“You need to stay, Jake.”
“What for?”
“Because I’m asking.” Sam looked over his glasses at Jake. “Give it a few more days, Jake. Call it an old reporter’s hunch, but there’s more going on at Holly Grove.”
* * *
Holly pulled the burlap covering off the coffin. It’d been tough to get it on the four-wheeler trailer and then to the front steps, but she’d managed.
She ran her fingers over the rough pine box Mackie had built the first year Holly Grove opened for business. Since then she’d decorated the house for mourning every October to honor the Holly Grove generations who’d passed on. And Mackie had helped her haul the coffin from the barn into the house.
Jake didn’t seem to be worried about Mackie, but she couldn’t shake her concern. And she couldn’t understand how Jake could cut all ties with his father, though she had a harder time judging Jake after seeing how he’d grown up. No wonder he’d kept her away from his place when they were teenagers.
Mackie did have a drinking problem, but he was a good person, and he’d mellowed through the years. Of course, Jake hadn’t been around to see that.
Holly eyed the eight feet of brick steps that led to the front door. To lighten the load, she lifted the life-size dummy dressed in period costume from the coffin. Eudora’s plain broad face, smeared with make-up, looked at Holly. A smile played at her lips. She’d ordered the doll head online. When it arrived, Nelda had said, “You got the name wrong on this doll. She ought to be You Ugly instead of Eudora.”
Holly sucked in a breath and wished for Nelda’s help and her sense of humor.
“I can do this,” Holly said, as though saying it out loud would make it so.
She pulled one end of the coffin from the rack of her four-wheeler onto the third step, which was parallel to the rack. She stood on the fourth step and dragged the coffin up the steps until it was at a forty-five-degree angle. Sweat beaded on her brow as she gave it her best, but the coffin didn’t budge more than a few inches. Maybe pushing it would be easier than pulling, but she couldn’t let go to get to the other end.
Gravel crunched under tires as Jake’s rental car pulled in the driveway. He unfolded from the car as though it was a bad fit. He gave her a dimpled grin, and she tried to tamp down the schoolgirl excitement that rushed through her.
Then Dog bounded out behind Jake.
Oh, crapola. Holly’s heart thudded as she forced herself to hang on to the coffin rather than run.
A white cone framed Dog’s mug, and a bald patch the size of a pot holder marked his shaggy hindquarter, but he now trotted on all four legs. Either the vet did wonders or the dog had good drugs.
“Why’d you bring him here?” Holly yelled, struggling to hold on to the pine box.
“I’m stuck with the mutt until Mackie shows up.” Jake slammed the car door shut.
Dog shook himself from the tip of his snout to the end of his tail and then fell in step behind Jake.
He jabbed a thumb toward the coffin. “Is that for your ghost?”
“No, but if that dog comes one step closer, I’m going to drop it, and it’ll be kindling.”
The cone around Dog’s neck became her cone of uncertainty as his black eyes zeroed in on her. He sniffed the air, then loped toward her.
Holly shot up, and the coffin slid down the brick steps.
Jake blocked the coffin’s fall with one hand.
She froze. “Jake,” she said in a shaky voice. “The dog.”
“I told you that you needed to make friends with Dog. Where were you going with this, anyway?”
“Inside, on the long table.”
Jake hefted the coffin over his shoulder and hauled it up the stairs. Ignoring Holly, Dog followed Jake. When he opened the door, Rhett shot out like a pit bull ready to fight and snapped at Dog’s heels.
Dog lowered his head and swiped Rhett out of the way with his cone. Rhett spun across the porch planks like a dust mop.
A primal mothering instinct kicked in. Holly snatched Dog by the collar. Now what? If she let go, Dog would take a bite out of her and have Rhett for dessert. She wrapped her hands around his collar in a death grip. Rhett scooted under Dog and between Holly’s legs. Holly lost her balance and her grip when Dog took off after Rhett, heading down the steps and into the yard.
As Holly skidded across the porch on her stomach, Dog closed in on Rhett. She hid her eyes in the crook of her arm. Poor Rhett.
There were barks and growls, then silence.
Laughter rang out from behind her. Holly spun onto her back and glared at Jake.
He bent down and grabbed her hands, then pulled her to her feet. His body shook with laughter as he steadied her with an arm around her waist.
She shoved him away. “What’s so freaking funny?”
He pointed his head behind her and made a halfhearted attempt to cover his smile. She turned. Dog lay on the grass, with a glassy look in his eyes and a bent cone around his neck. Rhett straddled Dog, humping his leg at double time.
“Looks like Dog is a girl.” The dimple in Jake’s cheek deepened with mischief.
“Okay, enough with the animal science.” She blocked her view of the doggy foreplay with her hand. “Can you do something here?”
He walked over and grabbed Dog by the collar. Holly picked up Rhett and held him at arm’s length as she climbed the brick steps at a brisk pace.
“Where can I put Dog?”
She stopped. “What do you mean, ‘put Dog’?”
“Dog has to stay with me until Mackie shows up. If she’s alone too long, she’ll chew her stitches out.”
“I thought that cone kept her from doing that.”
“It’s a deterrent. Not a guarantee.”
“I made a deal for you to stay. Not Dog.” Holly opened the front door and plopped Rhett inside, then closed the door on him.
“I’ll sweeten the pot,” he said, flashing a grin as he released the mutt.
“How?”
Jake thumbed toward the broken windowpane. “I’ll fix that and a few other things that need repair around here, until Mackie gets back.”
Holly thawed a bit. Jake was still covering for his dad like he had in high school, whenever Mackie fell off the wagon. And she did need the help. “I’m not using the chicken coop. She’ll be fine there, but she can’t run loose. I thought she was going to take off one of my legs when I met her, and I’m a dog person. She may scare my guests.”
“Fair enough. She does have to warm up to most people.”
A low growl and the sound of cloth ripping came from the front yard. Eudora’s legs and arms flailed through the air as Dog shook her from side to side.
“Dog!” Jake shouted.
Dog jerked her cone in Jake’s direction, then bounced like a puppy with a chew toy.
Jake eased down the steps with his hands extended. “Give it here, Dog.”
Dog’s tail twitched back and forth. Jake snatched the dummy, and Dog dug her feet into the grass and pulled. A resounding rip tore through the air. Dog shook her half of Eudora as she pranced around the yard like the victor.
“I’ll fix this, too,” Jake said, lifting what was left of Eudora’s head and upper body. Plastic bags dropped with a clump of moss stuffing to the ground.
Holly covered her mouth and sucked in her breath. She’d watched enough CSI to guess that the white powdery stuff was cocaine and the grassy stuff was marijuana. “Burl.”
She bit down on a string of curse words Grandma Rose would have washed from her mouth. If anyone deserved to roast for all eternity, it was him. And I’m supposed to help him get into heaven? Lord, help me.
Jake’s brows framed accusing eyes aimed at her.
She rushed down the steps as more bags dropped from the dummy. “Jake, you’ve got to believe me. I don’t know how that got in there.”
He squatted beside the bags and she knelt beside him. When she reached for a bag, he caught her by the wrist.
“Evidence? I can’t report this. Things just settled down from the Deltas thinking I’d overdosed. The tour. Holly Grove.” Her heart hammered. If she called the police, the smuggler would be anywhere but here. She had to put a face and a name with the drugs to put them away, or she’d never get rid of Burl.
Dog ran past them, dropping Eudora’s lower body. The hair rose on her back as she barked.
Miss Alice’s light blue Cadillac Fleetwood crept up the gravel driveway.
“Crapola.” She looked back at Jake. “Miss Alice can’t see this.” Holly tried to twist free from Jake’s grasp so she could hide the bags. “Please, Jake.”
He held tight.
CHAPTER 12
“Why did you say Burl’s name when you saw the cocaine?” Jake clamped down on her wrists and drilled her with a hard stare. “What do you know about this?”
“Nothing you’d believe.”
“Try me.”
A car door slammed in the distance, and Miss Alice walked to the back of her Fleetwood.
Holly pointed her head toward the Delta. “She has more circulation than the Gazette. If she sees this, my business is ruined.”
A little muscle twitched in Jake’s jaw, as though he was holding back something. “Which one?”
“Holly Grove. The only one I have. Please, Jake. You can’t possibly think . . .” Her voice cracked and her eyes stung, but she held his stare, as if she had nothing to hide and everything to lose. “I believed in you once, when no one else did. You’ve got to believe me.”
His eyes softened before that little muscle relaxed.
“I’ll explain later. I swear,” she pleaded.
“You will or else, and I better not be aiding and abetting.” He released her wrist and nodded toward Miss Alice. “Distract her.”
Holly scrambled to her feet and trotted toward the Fleetwood. Aiding and abetting? The last thing Holly wanted to do was get Jake sucked into this mess, but she couldn’t think about that now. She had to rush to meet Miss Alice at her car. Whatever she wanted, she wasn’t getting today. Holly met Miss Alice as she opened her trunk. An ancient Samsonite wedged between a doctor’s bag and a basket of knitting hinted at why she’d shown up.
“I’m getting the floors refinished in my house, and I can’t stand the smell,” Miss Alice said. “I’m renting a room until they’re finished. Now, get your man over here to carry my luggage.”
“But, Miss Alice, you don’t have a reservation.”
“I called, but I got a recording, and I don’t talk to machines.” Miss Alice looked over her glasses. “Is there any reason you don’t want me to stay here?”
“My ghost?” Holly blurted.
Miss Alice waved Holly off. “I know more dead people than live ones. I am not afraid of a ghost.” She turned toward Jake. “Young man,” she called.
Holly’s stomach knotted as Jake continued to stuff Eudora’s illegal filling into her torso.
Miss Alice glanced back at Holly and huffed. “Is he deaf?” She picked up her basket of knitting, then hooked it over her arm. “Never mind. I’ll get him myself.”
“Wait. The dog. She’s vicious,” Holly said, stepping in front of Miss Alice.
“Vicious? She looks ridiculous. What’s that thing on her head?”
“She had a little surgery. The cone keeps her from chewing out her stitches.”
Miss Alice squinted. “What is your man doing, anyway? Is that—”
“It’s stuffing,” Holly said, keeping an eye on Jake as she grabbed Miss Alice’s arm and towed her toward the back of the house.
Jake glanced over his shoulder as he sped-fed moss stuffing and bags of dope into Eudora.
“I’m talking about the dog. She looks like Mackie’s dog.”
“That’s because she is.”
Miss Alice wheeled around and picked up her pace. “Did the vet give you instructions on how to care for her wound?”
“No, but—”
“Infection can be fatal, you know.”
Holly wrapped her arm around Miss Alice’s to guide her toward the back entrance again. “She’ll be fine.”
Miss Alice stopped short. “I am perfectly capable of walking on my own, and I’m going to check on Mackie’s dog.”
Other than tackling the old gal, there was nothing Holly could do as Miss Alice marched toward Jake and the evidence that could ruin everything.
* * *
Jake’s body blocked their view, but Holly knew he was shoveling cocaine bags in Eudora.
Miss Alice marched toward him like a staff sergeant on inspection. She ignored Jake and the dummy and headed for Dog. If Jake hadn’t dropped Eudora and yanked Dog back, her paws would have landed on Miss Alice’s shoulders. She bent to inspect Dog’s stitches.
A soft sigh slipped from Holly’s mouth as she studied the dummy that concealed the dope. She turned to Jake and mouthed, “Thank you.”
“The vet did a good job, but this wound will need care.” Miss Alice shook her head. “Mackie needs a dog like he needs a hole in his head.” She glanced at what was left of Eudora. “What happened here?”
Holly blocked Miss Alice’s view and then steered her toward the house. “That’s the dummy I use for the haunted tour. Dog mistook her for a chew toy.”
“No discipline in the owner means no discipline in the pet.” Miss Alice looked over at Jake. “My husband’s doctor’s bag is in my trunk. Would you bring it when you get my luggage?”
“Miss Alice, Jake doesn’t work here. He’s a guest,” Holly said.
“I’m sure he is a gentleman, too.”
“We haven’t officially met.” Jake stepped up to Miss Alice. “I’m Jake McCann.”
Miss Alice shook his hand and eyed him up and down. “I met you the day my husband delivered you, and I know the location of every stitch on you.”
“Nurse Fort?” He rubbed the back of his head.
“Retired.” She hefted her knitting basket a little higher. “About twelve stitches from hitting your head on the monkey bars. It took two to hold you down.”
“Yeah, well . . . I hear you know everything that goes on in the parish. I’m filling in for Sam at the Gazette and looking for stories, so keep me in mind.” He shrugged. “You never know. There could be a story right under your nose, if you keep your eyes open.”
Jake cast a sharp glance at Holly, which hit home.
She had some explaining to do, but how?
* * *
Fifteen minutes later, Jake opened the front door and strode in with a suitcase in one hand, a doctor’s bag in the other, and Eudora tucked under his arm like a life-size rag doll.
She couldn’t chance a moment alone with Jake until she got answers from Burl. The tiny lie she’d told Miss Alice about washing her sheets guaranteed she’d park herself downstairs for at least an hour or two. That would give Holly protection from the interrogation she expected from Jake.
Holly stood on a ladder and out of reach as she busied herself decorating the entrance hall for the Haunted Pilgrimage. Part of the decorating included dressing the house for a ritual mourning by covering all the mirrors, including the eight-foot-tall pier mirror in front of her.
Jake glanced from Miss Alice, sitting nearby, to Holly. “Where do you want the dummy?” he asked.
“Lay her in the coffin,” Holly said. “How’d you put her back together?”
He lifted Eudora’s dress. A six-inch band of duct tape, with curls of Spanish moss stuck to it, cinched the dummy’s waist. “Duct tape will fix anything.” He cocked a brow at Holly. “Some of her stuffing had gone bad, though.” His eyes locked with hers.
“What did you do with it?”
He laid Eudora out in the coffin. “I’ll decide later.”
Great. Now he had the dope. If she couldn’t explain it, would he call the police? What if Burl hadn’t put it there? Would whoever had come looking for it?
Miss Alice looked up from her knitting. “You should burn the moss. You know that stuff carries mites.” She eyed the hand she’d used to shake Jake’s earlier. “I’m going to wash my hands.”
Holly couldn’t be alone with Jake for even a minute. “Wait,” Holly said as she backed down the ladder.
Miss Alice disappeared around the corner.
Holly missed her step and teetered on the edge of a fall.
“Careful there,” Jake said, catching her in his arms.
“I’m fine.” She slid down the length of him. Jeez, was there any other way she could get down? By the time her legs reached the cypress floor, they might as well have been pudding.
“What were you doing up there, anyway?”
“Huh? Oh,” she stammered. Just keep talking. Don’t give him a chance to ask questions. “It’s part of dressing the house for mourning.” She looked into the massive pier mirror at Jake. “There’s a superstition that if you don’t cover the mirrors with a black cloth, the spirits of the recently departed will get trapped in the mirrors.”
Jake squinted and stared into the mirror. “What’s that?”
Holly spun around, expecting to see Burl behind her.
Nothing.
Jake whispered in her ear, “You’ve been drinking your own Kool-Aid, sweetheart.”
Every sharp comeback melted from her mind.
“First a ghost and now . . . this. There’s something going on here, and you’ve got some serious explaining to do.”
“I will, but it’s not something I can explain in a few minutes.”
Miss Alice walked back in the room. Thank goodness.
He leaned in and whispered, “Something’s come up at the Gazette, but tonight, when we’re alone, you’ll tell me everything. Or tomorrow there’ll be a special edition of the paper.”
CHAPTER 13
It wasn’t like Holly could ring a dead person up on a cell phone when she needed to talk to him.
Better Dead Page 9