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

too,” Francie added. “It’s all part of her dyspraxia. Remember? I mentioned it the other day at the fountain.”
    “But what if you lose the laminated card?” Kit asked. “Will you forget to brush your teeth?”
    “Hopefully not. I’ve gotten pretty good with the basics.” Charlotte held up her phone. “Anyway, the card is a backup. I also have reminder alarms on my phone.”
    “The card is in case she drops her phone into a toilet or a fountain,” Francie added.
    “Both of which have happened,” Charlotte added. “Or I just lose the phone completely.”
    “How do you cope?” Kit asked. As an actress, she’d relied so heavily on her memory and physical skills that she couldn’t imagine functioning with Charlotte’s condition.
    “Daniel Radcliffe has dyspraxia,” Charlotte said, as though she knew what Kit was thinking. “He managed okay as Harry Potter.”
    “He sure did,” Kit agreed.
    They finally got their turn at the counter and placed their order. Sam wasn’t working this shift so at least Kit didn’t need to field any questions about whether Orson Welles was, indeed, the greatest filmmaker of all time. As if she’d worked with him personally.
    There were no seats available by the time they retrieved their drinks so they hovered between a few tables, sipping their drinks.
    “I’m surprised no one notices you,” Charlotte whispered. “You’re a pretty big name in Westdale.”
    Kit shrugged. “I don’t think Westdale viewers featured into the demographics for Fool’s Gold .”
    Francie lit up. “That’s not what she means.” She cleared her throat and increased her volume. “Oh my goodness, I had no idea you were the daughter of Heloise Winthrop Wilder. I do apologize for my ignorance. Your mother is an inspiration to us all.”
    A middle-aged man glanced up from his newspaper and Kit noticed that he was reading the Westdale Gazette. She didn’t think anyone read the actual paper anymore.
    “Would you ladies like this table?” he offered. “I’m finished with it.”
    Francie placed a grateful hand on her chest. “That is so sweet. Thank you.” She winked at Kit as he gathered his belongings and vacated the premises.
    They sat down at the available table and Kit grumbled under her breath.
    “What’s the matter?” Charlotte asked.
    “This is what my life is going to be, isn’t it?” Kit moaned. “No matter what I do for myself, as long as I’m in Westdale, the only thing that matters is who my mother is.”
    Charlotte shook her blond ponytail. “No, I’m pretty sure who your father is matters, too.”
    Kit groaned again and covered her face with her hands. “Between the dead guy in my house and the wide sphere of influence held by my mother, I’m regretting the decision to move back here.”
    Francie and Charlotte exchanged looks. “Well, we’re not sorry,” Francie said. “We’re happy to have you here and not because of your mother or father.”
    “That’s only because your families are on par with the Winthrops and Wilders,” Kit pointed out. “You don’t need Heloise’s favor.”
    “Yes, but we sure don’t want to be out of her favor either,” Francie said.
    Kit understood the sentiment all too well.
    “So tell us about the murder,” Charlotte urged. “Who was it?”
    Kit told them about Ernie and the relevant neighborhood gossip.
    “Are you scared to sleep there?” Charlotte asked. “I mean, what if the murderer comes back?”
    “Why would the murderer come back?” Kit asked. “The victim is clearly dead.”
    Charlotte lowered her voice. “What about the victim’s ghost?”
    Francie gave her friend’s leg a gentle smack. “Charlotte Tilton, don’t talk like that. You’ll scare Kit straight back into Greyabbey.”
    “No she won’t,” Kit said. “Believe me, my mother is far scarier than any dead man’s ghost could ever be. Anyway, I’m already back at Greyabbey until the police finish checking the house over for evidence. I