Beware the Orchids (A Shady Acres Mystery Book 1) by Cynthia Hickey Page A

we waiting for? Let’s go.”
    I locked the greenhouse and led them to Maybelle’s former home. The door was locked. I stepped back, looking for an open window.
    “Let me.” Grandma shouldered me out of the way and pulled a lock picking kit from her purse. “I came prepared.”
    I did not want to know how she came about this particular skill. Seconds later, we were in the messiest home I’d ever stepped foot into. Clothes and dirty dishes covered every available surface. Books and magazines were strewn on the floor. “Someone has already ransacked the place.”
    “I think this is how she lived,” Cheryl said. “I pity the girls in housekeeping.”
    “Start digging. There has to be something buried in here.” Grandma headed for the kitchen.
    “I’ll take the master bedroom,” I said, hoping I didn’t uncover something dead.
    The bedroom was worse than the front room. I shoved a pile of clothing aside with my foot and moved to the dresser. A wooden box, the type men kept their doo dads in, set on top. Using my fingernail, I lifted the lid. Inside were watches and cufflinks. Had she stolen the entire thing or collected the men’s items over a period of time? Question two…why hadn’t the police taken the box? I shrugged. Maybe no one had reported anything missing at Shady Acres. She could have brought the box with her.
    I opened the top drawer, caught sight of plain white underwear, and slammed the drawer closed. On second thought, I opened it again. Women who wanted to hide something often stuck it in their underwear drawer.
    Bingo! I pulled out a Manilla envelope. Inside were several photographs. At first glance, they seemed to be of Shady Acre residents. I set the envelope aside and moved to the next drawer. Nothing interesting in the next two so I checked under the mattress then went to the closet.
    Heavens to Betsy, how did anyone put another item of clothing in the jammed space? I glanced at the top shelf. Several boxes, tossed in haphazardly, seemed ready to fall. The first box I pulled down contained a Glock nine millimeter with a cute pink handle. Why hadn’t the police taken it? I closed the box and left the gun alone. Maybe since it didn’t pertain to Maybelle’s death, they left it with her personal items. The other boxes contained years and years of receipts. No help there.
    Next, I glanced under the bed. Way too crammed to find anything, then headed to the master bathroom. I stared at the cluttered countertop, then opened the medicine cabinet. Assorted prescriptions for pain and anxiety filled the inside. Poor Maybelle seemed to suffer from more than kleptomania. Wait. Those weren’t her name on the bottles. I read Birdie’s name, Harry Weasley’s on one of the anxiety meds, even Bob Satchett’s name was there.
    “Find anything?” Cheryl walked up behind me.
    “She might very well have been a drug addict, stealing prescriptions from the other residents to feed her habit.” I closed the cabinet. “Does no one lock their doors around here?”
    “Maybe she got a hold of a master key.”
    “Good point. I’ll ask Alice if one was ever noticed missing.” I grabbed the envelope from the bed and headed to the front room. “Grandma? Find anything?”
    She waved a sheet of paper. “She kept a schedule of the residents.”
    “That would make sense, since she was stealing from them.” I dumped the contents of the envelope on the table after knocking several books to the floor. “She was also photographing everyone.”
    “Our little Maybelle was not only a kook, but a thief.”
    “Maybe the absent-mindedness was a ploy so people wouldn’t take too long of a look at her. It would be the perfect disguise.”
    Grandma tapped a photo of Alice with her nail. “These don’t seem to be about the residents going about their lives. They seem to be more like spying. Alice is unlocking the door to a cottage that isn’t hers. Weasley is watching Bob and Myrna Smith. Here’s one of Heath