Pecan Pies and Dead Guys

by Angie Fox

  “Too much,” Frankie gasped, sinking down into his seat.

  We weren’t going to make it. The ghost was too strong.

  Ellis gunned down the side road, the car bouncing wildly.

  “We need to get off the property,” I pleaded. With any luck, that would weaken the dominant ghost.

  “Fastest way,” Ellis said, turning hard onto another side road, the car sliding, tires spinning.

  I wasn’t cut out for this. I held onto the dash with all I had.

  “Buckle up,” Ellis insisted, not taking his eyes off the road.

  I wasn’t about to tie myself to this car with claws coming through the ceiling and leaving scratches down the side. This was a big property and we had made a giant mistake.

  “Verity,” Ellis barked.

  The car had stopped shaking.

  “Belt. On. Now.”

  The cloud behind us appeared lighter.

  “Holy heck!” Frankie pounded on the back of my seat. “We’re losing him!”

  The air felt lighter. I could breathe a little easier. In fact, I couldn’t stop drawing short, quick breaths. I reached for the seatbelt, my fingers numb as I yanked it around me and fiddled with the clasp.

  The tendrils above me withdrew. The weight on top of the car lifted.

  “Way to go, fuzz!” Frankie barked.

  Ellis kept going. He turned onto the rural route by the peach orchard.

  “We lose him?” Ellis asked, zipping over the blacktop.

  Smooth road. At last. I tried to take a deep, slow breath. It didn’t work. My heart was still jumping all over the place, and my lungs demanded more air than deep and slow would give them.

  “Let me check.” I swiveled to look behind us and saw only the darkened road, the trees rising up on both sides. “Yes.” I closed my eyes for a moment. “I think we’re okay.”

  I couldn’t believe it.

  The gangster laid his head back, his arms stretched out over the backseat, like he was sleeping, or shot.

  “Frankie, are you okay?”

  He raised his head. “That was…fantastic!”

  He had to be kidding me.

  “Did you see that?” He popped up off the seat, leaning forward with bright eyes. “Did you see me back that bastard off with a gut full of lead?” He slapped the now-solid ceiling. Now that’s what I call a getaway!” He leaned back. “Ahh…” he mused. “Why don’t we do this more often?”

  “Because it’s terrifying,” I snapped, more in control of my body but not quite there with my emotions yet. I felt like a bunny rabbit who had gotten an unexpected reprieve from a fox by falling down a hole. The fox was still there, but at least it couldn’t reach me right now.

  “I always make it.” Frankie grinned. “Except for the time I got shot,” he added with a frown. “I ever tell you about my first getaway?” He leaned forward again. “You never forget your first time. We hit up a bank right before they were gonna move their money. That’s always the best time,” he added, as if I were looking for tips. “Suds dressed as an armored car driver, only he loaded the money in my Packard. That car was a beauty—a twin six model with the souped-up engine. We had three cop cars on our tail before we cleared the block.” He threw his hands up. “Bullets flying everywhere. I drove. Icepick Charlie had the tommy gun, and when it jammed, I thought we were done for. We ended up having to drive our car into a river to shake ’em, but we made it, and the money dried just fine.”

  “That’s great,” I said. My ears were listening, but my brain didn’t want to process what he was saying. We had a problem now—a big one. The dominant ghost, whoever it was, was onto me. He or she knew I’d been snooping around in that room, and whether it was up on what I’d found or not, pursuing me out of the building was a clear sign that it wasn’t willing to forgive and forget. How could I continue to investigate if I couldn’t even enter the house? What would Inspector De Clercq say?

  I sank back against the headrest and groaned. “The inspector’s not going to be happy.”

  “He wanted us to find something and we did,” Frankie said. “That’s gotta make up for him canning me after I lit the booze on fire.”

  Wait. “He fired you?”

  “To be fair, it was a big fire,” Frankie said. “Trouble is, I think he might arrest me now.” The gangster cringed. “He said something about a warrant and imprisonment at your place.”

  I closed my eyes. “No.” This was precisely what we didn’t want to happen.

  “But now we figured out something important,” he insisted. “The guy’s been after a new lead for almost a century. It took us one night.”

  “Two,” I corrected.

  “He’s gotta hire me back on now,” Frankie continued.

  Maybe. I’d cling to that.

  “We make a good team,” I told him.

  The gangster nodded. “I gotta say, we ain’t so bad. De Clercq needs to be more creative in his investigating. Like I told him: When I say I can do something, I do it. No pussyfooting around.”

  That was the truth.

  Ellis let up on the gas once we turned onto the highway. “Tell me what happened back there,” he said, running a hand through his short dark hair, making a ruffled mess of it.

  I laid my hand on his forearm, squeezing gently. “It was dangerous,” I admitted. “I didn’t realize how dangerous it would be when I started. But it was worth it.” I was alive and mostly unhurt, apart from a few bruises, and the ghost hadn’t caught Ellis or Frankie either. And De Clercq, well, he’d have to work with us now. With me. “I think I might have discovered something big.”

  Ellis’s shoulders relaxed at that. “Well, that’s good,” he huffed lightly. “No sense getting in trouble over nothing.”

  Now he sounded like Frankie.

  “I’m sorry if I pulled you out of an important conversation when I came running at you,” I added.

  Highway lights flickered over us, illuminating his drawn features. “It’s fine. Duranja and I were just repeating ourselves at that point.” He paused for a minute, then said, “We uncovered the dead girl’s identity. Her name was Maya Ramirez. She was from California. Her family lives in Los Angeles.”

  “Poor thing.” I thought back to the family I’d seen in that picture. At least they’d have closure.

  Ellis gave a quick nod. “Duranja talked to them. None of them have any idea what Maya Ramirez was doing in Sugarland. According to her parents, she had no friends here, no family.” He glanced at me. “There’s no obvious reason for her to be here, so why? How?” He shook his head. “I’m missing a big piece of this puzzle, and I’m not sure how to find it.”

  “I don’t know.” I wished I could think of a way to help. I could tell from the tension in his shoulders and the fatigue in his face that this was weighing on him. He didn’t have the answers he needed, but he wouldn’t let it go until he did. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

  “I will,” he vowed. “Eventually.” He blew out a breath. “Tell me more about your case. What happened tonight?”

  Hoo-boy. What didn’t happen? “Well…” I didn’t want to go into too much detail when it came to what had happened upstairs. There was nothing Ellis could do to make it any easier, and he’d already seen enough to worry him. Still, I wanted to be honest. “It turns out the victim was staying in a room inside the mansion, so I went to check it out while Frankie kept the rest of the party distracted.”

  “I was brilliant.” Frankie planted his elbows on the seat between Ellis and me and leaned straight through the metal police screen so that his head was in between us. “Go on, tell him I was brilliant.”

  “He did a great job.”

  “Great job is not brilliant,” the gangster informed me.

  “Pushy, pushy,” I mused.

  “Then tell it right.” He eased back against the backseat, spreading his arms over the top once more.

  Fine. I’d throw him a bone. “Frankie brilliantly distracted the partiers while I
slipped upstairs into the victim’s room. I found a hidden briefcase with pictures and information on three of our main suspects. The only ones I didn’t see were Jeannie Adair and Marcus Phillips. Either one of them might have been in there, though. I didn’t get a look at the whole collection.”

  “Not for lack of trying,” Frankie mused.

  He had that right.

  Ellis glanced at me. “What, all of them are criminals?”

  “Not exactly. Still, at least three of them had something to hide. And Marcus was paying out as well.” I told him about the piece of paper I found in the back of the ledger, and how I hadn’t been able to dig deeper into what it meant before the ghost got too close.

  “I had to run,” I finished. “The ghost chased us out, you manned the getaway car, and now here we are.”

  “Hmm.” Ellis looked thoughtful. “You said the victim, Greasy Larry, was a judge.”

  “Known for taking bribes.” What else could the numbers be? “But if you’ve already bribed him, why kill him? The money is gone. And I’m not even sure how an uncontested adoption case can go to court, so why was Graham Adair paying the biggest bribe?”

  “He had the most money,” Frankie said, ever practical. At least when it came to shaking people down. “You also need to tell your friend about the conversation I overheard at the tables last night.”

  “That’s right. Frankie also heard that Marjorie was paying off the judge.” I sat back. “That matches what I saw in the ledger tonight.”

  “All right,” Ellis said, thinking. “But the only one that you’re sure was in business with him was the diamond dealer,” he concluded. “Nobody else was actually working with him.”

  “It’s possible that Marjorie helped Shane with his business in some way. I doubt Graham would work with Larry, other than using him for the adoption back in 1916. Or if he did, it wouldn’t have been for long. Jeannie came into the picture a few years after and she couldn’t stand the judge. He let her tiara thief off with a slap on the wrist.”

  Ellis turned onto the rural road that led to my house. “Maybe the numbers he recorded weren’t bribes. Maybe it was blackmail.”

  I sat up straighter.

  Ellis tapped on the steering wheel with a fingertip as he thought. “As a judge, he’d have access to all sorts of police records. If he wanted to dig up dirt on someone and threaten them with it, it wouldn’t be hard.”

  It made sense. In fact, it explained the whole briefcase. I would have kissed Ellis right there if I hadn’t been worried about keeping the car on the road.

  “Larry was collecting dirty secrets,” I marveled. “Things that people didn’t want to get out. Marjorie’s married to a society guy now. She wouldn’t want to be known as a former criminal. She’d hidden her child as well.” No wonder she’d been so interested in my ties to EJ. “Graham probably paid to keep EJ’s identity as his niece intact.” I wondered if Jeannie knew.

  “You’d need a judge to sign the adoption papers,” Ellis added.

  “I saw it with my own eyes,” I said, nodding. I couldn’t stop nodding. “And lastly, Shane wouldn’t want anyone to know about his under-the-table deal with the mafia.”

  “I knew I recognized that guy from somewhere.” Frankie slapped the seat as if it were a victory. “He ran the Sugarland Laundry for us, didn’t he?”

  “He certainly did.” I turned around. “Is there anything illegal you haven’t tried?”

  Frankie lazily stretched over the backseat, shrugging a shoulder. “I ask myself that every day.”

  Oh brother.

  I turned back to Ellis. “This is good, but we need to know more,” I said, thinking out loud. “I mean, not everyone could have killed Larry.” There was one dominant ghost. And even if we figured out who did it, we’d need evidence. “Problem is, I doubt I’ll be getting another look at Larry’s dirty laundry.”

  If the dominant ghost had any idea what I’d been doing, and it seemed like it had, that briefcase would be long gone by now, hidden from me and anyone else.

  “You know who to call,” Ellis teased, turning onto the long driveway that led to my house.

  “Ghostbusters?” I teased him back.

  Yes, I knew. “I’ll call Melody.” My sister was a whiz at research, and she had access to the best library in three counties. “She’s researching the menagerie for me. I’ll ask her to help me look deeper into our suspects.”

  Between Marjorie’s criminal activities, Shane’s shady business deals, and the hidden circumstances surrounding EJ’s birth and the inheritance of the Adair estate, there was plenty to look into.

  “We’ll figure this out.” I think I was saying it as much to reassure myself as to inform the guys. “We will.”

  As soon as we crossed my property line, Frankie vanished. Maybe he was as exhausted from tonight as I was. That left me blessedly alone with Ellis. Although by the time we pulled up in front of my house, I was only a few minutes away from falling asleep against the window.

  He parked out back near my roses. We both got out and walked arm in arm up my steps. The porch light was surrounded by a swarm of amorous moths that cast fast, flitting shadows across Ellis’s handsome face. “Do you want me to stay tonight?” he asked, sliding one hand up to the base of my neck and massaging gently. I groaned and leaned my forehead against his chest. Ellis knew precisely where I carried my tension.

  “Mmm.” I was about to say yes before I remembered—it was Friday. Ellis always worked the early shift on the weekends, which meant he’d have to be back at work in less than eight hours. I’d already eaten up his free evening. I picked my head up to look at him. “You’re sweet to offer, but I’m fine now. Go home and get some rest.” Or, knowing Ellis, he’d stop by the station first in case something new had come in about the dead girl. Maya. Poor soul.

  He touched his forehead to mine. “I don’t mind.”

  I smiled at him. “I know you don’t. But you already saved me once tonight.”

  “The offer’s always open.” Ellis cupped the back of my head, leaned in, and placed a slow, tender kiss on my lips. I felt a little light-headed as we parted. “I love you. I’m always going to be there when you need me.”

  “Just like I will for you,” I said, tracing my fingers over his jaw. “That was some fancy driving tonight.”

  “I do my best.” Ellis winced and looked back at his patrol car. “I think it might have dented the roof. Not sure how I’m going to explain that one.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said. I’d put him in another bad spot. “I had no idea we’d run into such a powerful ghost.”

  He smiled, but it looked a little grim. “I’d rather be a part of it than lose you to it.” We kissed again, and again. “All right, if I’m going, I need to go,” he said at last. “Sleep well. We’ll talk tomorrow, okay?”

  “Okay.” I ran a hand down his muscular arm as he drew away. “Drive safe.”

  He chuckled ruefully. “You don’t have to tell me twice.”

  I leaned against the door frame and watched him drive away, enjoying the warm evening air, still feeling the gentle pressure of his hand on my neck. They didn’t come any better than Ellis Wydell.

  I was lucky to have him by my side, not to mention on my side.

  “Goodnight,” I murmured as his taillights disappeared, then opened my door and walked inside.

  I hadn’t turned the air on, and it was stuffy in the house. That alone should have brought Lucy to the door. The outside light cast a yellow circle onto the porch. My little skunk was always ready to zip out the door and claim a breezy spot near the rail, or a cozy nook between two flowerpots. But I didn’t see her.

  I frowned. This wasn’t right. Lucy should have been scratching at the door, trying to get my attention while Ellis and I said our goodbyes.

  I placed Frankie’s urn on the kitchen island.

  “Lucy?” I called. I’d let her out while I had the door open. “Lucy, honey?”

  Nothing.

&n
bsp; I had a second to register the tap-tap-tap of running paws before Lucy barreled into my calf, squirming between my legs and hiding like she’d done when she was a little kit. “Aw, baby.” I crouched down to pet her head and got a palmful of quivering snout. “What’s wrong? Did you see a ghost?”

  I checked my kitchen for any wayward spirits. Frankie had forgotten to turn his power off. Again. But I didn’t see anyone lurking in the shadows or up by the ceiling.

  Frankie was the only ghost that drove her crazy, and I was starting to see her point on that one.

  “Come here, sweetie,” I said, cuddling her to me, stroking her soft back. I cradled her in my arms as I walked over to the sink to get a glass of water. My throat was dry after all that running. “Mamma’s home now.” I poured myself a glass, flipped on the light, then turned and stopped dead in my tracks.

  A pie sat on the kitchen island, exactly where the other one had been before Lucy knocked it to the floor. It was pecan, like the first, and it was still warm. The scent of buttery crust, nuts, and cinnamon once again tinged the air. A chill went down my spine.

  Someone was trying to send me a message. And whoever it was had been inside my house tonight.

  Chapter 15

  Someone had been in my house. That wasn’t normal, or nice.

  This wasn’t a polite social call. They’d even scared my skunk.

  Sugarland was a safe place where you were supposed to be able to leave your doors open and not worry about anyone taking advantage.

  My entire body stiffened as I stepped closer to the pie. Perhaps there was something else with it—a note, just a word or two, maybe Lauralee saying, “I made an extra and thought of you.”

  But there was nothing.

  Just a pristine, flaky-crusted invasion of space on the edge of my counter.

  I put my free hand over my nose, the scent of roasted pecans and brown sugar suddenly noxious.

  Giving other people food was a way of life in the South. Birthday? Food! Someone got married? Food! Someone died? Lots of food! It was a perfect mechanism for gossip, too. “Hey there, I made you a casserole! By the way, have you heard…”