Done to Death

Table of Contents

Cover

Recent Titles by Charles Atkins

Title Page

Copyright

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

THE CADAVER'S BALL

GO TO HELL

THE PORTRAIT

THE PRODIGY

RISK FACTOR

ASHES, ASHES *

MOTHER'S MILK *

The Lilian and Ada Mystery Series

VULTURES AT TWILIGHT *

BEST PLACE TO DIE *

DONE TO DEATH *

*
available from Severn House

This eBook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which is was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicably copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author's and publisher's rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.

First published in Great Britain and the USA 2014 by

SEVERN HOUSE PUBLISHERS LTD of

19 Cedar Road, Sutton, Surrey, England, SM2 5DA.

eBook edition first published in 2014 by Severn House Digital
an imprint of Severn House Publishers Limited

Copyright © 2014 by Charles Atkins.

The right of Charles Atkins to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs & Patents Act 1988.

British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data

Atkins, Charles author.

Done to death. – (The Lilian and Ada mystery series)

1. Campbell, Lil (Fictitious character)–Fiction.

2. Strauss, Ada (Fictitious character)–Fiction. 3. Older

lesbians–Fiction. 4. Television programs–Fiction.

5. Detective and mystery stories.

I. Title II. Series

813.6-dc23

ISBN-13: 978-0-7278-8374-2 (cased)

ISBN-13: 978-1-78010-523-9 (ePub)

Except where actual historical events and characters are being described for the storyline of this novel, all situations in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to living persons is purely coincidental.

This ebook produced by

Palimpsest Book Production Limited,

Falkirk, Stirlingshire, Scotland.

T
he worms crawl in and the worms crawl out
, Ada Strauss mused as she stared at the flat screen, her fingers poised over the keys. She scanned the Medicare application. She'd filled them out for others in the retirement community of Pilgrim's Progress, now it was her turn.
Happy Birthday
…
another day older and closer to death.
Anxiety bubbled in the pit of her stomach as she clicked through the boxes: date of birth, marital status − widow … unless she and Lil formalized things, which was now legal in Connecticut. Aaron, her out-and-proud nineteen-year-old grandson, was on board for that. ‘It would be awesome,' he'd said, rapidly followed by, ‘It would kill Dad.'

Thoughts of Aaron were like a balm on her turmoil. And yes, she wouldn't miss his father Jack, her right-wing Nazi of a son-in-law, if he mysteriously vanished. Wishing someone dead seemed wrong.
Now if he dropped dead on his own − possibly choking on his small-minded bigotry − that would be fine
, she mused …
but you should never wish it on someone.

She read the next question, which sent her tabbing to a separate screen. There she had the options for the various Medicare insurance plans.
Just fill this out
, she told herself.
Get it done.

Caught in the complexity of tables designed to clarify the pros and cons of different health-care plans, but which in fact confused the issue, she didn't hear Lil. A teaspoon clinked against a mug and, like a Buddhist monk being called to prayer, she turned.

‘How's it going?' Lil asked, placing Ada's tea on the coaster − an antique Minton tile, part of a Victorian fireplace surround they'd found suet-stained and caked with old grout at the local flea market.

‘Fine,' Ada said, feeling Lil's strong fingers on her shoulders as they gently pressed and massaged. ‘That feels good. And by fine, I mean someone is dancing on my grave.'

‘You're not old,' Lil said.

‘Yeah, filling out a Medicare application pretty much says … you're old. I'm sixty-five.'

‘And I'm sixty-three,' Lil said. ‘We're not old … we're just us. Look at your mom, she's … ninety-five. The woman runs circles around people half her age.'

‘Maybe not run, but she's still sharp.' Ada shook her head. ‘I know it's just a number, you're as young as you feel …' Ada felt the warmth of the tea through the mug. She took a sip … good and strong, with two sugars and milk. ‘I'm in a funk,' she admitted. ‘It'll pass.'

‘Well,' Lil said, and she leaned down and nuzzled a particularly sensitive spot behind Ada's right ear. ‘Maybe I can help with that.'

Ada groaned, and putting down her tea leaned back into Lil. ‘Maybe you can. I've always thought you'd have made an excellent therapist.' She swiveled her chair and came face to face with Lil. She stared into chestnut eyes, her hand on the side of Lil's cheek. Her fingertips brushing tendrils of wheat-blond mixed with gray. ‘You are so beautiful,' she said.

‘Back at you,' and Lil's lips found hers.

With Ada's tea and Medicare application forgotten, they headed to their bedroom for a bit of mid-morning therapy.

After, with cheeks flushed and a pleasant glow coursing through her veins, Ada pushed back in bed. She gazed out the sliders to the distant views of protected wetlands, with last year's cattails providing contrast to tender green shoots.

‘So what's really wrong?' Lil asked, rolling on her side, her long hair loose around bare shoulders.

‘It's a feeling,' Ada said, staring out at budding trees and clumps of marsh grass.

‘The getting old thing?'

‘I suppose, but more … with Aaron off to college, and you with your column. It sounds bad, but as I looked at that Medicare application, it's like this is it. I'm really old. Time to … what? Go on Elderhostel trips? We already play bridge and mah-jong. I don't like golf. I know I'm being ridiculous.' She met Lil's gaze. ‘Stop smiling.'

‘I get it,' Lil said. ‘Why do you think I took that stupid job at the antique center a few years back?'

‘To have a front row seat to the antique dealer murders,' said Ada. ‘Admit it.'

‘Well … that too.' Lil chuckled. ‘But it was also about needing something to do. Obviously that wasn't it, but it was this feeling that I had to do something. We're so lucky, Ada, I try not to lose sight of that. We have each other, our health, and we're not hurting for money.'

‘I know … and that's why I feel ridiculous. I should be content. I am.'

‘And you're not,' Lil said, finishing her thought.

‘Right.'

‘You want more,' Lil said. ‘I get it. There's nothing wrong with that. Any idea what?'

‘No.' She wiggled her toes. ‘Here's the thing … it's like all of my life I've been the one behind the scenes. With Harry' – referring to her deceased husband – ‘I ran Strauss's, but he was the showman. I handled the books, payroll, dealt with the buyers, the designers, the properties, called the plumbers, oversaw store renovations, but it was his name that went out front. Which isn't to say I did it all, we were partners.' She looked at Lil, and felt for her hand beneath the sheets. ‘I wish I knew what my problem was. I think having Aaron around helped … but he's at college now, and while looking after Mom is important … Rose is having a renaissance here and doesn't want me butting in. I really thought I was going to lose her after her second heart attack, but she's stronger than ever.'

‘Yes, and a lot of that has to do with you and the decisions you made. She'd still be isolated in that apartment on the Lower East Side if you hadn't forced her hand. And yes,' Lil said, before Ada could interject. ‘Clearly having the assisted care facility we moved her into burn down couldn't have been predicted, but it's turned out well in the end. She's happier than I've ever seen her. And so now you want something of your own. I get it. I've got my column, and am over the moon with this syndication thing. I love going out and doing the interviews, researching the antiques and the history behind them. Love it.'

‘So what's this week's about?' Ada said, wanting to change the topic.

‘Reality shows and the local antique dealers who've been featured on them. And …' Lil bit her bottom lip.

‘What?'

‘I'm on to a potentially juicy exclusive.'

‘Really?' Ada squeezed Lil's hand. ‘Care to share?'

‘Of course. This morning I got an email from someone connected to Lenore Parks,' Lil said.

‘As in
Lenore Says
? And “I can do everything better than you” Lenore?'

‘Yes,
Lenore Says
,
Weeknights with Lenore
,
Living with Lenore
, bedding by Lenore and … you know she has a country home in Shiloh. So this producer person, Barry somebody,' Lil got out of bed and grabbed her blue fleece robe, ‘wants to talk with me about the local antiques scene. Apparently he read my columns and thought I'd be a good resource on Grenville; they're planning on shooting something here, or at least thinking about it.'

‘Like what?'

‘Don't know.' She glanced at the clock. ‘I was going to call this afternoon. Maybe get lucky and get a thirty-second interview with her highness, Lenore … although that's doubtful.'

‘If you don't ask …'

‘True,' Lil said, toeing into her slippers. ‘I'll do it right now, we'll put him on speaker phone.'

‘Tease.'

‘You wanted something to do,' Lil said, grabbing an elastic off her side table and sweeping her hair back into a ponytail.

‘Fine, Medicare can wait.' Ada threw on slacks and a silk tee and trailed Lil to her office.

It was hard shaking her Medicare funk. She thought about her mom, Rose Rimmelman, who'd pretty much taken over Ada's condo next door. Rose, who'd come kicking and screaming from lower Manhattan to an assisted living facility in Connecticut, which subsequently suffered a devastating fire, had become the poster child for the retirement community of Pilgrim's Progress. They'd had breakfast together − as they did every morning − and then Rose was off with a busload of her new friends for a day at the Indian casinos. On Saturday, she'd board another bus for a Broadway matinee. Three days a week she went for water aerobics at the health center, and recently she'd been getting chummy with a widowed firefighter named Stan.