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

them on Thursday evening. Did he help you with the work?”
    My assumption of a neighborhood busybody was confirmed. “No, I did all the work. Royce saw me taking the rolls of carpet out and offered to help.” As if she didn’t know. Probably had her window open, trying to listen in to our conversation.
    “I have a bunch more in the carport, ready for next week’s pick up. I’m pleased, though, at how good the hardwood looks. The floors should refinish nicely.”
    “They will indeed. It was all the rage to put wall-to-wall carpeting in back then. We did it, too, though we got rid of it about fifteen years ago. I’m delighted to see that you’re putting in some elbow grease. Does this mean you plan to stay?”
    “For a while, anyway.” I wasn’t about to tell her about the conditions of the codicil. Ella would have it spread all over town by the next morning. It was time to steer the conversation into another direction.
    “Maybe you can give me some advice on gardening, Ella, seeing as how you’ve done so well with yours. I’ve been told that nothing grows on this property but the lilac. I’d love my own vegetable patch. Nothing elaborate. Some tomatoes, cucumbers, maybe some zucchini.”
    “Those are all easy to grow in this area. I’d be happy to go to the garden center with you, once you’ve dug up the plots. I won’t do any digging, but I can show you a perfectly good location. There’s plenty enough light now, if you’re interested in seeing it.”
    “You’re on.”
    We wandered outside where Ella proceeded to point out a rectangular weed-infested area near the back of the yard, behind a storage shed that had seen better days. The rest of the yard might have been patchy, but this section was downright depressing.
    “Your mama planted a vegetable garden here the last summer she lived here,” Ella said. “Of course, it’s been left to go to seed, but there’s no reason you can’t pull out the weeds and turn the soil over. Gets good sun and it’s tucked out of the way, so when you’re sitting on your patio, you don’t have to look at zucchini and tomatoes. You’ll also want some flowers. I’d suggest that you start with a couple of whiskey barrels. I’ve got a diagram that tells you what plants to buy so you get season-long color and contrasting heights.”
    “Whiskey barrels?”
    Ella nodded. “Distilleries sell the whiskey barrels to garden centers, who in turn cut them in half. They make lovely rustic planters.”
    “ Rustic. I like the idea.” I swatted away the fifth mosquito in as many seconds. “Let’s get back inside before we become bug food. They seem so much worse up here than in the city.”
    “More trees and water, less concrete. It’s one reason why my late husband, Eddie, built us a screened gazebo,” Ella said as we headed back indoors.
    “Your late husband? Did he die recently?”
    “It will be five years this August. Hit by lightning on the golf course, if you can believe that. Apparently Eddie ignored the warning horn, wanted to putt out. Well, he did that, the stubborn old fool.”
    “I’m sorry.”
    Ella waved away the sentiment with a weathered hand, although I noticed she was still wearing her wedding band.
    “Do you have any other questions, Callie? I’d be happy to answer them if I can.”
    “I suppose you’ve been in this house a few times, over the years, living next door and all. Did you get to know any of the tenants?”
    “A lot of people have come and gone through that front door over the years.” She pursed her lips again. “Some nicer than others.”
    “I gather you didn’t approve of all of the tenants.”
    “Wasn’t so much about approving or not approving, it was more like some people thinking they were too good to mingle with others.” Ella sniffed loudly. “Every tenant with the exception of one invited me over, not that she stayed long, good riddance. Claimed to be a tarot card reader. Last I heard she was doing readings at