Prologue

As I stood and watched the flames ignite, I could hear the crackling of the plastic seat covers inside and the sizzling of the melting countertops. It felt warm as the flames started to burst skyward and reached the trees. I stood there long enough to see the curtains go up, and walked out to my car. I thought to myself, “I will teach those meddling Carters—deciding after all these years to come and claim their crummy cabin. Imagine them thinking they could tear down this old place and build a fancy house, and not realize they were taking me out of a home and hadn’t bothered to ask what I was going to do. I would take care of them though; I would burn it to the ground, and then they wouldn’t get any of my stuff or know I was ever there. They would wonder what had happened and blame some foolish teenagers. Of course, if they had planned to live there while adding on, then too bad. People didn’t seem to care about others any more. I know it was that crazy Carrie. She had taken me there so many years before, but now she didn’t care if I existed. Ben surely didn’t care one way or the other, but Carrie would want justice for her old home place. What a joke.”

I drove away from the property and into town. I would have breakfast at that nice diner and then make my way out of town and out to the lake. Maybe, I would pick out a boat to start hanging out on at the Marina. Rick would never know it, and it would be nice for the winter. Nice fantasy. I would love to see the look on that woman’s face when she came into town only to find her precious cabin was gone. No one would suspect me since I hadn’t been there in so long.

Parker wouldn’t even know what to say, he would never guess it was me. He was just like Carrie, except in a male figure. Ben was blusterier. How could they ride into town and think we wouldn’t notice? How did they expect us to have any privacy if they were neighbors? I didn’t like it one bit, but they didn’t care. They never bothered to ask us if we wanted them here. I certainly didn’t.

Chapter 1

I was looking forward to having dinner at the club with Ben and Carrie Carter. Ben and Sam had been friends for years in Charleston, and Ben had been one of the lawyers at the practice that Sam had built. The men were meeting early today to play golf, and Carrie was driving up later from Charleston to meet us. She was coming to the house to get ready for dinner, and she and I would drive over at six to meet the guys. She could have just gone to the club and changed, but I thought it would be nice to have a glass of wine together. I felt sure that Ben and Sam would have a cocktail in the nineteenth hole before we arrived. The men had brought clothes to change into after their game and showers.

It is still January, but we are so far south that it is pleasant in the winter months, and most come here to get away from the wintry weather up north. The country club was fully booked for dinner, and while we might have to wait a short while for our reservation, I thought a drink before dinner would be nice for our small group, maybe sitting on the large porch in front of the dining room.

My name is Bela Sanders. People call me Dr. B, Mrs. Sanders, Ms. B or Bela. I am a licensed social worker, and I have a PhD in Human Services. I am a professor of counseling skills at Lewis T. Maddocks School of the Humanities, LTM, as we call it. LTM is a prestigious institution of higher learning specializing in Human Services skill-building for masters and doctoral candidates. It is a well-respected leader in higher education and has taught some of the most renowned therapists in the country.

I live with my husband of twenty-six years, Sam. He is a wonderful person and a retired psychologist. He now plays golf, reads, cares for our dogs, and does his best to keep me out of trouble, not an easy task because my most loved hobby is solving mysteries. He says I’m just nosy; I like to think that I need to know the truth in most matters.

Sam and I have two children together, and he has three from a previous marriage. His older children don’t live close, but come to visit when they can. They are all grown and busy with families of their own and careers. Our two children are also now both grown and married. We had two weddings last year, and our son Jake and his wife Lisa are expecting a baby in June. I’m excited, but I’m trying to be patient. They have moved back here to the lake, so we see them several times a week. Our daughter Kayla and her husband Dom live in Chicago. His parents live here also, and I am partners with my son-in-law’s sister Susan, running Warehouses 1 & 2, which we have turned into a community center and a children’s after-school and summer programs facility. Our little community is called Sun Valley. We are located on Lake Marian in South Carolina. We love living on the lake and have a great climate in fall, winter, and spring. Summer, however, is the devils’ playground, and it is extremely hot and humid from June through the middle of September. Even with the lake, we have a pool, so we don’t melt.

It's Not Polite is the third novel in the 'Bela Saunders Mystery' series by BB Short, following 'It's not polite to Kill People' and 'It's not polite to Stash the Cash'