Dose Vidanya: SILVER HILLS COZY MYSTERIES, #2

By Sam Cheever

Come to Silver Hills. Where petting a cat can be a death sentence and yoga is all about survival.

 

Silver Hills Senior and Singles Residence isn't exactly a boring place. Home to a death predicting cat named Tolstoy, a night manager who may or may not suck blood and float above the floor, a cook with mad voodoo and pie baking powers, and a trio of nosy sleuths who are determined to get to the bottom of the corpse in the library (maybe literally)…some might say things couldn't get any weirder. Some would be wrong. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Electric Prose Publications
• Release date: Mar 13, 2016
• ISBN: 9781944784676

Sam Cheever

Nobody really cares that Sam Cheever is a USA Today Bestselling Author. Nobody cares that she’s written a whole ton of fun and snappy books. Let’s face it, the most interesting thing about Sam is the fact that she’s a dogaholic. Yeah, there’s no Dogaholic’s Anonymous chapter that can help her. Believe me, she’s looked. So Sam deals with her problem the best way she knows how. She digs into the mountains of personal experiences (mostly involving dog poo) to write GREAT dog characters. Oh, and there are some people in her books too. She’s also pretty good at those. Want to ask Sam about her dogs…erm…books? You can connect with her at one of the following places. Just don’t ask her why she has 16 dogs. Nobody in the whole wide world can answer that. NEWSLETTER: Join Sam's Monthly newsletter and get a FREE book! You can also keep up with her appearances, enjoy monthly contests, and get previews of her upcoming work! http://www.samcheever.com/newsletter.html TEXT NEWS ALERTS: Or if you'd rather not receive a monthly newsletter, you can sign up for text alerts and just receive a brief text when Sam's launching a new release or appearing somewhere fun. Just text SAMNEWS to 781-728-9542 to be added! ONLINE HOT SPOTS: To find out more about Sam and her work, please pay her a visit at any one of the following online hot spots: Her blog: http://www.samcheever.com/blog; Twitter: http://twitter.com/samcheever; and Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/SamCheeverAuthor. She looks forward to chatting with you! She has a technique for scooping poop that she knows you’re just DYING to learn about.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

YOU’RE BEING RIDICULOUS, Flo.

Florence Bee cast her friend Agnes Willard a withering look. I’m not going anywhere near that cat. I know you love him but he’s the Grim Reaper.

Agnes snorted. That’s just superstition. Tolstoy cannot predict death.

The two women peered around the corner again. The huge orange striped cat sat licking his paws in a ray of sunlight that painted the mauve colored carpet. He stopped suddenly, as if sensing their presence and lifted his round green gaze in their direction.

Florence jerked backward, dragging Agnes with her. There are ten dead people who might argue with you about that.

Her friend removed Florence’s bony fingers from her shirt. He’s my cat. I don’t need to hide from him.

Yes you do. If he sees you, he’ll come over here.

And? Agnes lifted a heavy brown eyebrow and placed her hands on wide hips.

And I’m not going to find out what happens next. We don’t know if he kills with a look or if he has to sit on you.

Agnes frowned. Flo, I live with Tolstoy. He looks at me all the time. He sits on my chest when I’m sleeping...

Flo gasped, grabbing Agnes’s wrist and looking at her watch.

What are you doing, fool?

I’m checking your pulse.

Agnes yanked her arm away as a door down the hall opened and a familiar voice spoke to Tolstoy.

Good afternoon, boy.

Tolstoy yowled a greeting and dove through the stairwell door before it closed.

Florence expelled a breath. Good. We can go now.

Shaking her head, Agnes stepped around the corner. She hotfooted it toward Richard Attles, a flirtatious smile on her wide face. Richard! Hello.

Flo rolled her eyes and followed, hoping to avert disaster.

Agnes had been nursing a serious crush on the man since the first day she’d arrived at the residence and had made a fool of herself more times than Flo could count over it.

The day manager of Silver Hills looked up as Agnes plowed toward him, her broad flank swinging energetically as she cut the distance between them.

Judging by the widening of the man’s eyes and the way his head swung from side to side looking for an escape route, Richard Attles was about to do something desperate. When his gaze swung toward the second-floor window at the end of the hall, Flo decided aggressive maneuvers were called for. She pitched sideways with a cry and folded carefully to the ground. As Agnes turned around, Flo grabbed her ankle.

Agnes rushed in her direction and Richard Attles saluted Flo as he dove back into the stairwell.

Are you all right? Agnes put her big hands under Flo’s arms and hefted her off the ground. Flo gave a startled chirp as her feet left the carpet. Agnes rarely knew her own strength.

I’m fine. I think. I just twisted my ankle. She took a step, feigning a limp, and then straightened. There, good as new. Let’s go or we’ll be late to the reading.

Agnes narrowed her gaze at Flo and held her ground. Just like that, your ankle’s better?

Flo took off toward the elevator. I’m a quick healer. She pressed the Up button and the doors slid open with a whir. The two women climbed on board and Agnes stabbed a thick digit at the number three button.

Hold the elevator!

Agnes pressed Hold and peered around the open door to the young woman running lightly down the hall toward them, pressing a paperback to her stomach as she ran. The newcomer tugged a strand of mahogany hair off her face and smiled as she slipped into the elevator. Thanks, ladies. Are you coming to the reading?

Flo nodded. We are. I wouldn’t miss it for the world. I think I’ve figured out who killed Professor Pelt in the sun room.

The doors slid shut and Agnes leaned against the wall at her back, eyeing the green-eyed beauty across from her. I’m waiting for the sex scene. When are we getting to that, TC?

Trisha Colombo shook her head. There’s no sex, Agnes. But there is a sweet romance.

Agnes grimaced. You need to write something steamier, TC. I’m getting diabetes from all that sweetness.

The younger woman’s eyes widened as the doors slid open. Shhhh! I don’t want Richard to know about the writing. It’s against my contract to have a second job.

Agnes frowned. It’s not like writing a book is a job, TC.

TC lifted carefully shaped brows. Have you ever tried it?

Agnes can’t even write a grocery list without breaking every grammar rule in the book, Flo offered. She peered at her friend. Besides, if you’re getting diabetes it’s from all those glazed donuts you eat. Flo punched Agnes on a beefy arm. It was like a tick hitting a rhinoceros, barely even registering.

Agnes glanced at Flo when she rubbed her fist.

I hope you hurt yourself. She gave Flo a mean smile. Good thing you’re a fast healer.

You two are incorrigible, TC told them. I hope I’m not going to have to separate you again.

If you do, Flo said while glaring at her friend, don’t put her near the coffee and cookies. The last time she ate everything but the ones with raisins. Flo bunched her face with distaste. I hate raisins.

Raisins are Satan’s boogers, Agnes agreed.

TC grimaced. Good Lord.

Don’t bring him into this, Flo said with a grin.

Agnes laughed with her. Yeah, he had nothing to do with raisins. He’s chocolate all the way.

The elevator door opened and they stepped out, heading for the Silver Hills library. It was an open, inviting spot settled into a corner of the third floor. Two of the room’s walls consisted of floor-to-ceiling shelves made from dark wood, and every inch of the shelving was filled with books. The outside perimeter was open to the hallways and overlooked the large entrance and dining room two floors below.

Flo loved the library. It was her favorite spot at Silver Hills and she spent as much time there as possible. In fact, it had been her idea for TC, who was the resident activities director, to do the weekly readings. She hadn’t even known at the time that TC actually authored the cozy mysteries she read to about a dozen of the residents at Silver Hills. She’d just known they shared a love of reading.

They were a few minutes early to the reading and only one of the comfortable upholstered chairs was occupied when they approached. Somebody beat us, Flo observed as she eyed the stooped form with his back to them. She didn’t recognize the man from previous readings. Who is that?

TC shrugged. Maybe it’s somebody new.

Agnes picked up the pace. He’s sitting next to the cookies. He’d better not have eaten all the chocolate chip ones.

Flo rolled her eyes at TC and the younger woman smiled. If he did I’ll call Cook and order us some more.

Agnes slowed down from a near sprint and nodded. Good. I need my daily sugar or I’ll drop into a diabetic coma.

You’re no more diabetic than I am, Flo argued.

Says you.

They entered the cool, quiet space and a sense of peace slipped over Flo. She headed for her favorite chair just down from the newcomer, stepping over his very large shoes. Excuse me. The man in the chair didn’t look up from his magazine. Flo eyed the shaggy fringe of dark hair falling over his brow and frowned. Something about the man was familiar. And he appeared to be asleep.

Voices down the hall spurred Flo into action. She quickly forgot the magazine-reading newcomer and hurried to her chair before old Mrs. Peoples stole it out from under her. Their feud over the slightly lumpy armchair had started months earlier, when Flo got up to go to the bathroom and came back to find the nasty old woman sitting like a queen in her chair. Mrs. Peoples had refused to leave, declaring the worn and lumpy chair the finest in the room and since she was the oldest, she proclaimed it should be hers.

Florence hadn’t taken it well and had set out, from that day on, to get to the readings before everyone else and claim the chair. She’d managed to snag the seat away from the crotchety old ninety-year-old woman several times in a row, only missing it the day the woman brought her lunch of prunes and sunflower seeds to the library and stayed until the reading just to rain on Flo’s parade. The cantankerous old woman had to have a bladder the size of her head.

AN HOUR LATER, FLO was holding court near the white chocolate macadamia nut cookies and accepting congratulations for having guessed the killer. I have plans for that twenty bucks too, she told an adoring crowd.

TC, being wise beyond her thirty-some years, had assessed her Bingo-addicted audience on the first day and sweetened the reading pot with a gift certificate for the first one to guess the killer before he or she was revealed. The moment they guessed the killer, the audience had been instructed to write the name, date and time of the guess on one of the small slips of paper which TC left on the table in front of her. TC kept the paper locked in a metal box until she finished the book.

Flo had won enough gift certificates to buy her two grandsons Christmas presents, with enough left over to get her dog, Rodney a bone or two.

You’re really good at this, Flo, old Mrs. Peoples chimed in. Are you sure you’re not cheating?

Flo pasted her best innocent expression on her face, enhancing it with a tinge of irritation. I would never do that, Mrs. Peoples. I’m as honest as the day is long.

Behind Flo’s admirers, Agnes stood with a handful of chocolate chip cookies in one hand and a sneer on her wide face. She blew a messy raspberry and then jerked as cookie crumbs shot out of her face and landed on the back of Mrs. People’s iron-gray beehive.

Flo widened her eyes and Agnes started to giggle.

I’ll email your gift card to you when I get home, Flo.

She looked up at TC. No hurry, dear. You have a nice night, okay?

TC squeezed her arm, said her goodbyes to the room at large, and strode out of the library toward the stairs.

Roger Attles, resident senior hottie and father of the day manager at Silver Hills, walked over and stood next to Flo, fixing her with a serious blue gaze. Would you like some company heading back to your place, doll?

She smiled up at him. No thanks, Roger. But I appreciate the offer. I think Agnes and I are going to run out to the pasta place up the road. Do you want us to bring you something?

He shook his head. Tonight’s meat loaf and lime jello. You couldn’t blast me out of here with dynamite.

They shared a smile and then Roger bent closer, stooping his tall, gangly form so he could look into her eyes. I’ll see you later then, doll.

Flo nodded, watching him amble from the room. He didn’t get far before several other men, all shapes, sizes and ages, caught up with him and the whole wad of trouble slipped into the elevator and disappeared.

Flo glanced at Agnes, who was stuffing cookies into her purse. Come on, Agnes. You’re going to ruin your appetite.

Her friend shook her head but turned away from a nearly empty table. Not a chance. I have a heaping plate of spaghetti and meatballs in my future.

How can you eat so much? Flo moved past her and started for the hall.

I have a lot of muscle. Muscle burns more calories.

Mm-hm. Flo realized with a start that the man with the magazine was still in the chair. She squinted at the magazine. "Is that copy of Better Homes & Gardens upside down?"

Agnes slid the man a look. Yeah. It looks like it is. Huh. Maybe that’s why he’s asleep. He got bored looking at all those strange letters on the page.

Flo stepped closer. I don’t see his chest moving.

You sure?

Flo frowned. Sir?

The man didn’t move.

Flo stepped closer, Agnes right behind her. Um, sir. Are you all right?

Nothing.

She looked at Agnes, her eyes going wide. I think he’s dead.

Agnes took a step back. That’s not possible.

Flo lost patience. When she was stressed she had very little of the stuff. And realizing they’d been sitting and chatting and eating next to a dead body for over an hour made her very stressed. Of course, it’s possible, fool! Do you not watch the show?

Agnes’s jaw tightened and her face formed into a familiar belligerent look that didn’t bode well. Flo’s stress level was about to go higher. Agnes...

But her friend had already stomped past and approached the man with the magazine. She reached out and touched his shoulder. Hey, mister. You need to wake up now.

He didn’t wake up. Agnes glowered down at him.

Seeing the next few moments playing out in her head, Flo took a step closer, her hand stretched toward Agnes. Don’t...

But it was too late. Agnes gave the man’s shoulder a shake and he finally moved. Or rather tipped. Straight out of the chair and onto the footrest a few feet away. He landed on his head with his butt up in the air.

Agnes jumped back with a squeal. He’s dead, Flo!

Flo crossed her arms over her chest. Ya think? She moved closer, and stood looking down at him. I should check his pulse.

Agnes took a big step back and motioned toward the corpse. I’ve got your back.

Yeah. Thanks. Expelling a long breath, Flo sidled over to the body and reached for the arm that was curved in front of him, the magazine still clutched between his fingers. Looks like rigor’s set in, she told Agnes. She placed her fingers on the man’s wrist and felt nothing. Yep. Dead.

Drawn by an incorrigible curiosity, Agnes moved closer, peering past Flo. What do you suppose killed him?

Flo shook her head. I don’t see any holes in his body. She tipped sideways and tried to look at his face. I can’t see if there’s any foam around his mouth...

Foam?

She straightened. Don’t you watch the cop shows? That means he was poisoned.

Agnes shrugged. Or he could have rabies.

Yeah, Agnes. He probably has rabies.

Don’t get all uppity with me Florence Irene Bee. I’m just throwing out helpful suggestions.

Yeah. That was very helpful. Flo put a hand on her hip and eyed the dead guy. We should probably call the police.

We can’t. Not until we know what killed him.

What are you talking about, Agnes?

Once they take the corpse, we won’t be able to get any information. If we’re gonna solve this murder we need to get as much information as we can before they cart him away.

A familiar spark of excitement fizzled in Flo’s chest. You mean like in TC’s books?

Agnes grinned. Yeah. Why not? If TC can solve crimes on paper, we can solve them in real life, right?

Flo’s gaze slid back over the corpse. She thought about Agnes’s proposal for a minute and then nodded. Okay. Let’s do it.

Agnes rubbed her meaty hands together. Great! What should we do first?

We need to get a look at the guy’s face.

They both eyed the upside-down dead guy for a moment before Agnes suggested, Maybe we should tip him back up.

No. We can’t disturb the crime scene.

Technically tipping him back up would be more like preserving the crime scene, since he kind of fell over when I touched him ever so gently.

Flo lifted a brow. Mm-hm. You’ve done enough damage to my crime scene, Agnes Willard. We’re not moving him again.

"Your crime scene! Agnes crossed her arms. Okay, then what do you suggest, Miss CSU?"

Flo eyed the dead guy up and down and then dropped to her knees. I’ll just crawl under him and take a gander at his face. She glanced up at her friend. Bring that lamp over here and shine it under him so I can see better.

Flo got down on her back and scooted until she was underneath the dead guy.

Holding the small table lamp down so