What To Do About Wednesday Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Page Turners Mysteries

  Dedication

  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

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Copyright

  Thanks for choosing to read the Page Turners Mysteries! These books are a mix of romantic comedy and cozy mysteries and I hope you love them! If you do enjoy them, please consider leaving a review.

  ***

  And be sure to check out all the adventures in the Page Turners series:

  Another Saturday Night and I Ain’t Got No Body: Book 1

  Easy Like Sunday Mourning: Book 2

  Just Another Maniac Monday: Book 3

  Tangled Up In Tuesday: Book 4

  What To Do About Wednesday: Book 5

  A Halloween Hookup: Book 6 – A Holiday Novella

  A Cowboy for Christmas: Book 7 – A Holiday Novella

  Be the first to find out when the newest Page Turners Novel is releasing and hear all the latest news and updates happening with the Page Turners book club by signing up for the Jennie Marts newsletter at: Jenniemarts.com

  My biggest thanks goes out to my readers! Thanks for loving my stories and my characters. I would love to invite you to join my street team, Jennie’s Page Turners where you can become an honorary member of the Page Turners Book Club!

  This book is dedicated to

  Lee Cumba

  My mom and mystery mastermind plotting partner

  Thank you for your never-ending support

  And for always believing in me and my dreams

  Brittle leaves crunched under Piper Denton’s feet as she practically danced up the stairs to her new apartment. Which went to show the importance of the moment, because Piper didn’t do much dancing. She was more of a side-to-side swayer with an occasional awkward clap thrown in, usually right after the beat that called for one.

  But today was different. Today was the start of everything.

  And nothing was going to get her down. Even the weight of her backpack, also new, purchased the day before with a week’s worth of tips, didn’t bother her. The heaviness of the textbooks served as a symbol of her first day of college—and her newfound sense of freedom. Freedom to finally live her own life, just the way she wanted it.

  She realized she was smiling, her face unaccustomed to the expression but trying it out like a woman would test a new hairstyle or fashion choice. Thinking of fashion, she wished again she would’ve grabbed her favorite blue sweater before leaving the apartment as a brisk breeze sent a shiver over her bare arms.

  The sweater had been Drew’s favorite too. He’d always said it brought out the blue in her eyes. Her uncommon smile fell, and a different kind of shiver ran through her at the thought of Drew, followed by a stab of pain and the sensation of a giant fist tightly squeezing her heart.

  Stupid boys.

  The scent of garlic wafted through the air as she pushed through the door and pushed down the heartache caused by the boy who had recently left her behind as he’d headed to a university halfway across the state.

  They’d planned to attend the same school, but Piper hadn’t quite made the cut, so she was stuck in town going to the local community college. But it was still college. And she was still out on her own for the first time. And that’s what really mattered.

  Who cared about Drew? Stuff. Stuff. So what if he was the first boy she’d fallen in love with? Stuff. Stuff. So what if he’d broken her heart?

  She pushed the feelings down, driving them deeper like a camper crams a sleeping bag into a stuff sack. She was great at burying her feelings—had been doing it for years.

  Letting out her breath, she put her high school boyfriend behind her and focused on the future ahead of her. Focused on the thing she’d always wanted—to live a normal life, one she was in control of. One that didn’t depend on anyone else or have anything to do with her crazy mother.

  She’d taken the first step to that control weeks before when she’d enrolled in college, then moved out of her aunt’s house and into an apartment with another student.

  She didn’t have much to take with her, but that didn’t matter either. She was finally making her own choices, her own decisions, and doing things her own way.

  Her new home was only a few blocks from campus, on the ground floor of an old Victorian that had been converted into two furnished apartments. Although calling them furnished was a bit of stretch, but each bedroom did have a bed, a dresser, and a wobbly nightstand. And the main room had a lumpy broken-in sofa as well as a scarred kitchen table and four mismatched chairs. All the furniture appeared to be garage sale stock, but it worked. And it was better than what she’d had—which was nothing.

  A furrow creased her brow as she squinted at the apartment door. It stood slightly ajar, as if someone had walked out and not gotten it pulled tightly behind them. She’d have to talk to her roommate about that.

  That and leaving her makeup all over the bathroom counter. Piper didn’t even know what half of that stuff was for. She could handle the seventeen bottles of hair product in the shower and all the garlic she used in her cooking—she could stock up on vanilla-scented candles, but Piper was nuts about closing and locking the door.

  She’d watched way too many movies and read too many stories about college co-eds who had been assaulted simply due to the ease of a circumstance. That’s why she’d never taken up jogging—too easy for a would-be rapist to snatch her from a wooded path. Well, and the fact that she hated running.

  Maybe she and Brittany needed to set some ground rules—come up with some roommate guidelines.

  Wow—that certainly sounded like a responsible, mature plan of action—maybe she was getting the hang of this adulting thing after all.

  Piper pushed through the door, and her breath caught in her throat.

  Oh no!

  Her heart stopped as her eyes flicked across the room, taking in all the details at once.

  The stark white of the filmy gauze curtain fluttering at the window, the shattered bits of the blue plate—one of the set her Aunt Cassie had given her—and the scattered strands of spaghetti sprayed across the floor. A crust of garlic bread leaned against the kitchen chair next to a lone meatball that must have rolled across the hardwood.

  And the sight of her new roommate sprawled across the floor, a tan plastic bag wrapped around her head.

  Her mouth went dry as she stared at Brittany, not quite able to comprehend what she was seeing.

  The girl’s body was splayed across the floor, her arms loose at her side. Piper noted several red scratches down her throat and the awkward way her leg jutted out to the side, her skirt flipped up, exposing the top of her thigh. She wore an odd-colored pair of green tights that didn’t quite match the green in her shirt. A small tear ran up the leg of her tights. She would hate that.

  Piper hadn’t known her long, but she knew Brittany well enough to know she wouldn’t leave the apartment without changing those tights. Plus, they didn’t really match that outfit.

  Her cardigan fell open at her throat, a jagged piece of the collar torn and missing, and
the odd shade of the tights clashed with the teal blue of the sweater. Piper’s sweater. No wonder she couldn’t find it this morning. Brittany must have worn it to class.

  What the hell was wrong with her?

  Why was she even thinking about this girl’s outfit? Why was she thinking about her sweater and her odd, ugly tights? Nobody was going to care—least of all Brittany.

  But it bugged Piper. That small tear, the tiniest of pale leg showing through the jagged lines of ripped nylon.

  A large red stain covered the girl’s chest, and crimson splotches dotted the floor around her body.

  Piper shook her head, the slightest movement, just enough to try to shake the image and convince herself she was imagining the gruesome scene.

  One of Brittany’s shoes was missing and a dark smudge marred her ankle.

  Piper blinked. She didn’t understand. But she knew she should be doing something—reacting in some fashion. She couldn’t just stand there.

  Do something! Help her!

  Her paralysis broke, and she dropped her backpack. It hit the floor with a resounding thud as she ran toward Brittany, dropping to her knees at her side.

  Her hands were shaking as she pushed up the plastic bag and held her fingers to Brittany’s throat, desperately trying to feel a pulse.

  There was nothing.

  Her skin was cold, and she didn’t appear to be breathing.

  Tearing the bag from her head, Piper let out a strangled scream as her roommate’s eyes, red and bloodshot, stared vacantly into hers.

  Rearing back, she pushed herself away from the girl, crying out again as her fingers touched the red sticky substance.

  Bile rose in her throat, and she turned her head and vomited across the hardwood floor.

  Get help! her brain screamed at her.

  She tried to pull her phone from her pocket, but her fingers couldn’t seem to work, and it hit the floor with a clatter. She grabbed for it before it slid into the mess.

  Her hands were shaking so badly she could barely operate the phone, but she finally got the three numbers pressed and held the phone to her ear.

  “911 Operator. What is your emergency?”

  “M-my roommate. I think she’s dead.” She wiped the back of her hand against her mouth, her stomach threatening to roil again.

  “Can you tell me where you are?”

  “I’m at home. In our apartment.” She gave the operator her address. “Can you send someone, please?”

  The operator repeated the information and verified Piper’s name and phone number. “I’ve already sent paramedics to your address. Can you tell me your roommate’s name and how old she is?”

  “Um. I don’t know exactly. I think eighteen, like me. And her name is Brittany. Brittany Burke.”

  “Is Brittany conscious, or does she appear to be breathing?”

  “No, she’s not conscious. I tried to find a pulse, but I couldn’t. She’s not breathing either. She’s just staring me, and her eyes are all bloodshot, and her mouth is kind of purple like there’s a bruise around it. I just came home and found her lying on the floor, and she had a plastic bag wrapped around her head.”

  “Is she bleeding?”

  Piper glanced down at the red substance on her hand. It had started to dry, and she could see now that it wasn’t blood. It was spaghetti sauce. “No. I don’t think so.” Her shoulders slumped forward, and she tried not to cry. “Who would do this? Why would anyone want to hurt Brittany?”

  “Okay, hold on, Piper. The paramedics are almost there. Is anyone in the apartment with you?” the operator asked. “If someone did this to her, do you think the assailant is still there?”

  Oh gosh. She hadn’t even thought of that.

  Her eyes darted around the room, her heart slamming against her chest.

  What if the killer were still in the apartment with her?

  She backpedaled across the room, crying out as her hand slipped in the spilled spaghetti sauce. How could she have mistaken the tomato sauce for blood?

  Wiping her hand on her jeans, she left a smear of sauce streaked across the side of her thigh as she scrambled to her feet and ran from the apartment.

  She felt terrible for leaving Brittany in there by herself. But not much worse could happen to her now.

  Pushing through the front door, she saw the fire truck pull up to the front of the house, and she waved them through the door, pointing to her apartment. “She’s in there.”

  She told the operator the fireman had arrived and disconnected the call, then shoved the phone in her pocket and hugged her arms around her middle.

  A police car pulled up, its tires screeching as it braked to a halt, and a tall familiar policeman stepped from the car.

  “Mac!” Piper yelled, launching herself off the steps and into the arms of the policeman.

  The man hugged her to him then pulled back and studied her face. “You okay?”

  She nodded, not yet trusting her voice.

  She’d met the policeman, Officer Mac McCarthy, earlier that summer when her book club had gotten involved in the mysterious disappearance of a neighbor. Since then, Mac had become a friend to all of them, and more than a friend to Zoey, the newest member of the book club.

  “I heard your name on the scanner, and I was only a few blocks away,” he explained. “I already called Cassie. She’s on her way.”

  “Thank you,” she whispered. The thought of her aunt arriving and taking charge had her knees buckling with relief.

  Mac grabbed her before she fell. He guided her to the porch and eased her down on the front step. “Can you tell me what happened?”

  She relayed the events of the last ten minutes.

  “Do you have any idea who might want to hurt this girl?”

  “No. Everyone liked her.”

  Even Piper. And she didn’t often warm up to people quickly. Especially people like Brittany.

  She was one of the popular girls—the kind who always knew what fashions were in and whose hair always looked great. One of those girls who was pretty without even trying.

  Brittany. Even her name was cool.

  Piper had been so excited to find a roommate, she wouldn’t have cared if she were a neat-freak, a hoarder, a cheerleader, or an introverted computer geek. But Brittany had been none of those.

  She’d been nice and sweet, beautiful and popular. She’d had tons of friends—the opposite of Piper, who considered herself one cozy Snuggie shy of being a hermit. But the two girls had got along well—so far.

  Everyone had loved Brittany.

  Well, apparently not everyone.

  Someone hadn’t liked her at all.

  But Piper had. They’d really started to get to know each other, had even shared a few stories over a cheap pepperoni pizza the night before.

  Piper had even started to imagine they could become friends.

  Even though the only things they’d seemed to have in common were that they both had blond hair, an affinity for pizza, and were evidently about the same build. Or so Brittany had seemed to think when she’d excitedly told Piper they could share clothes. Which was how her favorite sweater must have ended up on the dead girl’s shoulders.

  A shudder ran through her.

  Mac took off his jacket and draped it around her petite shoulders.

  She clutched the lapels and pulled it around her, pulling her knees up and resting her forehead on them.

  How could this have happened?

  Her day had been going so well. Her life had been going so well.

  Other than that whole thing with her boyfriend breaking up with her.

  But she’d moved out and had a place of her own.

  What would happen to her now?

  Ugh. She was a terrible person.

  She should be thinking about what was going to happen to this girl, how her friends were going to feel, how devastated her parents were going to be. But all she could think about was how the hell she was going to find another roommate
to help her pay the rent.

  A moment ago, she’d been so happy, so excited, she was adulting.

  Now all she could think was ‘mommy.’

  Well, not really ‘mommy’, because she couldn’t count on her mom for anything—except to not be there when she needed her.

  Why did Brittany have to die?

  Why did she have to ruin Piper’s first day of college?

  Clasping her hand over her mouth, she silently took back her words. Even though she hadn’t spoken them out loud, she’d still thought them. They were still out there, hanging in the air, like a load of damp laundry on a cloudy day.

  Pushing back her anger at this stupid girl for dying on her and wrecking her first days of college, she slumped against the steps, waiting for her aunt, and made a mental note to talk to her therapist about these horrible feelings.

  Then made another mental note to actually get a therapist.

  A sensible blue minivan pulled up, and she lifted her head. Relief flooded through her as she saw her aunt leap from the car and race toward her.

  The van doors slammed as two other women climbed out and hurried up the sidewalk.

  The cavalry had arrived.

  The cavalry—otherwise known as the Pleasant Valley Page Turners—was her aunt’s book club who had adopted Piper as a new member earlier that spring.

  ‘Book club’ was a loose term for a tight-knit group of women who cared more about each other and spending time together than they did about their monthly book choice. They met every Wednesday, and the women had taken Piper under their collective wing and become the closest thing to a family she had.

  Sunny and Maggie had known her aunt since college, and Edna was Sunny’s neighbor.

  Even though Edna Allen was in her early eighties, she had the spunk and spirit, not to mention the dirty mind, of someone much younger. She kept the women on their toes, frequently in stitches, and was more often than not the one who came up with the crazy hare-brained schemes which usually landed the group in hot water.

  Each woman brought something different to the table, and Piper loved them all.