It's A Wonderful Midlife Crisis (Good To The Last Death #1) - Robyn Peterman Page 0,53

save John. He was already dead. But I could save the next guy and make sure that no one thought John had killed himself.

Grabbing my phone and my purse, I headed out the front door. I almost grabbed my glasses but grinned when I realized I didn’t need them. Getting older was good. I liked it.

“I’ll be back later,” I yelled over my shoulder to the ghosts. “I’ll glue your parts on tonight. I promise.”

I rolled my eyes as I got back into my car. The things I was saying lately were stranger than strange.

Face it. I was stranger than strange… but I planned to wear it well.

“Hi, I’m Daisy,” I said, staring at Sarina Dunn and willing myself not to tackle her and beat her murdering ass to a pulp. I prayed that the smile on my face looked sincere and not like my teeth were gritted together because I hated her. “I understand you’ve been recently widowed.”

“I have,” Sarina said, narrowing her eyes and keeping her front door only partially open.

“I’m so sorry,” I told her, looking down at my trembling hands. I was a terrible liar. Why I thought I could pull this off was beyond me. Clearly, I didn’t think. But I was here and I was going to finish it. “I’m a widow too. My husband died last year.”

Mentally, I apologized to Steve for using his death in my scheme. However, I didn’t think he would mind in this case. His sense of justice had been enormous.

Sarina at least had the manners to look somewhat compassionate about my loss. She was Southern. Even murdering bitches in the south wouldn’t want it to get around town that they were rude. I could possibly guilt her into letting me in.

“I’m so sorry,” she said.

“Thank you. May I come in,” I inquired politely. “It’s a bit chilly out and I forgot my coat.”

I didn’t forget my coat. It was in the car with Karen—my new dog. I could already tell she was a chewer. I had no clue if my coat would be wearable when I finished here, but I had a few others. The dog had been so excited to get busted out of the pound she almost did a freaking backflip as I walked her out to my car. She was every kind of nuts, and I was already in love with her.

Sarina only hesitated a fraction of a second. She didn’t want to invite me in, but I’d given her no choice.

“Of course,” she said with a smile that was only on her lips. Her eyes were still narrowed.

“Thank you so much,” I said, breezing right past her and walking into the house.

I spotted the chair immediately. Walking right over to it, I sat down.

“You have a lovely home,” I told her.

It was lovely. John had clearly been rich—very rich.

“Thank you,” Sarina said, glancing at her diamond-encrusted watch. “I have an appointment shortly. May I ask why you’re here?”

“Oh,” I said with a laugh and then a cough. “I’m so sorry. I have seasonal allergies. Do you have some water?”

I continued to cough and pound my chest as she watched me warily. I didn’t blame her. I was acting seriously weird.

“Not a problem,” she said. “Wait here, please.”

As soon as she left the room, I shoved my hand into the side of the chair and searched for the phone. Bingo. My hand shook like a leaf as I shoved one of the last objects John had touched when he was alive into my purse. I got what I came for. Now I needed to get the hell out.

“Here you go,” she said, handing me a glass of water that I wouldn’t drink if my life depended on it. The heinous woman was known for poisoning drinks. “I think I must have missed the reason for your visit.”

“Yes. Sorry,” I said, slapping my forehead. “I’m in a widows support group and wondered if you might want to participate. It can be very life-affirming to be with other women who have lived through the experience. Of course, most of the gals are in their seventies and eighties, but they’re a hoot. We meet five days a week and we rotate homes. We usually do potluck and then take the leftovers to the homeless shelter afterward. It’s our way of honoring the lives of our husbands. So, does that sound like something that might interest you?”

She was looking at me like I had a few screws loose, which