Bamboozled: Mah Jongg Mysteries, #2

By Barbara Barrett

Despite all the healthful benefits of essential oils, they can't prevent the murder of distributor, Dorcas Wiley, nor keep Cathy Broderick, one of her team members, from being arrested as her killer. Fortunately, Cathy plays mah jongg with Sydney Bonner and her three cronies—Marianne, Micki and Kat—who recently helped catch the culprit in another homicide. Though Cathy hires a top-notch defense attorney who can bring in professional investigators, she wants her friends to get involved.

 

But Syd was nearly killed in her previous adventure. She's content to leave crime-solving to the authorities until Cathy's husband prevails upon Syd and her husband, Trip, to give his wife some peace of mind by checking out the key suspects on their own. To Syd's surprise, Trip agrees, figuring if they work as a team, he can protect her this time. But Trip sees teamwork as inserting his thoughts and questions even when she has the floor, until Syd must finally put him in his place.

 

Despite the ups and downs of their investigation, daily life with its own challenges and drama still goes on in their central Florida town of Serendipity Springs. With the support of her friends, including the sheriff, who has taken a personal interest in her, Kat deals with the early stages of breast cancer. Trip attempts to plan a repositioning cruise. Micki faces her ex ten years after their divorce. Fortunately, the foursome has their weekly game of mah jongg to maintain their sanity.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Barbara Barrett
• Release date: May 31, 2021
• ISBN: 9781948532044

Barbara Barrett

Barbara Barrett is a Midwestern woman who prefers her winters without snow or ice. Since her retirement, she spends her winters in Florida and returns to Iowa for her summers (which can get just as hot and humid as Florida at times). After graduating from college with a B.A. and M.A. degree in History, she spent several years as a human resources management analyst for the State of Iowa studying jobs and working with employees. She is married to the man she met in floor counselor training at the University of Iowa. They have two grown children and eight grandchildren. When not planted in front of her laptop, she is playing mah jongg, having lunch with friends or watching cooking or interior decoration shows on TV. Sign up for her newsletter: https://www.subscribepage.com/BBContempRom Website: www.barbarabarrettbooks.com Email: [e-mail] Twitter: http://twitter.com/bbarrettbooks Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/barbarabarrett7/

Book preview

1

Julie Poindexter dumped the mah jongg tiles from her rack onto the middle of the table. The clatter echoed throughout the game room of the Serendipity Springs community center. I haven’t won a game all afternoon. My leg aches so much, it’s affecting my concentration.

Good excuse. Across the table, Micki Demetrius tipped her mane of shoulder-length dark hair to one side, the one streak of silver she allowed herself prominent.

Excuse or not, it’s killing me.

Marianne Putnam, a redhead going gray, leaned toward her. Have you taken something for it? Not that I mind winning the last two games, but no one should have to suffer.

Julie nodded. About two hours ago I took a pain pill. Doesn’t seem to have worked.

I’ve got something you might want to try, Cathy Broderick said from the next table. It’s an essential oil that addresses a number of maladies, including body aches.

Careful, Julie. Cathy’s trolling for business, Micki warned, her tone only half kidding. Every time one of us sneezes or coughs, she pulls out one of her little bottles.

Sydney Bonner, on Julie’s left, flipped the discarded tiles face down to start the next game. Don’t trash it till you’ve tried it. I bought a bottle for Trip last winter in hopes of reducing the number of colds he contracted. Imagine, we live in the heart of Florida, and he still winds up sneezing and coughing several times every year.

I remember you telling me he only had one cold last winter, Cathy reminded her while she dug in her bag. She withdrew a small brown bottle. Here, Julie. Try this. Just a drop right where it aches.

Julie raised the hem of her capris above her knee and applied the oil to the affected area. I’ve seen this stuff advertised but never used it before. But at this point, I’ll try anything.

Play resumed, and Julie continued to rub her thigh, although after a bit, her ministrations slowed. Fifteen minutes later, she turned around to Cathy. Your oil worked miracles. I’d like to buy a bottle. Whether it was psychosomatic or the substance performed as predicted, Julie seemed convinced.

Sure. I have some with me. It’s lavender. I’ll get you a bottle as soon as we’re finished.

As play ended, Micki observed the two women chatting across the room. Sometimes I think we should outlaw doing business during our weekly game.

Julie was in pain. Cathy simply responded, Sydney replied, rising to her full five feet ten. Why does this transaction bother you? How many times has someone else brought their kids’ cookies or candies here to peddle or sold raffle tickets for some charity during a game?

Micki gathered her things to leave. Those weren’t someone’s business, like that oil.

And the sale wasn’t conducted until we were done, Marianne added, joining them.

What if someone wanted to ask you about doing a freelance article for them? Would you tell them to call you later or would you discuss it then and there? Sydney asked.

Micki took a moment to consider. That would be different. No money would be exchanged.

What would be the difference? Marianne wanted to know. You’d still be conducting business.

Micki released a huff but didn’t reply and didn’t speak while the three walked out of the community center to their cars. Before they parted, Marianne halted and turned to her. I’ve never heard you complain like this before, Mick. What’s going on?

Nothing, Micki replied a little too fast.

Sydney touched her friend’s forearm. Want to get coffee? I’m supposed to meet Trip at the carpet store in a half hour, but I can be late.

Micki shook her head. Not necessary. I’m fine. It’s just that … 

Let’s go, Marianne said, taking Micki’s arm and leading her toward her own car.

Five minutes later, they were ensconced at a table at the back of their favorite coffee shop in the heart of Serendipity Springs, Marianne keeping Micki company while Sydney placed their order.

Is this about Kat? Marianne asked before Sydney returned. It’s only a routine test. She told us not to worry.

Katarina Kat Faulkner usually completed their foursome at mah jongg and most of their other activities, but today she was at a clinic getting a mammogram after having discovered a lump in her right breast.

Micki grimaced. She’s been on my mind, yes, but no, this is something else.

Sydney returned. What something else?

Micki glanced across the shop, straightened her jacket, then picked up a packet of artificial sweetener and twiddled it. It’s my ex, Iggy. Seems he’s coming to town soon and wants to see me.

Sydney and Marianne both leaned in closer. Did he say why? Sydney asked.

Not exactly. Just that there’s something he’s been meaning to talk to me about.

How long since you’ve seen him? Marianne asked.

Micki rubbed her chin. I don’t remember. Probably not since the divorce ten years ago. Now, out of the blue, he wants to meet.

Sydney left the table momentarily to pick up the coffees. Did he give any indication what he wanted to talk about? she asked when she returned.

Micki studied her cup before replying. Not really. He sent an email rather than call. He didn’t even give a date. Just said it looked like he’d be in the area briefly sometime in the next few weeks and hoped I might be available to see him because he had something he needed to discuss with me.

Marianne stirred her brew, then set it back on the table to cool. Do you plan to see him?

Micki shrugged. I haven’t decided. We didn’t part on good terms. He’s made no attempt to contact me since, except through his attorney for a few items related to our taxes. I’ve certainly kept my distance from him, although I’ve heard things from friends over the years.

Is that what’s bothering you? Sydney wanted to know. You can’t decide whether or not to see him?

Micki blew out a sigh. My better sense tells me to refuse to go anywhere near that man. He had a way of sucking me into needless arguments that I want to avoid at all costs now that I’m free of him. But there’s one detail that never got resolved. If that’s what he’s got in mind, we need to address it. The problem is, I’m not sure that’s what it is, and until and unless I discover that’s it, I’m loath to say yes to this meeting.

Can’t you ask him what he wants to talk about? Marianne asked, her blue eyes intense.

I already have. He said he’d rather not get into it until we were face to face. Real cagey, just like him.

Sydney, the most decisive in the group, set down her cup. There you have it. If he can’t be more informative than that, you refuse to see him.

Micki’s shoulders collapsed. I wish it were that simple, Syd. I’ve been meaning to do something about my issue for some time but kept putting it off because I couldn’t stand the thought of coming in contact with the man again. She turned to Marianne. I’d never even heard the term ‘emotional abuse’ until I finally saw a counselor about my marriage. What that man did to my self-confidence and emotional health was a crime.

Marianne sought out Sydney for a clue how to respond, then wound up patting Micki’s hand. You’ve shared that much before but never really explained what you meant.

Not that you have to now, Sydney quickly added. Only if it would help you decide what to do in this current circumstance.

Micki sipped her coffee. It’s time.

Okay, shoot, Marianne said.

Sydney checked her watch. If we play our cards right, Marianne, and stick around here a bit longer, our husbands will have left for their golf dinner.

Marianne returned a wicked smile. All the more reason to hear you out.

Micki shifted position, folded her hands in her lap. You both know me as an independent, modern woman, but that hasn’t always been the case. When I graduated from college, all I wanted to do was teach English. I got a dream job in a private high school in a rather posh New Jersey suburb. I had a social life and dated occasionally.

Marianne nodded. Right, you’ve told us before.

I’ve also told you how I met Ignacio Demetrius at the horse races. How I’d gone with a friend on a lark and literally ran into Iggy when I was on my way to the restroom and he was returning from placing a bet. That meeting was a harbinger of our life together: While I attended to life needs, like earning a living and maintaining a household, he was busy with the horses.

I’m surprised you put up with him as long as you did, Sydney said.

Micki stirred her coffee. So am I, when I look back on our time together now. But he had me under his spell. I can’t believe I’m characterizing it that way, but that’s how it was. I knew he was gambling away our money, but I accepted it, covered for him on more than one occasion when he’d skipped out on some job. He was a great … lover. His antics in bed could make me forget his misdeeds, at least until the next time he screwed up.

Uh, too much information. Could we move ahead to what has you concerned about his visit? Sydney pressed.

Oh, right. His mother had cancer. When she was told she only had a few months left to live, she came to see me. Alone. She made sure Iggy wouldn’t be there. She gave me a couple pieces of jewelry that would have come to Iggy after her death. She was afraid he’d pawn them as soon he got his hands on them, and she wanted me, or more to the point, any children we might produce, to inherit them. She told me they weren’t worth much, but they had sentimental value for her.

Let me guess, Sydney cut in. You didn’t declare them in the settlement.

Micki lowered her head. It’s not like I intentionally hid them from Iggy. I took his mother at her word and hid them so well, even I forgot about them. For years. I didn’t find them again until I was going through an old coat I no longer needed here in Florida. I’d sewn them into the lining. Almost missed them. By then, we’d been divorced for years. There were no offspring who would have otherwise received them. I knew I should contact Iggy, but I was afraid he’d hold this late notification against me and use my action to get more money from me.

Do you think he somehow learned about this jewelry and that’s why he wants to see you? Marianne asked.

Micki raised her hands to emphasize her dilemma. I don’t see how he could have, unless she left him a note of some sort. But she died years ago. If he’s known all this time, why hasn’t he mentioned the jewelry until now?

Then it must be something else, Sydney said.

Maybe. But I have no idea what, Micki replied. That’s why I can’t decide whether or not to see him. I’ve paid that man my last dollar. I’d like to get this jewelry off my conscience. But I don’t want to run the chance of his using it against me.

I think you should see him, Marianne volunteered. Find out what he wants. You wouldn’t have to say anything. Just hear him out so you know what you’re up against.

Sydney’s face wrinkled. I’m not so sure. Perhaps if he put his concerns in writing beforehand, she could determine how safe it would be to meet with him.

Great. The two of you are split on this. So it’s still up to me to decide.

Syd has a point. Ask him to send his concerns to you so you can decide whether to meet. And if you do decide to see him in person, you still don’t have to comment.

You’re not convinced, are you? Marianne said.

It’s not that I disagree with you two. It’s just that … 

You want to run this by Kat also, Sydney surmised.

Micki chuckled. You know me too well. She took their hands in hers. I love you both, you know that. But I need Kat’s take on this before deciding. I hope you understand?

Of course we do, Marianne reassured her. Do you want us to go with you to see her?

Micki grabbed her purse. Let’s see how her appointment went first. I don’t want to lay this on her when her mind may be elsewhere.

2

Sydney waved goodbye to Marianne and Micki and took off for home. It was a little after six. Still about three hours before Trip returned. Three beautiful hours to enjoy her house on her own, even though she now had Micki’s problem on her mind.

She loved Trip dearly, but after three years, he still seemed to be finding himself. That’s how women of her generation used to describe their emotional upheavals after their children were in school and their husbands were focused on their jobs. Every time Trip went off to one of his all-men events, he came home with some new idea of how he could contribute to the community.

Before she knew it, her three hours were up and her handsome, tall husband was joining her in the kitchen. Coffee? At this hour? he asked, pulling out a chair.

Huh? Oh, right. Thought it would help me stay awake until you got home. Not really. She’d been so preoccupied considering Micki’s dilemma, she hadn’t paid attention to what she was imbibing.

His gray eyes studying her, he leaned across the table and took her hand. That’s sweet, hon. There must be something on your mind as well, since I’ve never known you to wait up for me. You savor these early evenings, when you can take a hot shower and curl up in bed with either a book or TV show.

Since when had he gotten so observant? You got me. Micki’s ex is apparently coming to town and wants to see her. She’s debating whether to agree.

That’s what’s got you staying up late? Either she does or she doesn’t. Nothing you can do about it. She considered herself a no-nonsense type of woman, but that didn’t prevent her husband from sharing his own logical thoughts, even when they mirrored hers.

You’re right. Time to change the subject. So, how was your dinner?

Same old chicken and rice, but still delicious. But you meant what gossip did I hear. Before I go into that, how would you feel about seeing Barcelona?

Like in Barcelona, Spain? We’ve never been there. It would be fun. But why do I get the impression there’s more to this?

Though he raised a white eyebrow, his expression didn’t change. There is, but it just gets better. We wouldn’t be making this trek alone. Several of our friends would be joining us.

Oh? Why is that? A thought struck her, and she sat forward. Trip, are you arranging a special party for our anniversary? It is our thirty-fifth this year.

His face seemed to close in on itself. Uh, no. But you know, that’s a great idea. We could put together a shindig of sorts while we’re there.

An anniversary surprise would have been great. She tried not to grate her teeth. Perhaps you should tell me the rest.

He pushed his chair away from the table and leaned against the sink across the room. We’d be taking a fourteen-day repositioning cruise. You know? The kind where companies move their ships across the Atlantic for new ports of call for part of the year. The ship visits a couple ports along the way, and Barcelona could be the final destination, although there are others we could select. We’d fly home.

A cruise? Trip had pooh-poohed the idea when she brought it up months ago, saying he preferred not to share his meals with two thousand other diners. I didn’t think you were a very big fan of cruises. What’s different about this one? A tiny light went on inside her head, but she refused to acknowledge it. Surely Trip had something else in mind?

A few of us at my table got to talking about the rising cost of travel, and someone pointed out how ocean cruises could be discounted if so many people traveled as a group. Which led to a discussion of the places we each would visit, if the price wasn’t prohibitive. A repositioning cruise rose to the top, because these are inexpensive.

Uh-huh. So how did this hypothetical talk enter the realm of reality?

Trip didn’t answer. Instead, he sought out a glass in the cupboard and stuck it under the tap.

Trip? What aren’t you telling me?

Well, uh, a date hasn’t been determined yet, but it will be sometime that doesn’t interfere with golf events, although we already decided to include others outside the club, so we have enough to get the best discount.

Okay? Both points make sense. What else?

He sipped his water. Slowly. The entire glass was empty before he replied. Your husband was the unanimous choice to plan this junket. He forced a smile, then waited for her reaction.

She knew it! That little light in her head was rarely wrong. Plan, uh-huh. What exactly does that mean?

Easy-peasy. I just have to pick the cruise line and the voyage.

She loved how this man could make something so complicated sound so simple. But for now, she’d play along. How many repositioning cruises are there? There can’t be that many.

That’s my first order of business tomorrow. Start my research. Oh, I forgot the best part. We get our room free, if so many parties subscribe.

And there was the incentive. Trip was far from being frugal—in other words, cheap—but he’d also been raised to recognize a bargain when he saw one, same as she, and the thought of free travel must have been too much to resist. She’d do a little research on her own to find out just how many parties had to subscribe before that free room became a reality. On the other hand, she’d always wanted to visit Barcelona as well as other spots in the western Atlantic that were probable ports of call, so Trip’s new project promised a lot of fun. Still, very few things were really free; there was a catch somewhere in this endeavor. How long before it would make an appearance?

Trip joined her at the table. Almost forgot. Art Broderick was at my table. Says you know his wife. She plays mah jongg with you?

Cathy, right. Yes, I know her, although I don’t play with her very often.

She apparently went and got herself an outside job without discussing it with him first.

Like agreeing to plan a cruise before running the idea past one’s wife? That’s right. She sells essential oils.

Whatever she’s doing, he’s concerned. Says it’s making her a bundle of nerves. She doesn’t sleep well and bursts into tears at the slightest provocation.

That doesn’t sound like the Cathy I saw just yesterday. She offered to let Julie Poindexter use one of her oils when Julie complained about leg aches.

Oils, huh. Art said something about ‘this oily business’ ruining his marriage.

In those words? Doesn’t sound like something you guys would share with each other, at least on such a casual basis.

"Well, yeah, he didn’t exactly say ‘ruining.’ That’s my interpretation. He said she’s changed since she started her business. She loves selling and showing off her product, but every time she attends a business meeting or some such get-together, she comes home

Reviews for Bamboozled

[cyderry · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Cathy Broderick, essential oils salesperson, plays Mah Jongg with Sydney and her friends, Micki, Kat, and Marianne, so when her distributor is found murdered and Cathy seems the prime suspect, her Mah Jongg friends are enlisted to prove her innocence. Sydney's and Marianne's spouses are also drawn into the investigation since they are not happy about their wives' involvement. Kat has been dating the homicide detective but when she finds out that she has breast cancer she has put a halt to their relationship. Howeve4r, the Mah Jongg ladies need some info from the detective and Kat is enlisted to manage the end of their case.The regular characters are very true to life but the other secondary characters that are suspects seem very two dimensional. Nevertheless, I enjoyed these wacky lqadies and how they support each other whether it be investigating or just a supportive friend.