The Trouble with Mattie: The Mattie Mitchell Mystery Series, #1

By Mary A. Berger

Take a crooked housing project run by sharks, a greedy stepdaughter, throw in a little romance, add a bunch of quirky characters, and you have the makings for an hilarious first cozy mystery, The Trouble with Mattie.  Set in the hills of western North Carolina, The Trouble with Mattie is the story of the youthful, dynamic, and comical (nosy) Mattalie Morgan, whose antics will press every emotional button you possess.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Escarpment Press
• Release date: Apr 24, 2016
• ISBN: 9781533739582

Book preview

The

Trouble

with

Mattie

––––––––

by

Mary A. Berger

The Trouble with Mattie

by

Mary A. Berger

Copyright  © 2010 Mary A. Berger

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Second Edition

Design and formatting by Joe Perrone Jr.

Escarpment Press

Hendersonville, NC

This is a work of fiction.  Names, places, characters, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form or means, either in print or electronically, without the express permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations for the purpose of promotion.

Dedication

In loving memory of my parents,

Belle and Fred Willet

Acknowledgments

Many thanks to my husband, Ralph, and my daughters, Jodi and Becky, who keep me supplied with one-liners.

Randy Romeo, attorney at law; Ron Roberts, my computer guy; and to Joe Perrone Jr, who edited and designed my book and its cover.

Table of Contents

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

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 1

Mattie Morgan bolted down the dimly lit hallway at Autumn Leaves Rooming House.  The swish, swish of her purple jogging suit kept rhythm with each step.  At the room of her pal, Clare, she pounded on the door.  Clare, open up, the middle-aged Mattie insisted.  It’s me, Mattie.

Wearing a muumuu so colorful it looked as if it ran on batteries, a tall, thin woman opened the door.  With cheeks of blush spotlights and hair the color of flames, she stood in sharp contrast to Mattie’s petite frame, natural beauty, and dishwater blonde hair.  The hair allowed a single strand of curl to sometimes fall loose over one eye.

Unruffled, Clare greeted her.  Don’t tell me, you found us a suite at the Radisson.

Yeah, right—complete with two servants and a chauffeur.  Mattie brushed her off with a wave of her hand.  Clare, we’ve got a problem.  She whisked by and plunked into Clare’s favorite—and only—lounge chair.

Come in, Clare said with open sarcasm, closing the door.  Make yourself comfortable.

Mattie ignored the barb and took a deep breath.  Those bullies who supposedly run this place threatened to kick Salina Shaw out.

Clare sat on a footstool opposite Mattie, frowning.  How come?

She was going to make waves about them, what a bunch of crooks they are.  But Salina called their bluff.  She moved out in the middle of the night.  Went to her sister’s up in Virginia.  And that snake, Mr. Reemes, has already leased her room.

Clare propped one hand on a hip.  That’s kinda ballsy.

Mattie picked at a few loose strands of thread on the arm of the chair.  "The way Reemes and his flunkies ignore us and hop from one resort to

Another makes my blood boil.  Glancing at Clare, she quipped, Is murder still illegal?"

Maybe not in Detroit, Clare said.  She looked her friend in the eye.  There’s something wrong with the entire set-up here, Mattie.  Sometimes it scares me.

"Hey, if you’re frightened, think how the others must feel.  Mattie’s brow tightened.  So how’d you ever wind up here?"

Money.  Or lack of it.  Clare stared out the window.  I never thought I’d find myself in such a miserable place.

Well, I’ve only been here a couple weeks, said Mattie, sitting erect, "but I am so tired of it.  And you should be tired of it too.  Everyone should.  Come on, Clare.  Help me think of some way we can stage a protest, pleeeze?"  Mattie’s brow rose, almost pleading, above her slate blue eyes, an acquired expression she conjured up now and then.

Not the eyes, Mattie.  Clare held one hand out in front of her.  Don’t give me those eyes.  And don’t go dragging me into another one of your causes.

Enjoying a mild sense of victory, Mattie nodded toward the backyard.  You mean the Frisbee toss?  Wasn’t it fun?  Got everybody off his or her rear ends too, she added with a touch of pride.

Yes, but we almost lost our gagateria privileges that day.

Our what?

Gagateria.  You know, the cafeteria—the dining room.

Mattie scoffed.  Big deal.  That so-called dining room has as much appeal as a cave.

Yeah, and there’s a rumor that the cook even adds dog food to the meals to make them go farther.

Eeew, Mattie squealed.  That’s gross.

Clare shrugged.  When we start barking, I’ll start worrying.

Mattie shook her head.  I’d call out for pizza for my next meal—if there was somewhere around to call, she added dryly.  She popped out of the chair.  Getting back to our problem, if I come up with something I’ll let you know.

Back in her sparsely decorated room with its tiny kitchen, sturdy old table, two chairs, recliner, and the lonely little bed, Mattie stood before an open window sipping sweet tea.  Her thoughts turned to that awful day when she’d first arrived at Autumn Leaves—and the misery she had endured, thanks to her scheming stepdaughter, Eva.

Chapter 2

. . . I’m not going, Mattie was telling her stepdaughter, with a scowl that might have intimidated the devil himself.

But, Mother Mattie, we agreed, the dark-haired woman at the wheel of the shiny new black Lincoln protested.  At your age, a rooming house like Autumn Leaves is the best place for you.  Her green eyes, usually narrow and chilling, grew large with phony enthusiasm.  Even Dr. Evans thinks so.

"Dr. Evans? Mattie came back.  I wouldn’t let him work on my dead dog!"

But Autumn Leaves is such a wonderful place.

Besides, Mattie continued, on a roll then, "I’m not that old!  Middle-aged does not imply old and senile.  And I’m certainly not ready for some idiotic rooming house.  And, no, we didn’t agree to this.  I was told."

But in a nice way.

Mattie let out a snort.  Her mouth formed a stubborn pout as she slumped back into the seat.  "I’m not going.  So don’t be patronizing me, Eva Morgan.  Anyone in his right mind could see what you’ve been up to.  Your father passes on, and I get laid up with a broken foot and then that deadly flu that put me in the hospital.  And before I know it, you find a loophole—or something just as sneaky—in your dad’s estate papers and pull a stunt that steals everything out from under me!"

Eva didn’t respond.

Mattie sighed, fighting back tears of rage.  You know as well as I that there was a new will, Eva.  I signed it myself.  And it’s just a matter of time before they catch up with that imbecile lawyer you’re running around with.  Scowling, Mattie slumped back in the seat and stared out the car window.  Some stepdaughter you turned out to be.  If I had any sense, I’d wrap this cane right around your —

Mother Mattie!

Don’t call me that.  Makes my blood boil, what’s left of it.  Mattie fingered her cane—a temporary aid to help her get around since her hospital stay—and continued, barely able to control the venom swirling inside.  "I feel like a basket case, going off to some wishy-washy tenement, while you’re living off the money from my house!"  She gripped the cane even tighter.

You get an allowance, Eva snapped, a smirk crossing her tight face.

Scraps, you mean.  Mattie sighed again, shook her head, and clutched her purse to her chest.  She’d certainly been taken to the cleaners while overcoming her illness, but her mind now was sharp as a blade.  Beneath her blonde hair were tender blue eyes that could turn to bolts of lightning. 

Mattie was known for spouting off, mostly because she enjoyed watching the guilty party squirm.  And lately she’d resorted to using the new cane when she felt it appropriate to make a point.

After another discouraging sigh, she stared at the kudzu and mountain laurel and rolling hills of some place called Farley Gap that passed by outside the car window.  Far from anywhere, out in the hills of western North Carolina, she wondered how many more twists and turns there could be before they reached the godforsaken rooming house.  And why was it so far away from everything?

Thoughts of her late husband, Gabe, filled her mind.  They’d had only a short time together—three years to be exact—before he and Mattie sold their lovely restored English Tudor home up north and moved to their new rental condo in North Carolina.  But then, without his pension, Mattie had little to live on except for a small income she received from her work at the landscaping company.  It was not exactly the way she and Gabe had planned.

And the caring Eva, with the help of her new lawyer pal, had seen to it that she herself ended up as the sole heir to Gabe’s estate.  So Mattie was more or less forced to give up the condo—for the time being at least.  That’s when Eva had helped make arrangements for Autumn Leaves.  Just for now, she’d told Mattie with a poisonous smile.

Mattie gave another sigh.  Her thoughts returned once more to those precious years with Gabe.  They had been good ones, in spite of her stepdaughter.

Eva interrupted her thoughts.  Don’t go to sleep on me now.  We’re almost there.

I’ll gladly sleep through it, Mattie muttered.  As for Eva, Gabe’s only offspring, she more or less came with the package when Gabe and Mattie were married.  Thanks to Gabe’s first wife, a spineless, mousy woman, Eva had been and still was a selfish, manipulating person.  Even though Mattie had tried her best to get along with her, they always seemed to be squabbling.

Eva slowed the car and steered into a wide gravel drive.  Fear and anxiety welled up inside Mattie, then turned to total foreboding when they pulled in next to the front walk of a faded, sprawling, and Low Country structure.

A dry marble fountain stood in the front yard, flanked by two rusty wrought iron benches.  Beyond that, a great magnolia spread its branches high above a yard of weeds, and a couple of broken-down lawn chairs sat in the middle.  In the distance, Mattie noticed a stream that disappeared into some far off woods.  Beyond that, she could see layers of the Blue Ridge Mountains where the distinctive profile of Mount Pisgah appeared.  She swallowed hard.

And remember, Eva was promising, I’ll come visit you every week.

I’ll bet, Mattie muttered with a snort.  She’d heard about the month in the Caribbean Eva had already planned—secretly, or so Eva thought.  Mattie sighed in disgust.  It was all happening too fast.  If only her wonderful Gabe were still around, everything would be all right.  She took a tissue from her purse and turned away to dab her eyes while Eva shut off the engine.

So this is it? Mattie asked.  You call this wonderful?  She read aloud from a faded sign that hung lopsided over the entrance.  Autumn Leaves Rooming House - for Those in Need.  Eva glared while Mattie exploded.  "Autumn Leaves!  Think they’ll rake me up and toss me into a leaf bag this fall?"

Very funny, Eva hissed.  Well, you better like it—your rent’s paid for a year.

Gee, thanks.

My, um, friend thought it was best.

Your ‘guilty conscious’ friend, you mean?

Seething, Eva climbed out of the car, went around on Mattie’s side and yanked open the door, a kindness which Mattie was sure Eva demonstrated only when someone might be watching.

A man wearing a white medical coat and blue jeans appeared through the double doors.  He strutted toward them like he owned the place.  He and Eva greeted each other.  Mattie rolled her eyes, especially with Eva’s gushing enthusiasm.

’Afternoon, Miz Morgan, the man drawled as Mattie got out of the car.  It’s wonderful having you with us.

Yeah, yeah, Mattie grumbled, waving him off.  She had to stand in place just long enough for that unsteady foot to become stabilized.  The medic tried slipping an arm around her shoulder.

"If you don’t mind, she said, pulling away, I can get around by myself.  Just give me a moment."

But the persistent man tried to lift her.  And carry her.

Freeing herself from his grasp, Mattie drew back the cane and dealt a solid whack to his shinbone.  Outta my way! she barked.

Amid cries of outrage, the medic hopped about on one foot while cupping the injured leg with his hand.  Oblivious, Mattie simply headed off on her own.

At a loss for words, Eva stayed behind to apologize and assist the man.

Hello, a friendly voice said.  Mattie glanced up to see a young, attractive aide approaching.  Her large brown eyes peeked out from long, dark hair.  You must be Mrs. Morgan.  I’m Lauren Shaw.  Her warm smile widened, even though she kept an eye on Mattie’s cane.

After a moment, Mattie said, I like you, and she offered her arm to the girl.  Let’s get this over with.

The two of them strolled inside past some of the residents who’d gathered to see what all the commotion was.  Eva, in her own awkward way, brought up the rear. 

Pinhead, Mattie muttered in her stepdaughter’s direction.

Once inside, Lauren introduced Mattie to Mr. Bates, the center’s Marketing Director.  Mattie chuckled to herself at the idea of a dreary rooming house like this claiming the need for a Marketing Director.

Mr. Bates extended his hand.  Mattie firmed her grip on the cane.

It’s a pleasure, Mrs. Morgan, he said with a slight smile.

Her voice little more than a whisper, she asked, Mr. Bates, are you in charge here?

Well, yes.  Partly.  Mr. Bates also kept one eye on her cane as he spoke.  And I’d like to personally welcome you to —

Exactly what kind of place is this?  Mattie started.  The front yard looks like a bad cemetery and this building reminds me of a tomb!  Why not simply call it End of the Road Burial Grounds?  Harold Bates drew back when Mattie threw out the next question: "Where are the inspectors?"

She caught the quick glance between Mr. Bates and Lauren, even though the question went unanswered.  Regardless, she seemed to take a liking to Harold Bates, so she softened her grip on the cane.

Lauren spoke.  Mrs. Morgan, why don’t I show you to your room?

Slumping, Mattie said, Yes, that probably would be a good idea.  I need to get out of these shoes.  And I could use a cup of tea.

A look of relief filled Mr. Bates’ face.  I think we can arrange that.

Eva and the wounded medic arrived on the scene.  Her face flushed with rage when she spotted Mattie.  The look softened when she caught sight of Mr. Bates.

"Mr. Bates.  Harold, she gushed with a silly laugh.  How nice to see you again."  She placed one hand on his arm while an embarrassed blush crept up his neck.  Mattie chuckled to herself.

The angry medic turned to Harold Bates.  Look at this! he spouted, hiking up his jeans.  A good-sized welt appeared on his leg from Mattie’s assault.  We can’t tolerate this sort of thing, Mr. Bates, he said, glaring at Mattie.  What d’you think should we do?

Harold Bates leaned forward and eyed the injury with sympathy.  You might try using some ice.

Without further word, Mattie and Lauren wandered off together.  Eva followed behind, flinging the tails of her imitation furs over a shoulder and faltering while trying to walk in high heels.

A new commander took charge at Autumn Leaves as Eva began issuing orders right and left to anyone in sight, even Lauren.  Well, don’t just stand there, Eva, scolded her.  Get busy.  Lauren ignored her and remained in place.

With a sniff of resignation, Eva turned to Mattie.  Now, Mother Mattie—dear, she said as they stood together at the door to Mattie’s room.  "This is