Lethal flip, p.19
Lethal Flip, page 19
On the way to the rehab, I saw Randy’s Plumbing Co. was on a call. The truck was parked at the chatty neighbor’s house. Randy was at the back of his van, loading his tools. On impulse, I drove past my rehab and parked behind him in the driveway where he was busy stashing his gear. I got out of the car and came up behind him.
“Hey, Randy!”
He jumped and faced me, slamming the truck doors.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.”
“I was finishing up.” He glanced at the closed doors, took off his hat and rubbed his bald spot. He replaced the cap, tugging it down on his forehead. He towered above me.
“You heard that Fernando was busted for Sarah’s murder?” I asked.
His face flushed, and his mouth twitched as he handled a wrench.
“Yep. Dad’s happy they got him.” He eased toward the driver’s seat.
“I’ll bet. Your dad seems like a nice guy.”
“He is.”
I looked around him at the van. A movement had caught my attention. An item dangled, caught in the bottom of the double van doors. I stared, trying to make out the object.
The confrontation with Fernando flashed across my mind. He hadn’t copped to the rats. He’d said they were meant to scare me. I gaped. “That’s a tail! The tail of a brown Norwegian rat!”
“What?” Randy moved to block my view. “Mind your own business, lady.” His voice was cool, menacing, as he gripped a plumber’s wrench. “Get out of my way! Move!”
“You put rats in houses for. . . what? To make like a wannabe mobster, like Vinnie Deala? To threaten people? For more business?” I yelled. “You’re a bully and a thief!”
“You’re crazy, I don’t have to take this.” He jumped into the driver’s seat.
“What about the exterminator? Tim?” I ranted. “Is he your business partner, too?”
“I work alone, lady,” he sneered.
“What about Fernando? He learned from Vinnie, too!”
“That’s different.” His voice was low and hard. “Move your rust bucket, or I’ll do it for you!”
“Don’t you dare! And my car is not a junker! What are you hiding in there?” I gasped and went for the back doors, throwing them open.
Inside was an overturned bucket spilling dead rats. I screamed again. My shrieks brought him out of the front seat, and he came at me with the wrench, “Shut up, you bitch!”
I dodged him, screaming louder. “Help!”
He slammed the doors, brandished the wrench, ran to the driver’s side, and hopped in behind the wheel. On the way, he hurled the wrench at the windshield of the Festiva, hitting a sweet spot, and breaking it.
He started the truck and, revving the engine, backed into the front of the Ford, crunching the fender. The hood buckled. He threw the truck into drive, and jerked the wheel to the right, making a large U-turn into the neighbor’s yard, leaving ruts, and the car in a heap. He squealed his tires and sped away.
I dashed to the car and cranked the engine. It sputtered, hissed, and died. I got out, stepping through a stream of water and antifreeze spewing from the radiator onto the drive. Resigned, I called 9-1-1.
Myra came promptly at seven, Eddy was a few minutes late.
“You wouldn’t believe the day I’ve had,” I grumbled. I took the basket of sage, snacks, candles, wine, and serve ware from Myra, placing it on the counter.
“What?” Myra asked. We stood in the living room of the Warbler rehab.
“Randy, Jr. left the rat in the toilet, Fernando left one in the shoebox and the dead carp.” I was grim as I unloaded the carrier. “They learned how to threaten people from Vinnie, the wannabe mob boss.”
“Say what, babe?” Eddy was astonished. I laid out the spread of goodies.
“Randy Jr. was in cahoots with Fernando. He suspected Fernando killed Sarah.”
“Why didn’t he call the police?” Myra uncorked a bottle of white wine.
“He had no love for Sarah. He didn’t like his father getting back with her. If push came to shove, and they charged his dad with Sarah’s murder, he’d have ratted out Fernando. As it was, he was glad Sarah was out of the way, and the rats were a bonus for his startup business. ‘Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.’”
“Oh, my,” Myra gasped. “How do you know all of this?” She poured chardonnay into a crystal glass.
“Randy had a bunch of rats stored in the back of his van. When I found them, he rammed my car. It’s toast. I had it towed to the junkyard.”
“Oh no! Katelyn!” She inhaled.
“Yep. The cops caught up with him and busted him for leaving the scene of an accident. He’s in jail. They’re investigating him, and his business practices.”
“OMG. Here.” Myra offered me a glass of wine.
I took a gulp.
“Don’t worry about your car. My old SUV is still good to go. It’s only taking up space in the garage.” She had lent me the cushy SUV after my car’s engine blew in a chase with the bad guys during my first renovation.
“Thanks, Myra.”
“Sorry, babe.” Eddy threw his arm around my shoulder and hugged me. “Rough day.”
“Yep.” I nodded.
“Shall we proceed?” Myra asked and twirled in the room. “This looks great! You won’t have any trouble selling this place.”
“Yeah. Nice job,” Eddy chimed. “Especially with that boss mirror and new bathroom door.”
We each lit a bundle of sage and placed it on a plate. I lit the lavender-scented candles and recited my intention for a clean home and quick sale. We walked through the dwelling, moving the herb into all the nooks and crannies. We finished blowing out the candles and crossed ourselves.
“It feels better,” Myra said.
“It does, doesn’t it?” I agreed. I forgot about the miserable day and viewed the house. Neutral colors and carpet updated the split-entry, and it appeared spacious and inviting. “I can hardly wait for Wayne to get home. I want to show him how it came out.”
“When will he and Gillie be back?” Eddy asked.
“This Saturday.”
“Well.” Myra smiled her Mona Lisa smile. “We must do something special.”
“Hey, let’s toast to a fresh start,” Eddy urged.
“Eddy is buying the Bluebird Street house. Wayne and Gillie are officially a couple,” I announced.
“My Hiptown construction is nearly finished,” Myra added.
With that, we freshened our glasses and held them up to one another, clicking the crystal, chanting in unison. “To new beginnings!”
Chapter 30
Myra and I met at the new Hiptown house.
“This is wonderful!” I was awestruck. The exterior was a beautiful shade of gray, which blended with the existing neighborhood housing. The porch had been replicated with half walls mimicking the original dwelling. New outdoor chairs and plants welcomed visitors on the porch.
“Yes. After the last visit from Bernie, the spirits were finally gone, the workers returned, and the job went off without a hitch.”
“Wish I could say the same.”
“You had special circumstances.” She gave me a wry look.
“You had rogue spirits,” I protested.
“Yes. We each had issues.” She sighed. “But it looks fabulous.” The exterior of the home had the lines of the Craftsman style home that had formerly been there, but better. It invited new residents with a bright, shiny-new presence.
“Myra, do you think it could have been vandals, and not a spirit, that spooked the workers? Maybe, even Deala? He’d been in Minnesota, maybe he saw you, and wanted to make mischief?” I shrugged. “I’m probably paranoid.”
She crossed her arms, tilted her head, and studied the outside of the house. “I suppose he may have had a hand in it. But we won’t really ever know.”
“Not as long as he stays put in a Mexican jail,” I said.
“Let’s hope he does. For my money, Bernie did the job,” and she chuckled. “Let’s go inside.” Indoors, the home was as beautiful as the outside. The open floor concept made the dwelling spacious and welcoming. Design elements of the era had been incorporated with moldings and doors. We took a tour of the upstairs bedrooms.
“No window seat?” I asked, surveying the room.
“Some things are better left out.” She gave a wistful smile mingled with regret.
“True enough.”
While I oohed and awed over the home, she asked, “What time are Wayne and Gillie expected back?”
“Saturday morning. Can’t wait,” I said. “It’s been a long stretch. The townhouses have been so quiet without neighbors. Not to mention, rehabbing the Warbler house without Wayne has been a nightmare.”
“Yes. That was quite the project.” She nodded.
“Amen. From creampuff to nightmare.” I grimaced.
“But it’s done and looks great,” she reminded me.
“It is. Thank you.”
“I have a few ideas to welcome the newlyweds home.” Her hazel eyes held a mischievous twinkle.
“What do you have in mind?”
“Well. . ..”
I giggled while Myra filled me in on her plans for a welcome home party and reception.
I had access to Wayne’s unit and borrowed the key to their new unit, purchased by the couple as their “together” home. Crossing my fingers, I explained to Wayne that I wanted to be sure everything was good for their arrival. They’d turned the water off in their absence and the unit needed cleaning.
“Sure. Ya go ahead,” he said. “We’re pumped to be coming home.”
“I’m super happy to see both of you!”
Myra and I decorated the home, set up a table, brought in potted plants, and rented an arbor. We arranged chairs in front of the arbor for guests to watch the wedding ceremony.
While adorning the arch with artificial roses and greenery, I said, “Myra, I don’t know how Wayne and Gillie feel about an official wedding. Wayne said they were taking their vows without making it a legal marriage. He called it the ‘commitment’ ceremony package.”
“This is a welcome home and combination reception party. It’ll be up to Wayne and Gillie if they want to make their commitment legal, or if they want to repeat their Las Vegas vows. I’m only giving them options.” She smiled impishly.
“Sure.” What Myra wants; Myra gets.
“You invited Don?”
“Yes, and his adopted daughter.” I grinned.
“He’s such a nice man.” Her eyes sparkled.
“Yes, he is.” I did an eye-roll. “I invited Eddy, too. And Broccoli Bob.” I coined Bob “Broccoli Bob” from an incident with rotting broccoli. He and Gillie had designed and maintained the memorial garden for Ariel, at her parent’s request.
“The more the merrier. I invited my brother, the police chief.” Myra said, and sniffed.
“Of course.”
It was agonizing not to tell Wayne and Gillie what we’d planned. I picked them up at the airport and drove them home. When they opened the door to their new unit and saw the decorations, Gillie’s face lit up. “Oh, Wayne. This is wonderful. We’d better get dressed.”
“Yep. Sure ‘nuff should.” Wayne threw his head back and guffawed. “Kiddo, you didn’t have to do all this.”
“It was Myra’s idea, and we wanted to. Welcome home!”
The patio of Ariel’s refurbished unit was lined with urns filled with flowers. At the far end was a white arbor. Just beyond the rose-decorated arbor was the garden Broccoli Bob had carefully cultivated during the months that Gillie and Wayne were away. It was in full bloom, with zinnias, dahlias, and other summer flowers between the tomato, squash, and pepper plants.
Bernie, the ghostbuster Myra had hired for the Hiptown house to clear the lot of paranormal presence, stood at attention under the arbor. He smiled reassuringly; his dark thin strands of hair askew. He wore a double-breasted white suit and rose-colored sunglasses.
The sound of Elvis Presley crooning Love Me Tender came from a boombox at one side of the arbor. The couple stopped, momentarily speechless.
“Oh, Wayne,” Gillie murmured, “this is wonderful!”
“Yep.” He gulped. “It sure is somethin’.” He wore a white dress shirt, dark vest and matching slacks. His long, gray hair was braided. Adjusting his tie, he grinned. “Gillie? Ya want to make this legit?”
“I’d love to, Wayne.” She looked at him, adoringly. She wore a lacey, tea length, apricot-colored dress. Her pixie hairstyle had the same hue, along with a streak of deep rose. A daring look for the woman known for matching sweatpants and hoodie outfits. She held a bouquet of red, long-stemmed roses.
“Me too! Let’s git ‘er done!” He grabbed her hand, and she left the bouquet with Don’s daughter. They strolled along the path to the sounds of Elvis crooning, and stopped in front of the arbor where the ghostbuster, Lyft driver, and marriage performer waited.
Bernie spoke solemnly, “By the powers vested in me . . .”
I stood between Eddy and Don. Myra and I dabbed at our eyes, while Eddy shuffled his feet, coughed, and sniffled. Don stood tall and attentive while he watched the ceremony, a broad smile stretched across his face, his adoptive daughter by his side.
There wasn’t a dry eye in the room as Wayne and Gillie recited their vows. Don reached for my hand and squeezed it. Our eyes locked. Eddy took my other hand and held Myra’s.
As we gazed at one another, a feeling of peace settled in, and the long, lonely journey faded. Then Don leaned towards me, his soft lips brushing against mine. In a low deep voice, he said, “Katelyn, let’s get married.”
“OMG!” I gasped.
THE END
Katelyn’s Home Improvement Tips
To remove rust stains from a porcelain sink, make a paste of lemon juice and table salt. Rub the mixture into stain and let sit. If stain is stubborn, apply again.
Rats entering through a toilet is the stuff of nightmares. Putting bleach in the toilet will suffocate a rat within fifteen minutes. A plumber can install a flap to prevent creepy creatures from swimming into the fixture through the sewer line.
Soak grimy barbecue grates overnight in a plastic garbage bag with ammonia. Wipe clean the next day.
Check other homes on the market in your area to see what your competition is when planning home improvements if you plan to sell.
Watch DIY shows to get ideas for updating your home.
Deep clean the bathroom with a solution of half vinegar and half dishwashing soap. Heat the vinegar and add the soap. Put in spray bottle. Don’t shake, mix gently.
When removing wallpaper, use a solution of 50/50 hot water and white vinegar. Score paper, spray solution, wait fifteen minutes, then remove with a blade. Repeat as needed.
Or, use equal parts fabric softener and water in a spray bottle to remove wallpaper. Score paper, and let solution soak in 15 minutes before removing.
Clean a stainless-steel sink by rinsing first, coat with baking soda, scrub in direction of stainless grain, spray on vinegar, rinse, and buff with olive oil.
Sometimes buying products can be a better investment than DIY, i.e., framing out a mirror vs. purchasing.
Use washing vinegar (available at the dollar store) for dark clothes instead of laundry soap to keep dark clothes looking their best.
Clean fixtures with the bulbs off, and wash windows on cloudy days. Streaks will show up under low light.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Many people deserve my gratitude for their support, friendship, and work associated with the Home Renovator Series, including libraries and bookstores. My sincere thank you to the following:
Thank you to Betty Borns, for our many years of friendship, fun and more: Joe Sebesta and Judith Anne Horner, beta readers; Twin Cities Sisters in Crime; Guppies; the Word Whippers Critique Group: William Anderson, Cathlene Buchholtz, Dale Butler, Barb Danson, and Mary Rodgers for their continuing support.
Thank you for reading Lethal Flip.
If you enjoyed this book, please post a review on your favorite retailer’s website.
FATAL FLIP, DEADLY FLIP, and LETHAL FLIP received five-star reviews from Reader’s Favorite.
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Also by M. E. Bakos
A Home Renovator Mystery
Fatal Flip
Deadly Flip
Lethal Flip
Killer Flip
Watch for more at M. E. Bakos’s site.
About the Author
M.E. Bakos writes cozy mysteries about a house flipper, turned sleuth, in fictional Crocus Heights, Minnesota. The “delightful” series earns five-star reviews from Readers Favorite. Her mystery short stories receive kudos. She has published several short stories in SINC anthologies, and was a regular fiction contributor to national women’s magazines.
If she isn’t plotting mysteries, she’s planning home improvements. You can find Fatal Flip, Deadly Flip, Lethal Flip, and more at https://mebakos.wixsite.com/author.
E-mail: mebakos@yahoo.com.
Mary lives with her husband, Joe, and spoiled pooch in Minnesota.
