A Dead Pig in the Sunshine

by Penny Burwell Ewing

  “Bad idea to meet here,” Bradford commented at the female surveillance. “We need to continue this discussion in private.”

  Perturbed, I bit into my hotdog. “Not until I’m finished,” I muttered with a full mouth.

  “Is Deena available for a quick chat?”

  “Not at the moment. She’s working out a problem.”

  “I’ll track down Cash Hitchcock as soon as we’re finished and swing by Barron’s and talk with the staff.”

  “What about Vanessa?” I shoved the last bite into my mouth.

  “There’s still an APB out for her. Don’t worry, we’ll find her.”

  “Damn right, we’ll find her.”

  “I meant the police, Jolene.”

  “I did too.”

  Bradford looked at me. “Swear to it.”

  I raised my right hand. “I swear to leave the Queen of the Vampires to the police. I also swear to mind my own business, unless provoked.”

  “You provoke easily.”

  “True,” I conceded. “But I’m done with Vanessa and her band of bloodsuckers. I have a bigger problem at the salon.”

  “Anything I can help with?”

  “Not unless you personally know a Catholic priest.”

  Bradford’s face twisted. “Ah, leave me out of it.”

  I smiled. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

  We finished lunch and parted ways, me to find a priest and him to track down Careen’s killer.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Where Have All the Good Priests Gone?

  I came up empty handed with my search for a Catholic priest willing to exorcise my facial room of the uninvited guest. The only Catholic Church in Whiskey Creek didn’t believe my story and showed me the door with instructions to never return. I blew through the two Methodist’s guys, and the ever-faithful Baptists used colorful language to describe my expanded imagination. Even my pastor turned me down and recommended I come in for counseling. When I exited his office, I was sure Mama would be receiving a phone call as soon as I disappeared around the corner.

  With Madame Mia on vacation, I turned to the Universalist and Mormons. They couldn’t help but recommended the Jehovah’s Witnesses. Nope. I lost them in the translation. They pointed to the Presbyterian Church down the road. They rejected me, too.

  However, I did receive help in the most unlikely place. The Pentecostal Church of the Holy Rollers. They welcomed me with open arms and promised to rid my salon of the devil’s messenger as soon as they could find a replacement for their spiritual leader. Seems he ran off with the secretary’s husband. But in the meantime, if I was willing, they would stand in the gap by laying hands on me and praying in tongues until the Holy Spirit baptized me in tongues of fire. Although Mama had warned me against such a practice, I figured it wouldn’t hurt, so I agreed. I came out of there with a limited dictionary of mumbo-jumbo and a parcel of new friends.

  With my bones vibrating with spiritual energy, I returned to the salon and finished the day in a happy frame of mind. Even though I was tempted to exorcise the facial room myself, I decided to hold off until the weekend and do research on the subject. Since Deena never returned from lunch, I tackled the cleaning chores solo, closed the salon, and headed for the house and a hot shower.

  Clothed in lounging pajamas, I warmed leftovers and watched a recorded episode of my favorite soap opera. Afterward, I cleaned the kitchen and then sat down with my notebook to record my recent discoveries on the Halsey/van Allen case. I jotted these down and did a quick scan of the information to reacquaint myself with the twists and turns of the entwined cases.

  Thoughts:

  Vanessa had a falling-out with her agent, Cash Hitchcock, over a suspected false royalty statement. Was the agent skimming money off the top? Cash knew Vanessa’s secret. Possibly about Careen? What were they doing together at Barron’s? Why is Cash still in town?

  Purvis Dupree of Firebrand Publications and Vanessa had once shared a bed. Check and see who published Vanessa’s earlier work. Blackmail?

  The mysterious caller in the study had been Vanessa demanding Careen to switch places. Careen feared for her work and hoped to stop the charade. Careen had not only met Vanessa but her death Halloween night. Careen identified Vanessa as her killer. I have doubts.

  Where’s the missing manuscript?

  What happened in the cabin? Where is Vanessa?

  What’s Michael Halsey’s part in this? Where is he?

  Sheriff Snellgrove was arguing with Vanessa in the graveyard. What’s his part in this? What’s the connection? Scarlett confirmed he’s involved.

  Careen was wearing the Snow White costume when we discovered her. She didn’t commit suicide. Who doctored the autopsy? What about Mini Pearl?

  Who has the ruby ring? Whose car made the tire impressions at the Maco mansion?

  Is Betty van Allen an accomplice? What about the financial repercussions in the event of Vanessa’s death? Betty has a secret.

  Was Careen killed by accident? Could the killer have mistaken her for Vanessa?

  Vanessa is hiding at home. Why the pretense? What’s really going on behind the scenes?

  What about Peaches Noble and Maylene Lovett? Where are they? Both hated Vanessa and wanted to stop the publication of her exposé. Check their whereabouts.

  With the manuscript missing, the book deal is dead. Who has it?

  Vanessa is the key to both cases.

  Still feeling as if I were overlooking an important clue, I reread my notes three times before my tired and itching eyes forced me to stop. Yawning, I glanced at the kitchen clock. 10:57. I pushed back from the table and started to make a pot of coffee to keep me awake, but changed my mind. This could wait. Dead on my feet and feeling the burn of frustration, I turned out the lights, and with Tango on my heels, I made our way to the bedroom. Within minutes of laying down, I fell asleep and dreamed of planting a wooden stake in Vanessa’s cold, dead heart.

  ****

  The phone call came early the next morning. I’d just climbed out of bed when the landline peeled a summons. Caller ID showed Bradford’s office number. I snatched up the receiver. “Hello.”

  “Deena was right. Cash Hitchcock was at Barron’s the other night with a woman.”

  Bradford’s words riveted my attention. “He stayed in town to meet with a local romance author he was interested in signing. His story checks out. I met with the woman, and I can see how Deena was mistaken in the dim lighting. Same height and dark hair.”

  “So Vanessa is still at large?”

  “Yes, no sign of her.”

  I thought of my notes. “Hang on, let me get my notes.” I padded down the hall and into my office, retrieved my notebook and went back into the bedroom. “Still there?”

  “Yes, I’m listening. Go ahead.”

  “Do you know if Peaches Noble and Maylene Lovett are still in town? Or what about Purvis Dupree?”

  “They’re registered in one of the hotels out on I-75. They’ve been questioned and profess to have no knowledge of her whereabouts. They’re leaving this afternoon.”

  I read down the page. “Umm. What about the tire impressions taken at the Maco mansion? Any results?”

  “I’ll check with forensics. Anything else?”

  “The missing manuscript.”

  “I don’t follow.”

  “No manuscript, no book deal. Peaches Noble and Maylene Lovett both had reasons for killing the project. Vanessa had it at the writers’ retreat. She’s missing, along with the manuscript. So that means their secrets are safe.”

  “I think you’re barking up the wrong tree with those two, Jolene.”

  “A reasonable assumption,” I conceded. “Have you checked out Betty’s Durable Power of Attorney?”

  “Yes. Legit.”

  “You sound tired.”

  “I am. Ready to make a change.”

  “Wyoming?”

  “Yeah, had an offer on the ranch this morning.”

&nb
sp; “Gonna accept it?”

  “Yeah, might head out sooner than expected. Can’t leave until I tie up some loose ends though.”

  “Hang in there,” I said with a sad note. “You’ll figure this out. You’re a good cop.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Jolene. Listen, gotta go. Keep your nose clean.”

  With that the line disconnected. I hung up the receiver, started the coffee, and went to take a hot shower—keeping my feelings under tight control. I would not think about Bradford leaving. I would not think about his declaration of love. I would not think about my life without him. I would not.

  Dressed in a cute new number from Chico’s, I downed a quick breakfast of cereal and coffee and headed out the door for work.

  Deena met me at the rear door. “Ryder and I are back on track.”

  “I thought as much when you didn’t return from lunch yesterday.”

  “Did you talk with Sam about Vanessa and her agent at Barron’s?”

  “Yeah, turns out the woman was another writer he wanted to sign. Vanessa still hasn’t been accounted for.”

  “Now what?”

  “I have no idea, Deena. I made a promise to Bradford to stay out of it, and for once, I’m going to keep the promise.”

  She cut me a slanted look. “I’ve heard that before.”

  I held up my right hand. “I swear to mind my own business.”

  We cut our conversation short as the staff and my first client were scheduled to arrive in a few minutes. I worked through the morning and through lunch pausing only for a quick snack of cheese crackers and chocolate milk. The afternoon was pretty much the same as the morning rush, and I was finishing my four o’clock perm when my cell phone jangled. Caller ID displayed the farm landline.

  Excusing myself, I hit the talk button. “Hello.”

  “Jolene, is your mother there with you?”

  “I haven’t seen her all day, Daddy.”

  “Well, she’s been gone for hours, and I thought maybe she stopped by to visit with you girls about Deena’s wedding. She said there’s not enough time to complete the preparations.”

  “That’s nonsense, Daddy. Everything’s done but the small details.”

  “That’s what I told her, honey, but you know how your mother is. She was driving out to Betty’s to drop off a bowl of her homemade chicken and dumplings. But now I’m getting worried about her. She should’ve been home by now.”

  My danger meter sent out a beep, and my stomach clenched at the thought of Mama behind closed doors with a possible kidnapper, or worse, killer. Calm down. Keep a cool head. Don’t jump to conclusions. And for God sakes, don’t upset Daddy any further. Think girl, think. Breathe. Breathe. Good. Now, get more information. “What time did she leave?” I kept my voice relaxed. “Was it in the morning or afternoon?”

  “Around ten this morning, I believe. I was in the barn when she left.”

  I expelled a long breath. “Have you tried her phone?”

  A pause. “Of course, Jolene. I’ve left several messages. Not like her to ignore my calls.”

  “I’m sure she’s been busy and doesn’t recognize the time.” I slowed down my speech. “Don’t worry, Daddy. I’ll track her down and send her home.”

  “Call me when you reach her, honey.”

  “Sure thing, Daddy.”

  I disconnected the line and hit Mama’s contact button. The call went straight to voicemail. I left a message for her to call me or Daddy. Not wanting to alarm Deena unnecessarily, I finished the roller set on my client, put her under the dryer, and made a beeline for Deena’s office.

  She was on the phone when I entered her office. I sank down into a chair across her desk to wait for her to finish her call. My face must’ve shown my concern for two minutes later she placed the receiver on its cradle. “What’s wrong? Not another client in the facial room I hope.”

  “Daddy called. Mama’s not answering her phone.”

  “What’s unusual about that? She can’t hear the ringtone most of the time.”

  Relief washed over me, and I released a tired sigh. “That would explain it. We’re worrying over nothing. I bet she’s on her way home now.”

  “You seem overly concerned, why?”

  “Because she visited Betty van Allen.”

  Deena’s nose scrunched up. “In layman’s terms, please.”

  I filled in the details of my visit with Vanessa’s mother, and my suspicions of her involvement with Careen’s murder and Vanessa’s disappearance.

  “I didn’t think it was possible for me to be surprised by anything you say and do, Jolene, but I am. And now Mama’s in the middle.” Her face showed disapproval.

  “I thought you said we had nothing to worry about?”

  She lifted the receiver from its cradle and punched in a number. “That was before. This is now.”

  “Who are you calling?”

  “Mama.” No answer. She left a message, then redialed.

  “Who are you calling now?”

  “Daddy, to see if Mama’s home.”

  That call turned up the same result. Deena punched in another number.

  “Who now?”

  “Ryder.” Her voice was tense.

  “What for? He doesn’t know where she is.”

  “I’m aware of that, Jolene. To cancel dinner. You and I are going to find her.”

  I waved my hands in protest. “That’s not necessary, Deena. And besides, I have a roller set under the dryer.”

  “For once we’re going to do it my way. Lizzie can finish your appointments. Mama may be in danger.”

  After she hung up with Ryder, there was no talking her out of driving to Betty’s, so we grabbed our purses, made arrangements with Holly to cover my last appointment, and dashed out the rear entrance to see Mama and Billie Jo pull up in Billie Jo’s old Dodge Charger.

  Relieved, Deena and I rushed over to see the Charger’s backseat covered with shopping bags.

  Mama’s eyes sparkled as I drew near her opened window. “Jolene, we hit the jackpot at the mall. Got everything on sale. This will be the best dressed baby in Whiskey Creek.”

  I leaned in the open window. “We’ve been worried sick about you. Daddy called and said you’ve been gone all day and not answering your phone.”

  “That’s my fault, Jolene,” Billie Jo spoke up. “When Mama stopped by the house I mentioned a sale at Augusta’s Baby Shop. We lost track of time.”

  “Well, no harm done.” The tension drained out of Deena’s voice. “Mama, promise you’ll check your phone once in a while from now on.”

  Mama snapped open her phone and scrolled down the missed calls screen. “I guess I should call your father. He’s called five times.”

  “He said you were dropping off chicken and dumplings at Betty’s,” I said, curious if Betty had mentioned my earlier visit.

  “Strange thing that.” Mama glanced up at me. “Sophia claimed Betty wasn’t home, but I swear I heard voices. Sophia put me off, so I handed over the dish of dumplings and left. Odd. I swear I heard voices. Oh well, just an old woman’s imagination.”

  Wrong. For some unknown reason, Mama’s friend was embroiled in Vanessa’s disappearance. Publicity stunt? Could be, but unlikely. My thinking tended to be on the dark side. Money? Without a doubt. But how to prove it? Call Bradford with this new information? I shook my head. No, he’d warn me to stay out of it, or worse, discount Mama’s observations. And what about my vow to stay out of it? I wobbled for a second. Oh, what the hell. One look wouldn’t hurt and might even set my mind at ease. With my brain cells smoking, I kissed Mama and Billie Jo goodbye, told Deena to have a nice evening with her honey, and hopped in my Mustang. I had one destination in mind and burned rubber all the way there.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  The Stakeout

  I parked down the street from Vanessa’s House of the Rising Sun and waited. For what I hadn’t decided, but if the Vampire Queen made an appearance, I’d document th
e activity with my phone and hand over the evidence to Bradford for further investigation. My main purpose for being here continued to be collecting evidence of Vanessa’s continued deceit. This farce had gone on long enough. She was alive. I knew it deep down in my psychic knowing. Funny how that works.

  My gaze roamed the front of the house. From all indications, Betty hadn’t returned home. The house was dark, no lights shone from the windows. The dashboard clock read 5:45. As twilight settled in, the streetlights switched on, but still no movement from the house. An hour crept by and still I waited. By 8:00 I grew impatient. A cop I’m not and sitting alone in the dark wasn’t my idea of a fun evening.

  When the dashboard clock rolled around to 9:00, I decided to stretch my cramping legs and quiet my screaming bladder. Peeing outside wasn’t my first choice, but neither could I knock on the neighbor’s door and request the use of the facilities. No, I had to find a concealed area or go home. The smart move would be to head for the house, but I’m not smart or a quitter, so I decided to find a nice bushy bush and squat.

  I left my vehicle and skirted around the glowing streetlights until I drew abreast of Vanessa’s house. Still no movement from within, but my progress set off the neighborhood canine patrol. Ducking behind the neighbor’s dark house, I found what I was searching for and took care of business.

  Once cleaned, and the wet wipe disposed, I froze as a faint light flared in one of the back windows of Vanessa’s house. I knew it! Someone was moving about. Sophia? Betty? Or the illusive Vampire Queen? At this point, it didn’t matter. Like a coon dog on the scent, I hustled across the yard and wormed along the fence until I spotted a huge, towering pine tree which offered concealment.

  From my position behind the tree I observed another flare of light in the kitchen. Strange behavior for the homeowners. Apparently, the person or persons were slowly making their way to the front of the house. Why the subterfuge? Itching with curiosity, I dashed from tree to bush until I crouched close to the garage. On silent feet, I peeked over the windowsill. With the muted streetlight streaming into the window, I could just make out three figures. Sheriff Snellgrove. Damn, the lying sneak. In on it all along. Betty and Sophia, too.