Free Skeletons in the Attic (A Marketville Mystery Book 1) by Judy Penz Sheluk Page A

around the block every night after dinner—and he told me you’re not just another tenant. He told me you were Jim and Abigail’s daughter.” The woman smiled broadly, revealing a smear of red lipstick on her upper eyetooth. “Ella Cole. I live next door, on the left side of you. The brown brick bungalow with the hunter green shutters and the rose garden. Our house is on the Marketville Gorgeous Gardens Tour. Not that the roses are in bloom just yet. I’m an original.”
    “An original?”
    Ella nodded. “As in an original homeowner in the Wildflowers subdivision. Picked the house from plans way back in the seventies when Marketville was just a blip on Toronto’s horizon, can you imagine? All of twenty thousand residents back then, the mall had forty stores, versus the two-hundred-plus today. And there were none of those big box monstrosities that are sprouting up everywhere like a bad case of teenage acne.”
    The last thing I needed to hear was a tangent on urban sprawl. I recalled something a builder friend had told me a few years back. “Sprawl is the house built next to yours.” I attempted to divert her. “An original resident? That must have been very exciting.”
    Ella Cole practically preened. I could almost see the tightly permed curls spring into action as her chest puffed out.
    “Of course I’ve made some improvements since. We all have…” She looked down at the linoleum and blushed. “I mean, most of us have. Those of us who haven’t rented out. Not that I blame your papa.”
    I disregarded her blathering while I took full meaning of her words. Ella Cole might know something about my mother. Maybe even my father. “Won’t you come in? I was just having a glass of wine. I have red and white.”
    Her mouth pursed into a tight grimace, the red lipstick making it look like shriveled poppy. “You like to drink alone.”
    I should have been annoyed at the implication that I was some sort of fall down drunk. Instead, I found myself going into full defense mode. “Just a small glass of wine after Sunday dinner following a day of hard work. I’ve been stripping carpet all day.”
    The mouth remained pursed. A large part of me wanted to tell her to sod off, but that wasn’t the way to get information, or to be neighborly. I made an effort to be conciliatory.
    “I can make a nice pot of herbal tea, chamomile perhaps, always good at night, and I have some chocolate chip cookies. Store bought, I’m afraid, but quite good.”
    “Store bought is fine,” Ella said, visibly thawing, “though as I remember, your mama loved to bake.”
    “A passion I didn’t inherit, I’m afraid, but come on in and make yourself comfortable. Kitchen or living room?”
    “I always find a kitchen so much more intimate.”
    “Kitchen it is.” I plugged in the kettle and realized I’d neglected to tell Ella my name. “Excuse my bad manners. I’m afraid I haven’t properly introduced myself. Callie Barnstable.”
    “Of course I know who you are, Callie, although as I recall, your mama always called you Calamity.”
    Why didn’t I remember my mother calling me Calamity? Was that the reason I insisted that everyone, including my father, call me Callie?
    “I go by Callie now, Mrs. Cole,” I said, forcing a smile.
    “No need for formalities between neighbors. Ella will do just fine.”
    “Thank you, Ella. Let me get the tea and cookies then we can chat. I’d love to hear more about my parents when they were young. That is, if you’ve got any stories to share.”
    Ella gave a smile fit for a winner of the Lotto Max millions, and I knew I’d nailed it. This, then, was the neighborhood busybody. Probably avoided by everyone on Snapdragon Circle, if not the entire Wildflower subdivision.
    In short, my new best friend.

Chapter 14
     
    “You mentioned stripping the carpet,” Ella said, dunking a cookie into her tea. “I noticed the rolls at the curb on garbage day. I thought I saw Royce giving you a hand with