Bon Voyage: A Humorous Beaver Island Mystery (The Beaver Island Mysteries Book 6) by Maia Ross

Author:Maia Ross [Ross, Maia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Cozy, Cosy, mystery, humor, Humorous, Quirky, women sleuths, Amateur Women Sleuths, Amateur female Sleuths, crime fiction, Amateur female detectives, amateur sleuth, Humorous Dark Comedy, Dark Humor, cozy mysteries humorous women, cozy detective mysteries, cozy detective books, cozy books mysteries
Publisher: Lazy Beaver Press
Published: 2023-11-29T16:00:00+00:00

Twenty-Three—Irma

I was parked in front of Ben’s house when bloody Igor called from a blocked phone number. At least Violet was all right, although she sounded irritated. On the bright side, irritated was always better than scared.

After some deep, calming breaths, I trotted around to the back of Ben’s house. It was daytime, after all, and I didn’t want the neighbours to see me using my favourite lock picks—a Christmas present from Camille.

The garden still looked picture-perfect, the late summer flowers blooming in strictly regimented arrangements, the blossoms scenting the air. I paused to take it in, a moment of stillness sneaking into my bones.

I hadn’t known Ben all that well, but he’d told me the secrets of his begonia fertilizer a few years ago, and I’d had a fond spot in my heart for him ever since.

What was that?

Footsteps. Step-step, pause, step.

Oh, bollocks.

“Irma?” Snookie Smith said, her voice slightly less vinegary than usual. She was wearing a muddy green polyester housedress that hung above her ankles, and her hair was in curlers. For a moment I wondered if she’d gone completely mental.

“Snookie…” I said warily.

Her face pulled itself into a confused expression before she pointed at her head. “I have a treatment in my hair. To curl it.” After a pause, she added, “My hairdresser has just retired.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” I said politely.

She made an odd noise, and I looked closer. Were her eyes red?

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

“I could ask you the same question,” she said with a sniffle.

“I asked first,” I said, trying to keep the irritation out of my voice.

She blinked a few times before making her way to one of the lounge chairs in Ben’s little sitting area. Then she motioned for me to join her. I did, maintaining a safe distance.

“Irma,” she started, then patted the curlers. “I realize that this might look odd, but…”

I waited.

“Ben and I…”

My eyes widened before I could stop them. Ben and Snookie? He had been such a lovely, quiet man. What on earth would he want with someone like her?

But her bottom lip was trembling now, and I tried to let the thought go. Emotions were a pesky thing, and wasn’t I canoodling with a former enemy myself?

And where was Boris, exactly?

I tried to focus. As Snookie had finally dropped her frivolous tractor lawsuit against me, it was perhaps best to stay civil with her, although I was certainly open to letting the next rogue tractor I encountered run right over her bottom.

“I’m very sorry for your loss, Snookie,” I said.

She cleared her throat and pulled her sweater over her chest. “Thank you, Irma,” she finally said.

She seemed to be working up to say something else after that, so I let my gaze run over the garden and its bright, healthy vines and—I blinked—a perfect view into Snookie’s back yard. Then I squinted. A doorway had been cut into Ben’s fence at some point in the past, connecting his yard with Snookie’s. Well, well, well.

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