Extra! Extra! Dead All About It (An Avery Shaw Mystery Book 12) Read online

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-One

  Twenty-Two

  Twenty-Three

  Twenty-Four

  Twenty-Five

  Twenty-Six

  Twenty-Seven

  Twenty-Eight

  Twenty-Nine

  Thirty

  Mailing List

  About the Author

  Books by Amanda M. Lee

  Extra! Extra! Dead All About It

  An Avery Shaw Mystery Book 12

  Amanda M. Lee

  WinchesterShaw Publications

  Copyright © 2018 by Amanda M. Lee

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Prologue

  1. One

  2. Two

  3. Three

  4. Four

  5. Five

  6. Six

  7. Seven

  8. Eight

  9. Nine

  10. Ten

  11. Eleven

  12. Twelve

  13. Thirteen

  14. Fourteen

  15. Fifteen

  16. Sixteen

  17. Seventeen

  18. Eighteen

  19. Nineteen

  20. Twenty

  21. Twenty-One

  22. Twenty-Two

  23. Twenty-Three

  24. Twenty-Four

  25. Twenty-Five

  26. Twenty-Six

  27. Twenty-Seven

  28. Twenty-Eight

  29. Twenty-Nine

  30. Thirty

  Mailing List

  About the Author

  Books by Amanda M. Lee

  Prologue

  Twelve years ago

  “I don’t understand why I have to be here. It’s a complete and total waste of a dud of a day.”

  My mother always says it’s not smart to say whatever comes to your mind. Because she’s my mother, I feel the need to prove her wrong. I’ve made it a point to say everything that comes to my mind, and so far it’s working out well. I’m a legend in the making.

  No, really.

  I, Avery Shaw, am the bluntest person in the land … and I can’t tell you how freeing that is.

  “You’re here because you got caught with Jake in the woods behind your house and he had his hands up your shirt,” my grandfather replied without hesitation as he pressed his hand to the back of my neck and directed me toward the gymnasium door. “Your mother freaked out because she thinks you’re going to get pregnant, and now you’re stuck with a chaperone twenty-four hours a day because you’re not very bright when it comes to picking spots to make out.”

  I adopted a haughty air. “That shows what you know. I wanted to get caught.”

  Grandpa slowed his pace. “Why?”

  “Because I have a perverse need to see if I can make Mom’s head spin around like that kid in The Exorcist. Vomiting pea soup would be an added bonus, but isn’t necessary.”

  Grandpa pursed his lips as he regarded me. “I see.”

  I wasn’t sure he did, but because I’m me I was willing to test him. “It’s not as if we were doing anything kinky. It was mild petting and a little tongue action. That’s hardly the stuff of nightmares.”

  Grandpa’s expression was hard to read. “I see.”

  He kept saying that, but I was almost positive he was simply trying to placate me. “Mom overreacted. We weren’t doing anything bad and now you’re stuck entertaining me when it’s not your fault that Mom is a busybody.”

  This time Grandpa cracked a smile. “I’m not here to entertain you. I’m here to make sure that you don’t run off and do something dirty with Jake.”

  “That doesn’t sound like a very fun job.”

  “It’s not.”

  “So why don’t you send my mother a very clear message – one that says you won’t kowtow to her ridiculous demands because you’re a unique and powerful individual – and cut me loose?” I suggested. “I promise to behave myself while torturing her, and you can do … whatever it is you’re about to do.” I thoughtfully stared at the gymnasium door. “You’re not here to pick up high school students, right?”

  Grandpa, who looked as if he was about to smile, merely shook his head and narrowed his eyes. “Why would I possibly want to pick up a high school student?”

  Was that a trick question? I shrugged. “We happen to be a lot of fun.”

  “I’ve spent the last hour with you and can say without hesitation that you’re not any fun,” Grandpa countered. “You have a few moments when you’re entertaining – although they’re few and far between – but you’re hardly someone I’d want to hang out with on a regular basis.”

  I didn’t believe that for a second. “Then why did you tell Mom you were taking me for a malt last week when you really took me to the golf course so I could serve as your caddy and drive that one guy you don’t like crazy?”

  Grandpa’s face remained even. “I don’t believe that’s what I planned, even though that’s how the afternoon shook out. Why would you think that?”

  Oh, he wasn’t getting off that easy. “Because you gave me twenty bucks to do it. Your only instructions were, ‘If he cries, I’ll add another twenty.’”

  Grandpa’s lips quirked as he ran his hand through his thinning hair. “And did he cry?”

  “Only after I barked like a dog when he bent over and the seam on his shorts gave way.”

  Grandpa snickered. “I thought you were pretending to be a cow.”

  “It was more a hybrid animal. It was a cow-dog.”

  “What’s a cow-dog?”

  “It’s what would happen if scientists decided they wanted our milk machines to chase their tails. No mailman would ever be the same.”

  Grandpa’s smile slipped. “You watch too much television.”

  “There is no such thing as too much television. I find television educational, and you told me that we should always be open to learning, so … now you’re sending me mixed messages. Which one do you actually believe?”

  If he was mildly amused before, Grandpa shifted to agitated within five seconds flat. “Do you know what your problem is?”

  Ah, here we go. “I don’t have any problems. I’m absolutely perfect, and anyone who has ever met me tells me exactly that.”

  “You’re so full of crap sometimes I want to buy you diapers,” Grandpa shot back. “Your problem is that you think you’re the smartest person in the room.”

  I considered the statement. “No, I know I’m the smartest person in the room.”

  Grandpa extended a warning finger. “That right there!” He waved the finger back and forth. “You are not the smartest person in the room.”

  That was news to me. “Who is? Do you think you’re the smartest person in the room?”

  “Absolutely not. If I were the smartest person in the room I would’ve reco
gnized that your mother was trying to trap me when she suggested I take you for the day. She had a spiel ready and everything. I should’ve seen it coming.”

  Hmm. That was interesting. “What was her spiel?”

  “She asked me how I felt about being a great-grandfather and letting you move in with me if you got pregnant.”

  I rolled my eyes. “And that’s all it took to trap you?”

  Grandpa shifted from one foot to the other, uncomfortable. “Not necessarily. The thing is … I think you’re funny and I don’t mind hanging around with you fifty percent of the time.”

  “Oh, well, that’s possibly the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me,” I drawled.

  Grandpa didn’t bother to hide his irritation. “The other fifty percent of the time I want to hang you from the flagpole by your thumbs.”

  I glanced at my fingers, intrigued. “How would you do that?”

  Grandpa was confused. “What?”

  “Hang me by my thumbs. It seems to me that no matter how hard you tried I’d be able to slip through the knots and escape. We should totally test if that works later.”

  “Oh, geez.” Grandpa slapped his hand to his forehead. “You talk just to hear yourself sometimes, don’t you?”

  “I do love the sound of my voice. If I wasn’t tone deaf I’d consider a singing career.”

  “Oh, I think we’re all missing out there.” Grandpa rolled his neck and rested his hands on his hips. “What were we talking about again?”

  “You don’t remember? Maybe you’re getting old and losing your memory or something. I hope that’s not the case, because it’s going to make earning money simply for irritating people on your behalf more difficult. It won’t be impossible, of course, but you need to remember your enemies if you want me to torture them.”

  Grandpa slid me a sidelong look that promised mayhem if I refused to adjust my attitude. “Do you know what your problem is?”

  “I have a wild guess.”

  Grandpa ignored my sarcasm. “Your problem is that you refuse to shut your mouth for five minutes and let a body have a bit of rest.”

  He wasn’t wrong about that. “Do you need rest? Are you feeling so old you need a nap or something?”

  Grandpa scowled. “I have no idea how I let your mother talk me into this.”

  “I don’t know either,” I readily agreed. “It seems like something you’re regretting now. Do you want to talk about that? We could do it over ice cream if you’re so inclined.”

  Grandpa heaved a sigh, defeated. “Avery, you’re one of my favorite grandchildren. Have I ever told you that?”

  The sentiment caught me off guard. “No.”

  “There’s a reason. You’re not. That was a lie.”

  Now it was my turn to grin. “You just made me feel like queen of the world, Grandpa. I hope you know that I’ll never forget this moment. Years from now – when you’re dead and gone and I’m left with nothing but memories – I’m going to dwell on this moment and remember when you told me I was your favorite.”

  “That’s not what I said.”

  “That’s what I heard.”

  Grandpa stared at me for a full three seconds, his hands balled into fists on his hips. “Do you know what your problem is?”

  This was a game we liked to play. He repeated that question over and over until one of us gave up out of frustration. When I was a kid he won almost every time. Now that I was older I refused to back down – never give up and never surrender … you know, all that jazz – and the game was getting more and more interesting. At least for me. I had a feeling the game was akin to torture for Grandpa.

  “I’m sure you’re going to tell me what my problem is.”

  “I definitely am,” Grandpa agreed without hesitation. “I’m going to tell you right now.”

  “I’m waiting.”

  “Your problem is that you always have to win.”

  Ah, here we go. He’d mentioned this more than once. It was the one thing we always agreed on. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

  “It is. No one can win one-hundred percent of the time.”

  “I happen to believe I can.”

  “Really?” Grandpa cocked a challenging eyebrow. “Do you know anyone who has ever won one-hundred percent of the time?”

  That was an interesting question. “Wonder Woman?”

  Grandpa pinched the bridge of his nose. “I just … are you saying that you think you’re Wonder Woman?”

  “There are worse gigs. While I’m not a fan of running around in a bathing suit because it means constant bikini waxes, she has an invisible plane and awesome accessories. I would love to have that lasso thing to control my enemies.”

  “Yeah. I have no idea how this conversation made such a turn.”

  “I don’t either.” I sympathetically patted his shoulder as I flicked my eyes to the gymnasium door. One of Grandpa’s morning coffee buddies – the guy who ran the local gas station – walked out the door and offered Grandpa a half-wave before strolling by without acknowledging me. That was rather rude. “Isn’t that your friend?”

  “I wouldn’t call him my friend,” Grandpa replied. “He’s an acquaintance … who I happen to hate fifty percent of the time.”

  “Like me?”

  Even though I didn’t mean for it to be a serious question, Grandpa treated it as such. “I don’t hate you fifty percent of the time. I merely only like you fifty percent of the time.”

  “How is that different?”

  “I love you – despite your mouth – a hundred percent of the time,” Grandpa replied. “On days like today, though, I have no idea why.”

  “I think you’re just soft on me.” I poked his side and grinned.

  Grandpa’s expression turned fond. “Sadly, I think that’s probably true.”

  I stared at him for a long beat and then turned to serious business. “What are we doing here again?”

  “Oh, right.” Grandpa snapped back to reality. “It’s the primary election. I have to vote.”

  I tilted my head to the side, confused. “I didn’t know we had primary elections. This town only has like, three elected positions.”

  “And I want to make sure one guy – you know that jerk who lives across the road and keeps reporting me to the city for not trimming my bushes, right? Yeah, him – I want to make sure he’s not elected mayor. That means I have to vote for the person running against him even though she’s a woman.”

  I stilled, surprised. “You don’t want to vote for his opponent because she’s a woman?” That was insulting.

  “Oh, don’t do that.” Grandpa made a face. “I get that you’re all ‘woman power’ and ‘fight for your right to make men cry,’ but women aren’t geared for political office. I’ve always believed that, and it’s not about to change.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “You know how I like to make your friends cry? I might switch my efforts to you this afternoon.”

  Grandpa snorted. “Bring it on.”

  “Don’t tempt me. I have a few new tactics … and they’re diabolical even by my standards.”

  Grandpa had the wisdom to look worried. “Avery … .”

  I held up my hand to cut him off. “I don’t really care if you believe that crap or not.” That was true. “I’d make an excellent politician because I deserve to be in charge. I have faith in myself … so it doesn’t matter what you believe.”

  Grandpa’s lips curved. “That is one of my favorite things about you. But really, all politicians are liars, and I think they should all be shot. That’s the real reason I don’t think women should run for office.”

  That didn’t make much sense. “So chivalry makes you believe that women aren’t fit for office?”

  “Exactly.”

  “You’re full of it.” He was my grandfather, but that didn’t mean my respect had no limits. “You’re sexist and you know it.”

  Grandpa didn’t bother lying a second time. “Things were different in my da
y.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” I waved him off. “I don’t really care. I honestly can’t believe we’re still here.”

  “I told you I have to vote against the neighbor. I don’t like him. If he gets too much power, he’ll be unbearable.”

  “So vote against him.” I followed Grandpa toward the door. “I have no problem with you voting against your enemy. It’s not how I would operate, but you’re more mature than I am, so … you have to do the boring thing when plotting payback.”

  Despite himself, Grandpa was intrigued. He paused by the door, his fingers wrapped around the handle. “Do you have a better idea about going after him?”

  “I always have a better idea.”

  Grandpa licked his lips. “I’m still going to vote to be safe. Once I’m done, though, we’ll talk.”

  “Does that mean you’re willing to negotiate about how carefully you’ll watch me this afternoon?” I challenged. “I mean … let’s say I give you a great revenge scenario and even carry out the heavy lifting. Would you, in turn, forget that you were supposed to be watching me and drop me off with Jake?”

  Grandpa didn’t look happy to be put on the spot. “I don’t know. Your mother won’t like that.”

  “See, to me, that’s half the fun.”

  Grandpa stared me down for a long moment. “We’ll see how good your plan is.”

  “Have I ever let you down?”

  “Not since you were eight.”

  “Then don’t worry about it,” I said. “Vote, and let’s get moving. I want lunch to bolster my energy if I expect to make a grown man cry.”

  Grandpa’s smile was back. “Have I ever mentioned that, at times, you’re my favorite grandchild?”

  “These are all times when Derrick isn’t around, right?”