Bradford swung his gaze around to meet mine. “The dead one?”
“Yeah, she’s as confused as the rest of us. Like looking in a mirror.”
“So how do we proceed?” He took a long swig of beer. To the casual observer, he appeared at ease, but I knew different. Bradford was cocked like a tricky hammer on a revolver.
I shook my head. “I haven’t a clue, but we sure could use Scarlett’s help in hogtieing Snow White to the juke box. I’m thinking of leaving before she explodes again.”
He chuckled. “Vanessa wouldn’t like that. She’s gussied up real nice in that fancy dress.”
I frowned at the compliment. Bradford hadn’t said a word about my wardrobe but to complain about my heels. I tampered down the rising jealousy with a picture of Preston laying butt naked on rumpled bed sheets. Buns of steel. Oh, yeah. A rush of endorphins flooded my bloodstream, and my good mood returned.
“You stay here, Jolene.” Bradford drained the last of his beer. “I’m going to speak to Vanessa and her new boy toy now that the crowd has thinned.”
As he started off in that direction, I latched onto his arm. “Not without me, detective. I need some up close and personal eye contact with the twins.”
“Okay, but keep your mouth shut. Let me do the talking. See if you can tap into the Universal Mind for guidance.”
I let that comment slide. Keeping my mouth shut and my senses open might glean some information from the living and the dead, and since I’m pretty good at multitasking I should be able to observe the twins in action.
As we drew near the couple, those golden snake eyes settled on me with the same intense cosmic radiation of Halloween night, and I knew I faced the same woman now. No mistaking the pout gracing sultry red lips ripe for smacking. And boy did I want to smack her good. Taking a deep breath and holding it while I counted to ten, I relaxed and concentrated my psychic powers on the twins. Snow White immediately disengaged her perusal of Vanessa and fastened herself to my left shoulder, closest to Bradford.
“I swear to God it’s me,” she breathed into my ear. “But how can that be? If I’m dead and she’s alive, how can I be in two places at once? I’m Vanessa van Allen, I swear it. I’m the author of the Dark Enchantment Vampire Series.”
Get the hell off my shoulder.
While Snow White continued to spout her trivial drivel in one ear, I cocked the other to pick up Vanessa’s response to Bradford’s greeting. “…so delighted to see you, Sam dahling. I’m surprised to see you”—she paused to focus those snake eyes on me—“and Jolene here. I imagined you to be on your new job in Wyoming.”
Shock held me immobile. My breath caught in my throat at the unexpected news of Bradford’s leaving Whiskey Creek. Damn him. Damn his secrets.
Bradford patted me on the arm, but his gaze never left Vanessa. “I was worried. You seemed off Halloween night.”
Her twinkling laughter sounded false. “Sam, dahling, as you can see I’m fine and fully recovered from the book launch.” She turned to the man at her side. “Michael has been keeping me company, haven’t you, dahling?”
The man held out his hand to Bradford. “Michael Halsey. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”
“I vaguely remember this man.” The words breathed into my ear.
Bradford returned the handshake. “Sam Bradford, and this is Jolene Claiborne.”
I nodded acknowledgement but kept silent, my gaze riveted on the couple. It took a few seconds for me to register Snow White’s words, but when I did, I did a double take.
You know this man? From where?
Snow White vacated my shoulder for a better position to study the man. Ghostly fingers trailed through dark, wavy hair and around his ear. “Blood ties.”
As in a family connection? Brother? Cousin?
Goose bumps crept up my arm as Vanessa watched me, her eyes narrowed with undisguised hate and suspicion. With my psychic radar distracted by the evil twin, all cosmic communication halted. Again, perched on my shoulder in a state of quivering excitement, Snow White kept my ear hot with a steady stream of gibberish I couldn’t understand. A flash of black in my peripheral vision unbalanced my equilibrium and upset my stomach. Jolted by the violent assault, Snow White buried herself deep into my aura. Bile splashed into my mouth, and for a split second, I tasted an evil too horrible to contemplate. Tuning into the angel frequency, one of the many new tricks Scarlett had taught me, I scoured the energy waves for the source of the assault, but perceived nothing.
Get the hell off me!
“You feeling all right, Jolene?”
Bradford’s voice slurred as it penetrated the cloying fog, and I blinked rapidly to restore blood flow to my brain. “There’s a bug in my crawl.”
Bradford caught the look. “Probably just hunger. Excuse us, Vanessa.” He placed my hand on his arm. “Nice meeting you, Mr. Halsey.”
Not waiting for a reply, Bradford pulled me to his side and strode quickly out of the bar and into the lodge restaurant. The hostess seated us in a booth by the window, took our orders, and left with the menus. Bradford waited until she was out of earshot. “Okay, what’s up? You look terrible.”
“Your dead gal pal is rootin’ around in my aura.” I fidgeted in my seat, but Snow White remained firmly attached to me. “See if you can convince her to scram. I feel like hurling.”
Bradford looked aghast. “Good Lord, I’m living in the Twilight Zone.”
“Welcome to my world.” I continued to fidget as my unwelcome guest contorted in every shape imaginable. “Christ, where the hell is Scarlett and those handcuffs?”
“Learn anything interesting?”
“According to Peaches Noble, Vanessa can’t write squat. She believes a ghostwriter wrote the Dark Enchantment Vampire Series. Maylene Lovett agrees.”
Bradford had no knowledge of ghostwriting, so I quickly explained, pausing only when the waitress delivered our drinks and salads.
“What else did you learn?” He picked up his fork and rolled a tomato in dressing before munching on it.
“Well, as a book critic, Maylene sees a completely different voice in Vanessa’s later works. A certain level of genius Vanessa never showed in her earlier novels. I think we need to look into it.”
“Anything else?”
I dragged my fork through my salad, then laid it down, still nauseated. “Michael Halsey may be related to Snow White.”
Bradford’s brow creased in question.
“Snow White feels a blood tie with him,” I explained.
“I’ll do a background check.” He pulled out his cell phone from inside his Western blazer and placed a call to the Whiskey Creek police department. I sipped my tea as he communicated his request to Officer Diamond Presley.
“So when were you going to tell me about your new job in Wyoming?” I questioned in a heavy voice when he pocketed his phone.
“I guess now would be a good time.” His eyes were darker than sapphires.
“When are you leaving?”
“Soon. I’d like to be settled before the heavy snow falls on the mountains.”
“You love the mountains and cold winters,” my voice caught.
“Yes, I want to live in a town I’ve never lived in before. I want to meet new people and experience different cultures. The South is beautiful, but my heart is in the West.”
We shared a smile. “You would love it out there, Jolene. The wide-open spaces and towering mountains stretch into forever. The air is clean and crisp and refreshing.”
“My family is here.”
“And you have a new boyfriend. A doctor, right?” He picked up my limp hand and made silly little circles across my palm, sending a familiar shiver of awareness up my arm.
I cleared my throat, pretending not to be affected. “Yeah, a plastic surgeon.”
“He seems like a nice guy.”
“He is.”
“Does he know about your ghost buddies?”
“Not yet, but soon.” Round
and round his fingers stroked a sensuous fire, scrabbling my thoughts.
“Are you happy with him?”
An instant squeezing hurt as the memory of our breakup flashed before my eyes. Bradford had walked away. Reuniting with him meant leaving my family and friends for the wilds of Wyoming. Bradford was fun and passionate and blew my panties off. But Preston offered security in my hometown where I’d spent my entire life and built a thriving business. He was kind and gentle and a man with a slow hand in the bedroom. Dependable and stable.
Bradford tipped my chin up. Our eyes met. “Vanessa was just a passing thing. A rebound relationship. I never got over you. I still care—a lot.”
“Things change, Bradford. People change.”
“You haven’t answered my question. Are you happy with him?”
The arriving waitress with a loaded tray saved me from answering. The steaks smelled wonderful, and I forced myself to eat. Hopefully, the food would stay down as I now had a splitting headache. Although the other patrons in the restaurant couldn’t see my swirling aura, it continued to manifest itself on me physically—much like my first boating excursion on the choppy waters off the Georgia coast.
The symptoms parroted seasickness. Christ, I had to ditch Snow White and soon if I didn’t want to lose my supper here in the restaurant. Best to return to our cabin and coax the diva ghost out of hiding.
I pushed my plate away. “Get me outta here, Bradford.”
One look at me had him on his feet. “Bad food?” He signaled for the check and helped me from the booth.
“No. Your friend won’t settle down.” I clamped my hand over my mouth and reached for my handbag.
Not waiting for the check, Bradford slammed down a couple of bills on the table and ushered me toward the door. “Keep the change,” he told our waitress as she headed our way.
We made it to the door. Unfortunately, so had the rest of the group from the cocktail party. In front of the packed door, Vanessa and Michael were waiting for the hostess to seat them. Together, they blocked the only exit.
“Please allow us to pass.” Bradford’s voice was tight with anxiety. “Jolene isn’t feeling well.”
I glanced at the door. Anxious faces peered at me. Probably didn’t want to be the recipient of my undigested supper. “Let ’em through,” Maylene Lovett ordered. The crowd parted just enough for us to squeeze through.
Bradford gave a quick nod of thanks at the book critic and made for the opening with me pinned to his side. However, a strong pull on my arm broke Bradford’s hold and spun me around to face Vanessa’s angry countenance. “A word please—”
I barfed down the front of her red silk dress.
“Ahhh, you fat cow,” she screeched, and stepped back, her hands thrown upward. “You did that on purpose.” Livid at the slimy, smelling liquid and chunks of red meat dripping down her torso, she delivered a stinging slap across my face. Dizzy from all the action in my aura, I landed unceremoniously on the floor, jarring my teeth into my skull, and immediately sensed Snow White slip from my rocking aura. Now free of her and my supper, all traces of sickness vanished. Gazing up at the stunned, murmuring onlookers, I flashed my best smile and lifted my hand to Bradford.
He set me on my feet and smoothed the front of my dress down over my hips. “Are you all right?”
“Never better,” I chirped. “Just what the doctor ordered.”
Hoots of laughter sounded from the crowd. Vanessa’s head snapped around to appraise the offenders before zeroing in on me. “I’ll get you for this, bitch.” The woman’s mouth twisted in disdain, and her snake eyes grew cold and dark with a knowledge I couldn’t read.
“Now wait a minute, Vanessa,” Bradford piped in, “no call for insults or threats.”
I clenched my fists. Those were fightin’ words. I allowed my gaze to slowly traverse her slight, stinky form. At five-foot-seven and one-hundred and sixty pounds, this fat cow held the advantage, but since I was a Christian woman, I let the insult pass. “I’m sorry, Vanessa. I’ll pay to have your dress cleaned.”
Vanessa wanted no part of my Christian charity. “Oh, you’ll pay all right, I’ll see to it.” Her fists clenched, and for a second I thought about slugging the bitch. Instead, I remembered Jesus’s response when he was confronted with the possessed man in the tombs. Tossed that devil demon into a herd of pigs, he did. Well, I wasn’t Jesus, and not a freakin’ pig in sight, so I made for the door.
The crowd parted as Bradford and I exited the restaurant. In silence, we crossed the lobby and strode out into the cool autumn night. At the cabin, I brushed my teeth and changed into lounging pajamas. As soon as I came out of the bathroom, Bradford disappeared inside with pajamas which were new because he slept in the nude. In the kitchen, I made a pot of coffee and fished around for snack foods to appease my empty stomach.
The cupboards yielded a sweet treasure, and I grabbed up the bag of powdered donuts, poured a cup of coffee, and settled at the table to indulge. I had eaten two and was dunking another donut into my coffee when Bradford emerged from the bathroom. He quirked an eyebrow at me while he stashed his clothing into his suitcase, and I did the same at his blue plaid peejays.
He joined me at the small kitchenette table and plucked a sugary donut from the package to pop it into his mouth. I poured him a cup of coffee, added cream and sugar, and pushed it across the table.
“Not exactly a successful night.”
He took several sips of coffee to wash down the donut. “Not true. We know more now than yesterday.”
“We’re no closer to the true Vanessa van Allen.” I popped another donut into my mouth. “And speaking of your gal pals, the dead one hasn’t come home. Your aura’s clear.”
“Yeah, I know. I hope it stays that way.”
“Did you learn anything new at the cocktail party?”
“Not a peep from Cash Hitchcock. He acted as if he were still Vanessa’s agent.”
“Then Vanessa didn’t follow through with her threat to fire him.” I shook my head. “He’s lying. I know it. Something stinks in the woodpile.”
“Yeah, Snow White’s body.” Bradford downed the last of his coffee. “I have to tell you, Jolene, this is the craziest situation I’ve ever been involved in. I don’t know how you stand it all the time. The ghosts, I mean. I’m still not certain I’m not having a nervous breakdown.”
I laughed. “I’ve been having one since Scarlett bit the dust. Don’t worry. This is probably a one-time thing for you.” I drained the last bit of coffee and set our cups in the sink. When I returned from brushing my teeth, Bradford was still at the table.
“How are we going to handle the sleeping arrangements?” His eyes burned into mine.
My gaze traveled to the small bed. “It’s not like we haven’t slept together.”
Bradford’s brow rose. “And how does your boyfriend feel about you sharing my bed?”
“I’m not sharing your bed, dumbass,” I returned dryly. “And we’re only sleeping, not having sex.”
“He doesn’t know you’re here with me, does he?”
The question caught me off guard. Truthfully, it never occurred to me to ask Preston’s permission. We were only dating. Yes, we’d had sex, glorious sex I might add, but what does sex have to do with anything? A man’s ball and chain, I ain’t. Never again.
Bradford read my silence and gave me a gentle smile. “Don’t worry, Jolene. Come to bed. You’re safe from my advances, trust me.”
He, I trusted. Myself, not so much. Every solid inch of muscled skin hiding beneath those silly blue, plaid peejays were forever burned into my memory. Every delicious, hard inch.
Chapter Eleven
Ghostly Madness
I awoke to sunlight streaming through frilly yellow curtains, and the familiar sensation of Bradford’s pecker poking me in the back. A delightful shiver of wanting shot through my bloodstream almost setting me on fire. I clamped my jaw shut to still the moan rising in my throat as past memories o
f our lovemaking flooded my brain cells. Mistake. Liquid warmth flooded my twinkie pie, and before I could stop myself, I turned around to face him, and maneuvered my body to fit his.
My heart thundered when his eyelids fluttered, then slowly opened to peer into mine. A slow smile spread across his face as his pecker spoke to his brain. “Good morning, sunshine,” he whispered, then leaned in closer, his nose touching mine. Softly his breath fanned my face. Coffee and donuts. Briefly I wondered if my breath held the same hint of our late-night snack or had morning breath arrived with the sunrise.
He pressed a tender kiss on my nose before moving his mouth passionately over mine. Pleasure radiated outward, and my limbs became rubber when his hand traveled beneath my T-shirt nightie. The gentle tug on my panties brought the first awareness that we were approaching the point of no return, but I had no desire to stop the enviable outcome to his search for my treasure chest.
Stop!
Don’t!
Think of Preston!
Don’t!
A loud pounding on the door halted the silent battle warring in my head. Startled, I reached for my panties and bolted out of bed, rumpled and frustrated, and ran for the bathroom. Through the door, frantic mumbling resonated from the front of the cabin. Mrs. Goldenrod. Something must’ve happened. Hastily, I slipped on my panties and bathrobe and rushed out into the main room where a jean-clad, bare-chested Bradford listened to a harried Mrs. Goldenrod. “I’m not imagining anything,” she declared. “I know what I saw, Mr. Tucker.”
“What’s going on?”
Two sets of eyes fixed on me. Bradford spoke first. “Vanessa is missing.”
“She’s been kidnapped,” Mrs. Goldenrod gushed, wringing her hands. “A disturbance was called in, and when I went to check on her, I found the cabin trashed and splattered blood on the floor. Miss van Allen and her briefcase are missing!”
Butterflies assaulted my stomach. “Good lord, Bradford, what the hell is going on?”
Mrs. Goldenrod’s eyes glinted suspiciously. “Bradford? You registered as Annie Mae and Harland Tucker. Perhaps you should tell me what’s going on?” Suddenly her gaze shifted to the door and she took a step backward. “Wait a minute. Y’all broke into her cabin.” Another step. She grabbed the door handle.
A Dead Pig in the Sunshine Page 8