The Fruitcake: A twisty murder mystery you won't soon forget by Leah Orr

Author:Leah Orr [Orr, Leah]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9798985578379
Publisher: Orrplace Press
Published: 2023-10-31T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Six

The New Neighbor

April 2020

Holly

Greta chose a lower body class on her Peloton app for this morning’s sidewalk class. Chase, the instructor, has us start with twenty squats. Chloe, Gina, and I start the squat series, but Greta stands in place.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“Um, I can’t do squats in public.”

“What?”

“Why?”

“Since when?”

We all follow up with our own questions.

“Well, squats make me fart, um, loudly, and, well, so I don’t do them in public anymore.” Greta’s face is flustered, and she starts to laugh.

Now we’re all laughing so hard that Greta has to pause the class.

“I don’t believe you,” snipes Gina. “Prove it.”

Greta does her squat; sure enough, a short but thunderous fart escapes from her booty.

Through the mist of laughter, Gina says, “No more boom boom in the zoom zoom for you, girlfriend. Your booty box has had enough. The air escaping is probably because it’s all stretched out.”

More laughter ensues.

“I am quite sure that’s not the problem I’m having,” Greta insists.

“So this is not an adverse effect of dancing the chocolate cha-cha?” Gina banters back.

“No! I don’t do that,” says Greta defiantly, but then she cracks, barely able to keep her face from laughter. “Well, if I did do that, which I definitely did not, my defense would be, what else is there to do at home during Covid than Netflix and chill?”

“Netflix, chill, and mashing brownies, maybe?” Gina proposes. “And what do you think about all of this, Chloe?”

Chloe, thrown off balance by the question, answers, “Um, well, maybe drinking more water and less high-fiber foods could help? I think passing gas during rigorous exercise is common. Isn’t it? Anyway, how about we pick a new class to take?”

We agree to take a twenty-minute core routine class on the mat, concentrating on our tummies. But, for the remainder of the morning, none of us can keep a straight face.

Shortly after the class ends, a giant moving truck enters the cul-de-sac and stops in front of Patty’s old house. A red Ferrari follows behind, and a strange looking man with bright red hair and a seersucker suit emerges. I already know this guy is going to be a douche.

“Someone needs to tell him a redhead has no business driving a red car,” offers Gina. “And seersucker? Really? Did he just get back from the Kentucky Derby?”

“It won’t be me,” says Greta. “He looks too much like many of the blowhards I work with in my office. No, thank you.”

“Blowhard?” Maybe try that, Greta, and give your butt a break.” Gina laughs. She’s really on a roll with her jokes this morning. Strangely, we’re all entertained by Gina’s snide remarks. These days, since concerts, movies, and music festivals are canceled until no one knows when, Gina is our best avenue for amusement.

“Well, if this new neighbor misbehaves, we can always deliver a fruitcake. Problem solved,” I say.

“Good idea,” says Gina. “I heard from the new HOA lady that he’s renting Patty’s house until her children settle their fight over the estate.

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