Didn’t see that coming.
Or the heavy object crashing down on my head.
****
My next conscious sensation was one of extreme pain. I groaned as I rolled over to my side and tried to lift my splitting head from the dusty floor. My stomach heaved and emptied itself. Wiping my hand across my mouth, I managed to push myself upright and lean against the wall. Everything began to swim, and I inhaled deep breaths to dispel the dizziness. The pounding in my skull deepened with every agonized breath.
Bradford’s frantic voice penetrated the fog settling over me. How long had I’d been out, I hadn’t a clue. Bradford’s expected presence suggested not long, a couple of minutes at the most. Finally, the beam of a flashlight swung over me and Bradford knelt by my side.
“Be still,” he ordered as he wiped my mouth with his handkerchief, then examined my head. “You have a gash on your scalp.” I winced as he pressed the handkerchief against the bleeding wound. Bradford radioed for backup.
“I’m fine other than you pressing my brains into my sinuses,” I protested, and reached to brush his hands from my sore head. “Take it easy, will ya? And I don’t need the paramedics.”
“I say you do. What happened?” His tone remained gentle, although, I knew he wanted to thrash me for disobeying his order to stay put.
I drew a shaky breath. “I heard a woman’s scream and came to investigate.”
“I told you to stay put.”
“Um, I know, but I just reacted. I couldn’t stand by and allow another killing.” My hands trembled as I fought nausea. “I found Michael Halsey tied to a chair in the corner. Did you find him?”
“The house is empty. CSU is in route.” He reached for my hands. “Do you think you can stand?”
A wave of dizziness seized me as I took his hands and climbed to my feet. “No, not yet.” Bradford gently lowered me back to a sitting position, keeping my hands in his.
“Could you identify any others? Vanessa?”
“No, her face remained in the shadows when she lit the candle, but the hands were definitely female. Who else could’ve it been other than Vanessa? This is her last known position.”
“And there’s a third person involved,” he said with certainty.
The distance echo of arriving sirens interrupted our conversation. Bradford climbed to his feet, and handed me his flashlight and my gun. “I’ll show them in. You okay?”
I cradled my .38 in my hand. “Now I am, but hurry back. This place gives me the creeps.”
“Any ghosts of the past hanging around?”
“No, it’s the living I’m worried about.”
Bradford chuckled. “At least you’re in good spirits. Be right back.”
I made a continual sweep of the room with the flashlight as Bradford’s footsteps sounded down the hall. Although I had a splitting headache, my stomach had settled down, and the dizziness had abated. I had survived the attack with merely a cut scalp and accompanying headache.
My third escape from the Death Angel.
God, what a morbid thought.
Damn, Deena’s right. This ghost thingy was out of hand and had to stop. Time for an intervention from the professional ghostbusters. Hopefully, Madame Mia had out-of-town connections. This required the best of the best in the business, and Madame Mia didn’t quite make the cut.
I retrained the light beam on the empty corner chair, my thoughts racing to piece together Vanessa and her cohort’s quick escape, as I hadn’t seen a vehicle of any kind when I arrived. The dilapidated rear garage hardly seemed a likely place to stash a getaway car. I thought again of Careen observing Vanessa with Snellgrove in the graveyard. Could he be the third person? Or could she have misinterpreted the interaction? More questions without answers.
The approaching male voices and footfalls on the stairs announced Bradford’s return with the paramedics, and I swung the flashlight beam to the door. One man and a woman EMT accompanied Bradford into the room.
“I’m fine, really,” I whined as the paramedics squatted down beside me. “Just a small cut on my head.”
The female paramedic slipped on medical gloves. “Let me be the judge of that.” She probed the cut while Bradford trained a light over my head. The other paramedic slipped a blood pressure cuff over my arm.
The wound turned out to be minor and only required a butterfly bandage, but an egg-sized lump had formed under the cut. Even though Bradford and the EMTs insisted I go to the ER, I refused, and once standing steadily on my feet, they backed off. The paramedics packed up their first-aid boxes and left, leaving Bradford and I alone in the upstairs room, although reverberations drifted from downstairs announcing the arrival of backup.
I shook off Bradford’s hand. “Any sign of Michael or Vanessa?”
He stepped over to the empty chair. “None, yet. Are you sure of what you saw?”
“I’m sure. Michael Halsey was tied to that chair.”
Bradford joined me at the door. “CSU will sweep the entire house for any evidence. In the meantime, let’s get you home.”
Since my headache hadn’t abated, I didn’t argue and allowed him to lead me downstairs and out to my car. He opened the passenger car door. “Get in.”
“No, I can drive.”
He ran a hand through his dark hair, looking weary. “Why must you be stubborn?”
“Because I can, that’s why. I’m perfectly capable of driving myself. You have work to do.” Shouts from the backyard halted our discussion.
“Stay here,” Bradford ordered and dashed in the direction of the raised voices. I considered disobeying, but my head splitting in two argued for the passenger seat, so I chose that option. With my head back against the headrest, I closed my eyes and took deep, calming breaths, which eased the throbbing pain.
“Jolene, honey, open your eyes.”
My eyelids popped open, and my head snapped up at Granny Tucker’s voice, and the sweet scent of pipe tobacco drifted in front of me, filling me with a sense of well-being that my grandparents were close by.
“I’m listening, Granny. What are you trying to tell me? Scarlett promised your message would become clear in time, but it hasn’t. Please tell me what you mean.”
Silence. Only the fading scent of Grandpa’s tobacco lingered. Frustrated with the continuing mystery, I climbed out of the car and stood on the sidewalk in complete confusion under the golden pool of light raining down from the streetlamp. The muted sounds of male voices reverberated from the back, bringing my attention to the commotion of the investigation. Without much thought, I followed the voices around to the rear of the house where I spotted Bradford and a circle of men casting tire tracks leading from the crumbling garage.
So my assumption had merit. A getaway car had been stashed out of sight. Bradford detached himself from the group and strode over to my side. For several seconds we stood in silence.
“Found something interesting?” I watched the officers with fascination.
“Car tracks leading from the garage if you can believe it.”
“I can believe anything.”
“You sound tired.”
“I am, thought I’d go on home.”
“I’d feel better if Officer Clark tagged along.”
“He’s going to anyway.” I gave him a half-smile. “Right?”
“Just a precaution, mind you.” Bradford pecked me on the cheek. “I’ll check in with you tomorrow.”
Officer Clark tagged my Mustang all the way home, and pulled into my driveway behind me. He waited until I’d gone inside and turned off the carport lights before leaving. In the kitchen, I downed a couple of aspirins, poured a bowl of milk for Tango, and made a cup of hot herbal tea. With tea in hand, I padded down to my bedroom and placed the steaming cup on the nightstand, shed my clothing, and took a quick shower.
When I emerged from the bathroom, Tango lay in the middle of the bed, cleaning himself, his loud purring a comforting sound to my tired ears. I joined him on the bed and
sipped the hot herbal tea, my fuzzy mind trying to grasp the events of the night.
Finally, my eyelids fluttered closed, and I turned off the light and settled down to sleep. I must’ve dozed for several hours before I roused from my slumber disturbed by troubling dreams. Rolling over, I switched on the bedside lamp. 3:44 a.m.. Fully awake, I propped up my pillows to lean against, and allowed my mind to travel back to every harrowing moment. The frightened scream. The first step inside the creepy mansion. The fruitless search from room to room. Climbing the stairs to investigate the faint sounds from upstairs. Entering the last door at the end of the hallway. The faint rustling from the corner. The flash of a match strike. A woman’s hand. Michael Halsey tied to the chair. Exploding pain. Unconsciousness.
Wait. Go back, Jolene. Think. You’re missing something important.
“Jolene, honey, open your eyes.” Grandma Tucker’s voice echoed again in my mind. Excited now, I jumped up from bed and paced the bedroom floor, my thoughts racing. Back, I went, replaying every second of the night until suddenly, like the unexpected flare of a match in the inky darkness, I remembered what had awoken me.
The ring!
I froze in my tracks, my mind tumbling over the brief glimpse of a ruby ring on the hand of the shadowed figure towering over a gagged Michael.
Gagged! And beaten! Damn, how’d I miss that? What else had I forgotten? Needing a caffeine infusion to stimulate my energy level, and appease my addiction, I headed into the kitchen and started a pot of strong, black coffee. Tango ambled in shortly thereafter and settled at my feet.
As I waited for the coffee to finish dripping, I grabbed colored pencils and a notebook from my office and sat at the kitchen table to draw a simple rendition of the ruby ring. As I continued to stare at the simple drawing, a sense of recognition came over me. I’d seen the ring before. Recently. But where?
Two cups of coffee later, I was still drawing a blank, but filled with the certainty that I’d seen the expensive ring before. Not on Vanessa. She only wore sapphires I’d learned from a quick Internet search. Someone at the Halloween party? I made a quick list of the women I remembered being there, but was unsuccessful in conjuring an image of their jewelry. Perhaps Bradford would know. I reached for my cell phone and noted the time. 4:30. I hesitated. Too early, I’d better wait for the sun to come up.
I poured another cup of coffee, and prowled restlessly around the kitchen, too keyed up to sleep. With two hours to burn, I dug through the pantry until I found a box of brownie mix and a can of chocolate frosting. From the freezer I pulled a bag of chopped pecans harvested from the farm. Ten minutes of prep, and into the oven they went, and I sat down at the table with another cup of coffee and waited for the sun to come up.
Chapter Twenty
Screw Christian Upbringing
Scarlett showed up on my doorstep just as the morning light breeched the kitchen window and struck me full in the face. She gave no warning of any kind. Just appeared sitting across from me at the kitchen table with a toothy smile on her foxy face. Keyed up on caffeine, I dropped my empty cup on the table with a clatter and colored the kitchen with a few choice words. Scarlett didn’t bat an eye, just smiled wider. “Good morning, girlfriend, I’m here to collect my prisoner. Hey, brownies.”
“Well, she’s not here, dumbass,” I countered, perturbed at her chirpy tone. Not only jittery and hyped up, tiredness skirted just below the nervous twitter brought on from an overload of caffeine.
Scarlett hiked a haughty brow. “What’s got your ass tied in a knot? I thought you’d be glad to see me.”
I heaved a nervous sigh, and pushed away from the table. “I am glad to see you, really. I’m a little out of sorts this morning, Scarlett.” I poured another cup of black coffee.
“I believe you’ve had enough, don’t you?”
I stared down at the steaming liquid and agreed, pouring it down the sink. “I am kinda overdosing.”
“Why don’t you tell me what’s bothering you?” She patted the chair seat next to her.
I took my seat and gave her a detailed report of the last three days. “And this mystery just keeps getting weirder.”
“A ruby ring, you say?”
I shoved the crude drawing across the table. “Do you recognize it?”
She shook her head. “Can’t say that I do.”
“I wonder if Careen—”
“Oh no,” Scarlett cut me off. “My prisoner is heading to Purgatory, not on another wild goose chase. I’m telling you Vanessa van Allen is on the list.”
“Have you seen her up there?”
“No.”
“Then what’s the harm in asking one question?”
“Claiborne, you really push my buttons.”
I pushed back a tangle of kinky hair, and climbed to my feet. “Join the crowd, Scarlett. Give me a few minutes to dress and we’ll head out.”
“If I do this, you have to promise not to interfere again. Agreed?”
“Agreed.”
I showered and dressed in record time and placed a quick call to Bradford. He didn’t pick up the call. I left a message for him to stop by the house, grabbed my purse and bagged lunch, and headed off to the salon. Five minutes later, I pulled into the rear parking lot and entered the quiet shop. I deposited my lunch in the refrigerator before unlocking the facial room door and stepping inside to see Careen shackled to Scarlett’s side with the golden handcuffs.
Careen’s eyes burned with fire at my entrance. “You lied,” she accused in a venomous voice. “Left me here with an empty promise. Now, I’m shackled to this bitch!”
Scarlett jerked hard on the handcuffs. “Settle down. What’s done is done. Your time on earth is complete.”
“I’m sorry, Careen, but I couldn’t haul you around with me any longer. Really, we’re not compatible. You make me sick.”
“Just show her the picture, so we can get out of here,” Scarlett ordered in a strong voice. “I’ve got another job lined up.”
I quirked an eyebrow at her. “Far away, I hope.”
“My presence has been requested out at Pineridge Plantation.”
A mental picture formed in my mind of the magnificent antebellum plantation on the far reaches of the county. “I thought that issue had been resolved last year. What could possibly be wrong now?”
“This isn’t about the living, Claiborne, so give it a rest. Show her the picture. I’m in a hurry.”
A stubborn expression planted itself on Careen’s face as I shoved the picture under her nose.
“Well? Do you recognize the ring?”
She was silent for a moment. “The bloodstone is remarkable.”
“Is that a yes?”
She shrugged in a bored manner. “That’s for me to know and for you to find out.”
Scarlett gave another vicious yank on the handcuffs. Sparks flew. “Answer Jolene’s question or I’ll make your trip home a living hell.”
Careen flashed a bright red. “Okay, okay. It caught my attention at the Halloween book launch.”
I spoke up. “Do you remember the woman wearing it?”
“No, too many people in costume and my mind was elsewhere.”
“Good enough.” Scarlett turned to me. “Well, this is goodbye for now. You’re on your own from here. Good luck.” With those parting words, she and Careen faded away.
Satisfied with the progress I’d made, I relocked the facial room door and left the salon as it was too early to hang around, and drove home. Since I had a couple of hours to kill before work, I cleaned the house and fixed myself a small breakfast. The phone rang a summons a bit after seven. I groaned at the caller ID. Damn. Preston. Not the person I wanted to speak with right now, but I couldn’t ignore him.
“Hello,” I greeted in a neutral tone.
“Hey, cutie,” his mellow voice came over the line. “I’m in the neighborhood and need some time with my girl.”
Those loving words tore right through my heart and conscience. God, wha
t on earth am I doing wanting two men? How do I get myself untangled from the quicksand of desire? My Christian upbringing commanded only one man per woman. Right now, as things stood, I was playing two fiddles, or better yet, letting two fiddles play me. However, I wanted Preston and Bradford in my bed. Both of them. Not at the same time, of course. I’m not that kinky.
My emotions whirled and swirled as the memories of Preston’s love play planted themselves in my mind, and I grew warm with anticipation. Preston had great stamina. A man with a slow hand. Glancing down at my watch, I noted I had just enough time for some good ole fashioned stress relief.
Screw my Christian upbringing.
“I’ll leave the kitchen door unlocked,” I purred in my most seductive voice. “I believe you know the way to Satisfaction Lane.” I chuckled with intent.
His quick intake of breath echoed over the line. “Just what the doctor ordered.”
The line disconnected, and I hurried to the bedroom and pulled a condom out of the nightstand, then shucked off my clothes down to my voluptuous nakedness, and kicked Tango out of bed. Arranging myself over the tussled covers, I posed seductively facing the door. The instant he crossed the threshold, he would see my treats.
Several minutes later, the kitchen door opened and closed. I could hear footfalls coming down the hallway toward the bedroom. I licked my lips to moisten them and spread my legs a fraction for enticement. Anxious now, I kept my eyes glued to the bedroom door expecting Preston any second.
However, Mama walked in.
We screamed in unison. Mama threw up her hands to shield her eyes, while I scrambled from the bed in search of my clothes scattered about the carpeted floor.
“What are you doing here, Mama?” I howled, as I pulled on my panties and jerked my lace bra off the wardrobe tree. “Why can’t you knock like other people, or better yet, ring the damn doorbell?”
Mama snatched up my jeans and threw them at me, her eyes afire. “Because I left you a message telling you I’d be right over, and I thought you’d be expecting me. Your father dropped me off. However, appears I’m not the person you expected.”
I glanced over at the blinking message machine on the nightstand. Why hadn’t I noted that earlier? Geez. I had the brains of a warthog.
A Dead Pig in the Sunshine Page 15