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

“I run weekly listings in the paper.”
    Kit didn’t think anyone looked at real estate listings in the newspaper anymore, but what did she know?
    “I heard about the dreadful business in your house,” Myra said. “I’m so sorry. Obviously, I knew nothing about that.”
    “Of course not.”
    “Have you been able to live in the house at all?” Myra asked.
    “No, unfortunately I’m back at Greyabbey until I get the thumbs up to move back in.”
    “Well, I think most people would consider themselves fortunate to live in a place like Greyabbey,” Myra said wistfully. “I’d pitch a tent in the yard and feel like a million bucks there.”
    Kit felt the heat prick her neck. If people spent more time with Heloise Winthrop Wilder, they’d understand.
    “It’s Peregrine I feel sorry for,” Myra said with a deep sigh. “Poor woman can’t catch a break. Mind you, if I were her, I would’ve just gone ahead with the listing two years ago and prayed to the real estate gods for an intervention. Oh, I know I shouldn’t speak ill of the dead but what a nightmare neighbor he was. His white trash version of home ownership brought down the property value of every house on the street. Anyhoo, that’s all ancient history now that you’re there. Who wouldn’t want to live next door to Ellie Gold?”
    Kit stared at the realtor, stuck on the first part of her rant. “Peregrine wanted to sell two years ago?”
    “Well, yes. She’s been wanting to list her house for ages so she can move to Sedona.”
    “But I thought that was a recent development.”
    “Heck no,” Myra said, with a dismissive wave of her hand. “We’d finally decided to go ahead about eighteen months ago because she was desperate to leave…her sister’s been ill, you know. Then Ernie went and parked that motor home in the driveway.” Myra shuddered at the memory. “I don’t know how he could afford such a thing. Someone must’ve given it to him. Anyhoo, she was so thrilled when I told her that you bought it, thinking you’d spruce it up in a jiffy and she’d finally be able to sell.” Myra sighed. “But then you went and found Ernie’s body.”
    “Skeleton, technically.”
    Myra shrugged. “Doesn’t matter to a prospective buyer. The sooner they close this investigation, the better for everyone.” She leaned closer to Kit. “Speaking of which, any developments on that front?”
    “I’m afraid not,” Kit said, except for the one that Myra had just provided. Why would Peregrine lie to the police unless she had something to hide.
    “Tell your cousin that all of us realtors appreciate him keeping it out of the papers. No need to cause unnecessary panic in Westdale. We’ve got to keep up appearances, after all.”
    Kit didn’t doubt it. “See you around, Myra.”
    She continued to the end of the hall where Crispin’s office was located. Although the door was open, she tapped on it anyway.
    “Hey there,” Crispin said, gesturing for her to come in. “I thought you got lost in the stairwell.”
    “These are nice digs,” Kit said, admiring the sleek interior. The room looked more like the office of Forbes than the Westdale Gazette.
    “Thanks. Feels weird that you haven’t been here before.”
    “You weren’t William Randolph Hearst the last time I was here.”
    Crispin grinned sheepishly. “I did like your place in L.A. I suppose you didn’t keep it.”
    Kit shook her head. “I sold it.”
    “And used the proceeds to buy a murder mystery mansion.”
    “Hardly a mansion, but yes.”
    “Auntie Heloise still hasn’t budged on your trust fund, huh?”
    “Nope. Don’t think she ever will, either. That’s okay, though.” Kit spun around in the swivel chair, feeling like a ten-year-old. “I’m getting my degree and building my own life.”
    Crispin arched an eyebrow. “Psychology, Kit? Really?”
    “Did you know Josh Hardgrave is the teaching assistant for my psychology professor?”
    He chuckled. “I feel sorry for