Dying to Go (Nothing to Gush About): A Tucson Valley Retirement Community Cozy Mystery (Tucson Valley Retirement Community Cozy Mystery Series Book 1) by Marcy Blesy

Author:Marcy Blesy [Blesy, Marcy]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Marcy A. Blesy LLC
Published: 2023-11-08T00:00:00+00:00

“What have I done, Barley?” She licks the top of my Crocs and closes her eyes. I hug my body with my arms. It’s a chilly night, and I hadn’t planned on stepping outside when I put on my green tank top and pajama bottoms. I touch my hair which feels like a bird’s nest, piled high on top of my head since I hadn’t removed the elastic band from my ponytail. I reach for my phone to text Keaton back, but he’s pulling up in front of the house right now with his blue truck. I take a deep breath before tying Barley’s leash to a metal peacock that is staked in the ground near a golden barrel cactus. I wish it could tell me what happened tonight. Barley is so tired she doesn’t even bark when Keaton walks up the driveway—some guard dog she is. I throw my arms across my chest as I suddenly realize I’m not wearing a bra. “Hey,” I say. “I’m sorry for dragging you out here in the middle of the night.”

Keaton has a huge smile on his face, a welcome comfort that doesn’t exactly match the mood of the night. “There is no way I’d pass up the chance to help a snowman in distress—especially in Arizona. Snowmen are hard to come by.”

I cock my head to the side and wrinkle my forehead in confusion. “What do you mean?” I ask at the same time Keaton points to my face. I close my eyes and wish I could click my crocs three times and disappear. “It’s a face mask,” I say softly.

“I’m only teasing you, Rosi. You look cute.”

“I…I…I’m…oh man, this was a bad…”

Keaton reaches for my hand, but I don’t dare unleash the hold on my floppy boobs. “You’re adorable, with or without the white face mask.” He bops me on the nose, taking some of the cream off and wiping it on the end of his nose. “Now we are a snow couple!”

I bite my top lip. “I think I’m in the middle of a nightmare.”

“Well, I’m happy to have a role in your dreams.” He smiles, and for a moment I have completely forgotten why I’ve brought Keaton here.

I point toward my parents’ car. “Want to see?”

I follow Keaton to the car, hugging myself tightly. In green printed letters—Stop Snooping—is prominent. “Do you have any suspects?”

“I think it might be the artwork of Salem’s son.”

“Barry?”

“Do you know him?”

“He’s a real tool. He used to live in Tucson Valley, but the town proper, not the retirement community, and sometimes my crew works there. He took us to court a few years ago. He accused us of cutting his cable line when we were doing some landscaping for the city. There were no cable lines anywhere near where we were working, but my boss at the time settled with Barry out of court to save us the embarrassment of more mudslinging that might threaten future contracts. He was looking for a chance to upgrade his cable without having to pay.

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