A Southern Relics Cozy Collection: Paranormal Cozy Mysteries Books 1-3 (A Southern Relics Cozy Mysteries Boxset) by Bella Falls

Author:Bella Falls [Falls, Bella]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Evermore Press
Published: 2020-11-14T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

My fist banged on the door to Gloria’s place again. She hadn’t answered the other twenty or so times I’d knocked, but I didn’t know what else to do while waiting for her brother to meet me in her driveway. I considered messaging our mutual friends, but until I got a chance to talk to her in person, I thought it best to keep my gnawing fears to myself.

Wesley’s car squealed around the corner, blowing through the stop sign. He pulled in right next to my truck and killed the engine, jumping out to join me. “Is she answering?” he asked, breathless and ashen.

“I figure she’d let me in if she was home. Since I can’t get into the house, I can’t see if her car’s in the garage. I didn’t know what else to do.” I caught the neighbor across the street watching us. “Don’t suppose you have a key to get us inside so Gladys Kravitz over there doesn’t call the police on us?”

Wesley hopped down from the small brick patio by the door. “No, but I know where she hides the spare.” He picked up a rock and brought it to his lips. “Hello, friend.” After the sound of a slight click, he dumped a key out into his palm.

“Was that a Lord of the Rings reference?” I asked. “Why didn’t you say the word in Elvish?”

He scrambled back up on the porch. “Because Glo and I loved those books growing up, and the movies were awesome. But I think learning a fictional language might have taken our fandom one step too far.” With a turn of the spare key, he entered her small house. “Glo! Where are you?” he yelled out, tossing the key into a bowl sitting on the decorative table next to the door.

In all my years since I’d been friends with Gloria, I’d never known her to tolerate a whole lot of chaos. She’d rearrange her side of the tiki bar at least once a night to keep it tidy and efficient despite sometimes encroaching into my space. For the most part, I didn’t care about her tidying tendencies. Seeing the state of her home ramped up my concern to another level.

Some crumpled tissues, a half-empty glass of water, and broken crackers littered the floor beside the living room couch. A crocheted blanket hung halfway off the cushions.

“Something’s wrong,” Wesley declared, picking up the multicolored throw. “She always gives me a hard time if I use it and don’t fold it up and place it right here on the edge.”

We inspected every room, not sure of what we should be looking for. The kitchen reflected the same level of disarray with boxes of food opened on the counter and dishes in the sink. My shoe stuck to something tacky on the floor that hadn’t been wiped up after being spilled.

“I don’t like this.” Wesley left me, his footsteps pounding down the hallway. “Her bed’s a mess,” he called out from the back bedroom.

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