Diet Club Death: Missy DeMeanor Cozy Mystery #3 (Missy DeMeanor Cozy Mysteries)

  Diet Club Death is the third story in the Missy DeMeanor Cozy Mystery Series, but these books can be enjoyed in any order. However, if you absolutely prefer to read series in order, please start with Flea Market Fatal and then read Book Club Bloodshed.

  Dieting can be deadly!

  The curvy, voluptuous, big and beautiful Missy DeMeanor, scrapbooking savant, flea market flipper, and amateur sleuth has long struggled with her weight. Fed up with never getting any lasting results, Missy joins a mysterious, invite-only, hush-hush weight management group.

  The first rule of Diet Club?

  Nobody talks about Diet Club.

  When Missy shows up to her first meeting, she has to laugh. The secretive group is anything but mysterious and lacks any semblance of order. Missy knows half the women (women only!) there, and the members all do their own thing and share results. Seems like a safe, welcoming environment, right?

  Tell that to Karen Wise, one of Missy’s oldest friends from grade school, who turns up dead in the guest bathroom.

  The police discover Karen was on a bizarre diet and are quick to determine the death was a result of natural causes. But Missy’s not so sure. She and Karen have been friends forever and she knows in her heart of hearts Karen would never have gone on such an extreme diet.

  Determined to uncover the truth, Missy sets out to prove it was murder and bring the killer to justice. But the deeper she digs, the more secrets she discovers about her friend, Karen, the woman she thought she knew.

  Diet Club Death is the third entry in the sweet, humorous, and very fun Missy DeMeanor cozy mystery series. It’s filled with plenty of twists, turns, laughs, and a little bit of romance.

  DIET CLUB DEATH

  Brianna Bates

  Chapter One

  Melissa, a.k.a. Missy, DeMeanor looked down at the scale in utter disbelief. In just three days, she’d managed to put all ten pounds she’d lost courtesy of exercising with all the insane fitness nuts at WiredFit.

  Apparently her genes had this annoying habit of completely ignoring the good days and somehow had this superhuman ability to laser-focus on the bad days.

  One day this week—just one day—she hadn’t thought about what she put into her mouth. Her breakfast and lunch had been good, and then she and Noreen had gone out to Hank’s last night for an impromptu Wing Night. Missy didn’t even eat any wings, but she’d ordered some fried food and instead of her typical wine (Hank’s wasn’t a place you could get wine), she’d had a couple beers, and voila, she’d woken up this morning to find herself back to square one, back to the drawing board, right back where she started over a year—no, two—no, three—years ago. Back to her heaviest in her life.

  She stepped off the scale, waited ten seconds, blew out a big breath, then stepped back on.

  The electronic scale beeped twice and actually returned a weight that was one pound heavier than just a moment ago.

  “Great.” She jumped off the scale. “Now I put on weight just by existing.”

  Her beautiful Irish setter, Cody, poked her long snoot into the bathroom and looked up at Missy with eternally loving eyes.

  “Sorry, Cody. Having a bad day.”

  Cody was just a dog, but Missy knew that just this dog understood exactly what she was going through. She pulled the door open and kneeled to give Cody a hug. The dog licked the side of her face.

  Missy briefly contemplated stripping out of her underwear and stepping back onto the scale, but she decided discretion was the better part of valor and that she needed to quit while she was ahead. Or at least, quit before she got even further behind.

  Cody padded over to Missy’s empty bed and sprung onto the mattress. Normally Missy nudged the dog off, but today she didn’t have the energy. That damned scale had robbed her of all her joie de vivre.

  She unplugged her cell from her charger and dialed her best friend, Noreen.

  “What time is it?” Noreen asked in a groggy voice. This woman could sleep better than anybody Missy knew. They’d gotten home at the same time last night, but Missy had been up and at ‘em for an hour already. Noreen sounded like she’d just come out of a coma.

  Missy checked the time on her phone. “Nor, it’s ten o’clock already.”

  “Oh God. I have to go back to bed.”

  Before Missy could get a word in, Noreen ended the call. She put on a t-shirt and shorts (shorts! Her arch nemesis) and carefully walked downstairs, her thighs screaming at her still from her workout routine at WiredFit. She’d been going there for three months and by now she would have expected to be used to the exercise, but no dice. Most of the time, she still experienced soreness the day after.

  Outside, the air was surprisingly cool for a morning in June. Cody followed her into the garage, where two end tables of different designs were set up, waiting for her to work her magic. There was a mid-sizish flea market in Willingboro coming up, so if she wanted to move these pieces she really needed to get her act together. She sat in an old folding lawn chair silently and looked the end tables over, waiting for that inspiration to come. Instead of the muse, however, it was Noreen that called her first.

  “Thanks for waking me up,” Noreen said.

  Missy smiled. “What are friends for?”

  “I hope it’s important. You know how much I love sleep.”

  “It’s very important. It’s life and death.”

  For a moment, Noreen grew serious. “Was there another murder?”

  Missy laughed. Two murders had happened in the last year in their small Pennsylvania town, Grove City. Missy had helped the police solve the first and, with help from a local attorney and private eye, had solved the second.

  “No, but there’s going to be.” Missy leaned her head back. “I’m about to murder the scale in my bathroom.”

  “Missy, you don’t need to lose weight.”

  Missy just shook her head. That was what everybody said to your face, when they were really thinking something else. No matter how many times she’d tried to explain how annoying that was to Noreen, her best friend just didn’t pick up on the hint.

  Today she decided to try a different tack. “Nor, I’m comfortable with my body and myself. I want to lose weight to get healthier, not because I’m trying to whittle my belly down to a six-pack.”

  It would take more than whittling, but Missy knew Noreen wouldn’t split hairs.

  “Oh. Well, that’s a good idea.” Noreen’s voice was tentative. “I mean, if that’s why you’re doing it. Not because of how you look. I mean, Missy, you’re totally hot.”

  Missy shook her head. Everywhere they went, all the men drooled over Noreen who was pretty, petite, and slim. If any guys showed a passing interest in Missy, it was just her catching Noreen’s shrapnel.

  “So I have a favor to ask,” Missy said.

  She could hear Noreen rolling her eyes. “Aren’t we square yet?”

  Missy faux-cackled. “My dear, Noreen, my best friend, if you’ll recall, only a few short months ago I saved you from the gas chamber.”

  “The prosecutor didn’t plan to ask for the death penalty, so you’re being dramatic.”

  A few short months ago, Noreen had been the prime suspect in Anne Baxter’s death. With all the evidence pointing at her best friend, Missy had stubbornly refused to believe Noreen could physically hurt anybody, let alone murder them. Through sheer determination and a little luck, Missy had identified the real killer and saved Noreen from going to prison.

  “Minor details,” Missy said. “I need a wing chick.”<
br />
  Noreen’s voice went up an octave. “You’re going to the bar again tonight?”

  “No. I’m going to try that—”

  Noreen groaned halfway through her sentence. “Don’t say it.”

  “—that Diet Club.”

  Noreen lowered her voice. “First rule of Diet Club.”

  Missy laughed. “There is no Diet Club.”

  “Miss, I need to be invited. I can’t just go. They’ll take me out back and kill me and bury my body somewhere.”

  Missy laughed. “No, all I’m asking you to do is keep my honest. I have to check in with you every day about progress.”

  “That’s all? And then we’re square?”

  “Somehow I don’t think saving you from the gas chamber is the same thing as you agreeing to talk to me about my progress for a couple minutes every day.”

  ***

  The Diet Club was invite-only, was incredibly secretive, and required members to complete a non-disclosure agreement whereby they could never, ever tell non-members the identities of the members, and where members had to get permission from a supermajority of the other members to invite in somebody new. There was one other rule: no men were allowed.

  Missy’s old friend from grade school, Karen Wise, had invited her to join but for months Missy had politely declined, preferring instead to attack her weight through the insanity of WiredFit’s workouts of the day. And also, from what Karen told her, the Diet Club was this mysterious place that almost sounded like a cult.

  Missy hadn't actually seen the movie Eyes Wide Shut, but still she figured the super secretive Diet Club would look and feel much like the strange anonymous sex cult had in that film.

  She pulled into the long, curving driveway that led to what could only be called the estate, a tall, broad white home with two big pillars out front. She was a few minutes early for the meeting scheduled to start at eight, and the sun was just beginning to set.

  There were at least fifteen cars clogging the driveway already, and she could only get a spot about halfway down. She managed to fit her old, puttering truck off to the side of the driveway but didn't turn off the engine.

  She didn't know exactly what went on at these meetings, though her old friend Karen swore by them. Over the years Missy had tried other diet clubs, spending as much as six months in one. It was the same story every time: good results came early and often first, a strong support network kept you motivated for a little bit, but then inevitably life intruded in all its small, all-consuming ways. Those initial results disappeared slowly but steadily and before she knew it she was back to square one.

  She took out her phone. Noreen answered right away.

  "Are you still alive?"

  Missy laughed. "Yes. But I just wanted you to know I'm about to go in. So if you never hear from me again, you'll know what happened."

  "At least send me the address."

  Missy laughed again, but not as hard. It was a little weird she couldn't share the address. "They swore me to secrecy."

  "You know this is how all horror movies start, right? A lone woman ends up in a secluded, mysterious place with bad cell phone reception."

  Missy pulled the phone away from her ear, and sure enough, she only had one bar lit up on her phone. Noreen was right.

  "I'll be fine. There are fifteen other cars here."

  "Is Karen there?"

  Missy heard a beep. "Speak of the devil."

  "And she shall appear."

  "Talk to you later." Missy disconnected with Noreen and answered the incoming call from Karen. "Hey, Care Bear."

  "Hey, Missy Sissy."

  Missy smiled. "I have not heard that nickname in over twenty-five years."

  Karen chuckled. "I haven't said that nickname in over twenty-five years."

  Missy couldn't help but go back in time to science class in third grade, where Mr. Blaylock had kept several terrariums of creatures, mostly insects and snakes. One time he'd taken the snake out to allow the kids to feel its skin. Missy had worked up the nerve to touch the snake's back but then had gotten light-headed and literally fainted. One of the nastier girls in school had taken to calling her Missy Sissy, until Missy, having had enough of her taunts, challenged her on the playground. Their girl-fight was mostly windmilling arms and hair-pulling, but all the same Missy had emerged victorious before the teacher aides had separated them. After that day, nobody called her Missy Sissy, except for Karen in what they would later call an "ironic" way.

  "I'm here," Karen said. "Where are you?"

  Out of the corner of her eye, Missy saw a shape move in the deepening gloom right next to her truck and shrieked.

  "Oh," Karen said. "There you are."

  Missy climbed out of the truck. She and Karen hadn't seen each other in over a year, but they traded emails and messages on Facebook on a regular basis. They had been best friends in grade school and middle school, but then Karen's family had moved to the next town over. Missy and Karen had kept in touch sporadically, and after that Noreen and Missy had become best friends.

  "I could kill you," Missy said. "You scared the bejesus out of me."

  "That's what all the guys say."

  "Oh stop."

  Like Missy, Karen had always struggled with her weight. In grade school they took a liking to one another for reasons Missy couldn't remember, but by middle school they shared their sob stories about weight and boys and looks. Missy was tall for a woman and voluptuous, whereas Karen was short and rectangular. They hadn't seen each other much in the last few years, but Missy could tell that Karen had lost a significant amount of weight recently.

  "Kar, you look great!" Missy gave her a hug.

  "Thanks." Karen coughed as she pulled away. "I'm a little under the weather...usually this would be exactly the thing to throw me off track, you know? I'd get sick and tell myself it was okay to forget about the diet and then, next thing I knew, I'd be off the diet permanently."

  Missy knew that story all too well. "Yes, it only takes one tiny little thing, doesn't it?"

  "It's really good to see you." Karen tried to give her a smile, but she hacked a cough again. “Do you have the signed contract?”

  Missy had almost forgotten. She opened her purse and took out the document. “I’ll admit, I didn’t read the whole thing.”

  Karen smiled. “It is a bit over the top.”

  Missy laughed. She recalled a few of the provisions she read in the contract. Members of the Diet Club were prohibited from revealing the identity of other members to anyone not in the club. The penalty was breach of contract and the person agreed to pay a fine of five hundred dollars to the club. There were also fines for “passing judgment” on any other member and for “failing to be one hundred percent supportive.”

  "Ready to go in?" Karen asked.

  Missy eyed the big house tentatively. "It's kind of creepy. Coming all the way out here, on a lonely stretch of road, to this big, decadent-looking house, meeting with a bunch of woman I don't know—”

  "Miss, believe me, you're going to know many of them. Probably most."

  That thought made Missy relax. It meant there would be women from Grove City. She took a deep breath, already feeling better.

  “Before we go in.” Missy grabbed Karen’s arm. The shorter woman barely reached Missy’s shoulder. “What’s the craziest diet you heard about in here?”

  “Well.” Karen faced her and lowered her voice. “The tape worm diet.”

  “What?” Missy had never heard of it and feared it was exactly what it sounded like.

  “It’s exactly what it sounds like,” Karen said, as if reading her mind.

  Missy felt ready to throw up. “Tell me you didn’t…”

  “NO!” Karen practically shouted. “It’s disgusting, not to mention dangerous. I’ve tried some crazy diets but I’d never put my health in risk like that.”

  “Gross.”

  “Totally.”

  Chapter Two

  The portico itself was abo
ut the size of Missy’s house. The double doors opened as if on cue, an old butler with male pattern baldness admitting them. He smiled but made minimal eye contact.

  The foyer was wide and high-ceilinged with a spiral staircase that wended to the second floor. The chandelier was turned on but dimmed, and the few lights on the end tables and bureaus along the walls of the foyer weren’t on. Missy squinted as she looked down the long hallway that receded into the distance. There was so little light, she could barely see anything.

  “Okay, I’m officially creeped out,” Missy said.

  Karen swatted her arm playfully. “Come on, Missy Sissy.”

  Missy pretended to be angry. “Nobody calls me that.”

  Karen smiled, bringing out those dimples that Missy remembered on her cheeks. “Except me.”

  “Alright.” Missy turned to look back down the hall. It was impossible not to think about the butler in his penguin suit standing only a few feet behind them, just waiting by the door, overhearing and seeing everything.

  “But the minute I hear chanting, I’m out of here,” Missy said.

  Karen affected a fake, evil British accent. “By the time you hear chanting, it will be too late.”

  Missy followed her old friend down the hallway. Karen hacked a few more coughs along the way. Missy asked if she was getting sick or getting over something, but Karen denied both. The hallway was as dimly lit as the foyer, the wooden walls seemed to press in as they walked. Missy swore some of the eyes on the oil portraits they passed followed them.

  Missy kept her voice low. “She lives here alone?”

  Karen nodded. “Mrs. Butterworth has lived alone here for almost twenty years.”

  “Tell Mr. DeMille she’s ready for her close-up.”

  Karen shooshed her. “She’s really nice.”

  “Eccentric, but nice?”

  “Exactly.”

  At the end of the hallway, Karen turned right and stopped in front of closed door. A little bit of light spilled from under it, but not much. Missy was literally in a sweat now, the house was totally creeping her out.