Chapter 1
I was staring at the half-complete job application when the phone rang.
It had been a slow couple of days, but that didn’t excuse what I was doing. In my last position as COO of a multi-million-dollar company, if I had caught anyone filling out a job application during work hours, I would have severely reprimanded them, if not outright terminated their employment.
But after spending the morning listening to Aunt Tilde and Mildred argue about the best ways to trap a gargoyle (apparently, for reasons unclear, the gargoyle statues at the Redemption Cemetery would come to life around Halloween and move around the gravestones, although no one had any actual proof of it—hence why Aunt Tilde and Mildred were in such a heated discussion about how they could ultimately get to the bottom of this Redemption myth by trapping one … although that would only work if they were actually moving around … but I digress) and having no actual work to distract me, I was choosing to ignore the guilty twinge in my gut and finish the application.
After all, I reasoned, it wasn’t like what I had was an actual job. Or that it was even an actual detective agency. As far as I could tell, The Redemption Detective Agency existed to give Aunt Tilde a tax break, Mildred something to do during her retirement years, and Nora a way to procrastinate when she didn’t feel like being a bookstore owner. It wasn’t like the agency made any money—although, to be fair, it didn’t really need to. Rent was dirt cheap, as the agency was located in what was once a restaurant in a strip mall located a couple of blocks off of downtown Redemption. No one was paid a salary other than me, and even that was a bit hit or miss, depending on whether a client took pity on us and decided to write a check. Luckily, I also didn’t have many bills, as I lived rent- and utilities-free in an apartment above Aunt Tilde’s garage. Other than food and gas for my car (and maybe an occasional vet bill for Scout, my rescue yellow lab mix) I didn’t have much need for money.
But that wasn’t any excuse for not having an actual grown-up job. I was thirty-two years old and perfectly capable of taking care of myself. For goodness’ sake, just a few months before, I was the head of operations of a very successful company. I shouldn’t need to depend on my eccentric aunt.
And yet, here I was.
After losing my job, my apartment, my car, and my fiancé a few months ago, I had no choice but to plunk myself down in Redemption, Wisconsin (a strange little haunted town where all sorts of odd things happened—like those gargoyles wandering around in the graveyard on Halloween) to live with my aunt and work at her business that was more hobby than business.
I was tired. So tired. Every day, I felt like I was pushing a boulder up a hill, and no one even noticed, much less cared. Nobody at the agency was interested in my skills or expertise in managing a profitable business, or they would be listening to me. Why did I even bother?
Especially when there was an actual, real, grown-up job with the Redemption School District staring me in the face. At least, the half-complete application was staring me in the face.
While yes, it was basically a glorified secretarial position far beneath my qualifications, it would also be a first step toward getting a proper job. Seeing as my last company had also blackballed me when they fired me, I needed other work experience to put on my resume. Plus, I would get retirement and health benefits, as well as a salary. Not to mention I would be working with my boyfriend Jerome. Truly, it was a no-brainer to apply.
So why hadn’t I?
The phone ringing jarred me out of my brooding. I flipped over the file folder that I was using to hide my job application and picked up the phone. “The Redemption Detective Agency, Emily speaking.”
“Well, well, well, she finally did it.”
While I was pretty sure the speaker was a woman, it was a little difficult to tell. Not only because her voice was low gravely contralto (I would put money on her being a smoker), but there was also a lot of static. “I’m sorry, I’m not sure who you’re referring to.”
“I said she finally did it.”
I raised my voice. “Who did what?”
“What? You’re going to have to speak up. It’s kind of loud here.”
“Who did what?” I felt like I was shouting.
“Tilde, of course. This is a detective agency, right?”
“Yes.”
“She always said she wanted to own a detective agency. Fancied herself a modern-day Nancy Drew. Not that I doubted her or anything. Once Tilde sets her mind to something, she tends to get it.”
“That does sound like my aunt.”
“Oh!” The voice brightened. “You’re Emily. Of course you are. That’s what you said when you answered the phone. I should have figured it out sooner. I’m Amelia, but my friends call me Meli. Tilde has said such wonderful things about you.”
“Um … thank you.” I wished I could say the same about her, but Aunt Tilde had never mentioned an Amelia or a Meli. “How can I help you? Do you need a detective?”
“I should say so,” Meli said with a chuckle. “I wouldn’t be spending five dollars a minute if I didn’t.”
My eyes widened. Five dollars a minute? Where was she calling from? Oh geez, I hoped this didn’t mean we were going to have to try and investigate in a foreign country, likely without any pay. “Did you want to talk to Tilde?”
“She’s there? Oh yes, please put her on.”
I put Meli on hold and tried to get Aunt Tilde’s attention. It took me a minute, as the gargoyle argument was really heating up. “I don’t know, Mildred,” Aunt Tilde was saying as she stirred her coffee. Her outfit was a little more sedate than normal, as her orange cardigan almost matched her bright-orange hair and oversized glasses. Of course, she had paired it with a green turtleneck that didn’t match at all. “I really don’t think gargoyles like chocolate.”
“Everyone likes chocolate,” Mildred said firmly. In contrast to Aunt Tilde, she wore a pressed gray pantsuit with a single string of pearls, and her gray, permed hair looked freshly styled, like she had just come from her twice-weekly hairdresser appointment. “Why do you think they come to life around Halloween?”
“You think they want to trick or treat?” Aunt Tilde asked.
“Wouldn’t you?” Mildred said. “It has to be tough not being able to move for most of the year.”
“Aunt Tilde,” I nearly shouted. “Phone for you.”
Aunt Tilde’s eyes lit up. “Really? Is it a client?”
“It might be. It’s someone named Amelia or Meli.”
Aunt Tilde’s mouth turned into a round O. “Meli? Oh my. I haven’t talked to her in ages.”
“I didn’t realize she had come back,” Mildred said.
“I don’t think she has,” I said as Aunt Tilde went to her desk. “Wherever she’s calling from, it’s like five dollars a minute.”
Aunt Tilde’s jaw dropped. “Five dollars a minute? Oh my. I better see what she wants.”
“She’s on line one, so make sure you push the line one button.” Even though we’d had the phone system for a month, and I had spent a half-day training everyone on it, it was still an adventure any time Aunt Tilde or Mildred took a call. Sometimes it worked perfectly, while other times, the person ended up being forwarded to some unrelated business or hung up on completely.
I held my breath, hoping the woman that was being charged five dollars a minute wouldn’t end up getting transferred to a pizza restaurant.
“Meli! Is that you? Meli?”
Oh no. Did she lose her? I was just about to get out of my chair to see if I could somehow salvage the situation when Aunt Tilde continued. “Wait, what are you saying? You want me to buy you hoses?”
I sank back in my chair, letting my breath out in a whoosh. I had no idea if anything productive would come out of the conversation, but at least Aunt Tilde was talking to her.
Mildred was watching Aunt Tilde, her lips pursed as she shook her head. “I can’t believe she’s calling Tilde.”
“I can’t believe she is either, at $5 a minute,” I said.
Mildred waved her hand impatiently, like spending $5 a minute was inconsequent. “No, not because of that. I just assumed she thought she was too good for us.”
“Why would she think that?”
“Well, after she won the lottery, it didn’t seem like she had any time for her old friends anymore.”
I blinked. Meli won the lottery? I’d never met anyone who had won the lottery before. “How much did she win?”
Mildred wrinkled her nose. “Five million? Maybe ten?”
My jaw dropped. Meli won five million dollars? Why couldn’t I win five million dollars? Or even a million dollars? That would take care of all my problems. Not only would I be able to finally get my own place, but I wouldn’t have to worry about landing a job to make it happen.
“I can’t remember the exact amount,” Mildred continued. “I do know it was a good chunk of change, though. Enough that she didn’t have to worry about money anymore.” Her expression darkened. “Nor, apparently, her friends.”
I wasn’t sure what to say to that. Meli sounded friendly enough on the phone, but it wasn’t like I knew her at all.
Mildred looked like she was going to say something else, but Aunt Tilde interrupted her as she hung up the phone. “Come on, Emily. We’ve got our next case.”
“What case is this?” I asked as I gathered up my notebook and pen. I also shoved the file folder with the job application in it into the bottom of my desk drawer, trying not to think about the surge of relief I felt realizing I probably wouldn’t have to look at it again for a while.
“We have to check on her roses,” Aunt Tilde said.
My hand stilled. “We have to do what?”
“We have to check on her roses,” Aunt Tilde repeated as she grabbed her purse and started fumbling for her keys. Scout picked his head up from the doggy bed he had been lying on.
“What’s wrong with her roses?” Mildred asked.
Aunt Tilde waved her hand. “She’s worried her niece forgot to water them.”
I briefly closed my eyes. “Did she try calling her niece?”
“Well, of course she did,” Aunt Tilde said, giving me a look like I should have known better. “Otherwise, it wouldn’t be a case.”
“I guess I still don’t see how it’s a case,” I said. “We’re supposed to be private detectives, not landscapers.”
“Meli didn’t say we needed to water the roses,” Aunt Tilde said, like it should be obvious. “We’re just supposed to make sure her niece is watering them.”
“Yes, but …” I had so many questions (not the least of which, I still didn’t understand how checking to see if someone was keeping up with their gardening duties qualified as a case) that I didn’t even know where to start. “You’re telling me she called us knowing it would cost her $5 a minute to have us check on her roses?”
“September and October are crucial months for rose bushes,” Mildred said. “A lot of people don’t know this, but roses still need to be watered even in fall. They need sufficient moisture to prepare them for winter. I don’t blame Meli for being concerned.”
“But if that’s the case, wouldn’t her niece have known that?”
“I got the feeling her niece is a little scatterbrained,” Aunt Tilde said, finally locating her keys with a triumphant humph.
Mildred snorted. “If she’s anything like Meli, she’s definitely scatterbrained. It wouldn’t surprise me if Meli forgot to give her proper instructions for taking care of the rose bushes.”
“I don’t know about that,” Aunt Tilde said. “She does love those roses. Remember how she won all those awards for them at the state fair?”
“If that’s the case, then wouldn’t it make sense to call a landscaper to go out there instead of us?” I asked.
“The landscaper isn’t going to investigate where her niece is,” Aunt Tilde said, heading to the coat rack. Scout also got up and stretched.
“So this is about her niece, then. Not the roses.” That at least made more sense to me.
“I’m sure it’s about the roses,” Mildred said as she also went to fetch her coat.
“She sure does love them,” Aunt Tilde agreed. “But I’m sure she also loves her niece, too. Right?” She didn’t sound very confident. Mildred also didn’t look very convinced.
No, I wasn’t going there. This was about the niece. It had to be about the niece.
“When was the last time Meli spoke to her niece?”
Aunt Tilde frowned. “That’s part of the issue. It sounded like it had been a while. She’s been leaving voicemails, but Brandy hasn’t responded.”
“I’m not surprised, if it’s going to cost $5 a minute,” I said as I chewed on my bottom lip. “Although I suppose Meli would be covering the cost of the calls. Where is Meli anyway?”
“At some port … somewhere,” Aunt Tilde said. “I couldn’t really understand her. But wherever it is, it has terrible phone reception.”
I blinked. “Port? You mean like a cruise?”
“Meli loves those, too,” Mildred said with an edge in her voice, like she was still mulling how Meli loved cruises and roses more than people.
I was still stuck trying to understand the whole situation. “But if Meli is on a cruise, then how is Brandy supposed to respond?”
“I would imagine a telegram,” Mildred said. “That’s what I would do.”
“A telegram?” I stared at both of them. “That seems a little overkill, doesn’t it? Why doesn’t Meli wait until she gets home, and she can check on Brandy and her roses then? Cruises only last a couple of weeks, right?”
“Many are only a few days long,” Mildred said.
“Okay, but you’re talking like it’s been … months. How long has she been gone?”
Aunt Tilde and Mildred looked at each other. “Three years?” Aunt Tilde guessed.
“Might be four,” Mildred said.
My jaw dropped. “Three years? She went on a three-year cruise?”
“I don’t think it was just one,” Aunt Tilde said.
“It started with that month-long Mediterranean cruise,” Mildred said.
“How do you go on a month-long cruise and never come back?” I asked. “Did she end up stranded on a deserted island somewhere, like Gilligan?”
“I think she just kept going on cruise after cruise after cruise,” Aunt Tilde said.
“It wasn’t just the cruises,” Mildred said. “I heard she spent some time at a winery in Italy and at the French Riviera.”
“And don’t forget the Amazon Rainforest,” Aunt Tilde said. “Remember she took that wrong turn and ended up spending an extra month in the jungle? She always did have a terrible sense of direction.”
My head was spinning. “So you’re saying Meli has been traveling the world for the past three or four years and only now is worried about whether or not Brandy has been watering her roses?”
“You can hardly blame her for worrying,” Mildred said. “If Brandy hasn’t been, they’re probably dead by now.”
Scout came over to nose me, his eyes bright. I scratched him behind the ears, wondering again how this ended up becoming my life.
“And that’s why we better hurry,” Aunt Tilde said. “Meli said she was going to call us back in a couple of hours, so we could give her an update. What are you waiting for, Emily?”
What I wanted to say was that I was waiting for an actual case to walk through the door. But considering it didn’t seem likely to happen in the next five minutes, I was apparently stuck investigating whether or not rose bushes were receiving proper care.
“Hurry up, Emily,” Aunt Tilde said again. “Remember, those rose bushes are award winning. If they’ve been neglected, there still might be time to save them.”
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