A Dead End (A Saints & Strangers Cozy Mystery Book 1) by Keeley Bates

Josephine.”
    “You’re the one who was intent on having me enroll in Westdale College,” Kit said. “Why bother if you want me to focus on snagging a husband?”
    “A degree is important,” Heloise acknowledged, “but a husband is more important.”
    Kit rolled her eyes. “Excuse me while I eject myself from the time machine I seem to be trapped in.”
    “It’s true,” Heloise insisted. “And what on earth do you intend to do with a degree in psychology?”
    “I haven’t decided yet. Maybe become a psychologist.” She watched in awe as her mother spoon fed a dollop of plum gin sorbet to Hermès, the Giant Schnauzer. “God knows I have plenty of experience with crazy people.”
     
    Kit made a show of weeding her front garden in the hope that Thora would emerge from her house. Just because she couldn’t live in the house didn’t mean she couldn’t care for the exterior. The house had been unloved long enough.
    Kit kneeled in the hot sun, sweat dripping down her chest. She knew it would be easier to go knock on the door and ask about Chris the mechanic, but she wanted their exchange to be subtle so she could gauge Thora’s reaction. That’s what Ellie Gold would do.
    In episode five, season one of Fool’s Gold , Ellie dealt with an elderly woman in a nursing home who the police believed had witnessed a crime. They thought that the elderly woman didn’t want to admit what she’d seen because she was afraid. It turned out that she didn’t want to admit her presence at the crime scene because she was actually the culprit. Ellie’s trick in that episode had been to gain the woman’s trust. No one in her family ever came to visit her in the nursing home and she craved human interaction so she began to look forward to Ellie’s visits, even if they were crime-related.
    Kit stole a look at the quiet house next door. Maybe Thora was out, although her car was in the driveway.
    Kit yanked another root from the ground and yelped when dirt from the roots flew into her eyes.
    “That’s not a weed,” a shaky voice called. Kit watched as Thora ambled her way across the front lawn. “Are you trying to give an old woman a stroke pulling out your asters?”
    Well, there was nothing wrong with Thora’s eyesight, that was certain.
    “Those are flowers?” Kit asked, incredulous. “I thought I was being a diligent gardener.”
    “What are you even doing here?” Thora asked. “Have the police finished the investigation?”
    “Not to my knowledge,” Kit replied, wondering just how desperately Thora wanted to know.
    Thora put a hand on her replacement hip, scrutinizing Kit’s abysmal handiwork. “How much do you know about gardening?”
    Kit shielded her eyes, gazing up at Thora. “Well, we have beautiful gardens at Greyabbey.”
    “And you tended to these gardens yourself?” Thora quizzed her, knowing perfectly well that the Winthrop Wilders had staff for everything.
    “I watched,” Kit said, then added meekly, “sometimes.”
    Thora studied the flowerbed with a critical eye. “These are daisies. You’ve heard of daisies, haven’t you? They need partial sun and plenty of water. Those are tomato plants. They shouldn’t even be in this bed. It’s an offense against nature.” She huffed in disgust. “Ernie Ludwig had no sense of decency.”
    “You are dead serious about gardens,” Kit said and winced when she realized she’d used the word ‘dead.’
    “The Westdale garden competition is once a year.” She held up her index finger in Kit’s face. “Once. I won every year until…”
    “Until?” Kit prompted. “Ernie’s motor home?”
    Thora nodded and adjusted the hem of her shirt. “Now I’m back in business, thank goodness.” She rubbed her hands together excitedly. “I’m sure to win this year.”
    “When do they judge?”
    “September. You’ll see how gorgeous my garden looks by then.”
    “Unless I buy that motor home I had my eye on,” Kit joked. The steely look in