Dumpster Dicing (Bunco Biddies Book 1) Read online

  “Piece of slime, that George McGuffy.” Ethel crossed her arms over her chest. “I thought he lathered on the charm a bit too thick.”

  “Wait. No. That’s not right.” Blake straightened up. “The George I meant had the last name of...” He dug his notes out of his jacket pocket and dabbed his finger to his tongue. As he took his sweet time flipping through the pages, Betsy Ann held her breath until Janie figured she’d keel over from lack of oxygen.

  “Ah. Here we go. McBerger.” He laughed. “Reminded me of a fast food joint.”

  Betsy Ann let out a whimper of relief and gripped Ethel’s hand.

  Janie squeezed her other one. “Oh, Betsy Ann, I am so glad.” She smiled at her sweet, ditzy, but lovable friend whose countenance once again glowed.

  “Me, too.” She took a gulp of water.

  For a moment, a quiet peace hovered in the room.

  Then Janie did a double take. “Wait. Did L.W. stand for Lenny Weber?”

  Blake perched in the arm of the couch. “No. For the Lazy West.

  Janie slapped her forehead. “Of course. From the court transcripts. Where Lopez and Smithers were arrested.”

  Blake nodded. “The ranch is now Sunset Acres, along with the upscale subdivision down the road called Westfield Ranch. The owner, Lawrence Westmont, sold his acreage to your developers eight years ago after he suffered a stroke. Wanted a place to live out his old age on the land he once loved. The full care unit was built first, then the assisted living and the condos. He died in the nursing unit about two years ago.”

  “But Lopez and Smithers didn’t know the ranch had been sold?”

  “That’s right, Ethel.” Blake grinned. “You ladies do have a flare for this sleuthing stuff. They hid out in the old cabin, which by then had become deserted, and buried the loot somewhere on the acreage. That cabin sat where the middle of Westfield subdivision is now. Little did they know their one-time benefactor resided just down the road with round-the-clock care.”

  “Emilio wanted to get hold of the loot, huh? So why try to free Lenny?”

  Blake chuckled. “For the same reason Edwin agreed to go to prison. Money problems that would not go away or wait until he chased after the legendary bank loot. He had hoped Edwin had lots of ready cash on him, so he killed him. Edwin didn’t. After he paid his lease in cash so no background check would be needed, his niece placed the rest in a trust, set up by the attorney so Edwin could live off the dividends. Not finding the cash at Edwin’s place, Emilio felt the pressure breathing down on him, so he came up with a plan B to get quick cash.”

  Janie leaned back, hands folded. “Spring Lenny Weber and get not only money but protection in return, which would allow him time to locate the loot with Bobby’s help.”

  “Exactly.”

  Betsy Ann scrunched her eyebrows. “Is all that stolen money really somewhere around here?”

  Blake shrugged. “Lopez and Smithers won’t talk, so the banks are hiring land investigators to find out. I know one thing. I’d not want to be Emilio right now.”

  Everyone laughed.

  Chapter Forty–SEVEN

  The next Thursday at six in the evening, Janie’s living room filled with her friends rattling dice and chatting, Mildred included. The Feds allowed her to spend a good hour and a half with Bobby before they whisked him away. She knew it was for the best and all would work out as God planned. Even so, she couldn’t go back to her garden home so she put in a request to move into one of the vacant condos after the management painted and did minor repairs. In the meantime, she occupied Ethel’s guest room.

  Janie now sported a Velcro-laced boot and received permission to drive again. Her mood improved dramatically. The cut on her cheek had begun to heal, which Babs attributed to the special essential oils and herbal cream she sold on the side to supplement her widow’s benefits. Janie didn’t have the heart to tell her she’d thrown the little jar in the trash the second day.

  “So, Janie.” Roseanne glanced at her as she rolled for threes. “Have you gotten the sleuthing bug out of your system?”

  Ethel giggled as she rolled the dice at the next table. “I think Melody will beat it out of her if she doesn’t.”

  She twisted to catch Janie’s eye. “Though for an amateur, you did good, my friend.”

  Janie thrust her hands to her hips. “I beg your pardon, Miss nose-in-a-mystery-book. I lived with the best detective this area of Texas has ever seen for—”

  “—forty-two years.” The three women at her table chimed together.

  Every one of the Bunco biddies laughed.

  Roseanne halted her roll. “Well, I thought you might like to know about the young woman found dead behind the Get ’em and Go today. And get this. The real estate agent listing the Newman residence found a newborn infant this morning in the bathtub!”

  Janie and Ethel gazed at each other wide-eyed.

  Betsy Ann rested her head in her hands. “Here we go again.”

  And even more from Julie B Cosgrove…

  The Bunco Biddies Mystery Series

  Three widows, who live in a Sunset Acres retirement community, host Bunco games every Thursday evening.

  Betsy Ann, a retired columnist for the Alamoville, Texas community newspaper, considers herself a seasoned reporter, due to her articles in the Garden and Home section.

  Ethel, a cozy mystery aficionado, can recall each episode of Murder She Wrote and Columbo. She catalogs every one of the who-dunnit paperbacks in her library by how the murders were committed.

  Janie is the widow of a renowned Austin, Texas police detective. He often bounced his most difficult cases off her brain.

  So when their neighbors start reporting bodies, the three hop into action, despite the fact that Janie’s son-in-law happens to be Alamoville’s competent chief homicide detective.

  Up Next…

  Baby Bunco

  Early 2017

  “Did you say she found a baby?” Janie stopped mid-roll, the pink and white dice warming in her clutched fist. “Here in Sunset Acres, a retirement community?”

  Babs, seated to her left at the Bunco table, nodded. “That’s what Mildred told me as we were walking up to your front stoop tonight. Right, Mildred?”

  “I went to collect a few more of my things since I’m staying with Ethel, and no more than three minutes later the leasing agent pounded on my door. ‘Come see,’ she motioned to me. Her eyes grew as wide as those mega donuts at the Crusty Baker.” She thumped her pencil against her score pad and groaned. “It took every ounce of gumption to follow her into that—ugh!—place next door.” She quivered her shoulders.

  Janie shifted her gaze to the woman sitting across from her. “Ethel, you knew about this?”

  “I did.”

  “And you didn’t tell me?” Her voice elevated to echo-off –the-ceiling volume. She humphed and pivoted to face the storyteller. “Mildred. What happened?”

  The other eight ladies halted their Bunco round. Each swiveled to listen in, their eyes fixated on the first card table.

  Mildred leaned. “I paused at the steps, determined to not go inside. Only peek in from the front door. Then high-pitched, frantic cries came from the direction of the bathroom. Well, I had to rush to its aid. Every motherly fiber in my being dictated it.”

  Murmurs and head bobs filtered through Janie’s living rom.

  Mildred sniffled. “Poor little thing. Alone, scared and red as a beet from wailing so hard. That house is cursed, I tell you.”

  Janie patted her hand. “Now, dear. Just because someone murdered Edwin soon after he moved in there doesn’t mean...”

  Mildred shot from her seat and paced, her arms flaying in circles, resembling the duck windmill on top of the antiques barn down the road. “Ever since I relocated into Sunset Acres it’s been one thing after another. Edwin murdered, then my nephew Bobby arrested, and now an abandoned newborn in a bathtub? This is supposed to be a quiet retirement community.”

  “Maybe beca
use you live on Solar Boulevard.” Annie huffed. “Nothing weird ever happens on my street, Sunrise Court, except for an occasional stray golf ball. Then again, if you kept your nose out of everyone’s business...” Her voice trailed off with a smug cock of her head.

  “My nose?”

  The other ladies mumbled to each other.

  Ethel blew a whistle through her teeth. “Okay, everyone calm down. We all lived through the ruckus of one of our neighbor’s brutal murder last month. It’s not Mildred’s fault. Nor mine or Janie’s that this happened...”

  Betsy Ann raised her hand, as if her legs once again dangled from under her desk in Ms. Everett’s kindergarten classroom.

  Janie rolled her eyes. “What?”

  “Well, it is sort of our fault.” She pointed to Janie, Ethel and herself. “We helped solve the case and Bobby did wind up in the middle of all of the commotion. That’s why he threatened you and tried to break into your house.” She folded her hands and gazed down at them. “I’m just saying...”

  “Duly noted.” Janie felt the healing, pinkish wound on her neck where his knife grazed her skin. “I must add, my dear son-in-law, Chief Detective Blake Johnson, appreciated all of our...” her hands encircled the room...”research, sleuthing and cunningness. He told me so.”A smile curled along the edges of her mouth. “Besides, it did beat back the doldrums a while, right?’

  A few silvery head bounced in agreement as the condo sprinkled with giggles. Annie crossed her arms and harumphed.

  Janie eased over to Mildred and led her back to her designated chair. She patted her on the shoulders and scanned the room, making certain every slightly glaucoma-pressed or cataract-corrected eye fixated on her. “Now we must figure out who placed a newborn baby in a vacant garden home bathtub and why?”

  Babs cocked an eyebrow. “We do?”

  “Absolutely. Let’s face facts. Someone put the little thing in a home in our community so she would be discovered. Therefore it is our responsibility...”

  “Well, now. I’m not sure...” Mildred frowned.

  “We are all over fifty-five, correct? The child certainly doesn’t belong to one of us. If so, we should be renamed Sarah after Abraham’s elderly wife in Genesis.”

  “Or Elizabeth in the New Testament.” Betsy Ann added, this time with a forefinger, not a full hand, aloft.

  “Exactly. Therefore, unless one of you wants to confess...”

  Cackles ensued.

  Janie allowed the cacophony to settle, her eyes glimmering with escalating excitement. “I, for one, do not think this is a coincidence that this wee one ended up in Edwin’s old garden home. There may be a connection we overlooked. Blake never discovered who left long, black hairs in that comb or ruby red lipstick on those empty beer cans when the police searched his place for clues.”

  Ethel scoffed. “Pffft. We all can guess what she was, even if we don’t know who.”

  The women eyed each other and chuckled.

  Annie shook her head. “But the officials only released him from prison a couple of days before he died, right? Last I heard it takes nine months to make a baby.”

  Mildred arched her eyebrow. “I thought it only took one night.”

  Several of the elderly ladies laughed so loud Janie’s china tea service jiggled.

  Janie pumped her hand toward the floor. “All right. All right. Even so, someone knew that home remained unoccupied.”

  Babs flipped up her palms. “His demise dominated the local news for several weeks. Which means thousands of readers learned it.”

  Roseanne Rodriguez spoke up. “More than that. Hundreds of thousands. It was all over the news, too.”

  Mildred flayed her arms. “That narrows it down a bunch.”

  More laughter.

  Janie tapped her fist to the card table. The hum of comments faded. “True, Roseanne. However, I don’t recall them specifically giving out the address, even if everyone heard Betsy Ann and I discovered him in the community dumpster here at Sunset Acres.”

  “So, whoever dropped the baby girl off cased the joint and determined no one lived there anymore.” Ethel, the one with the massive catalogues mystery paperback collection, offered the proverbial gumshoe response.

  “Which means they planned to leave her at that garden home.” Janie snapped her fingers. “Yes, that has to be it. So a person or persons unknown, who wouldn’t attract attention as they wandered around our senior retirement village, knew about this pregnancy and somehow persuaded the mother to give up the poor thing.”

  Babs clucked her teeth. “Well, it does happen.”

  “Yes, but what gets me is they figured someone would find the infant fairly quickly.”

  “A ‘For Lease or Sale’ sign is planted plain as day on the front lawn.” Annie shoved the last bite of butterscotch brownie into her mouth.

  Janie gave her a nod. “Good point. Still, there must be homes all over this area for sale or rent. Why our little corner of the world? A fifty-five plus community. Why not a neighborhood with young families? That’s what we must discover. Something tells me the answer might be the key to the whole dilemma.”

  Ethel leaned into Betsy Ann. “Get a load of Janie. Proud as a peacock and giddy as a school girl. She’s in her element. A new game’s afoot.”

  Betsy Ann lowered her auburn, curly head into her hands. “Here we go again. Bunco Biddies to the rescue whether anyone wants us involved or not.”

  Coming in 2017 from Prism Book Group!

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Julie B Cosgrove is a novelist, but she also writes devotionals and inspirational articles for several publications and websites on a regular basis. She won national awards for her creative writing skills in high school. In college she won the American Bible Society’s Religion Major of the Year award and went on to study in seminary until the birth of her son, who was in and out of the hospital most of his childhood. However, she never lost the itch to write. After a hiatus of thirty years, she once again picked up the pen and became a freelance writer.

  In 2015, Julie was selected as “one of the fifty writers you should be reading” by the nationally syndicated radio broadcast, The Author Show. She has four novels, two novellas and six non-fiction works published as well as a short story which won second place in a state-wide competition. Dumpster Dicing is the first of several Bunco Biddies Mysteries. Be sure to check out her Prism Book Group suspense romance novels, Hush in the Storm, Legitimate Lies and Freed to Forgive.

  When she isn’t writing, she is a part-time church secretary, active in her own church, and a spokesman for anti-trafficking missionaries. She also is a professional speaker and leads women’s retreats, Bible studies and writer workshops.

  A native Texan, Julie is a widow who lives in Fort Worth with two spoiled-rotten and lovable house cats whom she dubs her ”beastie boys.” She enjoys clean, cozy mysteries in print and on film, especially British ones. She is an avid word puzzle player and loves to spend time floating in the Guadalupe River at her maternal family’s property in the Texas Hill Country.

  Visit her website, www.juliebcosgrove.com and follow her devotional blog, http://wheredidyoufindgodtoday.com.

  If you’ve enjoyed this novel, please consider leaving the author a review. Your thoughts and feedback are very much appreciated.

  Thank you for your Prism Book Group purchase! Visit our website to enjoy free reads, great deals, and entertaining, wholesome fiction!

  http://www.prismbookgroup.com

 

 

 
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