Fixer-Upper Murder: A Cold Case Cozy Mystery: Hollywood Whodunit, #12

Copyright © 2023 Brittany E. Brinegar

Cover Design © 2023 Britt Lizz

All rights reserved

BRITT LIZZ PUBLISHING COMPANY

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

Created with Atticus

Contents

About the Book

1.Home Sweet Home

2.Home Strange Home

3.Unfinished Business

4.Beach Hunters

5.Design on a Dime

6.If Walls Could Talk

7.Houses with History

8.Lawn And Order

9.In with the Old

10.Trading Spaces

11.Going Yard

12.Former Glory

13.Frozen in Time

14.Open Concept

15.Good Bones

16.Surreal Estate

17.Flipping Out

18.Revealed

19.Wise Buys

20.Bang for Your Buck

21.All-Star Flip

22.Clean House

23.Risky Builders

24.One of a Kind

25.Gut Job

26.Curb Appeal

27.Bet the House

28.Fixer-Upper

Sneak Peek

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The Secret of the Bluebonnet Ranch

Becky-isms

About the Author

Books by Britt

About the Book

Her dream house is a nightmare in disguise. But the leaky roof and termites are nothing compared to the dead body.

After her first success in Hollywood, amateur sleuth Becky Robinson buys a fixer-upper in Lemon Hollow. But the discovery of a skeleton in the walls throws a wrench into the remodel.

With no clue as to the skeleton’s identity or when she died, Becky must put her investigative skills to the test and trace the history of her new home. The walls are talking and they’re spilling secrets of a priceless heirloom.

Can Becky unravel the decades-old clues? Or will the cold case kill more than her home sweet home?

Hollywood Whodunit Series Order

Book 1: Prime Time Murder

Book 2: Stand-In Murder

Book 3: Music City Murder

Book 4. Trap Door Murder

Book 5: Fool's Gold Murder

Book 6: Holly Jolly Murder

Book 7: Blue Suede Murder

Book 8: Family Reunion Murder

Book 9: Summer Vacation Murder

Book 10: Sunlight Swindler Murder

Book 11: Castle Island Murder

Book 12: Fixer-Upper Murder

Book 13: Hometown Murder

Book 14: Big Apple Murder

Book 15: Devil Wears Murder

1

Home Sweet Home

The wheels of my suitcase banged across the concrete steps as I dragged it upstairs to my apartment. Lorelai tugged on her leash, eager to return home after three weeks away. Hold your horses, Pupper. I’m moving as fast as I can.

The Jack Russell Terrier scratched at the base of the door, knocking the welcome mat askew. Her head twisted to the side and a powerful, German Sheppard-size bark caused her to rear up on her back legs. Shhh! It’s too early for the ra-ra-roo howl. Our neighbors are sleeping.

I dropped my suitcase, duffle, and doggy bag as I searched for my keys. I tapped my front pocket and the back but came up empty. Why didn’t I prepare for the eventuality and keep my house keys in my hand? The toaster slipped from under my arm and bounced toward the railing.

We should have made two trips, Lois said from the landing. She propped one foot on the next step and stopped to catch her breath. I’m not going to make it.

I rolled my eyes, unfazed by my best friend’s dramatics. She treated a single flight of stairs as if it were a climb of Kilimanjaro. I have faith in you.

That makes one of us. She tossed a neck pillow to the second floor and rested an elbow on the handrail. What were we thinking bringing so much stuff?

I dug into the pocket of my cardigan, still hunting for the house key. We definitely don’t travel light.

After filming my first movie on location in Texas, my confidence skyrocketed. Solving a murder and saving the production tended to have that effect. And my performance as a supporting character wasn’t half bad either. But the second we crossed the border into California, insecurity returned.

Hollywood didn’t care what you did in the past, only what was on the horizon. I didn’t have time to bask in the glory of my first movie. I needed to lock up my next project.

My agent informed me I was the favorite for a part in Prime Suspect, but nothing was ever guaranteed. And a small guest star role wouldn’t pay the bills for long.

Do you have the keys? I asked.

Lois kicked a folding chair as she struggled up the remaining few steps. You’re kidding, right?

I can’t find them.

Her eyes cut to the parking lot. Why did your crazy actress bestie fly out of here like the place was on fire?

Deborah was in a hurry to return the RV rental. By six they charge for another week.

At least we never have to see her again. I’ve had enough Deborah Lane to last a lifetime.

That’s assuming we aren’t cast in another project together.

Lois’ dark eyes cut to me. Don’t even joke about that, Becky.

She isn’t that bad.

Speak for yourself. Lois spread her arms, dumping everything but her cat carrier.

My forehead creased as I spotted something shiny grasped between Kitka’s white paws. Catwoman strikes again.

What are you talking about?

The little thief stole my keys. What happened to breaking her klepto habits?

Lois’ mouth pinched as she unzipped the carrier. I guess we still have room for improvement.

I shoved the key into the lock and the door blew open before I could turn the latch. We didn’t forget to lock up, did we?

For three weeks? Her voice cracked. I sure hope not.

I stepped over our junk piled on the porch and crept inside. Lorelai yanked on her leash and wagged her tail as if she spotted something through the darkness. Is someone here?

A burglar? Lois gasped and hoisted the toaster over her shoulder. Are we interrupting a robbery in progress?

If so, they’re going to be sorely disappointed. I squinted as I tried to make out the shapes in the living room. The only thing we have of value is our Walmart TV.

Still, we should call the police. They could be dangerous or deranged… or both.

I’m only joking, Lo-Vo. I sighed and flicked the light switch. No one’s here.

Then how do you explain the unlocked door?

I shrugged. Our landlord probably dropped by.

To collect rent? Her lips curled. That’s worse than coming home to a robber.

Speak for yourself I have a check burning a hole in my bank account.

One movie and you think we’re rich. She scooted a bag inside with her foot. Need I remind you, a 2nd-2nd Assistant Director is paid in experience and Monopoly money.

I unclipped Lorelai’s harness and she raced Kitka to the empty water bowl. You already have your next gig lined up with Scary Kerri but I could be unemployed for months before my next role.

Working for Scary Kerri is hardly a sure thing. Though the director gave her trouble in the beginning, she eventually came to appreciate Lois. She fires people at the drop of a hat.

I filled the bowl at the sink and carefully walked it back to the hallway without spilling a droplet. Lorelai spun in circles, excited for the refreshing treat. Kitka hurdled the puppy and rushed to the water first. You two do know it’s just water, right?

A thump coming from my closed bedroom sent me scrambling back into Lois. Did you hear that?

She nodded. I think Goldilocks found a bed that was just right.

I opened the hall closet with a creak and grabbed my softball bat. The Cyclone produced more than a few hits in my high school days but I never used it to fend off an attacker. Not successfully, anyway.

What are you going to do with that? Lois asked.

Invite him to a pickup game at the sandlot next door. I tightened my grip. What do you think I’m going to do?

My bedroom flung open and I swung at the first thing that moved. The intruder ducked below my bat like a limbo bar in the matrix. My cheeks flushed as I recognized the gray-haired man. Dad?

Dad? Lois spread her fingers and peeked around the blindfold. Our burglar is Gallagher?

Howdy girls. My father massaged his lower back. Good thing I have reflexes like a cat.

Dad, what are you doing sneaking around our apartment at five in the morning? I tossed the Cyclone in the closet. I could have hurt you.

I dropped by to see you.

Lois motioned to the pile of laundry in the hamper. When?

A couple of weeks ago. I figured you’d be back any day. Where were you, anyhow?

Filming a movie in Texas.

No kidding? He chuckled. I just came from there. Guess I should have called first, huh?

Lois clutched her chest. No harm done. I only suffered mild cardiac arrest.

Glad to hear it. Gallagher tied the belt of his robe and smoothed his out-of-control bedhead. Anybody up for breakfast?

I frowned at my father. Even for a flaky inventor like him, the visit was out of the ordinary. What brings you to California, Dad?

Business is booming, Sweetheart.

My eyebrows rose. The inventor business?

What else? He clapped his hands. Do you remember the Spritzo 3000?

Remember it? How could I not? After months of listening to Dad prattle on about the gizmo, I still had no idea what it did.

Thanks to your help on the cruise I was able to secure an investor and patent the product.

You don’t say. I forced a smile. Congrats. Throughout my life, Gallagher Robinson was always on the brink of his big break. He patented all sorts of things but nothing ever came of it. As bad as I was with money, he was worse. A fact that drove my sensible attorney mother crazy and led to their divorce. Dad was the inventor who cried payday but no matter how much he failed, he remained optimistic.

And now that my life is finally together, I plan to win your mother back.

I choked on air. What? My parents divorced when I was eight and unlike most kids, I never fantasized about them getting back together. They drove each other and everyone around them insane. Dad, maybe you should wait a while and make sure the Spritz is…

Spritzo, he corrected.

Right… I cleared my throat. You don’t want to get ahead of yourself because you have one investor.

He’s been onboard since February and the company is growing exponentially.

My gaze narrowed as I tried to recall the travelers he bugged on the Blue Suede Cruise. Who is this investor?

Phase, the young billionaire tech mogul.

Lois’ jaw dropped and she abandoned her ‘pretending not to eavesdrop’ stance. Impressive. He’s notoriously frugal with his investments.

Phase knew a sure thing when he saw it. Dad spread his arms. And I owe it all to you, Becky.

You do?

The only reason I made the deal was because of you. Which is why I’m splitting the royalties with you.

You don’t need to, Dad. Put the money back into your business.

I have been. My accountant recommends I pay dividends for some sort of tax thing.

You have an accountant?

Phase set me up with his guy.

Lois tugged the arm of my sweater and leaned into my ear. Just how much money is Gallagher talking about?

I have no idea. But knowing my father, ten grand was like winning the lottery.

He grinned. I’m glad you came home today. I have a surprise for you… both of you.

Lois straightened. Really?

He grabbed the car keys and twirled them on his finger. What do you say, Becky? Are you up for a drive?

Despite the jet lag from driving halfway across the country, I couldn’t sleep before discovering what Gallagher had up his sleeve.

The sunrise blinded me as we turned onto a side street. Everything about the odd morning was straight out of the Twilight Zone. I knew better than to believe in my father’s crazy inventions, but the growing evidence was difficult to ignore.

I stretched out my legs in the passenger seat of his new old car. Where did you find this, Dad?

An automobile collector gave me a great deal. It’s in mint condition.

I didn’t take you for a Stephen King fan.

Who? His brow furrowed. Oh, yeah. The guy did call it Cujo.

Cujo is the dog. Christine is the car.

He snapped his fingers. That’s it.

Leave it to Gallagher to purchase a 1958 Plymouth Fury in red without knowing the pop-culture significance. Why did you buy this car, Dad? Were they out of the DeLorean?

I always loved the 50s. His hands slid down the wheel. Don’t you like it?

It’s great. But isn’t it a tad pricey?

I have money now, Shortcake. Splurging on my dream ride felt right.

His dream ride he called Cujo.

Lois leaned into the front seat. This isn’t the surprise, is it?

No, no. We’re almost there. He pointed to a sign.

Welcome to Lemon Hollow, population 9,947. My brow furrowed. What’s in Lemon Hollow? Aside from lemons… and hollows.

He smirked. You’ll see.

All sorts of worst-case scenarios ran through my mind but at the top of the list was my annoying little brother. After convincing Mom taking a gap year would better prepare him for college, Matt spent his time off traveling and being an idiot. But at some point, he’d come back to reality and attend college in California with the sole purpose of making me miserable. Had the time finally come?

Dad pulled to a stop in front of a dilapidated farmhouse tucked off the street. Magnificent oak trees framed the landscape but their beauty didn’t distract from the overgrown lawn or the garbage littering the property.

I kicked a soda can. Don’t tell me you bought this dump.

Not yet. Dad grinned. But if all goes right at the auction, who knows?

2

Home Strange Home

The early morning light cast a golden hour glow over the expansive Lemon Hollow property. The mesmerizing backdrop was a stark contrast to the dilapidated house.

A weathered sign sat askew in the driveway and read ‘Sheriff's Sale - Lemon Hollow Farmhouse and Barn’.

Lois followed my gaze. What’s a sheriff’s sale?

A police auction for houses… I think? I snagged a tri-folded flyer from the plastic tablecloth but the removal of the brick weight caused several pamphlets to escape in the wind. Half running, half stumbling, I collected the litter and returned it to the stack. Nobody saw that, right?

Lois ducked her head, aware of the looky-loos glancing our way. You aren’t that lucky.

As I skimmed the description of the property, the voice in my head warned me to think positively, for my dad’s sake. But I couldn’t help but fixate on the concerning terms – fixer-upper, diamond in the rough, blank canvas – every cliché but the kitchen sink. No matter how I looked at it, the Lemon Hollow farmhouse was a total gut. Maybe it looks better on the inside.

It can’t look worse, Lois muttered.

I weaved around the other interested parties and made my way to the front steps. Dad grabbed me by the arm before I could reach for the doorknob. We aren’t permitted to go in, he said.

How are you supposed to buy the place without seeing the interior?

That’s part of the fun.

My brow crinkled. Nothing about that sounded fun to me. What were they hiding within the walls that they didn’t want prospective buyers to see?

It makes for an interesting mystery, I guess. Lois gestured to the specs listed on the flyer. Four beds, two baths, twenty-one hundred square feet.

I jerked my hand away from the splintered door frame. I wonder if they remeasured after the termites finished their meal.

Gallagher’s hazel eyes narrowed and he tilted his head to the right. This place is full of potential. Don’t you see it, Becky?

I mimicked his posture and tried to see the house through his eyes – beyond the chipped paint and warped siding. But in addition to the disrepair, the side of the farmhouse featured four random giant windows. And not just the abnormally large quirky kind. You could drive a tractor through the openings with room to spare. It’s certainly unique.

Lois nodded. That’s one word for it.

Where did you hear about this place, Dad?

He stretched out his tape measure and checked the size of the weirdo windows. Your friend Dr. Eklund. The medical examiner.

His answer surprised me. Since when are you two buddies?

Apparently you neglected to tell anyone about your on-location shoot. We both came looking for you at the apartment.

Why was Eklund looking for me?

Career advice, I imagine. Dad shrugged. The doc received an opportunity to work at the M.E.’s office in Orange County as an assistant coroner or some such.

Why would he leave the Chief M.E. position of L.A. County to work as an assistant? Or was he forced out? I shook away the confusion. I owed Eklund a phone call. That doesn’t explain how you came to know about this property.

The Eklunds and their new baby girl moved to Lemon Hollow to get away from the city and the doc heard about the police auction through the grapevine. It hasn’t yet been publicized to civilians, so we’re in luck. Gallagher spun in a semicircle, made a note of the measurements, and turned back. This place is perfect, don’t you think?

Well…

Glad we’re on the same page. Gallagher’s eyebrows danced. I’m going to scope out the competition and see who the serious bidders are.

Sounds like a plan.

Lois tugged the sleeve of my cardigan. Becky, I’m super confused.

You and me both, Lo-Vo.

Is Gallagher moving to California or is he buying the house for you? And if it’s for you, do I get to live here too? She sucked in a breath through her nose. "Because as awful and tiny as our apartment is, I can’t afford the