Showing results for "The House of the Dead" in Cosy

Whitney Whitaker has scored the perfect piece of real estate: a ramshackle white Colonial at the top of a hill with views of downtown Nashville. What more could a self-taught home-improvement maven and occasional house flipper ask for? Ideally, the property of Whitney's dreams would not have come with a dead body blocking the entrance to the foyer. But Whitney, always quick to take heavy duty matters into her own hands, also happens to be a skilled amateur sleuth. So that helps.

Meet Whitney Whitaker. A hopeless romantic when it comes to real estate, she knows what it takes to find - and flip - the home of one’s dreams. A fixer-upper is like catnip to Whitney: She can’t resist the challenge of turning an eyesore into a priceless work of art. So when one of her clients decides to liquidate a crumbling property, Whitney seizes the opportunity to purchase it for a song. But soon a curious incident of the cat in the night-time leads to a change in tune.

Lilith Jones was a statistical anomaly. Her mother found her face down on the frozen sidewalk by the light of the single streetlamp on Pugsley Avenue, with her neighbor’s scissors stuck in her back. The scissors belonged to her neighbor, and so did all the fingerprints on them. Her neighbor, Pat Perkins, hated Lilith. She hated her because her own husband, her brother, and her daughter all loved Lilith. Lilith was charming, beautiful, smart, and adorable.

Ginger and her fellow Domino Girls pool their funds to buy an old Colonial-style home on the outskirts of town and convert it into a bed and breakfast. The house is rumored to be haunted - which enables them to get the place at a bargain. They name it “Ginger Bread House” banking on Ginger's notoriety as a famous cake baker to bring in the guests. She will provide a daily supply of her freshly-baked cakes to sweeten their stay.

At forty-something, Bob Walklet was about to make a fortune with his IT company. But he'd made the mistake of falling in love with his assistant, twenty-something Sorka Williams. They were crazy about each other, and Bob had told his wife, Sheila - a thirty-something, ex-cop insurance consultant. He wanted a divorce. And there was a prenup. When he was found in his bedroom, stabbed in the heart, her DNA was literally all over him, her prints were on the knife and a neighbor had seen her hurrying from the house at the time of death.