The Palmetto Diaries (Daytona Beach Mysteries Book 2)

Book summary

Abby and Ivy's unexpected windfalls turn ominous when Mrs. York's death is ruled a murder. Ivy uncovers revealing diaries in her new home, while Abby navigates salon drama and an unsettling investigation led by her ex, Jack. "THE PALMETTO DIARIES" is a gripping tale of secrets, greed, and love in the Daytona Beach Mysteries series.

Excerpt from The Palmetto Diaries (Daytona Beach Mysteries Book 2)

Abby received the news while at her salon.

Everyone in the salon stared at her while she spoke cryptic sentences into the phone. Turning slowly to face everyone after clicking off, her voice quivered when she spoke.

“She’s gone.”

“Who’s gone?” Ivy asked while wiping her hands on a towel.

“Mrs. York.” That was all Abby was able to squeak out.

“You’re kidding! Really? How?” asked Ivy. She was very fond of Mrs. York. Ivy had rented a room from her in an old two-story house on Palmetto Avenue, and after Luna was born, Mrs. York had babysat the infant. Her kindnesses had endeared her to Ivy.

“Last night she had a heart attack but was able to call 911. By the time the ambulance got there, she was unconscious. The hospital just said she died during the night.” Abby looked as if she’d been slapped across the face by the news. “I-I, well, I don’t know what to say.”

Ivy left her client at the shampoo bowl, walking over to Abby. “Here, sit down,” she suggested. “In your chair, yes, that’s it. Now take a deep breath. And another.”

Sonia left her customer sitting in the chair to walk across the room to Abby as well. “Si, sit. Breathe, like Ivy say.” She placed both hands over Abby’s shoulders from behind. “Ah, caramba, tragedy.”

Tears formed in Abby’s eyes, then trickled down her pretty face. One tear caught on her chin, glistening from the light streaming from the window in the front of the salon. “She, she was like a mother to me. So wise, so kind, so wonderful.”

Ivy began to feel the loss as well. “She treated me like her granddaughter, the one she never had. Always listened to me when I needed to talk. And I had some wild things to share.” Ivy all but chuckled over her memories.

“I don’t mean to interrupt, but I have another appointment,” said the lady standing at the counter. “Could someone take my money, please?”

Sonia quickly responded by walking to the counter. “Sí,, your ticket? Okay,” she said, taking the piece of paper in her hand. “Your change,” she said with a smile after taking cash from the drawer.

“Thank you. I hope everything will be all right for her,” the woman said with a nod toward Abby, then left.Sonia looked at Abby, then Ivy. “You not look good. Sad.”

Both of them turned tear-filled eyes toward her.

“Go home. You can’t work like this,” Sonia said. “Go.”

Neither one argued over the suggestion. Both walked toward the back room for their purses.

“You’ll be all right?” Abby asked when she returned.

“Si fine. Go.”

Abby and Ivy left the salon together.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Ivy said, concern written all over her face.

Abby nodded, turning toward the double doors to the upstairs apartments. As she climbed the long staircase, she thought about how wonderful Mrs. York had been to her and Ivy. That sweet old lady would be sorely missed for sure. Not to be privileged to style her French twist every week would be a difficult adjustment.

When Rose returned home from work, she found Abby huddled in the corner of the couch with a light blanket around her. This was not normal behavior for her roommate. Usually, she found Abby cooking dinner or preparing to go on a date with the fireman who lived on the same floor.

“Abby? Are you okay?”

Abby’s blonde head peered out from under the blanket, her eyes rimmed in black, smeary mascara. She just shook her head and pulled the blanket back over her. The lump underneath near her feet moved, which told Rose that Seely, the Siamese cat, was hiding with her.

Rose wasn’t sure how to respond, so she left Abby alone and walked down the hallway to her bedroom. Abby was the most tender-hearted person she had ever known. She owed everything to her. The way she had inspired her to get off the streets and return to normal society, there was no possible way to return that gift. This strong woman guided Ivy during her most delicate season in life. Something awful must have happened for her to be hiding under a blanket.

It wasn’t long until Abby entered Rose’s room to give an explanation for the peculiar behavior. With the blanket hung over her shoulders, Abby sat on the edge of Rose’s bed. She swiped at her eyes, further smearing mascara on her face. Her blue eyes looked at Rose, filled with sorrow. Abby took a deep breath and spoke.

“Mrs. York died. A heart attack. I just found out,” she said, dropping her head to her chest.

“Oh, no! That’s awful,” Rose said. “I didn’t know her well, but I know you loved her.”

“Yes, I did.”

Silence stirred between them for a moment, each not knowing what to say.

“I also received a phone call informing me that I’m the executor for her will,” Abby’s eyes probed Rose’s face after she made the announcement. “An executor. I’ve never done that before.”

“She didn’t have any family?” Rose asked.

“She never mentioned anyone to me. Ivy told me that a young man had been living in her house before Ivy moved in. She thought he was her grandson. Mrs. York’s attorney would know about any family members and would have contacted them,” Abby said. “Yet, she chose me as the executor when there was next of kin.”

“I’m sure her attorney will guide you on what to do,” Rose said, reaching for Abby’s hand.

“I suppose.”

“Is there a funeral?” Rose asked.

“In three days. At the First Methodist Church of Daytona, on Bay Street. You know, the building with the Alamo design and that beautiful mosaic of Jesus.”

“I know it. That mosaic is incredible.”

“I guess I’ll have to close the salon so everyone can go,” Abby said. “And send flowers.”

“Yes. That would be nice.”

Abby looked into Rose’s brown eyes. “I thought she was healthy. Sure, she was up in years, but appeared very spry and healthy. Ivy thought she was healthy, too, when she was living in her house. There was never any indication this would happen.”

“People drop dead suddenly. You hear about it all the time. It just happened, is all, Abby,” Rose said.

“I’m sure she’s in a good place.”

“Yes, the woman was a believer. She’s in heaven,” Abby said, nodding her head.

“So, what’s for dinner?” Rose asked, standing from the bed.

“No clue. How does pizza sound?”

“Fine with me. I’ll order it from the corner. Should be here in ten,” Rose said as she left the room.

“No anchovies,” Abby called.

Rose smirked. They never ordered anchovies on their pizzas. Abby hated anchovies. She looked down and saw Seely wandering around as if she was hungry. “I’ll bet you’d eat anchovies, huh?”

When she walked into the salon, every eye turned. The turquoise blue hair piled on top of her head bounced as she swung her hips from side to side under the short blue skirt. Her gum-smacking red lips curved into a smile when she saw Abby. Then she let out a squeal of enthusiasm.

“A-a-a-a-by!” The woman did a short, choppy run toward Abby due to the high platforms she was wearing. No doubt, everyone had the same thought as Abby: Is she going to fall off those shoes?

Abby did not know this person. “May I help you?”

“It’s me! I’m Poppy Fowler, your new nail tech.”

Abby had inquired at an agency about hiring a nail tech. At the time, she didn’t have a moment to spare, nor the inclination to conduct lengthy interviews with the funeral being in a few days, so she let the agency handle that responsibility. From appearances, Ivy could have done a better job at her youthful twenty years of age than the agency.

“Oh, yes, I’m Abby Bugsly,” she said.

“Well, I am just delighted to meet you and be here! This is quite a nice place,” Poppy said as she glanced around.

“Thank you. Did the agency send you?” Abby wanted to make sure. She wasn’t obligated to hire anyone off the street, but if she was from the agency, it was in the contract.

“Yes. Here I am, all fixed up and ready to go,” she said with a big smile. “Honey, I can really do some fine nails. You’ll see. Why, look at mine.” Poppy held out one hand that sported long, dagger nails painted blood red.

“My, they do look lovely,” Abby said. If you like knife-pointed nails. She did not think anyone who currently patronized the salon would want any such thing.

As if reading her mind, Poppy said, “But not everyone wants what I have. So, no worry. I can do it all. Square, short, long, embellished, you name it.”

Abby felt relieved. “Well, that’s nice to hear.”

“Where’s my table?” Poppy asked, glancing around again.

“Oh, yes, the table. It’s supposed to be delivered tomorrow.” Abby shrugged her shoulders. “I didn’t know you’d be arriving so soon. I thought the agency would take longer.”

“Nope, they’re pretty on top of things.”

Abby smiled. “So, I see.”

“That’s okay, I can start tomorrow.”

“Uh, well, I have a funeral tomorrow, so the salon won’t be open,” Abby said. “I’m closing so everyone can attend since she was a client and we all loved her.”

“Oh. Okay. Then I guess I will start the next day.”

“I’m sorry to inconvenience you, but life happens.”

“And death,” she said with a soft smile.

Abby wasn’t sure what to expect. The funeral home had made all of the arrangements at the direction of Mrs. York’s attorney. He was heavily involved as the overseer of her affairs, much to Abby’s relief. She hadn’t attended a funeral since her parents’ fatal car crash, nor had she been required to make arrangements for one. Funerals were a necessary but dreaded affair. The room was so quiet when she walked in, except for the piped-in music. Only a few people had arrived and were dispersed in various areas, except for the front row seating. She didn’t see anyone who might be Mrs. York’s grandson or any indication of other relatives, nor did she recognize anyone in attendance so far. Abby guessed she was the closest thing to what Mrs. York considered family, so she sat on the front bench.