Chapter 1.I looked at my new bathroom and smiled. “That will help sell the house—a lovely new bathroom like that.”
My best friend, Lettie, grimaced.
“Don’t you like it?” I gestured expansively at the room. The old asbestos walls had been removed by specialists, the plumber had hauled out the ancient bathtub and shower, and in their place gleamed a glass shower and a freestanding bathtub. I’d been careful not to spend too much, but I thought it looked rather fabulous.
Still, Lettie’s lack of enthusiasm worried me. She had impeccable taste. “I know you don’t like the chocolate-coloured floor tiles—you’d have gone for all white. But it’s not too modern for an old Victorian cottage, is it?”
Mongrel chose that exact moment to leap into the bathtub. He planted himself like an inspector on official business, flexed his claws, and dragged them down the smooth white side with the kind of slow, deliberate violence that made my teeth ache. Scratch. Scratch. Scratch.
Lettie didn’t even blink. “Well,” she said, “it doesn’t look too modern now.”
I covered my face with my hands. “I’d love to stop him, but I’m not suicidal.”
“You let him ruin your brand-new bath?” she asked, horrified.
“Let him?” I said. “You try prying him out. Go on. I’ll get the Band-Aids ready.”
We both stared at Mongrel. He stared back, utterly pleased with himself, and raked another long line just to prove the point.
Lettie spoke over the sound of scratching. “It’s a beautiful job, to look at, anyway. I just think the plumber charged you too much, Narel. I’m sure you didn’t need custom glass walls for the shower. They come in standard sizes.”
“But he said the floors were uneven and the walls weren’t at right angles, so it had to be custom-made. Do you think he was lying?”
Lettie shrugged. “I know he’s called Gold Service Plumbing, but really he should be Gold Rates Plumbing. He overcharges.” She must have seen my face, because she patted my shoulder. “It does look lovely, and it will help sell your house. Bathrooms and kitchens—that’s what buyers care about. Has your boyfriend found you a place to buy yet?”
I groaned. “You said you wouldn’t tease me about Munroe anymore. He’s not my boyfriend.”
“Not yet.” Lettie said. “It’s a beautiful evening. And you should feel good about yourself—you rescued Mongrel from the shelter.”
I laughed. “Lettie, you rescued him, remember?”
We both looked down at Mongrel, who stared back with orange eyes, one ear bent at an odd angle. He stopped scratching and meowed, showing off a terrifying row of sharp teeth.
“He’s come a long way since then,” Lettie said, bending to stroke him. “Remember when he wouldn’t even come out of his basket?”
“I remember how he attacked half the town,” I said dryly.
Lettie laughed. “He saved your life more than once, Narel, don’t forget that. Rescued animals are the best.”
“They sure are.” I glanced at the time. “I’d better get to the shop. The council said I have to remove that outdoor toilet.”
“It is a bit of an eyesore,” Lettie admitted. “Even if no one can see it from the street. What are you going to put there instead? Maybe a nice outdoor setting for summer?”
I shrugged. “Maybe. First Bob Jones has to disconnect the water, then I’ll get someone with a backhoe to knock it down and fill in the hole. Hard to imagine the potential when that little wooden building fills the space.”
“Oh no, you’re using Bob Jones from Gold Rates Plumbing again?” Lettie sniggered.
“What do you have against him? Your house is too new to have plumbing problems.”
She flushed red. “I just heard he overcharges. I bet he’ll charge you overtime for coming out after hours. Be careful, Narel.”
“It’s not as if I’m hard up for money,” I reminded her. “The settlement from the accident means I’m fine.”
She wagged her finger. “That money has to last, Narel. The chocolate shop brings in income, but you need your nest egg.”
I sighed. “Fair enough. But really—have you ever found a cheap plumber? Anyway, I’d better run. The council will fine me if I don’t move that toilet soon. Bob was fully booked, so I’m lucky he’s squeezing me in, even if it’s late.”
Lettie scowled but said no more.
“Want to come with me?”
She shook her head. “I need to get back to Louis XIV. He’s missed me.”
Her pampered Persian, a retired show champion. “But you work from home. You’re always there.”
She blushed. “I just haven’t given him enough attention lately.”
I had the oddest feeling she was hiding something. But from me, her best friend?
I dropped her home and headed to my chocolate shop.
Although we’d agreed to meet at seven, it was only ten to and Bob’s ute was already parked out front. I went down the side alley, through the tall wooden gate, and into the courtyard where the toilet stood.
Bob was bent over the old structure, a spanner in hand. He swung around. “Narel. Thought I’d get an early start.”
I hoped he wasn’t planning to bill me for overtime on top of arriving early. “Going smoothly?”
He snorted. “You should know by now nothing in an old house goes smoothly.”
“This isn’t a house. It’s an outdoor toilet,” I said, already fearing the invoice.
He shook his head. “This thing’s ancient. Hasn’t been touched in decades. It’ll take longer than I thought. Probably cost ten times what I quoted.”
My heart sank. “But you said that about the bathroom too.”
Bob shrugged. “That’s plumbing. Anyway, come AND have a look.”
I edged closer, wary of spiders. “I’ll take your word for it.”
“I’ve just gotta pop home for more tools,” Bob said. “Are you heading off or sticking around?”
“I’ll be in the shop.”
He shut the toilet door behind him. “I’ll sing out if there’s a problem.”
I retreated inside, cleaned for a bit, then rewarded myself with hot chocolate and peppermint creams. Hours slipped by, my eyes burning from accounts work. When I finally looked at my phone, it was nearly ten. Three hours just to disconnect water from a toilet?
I peered out the shop window. His ute was still there. Surely he wouldn’t leave without telling me.
Deciding to check, I went out the front and around the side. As I reached for the gate, it was flung open and someone barreled into me, knocking me flat.
Bob?” I shouted, sitting up, my palms grazed. But there was no apology, no pause. Whoever it was had vanished.
Blood trickled down my arm. I staggered to the street. Bob’s ute was still there—but no Bob.
I returned to the courtyard. From where I stood, I could see his legs, stretched out of the toilet door.
I rushed over, pushed the door wider. His head was inside the toilet.
“Bob! Don’t put your head in there!”
No response. I flicked on my phone light
And screamed.
The wooden bench directly behind the toilet seat was covered with deadly redback spiders.
