A Drizzle of Trouble: The Cookies and Kilts Cozy Mysteries

Chapter One

A s much as I enjoyed our vacation, it's good to be back home. Even if this March temperature is a shock to my system. Ron Bailey, a fifty-five year old man who kept his graying hair covered with dye and his burgeoning beer belly covered with an over-sized denim shirt, slammed his car door shut. He walked to the rear of the vehicle, opened the lid of the car's trunk, and grabbed the two suitcases. Sun and sand and sea are wonderful things as a whole, but I hold to Dorothy Gale's motto.

Sherry Bailey, his wife of thirty-seven years, struggled out of her car seat but stood at the door, frowning. What are you talking about?

"You know. Dorothy. From The Wizard of Oz. She said there's no place like home. He set the suitcases on the driveway and closed the trunk. Don't you agree?"

Ordinarily, I might. But the happiness of this homecoming's a bit diluted. She pushed a lock of her brown hair behind her ear and nodded toward the house. In case you haven't noticed, take a gander at our palatial palace.

Ron shifted his gaze from the luggage to the house and took a hesitant step forward. Lord! What on earth...

The roof directly over the living room was devoid of shingles, and a tree limb straddled the roof's edge and gutter. Ron stared at a few of the shingles lying on the grass, speaking more to them than to Sherry. It must've rained.

Brilliant. Sherry scuffed her shoe across the puddle near the car's front tire. I bet you got that hint from the water dripping from the smashed gutter.

The suitcases forgotten, Ron took a hesitant step toward the house, then stopped and turned toward his wife. His voice faltered slightly, portraying his confusion. Why didn't Tara phone us?

She might have tried. We weren't exactly in a heavy cell tower area.

But she had the hotel's number.

I don't know, Ron. Try as I do, I'm not a mind reader. This could've just happened and she hasn't been able to reach us. Have you turned your phone back on?

Ron pulled his cell phone from his jacket pocket and touched the screen. It lit up, revealing a slash mark across a small bell graphic. "No. Mia culpa. Ah, here's a message, he added as his finger pressed the 'Messages' icon. He read it aloud. I tried to get you but I guess you were enroute. Your house has been slightly damaged. Not bad. Don't worry. He looked up. I don't know what she means by slightly damaged, but it looks bad from here. This is gonna cost us some money."

You always do see the glass half empty. Come on. She grabbed her two suitcases and walked past him as she headed toward the front door.

Ron hurriedly extracted his luggage from the car trunk and shuffled after her before unlocking the house door. Pushing it open, he peered inside, then expressed his feelings in a four-letter word and exhaled deeply. If a man's home is his castle, I'll hate to see the rest of the estate.

Sherry set her suitcases on the floor and walked into the center of the room. Most of it was intact, as they had left it a week ago before their vacation: the pale blue painted walls, the floor-to-ceiling oak bookcases bracketing the large stone fireplace, and the large bow window looking onto the front lawn. But the wall-to-wall carpet was wet near the fireplace, looking as if it were more a sponge than a floor covering, now that it was wet from the water still drizzling from the ceiling. And some pieces of furniture—the bocote wood coffee table and a satin-fabric wingback chair, to name a few—were stained with water and obviously ruined. She strolled over to the large pedal harp sitting a few feet from the wet table and thumped the instrument's column. Without turning toward Ron, she said, At least you can still fiddle around while the walls crash down beside you. That should comfort you. Hello, dears. Glad to see mama? She bent as two cats—a Siberian Forest and a Scottish Fold—sauntered up to her. Petting them, she added, At least you two are safe and dry. Has Tara fed you yet? It's past your lunchtime.

Ours too, Sherry. I'm starved.

Ignoring his statement, she turned toward him as the front door crashed against the wall. "What are you doing, Ron?"

Sorry. Didn't mean to pull so hard on the door. Hope the wall's okay.

What difference does it make with the living room like it is? This thing's going to take some major work.

I'm going to look at the exterior. There could be more shingles off the roof in the rear. And maybe another part of the tree. If you're going to make a sandwich, would you make me one? This reconnoitering won't take long.

If you're as starving as you claim, have lunch now. Surely Alex can see what needs mending when he comes over to give us a repair estimate. Isn't that right, Piper? She picked up the Scottish Fold cat and cradled him to her chest.

Let's go get some lunch. You look hungry. Come along, Max, she added as the second cat sniffed the base of the harp. Mama's got a new can of yum-yum for you. Sherry walked into the kitchen as Ron stepped outside.

She rummaged about in a cabinet and grabbed a tin of cat food. After opening it, she plopped a spoonful in each cat dish and set the can on the countertop. The cats hurried up to their places and began eating. Not so quickly, Max, she said, looking at the large Siberian Forest. "You don't want to get a tummy ache. I doubt that daddy would appreciate driving you to the V-E-T when he's focused on the sick house.

Not that he doesn't love you, but you know how he is. Tunnel vision and one-track mind. But mommy loves you." She gave the cat a pat on his shoulder, and returned to the living room, where she placed a large mixing bowl beneath the ceiling drip. The plop of water hitting the container sounded loud in the otherwise quiet of the house. Satisfied with her clean-up contribution, she carried her suitcases upstairs.

She stopped in the doorway of her room and stared open-mouthed at her bed. It seemed to be the target of another trickle of water, for an intermittent plop plop plop fell from the ceiling above the piece of furniture and splatted onto the bedspread. It was dotted with wet patches, and water had splashed onto the carpet and wallpaper near the headboard. The wall's top corner, as well as the ceiling, showed cracks and soggy patches where water seeped through.

Sherry set her luggage in the hall and hurried downstairs as she heard the front door open and close.

Just as I said before, Ron said as his wife entered the living room. This is gonna cost us some money.

Open your wallet, dear. Our bedroom didn't escape the vengeance of Thor, or whoever the rain god is.

Ron moaned, glancing at the staircase. Is it bad?

She shrugged and sat on the couch. I have no idea what Alex will label it, but it'll take some expert TLC. You want to phone him with the good news or shall I?

I can't believe this. We're gone for one week and come back to...to— He gritted his teeth, rubbing his forehead. Of all the—

Now, now. Don't get angry and explode, dear. You'll need another vacation to calm down.

Another vacation? He gave her a look that suggested he didn't think much of her joke. We could afford this one only because you won that slogan contest.

Sherry smiled and patted her lap as Piper jumped onto the couch. It was a great entry, wasn't it? 'The best way to get plastered is with Goo Globs.' Catchy. Who can forget such a product when they need plaster? She gave the cat a pretend kiss on the nose before adding, Too bad there's a non-competition clause or whatever it is in the contest rules. I could've also offered my slogan as a drunk driving campaign. Of course, it would need a slight alternation, such as leaving off the product name Goo Globs, but I could come up with something. Couldn't I, Piper? She gave the cat a final pat before he jumped down and padded over to the harp.

Will you stop talking to the cats and help me think? Ron strode over to the foot of the staircase and gazed upwards, as if he could see the bedroom. Should we increase our deductible so we don't have to pay so much out of pocket next time?

"Next time? Lord, I hope there won't be a next time. Anyway, aren't you doing all this backwards?"

Ron turned toward her, frowning. What do you mean? I should have my lunch first?

No. I mean phone Alex to come out to look at everything and write up the claim for the insurance. Then you can talk to him about changing the deductible. You can't do that now, when we're about to put in a homeowners claim.

Oh. Sure. That would seem a bit unprofessional, as though I was asking him to do something shady before the claim was processed.

Sherry waved her hand at him, shooing him from the room. Go look at the bedroom, then phone Alex, then have lunch. I don't know how you conduct your council meetings, but I'm sure you're the first mayor of Beaudin Trace who's on his way to having an indoor swimming pool in his house.

Ron's hands balled into fists as he glared at her. I don't know about that, but I'd say it speaks of a certain councilman who constantly wishes the house will fall down around my ears. That's in addition to something else that's more permanent in the Unlucky Fortune category.

Chapter Two

Alex Tabb finished his assessment of the damage to the house and now sat at the walnut dining room table, a glass of iced tea in his hand, and Sherry and Ron across from him. He was in his mid-thirties and of average height, but he had an unusually thick mop of hair. In his younger years he had tried various hair styles to give him the most flattering look. Now, approaching his forties, he settled for a style that was not only easy to maintain but also announced his professionalism to his clients.

You've seen the house exterior and all the interior rooms. What's the verdict? Ron picked up his glass, stared at it, then set it down again. He wiped his hand across his forehead, as if steeling himself for the bad news.

It could always be worse, Ron. Alex smiled but his voice hinted at less than glorious news. So did his glance around the room. It, as well as the home's entire interior that personified the Baileys' panache and wealth, was done up in the French Country style. It was a perfect choice to showcase the couple's antiques and upscale furnishings. Not the least of which was Ron's beloved pedal harp. It had always struck Alex strange that the instrument blended in so well with the interior decor, and he always wondered if it were a chicken-or-the-egg thing: did Ron buy the harp because it went so well with the room's style, or did they furnish the residence in keeping with the harp?

Ron sniffed. "Most anything could be worse, but I'm interested in this house. What's your finding?"

Yes, Sherry said, patting her husband's hand. Tell him, Alex, before he dies of suspense. Just another half minute, dear, she said, angling her head toward Ron. I hope you can hold on.

Alex opened his notepad and glanced at the form on which he had marked the items needing repair and their estimated cost. He patted the top of the table. Might as well start with the bocote wood coffee table in the living room.

Ron wiped his forehead with his palm, wincing. Lord, I can't imagine what that'll cost to refinish it.

It's a shame it's sustained water damage. The zebra-like dark and white pattern of the wood is beautiful.

"It's an expensive wood. And it's been in my family for centuries. I won't let just anyone restore it."

We have a list of qualified people for all types of items, Alex went on, nodding his head. You can choose from them to qualify for your insurance reimbursement. As to everything else... He consulted his list again. Roof structure and shingles, interior walls and ceilings, carpet in the bedroom and living room, water damage to the floors beneath the carpets and damage to five pieces of furniture, new wallpaper of living room and bedroom walls, replacement of water damaged books and objects d'art, reupholster several chairs, replace ruined wood in the bookcase... He shifted his gaze to Ron. Grand total. Handing the sheet of paper to Ron, he added, The insurance will cover a good portion of it. However, there is your deductible, which might seem a lot to you and Sherry, but considering what this would have cost if you hadn't the insurance... Well, it's not that much.

Sherry leaned over Ron's shoulder to see the notations better. Ron's in shock, Alex, and probably didn't hear a word you said. So, I'll ask what I know would be his next question. When can the house repairs start?

That all depends on which company you enlist. Names are noted on this. He handed her another page of paper.

Nice that you have them grouped by their expertise and type of work they do. This'll make it easier for him. She patted Ron's forearm. It'll all look better once the work starts, dear. Trust me. You'll survive.

Ron nodded and pulled the page of recommended businesses from her hand. Your empathy is overwhelming, Sherry.

Oh, Ron. For goodness sakes. We're covered. This is why we have insurance. Alex is right when he says it could be worse. Your harp wasn't damaged.

You're right. Sorry, Alex. It's such a shock to find all this as we came back from our vacation.

Alex closed his notepad and leaned back in his chair. I can only imagine. When Tara told me what had happened, I found it difficult to believe. I mean, we had that storm. Well, it was more or less a small pseudo tornado. A few places in town had minor damage like holes in roofs and broken windows and such. I think your place is one of the worst of the lot, unfortunately. But fortunately, it's mendable and books can be replaced. He took a sip of iced tea and set it back on the coaster. I hope this hasn't spoiled your remembrance of your week away. By the way, how was your trip?

Very nice. Relaxing as well as informative.

You probably told me or Tara, but I forgot, sorry. Where'd you go?

Jamaica. Sherry won a slogan contest and the trip was the grand prize.

Nice. I'll put Tara onto one when I hear of something similar.

We stopped at Montego Bay for two days, then spent the rest of the week at Ocho Rios. Incredible beach and ocean. We toured Dunn's River Falls. That isn't to be missed. Sherry swam in one of the lagoon pools.

You didn't?

Ron shook his head. I've never been a swimmer.

Sherry patted his hand. "Maybe not, but you're an enthusiastic treasure hunter and amateur historian, and a very good photographer. You and Tara must