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  Praise for 50% off Murder

  “50% off Murder is a great deal: there’s mystery, romance, and humor wrapped up in one entertaining package. As a bonus, there’s no extra charge for those laugh-out-loud moments. I look forward to many more adventures from Maggie and her friends…Meanwhile, bring on those money-saving tips!”

  —Mary Jane Maffini, author of the Charlotte Adams Mysteries “If you love to shop ’til you drop, watch out for Josie Belle’s first entry in a new mystery series—because murder’s no bargain.”

  —Leann Sweeney, author of The Cat, the Wife and the Weapon

  “100% fun. It’s the real deal!”

  —B. B. Haywood, author of Town in a Wild Moose Chase

  “50% off Murder successfully launches a new series filled with a terrific cast of characters. It’s a treat to see a mature group of women use their knowledge of the town and their business skills to look for a killer. And, Maggie is a wonderful amateur sleuth…100% captivating and enjoyable.”

  —Lesa’s Book Critiques

  “A fun, well-plotted mystery with the added bonus of some money-saving tips.”

  —The Mystery Reader

  “An entertaining cozy starring interesting characters…Readers will admire [Maggie’s] risk-taking spunk and enjoy the sparks between her and the sheriff.”

  —The Mystery Gazette

  “This author knows how to engage the reader’s interest. Good, solid writing, well-formed characters, an enjoyable premise, a possible romance in the making, and a mystery that slowly unfolds its secrets.”

  —Once Upon a Romance

  “With some interesting characters and a unique theme, this series is sure to be a hit!”

  —Debbie’s Book Bag

  “Readers who want a laugh-out-loud mystery should enjoy 50% off Murder.”

  —West Orlando News Online

  Berkley Prime Crime titles by Josie Belle

  50% OFF MURDER

  A DEAL TO DIE FOR

  A Deal to Die For

  Josie Belle

  BERKLEY PRIME CRIME, NEW YORK

  THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP

  Published by the Penguin Group

  Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA

  Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario M4P 2Y3, Canada

  (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.) • Penguin Books Ltd., 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL,

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  Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s

  imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business

  establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over

  and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  A DEAL TO DIE FOR

  A Berkley Prime Crime Book / published by arrangement with the author

  PUBLISHING HISTORY

  Berkley Prime Crime mass-market edition / January 2013

  Copyright © 2012 by Jennifer McKinlay Orf.

  Excerpt from Buried in Bargain by Josie Belle copyright © 2012 by Jennifer McKinlay Orf.

  Cover illustration by Mary Ann Lasher.

  Cover design by Sarah Oberrender.

  Interior text design by Laura K. Corless.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or

  electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of

  copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  For information, address: The Berkley Publishing Group,

  a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.

  ISBN: 978-1-101-61876-9

  BERKLEY® PRIME CRIME

  Berkley Prime Crime Books are published by The Berkley Publishing Group,

  a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.

  BERKLEY® PRIME CRIME and the PRIME CRIME logo are trademarks of

  Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that this book is

  stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher, and neither the

  author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”

  ALWAYS LEARNING PEARSON

  For my editor, Michelle Vega—thanks for all of your fabulous input and for loving the Good Buy Girls as much as I do.

  Acknowledgments

  I want to thank the fans who have written and told me how much they love Maggie and

  the girls and have shared their wonderful bargain-hunting stories with me. I also

  want to thank Mary Ann Lasher, the artist of this wonderful cover. It is truly spectacular.

  And as always big props go to my boys, Wyatt, Beckett, and Chris for making me laugh

  every day—and especially when I’m on deadline.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Five Tips on the Art of Resale

  Buried in Bargain

  Chapter 1

  “I feel sick to my stomach,” Maggie Gerber said. She glanced at the mortgage papers in her hand and tried to inhale through her nose to calm her heart palpitations. Her palms were damp, and she was afraid she was going to leave sweat marks all over the terrifying, legally binding sheaf of papers clutched in her fist.

  “It’ll be okay.” Ginger Lancaster, her best friend since the days when they were both in knee socks and patent leather Mary Janes, looped an arm around her shoulders and squeezed her tight.

  “Come on, open the door,” Joanne Claramotta said from Maggie’s other side.

  “Yes, hurry. I have to get back to the library before my lunch hour is over,” Claire Freemont said.

  Maggie glanced at her friend
s. These were the Good Buy Girls. They had established a firm friendship over the past few years, brought together by their mutual love of thrifty deals and bargains. And now, as Maggie ventured forth into owning her own business, they were her support group and consultants as well.

  She fished the key out of her bag and put it into the dead bolt. The lock clicked, and she pulled the glass door open and ushered her friends inside.

  Ginger flipped the switch to turn on the lights. Maggie glanced at her friends’ faces, looking for what she hoped was reassurance about the fact that she had just offered up her house as collateral and signed the next fifteen years of her life away.

  Joanne was bouncing on her feet in excitement. Her long, dark hair, swept up in its usual ponytail, was swinging as she hurried from clothing rack to clothing rack, looking at what had been left behind by the previous owner, as if hoping for a bargain. She was entirely too optimistic, and Maggie realized what she was really looking for was someone to echo her stark terror.

  Claire gave the room a more considered look. Her blonde bob and dark rectangular-frame glasses made her look studious, as if she were planning to write a dissertation on the ramifications of mortgaging oneself to up one’s eyeballs in order to buy a secondhand store. Her obvious doubt was not at as comforting as Maggie had hoped.

  And Ginger…well, she flung her arms out wide and spun around in a circle like she was auditioning for a part in a musical. Maggie half expected her to break out into song as her skirt twirled about her knees in a perky pirouette. Ginger’s dark brown face was lit by a wide grin, and she reached out and grabbed Maggie’s free hand.

  “You did it!” she cried. “You bought My Sister’s Closet, and now you can make it into anything you want.”

  Again, Maggie felt this was unwarranted optimism. Her legs gave out, and she slipped her fingers out of Ginger’s and slumped onto one of the vintage velvet chairs left behind by the previous owner, lowering her head between her

  knees.

  “I can’t do this,” she said. “I don’t know anything about owning my own shop. I must have been having a midlife crisis when I thought I could do this. Why couldn’t I just buy a sports car and take up with a man half my age? Or get a boob job and take a cruise around the world? That would be normal. This—this is crazy!”

  “Of course, you can—” Joanne began, but Maggie cut her off.

  “No, I can’t!” Her voice was reaching the high-pitched decibel of hysteria, but Maggie couldn’t seem to stop herself. “The only things I know how to do are shop sales, take care of Dr. Franklin’s bookkeeping and raise my daughter, Laura.”

  The papers she still clutched were becoming soggy in her panic-slicked hands, and the skin on her forearms and neck itched as if a severe rash was coming on.

  “She doesn’t look so good,” Claire said to the others. “I’m afraid we have a full-on panic attack fast approaching.”

  “Find a paper bag for her to breathe into and a cool cloth for the back of her neck,” Ginger ordered as she knelt beside Maggie.

  Joanne and Claire dashed around the half-empty store while Ginger stayed with Maggie. She rubbed Maggie’s back as if she were soothing one of her boys after a nightmare.

  “Now, you listen to me,” Ginger said. She was using her stern no-nonsense voice. “Laura is at Penn State, and she’s doing fine. Dr. Franklin is semiretired now and doesn’t need you as much. When he retires completely, he won’t need you at all. It is time for you to find your own niche, and this shop is it.”

  “But what if I fail?” Maggie moaned.

  “Oh, honey, you won’t. You and I grew up on Hardy Street together, remember?”

  Maggie snorted. She did remember. She and Ginger had both come from large families where thriftiness was considered a way of life. It had given them a bond as young girls that they had maintained when they’d both stayed in St. Stanley to raise their own families.

  “Now, hear me,” Ginger said. “You are the type of gal who can squeeze a copper penny into wire if need be. If anyone is destined to make a successful business out of resale, it is you, and I’m saying that not just as your friend but also as your accountant.”

  Ginger gently pulled Maggie’s shoulder-length auburn hair away from her face so that her velvet brown eyes could meet Maggie’s green ones. Maggie sucked in a steadying breath and hugged her friend tightly. Leave it to Ginger to talk her down from the ledge yet again.

  “Thanks,” she said. “You’re the best.”

  Joanne and Claire came back into the room with a paper bag and a wet cloth. Maggie took the cloth and put it on the back of her neck to stave off any more panic, but she waved away the paper bag, hoping she wouldn’t need it.

  “Better?” Claire asked.

  “I think so,” Maggie said. She forced her lips into a smile, and the others seemed reassured.

  “The first thing this place needs is a new coat of paint,” Joanne said. “Honestly, what were they thinking with the pea green walls?”

  “Great, more money down the drain,” Maggie muttered. “Next it will be the plumbing, or I’ll have to get new windows, or maybe there will an electrical fire.”

  Ginger grabbed the paper bag from Joanne and snapped it open. She held it out to Maggie, and said, “Breathe.”

  Maggie took it and clamped it over her mouth.

  “Paint is cheap,” Joanne said. “When Michael and I bought our deli, More than Meats, it needed painting in the worst way, so we checked out the Oops paint pile at the Home Depot over in Rosemont and got the perfect colors for a quarter of the price.”

  “I love the Oops pile,” Claire said. “The lavender in my bedroom came from there.”

  Maggie lowered the bag. “Oh, I like that color,” she said.

  She glanced at the walls and pictured them in shades of dove gray and pale blue. She wanted the shop to have a classic-looking interior, not something that would get dated too fast. Her heart gave a little skip, but she realized that this time it was enthusiasm and not anxiety giving her palpitations.

  Her happy little bubble of hope abruptly popped when the front door was yanked open and in strode Summer Phillips. Summer had been a thorn in Maggie’s backside from the day they’d met in kindergarten.

  After thirty-six years, Maggie would have thought their enmity might have diminished, but no. So fresh was Summer’s hostility that it seemed like just yesterday that Maggie had been playing in the kindergarten’s toy kitchen with Ginger when Summer demanded that Maggie let her have a turn. Maggie had refused because her pretend cake wasn’t done baking, and Summer had responded by shoving Maggie headfirst into the toy oven.

  Maggie’s head had been wedged so tightly that their teacher, Mrs. Grady, had no choice but to use Crisco to get it out. Naturally, everyone in class called her “greasy locks” for weeks afterwards. A nickname coined by Summer, of course. Maggie had hated Summer from that day forward, and the feeling was mutual.

  “Is it true?” Summer asked.

  She stood in her purple platform pumps with one red talon-fingered hand on her hip as she tossed back her long blonde extensions and took in the half-empty shop at a glance. “You actually bought this dump?”

  Maggie opened her mouth to speak, but Ginger stepped in front of her and asked, “Was there something you needed, Summer? Because I do believe the sign on the door reads, Closed, or can you still not read?”

  “Funny,” Summer said without humor. “But, yeah, there is something I need.”

  “This should be good,” Joanne said to Claire, obviously not caring if Summer heard her or not.

  She trotted over to the window and gestured for them to follow her. “See that?”

  Reluctantly, Maggie put one foot in front of the other. Whatever Summer was going to show her was not going to make her happy. She knew that just like she knew Summer’s double Ds were big fakeys.

  “That”—Summer paused to tap on the picture window with a spiky nail—“is now mine.”

  M
aggie looked out across the town green toward what used to be an appliance store. She had known the store was closing and was sad about it. She had always gotten her kitchen gadgets there and even though she knew that the owners were retiring and selling the store, she hadn’t quite accepted it. She certainly had not known that Summer had bought it.

  “That is my new resale store, Second Time Around,” Summer announced. Her eyes sparkled with malicious glee. “Now I don’t want my customers to be offended by looking across at this eyesore. So, clean it up, or better yet, why don’t you sell it before you lose your shirt? Ha! Get it? Lose your shirt?”

  As if sensing the urge to slap Summer was going to be more than Maggie could bear, both Ginger and Joanne moved in close and penned her in on each side, while Claire hustled forth and grabbed Summer’s elbow and pulled her toward the door.

  “Look at the time,” Claire said, not even bothering to consult her watch. “I have to get back to the library. Walk with me, Summer? Gee, that’d be great.”

  Claire dragged Summer out the door without waiting for her answer. As soon as the door shut, Ginger and Joanne stepped away, as if expecting Maggie to go volcanic on them.

  She couldn’t blame them. Her relationship with Summer did not bring out her best side. She took a steadying breath.

  She refused to give in to the temptation, no matter how mighty, to punch, kick or shred something in the aftermath of Summer’s bomb-dropping. Summer had done more than enough damage for one day.

  Maggie let out a long breath and turned to Ginger and Joanne. They were both watching her with wide-eyed stares. She curved her lips into what she hoped was a serene smile.

  “What did we have planned for our next bargain-hunting venture?” she asked.