Mean Sisters: A sassy, hilariously funny murder mystery. Lindsay Emory

      ‘Call me Callie,’ she said with a dimpled smile. It was official. I had a girl crush.

      The academic director was studious, the social activity director was bubbly and the pledge trainer was a lesbian. Which was perfectly fine. Delta Betas loved all their sisters, even if that sister loved other sisters. I arranged times to meet with each of them, to understand what was going on in the chapter and address any of their substantive concerns. I was proud when no one seemed to have any issues with the change of advisors. They all stood up fairly quickly to leave, seeming to have everything under control.

      Aubrey St. John stayed behind, though, which was both sweet and conscientious. By this point, I admit I was feeling a little out of my depth. There was a lot to do, in a very short amount time.

      ‘Ms Blythe,’ she started to say.

      I interrupted her. ‘Call me Margot, please,’ I insisted. ‘After all, we’re sisters.’

      Aubrey smiled back. While she didn’t have dimples, she was an adorable girl. Her hair was curled in perfect blond waves, her makeup expertly applied just like a YouTube guru. She was a testament to Delta Beta womanhood. ‘I didn’t want to ask in front of the other girls,’ she said, her words tentative, ‘but … what’s happening with Liza?’

      I reached over and patted Aubrey’s hand. Concern was etched all over her face. ‘The police will be contacting her family soon.’

      ‘She doesn’t have a family,’ Aubrey said. ‘Not really. Her parents died in a freak accident when she was in college. She told me once, over …’ A guilty look flashed across Aubrey’s face. ‘Drinks,’ she finished weakly. I patted her hand again. Aubrey didn’t need to feel guilty confessing to underage drinking. Not with me. But then I remembered I was the Chapter Advisor now. Maybe I should say something about it. I quickly dismissed that thought. This was a time for comfort, not chastisement. I made a mental note to chastise later.

      ‘Does – did – she have any brothers or sisters?’

      Aubrey shook her head. ‘That’s the thing. She lost her brother in Iraq. And her only sisters were Debs.’

      That shot a single arrow through my heart. The Delta Beta sorority was all Liza McCarthy had in the world and we were there for her, holding her hand at the bitter end, reciting our sacred words in unison. I could only hope for such a death.

      ‘I’ll find out,’ I promised Aubrey. ‘We’ll take care of Liza.’

      Aubrey used the back of her hand to wipe at her cheeks. ‘I guess I need to show you your new office.’

       CHAPTER SEVEN

      I was orienting myself in the Chapter Advisor’s office when there was a knock at the door. Without waiting for me to say anything, the door opened and in walked a cute policeman who, inconceivably, didn’t seem to like me much.

      ‘What are you doing back here?’ I asked.

      ‘I came to see you.’ The flat line of his mouth showed that he wasn’t that excited about it. Which hurt the ego a little, if I’m telling the truth.

      I glanced at the door in irritation. ‘Men aren’t allowed back here.’

      ‘A man showed me back here.’

      I rolled my eyes. I was so right when I talked to Amanda. Hatfield didn’t understand sororities at all.

      ‘That’s the house brother.’ Hatfield still didn’t look like he understood. ‘He’s a house brother,’ I repeated, a little slower this time to see if that worked.

      ‘I know what a house brother is,’ he said irritably. ‘I just think it’s a stupid name for someone you hire to wash dishes.’

      I so wasn’t getting into this conversation. Delta Betas were expected to exhibit the highest standards of housekeeping. And who we hired to help us with the dishes was our business.

      ‘Can I help you with something?’ I asked, pointedly.

      Hatfield came into the office and shut the door behind him. He leaned against a bookshelf and crossed his arms. I tried not to notice how that stretched his police department polo shirt across a nicely built chest and his firm upper arms. He had a whole young Matthew McConaughey meets John Wayne vibe going on, all tanned, laconic and suspicious.

      ‘How well did you know Liza McCarthy?’

      ‘I didn’t, really,’ I admitted. ‘I just met her yesterday morning when I came into town.’

      Hatfield looked like he was trying to decide something. ‘They don’t have anyone to release the body to,’ he finally said.

      I nodded. ‘She had no family. They’ve all passed.’

      His eyes narrowed on me. ‘I thought you didn’t know her.’

      ‘One, I learned that from a sister here. Two, I don’t appreciate the implication that I am dishonest. Debs are always honest.’ It was in our creed.

      But I couldn’t waste time on being sassy with a police officer. He might throw me in the clink again. Accidentally. And I had promised Aubrey that we were going to be there for the departed Chapter Advisor. ‘So what’s going to happen to Liza?’

      ‘The coroner’s holding the body for further tests. Since she doesn’t have family …’

      I cut him off right there. ‘She does have family. Her Delta Beta …’

      Hatfield rolled his eyes. ‘Cut that out already.’

      ‘Excuse me?’ As much as I was trying to avoid the back of a police car, I couldn’t let this slide.

      ‘Stop acting all high and mighty. You and I both know this sorority stuff is a crock of bull.’

      ‘I do not know that,’ I assured him, affecting the posture of someone most offended.

      He reared his head back, studying me for a long moment. ‘You don’t remember me, do you?’

      Taken aback, I searched his face while I searched my memory. A long, tall drink of water with a bad attitude against sororities seems like someone I’d definitely remember. ‘No.’ I tried to be polite. ‘Should I?’ Something occurred to me. Hatfield, Hatfield … ‘What’s your first name?’

      ‘Ty.’

      Ty Hatfield. I rolled the name around in my head for a moment, but here’s the thing about me. I am really good with names for about a month or two. After that, my brain has to release that information because someone like me, travelling as I do, constantly meeting new people? There’s only room for eighty names in my head at any given time. A hundred, max. And maybe the name Ty Hatfield rang a bell. But maybe it sounded like a thousand other names I’d learned in the last six years.

      ‘When did we meet?’ I asked, tentatively, since he didn’t look like we’d been close.

      ‘Doesn’t matter,’ he spat out. He reached for the door handle. Oh no he didn’t. He didn’t get to walk in here, be both suspicious and annoying and then walk out.

      ‘Why did you come over here?’ I had the distinct feeling he hadn’t told me everything yet. ‘And what did you mean by further tests?’

      Maybe I wasn’t good with names. But I was pretty damn good with remembering details about my sisters.

      Ty Hatfield looked at me long and hard. Under other circumstances, with those baby blues, it was something I could get used to. Right now, I felt like he was about to bring out the handcuffs. And not in the good way. ‘There’s been some inconsistencies with the preliminary report on Ms McCarthy’s death.’

      ‘Like what?’

      ‘Like