A Dead End (A Saints & Strangers Cozy Mystery Book 1) by Keeley Bates Page A

exciting.”
    “I’ll see if I can find out,” Kit promised. Anything to get this investigation over with so she could move into her new house. She missed having her own space. Despite Greyabbey’s enormous size, Kit never felt like she had privacy. If it wasn’t a family member or a member of staff, it was an animal nipping at her heels. Last night she got up to go to the bathroom and was followed back to her room by a duck. After the viper incident, she didn’t bat an eyelid; she simply closed the door behind her and crawled back into bed.
    “Have you heard of Fanatics?” Kit asked, reading Romeo’s reply text. He seemed to be as glued to his phone as she was to hers.
    “I think some of the guys from class hang out there on game nights,” Francie commented.
    “Guys from class? We should definitely go then,” Charlotte said.
    “You girls aren’t twenty-one, though,” Kit said.
    “Don’t need to be,” Francie pointed out. “We can go in and eat and watch the game. We just can’t order alcohol.”
    “Watch what game, exactly?” Kit asked. “Do you even know what games are on?”
    Francie and Charlotte exchanged thoughtful looks. “Baseball?” Charlotte ventured slowly.
    Francie nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, definitely baseball.”
    “Do you know anything about baseball?” Kit inquired, guessing the answer was not even remotely.
    “Of course,” Charlotte replied. “My father’s new wife was a cheerleader for the Eagles.”
    Kit bit back a laugh. “Uh huh. Okay then. You can come.”
    Charlotte and Francie high-rived each other.
    “I’ll invite my cousin. He’s single. We’ll make a night of it.”
    Francie’s eyebrows shot up. “Crispin?”
    “Yes,” Kit answered, her Cupid radar on high alert. “Crispin. I’m supposed to be spending time with family now that I’m home so two birds, one night out.” Personally, she thought Crispin was a little too old for an eighteen-year-old, but her mother had been eighteen when she’d married her father. Her father had been twenty-six at the time. It did happen and, on occasion, it even lasted until death do they part. Whether his untimely death had saved them from a divorce down the road, no one could say for sure.
     
    Kit walked through the lobby of the office building that the newspaper shared with two lawyers and an accountant. The Westdale Gazette was a small operation, but Crispin was a zealous and dedicated owner and editor. Kit had no doubt that this would have been her cousin’s vocation, with or without a trust fund. Given the state of the newspaper business these days, it was probably best that Crispin had access to a trust fund.
    “Kit Wilder,” the receptionist said brightly.
    “Hi, I’m here to see Crispin.” Kit didn’t recognize the young woman so assumed she was a fan of the show. That was pretty much how Kit categorized people. If they were under a certain age and she didn’t know them, then they probably recognized her from television.
    “I’ll let him know.” The receptionist picked up the phone and buzzed Crispin’s office. “Your cousin is here.” She hung up the phone and smiled at Kit. “One floor up, down the end of the hall on the right.”
    “Thanks.”
    “I’m a big fan,” the receptionist gushed as Kit strode toward the stairs.
    “Thank you,” Kit called over her shoulder.
    Upstairs in the hallway, she passed Myra Beacon, the realtor responsible for the sale of Ernie’s house. Kit recognized her from the picture on her website. Although Beatrice and the entertainment lawyer had handled the transaction, Myra and Kit had plenty of back and forth phone calls leading up to the sale, including Kit’s plea for discretion. She didn’t want the world to know where she lived now.
    “Kit, so nice to see you in person,” Myra enthused, pumping her hand.
    Kit glanced around the hall, wondering why the realtor was here. “Were you here to see Crispin?”
    “Jeannie in advertising,” Myra clarified.