Spotlight & Giveaway: Old Habits Die Hard by Melissa Westemeier

Today it is my pleasure to Welcome author Melissa Westemeier to HJ!

Hi Melissa and welcome to HJ! We’re so excited to chat with you about your new release, Old Habits Die Hard!

To start off, can you please tell us a little bit about this book?:

When a body is discovered in the second-floor hallway at The Abbey: Senior Living, Sister Bernadette Ohlson wants to help her former student, Detective AJ Lewis, solve the mystery of why Toni Travi was living in disguise and who wanted her dead.
 

Please share your favorite lines or quote(s) from this book:

Bernie reached over and grabbed AJ’s hand with her wrinkled, spotted one and squeezed. “I prayed for deliverance. God sent you.”

“Are you Catholic, Taylor?”

“Episcopalian.”

“We call that ‘Catholic Lite’ around here,” Bernie said.

What inspired this book?

Old Habits Die Hard began in the imagination of my writing partner Mariana Damon. The plot, 6 main characters, setting at The Abbey, and the set-up were her ideas, but dementia blocked her ideas from getting to the page. Initially I planned to shape her concept into a short story and get it published for her. It’s a long story with some crazy plot twists. I never dreamed three years ago that I’d be launching a series based on Mariana’s original idea. It amazes me still that I got her project so far and that she gets to hold a copy of this book in her hands and know her ideas made it into print!

One aspect that changed from Mariana’s original vision is how Detective AJ Lewis is loosely modeled after my oldest son, tall, handsome with thick brown hair and almond-shaped eyes, heavy into video gaming, and possessing very typical millennial sensibilities. Much of what AJ says, does, and thinks are copied from Travis, who is not a detective in real life, although at one point he wanted to be one. I wanted to create a modern detective to play off Bernie, who is much older and has a more traditional view of the world.

How did you ‘get to know’ your main characters? Did they ever surprise you?

Sister Bernadette AKA Bernie is used to running the show and getting her own way, it’s why she meddles in the murder investigation. At first, she was pushy and bossy, but I figured out that she’s motivated out of a sense of responsibility for other people. She still manipulates people to get her own way, but not in a mean way, even though it can come across that way. Bernie identifies as a teacher first, so she treats her neighbors like she treated her students, leading them off the bus, accounting for their whereabouts, constantly reading their moods and taking inventory of their personalities just like teachers do. My background as a teacher gave me insight into how Bernie views her world, which is good because I’ve never been a nun and that part of her was more out of reach for me.

I’ve known many older women who inspired characteristics in some of her neighbors, including Jan, the twins, and Rin.

What was your favorite scene to write?

There were several, but whenever the residents are at dinner together their conversations were full of spunk and sass. These characters were fun to develop individually, but bringing them together to interact in scenes made them even more entertaining to work with!

“Look,” Jan said, “isn’t that the cop from last night?”

Bernie whipped around in her seat. Sure enough, AJ was at the reception desk talking to Meadow.

“Wonder why he’s back?” Rin stabbed her fork into the apple strudel. She always started with the dessert, because she claimed at her age one never knew how far along they’d get in a meal before time was up. “Betcha that jewelry Toni always wore was stolen. I told you she was wearing real gemstones.”

“Probably procedural.” Leo paused in cutting up his slice of roast pork. Even when he was relaxed, his face creased in laugh lines giving him a perpetually friendly expression. “On those crime shows the police always let people know what they found out.”

“Or they return to the scene of the crime to haul someone down to the station for questioning.” Rin raised her thin eyebrows. “Who will they cuff?” She leaned forward. “My money’s on you, Leo.”

Laughter exploded out of Leo and he tilted back his head, exposing a mouth full of shiny fillings. “You almost had me, Rin. Everyone knows you’re the meanest one at this table. You killed Toni out of a jealous rage.”

“Jealous of what?” Rin scoffed.

“Her jewelry,” Jan said. “Or maybe of all the attention she got. We know what an attention whore you are.” At seventy-five, Jan favored more fashionable clothing than Bernie even though she eschewed using cosmetics. She liked a sparkly top, dangly earrings, and bracelets. She still wore her wedding ring, too. Her sole nod to vanity was keeping her hair dyed a shade of copper that Bernie knew didn’t exist in nature.

“You bickered with her constantly, Rin,” Leo added. “Our whole table can attest to that. She’d say the weather was fine, and you’d complain it was too humid or the sun was too bright and hurt your eyes. She’d say dinner tasted good, and you’d insist it needed more salt.”

“You did pick at her,” Bernie agreed. Rin got a strange pleasure out of baiting people.

“Maybe you killed her, Bernie,” Leo said with a teasing note in his voice.

“Impossible,” Bernie said coolly. “First, I have an alibi for the entire evening. Second, everyone saw me find her body.” It went without saying she was innocent because she was a nun. She knew Leo was playing around, but even his teasing accusation raised her dander.

“You could have injected her with something while you pretended to help her,” Jan said. “I saw that on a TV show once. It’s a great way to get away with murder. Who suspects the person trying to save someone?”

What was the most difficult scene to write?

One of the opening scenes involves Detective AJ Lewis arriving to investigate the crime scene and I learned there are a LOT of police procedural details to adhere to if I wanted to depict this sort of situation accurately. I rewrote and revised several times per the recommendations of people with backgrounds in police work. Honestly, I revised this scene more thoroughly than anything else I’ve written in a long time!

“No signs of obvious foul play, but I just got started up here. Crime scene tape is up, and the photographer is standing by. Honestly, there’s not much to see up here—a body in a hallway, that’s it. The only weird thing is how they’re dressed, right? Probably easiest to cordon off the victim’s room and the area of the hall around the body until you give the all-clear.”

AJ considered his options. Investigate the body upstairs or deal with an entire building’s worth of people in the dining area. He decided he could wait to see the body, especially since Dusty hadn’t noted anything suspicious. More efficient to establish a timeline for when the death might have happened, and then he could send these people back to their beds. Or La-Z-Boy recliners. Or whatever the old folks favored these days. “Looks like we’ve got a dining area full of senior citizens down here. Can you tell the crime tech to lay down stepping plates so we can get everybody back in their apartments?” Stepping plates prevented foot traffic from contaminating the scene and preserved evidence, and in this case, they’d allow people to temporarily use the hallway so they could get settled for the night. Chief Fredrickson expected his team to follow protocol, but AJ knew he was equally reasonable about not wasting resources either.

Dusty grinned and nodded. “Will do. Your team can help them through?”

“Yes.”

“Give me a couple minutes.” Dusty disappeared from view.

Would you say this book showcases your writing style or is it a departure for you?

Even when I’m trying to be serious, I can’t help adopting a light tone in my writing. The humor, the brisk pacing, the quirky characters, the setting details, and the snappy dialogue are how I write. All of these elements show up in Old Habits Die Hard, which surprised me a little because I didn’t know how I’d handle writing a murder mystery.

What do you want people to take away from reading this book?

Satisfaction. I hope they are entertained, and I hope they enjoy keeping company with the characters populating the series. I also want readers to appreciate how friendships can develop between people despite huge differences in age and life experience. Bernie and AJ have a delightful relationship and they’re able to grow closer while practicing patience. We should all strive to have friends from every decade in life. The Abbey, AJ’s gaming buddies, the funky little neighborhood around The Abbey—there are so many elements in this series that highlight the value of community and show how we need to connect and look out for each other and work together for the greater good.

What are you currently working on? What other releases do you have planned?

Dropped Like a Bad Habit (book 2) comes out this summer, so I’m completing edits. Obviously I can’t keep all the murders in The Abbey, so Bernie and AJ are investigating mysterious deaths in the neighborhood. The bodies really piled up in this book, I think I got a little carried away! I also drafted a modern retelling of The Little Mermaid. It’s a rom-com/romantasy hybrid about a woman who becomes invisible and while she’s learning how to control her power, she meets a man who can see her no matter what.

Thanks for blogging at HJ!

Giveaway: An ebook copy of OLD HABITS DIE HARD + one additional Tule ebook of the winner’s choice

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Excerpt from Old Habits Die Hard:

Chapter One

The green school bus shuddered while it hugged the curve leading to the main entrance of The Abbey: Senior Living. Like the red brick building bearing its namesake, the vehicle’s history was visible beneath its paint, the words EUGENE SCHOOL DISTRICT NO. J4 still legible. The Abbey, a former monastery built in 1907 with a school added twenty years later, had been converted for a new purpose. Sister Bernadette Ohlson appreciated the symmetry of spending the balance of her years in the building where she spent most of her teaching career. Five years after moving into her new apartment, it still pleased her to see the original dormitories, refectory, and classrooms bearing the marks of their previous use. The redesign furnished the nave with several long wooden tables and a variety of chairs, providing a dining area where residents took two meals a day. The altar area now served as a stage for entertainment, and the original school office space was a cozy common room with couches, craft tables, bookshelves, and a big-screen TV. The entryway served as a small lobby where the building manager, Meadow Jackson, was usually found working on her latest crochet project. This place was more than her home, Sister Bernadette reflected, it was her heart.

The bus brakes released a long hiss and Meadow turned in the driver’s seat to announce in a loud voice, “Last stop, The Abbey! Your hearth and home!” She adjusted the tie-dyed bandana covering her honey-blonde curls and reached under her seat for her patchwork backpack. A youthful-looking thirty-year-old, Meadow had worked in a music store, at a farm, and briefly at a bank after she graduated from the University of Oregon. Her heart for helping others, and her desire to embrace a walkable lifestyle to avoid using fossil fuels, brought her to The Abbey. As the building manager, she handled maintenance, bookkeeping, scheduling of staff and activities, and responding to the residents’ demands.

Sister Bernadette, a tall and imposing retired nun with close-cropped silver-white hair and sharp brown eyes, jumped up to take command of the group of seniors. Pulling her black cardigan past the waist of her black polyester pants, she moved into the aisle and down the steps to The Abbey’s entrance. “All right, be careful, everyone.” Bernie looped two fingers through the chain of her gold cross necklace while she watched the residents file out of the bus. She knew each of them like she’d known her students, committing to memory their particular quirks, stories, talents, and weaknesses.

An assortment of twenty seniors, ranging from fully competent and active to slightly addled and crippled, strode, hobbled, and walked past Bernie. Tonight’s field trip had been dinner and a performance of State Fair performed by the Eugene Community Players. Meadow had gotten them free seats since it was Monday night and the final dress rehearsal before opening curtain on Wednesday. Jan Kovitz clutched her glossy playbill with one hand and the railing with the other while she struggled to disembark. A bad fall had left her with a broken hip last spring and a lingering terror of stairs. She usually froze for a minute or two when she had to step down. Barely seventy, she moved like someone much older.

“You’re okay, Jan,” Bernie told her and reached out a hand to assist her friend. “Dry as a bone tonight. The traction is great.” Bernie had been coaching Jan through her fear for months.

The residents waiting in the aisle behind Jan held their breath—and their patience—while she placed one trembling foot encased in a burgundy orthopedic shoe on the ground. Everyone behind her sighed with a mixture of relief. One person even clapped their hands, which prompted some chuckling.

“You should wait until everyone’s off next time,” Rin Sato complained. She carried a purse as large as her torso, which Bernie knew held at least a dozen rolls and twenty sugar packets from the buffet they’d visited before the show. Rin had a sleek appearance, from her well-tailored slacks cropped just above her slender ankles to her black bob razor-cut just below her jawline.

“I get motion sickness if I sit too far back. And you know I hate stairs.” Jan glared at Cliff Warneke, who was now stepping down from the bus.

The retired auto mechanic, who was obsessed with the Trail Blazers, had a hot temper and a stubborn streak. Jan coveted his main floor apartment since her accident, but Cliff refused to move. Bernie still hadn’t figured out why he’d joined them on this field trip, he’d never expressed any interest in theater before.

Cliff didn’t reply and held the heavy wooden door of The Abbey open for Bernie. Satisfied the residents had safely exited the bus, she led the group into the lobby. “Thank you, Meadow, for driving us. That was a delightful field trip. It would be perfect if we could have ham, strawberry jam, and pie tomorrow at dinner.”

The Harrington sisters, who lived together in 109, started singing the refrain to the theme song from State Fair, and a few others joined in. Cliff scowled at them before hurrying around the corner to his apartment. For a man with broad shoulders, he gave the appearance of being hunched over even when he stood straight.

“Good night, guys.” Meadow pulled the main door closed behind her and locked it. She’d return in the morning. Bernie watched the first-floor residents head down the hallway and heard apartment doors squeak open and bang shut. Satisfied everyone was sorted for the night down here, she started up the exposed oak stairwell. The second-floor residents followed her, their footsteps echoing loudly on wooden steps worn down from decades of nuns and students treading on them. The building’s high ceilings, wood floors, and magnificent stained-glass windows made it a beautiful place to live, full of character and history. It was also a loud place to live, and drafty, and full of nooks and crannies that lent The Abbey a certain charm.

Rounding the corner to the hallway, she reached for the light switch while anticipating the glass of bourbon and a few chapters of reading awaiting her once everyone had reached their apartments. After a faint click, the wall sconces glowed yellow and revealed a person on the floor, sprawled in a heap between 210 and 212. Bernie gasped and ran toward them. One of the residents who had decided to stay behind and skip Rodgers and Hammerstein’s romp at the Iowa State Fair must have fainted. She didn’t have much medical background, but she was strong enough to help anybody get their balance.

Bernie reached the resident, whom she now recognized as Toni Travi, a recent addition to The Abbey community. Toni was a statuesque woman who dressed in loose, flowing muumuus and wore gaudy jewelry and heavy makeup. Not Bernie’s taste, but then she was a bride of Christ, so inclined to more modesty. Toni’s feet poked out of her skirt, and Bernie wondered whether she’d tripped on the fabric as she spoke the woman’s name. When she didn’t move, Bernie reached for Toni’s wrist and pushed back several heavy bracelets in order to feel for her pulse. Toni’s skin felt cool to the touch, and her arm felt heavy. Bernie repositioned her fingers and still felt no thrum of life. A heart attack? Stroke? Panic flooded her mind, and she turned Toni’s head to try to find a pulse in the woman’s neck when Toni’s blonde wig slid back and revealed a sight that caused Bernie to falter.

Toni’s scalp was covered with a thick brush of salt-and-pepper hair shorn in a crewcut, by a number 8 clipper blade guard, Bernie guessed. Not at all the thinning, wispy locks she’d expected to find beneath the woman’s wig. The other second-floor residents caught up around Bernie and Toni and murmured their shock and concern.

Bernie wanted to pull the wig back into place to preserve the woman’s dignity, but she needed to make sure Toni could gain consciousness. “Call 911,” she ordered. “Anyone. Hurry.” She untied the scarf knotted around Toni’s neck and revealed an Adam’s apple and a curly thatch of chest hair poking over the top of the collar of Toni’s dress.

Bernie leaned back on her heels, stunned at two discoveries: Toni was definitely not a woman, and Toni was very dead.

Detective Andrew John Lewis, known as AJ to everyone since he’d been a kid, surveyed the desolate landscape in front of his horse. Sagebrush and low bushes edged the narrow dirt trail, and he made a mental note of his health and stamina. They were both good, but in his hurry to escape the ambush, he’d forgotten to loot the dead men and he was not well-armed to take on what lay ahead. He’d have to press on without supplies because going back would waste precious time. AJ whistled and heard a faint crunching coming from behind his left shoulder. Another rider on horseback. AJ knew a quarter mile sat between him and camp. Could he make it in time? His heart beat faster while the crunching grew louder. He urged his horse to speed up and readied his revolver. A shadow appeared on the path and he braced himself. The sharp burst of his phone’s electronic ringtone made AJ jump, bringing him out of the world of his video game and into reality. He straightened his thin shoulders and expertly maneuvered the PlayStation controller in his hand to pause his progress in Red Dead Redemption II.

Yanking the headset from his ears, AJ fumbled for his phone. “AJ here.”

While the patrol officer briefed him, AJ reached across the coffee table to pull across a piece of junk mail. He scribbled a few notes on the envelope and asked the usual series of questions. “What time?” “Address?” His eyebrows rose when he recognized the address of the school he’d attended through eighth grade. Then the officer mentioned Sister Bernadette Ohlson had called for an ambulance and AJ chuckled softly before asking, “Victim?” The ballpoint pen in his hand ran out of ink, and he tossed it across the room. It landed behind a stack of moving boxes, and AJ sighed heavily after assuring the officer he was on his way.

The boxes were the books he hadn’t unpacked since moving into his new apartment. Books he’d once loved because of Sister Bernadette, his favorite teacher in middle school, who had encouraged him to enter a world of fantasy. How old is she now? He shut down his game and changed out of his sweatpants and X-MEN T-shirt. She’d seemed old when he’d had her in middle school and that was almost fifteen years ago. Shrugging his lanky body into a dress shirt and khakis, AJ buckled the belt and slid his feet into loafers.

Weird that Sister B was still at the old school. He’d heard about the parish property getting converted to senior apartments, though. AJ figured finding a dead body at a senior living facility probably didn’t require a full investigation. Old people die all the time, right? The person probably had a heart attack or stroke. With any luck, he’d have this file closed before the weekend. He had plans to reunite with his college pals in Portland. He’d been laying low since breaking up with Melinda, he looked forward to a fun weekend.

AJ was almost out the door when he remembered the envelope he’d left on his coffee table. While folding it to put into his pants pocket, he glimpsed the return address: BENTON’S BLOOMS, the florist they’d gotten a quote from for the wedding that was now canceled. He refolded the envelope so he wouldn’t be reminded of his biggest regret.

AJ parked his Prius across the street from The Abbey and looked at the building, memories from his childhood flooding over him. The strobing lights from the ambulance and two police cars reflected off the classroom windows, where curtains blocked the view, protecting the residents’ privacy. He saw the playground had been torn out and replaced with gardens and lawn, while the old basketball court now provided benches and a series of raised beds for gardening. A potting shed loomed along the back fence, its door wide open, and a two-car garage stood twenty feet past that. He’d spent eight years learning, attending Mass, playing pranks with his friends, and experiencing all of the ritual coming-of-age moments in this place. A lapsed Catholic since his confirmation, he hadn’t come back here in years. His parents still lived less than a mile away in his childhood home, and, while he dropped in for a weekly meal with them, he had no reason to drive deeper into the old neighborhood. His apartment, job, and hangouts kept him on the northwest side of the city.

Home to the University of Oregon, Eugene was a large city with several specific neighborhood districts. The Abbey was located in an older neighborhood fifteen blocks west of the college, but the imprint of the university was ever-present at Eugene’s coffee shops, bookstores, bars, and music venues. The strong running culture was another sign of the college’s influence on the city. AJ sidestepped a jogger on his way to the entrance of the building.

A young woman was at the front entrance, talking to a police officer. Her tear-streaked face glistened in the overhead light and her voice cracked with emotion. “…so upset. Never expected anything like this to happen here. Not here. Everyone is so sweet. I love these people.”

Walking closer, AJ noted the piercings in her nose and eyebrows and the STRAIGHT, NOT NARROW logo on her T-shirt. A colorful tattoo sleeve added to the overall impression of a free spirit. He wondered what she had to do with The Abbey. Possibly a granddaughter of a resident?

He paused to sign his name and arrival time on the scene while giving the two a nod. Walking inside a building he knew by heart from his youth, he felt disoriented by the way it looked now. Like biting into a piece of cake and discovering it was really mashed potatoes. His brain took a moment to catch up with the situation. A cluttered desk fronted a workspace that included printed schedules, mail slots for the residents, a laptop, and a laser printer. An orange-and-brown crocheted blanket hung over the back of the wooden office chair. AJ wondered if the chair had come from the old priest’s office.

Another officer stood at the foot of the stairs at the far end of the vast lobby, and two paramedics crossed the room toward him on their way out. One paused and said, “Yeah, he’s dead. Dusty’s upstairs at the scene.”

AJ nodded. “Officers up there?”

“Yes. Two.” A blast of static came from her EMS radio, and she hurried away to answer another call.

AJ guessed the colleagues upstairs were as young as the rest of the patrol officers who’d arrived on the scene. The older members of the force weren’t required to be on call at night like people his age.

Advancing through the lobby, he noted the absence of the nave’s huge oak doors. He could see straight through into what looked like a dining area. About forty senior citizens were gathered at the tables, talking in hushed voices and watching the activity. Half wore bathrobes and slippers; the other half wore street clothes. He checked his watch: eleven. The 911 call had come in at ten thirty. Someone must’ve assembled everyone in the building in one spot for questioning. He was reminded of the Agatha Christie mysteries he’d read, where the body was found in an isolated location, like on a train or a country manor in the English countryside. But this death wasn’t suspicious, not unless the medical examiner said otherwise. AJ proceeded to the foot of the stairs and leaned against the railing while he pulled on a pair of shoe protectors.

Dusty Billingham’s head appeared over the banister at the top of the stairwell. “Look what the cat dragged in.”

“Dusty, good to see you.”

“Better when it’s not the middle of the night,” the slim man with long sideburns and high cheekbones answered.

Dusty and AJ had started around the same time with the Eugene Police Department. AJ had been his wingman at clubs, always feeling a bit out of his league around the handsome and hip young medical examiner. Still, Dusty was capable and kind, and they hadn’t been out together in ages. Not since AJ got engaged four months ago. Not since he’d become single again last month.

“No signs of obvious foul play, but I just got started up here. Crime scene tape is up, and the photographer is standing by. Honestly, there’s not much to see up here—a body in a hallway, that’s it. The only weird thing is how they’re dressed, right? Probably easiest to cordon off the victim’s room and the area of the hall around the body until you give the all-clear.”

AJ considered his options. Investigate the body upstairs or deal with an entire building’s worth of people in the dining area. He decided he could wait to see the body, especially since Dusty hadn’t noted anything suspicious. More efficient to establish a timeline for when the death might have happened, and then he could send these people back to their beds. Or La-Z-Boy recliners. Or whatever the old folks favored these days. “Looks like we’ve got a dining area full of senior citizens down here. Can you tell the crime tech to lay down stepping plates so we can get everybody back in their apartments?” Stepping plates prevented foot traffic from contaminating the scene and preserved evidence, and in this case, they’d allow people to temporarily use the hallway so they could get settled for the night. Chief Fredrickson expected his team to follow protocol, but AJ knew he was equally reasonable about not wasting resources either.

Dusty grinned and nodded. “Will do. Your team can help them through?”

“Yes.”

“Give me a couple minutes.” Dusty disappeared from view.

AJ raised his eyebrows at the officer at the bottom of the staircase. “Can you get your partner inside? We’ll need to escort the residents back to their apartments after I’ve spoken to them.”

“I’m on it.” The officer hurried toward the building’s entrance.

AJ walked into the dining area while taking a deep breath.

“Andrew John Lewis, I’m glad you’re here,” a throaty voice bellowed.

The familiar voice made AJ instinctively straighten his shoulders and pull his feet together. “Yes, ma’am.”

Sister Bernadette rose from one of the tables and crossed the room. He hadn’t seen her in years, but she looked the same, despite the silver-white hair, a few more lines on her face, and no veil on her head. She extended a hand to him, and he shook it. She was as imposing to him now as she’d been when he was her student.

“We’ll catch up after you’re done. I called all the residents together in order for you to investigate Toni Travi’s death.”

“How do you spell that?” AJ pulled a small notebook from his pocket and clicked open his pen while suppressing a small smile. The stepping plates were probably useless now. He imagined Sister Bernadette traipsing across the scene to knock on every door, the residents stepping over the dead body as they filed back down the hall to gather here. How did the saying about good intentions go?

“Toni with an I, T-R-A-V-I.” The nun turned to face the rest of the room and clapped her hands twice. The sound echoed through the space and the conversation fell silent. “Andrew John Lewis is here now. He’s in charge and will give you instructions.”

AJ nodded at Sister Bernadette and cleared his throat. The residents gazed at him, some with scowling expressions, others looking interested, and several looking concerned. A few faces appeared cheerful, like they were glad for some entertainment.

“You can call me AJ. Who found the body?”

“Bernie did,” a man wearing a striped bathrobe announced.

“Bernie who?” AJ asked.

“Bernie,” the man repeated impatiently. His grizzled face twisted in disgust at AJ’s slow uptake.

“He means me. I’m Bernie,” Sister Bernadette clarified.

AJ paused. He didn’t think the nickname suited her. It seemed undignified. But he had to admit he didn’t know much about her personal life, and presumably everyone living here knew her better than he did. “Okay. When did you find Toni?”

Sister Bernadette answered in a steady voice, the same patient tone she’d used when explaining the difference between an author’s use of direct and indirect characterization. “Ten thirty. We’d just returned from a field trip to the theater. A production of State Fair. We had dinner at the Empire Buffet beforehand. Quiet hour begins at ten, so I was very aware of the time. Everyone needed to get into their room without a fuss so the people who stayed behind wouldn’t be disturbed.”

“Any chance Toni died before the play?” His question was answered by a room full of shaking heads and several people telling him, “No.”

“Who went to the play?” AJ asked.

About twenty people raised their hands.

“Do you have a list of people attending?” He asked Sister Bernadette, who was now called Bernie. He wondered whether nuns dropped their title when they retired. Bernie. He tried out the nickname. It felt too familiar to call her that, but everyone else seemed all right with it.

“There’s always a list. Meadow should have it. She drove. Otherwise, it’s on her desk.”

AJ turned to the officer standing nearby. “Can you get the list and check people off as they leave? Escort them to their rooms. And make sure there’s always a pair of eyes on the scene, please.” Then he spoke louder to the assembled group. “Okay, I might need to take statements from you later, but for now, if you were on the trip, you can go back to your apartment. Wait for an officer to escort you, especially if you live on the second floor.”

Bernie moved toward the reception desk and was shuffling through papers when the tattooed woman from outside walked into the lobby. “Meadow!” Bernie called her over. “Do you have the list from our trip tonight?”

Meadow demonstrated efficiency as she pulled a sheet of paper out of her bag and began reading off names in a loud, clear voice. One at a time, the residents rose from their seats and left the dining hall. No one questioned this process, and AJ shrugged as the officers came forward to walk the residents to their apartments. He supposed someone would speak up if a person left without their name having been read off.

Twenty residents remained in the dining area, most of them wearing pajamas and bathrobes. AJ looked at Meadow, who stepped next to him and handed him the sheet of paper. He caught a whiff of a spicy, citrusy smell.

She extended her hand to shake his. “I’m Meadow Jackson. Building manager here at The Abbey. I live nearby. Bernie called me after she called 911.”

“Right. Nice to meet you.” AJ turned back toward the remaining residents and sat at an empty spot at a table. He folded the list of residents and put it into his pocket. “Did anyone here see Toni’s body in the hallway?”

Silence. A few people shook their heads.

“The body was found on the second floor. Is there a security camera on the premises?”

“We have four,” Bernie said. “Two outside, one in the lobby, one on the stairwell.”

“We can confirm this with the video feed, then, if needed. Who here remained on the first floor all night?” All but six people raised their hands. “Okay, you can go back to your apartments.” AJ sighed deeply and shifted in the wooden chair. It was late. He was tired, and the prospect of interviewing six people seemed exhausting, but he appreciated the speed at which thirty-four people had been cleared, so that was something he guessed. He massaged the top of his nose with two fingers.

“Phil and I were playing cards. I left his room at nine, and nobody was in the hall then,” a stocky bald man volunteered.

“Did you leave your room, Phil?” AJ cast his gaze around the room and found Phil, a thin man with wispy hair and a visible tremor who shook his head.

“You both can leave.” While the men stood and made their way to the officers standing by the stairwell, AJ surveyed the four people still sitting. Bernie, a muscular man with a clean-shaven head and dark goatee, who looked about fifteen years younger than the other residents, a tiny woman wearing a pink quilted bathrobe that billowed around her frame, and a woman who wore a puzzled expression on her round, wrinkled face.

“Did any of you hear anything or notice anyone in the hall?”

The muscular man and the tiny woman shook their heads. The puzzled woman shrugged at him.

“Oh, Fern,” Bernie sighed. “She probably forgot her hearing aids. She has no idea what you’re saying to her.”

“I’ll help her to her apartment.” Meadow stood and gestured toward Fern, who nodded at AJ while she shuffled past his table. A police officer stepped forward to assist the pair.

“When did you turn in for the night?” AJ addressed the tiny woman, who was stifling a yawn.

“I was in my room after dinner. I have to take my pills before seven, and it’s lights out after that,” the tiny woman explained.

“You can leave.” AJ raised his eyebrows at the muscular man. “What about you?”

“I watched TV after dinner. I had control over the channels for a change, which was nice, so I went upstairs at nine thirty. I didn’t see anyone.”

“Can anyone verify this?”

“Doubt it. It cleared out fast after dinner, and half the building was on the bus, right?”

“So, no one was in the hall when you went to your apartment, Bruiser?” Bernie asked.

“I don’t know who put you in charge, but no,” he snapped at her. Irritation radiated from Bruiser, and AJ figured he’d be pissed off too if someone dragged him out of bed right after he’d gone to sleep.

“Okay. You can head back to your apartments. Both of you. If I need more information, I’ll follow up in the morning.”

Bruiser slapped his hands on the table to push himself to standing and headed for the lobby. AJ followed and watched an officer join the man as he proceeded to turn down the first-floor hallway. Meadow was coming back from Fern’s apartment at the same time, her footsteps loud in the otherwise silent lobby.

“I found Toni dead in the second-floor hallway,” Bernie startled AJ. She stood inches from his elbow. “I’ll show you.”

“Sister Bernadette, you can go to bed. We can take it from here,” AJ said.

The nun’s fierce expression made him forget for a moment he was in charge of the investigation. She had been very helpful, however. He added, more deferentially, “You must be tired.”

“If you have any questions, I should be here to answer them.”

“Actually, Bernie,” Meadow interrupted gently, “I think it makes sense for me to be here in this capacity. As building manager. You should head back to your apartment.”

Bernie gave the group a brisk nod before heading up the staircase. AJ, Meadow, and a uniformed officer followed in her wake. Bernie’s rubber-soled shoes squeaked on the wooden planks then grew muted when she carefully used the stepping plates to proceed down the hall. She paused when she reached Toni’s body, surrounded by discarded medical equipment, police tape, Dusty’s team, a crime scene tech and two officers. Sister Bernadette made the sign of the cross. The group bowed their heads while she appeared to pray silently, presumably for the soul of the deceased. “Good night, then,” she told the group before continuing to her apartment door.

“Who was that?” Dusty asked after her door closed.

“Sister Bernadette. The best teacher I ever had,” AJ muttered while gazing down the hall. “She’d bust your chops, but never out of meanness. Her standards were high, and she expected everyone to meet them.”

“Sounds like my track coach from high school,” Dusty said.

“Sounds like my dad,” Tessa, the crime scene tech said.

AJ laughed. He liked working with Tessa, a young woman with a sharp nose sprinkled with freckles. She was new to their department. Good energy and work ethic. He pulled on a pair of gloves and shoe protectors, then knelt beside Toni’s body to join Dusty’s examination.

He blinked in surprise. He’d been under the impression that Toni was a woman. AJ noted the close shave on the deceased’s jawline and sideburns. Thick makeup was caked over the face, creased by the mouth, eyes, and forehead. The brown eyes had a dull sheen to them. Clumpy mascara coated the lashes, and bright-pink lipstick-colored thin lips. The deceased’s mouth gaped slightly. A curly blonde wig lay beneath a head that naturally bore a thick brush of hair. If AJ were to guess, he’d say Toni had some Italian heritage. The body was on the lean side, the flowered dress had gathered up around the knees, exposing muscled calves and feet encased in flat satin slippers. The dress front had been torn aside by the medics, revealing a very hairy chest. Most interesting, aside from the wig and makeup, was the amount of jewelry on the wrists and fingers. AJ had only seen that much jewelry on a woman who worked at the store where he and Melinda had bought her engagement ring.

“No external injuries. There’s a soft area at the back of the skull that needs a closer look, but I can’t comment until I get him on the table,” Dusty explained. “The victim’s apartment is secured, and the photographer took photos in there, too.”

“That’s Toni?” Meadow asked with a puzzled expression from her spot on one of the stepping plates along the hallway wall. “She looks so…different. Not because she’s dead. She’s so…”

“Masculine,” Dusty supplied. “Yes. Did you know?”

“No!” Meadow exclaimed. “I mean, I never asked, but Toni never gave me any reason to suspect… I assumed she was a woman with a deep voice. Why would she—he—dress like one?”

“People have all kinds of reasons.” Dusty gently lifted one hand and looked closely at the blunt-cut fingernails, painted mauve. Two fingers wore rings with gemstones, gaudy enough that they could be fake. “Plus, around Eugene it’s not that strange, is it? Between the college and the art scene, well, we keep it almost as weird as Portland.”

“Bit strange for this age group, though.” AJ made a note to have the jewelry examined. That might be a motive to disguise oneself, to wear wealth as a way of keeping it safe. “You never suspected?” he asked Meadow, while patting down the body, discovering no pockets or concealed items.

She shook her head. “I had no idea. I’m pretty sure Toni identified as female on the intake form, but now I’ll have to go back and check.”

“I’ll be interested in seeing any paperwork you have. We need to contact next of kin, obviously, and determine whether any health conditions may have played a role here.”

“Absolutely. Do you need me to get it now?”

“We can head downstairs to your desk in a minute.” AJ sat back on his heels and waited for Dusty to finish his end of things. While he waited, he studied the wide hallway. Brown carpet covered the floor. The doors were closed as was the window at the far end of the hall. The muffled sound of a TV came from one room nearby, but otherwise it was quiet. Some of the apartment doors were decorated with wreaths and signs. The room numbers hadn’t changed from when AJ had gone to school here.

Dusty completed his preliminary exam and packed up his kit. “My guys can take the body.” He stood and brushed off his knees and nodded to the two officers.

“Stay here until Dusty’s team removes the body,” AJ instructed them. “Then you can release the hallway.” Nothing he’d seen suggested Toni’s death was a crime. His only questions involved sorting out the deceased’s identity, and that information would be found in their apartment.

Dusty reached into his pocket. “I think we’re good here until I get a closer look on the table. We can release the body after I perform an autopsy tomorrow.” He handed Meadow his business card. “If you have any questions.”

“Thanks.” She raised her eyebrows quizzically at AJ. “What happens now?”

“We’ll need to find next of kin for formal identification, but for now we’ll rely on Sister Bernadette and Meadow’s statements that this person presented themself as Toni Travi,” he explained.

Meadow’s shoulders relaxed, and she breathed out a long sigh. “Thank God. I mean, I’m sorry Toni’s dead, but it looks like she died naturally. Maybe a stroke or heart attack. That’s to be expected at a place like The Abbey. I’d hate for there to be any scandal is all.”

He turned to Meadow. “Can we take a look at Toni’s apartment?”

She nodded and led him, Tessa, and Dusty farther down the hall to room 218, the old science lab. AJ noted each classroom door’s original glass window had been replaced with a frosted pane for privacy.

AJ told her, “Please don’t touch anything,” when she reached for the door handle. He held out his hand, still gloved. “Key?”

Meadow slid her canvas backpack off her shoulders and dug around in it for a moment before producing a ring of keys. She passed it to him, her thumb and forefinger pinching one silver key. “It’s strange to see a door locked here. People at The Abbey are pretty relaxed. Most don’t bother locking their door because the building is secure. If you ask me, the biggest crime around here is Fern’s doll collection. Those things are straight-up creepy, staring out at you from their shelves.” She laughed.

AJ led Tessa and Dusty beneath the police tape stretched across the door’s entrance and turned on the light switch. “Wait out here,” he told Meadow who stood in the hall watching them intently. He expected to smell the sulfur from the Bunsen burners and the formaldehyde that always lingered in the air after Sister Dorcas walked them through basic frog dissections. The grayish cast of the internal organs always disgusted him as he’d struggled to differentiate the tiny slime-coated parts. Now he discovered the apartment smelled faintly of a floral perfume.

The lab tables and metal stools from AJ’s day were no longer part of the décor. Toni’s apartment was sparsely furnished with a couch, chair, coffee table, and lamp. Old classroom cupboards housed a kitchen area, where a stove, microwave, and fridge had been added. While Tessa photographed the rooms, AJ and Dusty opened cupboard doors and found dishes, cups, and pantry items. Rows of potted houseplants grew in front of the windows. “For someone who wore so much makeup and jewelry, this apartment is surprisingly plain,” Meadow said from the doorway.

“You haven’t been in here?” AJ asked Meadow while looking beneath the kitchen sink. Pipes and a bottle of dish soap.

“Not since the day she moved in. I try to respect everyone’s privacy. A few of our residents don’t invite others in, like Cliff and Bruiser. Others keep their door open all the time. Toni was one who kept to herself.”

AJ picked up the envelopes stacked on the coffee table. Utility bills and a flyer for a casino. The room showed no signs of a struggle. He moved to the bedroom and bathroom, admiring the construction that broke the old classroom space into a proper apartment. “Are all of the apartments like this?” he asked.

“More or less. This one’s bigger than most. They added walls inside each classroom and built accessible bathrooms and kitchen space. Most apartments have only one bedroom. It’s a confusing building with all of the additions over the years. I still ask Bernie questions every now and then. She’s the real expert around this place.”

Dusty crossed his arms over his chest and yawned. “Speaking of bedrooms, I’d really like to get back to mine.”

AJ flipped on the lights in the bedroom and noted clothing flung across the bed and dresser. No medicine bottles, nothing out of the ordinary. The bathroom counter was full of tubes and compacts, all cosmetics. Aside from heartburn medication and a bottle of aspirin, there was nothing to suggest Toni had a medical condition. “It’s late. I’ll come by tomorrow for a more thorough search. Meanwhile, we’ll lock the apartment. Can you keep it secure?” He stepped back into the hall.

“Absolutely.”

AJ twisted the door lock before closing it behind them, then slid the key off the ring before returning the rest of the keys to Meadow. He handed the key to Toni’s apartment to Tessa. Dusty led the way back downstairs through the now-empty hallway. Dusty’s team must have removed the body and the equipment while they were in the apartment. An eerie silence filled the lobby, and AJ spoke quietly. “Can I see the file on the deceased?”

“Of course.” Meadow went behind the desk and opened a filing cabinet drawer.

“We’ll talk tomorrow,” Dusty said and clapped AJ on the back. “Nice to meet you. Good night,” he told Meadow before waving and leaving through the main doors of The Abbey.

Meadow rifled through the files and pulled out a green folder. She handed it to AJ. “I’ll need that back for the retained files, and I don’t want the file to wander. It’s important to protect people’s privacy.”

AJ was impressed. Despite her appearance, Meadow wasn’t a flake. She must be good at her job because Bernie had addressed her respectfully. AJ knew his old teacher had no patience for incompetence or stupidity. He and Tessa left The Abbey with Toni’s file. In his car, AJ scrolled through the photos he’d taken of Toni’s application forms for emergency contacts. Two were listed, and he called the numbers. Both calls went straight to voice mailboxes. No surprise because AJ liked to silence his phone while he slept, too. He’d try again in the morning. His lack of urgency was prompted by his hunch that Toni’s death had been of natural causes. But living in a disguise suggested Toni’s life held secrets that might have been criminal in nature.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
 
 

Book Info:

Meddling and murder can both be deadly sins

When retired nun and teacher Sister Bernadette returns with her fellow residents to The Abbey: Senior Living, she is the first to discover the body sprawled in the hallway of the converted school where she once taught English and now lives. Instead of freezing with horror, Sister Bernie has questions. Lots of them. Why does Toni Travi, the bedazzled and bejeweled resident from apartment 218, have so much chest hair? Did anyone at The Abbey know Toni was a man? Was Toni’s death related to allegations that she cheated at cards? Where’s the murder weapon? Who had motive? And did someone kill Toni, or the man hiding beneath the Revlon foundation and blonde wig?

Detective AJ Lewis is in charge of the investigation though Sister Bernie acts as if he is still her student. With unholy stubbornness, she dogs his every step, eavesdrops, sneaks beyond the police tape and offers unsolicited conjecture and clues. He wants to keep her safe, but she’s determined to lend a helping hand—it’s her habit, after all!

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Meet the Author:

Melissa Westemeier grew up around the edge of nerd culture, but marriage and motherhood with three sons immersed her in it. She’s fluent in Marvel, DC, Dr. Who, Star Wars, Godzilla, and more thanks to their influence. Her fiction work includes rom-com and a trilogy loosely based on her experience tending bar on the Wolf River in Wisconsin. She’s thrilled to realize her childhood dream of writing murder mysteries. Her books blend her humor and appreciation for nerd culture while tackling serious themes and unpacking the puzzle of whodunnit (and how and why!). In her spare time, Melissa needs to be outside or near a window. Her passions include hiking, swimming, biking, reading, and fantasizing about her next vacation destination.
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