The Tessa Randolph Collection, Books 1-3 by Paula Lester (good short books .TXT) 📕

on the upholstery. Knick-knacks covered every available surface, and dirty teacups and plates sat precariously on top of other items, threatening to pitch off to their metaphorical deaths at any moment.

But even more than the clutter and countrified décor, the thing that stood out about the home was its strong odor. Tessa’s nose twitched, and she longed to rub it but had a pretty good idea that Mrs. Cross would notice and call her out on it. Then what would she say? Somehow, “I’m sorry, but this place reeks,” didn’t seem advisable.

And the scent wasn’t bad, per se. It smelled like orange and cinnamon and reminded Tessa of the mall during Christmastime. Except it was stronger. Much, much stronger. In addition to the twitchy nose, Tessa began to suffer a low-grade burning in her eyes, which watered in response.

Great. I need to figure out how to make this quick.

Mrs. Cross lowered herself onto a tattered brown armchair with a crooked footrest that indicated it didn't go up and down anymore.

Tessa glanced around. The only places left for her to sit were either on a blue-flowered loveseat or a sofa, both of which were covered with heavy plastic protector sheets.

She hesitated, then chose the sofa. When she sat, it creaked and croaked under her weight. Gingerly, she chose a position that wasn’t quite comfortable and then froze, hoping to keep the plastic quiet. It reminded her of visiting her grandmother’s house as a child. She’d never felt relaxed there either.

Too late, Tessa realized her mistake. A simmering pot of liquid potpourri sat bubbling away on an end table inches away from her right elbow, emitting the nearly overpowering Christmas odor. Tessa’s eyes redoubled their effort to protect her from the horrendous scent by watering harder.

"Make yourself comfortable, girl," Mrs. Cross rumbled. "You look like a giraffe trying to sit on its rear end like a dog."

Tessa’s mind helpfully produced a mental image of that colorful description for her, and she laughed. "No, no. I'm not uncomfortable at all. This is just like home. Thanks for inviting me in—um, why did you invite me in, again?"

"I wanted to tell you about our landlord!”

“You did? You do?” Tessa’s already troubled eyes twitched slightly.

“I was listening to the police scanner earlier, and I heard the whole thing. I wouldn’t’ve believed it if I hadn't heard it with my own ears.” She wrinkled her nose, giving Tessa a moment’s hope that she was bothered by the strong odor too and would authorize the bubbler’s unplugging. But she just went on, “Actually, I didn't hear with my own ears. I had to turn my hearing aids way up to catch it. But, even using those cheaters, I know what they said."

Tessa leaned forward so her elbows were resting on her knees. "Really? What did you hear?"

"For one, I heard that my old boss Artemis Green died this morning." She shook her head, and a pink foam curler popped out from under the woman's beige-colored bandanna.

"I'm sorry to hear you lost an, um, employer.”

“Oh, I’d say he was much more than that. I’d say we were friends—as good as one can be with their boss.”

That stung a little. Tessa wanted to believe the dynamic between she and Gloria would stay the same. Granted, she didn’t know what type of work Mrs. Cross did. She doubted it was reaping souls.

“Well, I’m sorry you lost a friend. What happened to him?" Not only did Tessa think it was a good idea to play along with the conversation to keep Mrs. Cross happy, but she was also hoping to figure out what everyone thought Mr. Green might've died from.

"Yes, yes. He and I go way back.” Mrs. Cross disregarded the question, choosing instead to languish in her memories. She sat back in her chair, her voice smoothing out from her usual cackle as she reminisced. “I used to work at his house, you know. I did the cleaning there, and then I was in the kitchen for a while. But I’m horrible in the kitchen, and, out of self-defense for his taste buds, Artemis quickly moved me out to work with horses.”

“They’re gorgeous,” Tessa said offhand, remembering those she’d seen while hiding in the grounds at Artemis’s house. She realized her mistake. “I mean horses in general. I, uh, I love them.”

Mrs. Cross squinted but seemed to believe the quick correction. “Yes. They’re very fine creatures. And Artemis only brought the best specimens into his barn. He never rode himself, but he liked to have them around for his kids and grandkids and their friends. Most of the time, the horses lived like kings, getting the finest food and veterinary care.

“Two wipe-downs every day in the very best brushes. Every once in a while, one of them would get saddled up and ridden for half an hour or so, but the rest of the time, their lives were their own. Anyway, I got to know Artemis pretty well during all that time.”

“You did?”

“While he wasn’t a rider, you could usually find him somewhere near the barn. He loved the outdoors. Plus, I think he just liked to get out of the house, and away from Mrs. Green.”

“Oh?” Tessa leaned in closer. She tried to put her question delicately. “Was she not very nice?”

“It wasn’t like that, dear. She was often sick and bedridden. Some sort of autoimmune disease. Spent her time indoors with her calligraphy. I think it pained Artemis to see her that way.”

“Oh.” Tessa rubbed at her reddening eyes.

“But like I was saying, he loved the outdoors. He and my husband used to play golf every once in a while—Artemis would invite Stanley and pay for everything. He was a very generous man."

"It certainly sounds like it. How long did you work there?"

She pondered the question as though trying to read the answer on an imaginary sheet of paper. “Well. This was years ago. But let’s see. I was in the kitchen for about six months before Sky