Words With Friends (Angie Gomez Cozy Murder Mystery, Book 3)

By Ines Saint

Murder and Lies Bring Angie Closer to Truth in Words with Friends, a Murder Mystery by Ines Saint

Secrets can be deadly, even among friends.

When two old friends of Angie’s are found dead, Angie knows the murders are related to her parents’ case and that her friends knew more than they were letting on. If she solves their murders, she’ll finally learn who killed her parents.

But first, she needs to figure out whether Lieutenant Mahoney is her friend or if she’s in for another betrayal. Unfortunately, her confused feelings for him keep getting in the way of her instincts, and nobody appears to be who they say they are.

Angie needs every friend, along with her unique family power, to help her figure out who she can trust, decode new clues, and outrun spies, from Ohio to Puerto Rico.

Publisher’s Note: Readers who enjoy cozy mysteries with a touch of humor, romance, and the paranormal will appreciate the Angie Gomez Murder Mystery series. Stories contain mild profanity and no explicit sex and can be enjoyed by readers 13 and up.

“Abuela and her card reading...a delicious piece of the story.” ~Andra Maguran

The Angie Gomez Murder Mystery Series are best enjoyed in order:
Last Words
Word Games
Words with Friends
Motive

About the Author
Ines Saint was born in Zaragoza, Spain, and grew up with one foot on an island of Puerto Rico and the other in the States. She’s bilingual and bicultural and has spent the last eighteen years raising her fun, inspiring boys and sharing her life with her husband/best friend/biggest fan. Her greatest joys are spending quality time with family and close friends, traveling, reading feel-good historical fiction, hiking, and snuggling next to her dog, Hobbit.

• Language: English
• Publisher: ePublishing Works
• Release date: Sep 5, 2023
• ISBN: 9781644573266

Ines Saint

Ines Saint was born in Zaragoza, Spain and grew up with one foot on an island of Puerto Rico and the other in the States. She’s bilingual and bicultural and has spent the last eighteen years raising her fun, inspiring boys and sharing her life with her husband/best friend/biggest fan. Her greatest joys are spending quality time with family and close friends, traveling, reading feel-good historical fiction, hiking, and snuggling next to her dog, Hobbit.

Book preview

ONE

Tomorrow is a new day. To withdraw is not to run away… It is the part of a wise man to keep himself today for tomorrow.

MIGUEL DE CERVANTES SAAVEDRA, DON QUIXOTE

Knock. Knock.

Grrr. Sniff.

Silence.

Knock… KNOCK… KNOCK.

"Arf! Arf!"

My eyes blinked open and lazily took in the black dresser and blue wall in front of me. It took my brain a second to remember that my kitchen had blown up, I was unsafe at my house, and I was staying in Anthony’s spare bedroom in the carriage house behind my new employer, River’s Bend Funeral Home. And Anthony didn’t skimp on the mattresses. I snuggled in deeper and closed my eyes again.

KNOCK! Bang. BANG. BANG!

"ARF! ARF! ARF‍—"

"Anthony! The door! Tito is trying to sleep!" I half-groaned, but a squint at the clock on the dresser showed me it was a little after ten in the morning. I sat up, and the abrupt action made my stomach churn. It felt like I was hungover, but I hadn’t indulged since Abuela Luci doubled the rum in her Coquito recipe last Christmas.

As my head and stomach settled, bits and pieces of the previous night flashed through my mind. Lieutenant Mahoney and I were poisoned with devil’s breath and kidnapped. I had new suspicions about my dad’s amber pendant and how it could have led to my parents’ murders. Mahoney and I kissed. And now, judging by the sunlight streaming in through the sheer silver-gray curtains, tomorrow was here, and it would be a scorcher.

I pushed a few strands of long, messy brown hair out of my eyes and leaned over to pick up my phone. The name of the director of the after-school program I worked for on Mondays stood out among the missed calls and texts. I fell back onto my pillow with a heavy heart.

Some of the kids we taught had heard about my kidnapping during the late-night local news and wanted to make sure I was okay. I texted her that I was, along with my sincerest apologies for missing work.

I cared about my students, coworkers, and responsibilities, but as my Abuela Nydia loved to say, las palabras se las lleva el viento. The wind carries words away; talk is cheap, actions speak louder, etc. Life-changing events notwithstanding, I needed to get my life in order. Today would be the day.

Anthony stuck his head through the half-open door. "Nalissa Jones is at the door, he stated loudly, his voice full of disdain. Clearly, he still didn’t trust our alliance with the reporter. I doubt you’re in any condition to deal with her, and I bet all she wants is the latest scoop."

I hear you, Anthony! Nalissa yelled through the front door. And believe me, you’ll want to hear this.

Anthony’s stony hazel eyes told me he didn’t believe her. I sighed and held my hand out so he could haul me up and out of bed. Let her in but tell her I need a few minutes.

I washed my face with cold water, gave my teeth a good minty brushing, and changed into a pair of frayed white denim shorts and a simple royal blue t-shirt. No cute shirt for me today. Yesterday’s tassels had gotten me into enough trouble.

I crossed the dining room and kitchen to see that Anthony still hadn’t let Nalissa in. They were negotiating terms through the front door. "Both Ronnie and Dan Martin’s murders are essentially solved. That’s all you’re getting until you give us something in return," he said.

"Ha! I already know that Dan killed Ronnie, that Ronnie’s roommate, Luke Wilson, stabbed Dan to defend Anne Martin when they confronted Dan together, and that yesterday Luke poisoned Angie and Mahoney with devil’s breath to render them helpless when he got spooked that Angie had figured it all out and was telling Mahoney. He thought no one would believe he killed Dan to save Anne. She sounded superior even while talking through a closed door. I have a better source than you will ever be inside the sheriff’s department. That’s why I’m here, dunderhead. Because of my excellent source. I have information for you."

I was impressed, but Anthony merely crossed his arms over his chest. You may know the basic details, but you don’t have a first-hand account or quotes from Angie and me about the ordeal for your article.

Why would I want a quote from you? she sneered. I shook my head, wondering how long I should let the stalemate continue. It was like dealing with a pair of ten-year-olds.

It’s because of me that she and Mahoney were found. Anthony shot a smug look at the door. You don’t know everything.

I was about to negotiate a truce, but Nalissa must have finally had enough because she shouted, "Craig and Jessica Fisher are dead, and there’s more. Now, will you open the door?"

My breath left me, and I leaned against the back of the living room sofa for support. Anthony yanked the door open. What do you mean, dead? he asked in disbelief.

Your grandfather owns a funeral home. What do you think it means? Nalissa shouted before noticing me. She was by my side in two steps, dark eyes troubled, short curls bouncing. I’m sorry, Angie. I didn’t want to tell you like this, but Anthony is being impossible. Are you okay? She dragged in a couple of breaths to get ahold of her temper.

Anthony guided me to an armchair and had me sit down as I struggled through my cluttered thoughts and feelings.

Craig, the CEO of an Air Force contractor who had last employed my mom, was dead, and so was his estranged wife, Jessica. They had always been exceptionally kind to me, but I recently learned they’d withheld information about my parents’ murders.

My father, Julio Gomez, was an anthropologist who discovered the whereabouts of the San Tomás, a ship that sunk in the Bermuda Triangle in 1596. San Tomás was known to carry an obscene amount of gold, but my father believed it also carried what the Spaniards thought was the key to the Fountain of Youth. He partnered with a company called Tesorex to find it. My mother, Natalia Gomez, was an adaptive sonar and radar systems engineer who worked for Tesorex and played an essential role in finding San Tomás.

There were nineteen metric tons of gold and some amber on the ship. The gold sparked a messy lawsuit about who owned it. Ultimately, all Tesorex had to show for their investment was amber stones and their advances with adaptive radar, sonar, and signal processing.

Sonrad Technologies, a contractor for Wright Patterson Air Force base in Dayton, bought Tesorex because of their technological advances. Its CEO, Craig Fisher, offered my mom a job with an excellent salary, bonuses, and benefits, and the University of Dayton offered my dad a position as a professor and researcher. Everything lined up, and my parents felt that moving to Dayton would offer our young family more stability than treasure hunting. It didn’t work out.

Twelve years ago, my parents were murdered on their way to a reception at the Dayton Art Institute. We lived nearby; it was a safe neighborhood where nothing ever happened, and they decided to walk. A dog escaped its owner and was heard barking before two gunshots reverberated through an alley. My mother’s clutch and my father’s wallet were still on them. Detectives believe the dog interrupted the thieves and that it was a burglary gone wrong.

As crazy as it sounds, I’ve always believed it was over one of the amber stones. My dad used to wear one on a long, tough leather strip around his neck, tucked low under his shirt, but only I knew the amber around his neck was taken the night of the murders. Even my grandmothers aren’t sure they believe me.

Recently, I learned that Lillian Carlson, a local socialite, came forward twelve years ago to say that my mom had been bragging about a custom-made necklace she would wear on the night of the reception. It was a lie, but it gave weight to the burglary gone wrong motive.

It was likely that Craig Fisher and Lillian Carlson were having an affair at the time, and Craig may have revealed sensitive information about my parents’ research to her. He later paid off a detective, Captain Steven Webber, to steer the investigation away from the pendant by having Lillian lie.

We also suspected Lillian of having deeper motives for misleading detectives than hiding her affair from her husband. Not only had Lillian Carlson been called a honey trap in the past, and her affair partners’ pawns and marks, but she also hosted many high-level Air Force personnel at her home. It could all mean nothing, except there had to be a reason Craig suspected her of passing on information in the first place.

None of them had known that Jessica Fisher overheard Craig and Webber discussing the coverup and that Webber instructed Craig not to reveal to Lillian that the Air Force had taken over the case. Recently, she came clean about it to Nalissa Jones.

The Fishers’ betrayal was still fresh and stung, but my heart clenched in pain at losing them. It was a lot to take in. Tito scratched at the front door, indicating that he needed to go out, and I was glad to take him downstairs. I needed the distraction. As he twirled and twirled to find a perfect spot, my mind also went around in circles until I realized there was no ‘perfect spot’ for my feelings to land. It would take time.

How did the Fishers die? I asked Nalissa the moment Tito and I stepped back inside.

She shook her head. "I don’t know. Their long-time maid found them early this morning. Oakwood firefighters were on the scene first, then Mahoney and Webber arrived separately. My source isn’t yet privy to what technicians found inside the house, but with Captain Webber running his mouth about how Jessica Fisher must have snapped and Mahoney not bagging a dirty white tassel he found outside as evidence; everything inside must’ve pointed to a clear-cut case of murder-suicide. The bodies were transferred to the county morgue, Webber left, and Sergeant Beemer and Mahoney are interviewing neighbors."

Every confusing thought and emotion whirring inside me froze up, one by one, and a dispassionate, previously unknown part of my brain took over. New thoughts flashed through my mind in an organized manner. It was as if I was getting used to all this. Whatever all this was.

Anthony and I exchanged a glance. No words were needed to communicate that I had to hear Craig’s and Jessica’s last words, but I couldn’t just waltz into the county morgue. I also needed to hide from Mahoney. The tassel, of course, was mine, and Mahoney knew it.

There was also that definite tug at my memory when I glanced at the melted candle Abuela Luci had lit. It was still there, asking me to give it time and quiet contemplation. Right now, I had neither.

Nalissa was watching me closely. "You were eavesdropping on Craig and Lillian at his house yesterday. Did you leave any evidence behind? Have you learned anything new since then? I hesitated, and Nalissa threw her hands up with an exasperated sigh. Look, I came over with major news the moment I learned of it, but your sidekick wouldn’t even let me through the door! I’m tired of going through this‍— she motioned with her hand ‍—this confirmation hearing every time we meet. You expect more than you’re willing to give, and that doesn’t work for me."

I stifled a sigh. She was right. She had more than proved herself, and we were wasting time. The tassel is from a shirt I wore yesterday, I admitted. Mahoney knows it’s mine, but I can’t tell him why I was at Craig’s house. I need to hide from him. Can you get your source to update you on his moves and share them with us?

Nalissa immediately dug her phone out of her back pocket and typed into it. When she was done, she looked up. My source also has their own goals, and they only feed me information if they believe it will help solve a case. They’d never agree to tell me Mahoney’s movements, but I asked them to keep me continuously updated on the Fishers’ case. Hopefully, that will tell us what he’s up to since he’s leading it.

Anthony reluctantly shared what we’d been up to but omitted some of our methods, like placing a tracker on Lillian’s car.

When he was done, Nalissa started to pace. So, yesterday, you just happened to catch Lillian driving that expensive Jeep she rarely drives again‍— This earned us a humorous quirk of her right eyebrow‍— "and followed her to Performance Place, where you had already run into her once during Mayor Sandberg’s case. As she was leaving Performance Place, Angie saw a man she first spotted in pictures of Lillian’s anniversary party twelve years ago, also leaving the building. You then followed this man, who turns out to be Professor Pretty, AKA Van Chapman, from Wright State University. As she spoke, she typed his name into the phone to look him up. You’re right. He’s attractive. Compelling gaze. Nice hair."

The odd thing is that I can’t tell if his hair is dark blonde or golden brown, and I’m usually very good at noting those subtle differences. In the pictures of the party, his hair looked even darker. But now, looking at you and remembering how good you are at changing your appearance, I wonder if he uses a root spray, like my Abuela Nydia does, to cover her grays between salon appointments, I mused.

Anthony considered it. If he’s a trained spy, it’s possible. For most of us, a person’s hair color is one of the two or three defining features we remember.

True. When I think of you, I only remember your boring brown buzz cut. Nalissa said to him before turning to me. Is that your official working theory now? That he and Lillian are spies? And you’re waiting to see if the students who wrote negative, long-ago reviews about him on a site that rates college professors will get back to you to tell you what country he seems loyal to?

I think it is, I said slowly. I’ve spent years thinking about all this. The first time I mentioned that spies or mercenaries or the criminal underground were after the pendant, my family pointed out that my dad would never knowingly put me and my mom at risk, which means he wouldn’t have carried anything on him that could make him a target. They were right, and that part never made sense, but I still felt sure it was important. I’ve never been able to figure out why, though. His research notebooks held no clues, and I’ve searched all their belongings many times.

Nalissa shook her head. It’s strange that he couldn’t trust whatever it was to paper, but he always kept it close to his chest.

I looked away. The idea that my dad made a choice that put us all in danger was the part of my theory that always stumped me.

Anthony squeezed my shoulder. "Let’s review what we know about Lillian, starting with what we learned from the Tilly Sandberg case, he said, mentioning our recently murdered mayor and the first crazy case we solved. Tilly said Lillian was a honey trap, and Jessup Sandberg and Neil Carlson were her marks. Lillian becomes Mrs. Carlson and begins targeting Air Force officials for her STEM fundraisers. We also have reason to believe she had an affair with Craig Fisher, who knew what Angie’s parents were working on at the base."

Funny you didn’t mention what Tilly said about Jessup Sandberg and Neil Carlson being marks yesterday, Nalissa interrupted.

I swore to the person who told me I wouldn’t get them involved, I explained. Although it was easy to figure out who had given us the information, Tilly and Jessup Sandberg’s daughter, Brenda, had been through enough. She didn’t need Nalissa interrogating her about her late father’s affair with Lillian.

Moving on, Anthony continued with a pointed look at Nalissa. When Craig realized Angie could be right about the pendant and that his loose lips with Lillian set the murder in motion, he panicked and called her. She likely knew Captain Webber accepted bribes, enlisted his help, and then lied to detectives when he suggested it was the way to go. However, Webber didn’t want her to know the investigation was passed on to the Air Force, and he must have had a reason. And that brings us to yesterday when we learned that Lillian is at least acquainted with a British Professor who has strong feelings about a specific country and digs into students’ backgrounds and connections.

Nalissa appeared to consider it all before saying, I ran an in-depth background check on Lillian under her maiden name. She had massive debt from a luxury car, jewelry store credit cards, personal loans, and more from eighteen to twenty-two. It could support your theory, but it could also be why she married Neal and had an affair with Sandberg. And the professor may just be networking.

But you’re discounting everything else, I insisted. My gut tells me there’s some intrigue with Van Chapman. His biography states he’s been here thirteen years, which means he arrived two years after my family did. What if her mission became my parents, and he was sent here to support her? Maybe she’s his handler. Maybe he’s hers. We need to look at it from different angles.

Relax, Nalissa put her hand up. It’s important for me to play devil’s advocate, but I’m not discounting anything. In fact, I met up with a source who works at the base yesterday. She shot me a quick look. "And before you ask, they have nothing to do with the Office of Special Investigations. They expanded on what Pappa told us yesterday, that foreign intelligence agents often pose as diplomats, journalists, academics, and businesspeople in DC and around military installations like Wright