The Body in the Attic Read online

  She snorted. “Is that a sneaky way to get me to fry your eggs?”

  His blue eyes went wide. “No, I’m used to cooking for myself.”

  “Then do it. Break the stove in for me.”

  He hesitated again. “I usually make an egg for George, too. Is that all right? I’ll buy some tonight. Do you want one?”

  She waved away his concerns. “I’m going to Grandma’s tonight. She usually gives me eggs from her hens, but if not, I go to the store on Saturday. I’ll buy more.”

  Ansel went to the refrigerator and returned to break eggs into a nonstick skillet. “I hope Emily’s calmed down by now. I don’t want to move. She thinks I should go just because she wants to, but I don’t want to impose on you too long.”

  If she could see him in a towel every morning, Emily could eat dirt. “Stay as long as you want. It’ll help me get used to the house.”

  Just then Jerod stuck his head inside the front door. “Ansel beat me here? I thought I’d be early.”

  “He’s making eggs. Want some?” Jazzi asked.

  “You got toast?”

  “I can make some.”

  Jerod came to join them in the kitchen. “Hey, I didn’t think about the perks of having you move into the house. I could get used to this.”

  “It will only last until we start on our next fixer-upper. You’d better enjoy it while you can.”

  While they ate, Jerod asked, “What did you decide about the upstairs hallway? And what about the basement?”

  “I’m painting the hallway the same cream as the downstairs. I plan to stain the basement floors, but I can do that myself after we get the walls painted. I’m painting those cornmeal yellow to cheer up the space.”

  Jerod nodded. “Ansel and I will leave you to the hallway, and we’ll get started on the cement blocks in the basement. Those should go pretty fast.”

  “We’re about done.” Jazzi rinsed their plates and put them in the dishwasher.

  Jerod shook his head. “We always do landscaping for curb appeal. Just because you bought this place doesn’t mean you have to tackle that alone. You helped me at my house, so start thinking about what you want.”

  She might never disown him as a cousin. She nodded and Jerod raised his eyebrows at Ansel. “Come on, bud. You can tell me why you got here so early while we work.” They headed for the basement steps.

  Jazzi went upstairs and set up her long-handled roller and got busy. It took her till noon, she had to tape so much trim before she could actually paint. But by the time she dragged everything downstairs and out to the hose to clean, the main floors of the house were done.

  She called down to the guys, “I’m making sandwiches if you’re hungry.”

  A formality. Jerod and Ansel were always ready to eat. Since she’d brought everything to the new refrigerator, she added lettuce and sliced tomatoes to their deli meat and served it on long toasted slices of French bread.

  “We’re going to get spoiled,” Jerod proclaimed. “My kids would love this for supper.”

  After lunch, Ansel went outside to call Emily. Jerod gave a low whistle and turned to Jazzi. “Can you believe the little nurse kicked him out?”

  “It’s a smart move,” Jazzi said. “He’ll miss her and won’t want to lose her. It might tip him into thinking California looks good.”

  “Or it might make him wake up and realize she’s a pain in the rear end.”

  “They have to decide on something. They’re running out of time.” Jazzi looked up when Ansel stomped back inside.

  Frowning, he said, “She never picked up.”

  When Emily dug her heels in, she could be one stubborn woman. How far would she go to get her way? Jazzi started down the basement stairs. “Does she work tonight?”

  “No.” Ansel and Jerod followed her.

  “Try her again before supper. She doesn’t cook. Maybe she’ll miss you by then.”

  They finished only two walls by five. The basement was huge, and the cement blocks soaked up paint, so that it took several strokes to cover them.

  Before Jerod left, he said, “We should start thinking about the next place we want to buy and flip. I’ve been looking at new listings, but none of them have gotten me excited. If you see something, let me know.”

  “I’ve been looking, too. Nothing. I’m going to pick up one of the for-sale-by-owner real estate magazines at the store on Saturday.”

  “Good idea. If you drive by a house with a sign, give it a look.” He helped them carry everything outside to clean.

  “We’ll finish up,” Jazzi told him. “No big deal.”

  Ansel and Jazzi cleaned at the hose after Jerod left. Then Ansel tried calling Emily again. She picked up this time, and Jazzi walked away to give him some privacy. When she glanced back at him, though, his face looked like a thundercloud. She assumed it wasn’t going well.

  When he came in the kitchen to have a beer with her, he said, “Emily told me not to come home until I’m ready to move with her.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Let her pack everything herself and see how much fun it is. I’m not going.”

  Jazzi stared. “You’d stay here and lose her?”

  “If it comes to that.”

  Jazzi wasn’t sure he could hold to that, but in case, she said, “You can stay here as long as you want to.”

  “Do you mean that?” Ansel drained his beer. “If Emily leaves without me, would you want a roommate? I’d pay rent, pitch in on groceries.”

  That caught her off guard, but when she thought about it, she liked the idea. “Sure, there’s plenty of room. Then, when you meet someone else, you won’t have a lease to worry about.”

  His blue eyes sparkled. “What if you meet someone before I do?”

  “I’m not looking right now. Maybe later.”

  “But that’s when it always happens.”

  She laughed. “I’m not holding my breath.”

  He took her empty beer bottle and threw it in the recycling can with his. “You know, when I first started working with you, I really wanted to make a move on you, but you were with Chad.”

  She looked at him, surprised. “You never showed any interest.”

  “How tacky would that be? You were living with a guy.”

  “I messed up that choice. We didn’t have much in common.”

  “It takes a while to get to know somebody. I didn’t do so great either. Emily was quiet. I thought she was shy. Boy, was I wrong.”

  Jazzi glanced at the clock. “I promised Grandma I’d come over tonight so she can teach me how to make strudel. Want to come along?”

  “Strudel?” He licked his lips. “I’m in. George loves pastry. Are we grabbing supper on the way?”

  “There’s a barbecue guy who parks his rig in a church parking lot on the way. I told her I’d bring the works.”

  Ansel grinned. “Even better. When do we leave?”

  “In twenty minutes.”

  “I’ll be ready.”

  They both rushed to wash up and change. Ansel was happy letting her drive while George lay on the floor, his head on Ansel’s feet. They pulled into the church parking lot and waited their turn to order. Jazzi got ribs, chicken coleslaw, and baked beans. Ansel added cornbread and smoked potatoes.

  Grandma was waiting for them on her front porch. She beamed when she saw Ansel and George. “It’s about time you came to visit me. A growing boy like you needs good suppers. You need to bring him more often, Jazzi.”

  Jazzi. Since she came with a man, would Grandma quit confusing her with Sarah? “He wants to learn to make strudel, too,” Jazzi said.

  “Good for him! But first, let’s eat.”

  Samantha, her housemate, joined them for supper. Ansel had never met her. She never came to Sunday meals. “I live with
Dorothy,” she explained. “After my husband passed away, it was too hard for me to take care of our farm. I saw the ad in the paper that Dot needed a roommate, and I applied.”

  “The best thing that happened to our family,” Jazzi added.

  Samantha blushed. “I have more eggs for you to take home, Jazzi. The hens having been laying better than usual.”

  “You have chickens?” Ansel glanced out the kitchen windows to the coop with a fenced-in yard. “My parents raised chickens on our farm.”

  The two started talking about which breeds were best for what, and Jazzi’s mind drifted. Ansel had finished off a slab of ribs, and Grandma liked the smoked chicken, but her appetite shrank every year. Jazzi always left Grandma all of the leftovers. When they finished eating, Samantha and Ansel—along with George—wandered off to look at the chickens and a spot in the coop’s roof that worried Samantha.

  Jazzi started cleaning up the kitchen so that she and Grandma could cook, and Grandma gave Jazzi a look. “He’s a nice man, Lynda. You should stay in River Bluffs and raise his baby.”

  Jazzi sighed. That was a new one. She’d never been called Lynda before, but when she thought about it, she and Lynda both had wavy, blond hair and Lynda always had a man with her. “I’m not ready for kids yet, Grandma. I’m having too much fun right now.”

  Grandma frowned. “You’ve already had plenty of fun. You were too young when you gave away the first baby, but you’d better keep this one. Soon, you won’t be able to have any, and Cal’s older than you. You don’t want him using a cane to chase toddlers around.”

  Jazzi stared. “Did you try to talk Lynda out of leaving River Bluffs for New York?”

  Grandma twisted and untwisted her fingers, agitated. “You never did listen to me. And look what happened. Jerod ended up burying your grown son.”

  Jerod’s reputation was suffering more than hers lately. Grandma must have remembered that Jerod was using the backhoe when he found Noah. But Jazzi hated to see Grandma so upset. She went to her and hugged her. “I’m Jazzi, Grandma, and I came to make strudel with you, remember?”

  Grandma blinked. She focused on Jazzi’s face. “Oh, honey, I put all of the ingredients on the sink counter for us to use. Once you watch me, you’ll be able to make it yourself.”

  Ansel came in then with Samantha. Grandma smiled. “Jazzi brought her Viking with her. He wants to learn to bake. Can you imagine?”

  Once Grandma started mixing ingredients and working with dough, the familiarity kept her in the moment. By the time Jazzi and Ansel left, Grandma waved them off and called, “Come again, Jazzi! And bring your young man with you.”

  Time must circle and twist in Grandma’s mind. Jazzi never knew which period of history she lived in moment to moment.

  Jazzi decided to talk to Mom this weekend about taking Grandma to a doctor and seeing if there was anything else they could do to keep her dementia at bay. Gran was one special lady, and Jazzi didn’t want to lose her any sooner than she had to.

  When they got back to the house, Jazzi set the alarm before they both wandered into the living room. Bookcases flanked both sides of the fireplace, and Jazzi decided to put all of her cookbooks on the top right shelf. She wanted to go through a few of them for ideas. Mom wanted a party on Sunday, and Jazzi had only vague ideas for a few things to make.

  “Mind if I watch TV while you look?” Ansel asked.

  Typical male. The Discovery Channel showed some expedition into the jungles of South America while Jazzi flipped through recipes. Her family could plow through a lot of food. She decided on stuffed mushrooms, a crispy potato skin bar with a variety of toppings to choose from, cheddar-ham cups, and chicken wings. She’d serve plenty of roasted shrimp cocktail, too, and a veggie tray. For dessert, she’d make strawberry shortcake cupcakes and fruit pizzas.

  When she read her menu to Ansel, he got excited. “I’ll help you get everything ready. I like it all.”

  She made out her grocery list and then settled in to watch a little more TV with him. Then they both headed upstairs to their separate beds.

  Chapter 28

  Buying a week’s worth of groceries with Ansel proved interesting. She listened to kids begging their moms to add things to their cart and suddenly sympathized with them.

  When he stopped in front of the ice cream freezer, gazing in wonder, she asked, “Who does the shopping for you two, you or Emily?”

  “I do, but I’m only allowed to buy the items on her list. I don’t even let myself look at what else is on the shelves.”

  Allowed? For heaven’s sake! “Even if you pay for your own treats?”

  “Emily says if they’re in the house, they tempt her.”

  Okay, she had a point. “I always buy ice cream, so grab your favorite.”

  It took an hour and a half to make it through the store. Jazzi thought she might never see sunlight again. The groceries filled the backseat of her pickup. When they got home, Ansel helped her carry everything inside and put them away.

  “Can we cook now?” He looked at the ingredients she’d left out that she’d need for the party.

  Before she could answer, the front doorbell rang and she went to answer it. A delivery man handed her a huge bouquet of flowers arranged in a wicker picnic basket, then hurried to return to his van. Frowning, she carried them into the kitchen.

  “Did you send me flowers?” If he had, he’d gone all-out. This bouquet had more flowers than most funeral arrangements.

  “Me? No. Should I have—as a thank-you?”

  “No. Don’t be stupid.” She put them in the center of the dining table and looked at the card.

  “Uh-oh, something’s ticked you off. Don’t throw them at the wall.” Ansel came to read the card, too. “Ah, no wonder you look so mad.”

  Will you have dinner with me tonight? I’m in town. Best Regards, Thomas. His phone number was on the back of the card.

  She shook her head. “Is he serious?”

  Ansel’s blue eyes sparkled. “I told you that you might meet someone before I did.”

  “Thomas Sorrell is a reptile, cold-blooded and icky.”

  “That’s not a nice thing to say about snakes.”

  She couldn’t help but laugh. “He probably had to come to River Bluffs to finish the sale of his business, and his girlfriend won’t put him up at her place after he dumped her.”

  Ansel waved at their surroundings. “I bet he’d love to be invited to spend a night in Cal’s house. It would feel like he was rubbing it in, still able to outmaneuver Cal.”

  “It’s never going to happen.”

  “Are you going to call him back?”

  Jazzi reached for her cell phone. She texted No Thanks, then concentrated on her check list of things to do for the party. She rinsed and poked twenty large potatoes and tossed them in a hot oven. They’d be ready to scoop out for the potato skin bar tomorrow.

  “You can dice and cook the bacon for a topping,” she told Ansel.

  They turned on the hood for the stove, and it was just as quiet as the salesman said it would be. Her kitchen was going to be a dream to work in.

  They were mixing the sugar cookie base for the fruit pizzas when her phone rang. She was scraping down the sides of the bowl, so Ansel answered it for her.

  “Yes?”

  There was a long pause. “I didn’t know Jazzi was seeing someone.”

  “She isn’t . . . yet. We’re still friends. Can I take a message? She’s busy at the moment.”

  “Just tell her that she’s as lovely as her aunt, and I believe she’s probably much nicer. I’d love to get to know her better.”

  “Will do.”

  “My invitation’s still open for dinner.”

  “I’ll let her know.”

  “I’ll try her again later.”

  Ansel smirked as he relayed
Sorrell’s message.

  Jazzi rolled her eyes, and then she frowned. “You know, his invitation worries me a little. He has a huge ego, but what if he asked me out for some other reason?”

  “Like what?” Ansel was pressing the sugar cookie dough into two pizza pans.

  “To keep up on Gaff’s cases with Lynda and Noah? To try to pry information from me? Detectives never report everything. They keep a few secrets to themselves.”

  Ansel started mixing another batch of dough. Jazzi meant to put sliced strawberries and kiwi on two pizzas and blueberries and fresh peach slices on the other two. “I thought you’d crossed Sorrell off your list of possible suspects.”

  “I had, but this makes me wonder. What if he called Lynda and went to visit her after Cal left town, before she went to New York?”

  “What if he did? It would probably be to get the ring back, and she was wearing it when you found the skeleton.”

  True. Sorrell would never lock that ring in a cedar chest and forget about it. “You’re right. He’d have taken it with him if he put Lynda in the trunk.”

  While Jazzi started on the cream cheese and melted white chocolate filling, he began to pat the new dough into two more pizza rounds. He shrugged. “Why would he kill Noah anyway? All he wanted to do was thumb his nose at Cal. He could do that just by meeting Noah and telling him all sorts of stupid gossip.”

  She didn’t have an answer for that either. Finally, she glanced at the flowers and said, “Beats me. And I guess I don’t really care what makes Sorrell tick.”

  “I’m guessing he’d feel like he was upping Cal if he won Lynda’s niece in place of Lynda and got full run of Cal’s house. I think it’s an ego thing.”

  “I can see that. The man’s all about winning.”

  “Are you going to keep the flowers?”

  Sorrell hadn’t scrimped on the bouquet. Daisies, delphiniums, and lilies mingled with pink and yellow roses. “Sure I am. They’re gorgeous. But I’m not meeting Sorrell any place, any time.” She popped the sugar cookie crusts into the oven. They’d have to cool before she applied the spread. Thank goodness the central air pumped out coolness and comfort.