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  I heaved a sigh of relief. “What’s happened to the plumbing? I thought you were remodeling?”

  “I am, but . . . a pipe broke, and my apartment flooded, and, well, it’s a real mess.”

  “I’m so sorry, dear. How bad was the flood damage?”

  He spent the next five minutes sharing. It sounded horrible, and practically everything he owned was ruined. The flood happened overnight, while he was away, and wasn’t discovered until the water leaked down and was coming through the ceiling of his downstairs neighbor. So, he now had mold damage to contend with. “The insurance will cover the damage, but . . . the drywall will need to be replaced.”

  “Oh, honey. That’s awful. What can I do to help?”

  “I was hoping you’d ask.” I could hear the smile in his voice. “Any chance I could rent your spare room for a couple of weeks?”

  “Of course, you’re always welcome, and you know it. I’d love for you to come.” Now I was smiling. “I’m sure Madison will be happy to see you too.”

  “I’ll be excited to see her as well, although she may not have much time for me now that she’s a TBI hacker and working crime scenes. Which reminds me, what the heck is happening? Did I understand that someone was murdered at your dog show?”

  Thanks to the speed of twenty-first-century technology, David had already heard about Naomi Keller’s murder. I filled him in on the few bits and pieces of information I knew, which really wasn’t much. However, I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something I knew but had forgotten. No matter how I tried, I couldn’t remember what it was, but experience taught me that if I stopped trying to force myself to remember, it would resurface.

  David had apparently been confident that he would be welcome and had booked a flight into Chattanooga for tomorrow. I wrote down his flight information and promised I’d be there to pick him up. We chatted a bit longer, but then I got another call.

  “It must be my lucky day. Stephanie’s calling.”

  David and I ended our call, and I switched over to talk to my daughter.

  “I just got off the phone with your brother. Is it my birthday? Mother’s Day? Or am I just one lucky woman?”

  Stephanie chuckled. “I hope you didn’t get off the phone with David because of me.”

  I reassured her that we had finished our conversation and that I was looking forward to seeing him the next day, so it was no problem.

  “Oh, I didn’t realize David was coming down to Chattanooga,” she said slowly.

  “Why would that be a problem?”

  “No problem. I have to go to Nashville for a conference, and I was thinking maybe I could mix business with pleasure and—”

  “Yes! I have two spare bedrooms, and I’d love to have both of my children here for a visit.”

  She laughed. “Are you sure? I’d need to bring Lucky and—”

  “You know I love Lucky. I can even keep him while you’re at your conference, so you won’t have to leave him in your hotel room while you’re there.”

  “I was going to ask if you’d mind.”

  “Of course not. I love Lucky, and I know Aggie and Rex will be excited to see him too.”

  We chatted for a few more minutes, and I got the dates of her conference and the days that she’d be in town.

  When I hung up, I couldn’t help but smile at the thought of having both my children here to visit at the same time. Then I got down to practical measures and took inventory to make sure that everything was ready. This house wasn’t large, but there was plenty of room for three adults and three dogs. Lucky was bigger than Aggie and Rex, and wouldn’t fit in their crates, but he was so well behaved, he wouldn’t need to be crated during the day. However, I would pick up a new Golden Retriever–sized dog bed the next time I went to the pet store.

  When Red arrived later, he found me cleaning and making sure there were fresh linens available.

  “Expecting company?” He glanced around the guest room.

  Whenever a guest left, I immediately cleaned the room, put fresh linens on the beds, and made sure it was ready for my next guest. I then closed the door so the dogs wouldn’t mess up my clean guest rooms. So, the fact that the guest-room doors were both open was likely the first giveaway that company was expected.

  I smiled. “David and Stephanie are coming at the same time. I’m super excited.” I dusted the nightstands and headboards and made sure the room was perfect.

  He yawned and stretched. “I can tell.”

  “I’m sorry. You must be exhausted. Are you hungry?”

  He sniffed. “I wasn’t until I smelled whatever you’ve got cooking in that crockpot in the kitchen.”

  “I put a roast in this morning. I planned to make French dip sandwiches.” I glanced at my watch. “They should be ready soon. I was going to make some potato salad to go with them, but . . .” I looked down at the vacuum cleaner and duster. “I got distracted.”

  “I can make the potato salad. You finish what you’re doing.”

  My former military TBI officer loved to cook. He said it helped eliminate stress. Whatever it did for him, I was more than happy to enjoy the benefits. Although my clothes were getting a little snug since I’d started dating him. As a member of law enforcement, he had a rigid schedule that required a certain level of physical fitness. As an accountant, I didn’t have the same requirements. However, running after Aggie and Rex was definitely increasing my activity level. Plus, once they had the basics of obedience down, I planned to start training for canine agility. From what I’d seen on television, it looked like running around an obstacle course was going to provide a lot of exercise for all of us.

  I finished dusting the rooms and made sure both guest rooms were ready. By the time I was satisfied with the results, I heard Red removing plates from the cabinet and knew dinner was ready. When I went into the kitchen, he had just plated our meals.

  “Perfect timing,” he said and handed me a plate with a beautifully toasted bun with cheese and mushrooms and a small ramekin with a delicious au jus.

  It was still sunny, so we decided to eat outside on the back deck, which allowed the dogs to play while we enjoyed our meals.

  My single-story house was in a neighborhood that my realtor, Monica Jill, called transitional, but I’d call it eclectic. Before choosing my house, I viewed one of the other homes that was for sale in this neighborhood. If I had to hazard a guess, I’d say the houses were probably considered luxurious back in the 1980s when they were built. Unfortunately, neither of them had been updated for the twenty-first century and were woefully outdated. On the plus side, they both had great bones. The house next door had the most hideous carpeting I’d ever seen, but I’m sure it had been all the rage when it was purchased, along with the atrium windows and outdoor carpeting that covered the patio. I’d chosen the house with great windows and light that had undergone a sprucing up sometime in the past forty years and, while still in need of updates, was livable.

  “Penny for your thoughts.”

  “You would be wasting your money.” I shook my head to clear it of house renovations. “I’m sorry, dear. I was thinking about the house and wondering if I will ever be able to afford to renovate it the way I want to. Or even if I should.”

  “Why not?” He reached across and squeezed my hand. “Not having buyer’s remorse already, are you? When do you close?”

  “Six more days.”

  When I’d found this house, I had every intention of buying it, but when my bank ran my credit, they discovered that, despite the fact that he was dead, my late husband was purchasing houses and cars and taking out loans that had damaged any credit he might need in the afterlife, and it had caused harm to my own ability to purchase. Thankfully, the seller was willing to let me rent the house while my daughter, Stephanie, put all of her talent as a lawyer to work and not only located the identity thi
ef but had him prosecuted.

  “I’m excited to have a house of my own, but I don’t know if I’ll price myself out of the resale market if I put too much money into the renovations.”

  “I’m pretty handy, and I’d be willing to help with the renovations to help keep the cost down.”

  “Thank you, but you’re a busy man, and I don’t want to test your patience or the strength of our relationship with a major renovation project.” I laughed. “Not yet, anyway.”

  “Speaking of testing our relationship.” He cleared his throat. “I’ve been trying to ask you something all day. I suppose now is as good a time as any.”

  “Okaaay . . . fire away.”

  He took a deep breath. “I was wondering . . . we’ve been dating for several months now, and you know that I care about you very deeply . . .”

  “I care about you too.”

  He inhaled deeply. “I wanted to ask you . . . I mean . . .”

  “Red, just ask me whatever it is you want to ask.”

  He nodded, took a deep breath, and blurted out, “Would you be willing to meet my family?”

  “I’d love to meet your family.” I leaned across the table and kissed him. “See, that wasn’t so hard.”

  “All of them?”

  I stopped with my sandwich midway to my mouth. “When you say all . . . you mean . . .”

  He nodded. “My mom and all of my sisters and their husbands and kids and, well, all of them.”

  “All five of your sisters?”

  “I’ve pushed my mom off as long as I can, and now she’s gotten my sisters involved. Last night, they held an intervention.”

  “An intervention? To meet me?”

  He nodded. “They ganged up on me. My mom started talking about how she didn’t have much time left and how before she went to meet her maker, she wanted to see her baby was going to be taken care of.” He colored. “I mean, you would have thought she had one foot in the grave and that I was still in diapers.”

  I tried to hold it in but couldn’t and burst out laughing. Eventually, Red joined me. When we finally stopped, I leaned back in my chair. “Since I’m going to be closing on the house and David and Stephanie are coming, what if I invited your family here. Monica Jill suggested we have a housewarming party, but what if we had a barbecue?”

  He glanced around at the yard. “I think that would be great. This yard is amazing, and it could definitely hold a lot of people.” He gave me a very serious look. “Are you sure?”

  “Of course, I’m sure. I can invite my friends from the dog club and maybe even a few folks from the museum.”

  We spent the next hour talking through the plans for a housewarming party. Red wrote down the to-do items, while I wrote down the details of the party plans. By the time he left, we had several pages of notes on things we needed to complete. Despite the butterflies in my stomach about the thought of meeting Red’s family, I was excited. I’d had a few other gatherings since moving to Chattanooga, but this would be the official This-House-Belongs-To-Me party. We set a date for the next Saturday.

  When Red and Steve Austin left, I walked around the house and took inventory. The bedrooms would, of course, be off-limits. The living room, dining room, and kitchen would need a few small touches, but nothing major. If the weather was good, most people would spend their time in the backyard.

  Red was right. The backyard was the property’s main attraction. One of the main reasons I’d bought the house was because of the private yard, with its huge, multi-tiered deck, which the previous owner had built around the tall mature trees that dotted the property. I was sure I could rent some extra tables and chairs, and there would be plenty of room for even Red’s large family.

  I sent text messages to Dixie, Monica Jill, and Stephanie, and they were all eager to help with the preparations. Red must have called his mother from the car because he sent a text message saying that his mother had accepted the invitation before he had time to get home. I forced myself not to get nervous. It was just a housewarming. I’d be surrounded by friends and family and people who cared about me. We’d have food and drinks and a good time. I lay in bed and tossed and turned and tried to relax. I glanced over at Aggie. “What could possibly go wrong?”

  Chapter 7

  On Sunday morning, I got up and went to an early church service. Even on days when I wasn’t scrambling to cram five million things into a twenty-four-hour period, I preferred the early services. They weren’t nearly as crowded as the mid-morning ones. I also found that I got a lot more accomplished when the service was over. When I was young, my grandmother used to say going to the earliest service was putting God first, and if I did that, He would help me with the rest of my day. As I’ve gotten older, I suspect that it’s because the eleven a.m. service cuts into the day. Regardless of the reason, it worked. By noon, I had gone to church, visited the grocery store, eaten breakfast, and gotten dinner started in my slow cooker before I headed out to the airport to pick up David.

  My youngest, David, was in his early twenties, slender, with curly dark hair. He walked out of the airport, and I quickly pulled over to the curb and popped the back hatch of my SUV, waving frantically to get his attention.

  He spotted me and hurried over, tossed in his backpack, and pressed the button that lowered the door. He gave me a hug. “Mom, it’s great to see you. Thanks for letting me crash.”

  I stood slightly confused. “I know with all of your traveling you’ve learned to pack light, but surely you have more luggage than that?”

  He shook his head. “Most of my clothes were ruined by the flood.”

  Airport security circled, and we hurried to get in the car.

  I pulled away from the curb. “You’re taking the loss of your clothes pretty well.”

  He shrugged. “Thankfully, it’s covered by insurance. Madison’s going to help me replenish my wardrobe, so . . . I’m going to look at it as a ‘shoppertunity.’”

  David proclaimed himself to be on the verge of starvation, so I stopped at a local restaurant before going home.

  Once settled at the restaurant, we placed our orders, and I got updated on his performances and upcoming plans. For most of his life, David had longed for a career on the stage. Despite the pressure applied by my late husband to convince him to go into a “reasonable” career, he followed his heart and pursued his dream. Against the odds, he’d found success and was doing extremely well. As I listened to him talk about commercials, small parts on television programs, and his current successful show, I was filled with pride and a bit of sadness. I was, of course, thankful that he was doing well. However, I also knew that David’s success meant he would never be content to live anywhere outside of a bustling metropolis like New York or Los Angeles.

  Our food arrived, and we made short work of it. David asked about the open house. He liked Red, but he knew I was nervous about meeting his large family. I was grateful he and Stephanie would both be there for moral support.

  “What’s this I hear about a murder at your dog club?”

  I quickly told him about Naomi Keller’s murder.

  “So, are you going to get out your deerstalker and tackle another mystery?”

  I shook my head. “Absolutely not.”

  “Why not? You’ve solved several murders, and I’m sure Red would appreciate the help.”

  “I’m sure Red would prefer if I didn’t get involved and left sleuthing to the professionals.”

  He chuckled. “That never stopped you before.”

  I thought about that. “This is different. I didn’t know Naomi Keller, and I didn’t like what little I did know. Besides, I have my hands full with preparing to close on my house, planning a housewarming party, getting ready to compete in my first obedience trial, and meeting my boyfriend’s family.”

  David sipped his sweet tea and smiled.

 
“What?”

  “Nothing. All of that is true, but . . .”

  “But what?”

  “But I know my mom, and I don’t think you will be able to leave a mystery unsolved.”

  “Under normal circumstances, I’d agree with you.”

  “What’s so abnormal about these circumstances? Apart from Dad, you didn’t know most of the other people who were murdered.”

  “No, but in those cases, the police were concentrated on either me or someone I care about.” I shook myself to ward off the heaviness that had descended over me like a cloak. “This time’s different. All of my friends are above suspicion.” I glanced up at David, and my motherly instincts kicked in. “Wait, what have you heard?”

  David did a masterful job of avoiding eye contact, but I waited. If nothing else, I knew my son wouldn’t be able to allow the silence to lag. Eventually, he began cracking his knuckles and tapping his fingers on the table, a sure sign he was nervous. “Nothing.”

  I stared at him and allowed the silence to drag on.

  When the silence was too much, he caved. He leaned forward and whispered as though he were about to pass along confidential government secrets. “Okay, but I was sworn to secrecy, and if Madison knows I told, then . . . she won’t trust me.”

  I reached across and patted his hand. “I’m your mother. Anything you tell me is safe.”

  He took a deep breath. “I don’t think Red is included in this, but she said Aunt Dixie was one of the top suspects.”

  “Dixie? You have got to be kidding me. Dixie would never hurt anyone.”

  He flapped his hands to shush me and looked around. I assumed he was checking to see if any TBI officers just happened to be sitting nearby and were monitoring our conversation.

  “Dixie is the kindest, nicest, most peace-loving person,” I said. “Okay, so she might have decked Naomi Keller, but that woman totally deserved it. She actually hurt Chyna.” I huffed and tried to collect my thoughts. “And she might have threatened to strangle her . . .” I put my head in my hands. “Oh, God.”