Downright Dead

by Pamela Kopfler

  “His fault.” Angel shot Jake a drop-dead look. “I left because the spirits are restless here. I can’t stay in this environment, but he followed me. He had no right to haul me back here against my will.”

  Holly turned to face Jake. Her brow knitted and her lips parted like she was going to say something, but she didn’t.

  “Remember, the judge deputized me to help out temporarily.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Just following orders.”

  “What orders?” Miss Alice demanded. “You can’t just manhandle a woman like that.”

  “The judge asked everyone to stay put until tomorrow in case he had any more questions.”

  “Yes, he did,” Miss Alice said. “It’s our civic duty since this was a—”

  “Terrible accident.” Mercy. Holly didn’t trust Miss Alice to keep a secret. That may not be possible for her.

  “The sheriff wants to give a full and accurate report of what happened to console Tru’s family,” Jake said.

  “That’s right,” Miss Alice said. “And Holly even waived our room fees for the inconvenience.”

  “I never agreed to stay here another night,” Angel said.

  “You didn’t disagree either.” And he didn’t buy the whole restless spirits in the house thing. That woman was hiding something. “You left and I followed you, and it’s a good thing I did.”

  Angel all but rolled her eyes. “I could have gotten across.”

  Jake shook his head. “Then why did your car flood out right before I pulled you out of the St. Agnes Bayou?”

  “How deep is it now?” Holly asked.

  “About four feet deep just before it meets the highway,” Jake said.

  Holly covered her mouth, but he could see her grin. Why would she be happy about being flooded in with this crew?

  “You had no right to bring me back here and you’ll regret it.” Angel stormed out of the kitchen.

  “Bless her heart.” Miss Alice clicked her tongue. “It’s fools like her I read about in the newspaper every year who drown trying to drive through high water on roads.”

  Jake shucked out of his leather jacket. “No one at Holly Grove or anybody who lives along this dead-end blacktop is going anywhere as long as Bayou St. Agnes is backed up over the road.”

  “It floods every hurricane or frog-strangling rain and sits there for days,” Miss Alice said. “It’s ridiculous the parish doesn’t fix that problem. I’m going to call the mayor in the morning and tell him we almost had a tragedy over the parish’s lack of initiative.” Miss Alice shook her head and pushed on the swinging kitchen door, then turned back to them. “Oh, Sam wanted the bourbon.”

  Holly handed over the bottle, and Miss Alice left.

  “Was wondering if all this had driven you to drink.” Jake winked at Holly.

  “Not yet, but I’m not making any guarantees.” She peeked out the kitchen door, then turned back to Jake. “This is the break we needed.”

  “Break?” Jake didn’t like the sound of being marooned at Holly Grove being a break.

  “Yes. Burl made a deal with the gatekeeper in Hell to trade the name of whoever killed Tru to erase his name from the book of the damned. If no one can leave, I can figure this out. I can free Tru and make things right.”

  “Maybe Tru needs to make things right. Whoever did this may not blink an eye at killing again. This could be dangerous.”

  “Maybe, but I couldn’t live with myself if Tru goes to Hell because I got him involved by lying about still having a ghost. You know lying is a sin. If I don’t save Tru, could my name be added to the list?”

  “You’re going to get in the middle of this no matter what, aren’t you?”

  “If I saved Burl, I can save Tru. I think I’ve found my calling.”

  “I think you’re in over your head.”

  * * *

  Holly now knew she’d been given a gift and a curse. Jake has no confidence in me, but I’m going to prove him wrong or earn an orange jumpsuit trying.

  Either way, Angel had told Tru he’d be dead soon. Holly needed to know all she could about Angel. Why had she made that prediction? Why was she so desperate to get away from Holly Grove? And did she have an alibi for her whereabouts when Tru flew off the widow’s walk?

  Holly took a fortifying breath outside Angel’s door. She carried a tray that held her peace offering of PB&Js, a cup of hot chocolate, one of Nelda’s pralines tucked in a wax-paper sleeve, and a bag of sage.

  “Turndown service,” Holly called through the door.

  No answer. Had Angel slipped away again? But where could she go?

  Holly put the tray down and pulled her master key out of her pocket. She knocked. “Housekeeping.”

  Still silence. Holly unlocked the door, then opened it a crack. “Angel, are you in here?”

  Holly pushed the door open and stepped into the dark room. She flipped the light on. The bed was made and Angel’s wet clothes hung from all four posts on the rice planter’s bed. The bathroom door was open. The cord to the blow dryer was strung across the lavatory like Angel had a death wish. A couple of towels lay in a pile in the corner. “Angel?”

  Holly eased into the bathroom. The luxury bathrobe she kept on a hanger on the back of the door was gone. So were the washable slippers that should have been in the basket near the pedestal lavatory.

  Huh. Wherever she was she’d be wearing a bathrobe and slippers. She had to be somewhere in the house.

  Holly eyed the French doors to the balcony. Aha.

  She scampered across the room and flung the doors open. A blast of damp winter air bit her as she stepped outside on the empty balcony.

  Crapola. Where is she? I’m really not in the mood for hide-and-seek.

  A light fog floated from Holly’s mouth as she rubbed her arms to fight off the cold. The scent of smoke drifted to her nose. She sniffed. Not cigar smoke. Cigarette smoke.

  A memory flashed in her mind. A plastic evidence bag. Three lipstick-stained cigarette butts. She’d seen the baby-faced deputy carry it down from the widow’s walk.

  Holly took off for the widow’s walk. Her heart beat like a locomotive as she eased the door open under the cupola on the widow’s walk. The overcast night sky blocked out the moon and stars to almost total darkness. She sniffed the air. Cigarette smoke? Or was that something else?

  As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, a figure came into focus. A woman with long black hair sat cross-legged, facing away from Holly. Angel?

  A faint glow from in front of Angel cast a yellowish light, framing her as a dark silhouette. She held her hands, palms up, out from her sides almost like an Egyptian princess.

  “Angel?” Holly whispered.

  She didn’t answer.

  “It’s not safe up here.” Holly took a tentative step onto the widow’s walk. Her stomach swirled with anxiety.

  Everything told her not to get any closer. Angel could be dangerous. Holly chewed on a fingernail.

  But what can I do? Call Jake or Buster and say Angel is on the roof and won’t come down? Would that get the answers I needed?

  Holly swallowed hard. She was a little taller than Angel, but with those curves she probably outweighed Holly. Could she fight Angel off if she needed to?

  Lordy. I’m borrowing trouble. Even if she pushed Tru off the widow’s walk, why would she want to do me in? Especially if I pretend to be on her side, and maybe I am. We both lost when my ghost didn’t show up. Strap on your Teflon big-girl panties and talk to her.

  “I’m worried about you,” Holly said as she inched out onto the widow’s walk.

  Angel didn’t move.

  Holly crept forward until she was parallel to and about six feet from Angel.

  Eyes closed, Angel sat still. If not for the tiny puffs of foggy air escaping from her nose, Holly would swear the woman wasn’t breathing. Was she in one of her trances?

  One of Nelda’s small iron skillets sat in front of Angel. Embers glowed in the skillet and smoke cur
led into the night air, drifting into the darkness. Nelda would be none too pleased if she found out what Angel had done with her skillet. Holly sniffed the air again. What was that, sage? Was this some sort of yoga meditation for mediums or what?

  “I’ve been looking for you,” Holly said, trying to sound casual.

  “You are not the only one.” Angel’s voice came out smooth and calm. She didn’t open her eyes.

  “Who else is looking for you?”

  Angel scooted to the side of the skillet and faced Holly. “I think you know.”

  “Tru?” Holly hated to say his name for fear of calling him back. “Did you see him, too?”

  Angel pulled a mottled cigarette out of her robe pocket and a box of kitchen matches.

  Holly squinted. That box looked very familiar. No telling what kind of snooping around Angel had done while Holly wasn’t looking.

  With the cigarette between her lips, Angel struck a match, then held it to the tip of the slender cigarette until it glowed red. She tilted her head back and took a deep drag. The smoke billowed out in a long cone as Angel stared at the sky. “He thinks I pushed him off the roof.”

  “Really? He thinks I did it, too.”

  “The truth is if he’d posted that video without any context, it would have gone viral. You, me, Sylvia, we’d all be known as scam artists worldwide. We all had reason to make sure that didn’t happen.”

  “There are other ways besides pushing the guy off from up here.”

  Angel took another drag. “Some people aren’t very creative.”

  “I didn’t know you smoked.”

  “Closet smoker.” She took another drag. “It relieves stress. I’m overly sensitive to the emotions of spirits, and most of the time they’re stressed.”

  “Ghosts stress me, too,” Holly said, trying to find mutual ground. “Did you smoke after the epic-fail séance?”

  “Yes, but I didn’t push Tru off the roof. His aura had deteriorated so fast after the séance, I knew he may not make it through the night. I came up here to tell him he needed to be careful or maybe even go to a hospital and get checked out.”

  Holly remembered Angel had warned him about his aura before the séance, but Holly had no idea how prophetic that was at the time. “What did he say?”

  “He said, and I quote, ‘You’re full of it.’”

  “Sounds like Tru.”

  Angel gave a hollow laugh. “Oh, that’s not all. He asked me how much it would cost to fix it.”

  “Can you do that?”

  “Unfortunately, no.” She lowered her thick lashes and thumped the ash off her cigarette in Nelda’s skillet. “If I could do that I would have never lost anyone I loved.”

  “What did you tell him?”

  “That only he could change his life path, but he needed to do it soon. He said his life path was going to be just fine as soon as his video, debunking ‘The Ghost in the Grove,’ Inquiring Minds, and me, went viral. The only thing that could change that path was a big fat check.”

  “How much?”

  “I didn’t ask because I wasn’t willing to pay. I’m up front about my services. It’s all over my website. I never guarantee a ghost to show up or that I can get rid of one. All I can do is help listen when they speak and share that with those who cannot hear them.”

  “Do you think you were the last person to see Tru alive?”

  “When I left him on the widow’s walk his aura was paper thin, but he was alive.”

  “Did you see anyone on the stairs or in the hallway when you left?”

  Angel shook her head. “But when I was packing my bag, I heard a door slam across the hall.”

  That would be my room . . .

  “And then I heard footsteps running down the hall.” Angel snuffed out her cigarette. “I hear they found your missing slipper up here, but who am I to judge?”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Sam had told Jake that he was nuts to sleep in a dead man’s room before the body was cold, but Jake needed to stay in the main house. The judge had deputized him to keep the peace in the event Tru’s accident was no accident. Holly may see ghosts, but he didn’t, usually, and what he couldn’t see wouldn’t bother him.

  Then why was he still awake before dawn? He stretched and rubbed his back against the spindly chair he didn’t trust with his weight. He’d pushed it up to a fairly solid table next to the bed. People back in the 1800s must have been smaller. Holly did a good job of keeping Holly Grove authentic, but he wished for a regular old hotel desk tonight. He’d reviewed all the statements collected by the deputies and had narrowed the suspects down to four, excluding Holly—Buster’s main suspect.

  Jake yawned and looked at the bed. He’d put those fresh sheets on himself after St. Agnes’s finest had combed the room for evidence and secured Tru’s belongings. He yawned again. Fresh sheets, but still a dead man’s bed.

  He hadn’t believed Holly a few months ago when she’d told him her B&B was haunted by her dead husband, but he wouldn’t make that mistake this time. He’d believed Holly when she told him Tru had come back from the dead as a ghost and that his fall was no accident. Too bad Tru didn’t get a look at the guy or gal who pushed him. This would all be over by now.

  Jake had researched the likely suspects after reviewing their statements and still didn’t have a gut feeling about who the perp may be. There was only so much he could tell by reading the reports. So far, Angel was the only one with motive and a weak alibi. Her determination to flee the scene of the crime didn’t make her look innocent either.

  A light tap sounded on the door.

  Any reason for knocking on his door at this time of night could be trouble. He slipped his shoulder holster back on and dashed for the door, then cracked it open.

  Two big blue eyes framed by familiar wild curls stared back at him. “Did I wake you?”

  She was trouble all right but worth every bit of it. He swung the door open and Holly stepped into his room. That would have been a dream come true back in high school. “Nah.”

  “Wow.” She pointed to his holster. “What’s with the gun?”

  “Habit.” He lied. “I’m legal, so why not? According to you and Tru, we have a murderer on the premises.”

  “Shh.” Holly held her finger to her lips, then closed the door behind her. “I’m trying not to panic the guests, but I feel guilty for not letting them know what happened tonight wasn’t an accident. If I say anything, whoever killed Tru will be tipped off we know. That’s why I can’t sleep.”

  Jake yawned. How could she talk this much at this hour? “You can sleep in here if you’re scared.”

  “Like I’d get any sleep here. Besides, I’m not scared. Whoever did this to Tru was after him because of what he did. Heck, Buster thinks I did it for the same reason.”

  Jake yawned again. She needed to wind down. “Have you been drinking coffee?”

  “Hot chocolate.” Holly gave a sheepish grin. “Nelda’s homemade hot chocolate probably has more caffeine than coffee.”

  “You really need to get some sleep.”

  “But I wanted to tell you that I talked to Angel. She admitted to being on the roof with Tru after the séance, but I don’t think she did it.”

  “She didn’t say she’d been on the roof in her statement.” Jake walked over to his makeshift desk and pulled up her statement on his computer.

  “Are people always truthful in their statements?”

  “Usually, unless they have something to hide or just don’t remember correctly.” He read over her statement. “Says here she was in her room packing when she heard a scream.”

  “Holy moly.” She leaned over his shoulder. “You’ve got everyone’s statements. How did you get all this?”

  “I told you the judge made me a temporary deputy on this case. It’s a perk. The judge is one savvy lawman. I’m here to protect the innocent and investigate a death under suspicious circumstances on the QT.”

  “I thought he was conv
inced it was an accident.”

  “He’s convinced Buster will overreach and spook the perpetrator and the public. I’m assigned special duty here to keep an eye on the investigation and you.”

  “Me?” She put her hand to her chest and blinked. “He doesn’t think I—”

  “Killed Tru?” She caught Jake with her deep blues. Those eyes were dangerous all right, but not like that. “Under these conditions he thinks you need supervision.”

  She huffed. “Seriously?”

  “Do I need to list what happened the last time you decided to investigate on your own?”

  “Hey.” A blond curl rested on her forehead. He resisted the urge to tousle the rest of her curls. Why did he think she was so darned cute? “Results count more than method.”

  “If you live to tell it,” he said and meant it.

  She pointed to the laptop. “Give me the lowdown on the statements.”

  “Will you go get some sleep if I do?”

  “Promise,” she said, crossing her heart.

  “It’s mostly a string of alibis.” He tapped the screen. “Sylvia was with Bob reviewing the footage in his room.”

  “Where was Liz?” The delicate skin between her eyes pinched together. “She’s the producer. It seems like she should have been there, too.”

  “It says here that she was breaking down the equipment in the dining room.”

  “What about Thomas?”

  “According to his statement, he was on his computer in his room.”

  “Hmm.” She pushed a curl behind her ear. “Let me see Angel’s statement.”

  He scrolled to Angel’s statement.

  Holly leaned over his shoulder and read from the screen. “Where were you at 12:40 a.m.?” She squeezed Jake’s shoulder. “Seriously, who knows where they were at an exact time, unless they have an appointment or something?”

  “Some people do.” Responsible people do.

  “All she said was she was in her room packing. I’m pretty sure she was in her room though, because she heard me slam my door on the way to the roof after I smelled Tru’s cigar smoke. In away, she confirms her own alibi by hearing my door slam and me running down the hall. She wouldn’t have heard that outside the house and two floors up. She couldn’t have been on the widow’s walk when Tru took that dive.”