Fear gnawed at my gut, but I took a deep breath and started to read.
Dear sister,
I hope this letter finds you squirming. How is our brother? I hear you and Joe are spending a lot of time together. He even went to the church picnic with you. How plebeian of him. How did you ever manage THAT? Joe’s allergic to anything religious, and he never gave me the time of day, so why is he spending time with trailer trash like you? Perhaps I wouldn’t be so judgmental if I weren’t also jealous. Why don’t you ever spend time with me, Neely Kate? After everything I’ve done for you . . . I’m beginning to think you love Joe more than me.
That won’t do at all . . .
I’ve been thinking a lot about your mother—what a hard life she’s had and how you were the cause of it. Do you ever think she wishes she’d gotten rid of you before you were born? Do you think the world would be a better place without you?
I bet Beasley thinks so.
You and I are so much alike . . . so many secrets. Have you ever had a secret so big that you were sure it would burst out of you? No, I suspect not. You’re such a great secret keeper. Me . . . not so much. You’ll need to tell me your secret for holding them in the next time you visit.
Don’t wait too long.
Your loving sister,
Kate
By the time I finished reading, I was close to hyperventilating. I’d hoped she was bluffing about what she knew—or at least exaggerating—but the azaleas and her mention of Beasley suggested otherwise. But how? It was all ancient history, buried deeply in my past. Or so I had thought.
And how did she know about Joe spending time with me and going to the church picnic? Did she have spies watching me?
The front door bell chimed, and Rose walked in with a coffee cup in hand. Since she was working outside today, she was wearing capris and a sleeveless shirt, her hair pulled back in a messy ponytail bun. I knew she had multiple consultation appointments scheduled throughout the day—it was why she’d left her little dog, Muffy, at home—but she’d started off by going to see a client about a mixup. The phone call . . .
I shook myself out of my distress. “Oh, my stars and garters. Joe was here when you called, and I forgot to call you back.”
“That’s okay,” she said in a cheerful tone. “I was calling to see if you wanted coffee, but I see that Joe must have already brought you some.”
“It came with strings,” I said, folding the letter and trying to nonchalantly slip it in my purse in the desk drawer. While Rose knew Kate had written to me, she didn’t know much else about it. “He wants me to go up to Magnolia with him after work to look at kitchen cabinets.”
“Oh, is he remodeling his kitchen now?” she asked, eyeing the stack of mail on my desk. “Did the Pearson check arrive in the mail? I might have to pay them a visit to get their final payment.”
She moved closer. As she picked up the envelopes, she noticed the flowers scattered across my desk. Picking one up, she turned it over to examine it. “Azaleas? At the end of June?” Her gaze lifted to me. “Where did these come from?”
“A customer,” I lied. “A man came in and said he wanted some of those planted in his yard.”
“Where’d he get them? All the azaleas died out by the end of May.”
“Beats me.” I shrugged.
“That’s so strange . . . Did you set up a consult?”
“No. Turned out he wanted to buy the plants and do it himself. I told him to head over to the nursery.”
Rose lifted it up and breathed in. “This is a deciduous azalea. Their scent is stronger.” She set it back on my desk. “No wonder you kept them. They smell wonderful.”
I would have loved nothing more than to burn them to a crisp. But right now, I had a ton of questions that I couldn’t hope to answer myself, and if Rose was here, she could cover for me. “Do you plan to be here long?”
Her eyebrows lifted. “About forty-five minutes.”
“I need to run a quick errand. Can you cover?”
“Yeah . . . of course . . . How’d your car do coming in?”
“It sputtered along.” But we both knew it was on life support. I’d be better served to put the money toward a new one instead of fixing this one piecemeal. While Rose and I usually rode together, now that we were deep into summer, she was busy with consults while her business partner, Bruce Wayne, kept having to hire additional crew to keep up with the demand. She couldn’t worry about carting me around.
“Do you want me to drive you?” she asked. “We’ve been so busy this last week we haven’t had a chance for a good chat.”
I couldn’t help wondering if part of her wanted to come see what I was up to. I’d been anxious lately, kicking Rose’s mothering instinct into high gear, but she respected my privacy too much to outright ask.
Lord knew we both had secrets, some more obvious than others. I considered lying about where I was going, but I was tired of lying to her. Besides, if I really had to leave Henryetta for good—and I was beginning to think it might come to that—I wanted her to remember the good things about me, not a pack of lies.
“You stay here,” I said with a wave that suggested her offer was ridiculous. “There’s no sense in you wasting valuable work time to pick up some toilet paper at Walmart. Let’s plan a Grey’s Anatomy marathon this weekend.”
It wasn’t a lie if I actually did it. Or so I told myself.
She frowned as she studied me, worry filling her eyes. She would never push too hard, but I knew she would be there for me if I changed my mind and asked for help. This was what unconditional love looked like, although it had taken me a while to figure it out. Still . . . everyone had limits. A line they would refuse to cross.
What was Rose’s line?
I needed to get out from under her worried gaze. I grabbed my purse and hopped out of my seat, heading for the door. “I should be back in a half hour.”
“Neely Kate.”
I spun around to face her.
She paused and lowered her voice. “Have you gotten any more letters from Kate?”
Had she linked the azaleas to Kate? No. She was just worried. She’d probably been stewing about the letters and my refusal to tell Joe about them. “Nope. She must have realized she was barking up the wrong tree.”
“Huh.” I could see she had serious doubts. Especially since I hadn’t seemed quite like myself lately.
I’d regretted mentioning Kate’s letters to her as soon as the words had spilled out of me a couple of weeks ago. But I sure wasn’t telling her anything now.
If she found out what I’d done . . .
She wouldn’t find out. I’d make damn sure of it.
That’s why I was about to swallow my pride and pay a visit to Skeeter Malcolm, the king of the Fenton County crime world. Even if I was currently on his shit list.
Chapter 3
My car was coughing and blowing out noxious fumes by the time I pulled into the parking lot of Skeeter’s pool hall. I prayed the stupid thing would start and get me back to the town square after I finished my task here. I might have to break down and ask Joe for help after all, and that stuck in my craw. I’d vowed never to ask my brother for money.
Dammit. I felt like my world was imploding.
I was taking plenty of risks by showing up here at ten thirty on a Tuesday morning, the biggest one being that he might not be here yet. The pool hall wasn’t his only business, but he spent most of his time here. Besides, it seemed more likely he’d be here on a weekday morning than at his strip club, the Bunny Ranch. Then again, rumor had it that Skeeter had spent several nights there last week, so maybe I should have started my search there after all. But I was here now, and I had serious doubts my car would make it to the Bunny Ranch, which was located about ten miles southwest of town, and then back to the town square. I was already here. I might as well check.
But Skeeter’s availability wasn’t my only concern. After our last encounter, I wasn’t sure how he’d receive my i
mpromptu visit.
Last winter Skeeter and Rose had formed an unlikely symbiotic—yet secret—arrangement. She’d used her visions of the future to help him ferret out the turncoats in his newly acquired kingdom. In turn, he’d helped her protect her then-boyfriend Mason, the county’s assistant DA, from death threats. They’d saved Mason (who had, rather ungratefully, broken up with Rose and moved to Little Rock) and toppled a mutual enemy—my father, J.R. Simmons—thereby saving Skeeter’s kingdom.
Only, that hadn’t been the end of Rose’s relationship with Skeeter.
She’d taken to meeting him on Tuesday nights, even if she hadn’t told me. It fell under our don’t ask, don’t tell unspoken rule. I’d worried Skeeter would take advantage of her emotionally vulnerable state.
Everything came to a head a few weeks ago when Rose and I started looking for a necklace for a man I knew from high school. What had appeared to be a simple investigation had landed Rose and me smack-dab in the middle of Skeeter Malcolm’s crime world. Rose had helped avert a turf war by holding a parley between Skeeter and a new challenger, the real owner of the necklace.
The meeting might have saved the county plenty of trouble, but it had created a rift between Skeeter and Rose. She was angry because he hadn’t been truthful with her about how he’d planned to handle the situation; he was pissed because he’d wanted the necklace she’d returned to his challenger. As far as I knew, they hadn’t spoken to each other since the meeting two weeks ago. And since I was the one who’d stolen the necklace from Skeeter’s right-hand man, Jed, I was pretty sure he wasn’t too happy with me.
There was only one way to find out.
Lifting my chin, I marched inside the empty pool hall, a little surprised the door was unlocked since the sign said it was closed.
I stopped in the middle of the place, feeling on edge in the darkened room. The upended stools on the tables gave it a deserted and creepy look.
I headed toward the back, intending to make a beeline to the office, but a beefy guy appeared in the doorway to the hall, blocking my way. I recognized him as one of Skeeter’s trusted men, but I didn’t trust him one iota.
“Get out of my way, Merv,” I said in a voice that suggested I wasn’t taking crap. “I need to speak to Skeeter.”
He crossed his arms over his bulky chest. “He’s not here. Now get the hell out.”
I narrowed my eyes and held my ground. “Then you won’t mind if I see for myself before I leave.” I tried to get around him, but he was quick for a man who could double as a prize-winning bull.
“Leave. Now.”
The look in his eyes told me he wasn’t playing, and I knew I had no right to even be here, but desperation was clawing at my insides. I needed help, and the fact that I was here in the first place meant I’d obviously resorted to begging for it, but I sure as shinola wasn’t begging for help from him.
My jaw clenched. “Get out of my way, Merv.”
“You need to leave.”
I took two steps back, pretending to retreat while I came up with a plan. Merv was big, but he was clumsy. If I managed to draw him out to the main room, I could bolt for the hall and make it to the office.
Backing up to a table close to the bar, I grinned as I shoved a stool to the floor. “Oops.”
“Pick it up,” he barked.
I moved sideways to another table, keeping my eyes on him as I pushed another stool to the floor. “Oops again.”
He took two steps into the room. That wasn’t enough. I need a clearer shot.
I turned my back to him, fully aware that he was hulking behind me. Choosing a table closer to the front door, I pushed all four stools to the floor in a big sweep. Then I turned to give him a defiant look. I knew he had a temper. I was counting on drawing it out.
I was a little too successful.
Merv charged for me on my left. I zigged right, skirting around the tables and aiming for the hall.
While I was running between the tables, Merv acted like the bull he resembled and plowed through tables, heading right for me. Apparently his problem wasn’t with the mess I’d made so much as the fact that I was the one who’d made it. Stools and tables went flying everywhere. I would have made it to the opening if a stool hadn’t flown into my path. It slowed me down enough to give Merv an advantage. He gave me a hard shove, slamming me with enough force the back of my head hit the wall, sending stars across my vision and momentarily stunning me.
The hall was mere feet away, but Merv stood at an equal distance, heading straight for me with dark, dangerous eyes. I bolted for the hall but barely made it a few inches before Merv’s meaty arm reached up. His fingers wrapped around my throat as he slammed me back against the wall.
“Get your goddamned hands off her,” said a deep, menacing voice I recognized. “Now.”
Merv’s eyes narrowed, his hand still on my neck. “I’m taking care of the trash, Carlisle.”
“What part of that order did you not understand?”
Merv’s hold tightened, cutting off my air supply. “Don’t overstep your bounds, Carlisle.”
Jed stepped out of the hallway, looking like he was about to murder his associate. “The way you’re clearly overstepping yours?”
Great. They were having a contest of manliness while I was being choked to death. To hell with this nonsense.
I lifted my arm in front of Merv and then brought it down hard on his forearm, breaking his hold as I lifted my knee hard into his crotch.
He grunted as he bent over.
I was free, but I was pissed to the point of rage. I might be a five-foot-four blonde woman who often came across as flighty, but dammit, I was tired of taking shit.
I elbowed his nose as I swung to the side. He grunted, reaching for me, but I kicked him on the inside of his elbow with the heel of my shoe. Losing his balance, he fell face-forward like a toppled tree. His left hand was splayed on the floor, and I stomped on it, putting all my weight on my heel.
He cried out in pain, then reached for my ankle. “I’m going to kill you!”
I took a step backward as I pulled my gun out of my purse and pointed it at his face, which was now covered in blood. “Go ahead and try.”
If looks could kill, I would have been blown into a million pieces.
Jed stepped between us, my gun now pointed at his back.
“This is done, Chapman,” he said in a guttural voice that rebuked the challenge Merv had laid out. “Let it go.”
There was no way in Hades Merv was going to let this go, and maybe Jed knew it because the next thing I knew, Jed was wrapping his arm around my back and pushing me into the hall.
I pointed my gun to the floor, jerking out of his grasp, and walked into the open office. Skeeter wasn’t sitting at his desk.
“Where’s Skeeter?” I asked, spinning around to face Jed.
He shut the door behind him and flipped the deadbolt on the door. “Out.”
“I need to see Skeeter.”
Without responding, he disappeared behind a door—a half bath, judging from the sound of running water—and returned with a wet towel.
I put my gun back in my purse and was about to ask him what he was doing, but he grabbed my upper arm and dragged me over to Skeeter’s desk. He tossed the towel onto an empty part of the surface, then slid his hands under my arms and lifted me until my butt was scooted onto the edge of the wood.
I fought against his hold. “Let me go.”
“Quit fighting, Neely Kate. You’re bleeding. Let me look.”
Quit fighting. That was an order I’d been rebelling against for as long as I could remember, but I suddenly realized he was right—the back of my head and shirt were covered in blood.
His phone rang, and he pulled it out of his pocket with a grim look. He didn’t say hello when he answered, leading instead with: “There’s a situation.” There was a several-second pause before he said, “Got it.”
As if something had been settled, he hung up and pocketed
the phone.
“Man of few words,” I said out of nervousness. I was used to men’s attention. Shoot, a lifetime ago, I’d used it to get what I wanted more times than I could count. But no man had ever set my nerves on edge like the man in front of me did. Not even my husband.
Jed didn’t respond, thereby proving my point. He gently swept my hair away from my shoulder before lifting his hands to the back of my head. His fingers prodded my scalp until I cried out as pain shot through my head.
He lifted the towel and patted at the spot as I clasped the edges of the desk beneath me to keep from crying out again.
Jed moved to my side, searching my face. “You need stitches.”
I tried to slide off the desk, but he grabbed my arm and kept me in place.
“You need stitches. It’s not up for debate. You have two options. I can take you to the ER, or I can have someone here within a half hour.”
“You have someone who makes house calls?”
His mouth twitched and he looked like he was about to smile. Almost. “Skeeter.”
He said his name as though that explained everything, but I supposed in most instances it did.
“I don’t have time to go to the ER, and I sure as shooting wouldn’t know how to explain it. But I told Rose I’d be back in a half hour.”
“She doesn’t know you’re here?”
“No, and regardless of what you probably believe, it’s not about her. I’m here for me.”
He didn’t say anything, just grabbed my hand and lifted it to the towel he had pressed against my head. Then he pulled out his phone and sent a text, pocketed it again, and returned to the half bath. He came back with another wet towel.
He cleaned my neck with gentle swipes, and something about the way he took care of me brought tears to my eyes. Soon they were streaming down my face.
Trailer Trash (Neely Kate Mystery Book 1) Page 2