Good Riddance: Book 3 Georgie B. Goode Gypsy Caravan Cozy Mystery Read online

  Table of Contents

  GOOD RIDDANCE

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  ABOUT GOOD RIDDANCE

  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

  Note from the Author

  Copyright notice

  GOOD RIDDANCE

  Book 3 of the Georgie B. Goode Gypsy Caravan Cozy Mystery Series

  By Marg McAlister

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  Whether she wanted to believe it or not, from birth Georgie was destined to follow in Great-Grandma Rosa’s footsteps—as well as inherit her crystal ball! Here’s your chance to find out more about the crabby old lady that Georgie sees as a kind of taciturn genie.

  Visit my website below and sign up to our Georgie Updates list to get your complimentary copy of “Fortune’s Wheel”.

  http://georgiebgoode.com/free-georgie-book/

  ~~~

  The Georgie B. Goode Gypsy Caravan Cozy Mystery Series

  In order of publication

  Good to Go (Book 1)

  Georgie Be Good (Book 2)

  Good Riddance (Book 3)

  Books 1-2-3 Box Set

  ~~~

  Release Dates for future titles

  Up to No Good (Book 4) July 20th 2015

  In Good Hands (Book 5) June 30th 2015

  As Good as it Gets (Book 6) August 10th 2015

  ABOUT GOOD RIDDANCE

  Georgie knows that it takes all kinds to make a world. After all, she’s had to put up with her rat-fink brother Jerry B. Goode all her life, hasn’t she? And not too many people have a Great-Granny like Rosa! But when she does a few readings at the RV park in Santa Monica, one of her first customers is a hulking great teenage boy, who seems more inclined to want to see her arrested than to seek her help.

  Georgie can sense there’s more behind his football-jock muscles and acne scars than meets the eye, so she keeps digging—but as the plot thickens, she finds herself calling on her fledgling Crystal Ball Investigations team for help. What they lack in experience, they make up for in ingenuity!

  As though the football jock and his gullible mother aren’t enough to cope with, her brother Jerry also seems hell-bent not only on relegating her beloved vintage van division to a tiny corner in the massive Johnny B. Goode RV Empire yard, but also on alienating her lovely and talented friend Tammy.

  It’s going to take a lot of hard work before Georgie can say a heartfelt ‘good riddance!’ to all of these problems in her life…

  CHAPTER 1

  It wasn’t often that a teenage boy found his way to Georgie’s gypsy caravan to have his fortune told. In her experience, boys of that age usually stood around looking bored or wrestling with each other, while their giggling girlfriends queued up to find out if they were going to be lucky in love. (“Not likely,” Georgie felt like advising them, “unless you find a male who’s a bit less of a Neanderthal.”)

  But kids were kids, and she could still remember the awkwardness of most of the boys she’d been to school with.

  Now, here was another one.

  Bending his head to walk through her door, tripping over his own feet on the way in, he was like a puppy that still had to grow into his paws. He stood there almost touching the ceiling, and shoved his big hands into his pockets, looking everywhere but at her face. He looked as though he’d been put together out of a kit, with nothing quite fitting into place.

  Reddish-brown hair flopped over his forehead, but his brows and lashes were black. A good-looking boy, but with some acne scarring on his cheeks that probably made him self-conscious. She put him at about seventeen.

  “Hi,” Georgie said. Looking at him, she was glad that she had put the little picket fence around her van, with a gate that held her sign “Please wait here for the next available appointment.” That way, she could leave the door open for some fresh air and still maintain confidentiality. Males as big as this one made her feel claustrophobic when the door was closed.

  “Take a seat.” She waved at the bench seat behind the table, and then changed her mind. “No, wait. You’ve got such long legs; you might be more comfortable in a chair. Hang on.”

  She leaned out of the door and hauled up the folded camp chair that she kept handy for larger clients. Some were tall, like this boy. Others couldn’t squeeze in between the table and the seat.

  “Thanks.” He took the chair from her and unfolded it, and settled himself in it. He still looked awkward.

  “It’s a little cramped in here for taller people,” Georgie said, sitting opposite him. “Can I get you a soda? Or a water?”

  He shook his head, still not meeting her eyes.

  Okay, thought Georgie. This was going to be a getting-blood-out-of-a-stone exercise.

  “Have you been to a fortune-teller before?” she asked pleasantly.

  That made him look at her—glower at her, more like. “No.”

  She gave a mental sigh, but persisted. “So what brought you here today?”

  “Entertainment,” he said, his brown eyes challenging. “Isn’t that what it says on the sign? That none of this is for real?”

  Her carefully hand-lettered sign did indeed say for entertainment purposes only, to comply with the law… but what was he getting at?

  “Fortune-telling can be entertainment, yes,” she said carefully.

  He seemed to struggle with himself, and then forced a smile. “You have to say that, right? But you can tell the future. You advise people.”

  Georgie sat and looked at him for a moment, trying to work out his agenda. Was this a boy who needed help, but was putting on an aggressive front to hide his embarrassment? Or was he trying to bait her?

  “People ask me questions,” she said finally, “and I do my best to answer them. You have to understand that I don’t base what I say on facts. How could I? I don’t know the people who come to me. I don’t know you. I have no idea why I know some of the things I do, and that’s why I class it as entertainment.” She shrugged. “Make of it what you will…just remember that in the end, we all have to make our own decisions.”

  “What if I don’t agree with what you say?” His Adam’s apple moved convulsively as he swallowed. “What if I think it’s all rubbish and refuse to pay you?”

  Then I think I’d recommend that your mother give you a good spanking, she thought, but kept calm. There was something going on here.

  “If you felt that strongly,” she said, “then I’d let you go and write it off to experience. I’m here to help people, not to make their lives more difficult.”

  “Hah. So you admit it. How can you help people with problems if you can’t really see into the future?”

  Georgie sighed. Did she really need this? “What’s your name?”

  He set his jaw. “You should be able to see that in your crystal ball, shouldn’t you?”

  “It’s possible,” she said. “Give me a false name if you want to. I need to call you something.”

  “Anthony,” he said.

  Nick, Georgie heard, as clear as a bell. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a wisp of white mist forming in her crystal ball. She ignored it, maintaining eye contact with the boy.

  “Fine, Nick,” she said. “Anthony it will be, if that’s what you prefer.”


  His eyes widened and his lips parted in surprise. “How did you do that?”

  “Lucky guess,” Georgie said dryly. “It couldn’t possibly be the crystal ball. Tell me why you’re here, Anthony.”

  “Well, if you know what it is, there’s no point,” he said sulkily. “Just go ahead and tell me my fortune.”

  “You were a lovely baby,” Georgie said. Probably true, she thought. He was good-looking now; he was undoubtedly very cute then. “You had your mother in the palm of your hand. Whatever you wanted, you got. Which probably accounts for your sad lack of manners now.” She was on a roll. “In high school, you had to decide between football and basketball, and football it was. If you’d stuck with basketball, you would have been a Shaq O’Neal type, but you decided you could use your weight to more advantage on the football field. You’re doing okay, but you get into trouble now and then when you skip training.”

  He scowled when she got to the bit about bad manners, but locked his eyes on to hers when she talked about football and basketball.

  “You’re guessing again,” he said, with a shade less certainty in his voice.

  “I could well be,” she agreed. “I could be using native intelligence, too, seeing you’re wearing a football jersey under that jacket. And with your attitude, it’s likely that you would skip training and have arguments with the coach.”

  He sat back and folded his arms, daring her to go on.

  “Are you feeling entertained yet?” she enquired sweetly.

  “Tell me some more.”

  “Tell me some more, please, Georgie.”

  “You’re not my mother.”

  “You don’t know how glad that makes me feel.”

  His brows lowered, and just as Georgie was fully expecting him to get up and leave, he bit out, “Please tell me some more.”

  In her mind, Rosa’s unmistakable voice croaked, “Tell him his mother’s mad at him because he forgot to feed Rusty.”

  Startled, Georgie directed her gaze down at the crystal ball. Her great grandmother couldn’t give her any information two weeks ago when a customer was facing arrest on a trumped-up charge, but she could show up now to talk about this kid needing to feed his dog?

  Right, she thought. One phone call to Rosa coming up.

  “Well?” he said, watching her narrowly.

  Georgie sat back and folded her arms. “Your mother’s mad at you because you forgot to feed Rusty.”

  His face changed. “You’ve been talking to my mother. Haven’t you?”

  “Anthony, I—”

  “It’s Nick.”

  “Nick, I’ve never met your mother.”

  “Liar,” he said. “She was here yesterday, and the day before. She’s been telling you all about me, and you recognized me as soon as I walked in, didn’t you? About how I had to choose between football and basketball? That’s how you knew my name, and my dog’s name.”

  He shoved the chair back and stood up. “You’re a fake. People like you shouldn’t be taking people’s money. And I’m not paying you.”

  With that, he whirled and stamped down the steps of her caravan, making it shake.

  Georgie returned her gaze to the crystal ball, now innocent of any mist. Looking cheerful, it reflected a yellow beam of light angling in from one of the stained glass windows.

  “Well, that went well,” she said, drumming her fingers on the table.

  CHAPTER 2

  Layla was keeping an eye out for her, and when Georgie followed Nick/Anthony down the steps of the van she waved her over. “I’ve made lunch! Come and see my new table setting!”

  Layla liked nothing better than to switch her dinnerware and tablecloths around, delighting in the effect of something new. Everything was in pastel shades, with color names like Pink Chablis and Ice Blue and Pale Apricot.

  Today they were lunching outside, taking advantage of the mild weather, and Layla had draped a tablecloth with big pink cabbage roses on it over the outdoor setting. Dainty sandwiches were arranged on a pink plate with scalloped edges, and near it sat a new teapot in palest green, with tiny sprigs of pink blossoms around the base. The lid was matching pink, and the delicate cups echoed the colors.

  “Where did you get that?” Fascinated, Georgie lifted the teapot and peered at it. “It’s gorgeous!”

  “Bought it at the retro rally, from someone who’s buying a new van in different colors. Isn’t it great?”

  “And look at you.” Hands on hips, Georgie surveyed Layla’s pink gingham apron ridged with white eyelet lace, tied in a saucy bow at the back over her white shorts.

  “I haven’t dressed up for three days,” Layla pointed out. “I was getting withdrawal symptoms. I bought this from the same person. She’s going all bright blue and white next time.” Then she took a second look at Georgie, and pushed her giant sunglasses with heart-shaped lenses high on her forehead. “You’re looking a bit strained. Difficult client?”

  “You could say that.” Georgie sank into a chair and chose a chicken and lettuce triangle. “Mmmm. Yum. New dressing?”

  “Apricot sauce.” Layla poured Earl Grey tea and pushed the cup and saucer towards her. “Here. Try this. And tell me what’s wrong. Anything you can talk about?”

  Georgie tipped her head on one side and thought about it. How could you describe Nick/Anthony? A teenage kid with a chip on his shoulder about fortune-tellers… man, she got some weird customers at times.

  “A teenage boy,” she said, “grown too big for his body, you know the look? Big and gangly at the same time. He wanted to be,” she drew quote marks in the air with her fingers, “entertained.” But when I gave him some real information, he said it was because his mother had told me all about him. His mother. As if.”

  “I saw him leave,” Layla said. “It’s a wonder he fit in the van. And when, exactly, are you supposed to have seen his mother?”

  Georgie licked a trickle of apricot sauce off her fingers and took a sip of the Earl Grey, and then closed her eyes in appreciation. “Mmm, you bought the kind with the flowers in it, didn’t you?”

  “Organic bergamot oil and blue cornflowers. Cost a bomb.”

  “This kid,” Georgie said, “said his mother had been to see me twice this week. I think I know which one she was. Kind of an alternative type.”

  “If someone came twice, I guess you’d remember.”

  “I have my groupies,” said Georgie primly, putting her nose in the air. “Lots of people come back for a second and third reading. One came every day last week.” She cast her mind back. “This kid’s mother, if she’s the one I’m thinking of, dressed in layers. You know, three different tops, skirt and loose scarf.” She snapped her fingers. “Katherine. That was her name.”

  “And did she talk about the kid?”

  “Only in passing. Didn’t mention his name—or the dog’s—despite what he says. And guess who popped into the reading today, floating around in my crystal ball? Rosa.” Georgie rolled her eyes. “And what did she tell me? That he should remember to feed his dog. Would she help me out when I needed her a few weeks ago, with poor Sarah and James? Oh no, not a whisper. But she butted in today. Go figure.”

  “Rosa sent a message? She only does that if you should be paying attention.”

  “And yet, she rarely tells me anything useful. Just pops in with something cryptic or to poke at me.”

  “Still.” Layla swiped a second triangle of bread. “These are really good. If I were not bursting out of my shorts, I’d have made more.” She demolished it in two bites, and went on, “She’s clearly sending you a message about more than the dog. I must meet your great-grandmother one day. She sounds interesting.”

  “She is that,” Georgie agreed wryly. “I’m going to phone her later. I haven’t spoken with her in person since she told me to consult the crystal ball at the end of the RV Expo three months ago. And look where that got me.” She swept an arm around. “Sitting in LA wondering why this teenage kid has it in for me.”<
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  “You also prevented Kaylene from losing most of her savings to a con man in Dayton,” Layla reminded her, “and saved young Izzie’s life. That’s pretty special.”

  “Even more special,” Georgie said, “Is that I ended up with a Crystal Ball Investigations Team.” She pointed at Layla with mock sternness. “So perhaps my team had better put their heads together and figure out what young Nick wants.”

  Layla grinned. “Are you saying we’re not pulling our weight?”

  “Not at all,” Georgie said serenely. “You’ve only just found out. Now you can nudge the rest of the team into action.”

  “Nudge them yourself.” Layla nodded behind her. “Here comes Tammy, with your favorite brother. And by the look on her face, Jerry is about to dump something else on you.”

  Oh good. The perfect end to her morning.

  Georgie turned and sent Tammy a sunny smile. Which wasn’t hard, because Tammy was one of her favorite people, even if her taste in men was incomprehensible. Today she looked as if she were about to go sailing, dressed in a smart navy blouse with a loose rolled white collar tied in a flirty bow, and four large white buttons emphasizing the trim hips of her bright red shorts. Her blonde hair was still in the Marilyn Monroe waves she had adopted for the recent retro rally.

  “Morning, Tams.”

  “Hi Georgie, Layla.” She leaned over and examined the new teapot. “Ooh! Look at this. This gives me an idea for the vintage Van display back at Elkhart. Where can I get one of these? Jerry, this is exactly what I was talking about this morning.”

  Jerry cast a perfunctory look at the flower-sprigged teapot. “Yeah, great. Whatever you want, Tams. You’ll have it looking great. Just great.”

  She exchanged a look with Layla and turned to look at Jerry. “One too many ‘greats’ there. One day I’ll adjust to the fact that you have no appreciation for vintage.”

  “Better get used to it,” Georgie advised her. “If your RV doesn’t have four slides, a party lounge and a bar it doesn’t rate.”

  “Georgie, be good,” Jerry reprimanded her. “You know I’m committed to growing all divisions of this business. Which brings me to a matter I needed to discuss with you.” He cast her a wary look. “Now, hear me out before you start carrying on.”