Inked Up Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Acknowledgements

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

  Stamping Project

  Praise for Stamped Out

  “Packed full of family drama and small-town charm, Thayer’s enjoyable mystery series debut outshines most other crafting cozies . . . Twists and turns keep the story fresh and compulsively readable, and the characters feel like family by the time the last page is turned. Thayer and the Stamping Sisters are worth keeping an eye on.”

  —Publishers Weekly (starred review)

  “Great . . . A fresh tale . . . The protagonist is a likable, loyal yet flawed person.”—Midwest Book Review

  “Well written . . . I’m hoping this series goes on for a very long time.”—BestsellersWorld.com

  “This is a great book. Well written, fast-paced, descriptive, and well-developed . . . Enjoy, as I did!”—MyShelf.com

  “A fast-paced read that will keep you guessing until the very last page . . . An author to watch.”

  —Deb Baker, author of Ding Dong Dead

  Berkley Prime Crime titles by Terri Thayer

  STAMPED OUT

  INKED UP

  THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP

  Published by the Penguin Group

  Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA

  Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario M4P 2Y3, Canada

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  Penguin Books Ltd., 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

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  (a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd.)

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  South Africa

  Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  INKED UP

  A Berkley Prime Crime Book / published by arrangement with the author

  PRINTING HISTORY

  Berkley Prime Crime mass-market edition / August 2009

  Copyright © 2009 by Terri Thayer.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form

  without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in

  violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  For information, address: The Berkley Publishing Group,

  a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.

  eISBN : 978-1-101-10888-8

  BERKLEY® PRIME CRIME

  Berkley Prime Crime Books are published by The Berkley Publishing Group,

  a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.

  BERKLEY® PRIME CRIME and the PRIME CRIME logo are trademarks of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  http://us.penguingroup.com

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Thanks to my ever-ready critique group, Beth Proudfoot and Becky Levine. They always know what I need to move my story forward.

  Thanks to Sandy Harding and the various editors at Berkley Prime Crime, who make my work better with their insights.

  CHAPTER 1

  “Mother Goose, tell us a story,” April said.

  Mary Lou, dressed in a white puffy-sleeve blouse and very short skirt, struck a pose, licking her finger dramatically as though she were turning a page in a giant story-book.

  “You look more like the St. Pauli girl than Mother Goose anyhow,” Rocky said, snapping the top of her thigh-highs. “All you need is a bowl full of pretzels.”

  “Danke,” Mary Lou said, dropping into a curtsy and pretending to scowl at Rocky. “What do you think?” she asked, directing her remark at April. “Too slutty?”

  Uh-oh. April Buchert meant to be diplomatic, but the wine that Rocky had been liberally pouring had stripped her of her usual filters, so she found herself blurting out, “That vest is working like a push-up bra, giving you Dolly Parton boobs. But with the right accessories . . .”

  April’s voice petered out as she saw the look on Mary Lou’s face. Ever since her daughter had given birth to twins, Mary Lou had been fighting dressing her age. She was afraid people would assume she was old just because she was a grandmother.

  “Where’s Suzi, anyhow?” April asked. “It’s her party.”

  When Rocky had offered her aunt Barbara Harcourt’s collection of Halloween costumes to the group for their upcoming stint helping Suzi at her nursery’s inaugural corn maze, April had pictured them in a dank basement or musty attic, pawing through trunks of vintage clothing.

  Instead, the five of them were in Rocky’s studio, which took up the top floor of her long ranch house that overlooked the valley. A professional rack of clothes had been installed along one wall. The floor was littered with red bras and tulle skirts and see-through tops. Aunt Barbara—Mrs. H., as April knew her—had a thing for sexy Halloween costumes. TMI. April was helping in the restoration of Mrs. H.’s mansion every day. She really didn’t need to know this about the woman she was working for.

  Rocky had put out a spread of smoked salmon, veggies and cheese. And poured the Dolcetto. Good thing April had ridden over with Deana. The wine was going down too smoothly.

  April, Deana, Mary Lou, Rocky and Suzi were all rubber stampers. They got together each week to craft, usually without imbibing. Sometimes they made projects from the Stamping Sisters line of stamps Deana sold, but just as often they worked on creating their own designs.

  Rocky was a mixed-media artist, earning her living by selling her collages at tourist spots in the Poconos and Bucks County. The shelves and wooden library drawers of her studio contained the photos, paint, fabric, found objects and stamps she used. The walls were covered with works in progress, giving the place an inspiring air.

  Mary Lou was a realtor, and like Suzi, she stamped for stress relief. April was a home restoration expert, using stamps to fill the walls of her clients’ homes.

  “Ta-da!”

  April and Deana turned to see Rocky striking a pose. She’d finished getting into her Liza-Minnelli-in-Cabaret getup with miles and miles of leg. She looked great. The black bodysuit emphasized her small
waist and the black felt bowler perching on her usual fall of hair emphasized its smoky darkness.

  The door opened and Suzi, the owner of Dowling Nursery, huffed in, lugging a big cardboard box.

  Suzi was aghast. “No way.”

  Rocky cocked her head at the newcomer. “Not scary enough? I could put a scar on my neck and do dripping blood . . .” Rocky checked herself out in the mirror over the dresser, craning her neck, using her red fingernails to illustrate her point.

  Suzi was shaking her head. “We’re not doing sexy. Or scary.”

  Rocky stopped making come-hither looks at the mirror and faced Suzi. “You said we were working the Halloween corn maze. Old chum.”

  “You are. I need you guys to work the admittance table and the make ’n’ take project for the children. Kids, get it, kids.”

  “I want to be Mother Goose,” Mary Lou said, coming out of the bathroom.

  “You’re not going like that?” Suzi said, her voice squawking with disbelief.

  Rocky and Mary Lou exchanged a glance. “We look good,” Rocky said.

  “Hot,” Mary Lou agreed, returning to the bathroom mirror to make sure.

  Suzi shook her head. “That would be great if we were going to the club’s Halloween ball. The Pumpkin Express is a strictly PG affair. I had to sign an affidavit.”

  Rocky balanced on one foot, strapping on one red stiletto. “Well, that doesn’t sound like much fun.”

  Suzi said, “What can I tell you? This is tame. The Pumpkin Express is in the daytime, and my A.maz.ing Corn Maze is supposed to be fun, not earth-shatteringly scary. Definitely not sexy.”

  The Pumpkin Express, or “PE” as it was called by the locals, had been started a few years ago by seven Aldenville businesses. On the Saturday before Halloween, each turned their place into a Halloween destination. They challenged the customers to visit every business and take part in their festivities. In one day. At each venue, the customer would collect a stamp on their PE Passport. People who completed the route, with a stamp from each location, were eligible for prizes.

  After last year when the Popper Petting Zoo had dropped out, Dowling Nursery was voted in. Though she had been featuring a fall corn maze for the last few years, this was the first year Suzi’s place would be an official stop on the Pumpkin Express. That meant thousands of people would be going through her corn maze, maybe spending money in the gift shop, and hopefully returning to the nursery in the spring for their annuals. It was a great opportunity for Suzi.

  But there were rules to be followed.

  “That sucks,” Rocky said. She put on the heels anyway and strutted around the room. April heard her humming strains of “Life is a Cabaret.” Rocky switched to “Puttin’ on the Ritz” as she joined Mary Lou in the bathroom. She complained loudly about not being allowed to scare little children.

  Suzi sighed and dumped the contents of the box she’d been carrying onto the bed. Costumes spilled out.

  “These are not sexy,” April said. She pulled out two hats: a Sherlock Holmes deer hunter and a pirate’s trefoil, complete with fake parrot.

  “Good,” Deana said. “Maybe I can find something to wear.”

  As the owner of the local funeral home, Deana’s costume options were limited. No Grim Reaper or Casper the Friendly Ghost for her. Even Snow White brought up reminders of the coffin the fairy tale princess had spent her coma in. Deana couldn’t afford to alienate any potential clients.

  “I’ll help you find something more appropriate,” Suzi said.

  “Where’s Mitch, April?” Rocky said, joining them and pawing through the clothes. “My brother needs a costume, too. Maybe you two could use the Sonny and Cher outfits my parents wore in 1978.”

  Eww. April didn’t fancy dressing like Mitch’s parents or washed-up rock stars.

  Deana shot her a sympathetic look. She knew April was keeping her relationship with Mitch quiet, letting it grow slowly, out of the very public eye of the small town they lived in.

  “I don’t know where Mitch is,” April said. That was literally true. Not at this exact moment, anyhow.

  “Are you going to see him later?” Rocky asked.

  Mitch came over to April’s most nights, after their long workdays were over, for a few hours.

  “Probably not,” April answered. “I have an appointment with Xenia Villarreal.”

  Rocky popped her head through the green shift that Suzi had dropped over her.

  “Kind of late for an appointment, isn’t it?” She used air quotes around the word “appointment” and looked significantly at the clock. “It’s nearly nine now. And on a school night,” she said.

  “Xenia is the mom of the family that won Mitch’s lottery?” Deana asked.

  April knew Deana was trying to shift Rocky out of her nosy sister mode. Rocky was always fishing for more information. April thought it was up to Mitch to talk to his sister, not her. “That’s right, Dee. Mitch’s first Winchester Home for Hope.”

  Rocky buckled the patent leather black belt severely over the green shift. Adding a felt hat, she looked like she had stepped straight out of Sherwood Forest. “This is what my brother should be wearing. He’s the real Robin Hood, robbing the rich and giving to the poor.”

  “He’s not really robbing anyone,” April said, wondering if that meant she was his Marian.

  “You know what I mean. Aunt Barbara’s land, some money donations, and suddenly my brother is building homes for the downtrodden.”

  Deana said, “It’s a wonderful thing Mitch is doing. He saw a need for low-income housing and he’s stepped up.”

  Rocky smiled. “No argument from me. My brother is quite a guy.”

  April said, “Anyhow, Xenia is coming after her kids are all in bed. We’re going over paint choices for the house.”

  “Is the house that far along?” Suzi asked. “That was fast.”

  The stampers had all been at the groundbreaking ceremony for Mitch’s Winchester Homes for Hope two months earlier.

  “Prefab housing can go up very quickly,” Rocky said. “He used a kit house for the shell.”

  “And lots of volunteers,” April added. “The drywall mud is going up this week, and the well is being dug. We’ll be ready to paint the interior after Halloween.”

  “Mark and I will help,” Deana said.

  “How about this, April?” Rocky said. She’d returned to the pile of costumes. She pulled out a calico dress. Empire waist and floor length, it looked like something a hippie chick had taken off at Woodstock just before jumping naked into a muddy pond.

  Rocky said, “I remember my mother wearing this one year with a headband and granny glasses.”

  “Lovely,” April said. So not flattering.

  “How about this?” Rocky pulled out a cheerleader outfit.

  “I’m not really the rah-rah type.”

  As they were looking for something suitable for April, Deana changed into a colonial woman’s dress. The strings of the sheer batiste bonnet dangled near her chin. Rimless reading glasses perched on the end of her nose. She looked old enough to be Benjamin Franklin’s wife, but she was fine with that.

  Mary Lou came out of the bathroom. She’d taken a cuticle scissor to the skirt hem. The fabric now reached well below her knees.

  “How’s this? Now I look like I’m wearing a burka. It’s either this or looking like an over-the-hill beer-peddling, customer-diddling fraulein.”

  “You don’t have to,” April said. “Just cover up a little and everyone will recognize you as a hip Mother Goose.”

  Mary Lou smiled at April and flopped on the bed. Deana followed her and promised to fix the skirt to a suitable length. Mary Lou agreed to downplaying the cleavage with a piece of lace. She and Deana put their heads together to plan their strategy.

  Suzi drifted over to the rack of costumes Rocky’s aunt had sent over. Something shiny and sequined was hanging behind the cheerleader outfit.

  “I want this,” Suzi said, her eyes wide with
lust. This was a surprise.

  April had figured Suzi would wear her usual denim overalls and call herself Mr. Greenjeans. This red sparkly thing was a Wonder Woman jumpsuit. Suzi perched the gold crown on her forehead. She held up the short red, white and blue costume to her and looked in the mirror. “Shazam!” she said, twirling the lasso attached to the shorts.

  She turned to the group at large. “I’m wearing this,” she said in a tone that broached no discussion. Just as well, they all seemed to be struck dumb anyhow.

  April snuck a glance at Deana. The costume was so unlike Suzi, who usually dressed in a man’s T-shirt and jeans. Her only departure was the khakis and dress shirt she wore to church each Sunday.

  April knew if she started giggling, Deana would lose it. She gulped, hoping a large breath would stymie any laughter wanting to escape. Rocky nudged April with her elbow and grinned wickedly. Deana covered her mouth.

  “Wonder Woman?” Mary Lou asked finally. “Really?”

  “Why not?” Suzi said. “I just finished readying the nursery for the Pumpkin Express. We had to build the corn maze, put up all the Halloween decorations, stock the gift store. In less than two weeks. You bet I’m Wonder Woman.”

  Rocky grabbed her wineglass to toast her. “Here, here,” she said. “Here’s to letting your inner action hero come out and play.”

  CHAPTER 2

  Back at her home, April thought about Mitch’s project as she waited for Xenia. Mitch had always been inspired by Jimmy Carter and had even spent a summer building Habitat homes in Guatemala. After his aunt Barbara gave him a piece of land, he decided to use his talents and build his own version of the Habitat for Humanity homes. He split the plot into four pieces and set up his own foundation, the Winchester Homes for Hope. He built a website, calling for needy families to apply for the first of the houses. He had a long list of restrictions. Income was the major one. Out of the forty people that had applied, the Villarreals had fit all the criteria the best, and last month, had been declared the recipients of the first Homes for Hope house.