Betty ducked into the car and popped the truck. Then the three disappeared back inside the mudroom door. With the muted streetlight and weak light from the trunk, I had a good view of the entire garage. Several seconds passed before Snellgrove and Sophia emerged from the house struggling with what could only be a cloth-wrapped body.
Hell’s bells. I gasped several breaths to stay quiet, images of my cold, dead body flashed through my mind at the thought of discovery. Trembling, I fell to the ground, clutching my shaking hands to my chest. Sweat beaded on my brow and lip in the cool night air as my legs muscles tightened—ready for flight as my danger meter screamed at me to run like hell.
Now on automatic, I withdrew the Pink Panther from my shoulder bag and snapped off the safety. A sense of unreality settled over me as I crouched under the window and heard voices over the roaring in my ears. Self-preservation kept me still and quiet. Reason had fled at the sight of the shrouded body. As my breathing slowed, a sense of judgement returned. As long as I remained hidden from the occupants of the house, I was safe. But only if I escaped detection. One peep could sound the alarm.
My swirling thoughts settled on Michael Halsey’s cloth-wrapped body. It had to be him since he, too, was missing. Although I hadn’t physically seen Vanessa that night in the Maco mansion, I had seen Michael gagged and beaten. Powers of deduction pointed at him. Careen’s brother had stumbled onto the truth and had paid the ultimate price.
Loud whispers snapped me back to the situation, and placing my shoulder bag on the ground, I again peered over the edge of the window to see Snellgrove and Sophia shove Michael’s body into the truck. From the house, another figure emerged and slipped into the driver’s seat. The other two quickly followed, and the rumble of the garage door opening signaled their departure.
I dropped to the ground and fumbled for my purse, dumping out the contents in my haste. Fearing discovery, I halted my search, and waited for the taillights to indicate their departure. As the garage door rumbled downward, I snatched up my shoulder bag and made my way back to my car.
As I climbed in, I could just make out the disappearing taillights down the street. Firing up the engine, I trailed behind them at a safe distance. Once I knew for certain their destination, I would alert Bradford of my discovery. I dogged them all the way to the Maco mansion.
Another surprise. What’s up with this crumbling house? Returning to the scene of the crime made no sense at all. Surely, they didn’t intend to bury the body in the backyard. Confused with the implications, I killed the engine and waited for their next move.
From my parallel parking spot down the road, I observed the car pull around to the dilapidated garage in the back of the house. From the shadows, Sophia got out and opened the double doors and the car pulled inside. Moments later, four figures emerged with the shrouded body sandwiched between them.
Four! I’d only seen three at the house. The fourth figure had to be Vanessa van Allen. Victory surged through me. I’d found her. My shoulder bag lay in the passenger seat. Snatching it up, I dug around for my phone, but came up empty-handed. Christ. I’d lost my phone back at Vanessa’s. What to do?
Get the hell outta here.
Get the evidence.
Hell no.
My hand reached for the ignition. The engine fired up and I circled the block, all the while my indecision beating the crap out of me. Finally, just to shut up the screaming voices in my head, I circled back to the house and parked in the shadows. Just one look in the windows. That’s all. Promise. Slipping out of the car, I skirted around the neighboring houses until I reached the Maco house. Front or back?
Front. More light and closer to my V8 300 horsepower get-away car. Armed with the Pink Panther, I eased behind a line of overgrown bushes flanking the front windows, and peered inside. Nothing. Not a sound, no movement in the semi-dark house. Ducking down, I repeated the action with the entire downstairs windows, and found nothing. If I hadn’t seen them with my own eyes, I would’ve swear they had disappeared into thin air. Impossible. There was only one sensible thing left to do—go home and call Bradford on the landline.
You could check out the inside.
Hell no.
Coward. You have a gun.
True, but only one life to live, so can it.
I retraced my steps, stopping only to peek inside the garage. Car still there. Faint voices echoed from the house. Fearful of being discovered, I ducked down behind a tall azalea bush beside the garage and held my breath. The voices drew near, and the garage door creaked open. Seconds later the car fired up and backed out with its lights out. I peeked through the bush to see the car disappear around the corner.
As the stillness of the night settled around me, I emerged from my hiding place, and glanced around in the semi-darkness. I was alone at the back of the Maco mansion. The cloudless November sky had a million stars overhead. The half-moon face gave a shimmery, silver glow highlighting the small backyard. Should I explore the creepy, abandoned mansion, or hightail it back to safety?
I decided to let the house answer the question. If the back French doors were unlocked, I’d try my luck. If not, I’d head to the house and call Bradford. Crossing my fingers that the doors were locked, I crossed the yard and jangled the doors. Locked. Whew. Homeward bound in one piece for a change.
I spun on my heels, took several steps, and heard a soft click. I froze in my tracks, and slowly glanced over my shoulder at the opened French door. Crap. A wave of cold moved through me, and immediately I cranked up my psychic radar for any unseen visitors from the netherworld. On the edge of my vision, a white mist twisted into the shape of a young woman in a long, pale blue, flowing, turn of the century gown. Not Scarlett. Too young and blonde.
Our eyes locked. She pointed to the house, and slowly dissipated. Okay, I was going in. Scared, but determined, I tiptoed through the French door, and sent out an urgent SOS to Scarlett, hoping she’d join me, anxious to share my recent exploits with my BFF.
The silence of the house closed around me as I crept through each downstairs room searching for the hidden corpse because I knew it had to be here. Why else would Vanessa and her band of cohorts return to this particular house? Who and where was the owner? There had to be a connection. I knew it. One of the first things I’d look into in the morning.
At the foot of the staircase, I paused, frustrated with the lack of sufficient light. So far I’d turned up nothing because I couldn’t see in the dark. This was a waste of time, and I needed to get out of here before they returned. Bradford and his team could comb the area better than I. As before, a wave of cold hit me between the shoulders, and my ears buzzed with cosmic electricity. That followed with faint notes similar to my front doorbell.
“I came as soon as I received your message.” Scarlett’s voice echoed softly in the carnivorous room. “I just returned from Scotland where a mulish lord refused to leave his crumbling castle for the delights of Heaven. But I outsmarted him with a tasteful display of twin treats. After that, he followed me like a lovesick puppy dog. You know, Jolene, I believe I’ll request a transfer, too. All this work and no play is unfair. I deserve a vacation.”
She materialized in front of me garbed in her biker threads, minus the leather vest. I understood at once. The wet T-shirt left nothing to the imagination. No wonder the Scottish lord almost swallowed his tongue. Scarlett didn’t own a bra, and her nipples stood out like twin headlight beams. I pulled my gaze from her not-so-tasteful display, which I left unsaid because I needed her help, and pointed at the stairs. “Be a dear and have a looksee for a shrouded corpse up there for me.”
Scarlett cocked a questioning brow. “I believe some background information would be helpful.”
“Listen up.” I cast a darting glance about me. “I witnessed the Vampire Queen and her minions carry Michael Halsey’s dead body in here not more than thirty minutes ago.”
“Impossible. I told you Vanessa’s name is on the list.”
“F the li
st. It’s wrong. I saw her.”
“I saw the list. She’s there.”
“The damn list is wrong, Scarlett, and so are you. Michael Halsey is dead. Now go find him.”
“I don’t take kindly to your tone of voice, Jolene.” A white light surrounded her, pulsating wildly. “Or taking orders from a ditzy broad.”
I relaxed my stance, and softened my voice. “I’m sorry, Scarlett. I’m petrified and ready to mind my own business.”
“Then why don’t you?”
“Because I’m a ditzy broad with emotional issues.” I dragged my hand through my hair, ruffling the braid. “And Bradford is moving to Wyoming.”
“Is that code for something?”
I blew out an exasperated breath. “Never mind. Are you going to help me?”
“I’m still here, aren’t I?”
With Scarlett lit up like a flashlight, I followed her up the staircase and down the hall, my footsteps clattering on the hardwood. Every room was searched thoroughly, but turned up no bodies. Nothing. Not even disturbed dust on the empty room floors.
Downstairs, another search was repeated. Nothing. Ready to call it a night, I stashed the Pink Panther in my shoulder bag when the mysterious lady in blue materialized by the French doors.
“I heard Annabelle Maco was on her yearly sabbatical down here,” Scarlett said.
I eyed the beautiful ghost. “She knows something. See if you can get her to talk.”
“I think not. She doesn’t like me or my wardrobe. Thinks it’s tacky.”
“It is, Scarlett, but so what? Give it a try.”
Scarlett shrugged her ghostly shoulders and joined Annabelle by the French doors. After a short chat, the Lady in Blue dissipated and Scarlett joined me.
“The rumor is true. She doesn’t like me but she does you. Said you have the heart of a lion. Go figure. Anyway, the body’s in the cellar.”
I swallowed back the lump in my throat. “Okay, lead the way.”
The cellar turned out to be a spider’s paradise. Cobwebs hung from the ceiling and draped every surface. Following in Scarlett’s wake, I dodged one after another, and bit my lip to keep from screaming when the tarantula-sized creatures scurried underfoot. Several minutes passed before I spotted the shrouded body stashed under a worktable in the far corner of the spooky room.
“I assume you’ll want to check the identity of the body?” Scarlett voiced.
“That’s why we’re here.” My feet remained glued to the cement floor, the odor of death nearly choking me.
“Well, I’m not going to do it. This is your party.”
Reluctantly, I crouched down on the dusty floor and tugged the cloth until it loosened and fell away from the body. I let out a scream and stumbled back in surprise. “Oh, my god, Scarlett. It’s not Michael Halsey. It’s Vanessa, and she’s wearing the ruby ring!”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner?
“Calm down, Jolene, and tell me everything.” Bradford’s tense voice echoed over the landline. “I can’t understand your hysterical ramblings. Now, start at the beginning.”
I inhaled several deep breaths and sank down on the kitchen chair, my hands trembling. The clock over the stove read 1:00 a.m. “I found Vanessa, Bradford. She’s at the Maco mansion. In the cellar.” I popped up from the chair and paced the floor from the stove to the pantry. Back and forth, back and forth. “She’s wearing the ruby ring I told you about. God, the look on her face.”
“Where are you now?”
“In the kitchen.”
“Get out of there now.”
“My kitchen, Bradford. As soon as I found Vanessa, I got the hell outta there.”
“Good. Listen, I’m going to get dressed and ride over there…wait, there’s a call coming through on my cell”—there was a clunk of the receiver being laid on the counter, the sound of murmured voices, and finally—“That was the chief. The Maco mansion is on fire. I’ve gotta run, Jolene. I’ll call you when I know something.”
The line disconnected, and I sank down onto the chair with despair. Two steps forward and one step back. Why did this keep happening? Just when I think the case is cracked, another stick is thrust in the fan, throwing everything out of kilter. Tango tangled himself under my feet, purring loudly, bringing my attention to the coziness of my warm kitchen. Gazing around, I drank in the familiar orange-and-white checkered curtains above the sink, the white oak cabinets with oiled bronze knobs, the stainless steel appliances, and autumn-colored braided country rug under my Granny Tucker’s antique scratched oval wooden table and chairs. The bright orange seat cushions Mama had made in her sewing room out at the farm. Clean and shining wood floors, and lastly, the farm painting Becky had painted her last year of high school—hanging in its place of honor near the door. My favorite room in the house. Always warm and inviting like my Granny Tucker. Even now, I could imagine the sweet aroma of Grandpa Tucker’s pipe tobacco filling the room and my heart with the peace of his comforting presence.
I yawned sleepily, but knew the instant my eyes closed, the image of Vanessa’s still, white face would haunt me. To stay awake, I made a pot of coffee and defrosted a batch of cinnamon rolls from the bakery. My stomach rumbled, and I realized I hadn’t eaten since lunch. With a steaming cup of coffee I sat down at the table, munched on a roll and waited for Bradford’s call, which I suspected wouldn’t come for several hours yet. With a full stomach, I dozed off at the table. The shrilling telephone woke me at five.
“Hey, it’s me,” Bradford said when I answered. “The house is a total loss. Went up like dry tinder the fire chief said. They’ll conduct a search as soon as the fire is completely out and environmental services allows a search.”
“How long will that take?”
“Can’t answer that question.”
“What now?”
“I’m going to head over to Vanessa’s house and talk with Betty.”
“My phone is somewhere in the backyard Bradford, if you wouldn’t mind finding it for me.”
“I’ll see what I can do. Anything else?”
“Yeah, who owns the Maco property?”
“A Greenwood county resident. Mrs. Hazel Jessup is listed with the tax office. I’m going to pay her a visit as soon as I’m finished with Betty.”
“Do you know the cause of the fire?”
“You know I can’t give you an answer. It’s under investigation.”
“There’s a connection with that house, Bradford. I know it. Let me know when you find Vanessa, okay?”
“Will do. Now, you’re out of this investigation. Get on with your normal life and forget about this whole sorry mess. I never should’ve drawn you into it in the first place.” His tired sigh sounded over the line.
“I’ve done all I can anyway.” I disconnected the line. Wide awake, I took a hot shower and sat down with my notebook to jot down my conversation with Bradford. Then I fed the cat, cleaned the kitchen, and caught up on household chores before leaving for work.
I spent a busy morning behind the chair, and at lunch made a quick run to the Second Street Maternity Boutique to pick up a gift certificate for Billie Jo. I overspent, but felt better for neglecting her this past week, and the certificate should put a significant dent in her wardrobe needs. After that, I swung by several cell phone outlets to comparison shop the newest models in case my phone was gone for good.
The afternoon sped by much the same as the morning. I cut, colored, and permed my way to exhaustion, and by five, I was ready for the cocktail hour. Holly flagged me down as I was carrying an armload of dirty towels to the laundry room. “Dr. Preston is on the phone.”
I handed over the towels and picked up the receiver. “Hello.”
“You’re a hard lady to track down. I’ve been calling your cell phone all day.”
“I lost my phone and haven’t replaced it yet. What’s up?”
“You owe me a dinner date, remember. Let’s drive down to Valdosta and h
ave a nice steak dinner.”
Steak sounded heavenly, and a quiet night with no murders or ghosts sounded even better. “I’d love to spend the evening with you, Preston.”
“Great. I’ll pick you up at seven.” His voice deepened. “Be prepared to be swept off your feet, woman. I have an important question to ask you.”
My stomach clenched at the unspoken words underneath his seductive tone. Christ. My uncomplicated dinner date had just turned complicated. Twisting the phone cord around my finger, I said a polite goodbye and placed the receiver on its cradle.
Deena came out of her office and made a beeline for the reception desk. “Ryder and I have an appointment with the caterer at six. I’d like you there if you have no other plans. The wedding is closing in and I need to tie up loose ends.”
“Preston and I are driving down to Valdosta,” I said.
“You don’t sound enthusiastic.”
“He has an important question to ask me.”
Deena laid her hand on my arm. “What’s going on, Jolene, besides the ghost in the facial room? I know you’re helping Sam with a case, but you haven’t been yourself lately.”
“Bradford loves me.”
“What?” Deena’s high-pitched screech brought several employees on the run, their expressions one of concern. One of the lingering clients glanced up from Lizzie’s chair, her face beaming with curiosity.
“It’s all right. Nothing to worry about,” I assured them, then propelled Deena into her office, and shut the door.
She plopped down in her desk chair and shot me a huge grin. “When did this happen, and why haven’t you said anything?”
I sank down in a chair across her. “It just happened, and I don’t want to deal with it. Can we drop it, please?”
She nodded. “I’m here when you want to talk.”
A Dead Pig in the Sunshine Page 21