Murder & Spice and Everything Nice: Ivy Bloom Mysteries Read online

  Murder & Spice And Everything Nice

  Ivy Bloom Mysteries

  Caryn Thomas Mitchell

  A Novel Obsession Publishing

  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

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Murder & Spice And Everything Nice

  © 2017 Caryn Thomas Mitchell

  This is a work of fiction, any resemblance to persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.

  Cover Art by Spencer Pierson

  Created with Vellum

  To my beloved, who always believes in me. To my mom and dad, who introduced me to Nancy Drew and taught me to read so that I’d agree to go to school. To my sons, one of whom suggested this career. My boys taught me how much a person can do if they just take the first step, the world is your oyster boys. And also to our dogs, for keeping me company and keeping me sane, I love you guys.

  Chapter 1

  “The grand opening is…”

  “Next week Ivy, I know,” my sister Gigi interrupted me. Her hands were full of books, her hair was in a messy bun on top of her head with a pencil stuck in it. She blew the loose wisps of hair out of her eyes, annoyed. “I know. We all know, you can stop reminding me any time now.”

  “Right, well I was going to say the grand opening is going to be a huge success thanks in part to all of your help,” I said sounding chipper. I hoped.

  “No, you weren’t,” she rolled her eyes. “You were going to remind me of something that you think I forgot to do, and since I’m the organized one and you’re,” she paused and glared at me, “definitely not, I think you should just move along.”

  “Fine. I was going to remind you. But I also think you’ve done a great job.”

  “Too late to suck up to me now, Ivy. Now get out of here, I’ve got work to do,” she spun on her heel and turned to finish stacking the display in the front entrance.

  I’m worried, so sue me. Next week Bloom’s Books opens to the public. I hadn’t planned to run a bookstore/event venue/whatever else people will pay us to do here, and frankly I wouldn’t recommend it to anyone. It’s turning out to be an ever bigger headache than I had thought it would be. And that’s saying something.

  Sometimes life just takes you for a ride, you know? This is one of those times. My second step-father once removed, well, divorced from my mom but you know what I mean, had left to me and Gigi an enormous property on the bay on Cape Cod. When I was a kid my mom called it Chez Pile, which should make her feelings pretty clear.

  It was, well is really, called Bloomstruck, a play on words. His last name was Bloom, and our mother changed ours to match, so ours is too. And it does need work, but what is there is, well, striking just like the name says. It’s surrounded by gardens, which now need to be tamed.

  I heard a knock at the front door and dashed to open it. Standing on the front porch, looking for all the world like a garden gnome, right on cue, is Carl, the landscaper. I could tell because his shirt said so.

  “Hi,” I stuck out my hand. “I’m Ivy, Ivy Bloom, welcome to Bloomstruck.”

  “Carl,” he said in reply.

  “Right, well, care to take a walk around the place and give me some ideas?”

  “Sure,” Carl turned and trudged back down the driveway as I hurried to catch up with him. He hitched up his jeans as he stumped along in his heavy work boots. Carl and I crunched down the crushed shell drive leading to an iron gate. At the end of the driveway we turned together and looked at the house. In the mid May sunlight the new coat of paint gleamed. I loved this house and it always took my breath away.

  The mansion is rambling, with balconies that look for all the world like a cake designer had a hand in adding them, tall windows, unexpected arches and odd angles. The place is long, a series of add on rooms adding to the charm.

  Carl seemed unimpressed with the house and was poking at a particularly sad looking Magnolia tree. He pulled out a notebook and a stubby pencil and started writing furious notes as he inspected the various trees and plantings around the house. I couldn’t help but hear cash register noises in my head with every little mark he made. The grounds are several acres, and they roll away toward a salt pond which leads to feeder streams that will take you to the bay. Should you want to paddle there, which I definitely do not.

  “So, Carl, I’d like to tidy up what’s here, then once things have stabilized we can put together a longer term plan for the grounds, okay?”

  Carl nodded.

  “Can I help you with anything else at the moment?” I asked.

  He shook his head, no.

  “Well then, you’ll send me something?”

  Carl nodded yes.

  “Right,” man of few words there. “I’ll look for your notes in the mail,” I said as I walked away.

  My step-father, Hugh, had also left us some money to keep the place up but Gigi and I had agreed that the mansion had to start paying for itself as soon as possible. Upkeep wouldn’t be cheap. Since I was moving home anyway to take a much needed break from the city, we had decided that rather than sell Bloomstruck we would take it on as a project and career.

  My writing career was plagued by a literary agent who had hands like an octopus, much to the dismay of his latest intern.

  And also, me, since he was my husband. Or he had been until he I learned about his intern habit.

  Yep, turned out she wasn’t the only one he had tried that with. So it looked like he would be out of commission for a while, or at least as long as the lawsuit her wealthy father had filed was resolved.

  And he would be out of my life, I hoped, forever. I’m between mystery series’ at the moment, and nothing I had written had done well enough that I could expect it to support me forever. Publishing is like that. So, here I am looking for a new challenge and a new life and a new income source. No big deal, right?

  It had been my dream as a child to turn the mansion into an enormous bookstore. Crazy, I know. But here we were on the cusp of the opening and it was turning out pretty well, except for making my sister consider fratricide. I cast my eyes in Gigi’s direction but she was still stacking books in the main entry and I didn’t see any weapons nearby, so things were moving along.

  It makes a lot of sense actually, well we think it does. Each of the rooms in the house will hold books that have something to do with that room. Think of it like this: cookbooks in the kitchen, books on entertaining in the dining room, DIY and home improvement in the basement workshop, self help in the office, and travel in the conservatory. We put children’s literature in the nursery and then each second floor bedroom has fiction; bedrooms decorated for older kids host books for older kids, and adult fiction in the second floor master, and of course romance in the ladies sitting room.

  In addition, the butler’s pantry, which is quite large and almost a second kitchen, will serve coffee and baked goods cafe style.

  The mansion is topped with
an apartment which has some lovely views of the Cape. The part of the apartment that faces the back of the property has a widow’s walk outside, a perfect spot to pace and worry-or maybe that’s just me, and watch the waters of the bay. The bayside is spectacular at sunset, as anyone who has walked Rock Harbor at dusk could tell you. She has George and her daughter and the whole family deal so there really isn’t room.

  The entrance to the house, with its winding staircases, is the check-out and information area of the store, and the enormous formal living room will serve as a place to sit and read in comfy chairs. We’d had shelving installed in every room but the place was so palatial that we still had plenty of space for events, meetings, book groups, whatever people wanted to do. Well, within reason.

  In the pantry I make myself a cup of coffee and nab a cookie, and sit with my yellow legal pad that holds my long to-do list. Crossing things off as I go down the page, I inevitably think of things to add, until the list is twice as long but no more complete. I brush the crumbs off my lap in disgust and get up to clear my dishes.

  “Hello?”

  “Oh! You startled me,” I said as I turned to answer. Standing in the doorway, like an apparition, is a waif of a young woman, rather pale, dressed all in white, similar to a novice at a convent. “Sister Daisy, come in, sit down, can I get you something? Are you alright?” I ask as I peer at her face which seems much paler than usual.

  “I’m fine,” she murmured, head bowed. “Father Amos wanted to know if you had looked over the texts he brought you.”

  “I did,” I said, hoping she wouldn’t ask me what I thought of his new age cultish drivel. “I’m deciding whether to put them in local, which would be in the vestibule, or keep them in special collections and religion in the prohibition room where they are now. ”

  “Prohibition room?” she asked. “Is that a hidden room, like in the days of Prohibition?” The last word she whispered as if the very word was naughty. This was the most animated I’d ever seen the young woman. The cult that “Father Amos” ran seemed more like an excuse to subdue and make servants out of the prettiest young women he could find. The Little Flowers of Purity, he calls them. Personally I think he’s an old fool, and a mean one at that, but she seems fond of him. People are weird.

  “It is actually, yes. I thought I’d put special collections in there because it’s more climate controlled and the books won’t be damaged. I’ll be buying special collections that are older and they’ll do better if they’re a little bit protected.”

  “Oh, I’d love to see that,” she exclaimed as she clapped her hands in what seemed like a genuinely unguarded moment. It made me happy to see her suddenly so alive, her life was usually pretty well controlled by Amos and she and the other ‘sisters’ were usually reserved.

  “Come on then,” I said turning to the doorway, “let’s check it out.”

  “Oh, no, I couldn’t,” she was suddenly back to whispering and hanging her head. “He expects me back any minute.”

  “Let’s just take a quick peek, his pamphlets are in there- you can tell him you saw the display.”

  She smiled shyly at me and followed me out of the doorway and down the hall. I pressed the top left corner of a bookcase that was tucked under the stairs and the secret panel clicked open. We ducked inside and the special collections room opened before us. It’s much larger than you’d imagine from standing in the hallway, and I love it with its 1930’s barroom feel.

  Daisy walked to the long mahogany bar and ran her hand across the silky smooth wood. We had left the bar at the front of the room, and the cocktail tables with accompanying leather chairs scattered throughout. Now they would serve as places to view delicate books instead of hiding the booze from enforcement agents.

  “Oh, here they are,” she said as she glanced at the one of the wooden wine racks we’d repurposed for a book display.

  “Yep, I thought he’d want to be with other religious texts,” I smiled at her, though I was not at all thrilled that we’d taken his books. I’m more of an old school comparative religion person myself, and not a fan of cults. Keeping the neighbors happy is part of doing business though.

  I was surprised to see her pull out a smart phone to take a picture. I hadn’t thought they’d have that sort of freedom. “Thank you so much for showing me, and for the little tour. I’ll be back for the grand opening. Father gave me permission,” she smiled and blushed as she looked down again.

  A noise at the door startled me and I turned.

  Tall and blonde and tense, Nedra Harris, the local real estate agent, and wife of a wealthy and well known attorney, was standing there. Staring. She always reminds me of a thoroughbred. Calm, cool and collected at all times, I think she reminds herself of one too. Dressed for business, in a fashionable suit, heels and a large leather briefcase she was imposing, to say the least.

  “Hi Nedra, may I help you?”

  Her slender face pulled into her trademark fake smile, “No, I was just having a look around to see what you’ve done with the place.”

  “Oh, well, we’re not actually open until next week, I was just showing Daisy here some books she dropped off for us to carry.”

  “Ohhhh,” she drew this out like she had just found a snake in her fridge, “I didn’t see her there,” although clearly she had, “Hello, Daisy,” she said stretching out a carefully manicured hand that glinted with diamond jewelry.

  “Nice to meet you,” Daisy said as she slipped past her, ignoring Nedra’s hand as she hurried out the door.

  “Strange,” said Nedra as she turned to watch Daisy go.

  She’s not the only one, I thought, but didn’t say. “Yes, well, she leads an unusual life I imagine. Is there something you need, Nedra? We’re really not ready to be showing people around, and the place isn’t for sale so…”

  “No, I just happened by and thought I’d have a peek. I love the books in every room!”

  “Well it is a bookstore, we thought that was appropriate. Come with me and I’ll get you some coffee, we have locally roasted beans,” not that I wanted her here but if she wasn’t leaving I at least want her where I can keep an eye on her.

  She followed me down the hall, the hive of activity creating a low buzz in the vast entry foyer.

  “It’s certainly busy here,” she said as she glanced around.

  “Well that’s the idea, have to keep moving to be ready to open.”

  “Yes, you know, I think I’ll come back then, thank you for the little tour though,” she said and strode purposefully out the massive front doors.

  I stared after her as Gigi sidled up to me, “What was that about?” she asked in a hushed voice.

  “I have no idea, she turned up in the prohibition room while I was there with Daisy. I have the feeling she’d shown herself around a great deal of the house already, but who knows? Maybe she’s hoping we’ll fail and she can list it?” I shrugged.

  Suddenly there was a crash from the kitchen and Gigi and I turned and ran to the back of the house to investigate.

  Chapter 2

  The crashing noises continued as we dashed down the long hallway toward the kitchen at the back of the house.

  Once inside the doorway we gasped in unison as we surveyed the damage. My niece Jennifer was surrounded by broken dishes and scattered books. There was a ladder on its side on the floor and several shelves were hanging off the walls by just one end.

  “Are you okay?” Gigi asked her as we all surveyed the mess. Jennifer looked up, tears in her eyes.

  “Yeah, I’m fine, but look!”

  “Were you on that ladder? I asked you to wait for me!” this from Carter O’Malley our handyman/general contractor and savior where anything building-wise needed to be done.

  “I know, I just thought…” she stammered.

  Carter, who is pretty much the guy on a romance cover come to life with the addition of a tool belt and pick-up truck, crunched across the broken dishes to Jen “Up you go!” he said as he pick
ed her up and carried her to the doorway, where he deposited her with her mother and me.

  “I’ll clean up this mess, I don’t want anyone to get cut on the dishes. And then I’ll put the shelves back up. Go do other stuff, I’ve got this,” he said as he waved us away.

  I closed my eyes and breathed deeply as he turned away, his after shave, or soap, or whatever he wore, always smelled so good.

  “Ouch,” I squeaked as Gigi poked me in the stomach with her elbow.

  “Hello in there, let’s go, we’ve been dismissed.”

  “But look at this…” I trailed off.

  “He’s got this, we’ve got things to do,” turning to Jennifer, she asked gently “you okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine. I just thought I could get those shelves set and…”

  “And he asked you not to,” her mother said.

  “I know, but he does so much.”

  “That’s true, and who knows how he does it? But he does, so let’s let him. C’mon we’ll go up front and double check the lists for the rounders in the hallway.”

  They walked away, Gigi with her arm around Jennifer. Watching them go I thought about the stark difference between my boisterous adventurous niece and Daisy, who was so closed off. Daisy lived wearing her white formless blouse and skirt every day, staying inside with the other members of the cult, and living on the fringes of the community. How lonesome and sad it seemed to me. I liked my life peppered with family and friends and just a hint of chaos. The current chaos with the impending store opening was a bit much though.

  “Penny for your thoughts,” Carter’s deep voice came from somewhere above my head and I craned my neck to look up at him. He is well over six feet tall and owns any room he occupies.

  “Hmm? Oh, thanks, just appreciating my niece even though she’s a terrible listener. Or maybe because of it,” I shrugged. Kind of a lot of work in here, are you sure you’ve got this?”