cooper’s
house or rather, Julia Cooper’s home had an old world look, but was
brand new just like all the other houses. Hers was an expansive
two-story stone and brick.

“Wow. Lacey peered up at the house. Nice
place.”

“You can say that again. You coming in?” I
parked the car in the driveway.

“Those steps look steep. I’ll wait in the
car. If you don’t come in soon, I’ll call the police.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. I’ll be
right back.” I cringed at the sound of my dinged-up car door as I
slid out. The squeak echoed through the neighborhood and I
contemplated removing the darn thing all together.

I marched toward the sidewalk. My sneakers
squeaked along the rain soaked stone walkway. I made my way to the
door, gliding past the extensive landscaping—no shortage of
evergreens in that yard. The doorbell chimed a song I didn’t
recognize as I shifted from foot to foot in front of the door,
waiting for an answer. Fear washed over me. I’d been so intent on
finding the killer, that I’d forgotten Julia Cooper might be the
killer. After all, she called me, I reminded myself. How clever of
her to plan this whole little charade. With that thought, I turned
and started back down the steps.

“Hello?” the raspy female voice called.

I froze, then slowly turned around. Maybe I
should have made a run for it. Mrs. Cooper eyed me from the
doorway. My feet were frozen on the first step and I had a hard
time moving forward. What was I supposed to do?

“Ms. Hargrove?”

I nodded, then sucked in a breath and let it
out slowly. It was now or never.

“Mrs. Cooper?” I asked.

“Yes, come in, please.” She stepped back
from the door to allow me room to enter. I trudged back up the
steps and across the porch as if called to the principal’s office.
She gave a skeptical look as I watched her every move with a
sideways glance. Did she know I was on to her?

“Please, do come in. Welcome to mi casa.”
She urged with the motion of her hand.

I had no choice but enter. I prayed I
wouldn’t meet with my final fate. Not yet, anyway. I had a lot more
life left in me. Heck, I had a house to flip. I’d put up a huge
fight if she tried anything.

“You don’t mind if I call you Alabama, do
you?”

Did I have a choice?

“No, that’s fine.” I eyed her black dress,
which was apparently her mourning outfit. The silk hit just above
her knees and the front came down in a low v-shape showing an ample
amount of enhanced cleavage. The fabric hung to her hourglass
figure. She’d managed to change into her marabou slippers, though.
I saw her dainty four-inch heels aimlessly tossed into the corner
of the room. She pranced away from the door in her furry heels. She
probably envisioned herself an old-time movie star. All she needed
was a long cigarette in one hand and a cocktail in the other.

I rushed through the door and past her,
keeping one eye on her all the while. When I looked around, I was
shocked. The house was gorgeous. I couldn’t imagine what she
possibly wanted to change about it. The rooms were immaculately
decorated. To my left was the living room, it had a beautiful
velvet, cinnamon-colored sofa. As stunning as it was, it wasn’t the
focal point of the room. The gold leaf paper on the ceiling
surrounded by applied moldings took that honor. A warm caramel
color covered the walls.

“Exactly what is it you want to change about
your home, Mrs. Cooper? Everything looks great.”

I looked around the room waiting for her
answer. Then it hit me like a ton of bricks. If her home didn’t
need redecorating, then it was all a farce, she just wanted me
there to kill me. Just like she killed her husband.

“Please, call me Julia.”

My pulse quickened. She made me nervous as
she pranced around the room. She circled me like a shark. “All
right…Julia, your house is beautiful as is.” My voice was
shaky.

I shouldn’t be talking my way out of a job,
but I needed answers. My main reason for being there was to get
clues about who had murdered Payne Cooper. I needed to be strong,
so I forged ahead.

“Yes, it is beautiful,” she said bluntly,
“everything except for Payne’s office. I want it changed
immediately.” She pointed to the space across the foyer.

She walked across the marble floor, her
heels clacking against the floor, and stopped at the threshold. I
hesitated, then inched closer to take a peek.

Interesting. Another gorgeous room—rich and
masculine with opulence.

Was she a grieving widow and this was her
way of dealing with his death? Or, was she thankful he was gone, so
she could use the space for something else? Although, wanting an
extra room wasn’t exactly grounds for murder. I looked around. Like
the rest of the house, it looked perfect to me.

The room had a beamed ceiling. Heavy velvet
muted-red draperies hung with finials against the windows. Green
silk with golden stripes covered French armchairs and a massive
mahogany desk with a buttery-soft brown leather chair rested in the
center of the space. A Persian rug, positioned in the middle of the
floor, drew everything together, making the study warm and
inviting. Whoever decorated the place knew what they were
doing.

“Who decorated your home, Julia?”

I stared in awe.

“My sister. She came especially from
California to do the job. She’s in Europe now, so she can’t make
it. That’s why I’m frantic to get someone to help me.” She eyed me
up and down.

I felt a rush of insecurity. Her eyes judged
me.

“I see.” I shifted me gaze away from her.
“So, what do you want changed about the room?”

“I want it to be a romantic space. An office
just for me, which exudes softness and passion.” She waved her hand
dramatically for emphasis.

Romance? I couldn’t believe my ears. She was
talking about romance and her husband’s body was barely cold. She
had to be guilty. Only killers talked that way, right? My stomach
sank. I wanted to make a mad dash for the door, but instead I tried
to remain calm. I’d press for more answers.

“Julia?” I stared at her overly made-up
face. “I have to ask you this: Are you sure you’re up to
redecorating? I mean, your husband is dead. You must be terribly
distraught? Why don’t you give it some time? You could close the
door off and not think about it for a bit.”

Maybe I could read intentions from her
answer. Although at that moment, her face was stone cold. What had
gotten into me? All of a sudden, I thought I was an amateur sleuth
or something? I had no idea what I was doing. What was I thinking?
I’d tried my hand at private investigating before. One night while
chasing my target, I ran into her car and the jig was up. I knew
two things, though. I had two mysteries on my hands: who killed
Payne and who was the ghost haunting my flipper house? If I didn’t
solve the murder, I’d end up either dead or in jail. If I didn’t
get rid of the ghost, I’d be bankrupt and labeled a failure. Again.
So, sleuthing wasn’t so out of the question, after all. It was
necessary.

“I’m fine,” Julia said snippily. She stared
again, waiting for the answers to her décor dilemma.

Since she hadn’t changed her mind, I
continued. “Well…I think an antique desk and soft robin egg’s blue
on the walls would be lovely.” I paused, waiting for her
thoughts.

She stood ramrod straight and hung on to my
every word. The whole scene creeped me out. Standing in a dead
man’s house, talking to his crazed widow, who may or may not have
killed him, was definitely a part of some bizarro world. I needed
one of those eject buttons to get me out of there.

“Would you like something to drink?” she
asked, not acknowledging my suggestion.

“No, thank you,” I said.

Without another word, she sashayed out of
the room, her blonde curls bounced with every step. I stood there
for a second, unsure of my next move. I took in a deep breath and
turned, following her into the living room. She stood in front of
the bar in the corner of the room, mixing a drink. By drink, I
thought she’d meant a glass of water. Maybe tea or lemonade. Silly
me.

Once the drink was stirred to her
satisfaction, she settled onto the velvety cushions of the sofa,
grasping the glass in her left hand.

“Listen, Alabama, my husband was a dirty
rat.” She took a gulp. “Sure, he was fine before we married, but it
didn’t take long for him to show his true colors.” She studied the
glass, not meeting my gaze. “I caught him in more than one
indiscretion. He’d chase after any little tramp who looked his
way.” She took another gulp.

A motive—now I knew she had one. My feet
fidgeted from side to side. I longed to get the heck out of there.
The front door called my name.

I shuffled from one foot to the next. “I’m
very sorry,” I stammered.

What else could I say? She made me feel very
uncomfortable. “I’ll go measure the room.” I gestured. “If you’ll
excuse me…” I slipped out of the room, thankful for the excuse to
escape.

She slurped her drink as I calculated the
dimensions of the room. My measuring tape couldn’t move fast
enough.

When I finished, I tossed my supplies back
into my purse and said, “Mrs. Cooper, er, Julia…” I waited for her
to down the swig. “I must be going, Julia. I took the measurements
I needed. I’ll get to work on this project right away—I know you’re
in a hurry.”

“Thank you so much, Alabama.” She jumped
up.

“I’ll be in touch soon,” I said.

“Please do try to hurry. I can’t tell you
enough how much I need this done.”

“I will. I promise.” I rushed my words. I’d
have promised almost anything to get out of there.

She trailed me to the front door, finishing
off her olive along the way. I stepped out onto the porch, still
holding my breath. Thank goodness, I made it out alive. Without a
doubt, that was one of the most uncomfortable experiences I’d ever
had. To top it off, if she wasn’t the killer, then I hadn’t learned
a thing to lead me to the real one. Julia had reason to kill her
husband, if what she said was true, but it didn’t seem as if she
wanted me dead. I almost felt sorry for her. Almost.

She waved and I hurried away as if she was
chasing me with an ax. I swallowed, trying to shake off my uneasy
feeling. My skin felt hot and my mouth dry. Sweat beaded on my
forehead.