“What?”
“I don’t know if I’ll ever warm up to the name—Purple Pickle.”
A. K. laughed. “You will when the money starts rolling in.”
There was a knock followed by a familiar voice. “Is it okay to come in?”
“Of course,” Susan said, crossing the shop and unlocking the door. Wesley and his partner, Dylan Powell, shuffled past. Seeing Wesley brought a smile to her lips. “I didn’t hear you drive up.”
“We parked next door. Since the lights were on in the costume shop, I figured that’s where I’d find you.”
Wesley had worked all day at the landing, interviewing everyone. From the look on his face, things weren’t going so well. His hazel eyes lacked their usual sparkle, and the corners of his mouth tugged at his smile.
In the shadows of her mind, Susan heard a bell toll. “They found her, didn’t they?”
Wisps of sandy hair fell across Wesley’s brow as he nodded. “The flotilla recovered what we believe to be Lorraine’s remains, but we’ll have to wait for dental confirmation.”
A. K. gave Susan a quick glance. When she opened her mouth to say something, Susan shook her head, hoping A. K. wouldn’t mention her vision. Her friend apparently got the message. She said nothing and eased down onto a crate.
“It doesn’t seem right,” Susan said. “After years apart, Myrtle’s sister finally comes home, and a week later, she’s dead.”
“Not just dead, murdered. I imagine Myrtle will think about her sister being pulled from that river for a long time,” Wesley said.
Susan’s eyes widened. “Does she know? Is anyone with her?”
Wesley held up his hand as if to slow Susan’s barrage of questions. “We just left Myrtle’s place. The chief delayed talking to the press at the landing so I could tell her before the media blasted the news over the radio and TV. You wouldn’t believe the number of reporters at the landing. We couldn’t turn around without one of them in our faces. Until we know for sure the body is Lorraine’s, all I could tell Myrtle was that the victim was a female, and she should be prepared for the worst. I was glad a few of her friends were with her.”
Wesley didn’t speculate as to a cause of death, and it wasn’t like him to avoid eye contact.
“What are you not telling us?” Susan asked.
His voice lowered, almost to a mumble. “I don’t know how she died. I just hope she didn’t suffer. We…we only recovered a head.”
A. K. sprang to her feet and clutched her arms. “Ew! Sounds like something out of a horror movie.”
“You got that right,” Dylan said. “I’ve seen a lot of gruesome sights, and this ranks right up there.” He rubbed the sides of his neck with both hands. “We’re looking at a real sicko.”
“This is Palmetto. Nothing like that is supposed to happen here,” A. K. said.
“But it did,” Wesley said. “Things have changed, especially after Katrina. The North Shore has seen a great influx of people.” He stared at A.K, but it seemed his mind was elsewhere. “Since we found the remains downstream from where Susan hooked the scarf, my guess is Lorraine met her fate aboard the killer’s boat and under cover of darkness. I doubt anyone saw or heard anything on the river, so I’m going to concentrate on the Rusty Nail. Maybe someone will remember seeing her, and if she was with anyone. Even better if they can put them on a boat.”
“It’s hard to believe,” Susan said. “Lorraine must not have suspected anything. She seemed so happy to be home. I can see her now with her light brown hair and amber eyes. More than anything, she so loved that scarf Myrtle bought her.” Susan paused. “How could anyone butcher another person?” The thought chilled her to the bone. “I hope she was dead long before…before…” She didn’t finish her sentence. Her lips quivered as she stared at Wesley. “You have to catch whoever did this.”
“I’d like nothing better.” Muscles around his mouth twitched as he steeled his face in defiance. “With so many people in and out of the landing, someone must have seen her. Nothing goes unnoticed in Palmetto.”
“That’s for sure,” A. K. said.
“I just hope my witness hasn’t left town.”
Wesley’s voice brought Susan back to the present. “What about Lorraine’s car?” she asked. “Is it still at the landing?”
“It’s been impounded, and so far, the crime lab hasn’t turned up anything.”
Susan unhooked her robe and laid it across the counter. All she could think about was Myrtle and how devastated she must be. “I should go see Myrtle. Maybe there’s something I can do.”
“I was hoping you would,” Wesley said. “It’s always difficult to interview anyone after such a tragedy, but it’s important that we do. I got nowhere with her. Since you two have become friends, you might put her more at ease. She and Lorraine must have talked about things. Maybe Myrtle will recall something that’ll help us. We’re going to need all the leads we can get.”
A. K. cleared her throat and frowned at Susan. “I thought you weren’t going to get involved.”
“I’m not, but Myrtle needs support…and answers. It’s the least I can do.”
A. K. sighed.
Susan didn’t have to be psychic to read A. K.’s thoughts—Here we go again.
Chapter 2
Myrtle’s friends were leaving when Susan arrived. She recognized a few of them as Myrtle’s sign-carrying protestors, bent on shutting down the Bawdy Boutique. Thank goodness that was over and done with. Standing in the doorway, Myrtle reached out to her with a trembling hand and took Susan’s arm. “I’m so glad you came.”
Susan’s former nemesis appeared frail and somewhat smaller than the feisty woman who a few months ago had been determined to send Susan and her boutique packing. The news of Lorraine’s death had obviously devastated Myrtle. There was no fire in her eyes, no color in her cheeks. She was just a shadow of herself.
“Come, dear. Let’s sit on the sofa,” Myrtle said.
“I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine what you’re going through.”
It was obvious Myrtle was in no condition to be questioned. She just needed someone to be with her, to console her. Susan did the best she could and stayed a long time. Mostly, she sat in silence, listening to Myrtle reminisce about her childhood years with Lorraine. Susan couldn’t help but think about her brother, Edward, and prayed she’d never have to face such a tragedy.
Later in the evening, Myrtle patted Susan’s hand and looked up with watery eyes. “When the chief finishes his dragging operation, I’m going to bury my sister’s remains in the family plot. The funeral will be closed, except for a few close friends. I hope you’ll attend.”
“Of course I’ll be there, and if I can do anything in the meantime, I’m as close as the phone.”
A teary-eyed Susan drove to her Pine Crest apartment. Once inside, she locked the door, leaned against it, and said a little prayer for Myrtle.
Marmalade wobbled down the hall and greeted her with a squeaky meow, the feline’s way of welcoming her. Susan dropped her purse on the sofa and picked up the cat. “How’s my baby?” she said, hugging the cat to her and stroking the calico’s fur. When the doorbell rang, the cat’s back claws dug into Susan’s ribs as she sprang from her arms and bolted down the hall. In a flash, Marmalade scooted out of sight.
“Talk about a coward,” Susan called after the animal, while rubbing her ribs. “You know, I thought about getting a dog.”
Looking through the peephole, she spied Wesley, standing under the entrance light. “Come in,” she said, opening the door. “Are you through for the evening?”
“Unless something else happens. The dragging operation is set to start again at sunrise. I want to be there early to meet any boaters.”
“How much longer will they search?”
“At least a few more days, or until they reach the Gulf. So, how did it go with Myrtle?”
“I can’t help you there. Tonight was not the time for questions.”
&nb
sp; “I figured as much, but you never know how people will react.”
Wesley’s cheeks were sunburned from being on the water. Even in March one couldn’t escape the damaging rays, not to mention the glare off the water or the wind. Susan placed a light kiss on his nose and fingered the stubble that shadowed his chin and jaw. She liked his rugged appearance. With broad shoulders and a muscular body, he epitomized the strong, outdoor type, ready to face anything.
“You can do better than that,” he said, capturing her lips and kissing her hard and long.
When their kiss ended, she continued to hold him close. “I’ve missed you.”
He peeled her arms from around his neck. Smiling, she tapped a finger against his lips. “I was just about to grab a bite to eat. Care to join me?”
“Sure.” He took off his windbreaker and laid it across a chair.
While she prepared sandwiches, she could feel him staring at her. “Do you like what you see?”
“Every inch.” He grunted a laugh. “I was hoping we’d have more time together after you set up shop in Palmetto, but with the attempted murder with Jack and now Lorraine’s murder, we can’t seem to catch a break.”
Susan served the sandwiches. When she poured the tea, he caught her hand. “How do you do it?”
“What?”
“Always look like a million dollars.” His hand caressed her arm. “All you have to do is bat those big, brown eyes at me, and I’m a goner.”
In the next instant, he was standing, and she was in his arms. His manly scent triggered a warm, tingling feeling. When his hard body pressed against hers, she melted against him. The sandwiches could wait. Their time together was scarce, and she wasn’t about to let this opportunity get away.
Clothes dropped like a sudden shower, and he carried her down the hall. He was her man, the only man she had ever wanted. Lost in his arms, she shut out the world and all its problems. They shared an intimacy too long denied them.
Later, as both drew breaths of contentment, Wesley propped up on one elbow. “I could go for that sandwich now.”
She gave him a gentle push. “I’ll be right behind you.”
By the time Susan threw on a pair of jeans and a tee shirt, Wesley had already downed his sandwich and was making another. Shirtless, and wearing unbelted Khaki pants, he looked too good to resist. She eased beside him and traced the sprinkling of hair that crept upwards from his waist to his chest.
When he turned and drew her to him, she whispered in his ear. “If I don’t eat something, I’m going to faint.”
He stepped back and pulled a chair from the table. “Well, we don’t want that.”
Susan took a few bites and drank some tea. “Where do you go next with the investigation?”
“Huh, you name it. We’ve barely scratched the surface. Until we can identify the mystery man or the boat, we’re in limbo. I’m going to check with every boat owner at the marina and keep questioning the customers at the Rusty Nail.”
“You know what bugs me? According to Myrtle, Lorraine had a good-paying job as a casino hostess in Biloxi. Why would she give it up to come back to Palmetto? What could this little town offer her?”
“I thought about that. Because she did come home makes me think someone from Palmetto might have killed her. What we need is a motive. Any ideas?”
Susan shrugged. “It’s hard to picture anyone from here committing such a heinous act. I’d just be guessing. Like you said earlier, nothing goes unnoticed in Palmetto. Whatever the reason, it’s bound to surface.”
Wesley pushed up from the table. “I hate to eat and run, but I really need to get some shuteye.”
“I could use some z’s myself. All the work we did preparing for the Purple Pickle’s grand opening has left me exhausted.”
“I forgot to ask. How’d it go?”
She locked arms with him as they walked into the front room. “It couldn’t have been better.” She paused before opening the door. “For Myrtle’s sake, I hope they find what’s left of Lorraine.”
“Me too. If they recover anything else, I’ll let you know, but chances are, you’ll hear about it as soon as I do. Damn press.”
The following morning, Susan awoke to rain, gusty torrents that slapped against the window. She didn’t envy Wesley having to spend the day on the river in such miserable conditions. Pushing back the cover, she climbed out of the warm bed. Marmalade groaned her displeasure at being disturbed and curled into a ball on top of the comforter.
Susan ruffled the animal’s fur. “If there’s such a thing as reincarnation, I want to come back as a cat.”
Bleary eyed, Susan shuffled to the bathroom, lit a Hawaiian bamboo aromatherapy candle, and slid into a warm bath. “Just five minutes,” she said in a voice still gravelly from sleep. Lately, she had little time to indulge herself. She eased further down into the tub and breathed in the soothing scent of passion fruit. Her movement sent ripples across the surface of the water, ripples that reminded her of the river…the cold, unforgiving river that held the remains of Lorraine.
Susan sat up with a jerk, flipped the lever to drain the tub and grabbed a towel. Stepping out of the tub to dry off, she made sure to step on the bath rug. It wouldn’t do to slip again on a wet tile and hit her head.
After drying off, she opened her closet. No high heels today. Instead, she chose a pair of low-cut suede boots, navy slacks, and a light-blue turtleneck sweater. To glamorize the outfit, she slipped two serpentine necklaces over her head and fastened a pair of hoops into her pierced ears. A plain gold bracelet and a topaz dinner ring completed the outfit. As owner of the Bawdy Boutique, she wanted always to look chic.
On her way to work, Susan stopped by Tilly’s Diner. Tonya, her high school classmate and current owner, served a mean omelet, and she also brewed a great cup of joe. Pulling into the parking lot, she realized she wasn’t the only one to have that idea, especially on such a dreary morning. The diner was packed, and she was lucky to find a vacant table.
“So, what’ll it be?” Tonya asked with her pad and pencil ready for the order.
“Your Mexican omelet and a cup of coffee, please.”
“It’ll be about ten minutes,” she said looking around at the full house. Then she leaned closer to Susan. “I know you and Wesley are tight. Did he have any news on Lorraine, other than the partial recovery?”
Susan shook her head. “They’re still searching. Maybe we’ll hear something today.”
“Excuse me, I couldn’t help but hear what you ordered,” a deep voice said. “I’ll have the same.”
Tonya scribbled his order. “Looks like you have company, Susan.”
She glanced up to see her favorite surgeon. “Jack, what a surprise.”
He wore a heavy five-o’clock shadow, and it seemed he was straining to keep his baby blues open. “I had back-to-back surgeries last night and am just heading home. Can’t wait to crash.” He stretched his shoulders and finger-combed his dark hair from his forehead. “You don’t mind if I join you, do you?”
“Of course not.”
He dropped his newspaper on the table and tapped the headlines. “It’s terrible about Myrtle’s sister. I talked to A. K. last night, and she told me about your premonition.”
“Oh?” Susan wished A. K. hadn’t, even though it wouldn’t come as a shock to Jack. He, of all people, understood. His gaze lingered on her face as if reading her mind.
“Hey, if anyone would believe you, it’d be me. I shrugged you off once, but never again. I hate to think what might have happened if you hadn’t uncovered those who wanted to see me dead. Thanks for being persistent.” He stared hard at her and frowned. “I am surprised you’re still having visions, though. I thought as your injury healed, they might fade. How do you feel about having that ability?”
“If I could stop it, I would.”
“Why? You’ve already proven you can use what you see to save lives.”
“Yeah, but what do I do about the nightmares, the
anxiety that follows each episode?”
“If you want, I can give you a prescription to help you sleep.”
“If they get any worse, I might take you up on that.”
Tonya brought their breakfast, and the conversation changed to talk about the hospital and the new costume shop. Before long, they had finished their meal.
“Well, I’m out of here,” he said, putting a twenty on the table. “My treat.”
“Thanks. A. K. will be envious that I had breakfast with her significant other.”
“You, she trusts. Give her a hug for me.” Jack waved to Tonya as he headed for the door.
Susan gathered her purse, scooted out of the booth, and hurried to her yellow Camaro. The rain had slacked to a drizzle, and there were breaks in the clouds. Maybe Wesley would be spared a wet day after all. By now, he should be on the river.
She turned on her radio, remembering what he had said about the presence of the news media. The deep voice of a morning talk show host rambled on about the prospect of gas prices going higher but didn’t mentioned anything about the dragging operation.
Before pulling onto the highway, Susan stopped for a fast-moving black van. It sped past, kicking up a spray of water. The word Coroner was stenciled in white letters on the side panel. Swallowing hard, she fought back a bitter taste in her mouth. The presence of the medical examiner could mean only one thing—the recovery of additional remains. The car behind her honked, and she shook the thought from her head. Raising her hand, she signaled to the driver she was sorry and drove onto the highway toward the Bawdy Boutique.
To Susan’s surprise, she had arrived before anyone. She unlocked the front door. Inside, she stooped to pick up yesterday’s mail, which had scattered on the floor beneath the drop slot.
An engine rumbled, and A. K.’s red Mustang swung in beside Susan’s Camaro. She exited the vehicle in a flash and strode toward the shop. “I almost beat you.”
The Corpse Wore Cashmere Page 2