All that glitters isnt o.., p.1
All That Glitters Isn't Old, page 1
Also by Gabby Allan
A Whit and Whiskers Mystery
Much Ado About Nauticaling
Something Fishy This Way Comes
A Tallie Graver Mystery (Written as Misty Simon)
Cremains of the Day
Grounds for Remorse
Deceased and Desist
Carpet Diem
Varnished Without a Trace
ALL THAT GLITTERS ISN’T OLD
GABBY ALLAN
Kensington Publishing Corp.
www.kensingtonbooks.com
Table of Contents
Also by
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
KENSINGTON BOOKS are published by
Kensington Publishing Corp.
119 West 40th Street
New York, NY 10018
Copyright © 2023 by Misty Simon
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
To the extent that the image or images on the cover of this book depict a person or persons, such person or persons are merely models, and are not intended to portray any character or characters featured in the book.
The K and Teapot logo is a trademark of Kensington Publishing Corp.
ISBN: 978-1-4967-4206-3 (ebook)
ISBN: 978-1-4967-4205-6
To all the readers who are loving Goldy . . . me too! Thanks so much for making her and the rest of the group within these pages come alive!
This book is also dedicated to Shannon, who made this book shine!
Thank you for all your work and for helping me!
Chapter 1
Outside my small house on the hill above Avalon Bay, a glorious Saturday afternoon was just getting started. A light breeze rippled the floral curtains, bringing with it the smell of the sea, warmed pavement, and a hint of the bougainvillea in my window box.
Inside that small house, I should have been getting ready to go snorkeling with my boyfriend, Felix Ramirez, a scuba diver for the police. I should have been wondering what he was packing for the picnic he’d promised me. I should have been figuring out which bathing suit showed off my curvy figure without going overboard.
Instead, I was standing in front of my closet trying to choose an appropriate outfit to wear to a funeral of a woman I barely knew. On an island as small as Catalina, off the coast of California, there were few people I didn’t know, but Therese Milner had been a recluse for years, since before I had even been born, almost thirty years ago. It wasn’t unheard of to not know everyone, but in a town with about three thousand permanent residents, it wasn’t exactly the norm.
And the Milner family was all about not being the norm, or at least that was what Goldy had told me. Goldy was my grandmother but she refused to be called Grandma, Grammy, Gran, MomMom, Gam, or any other variation. Ever. It was a personal preference, from what I’d been told, but it was also a rule etched in stone. No one crossed that line without risking great consequences.
She’d known the Milners for years and had actually dated one of their sons before she’d found my grandfather, Thomas Dagner. He, unlike Goldy, was very proud to be a grandfather and loved to be called Pops.
But because Goldy knew this family and had dated one of the sons, she was adamant we all go to the funeral to show our support. Of course, my brother, Nick, had backed out the morning of through text, and Pops had said no from the get-go. So it was only me and Goldy.
What could go wrong with that? I didn’t even have the time to start a list that big. Just call me Whitney Dagner, dutiful granddaughter to a non-grandmother.
Other things had to take up my time, like finding something to wear. I was used to a normal, everyday look that featured mostly shorts and a T-shirt. The island was laid back, and I dressed accordingly. I very much welcomed this attitude after spending years on the mainland and having to jam myself into skirts, heels, and jackets for my job with the railroad and container-shipping company.
I did still have some formal/business wear, but was that the appropriate outfit for an island funeral? I had no idea. I hadn’t been to a funeral here since I was a teenager. With so few residents, there weren’t many to go to.
In the end, I went with my gut, which was about fifty percent right fifty percent of the time. I was positive that if I was dressed wrong, Goldy would let me know right away when I got to her house to pick her up.
Pulling a charcoal skirt from the closet, I sneered at it for being much smaller than I remembered and hoped it would still fit. I’d debated throwing away all my corporate clothes when I moved back to the island, but had held on to a few, just in case. And this was one of those just-in-cases. After pairing it with a gray boatneck blouse, I decided to skip nylons because I had to draw the line somewhere. While it wasn’t hot on the island, even at the end of August, there was no weather or temperature where I liked pantyhose of any kind.
I threw the clothes on the bed behind me without looking and got scolded by my chonky kitty, Whiskers. She yowled so loudly, I was afraid she’d wake up my roommate, Maribel, who had come home about an hour ago from her overnight shift at the police station.
“Oh, baby. I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you there.”
The orange-striped cat clawed her way out from under the skirt and shirt and then sat on them to groom herself. Of course.
“No, no, no. Come on, get off my stuff.” I went to pull the skirt out from under her but stopped when she hissed at me, unsheathing her claws. Thankfully she didn’t dig them into the fabric, but if I wasn’t mistaken, she was daring me to take one more step toward her, therefore giving her permission to gleefully dig in. Little brat.
At the sound of a laugh behind me, I closed my eyes.
“Sassy,” Maribel Hernandez said from the doorway, leaning there as if she had nothing better to do than make fun of me.
“No doubt. Does she do this to you?”
“No, she’s more into fighting me for my curling iron in the bathroom.” Maribel fluffed her dark brown hair with its perfect curls to show me she had won that last round. “She’s not into my clothes. Then again, I don’t throw things on her, because I know better. You should too.”
“Can you grab her so I can get dressed?” I kept my eye on Whiskers to see if she’d back down, but that paw was still hovering and those claws were still out.
“Nope, I think I want to watch and see how this plays out, chica. If Felix were here, I guarantee we’d be placing bets on who’s going to win.”
“I’m sure you’d both be betting against me. Nice, Maribel.”
“Anytime, Whit.”
“I wish you’d come with me to this funeral.” I didn’t want to sound desperate, but there was still a slight whine to my words. And if she was up and looking fresh, then she could help me out now and sleep later.
“No, thanks. Hey, at least this isn’t something you had anything to do with. You didn’t have to catch a killer before the case could be wrapped up and the victim put in the ground or shipped back to the mainland.”
She wasn’t wrong, and I was eternally grateful for that. “True. And I have absolutely no plans for solving anything else. The last three months have been more than enough for anyone.” I waved one hand near the window and got ready to grab my skirt out from under my problem-child cat. Distraction sometimes worked. Not this time, though. Whiskers again hovered her paw over the blouse, as if daring me to try to take it from her. Dammit.
“And now that Ray Pablano has been moved to station commander, I’m pretty sure he’d have some very strong words if you got yourself involved in anything new.”
I blew out a breath and tried to come up with a new distraction for Whiskers. “He already told me that in no uncertain terms. It was unnecessary, but whatever. I’m perfectly happy for there to be no more murders on the island in the first place, and in the second place I’m happy to have nothing to do with them. That’s almost your job now.”
“Ha! Not if I can’t pass this next class. I don’t know if I’m going to. There’s so much work.” She rubbed the back of her neck and blew out a breath. Her pajamas had frolicking avocados on them, and I wished I were back in my own pjs instead of trying to figure out how to wrestle my clothes from a sassy cat.
“You’re totally up for it. You’re doing great.” I meant this with my whole heart, though I couldn’t ignore the fact that if she graduated as a criminal justice major, she probably would not want to remain a receptionist
“Could you please try to take the chonkster off my bed?” I asked.
“Nope, she’s your animal. You take care of it.”
“Thanks so much for no help at all.” I rolled my eyes.
“My pleasure.” She turned away from the door, then turned back. “Catnip?” she said, and did Whiskers jump right off the bed and run after Maribel?
Of course she did.
“Thanks!” I yelled, and Maribel laughed. Whatever, as long as the cat was gone with her sharp claws and her cattitude.
Glancing at the clock, I realized I had about three minutes to get dressed and make it to my grandparents’ house. Since they only lived a short distance away and I was quick with the clothes, I shouldn’t be too late. After pulling on the skirt and blouse and shoving my feet into a pair of low heels, I hustled out to my golf cart waiting in front of the house and zoomed away. Or at least I zoomed as best as could be expected in a car that only went seventeen miles per hour downhill.
I screeched the tires to a halt when I reached the bungalow where I’d grown up, and texted Goldy to let her know I was waiting for her. Only two minutes late. I would probably be able to get away with that.
When the door didn’t immediately open and Goldy didn’t come steaming out at full speed to berate me, I beeped the horn I’d installed last week. Well, it didn’t actually beep. I’d instead programmed it to play the yo-ho song from Pirates of the Caribbean. Not everyone loved it, but they didn’t have to.
No sign of Goldy still, so I turned off the cart, stood, and straightened my skirt, which thankfully had no holes in it, then approached the door. As I made my way up the short sidewalk, I could hear raised voices. I quickened my pace.
Even though I couldn’t make out the words, it sounded like Goldy was angry and Pops wasn’t far behind her. I had a key to the door. I could let myself in. I completely chickened out at the last second and knocked instead.
No answer, so I knocked again. At this point, if no one opened the door, I was going to go home, call Felix, change into my bathing suit, and go snorkeling. I hadn’t wanted to go to this funeral anyway, and I certainly didn’t want to take an angry Goldy. It would be like putting one of the island’s bisons on a leash and expecting it not to drag you up a hill.
Unfortunately I didn’t leave the scene and get into my golf cart fast enough. Goldy whipped open the door, stomped out, and then slammed it shut behind her.
“Your grandfather is a pain.”
This was the part where I just kept my mouth shut. Goldy was a force to be reckoned with in any circumstance, all five feet of her. Goldy on a rampage was a hurricane dancing with a tsunami.
“He is so stubborn. I told him to get ready to go to the funeral and he refused.”
I could have said I thought he had already told her that but all it would get me would be a scowl and, more likely, yelled at to transfer her anger to me. No, thanks.
So I kept my mouth shut while turning the cart back on and then taking off, letting her continue to talk. I listened but didn’t respond as I admired the flora and fauna along the way to Cemetery Road. People’s flowers were flowing from their window boxes, brilliant white rocks took the place of grass along some of the sidewalks, and potted plants sat on small porches or hung from the latticework over the front door. I’d seen the same landscape a thousand times, but it was worth a thousand and first look if it kept me out of target range.
“I wanted him to come with me because I’m not a fan of Darren’s family at all. It would have been better to be able to introduce my husband to Darren and to have someone to lean on if I need to. But does he listen?”
I could feel her staring at me, but I kept my eyes on the road. I wanted to be a good driver, of course, and on the way to a funeral was a very bad time to get into an accident. Besides, wasn’t I enough of a person to lean on?
In my peripheral I watched her fix the cleavage on one of the fanciest black dresses I’d ever seen her wear. Had she bought it just for the funeral? Probably something else I shouldn’t blurt out.
“No, he doesn’t listen,” she said, answering her own question and crossing her arms under her chest.
She sat back so I could no longer see her, and I released a slow and nearly silent sigh.
Still, she kept talking. “I told him how important this was to me, but he doesn’t care.”
I had no answer for that since I had never heard of Darren before this week, and I had no idea what the circumstances were from long ago or now. It was always better not to guess with Goldy.
“He thinks this is just some stupid excuse to see my old boyfriend, but it’s so much more than that, and he should know.”
I did the noncommittal “hmmm,” because continued silence could be interpreted as my not agreeing with her. I kept driving, wishing Cemetery Road were just a little closer. At least I wasn’t trying to traverse the 405 in Los Angeles, where it was almost guaranteed to take an hour to go three miles.
“Well, it doesn’t matter now. He can just sit at home and mope all he wants. It was just an opportunity to see an old friend and support him during this difficult time. That’s not a bad thing, is it?”
That one I had an answer for. “Of course not, Goldy.”
“Are you mocking me?” She shot forward and the new highlights in her light brown hair glowed with the fire of the sun.
So maybe not the right answer, and I should have just continued to keep my mouth shut.
“Can this go any faster? We’re going to be late.”
I did not point out that I had been at her house on time and she was the one who was making us late. Good for me.
Fortunately, we rounded a corner, and the cemetery was in sight. I let the conversation go and peeked at her as she pouffed her hair and pulled out a compact mirror to check her lipstick and reapply.
Because we didn’t have many funerals on the island, I wasn’t surprised to see so many golf carts parked at the side of the road. This would no doubt be an event to be seen at in support of the family but also to rub elbows with whoever else was here and to show people you were a good community member. They could have it. I was only here until the service was done—no standing around to chat afterward. And then I’d be on the way to my wonderful picnic with Felix. The thought of the picnic and escape was enough to keep me in place in all my finery so as not to irritate Goldy and then have to endure a lecture instead of being able to leave right after Therese was put in the ground. And, yes, at almost thirty I was still very prone to receiving those lectures if I was doing something Goldy would prefer I didn’t.
The funeral itself shouldn’t last too long once it got started. I could hang on to that and the lovely feeling of being outside on this gorgeous day. I wasn’t a huge fan of cemeteries, but this one was stunning with its lovely green shrubs and vividly colored flowers swaying gently in the breeze coming off the Pacific.
And if I kept my eyes on the shrubs, then I could ignore the fact that a lot of the funeral-goers were talking and laughing among themselves with their circles and turned away from the grave and Therese’s remaining family. Only Goldy stood looking at the coffin on top of the contraption that would lower it into the ground.
The deceased’s husband stood on the other side of the gathering with another man; both of them were dark-haired and dressed to the hilt in suits, and no one seemed to be paying attention to them. Or maybe no one was approaching because they seemed to be exchanging strong words. Their facial expressions were not happy or sad. They were angry. What was it with the anger today? I wouldn’t have approached them, either, if Goldy hadn’t grabbed my arm and dragged me along the path toward them.
“Now, when we get over there, don’t say anything, just stand next to me and smile with some sadness in your expression.”
“What is this, a casting call?”
She turned and scowled at me. “Behave.”
