Wedding Mints and Witnesses Read online

  Wedding Mints and Witnesses

  A Seasoned Southern Sleuths Mystery

  Nancy Naigle

  Kelsey Browning

  Kicksass Creations

  Contents

  Wedding Mints and Witnesses

  Dedication

  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

  Recipes

  Excerpt from Christmas Cookies and a Confession, A Jenny & Teague Novella

  Authors’ Note

  Books in the Series

  Also by Kelsey Browning

  Also by Nancy Naigle

  About Kelsey Browning

  About Nancy Naigle

  Acknowledgments

  Copyright

  Wedding Mints and Witnesses

  With a family wedding on the horizon, these feisty amateur sleuths vow to make it the shindig of the century in three short weeks with food and fun for all. Then they discover wedding guests all over Georgia are being swindled, and they can’t ignore it.

  * * *

  They’re determined to uncover the truth, but posing undercover as wedding guests isn’t as simple as it seems, what with dodgy DJs and chicken dances. When the investigation leads to their own backyard, a thirty-year-old secret comes out, and the wedding plans start to crumble.

  * * *

  Will they be able to tempt the bad guy out into the open, or will the wedding shenanigans ruin everyone’s happily ever after?

  This book is dedicated to Eva Brown,

  Kelsey’s grandmother, who turned 100 years old this year.

  * * *

  Grandmom, thank you for keeping me when I was a little girl and for letting me snuggle close when you read to me, despite your “muffins.”

  * * *

  And thank you for giving me plenty of inspiration for these spunky grannies. I think you might just recognize the ice water treatment Lil threatens Abby Ruth with. Sure glad you used that on my brother and not me.

  Chapter One

  The sound of brass horns blasted through Summer Haven’s first floor, and Lil jumped so high she almost lost her grip on the cookie sheet she’d been pulling from the oven. Before she could figure out what the jarring noise was, the horns were joined by the beat of drums.

  Wait a minute. She knew that song. Abby Ruth often marched through the house to it, bellowing something about sawing Varsity’s horns off.

  Abby Ruth Cady had replaced Lil’s beautiful doorbell chimes with “The Aggie War Hymn.”

  That woman…

  Lil rushed from the kitchen to the foyer, her shoes tapping on the heart pine floors. Before she could answer the door, the person outside must’ve pressed the doorbell again, because the song started over.

  Taking a calming breath, Lil opened the front door to find a smiling woman standing on the porch. Her trim, teal-colored pantsuit matched the late-May morning sky. With a slim leather bag in one hand and her blond hair neatly brushed into an updo, she appeared to be in her thirties.

  “Good morning,” she said, holding out a business card. “I’m Sharon Duncan.”

  Instinctively, Lil reached for the card and glanced down at it.

  Sharon Dooley Duncan

  Attorney-at-Law

  The welcoming smile on Lil’s lips froze in an attempt to control the tremble matching the hummingbird-pace of her heart.

  A lawyer at Summer Haven? Lord, please no.

  Dread filled Lil, and suddenly the sweet aroma of the sand tarts that she’d just taken out of the oven made her feel as lightheaded as a diabetic after slurping down a snow cone. The last time she’d talked with attorneys, she’d ended up sleeping on a dreadful prison camp cot for more months than she cared to remember. She should’ve known better than to sign her late husband’s Social Security checks just to give him an expensive burial, but she’d paid her debt to society for it.

  Her brain scrambling, she swallowed hard. Why would an attorney show up on her doorstep?

  “The paperwork I have—” the woman’s words dragged Lil back to the situation at hand, “—indicated I would be able to find the person I’m looking for here at Summer Haven.”

  Breathe. Smile. Breathe.

  “Would you happen to be Abby Ruth Cady?” Ms. Duncan asked.

  Hallelujah. Relief flew through Lil, but she hadn’t meant for that joyous yelp to escape. She cleared her throat, hoping the lawyer lady hadn’t noticed.

  “Me, Abby Ruth Cady?” Lil could never be confused with Abby Ruth, not even on a day when popsicles were being served down below. Although she and the brassy Texan had learned to tolerate and sometimes almost like each other, they were still nothing alike. “I’m afraid not, dear,” she said. “I’m Lillian Summer Fairview, Summer Haven’s owner.”

  Her eyebrows drawn together, Ms. Duncan said, “My apologies. I must have received the wrong information. So sorry to have bothered you.” She turned to head down the front steps, and Lil thought she heard something that sounded like, “Thanks, Uncle H.”

  Before Lil could tell the woman she was at the right place, Abby Ruth clomped down the stairs in those cowboy boots of hers, stepping right up behind Lil in the foyer and pointing a rude finger toward the lawyer. “Who’s that?”

  “Someone looking for you.”

  “Young lady,” Abby Ruth called, “I’m Abby Ruth Cady.”

  Ms. Duncan stopped mid-step. This time, as she turned to face them, Ms. Duncan’s words were clearly understandable. “Thank God and all the angels with him.”

  Lil held the door so Ms. Duncan could come inside.

  “Is there a place where we could sit?” she asked. “I’m here to represent Hollis Dooley’s estate.”

  “His estate?” Abby Ruth folded her arms, creating creases in her starched white shirt that matched the ones around her narrowed eyes.

  “Sharon Dooley Duncan,” Lil muttered to herself. “You’re Hollis’s family?” Lil’s heart squeezed. It hadn’t been but ten days since Hollis had passed away peacefully in his sleep, and the town of Summer Shoals was still grieving over the loss of their local curmudgeon.

  “His great-niece.”

  “Didn’t see you at the funeral.” Abby Ruth straightened to her full height, towering over the young attorney.

  “I was out of the country, but my uncle had his affairs in order. In fact, we updated his will a few months ago. Which—” she leveled a stare in Abby Ruth’s direction, “—is why I am here to see you.”

  Abby Ruth tapped her toe the way she did when she was antsy. She eyed the attorney suspiciously, sending Lil’s Southern sensibilities into a twirl. She nudged Abby Ruth and gave her a warning glance.

  “Are you saying Hollis left us something in his will?” Abby Ruth said. “Sure hope it’s something good.”

  “Abby Ruth!” That woman had absolutely no filter. “We’re so sorry for your loss, Ms. Duncan,” Lil said, hoping to overshadow Abby Ruth’s crude comment.

  “Thank you.” Ms. Duncan turned her attention back to Abby Ruth. “And yes, he did, Ms. Cady—”

  “Call me Abby Ruth.”

  “Abby
Ruth, this pertains to his most prized possession.”

  “We weren’t that close.” Abby Ruth shot Lil an arched-brow look.

  Lil’s hopes soared at the mention of a prized possession. Maybe Hollis had been one of those old guys who appeared to barely make ends meet but actually slept on a mattress full of cash every night. “Abby Ruth, why don’t you show our guest to the parlor? I have a fresh pot of coffee brewed and cookies still warm from the oven.”

  Ms. Dooley Duncan tugged at the collar of her blouse. “I don’t want to be a bother—”

  “Be a bother. Otherwise, she’ll ration me to two cookies.” Abby Ruth pointed toward the front room that held a velvet divan, antique turned-leg ottoman, and a big-screen TV that still gave Lil heart palpitations when she saw it hanging on the wall. Never would she admit how much she enjoyed watching MMA fights on it when the other gals weren’t home.

  Lil rolled her eyes at her overly dramatic friend. “I’ll only be a second.”

  As Ms. Duncan followed Abby Ruth into the parlor, she asked, “Was that ‘The Aggie War Hymn’ I heard when I rang the doorbell? I’m actually class of ’01.”

  Although there was no rush, since Abby Ruth and the attorney apparently shared an alma mater, it took Lil less than five minutes in the kitchen to fix a tray—complete with silver coffee service and china plates along with the cookies. She carried it into the parlor and set it on her favorite piecrust-edged table.

  “Now then,” she said as she handed Ms. Duncan a cup and plate, trying to pause the tide of Texas A&M stories. “You said you had news for us?”

  Hollis’s great-niece set aside the refreshments to reach for her bag. “Yes, my uncle included Abby Ruth in his last will and testament.”

  “Abby Ruth and…” Lil urged.

  “Just Abby Ruth Cady.”

  Abby Ruth jerked her head up. “Nothing for Sera? Are you sure?”

  “Seeing as I’m the attorney who drew up the paperwork, I’m quite sure.” She pulled out a thin sheaf of papers.

  “Now that doesn’t make a lick of sense,” Abby Ruth muttered. “Hollis had a real soft spot for Sera.”

  “I’m sure he had his reasons. I’d be happy to read the entire document to you, or we can cut to the chase.”

  “A woman after my own heart,” Abby Ruth declared. “Finally, someone who doesn’t have to talk a body to death.” She rubbed her hands together. “So, tell me what good ol’ Hollis left me. It’s been a hard year. I hope he had a gun collection. Wouldn’t that beat all?”

  Lil stared at Abby Ruth in disbelief. She could certainly understand someone hoping for money, even jewelry, but guns? Only Abby Ruth.

  “He left in your care one of his most precious possessions.”

  “Well, don’t keep me guessing then. What is it?”

  “He left you Ritter,” Ms. Duncan said, a light of what looked like relief and giddiness sparking in her eyes. “His bloodhound.”

  A chuckle bubbled up inside Lil, but she kept it down. Barely. Hollis had chosen Abby Ruth as the legal guardian for his dog, and it was the first time she’d ever seen the woman look as if she’d been bopped over the head with a piece of scrap wood. Thanks for the humor, Hollis.

  Ms. Duncan turned the paper toward Abby Ruth, pointing a well-manicured nail to a blank line at the bottom. “I’ll need you to sign right here, and we can make this official. There are only a few stipulations.” She pushed a pen toward Abby Ruth.

  Abby Ruth pulled her hands back. “What kind of stip—”

  “Sign the paper, Abby Ruth,” Lil urged.

  “You, of all people, should know better than to sign something without reading it first.” Abby Ruth shifted the papers closer and scanned them. “The document is pretty straightforward. Hollis left the care of Ritter to me. In return, I’ll receive a small stipend.” Lifting a page closer to her face, she muttered, “You gotta be kidding me.”

  “What?”

  “That lawyer said I’d be compensated to take care of Ritter, but this stipulates I’ll get a stipend of twenty-five bucks a month. That’s barely enough to cover dog food these days. And Ritter remains in my care until the day of his natural departure. That could be a long time.”

  “You have to do it,” Lil told her. “Hollis was a friend.”

  Abby Ruth glanced in Lil’s direction, and she gave her a nod. Did a person really have a choice in this kind of matter?

  “It was his final wish,” Ms. Duncan added.

  “There’s been some kind of mistake. Why would Hollis Dooley leave me anything in his will?” Abby Ruth paled. “He should know I can’t have a dog.”

  “As the document outlines, you’ll be compensated for Ritter’s care. Notice the clause at the end. As long as Ritter dies of natural causes, you’ll receive whatever is left of the monies set aside. I might add that Uncle Hollis seemed to have an optimistic opinion of this dog’s lifespan.”

  Was she saying it could be a tidy sum at the end? Lil’s heart danced.

  “How old is he?” Abby Ruth asked. Lil nudged her with a glare.

  “Nine. Tell you what,” Ms. Duncan said. “You sign that while I run out and get him.”

  “Ritter? He’s here? Now?”

  “Of course.” She was out the front door and halfway to her car before the screen door slammed behind her.

  Abby Ruth lifted her phone and asked Siri, “How long do bloodhounds live?”

  Siri responded with a monotoned, “The answer is about 11 years.”

  Abby Ruth sagged. “Lil, please tell Hollis’s niece we can’t have that dog in your house.”

  “We can make it work.” Lil patted Abby Ruth’s leg. “And you’ll be compensated.”

  “That stipend is barely break even. We aren’t about to get rich, Lil. My luck that dog will outlive us both.” She closed her eyes and swallowed. “Why on earth would he leave Ritter to me anyway?”

  “He’s a sweet dog.”

  “If you love him so much, then you take him.”

  “Believe me, I do not want that ancient, stinky dog in my house. But you can’t deny Hollis’s last wishes. Ritter can sleep in the garage.” She eyed Abby Ruth, enjoying her predicament. “Everyone knows how much Hollis loved that old hound dog. You two must have been much closer than I realized.”

  Abby Ruth sat back, her lips curved down. “No, we were not!”

  “Why didn’t I see it before? He was using Sera to get closer to you. Of course. Clear as daylight.” She pursed her lips, trying to hide the shifty smile threatening to reveal that she was giving Abby Ruth a hard time.

  “No way.” Abby Ruth’s eyes widened, but she leaned forward and scribbled her signature on the paper.

  Lil took pleasure in seeing the normally unflappable Abby Ruth tongue-tied and frazzled. “Actions speak louder than words.” With glee in her heart, she headed for the parlor door. “I have to get the rest of these cookies off the tray before they stick.”

  She giggled all the way back to the kitchen. The last thing she wanted was a dog at Summer Haven, but if it riled up Abby Ruth, it might not be all that bad. And the cherry on the top was that the lawyer hadn’t come to see her.

  Thank goodness she wasn’t in trouble again. She gave a silent thank-you-Lord. Was this His way of reminding her to be grateful each day?

  She’d paid her dues for her wrongdoings, but it was easy to forget now that she was back home. Never again should she take for granted sleeping in her own bed or cooking in her own kitchen.

  She reached for the coffeepot. Her brew tasted much better than the chicory swill that Sera—their natural food and yoga-loving friend—insisted on making when she was in residence here in Georgia.

  With Sera in California for a few months with her famous husband, Lil was reminded how lucky she was to have these ladies in her life, even Abby Ruth. If Lil had never fallen into trouble, she and Maggie would’ve never made friends with Sera and Abby Ruth. Everything happened for a reason.

  The screen door squeaked, an
d Lil cringed at the tippity-tap of dog toenails on her high-shine foyer floors.

  “Get your slobbery lips off me,” Abby Ruth called out.

  Lil scooped the last of the sand tarts onto the cooling rack then hightailed it back to the parlor. “Where’s Ms. Duncan?”

  “She just did a dump and run with ol’ Ritter here.” Abby Ruth waved toward Hollis’s beloved hound. The dog had drooping eyelids and enough extra skin and fur to outfit a Labrador retriever. “She didn’t even say goodbye.”

  “Well, now,” Lil said. “That’s really not the type of manners I’d expect from kinfolk of Hollis Dooley.”

  Truth was it was a little hard to resist the hound’s dignified look amidst all the flopping folds of skin. She reached a tentative hand toward Ritter, who lifted his nose in the air and sniffed loudly toward Lil. “I think he smells those cookies,” she said with a laugh.

  Ritter lifted a hind leg and scratched at his massive right ear until it was flapping back and forth against his nose and shoulder. The scent of old socks and Roquefort cheese wafted from him. “Oh, my. Speaking of smells, Ritter’s hygiene could use some refining.”

  “He smells like that trash heap Hollis used to watch over out at the landfill,” Abby Ruth grumbled, stepping back as if in search of fresh air. “Our taxpayer money at work.”

  Lil pinched her nose. “You’ll have to do something about Ritter.”