Home renovation, like romance, can cause its share of headaches. And in Louisiana’s Bayou country, the path of love can be strewn with murder . . .
Between maintaining a home renovation business and patching up their personal lives, twin sister divorcees Sunny Taylor and Eve Vaughn are too busy to meddle in their aging mom’s romantic affairs. That is, until the strong-willed senior makes plans to marry her retirement community’s newest resident. Her cadre of buddies at Sugar Ledge Manor are worried that Mom’s beau is only after her money. But when the groom-to-be’s nephew, Edward, is found dead in the house he’d hired the sisters to remodel, the situation gets even stickier.
Everyone knows Edward and the twins disagreed about the upcoming marriage. The crime hasn’t just thrown a wrench in their professional reputations—now the killer seems to be taking aim at Mom. That discovery, along with a second sudden death, sends Sunny and Eve sifting through motives thicker than a Louisiana gumbo…and trying to nail a murderer before all dreams of happiness come crashing down along with their family . . .
Visit us at www.kensingtonbooks.com
Books by June Shaw
Twin Sisters Mysteries
A Fatal Romance
Dead on the Bayou
A Manor of Murder
Published by Kensington Publishing Corporation
A Manor of Murder
A Twin Sisters Mystery
June Shaw
LYRICAL PRESS
Kensington Publishing Corp.
www.kensingtonbooks.com
Copyright
Lyrical Press books are published by
Kensington Publishing Corp. 119 West 40th Street New York, NY 10018
Copyright © 2018 by June Shaw
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
All Kensington titles, imprints, and distributed lines are available at special quantity discounts for bulk purchases for sales promotion, premiums, fund- raising, and educational or institutional use.
To the extent that the image or images on the cover of this book depict a person or persons, such person or persons are merely models, and are not intended to portray any character or characters featured in the book.
Special book excerpts or customized printings can also be created to fit specific needs. For details, write or phone the office of the Kensington Special Sales Manager:
Kensington Publishing Corp.
119 West 40th Street
New York, NY 10018
Attn. Special Sales Department. Phone: 1-800-221-2647.
Kensington and the K logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.
LYRICAL PRESS Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.
Lyrical Press and the L logo are trademarks of Kensington Publishing Corp.
First Electronic Edition: March 2018
eISBN-13: 978-1-5161-0094-1
eISBN-10: 1-5161-0094-8
First Print Edition: Amarch 2018
ISBN-13: 978-1-5161-0097-2
ISBN-10: 1-5161-0097-2
Printed in the United States of America
For Bob and all of my family—You are my reason for being.
Acknowledgments
My family and friends, I don’t know what I would do without you. Thank you for all of your encouragement and love.
For years I saw through SOLA, my RWA writers group in New Orleans, that becoming an author of books people wanted to read was possible and increasingly probable. What a tremendous group of friends. Vicki McHenry, you are the best!
I learned so much about writing mysteries from countless people in Mystery Writers of America, Sisters in Crime, and the Guppies. It’s amazing how much other writers want to share with you and want you to succeed. Thank you.
Thank you, God, for all of the blessings in my life, especially the people.
Thanks to all the folks from South Louisiana. Y’all rock like no others, bless your hearts.
Working with Lyrical Press has been truly amazing. Marci Clark does an excellent job editing my work. Managing Director Renee Rocco is wonderful and has people continue to work on books until they shine, so I guarantee you any errors that might still occur are all mine.
To you, my readers, my words on the page would sit alone without you. I can’t thank you enough for allowing me to share my imagination with you. I really love to have you contact me and write reviews. Reviews truly help authors survive.
Chapter 1
Dread filled me as I raced into Sugar Ridge Manor ahead of my twin. I found our mother seated on a sofa in a grouping of her heavily perfumed cronies.
“Mom, you aren’t really thinking of getting married?” I asked.
“Well, hello to you, too.” She gave her head such a hard shake her hair resembled a thick cotton ball whipped by a storm. “No, Sunny, I am not thinking of getting married.”
A whish of relief left my mouth.
“I’m not thinking. I’m doing.”
My sister, Eve, ran up beside me. “But you hardly know him.”
Mom’s normally soft chin tightened. “Maybe you two don’t know him well, but I do.”
“Mom!” I threw my hands up and leaned toward her, smelling her bath powder. “We just want to protect you. You introduced us to him, but it wasn’t that long ago. If everything is on the up-and-up between you two, why was our customer the one to tell us about this important plan of yours instead of you?”
Stillness sat around us like newly hardened concrete. Her normally chatty buddies grew solemn. Only their eyes moved, shifting from us to our mother.
Mom stared at the tan, vinyl floor. She lifted her head and faced the members of her Chat and Nap group on sofas and loveseats in their three-sided arrangement. “Ladies, I believe it’s time for lunch.”
It was nowhere near the hour for the early lunch the cafeteria served, yet none of her friends questioned her. None looked at us. Those who could, pushed themselves up and strolled off behind her while others worked their way to their feet and used their walkers and canes, following her like gray-headed little duckies.
Here I was, a tall, divorced, middle-aged woman who felt instantly transformed into a small child whose parent didn’t want her anymore while I watched my mother turn away and go. It was the first time ever that I’d been around her and hadn’t received a kiss or even a brief hug.
She went scooting off as though she had been overwhelmed by the smell of a stinkbug or, even rarer down here in south Louisiana, a skunk. I looked at my identical twin whose wavy red hair fell over one of her clear blue eyes that stared at me. Were we the stinkbugs or worse?
“We need to stop her,” Eve said.
“Of course.”
Both of us loved our mother more than anyone could love any other person. Mom was adorable. She was medium-sized, but soft and cushiony with her age touching eighty. She took medication for her heart and had one hand with fingers knotted by rheumatoid arthritis, which she never complained about. And a problem with constipation. She had always been sweet and loving to us and Dad while he was alive. But