Pecan Pies and Dead Guys

by Angie Fox

  Chapter 20

  I walked down the front steps of the station and out into the dark. I wished the street wasn’t so deserted. This was a safe part of town, but everything closed at seven on the dot. No one else was out, as far as I could tell. Closed shops with shuttered windows hunkered just beyond the pools of light cast by the lamps outside the police station.

  It would have been nice to see someone, other than the person who wanted to kill me.

  The skin on the back of my neck prickled.

  It wasn’t like he or she would be waiting outside the police station.

  Although there were plenty of shadows to hide in and no one to see if anything were to happen to me. I had a fair distance to walk before I reached the safety of my car. I was parked in front of the hardware store again.

  “You’re being silly,” I whispered as I hurried diagonally across the four-way stop. Why had I parked so far away?

  Because this had been the closest space earlier.

  I’d faced poltergeists and mobsters and one scary almost-mother-in-law. I could get to my car okay. But had I remembered to lock it?

  No.

  Someone could have gotten inside and hidden in the backseat or rolled beneath the car. I paused in front of the darkened entrance to the hardware store.

  “Hey!”

  “Aaaah!” I screamed and jumped half a foot into the air as I whirled around to face Frankie. “Please—” I placed a hand over my heart “—don’t sneak up on me.” He’d scared me half to death.

  “You’re fine. We’re alone. Finally. And we need to go.”

  “You’re sure there’s nobody else?” I said, holding my car keys as a weapon as I advanced on my Cadillac.

  “Just one nutty ghost hunter and me,” he said.

  I didn’t even mind the insult. I was so relieved to be alive and finally at my car.

  “Now drive like this thing is on fire,” Frankie said, materializing next to me in the passenger seat.

  I drove the speed limit.

  “I don’t want to be the fashion police, but it looks like you used a whole vase of flowers for that boutonniere.” He’d stuffed a red rose in the middle of a spray of baby’s breath, three carnations, and one, two, three, four…five daisies. “You might want to tone it down a bit if we’re going to blend in.”

  “The bullet hole in the coat was bigger than I thought,” he said, adjusting the greenhouse on his chest. “It looks fine. Festive. And, hey, at least I’m not alive. You’re the one who’s not going to blend.”

  I feared he could be right on that one.

  When we reached the mansion, the party was going full swing. I could hear the music and the laughter from the other side of the gate.

  We parked at the end of the drive, car facing out, keys left in the ignition. I wasn’t taking any chances this time.

  “Hurry up,” Frankie hissed as I drew my mask out of the bag in my backseat.

  I stiffened as a man wearing donkey’s ears stumbled through the wall and down the walk toward us. He used one hand to hold his drink, the other to keep his crooked crown on his head.

  Frankie and I exchanged a look.

  “It’s gold!” the man warbled as he stumbled past, laughing to himself. “Everything I-hic-touch is gold! Gold!” He fell into a bush and stayed there, his feet sticking out at odd angles.

  “Maybe at least lay him on the ground,” I suggested.

  “He’s fine,” Frankie said, heading for the gate. “I’ve slept in worse places.”

  I shuddered to think.

  He held the homemade “iron mask” over his face. “You ready?”

  I placed my own mask over my face. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

  “All right, Lady X.” He cocked an imaginary gun at me, mimed pulling the trigger, and grinned. “May every bullet miss.”

  “That’s awful,” I said, easing the key into the lock. He was assuming we’d get shot at.

  “It’s a good-luck thing,” he said. “You know, so we don’t get pinched.”

  “In that case, I’m all for it,” I told him as the gate creaked open.

  We eased inside, and what I saw next made me pause.

  The exterior of the house was decorated this time, huge stretches of delicate silk panels hanging down from the roof to the hedges below. There were six two-story panels total, each one painted to look like we stood outside the castle of Versailles.

  The lawn itself had erupted into formal gardens. I stuck to the edges, scanning the crowd as beautifully costumed people laughed and drank and danced. A full orchestra played on the lawn, next to a large fountain with frolicking cherubs. And the gems…

  Diamond chokers glittered around necks. Hands drooped a bit, weighed down by solid gold rings and bracelets, and the crowns that most people wore were just as extravagant. I had no doubt that most of what they wore was real, too. Or at least it had been.

  “That’s it. I’ve died and gone to heaven,” Frankie murmured as we eased over to an alcove near the far edge of the party, trying to escape notice. It held a small lovers bench. I heard a man’s low voice and a woman’s giggle.

  “Let’s keep moving,” I said, narrowly avoiding the start of a hedge maze and directing him to a lily pond with a little footbridge. We crossed quickly. I felt exposed.

  “You’re doing good, kid,” Frankie said, in a rare show of support. He must be more worried than I thought.

  “I’m glad our costumes are plain.” Even Frankie’s obnoxious flower display paled in comparison. It gave people less reason to look too close as we made our way toward the house. We hung close to a series of tall topiaries and kept our eyes on the crowd. I didn’t see any of our suspects. Yet.

  “You’re two hours late.” The inspector nearly gave me a heart attack when he stepped out of the darkness directly ahead of us.

  He looked exactly the same as he always did. No costume for him, apparently.

  Frankie took it better than I did. “We’ve been here the whole time,” he said. “Only we’ve been sneaking around, looking for clues.”

  “I saw you pull up,” De Clercq said flatly.

  Frankie looked at me and shrugged. “I tried.”

  “We’re here now,” I said, hoping to make it right.

  De Clercq saw everything. He was like a dour version of Santa Claus. We just needed to use his power for good and get working on the case. “What’s Jordan doing?” I asked.

  The inspector’s expression went from sour to calculating. “Mr. Jordan is on the other side of this hedgerow. He’s been there the entire party, and I’m starting to have my doubts if his contact will materialize.”

  “Show us,” I said.

  He tilted his head, and I ventured a peek around the tall topiaries.

  Jordan had removed his mask and stood staring at the fountain without seeing it.

  “You’d think a money launderer who is about to meet his contact would be on guard and watching,” De Clercq snapped as if Jordan’s current mood were my fault.

  “At least we know where he is,” I said, looking at the bright side.

  “Verity, watch out,” Frankie hissed, disappearing into thin air. De Clercq did the same.

  I turned. Marjorie strolled straight for me with murder in her eyes. “Hiya, doll.”

  My body stiffened. I prepared to run. If she was the dominant ghost, my cover was blown.

  “So now you know,” she said, trapping me against the topiary.

  “I know, but I don’t judge,” I said, hoping to buy some time.

  Only three ghosts knew for sure that I’d found Larry’s notes: Frankie, De Clercq, and the killer.

  Jordan spotted us. He shot me a dirty look and strode away toward the side of the house.

  Her gaze traveled past me, toward her boyfriend.

  “Trouble with Shane?” I asked.

  “We broke up right before tonight’s party,” Marjorie said, her words icy. “I don’t know why I bother getting my hopes up anymore.”


  “Don’t say that,” I countered, although come to think of it, I wasn’t about to encourage her to date a dangerous man who ran with the mob, even if her husband could be a jerk. Still, I had to wonder… “Does this happen at the party every year?”

  “This is a first,” she said, backing off, “although people sure do like to leave me.”

  The pain in her voice made me wince. “I’m so sorry this happened,” I told her. Even if Shane was bad news, it still had to hurt. And if this was a first, I wondered what had changed at this year’s party—aside from my discovery of the suitcase.

  Marjorie shrugged and took a sip of her martini. “I should be used to having my heart broken by now.”

  No, she shouldn’t. “You deserve more.” A man who loved and respected her. It would be awfully lonely partying for eternity without anyone who truly cared about you. “At least he knows what he’s missing,” I said, trying to cheer her up. “You look amazing tonight.”

  She blinked hard and stared into her drink.

  She did look gorgeous. Her elaborate silk dress was fit for French royalty.

  “Jeannie Adair is always Marie Antoinette, but I make a good handmaiden.”

  Ouch. I wished I had something to sip, anything to keep my hands busy. “I appreciate you telling me about Larry’s room,” I ventured.

  She mock toasted me with her martini. “You made quite an exit.”

  “Yes, well, I’m trying to keep a low profile tonight,” I said, taking in the Adairs’ version of Versailles. “All things considered, it might not be too hard. I feel like I snuck into Cinderella’s ball.”

  Marjorie’s mouth twisted into a rueful grin. “You think this number is something, you should have seen me at this afternoon’s Shake Your Sheikh party.”

  “I’m sorry I missed it.” I’d have been glad to be on the case instead of dealing with De Clercq and his prison.

  “I was a dancing girl,” she added, and I saw her first real smile of the night. “I wore plenty of veils, but not a lot else.”

  Oh my. Just thinking of her social schedule exhausted me. “Don’t you ever sleep?”

  “Please,” she scoffed. “I’ll sleep when I’m dead.” She paused. “Or at least that’s what I used to say.”

  She’d steered me right last night. And now that it was clear her anger had come from her boyfriend troubles and not what I’d learned in the upstairs bedroom, I wondered if I should tell her about the suitcase. I’d be trusting her with a lot if I did. Still, we needed to solve this case tonight. I might need to take some big risks to make that happen.

  “I talked to Eliza Jean today,” I said, watching for Marjorie’s reaction. “EJ told me how she liked to write to you, what great advice you gave.”

  Marjorie’s party-girl expression fell away, and in its place, I saw a woman who longed for connection. I supposed it was a quality we all shared deep down. “She remembered me fondly?” Marjorie asked, with an abundance of hope that almost broke my heart.

  “She looked forward to every trip to this place, every letter,” I assured her. “She was so sad when her mother forbade her to write anymore.”

  Marjorie covered her mouth with her hand. “Of course. Her mother.” She dropped her hand. “Graham said that was probably it. I just…figured it was something wrong with me.”

  Nothing could be further from the truth. “I hope I’m not overstepping my bounds, but I think you should know. Eliza Jean told me herself that she regrets having to write the letter that said she didn’t value your advice and friendship. She loved you.”

  Marjorie nodded and hastily wiped away tears.

  “I understand she’s your daughter,” I said gently.

  Her watery eyes held shock and a heartbreak that took my breath away. “Larry Knowles was blackmailing me.”

  “I learned that as well,” I told her. We’d find a way to make it right. “I’m trying to get EJ to come back to Sugarland. I think she needs to see this place again.”

  “After—” she sniffed “—after I died, I wanted to go see her, if only to watch over her. But the dominant ghost won’t let me leave.”

  “And you have no idea who that is?” I asked, hoping for a break. “Any inkling? A feeling?” I’d take anything at this point.

  She lowered her gaze. “I have no idea.”

  I nodded. “If your daughter comes back, I’ll find a way to make sure you can see her.”

  “I—” she began, working to compose herself. “Thank you for that.” She forced a smile. It was either that or she’d start full-out crying. I knew the expression well. “I always used to tell Eliza Jean that people will find their way back if it’s meant to be.” Her attention returned to the fountain, where we’d last seen Shane.

  Yes, well, the farther she got from him, the better.

  Hopefully, soon, she’d see that. Tonight was our last chance to nail him. It would be easier with her help.

  I had to take a calculated risk here or we might not solve this in time.

  “Marjorie.” I urged her farther into the shadows. “I need to level with you about another thing.”

  She nodded and swallowed as if I were about to tell her something she didn’t want to hear. That could be good…or very, very bad. Either way, I was doing this.

  “I was chased out of that upstairs room after I found a hidden briefcase belonging to Judge Knowles. He kept notes on the people he blackmailed,” I added, watching her expression fall.

  She sniffed. “That’s how you learned about Eliza Jean,” she said stonily.

  “Yes. And about your marriage to Graham,” I said.

  “Graham and I were never in love”—she blushed—“at least not that way. It was a mistake. A little adventure gone wrong.” She wrung her hands and failed to meet my eyes. “We wrote his sister in New York,” she said, her words coming fast. “Rose Adair was smart. Older. She and her husband had been married for seven years and hadn’t had babies yet. She offered to take our baby and raise it as her own. I could be a favorite friend. My baby would have a great life.”

  “That does sound like a good plan,” I assured her, at least for her time. I couldn’t imagine the heartbreak that came with it.

  She nodded and wiped her eyes. “We married for Eliza Jean. We didn’t want her to be illegitimate in case it ever got out. We didn’t tell anyone except Graham’s sister and brother-in-law in New York. Until…” She gave a long sigh. “A few years later, when Graham met Jeannie, he told her everything before he proposed.” She shook her head. “Jeannie was shocked at first, but she came around rather quickly. She couldn’t have children and, if anything, I think sharing his secret brought them closer. Graham found a good one,” she added longingly, before clearing her throat. “Anyhow, I had the baby out in New York. We needed Judge Knowles to handle the adoption quietly, as well as the divorce.” She took a jagged, steadying breath. “He used both to blackmail me.”

  “You weren’t trying to hide your arrest in Chicago?”

  “No,” she said, surprised. “I mean, it would have trashed my reputation, but I’ve never exactly been the shy and retiring type. Larry never hit me with that.”

  Interesting that Larry even brought it to the party.

  “I admire how much you sacrificed for your daughter,” I said. “She was lucky to have a mother like you.”

  “Maybe.” She blinked hard, as if fighting fresh tears. “But I think Rose was right. I’m not the best influence. She was lucky to be a thousand miles away from me.”

  “Please don’t say that.” I wished I could fold her in my arms. “Eliza Jean told me herself how wonderful it was to have you in her life.”

  “As the crazy aunt,” she chuffed. “I certainly wouldn’t want her making the kinds of choices I did. I mean, look at me. I’ve been married twice and never for love. Graham felt sorry for me. Marcus wants to control me. Shane actually loved me, or so I thought, but now he’s taking off without me after tonight.”

  “You’re be
tter off without him. He’s laundering money for the mob,” I said. “It was in the briefcase.”

  She closed her eyes briefly. “I should be surprised, but I’m not,” she said. “You have to understand, Shaney isn’t violent or mean. Marcus, on the other hand,” she hedged, “did you see him in the briefcase?”

  “I saw him on a ledger page. Was Greasy Larry blackmailing him as well?”

  “Yes,” she said quickly. “No,” she hedged, toying with an earring. “Maybe. I always suspected they had some connection.” She sighed and looked away. “I sure can pick ’em, huh? A lover who’s in it with the mob and a husband who…” she trailed off. “I don’t suppose it matters much anymore.”

  It did to me. “You can talk about it if you want.”

  She stared past me, toward the fountain and the darkened menagerie beyond. “A husband I don’t want and a lover who doesn’t want me. My life is a mess. You must not think much of me.”

  She’d shown me kindness and honesty. I’d judge her on that. “I don’t think you can help who you fall in love with,” I said. “Our hearts don’t come with off switches.”

  “Yeah, maybe not.” She took a long drink of her martini. “Sometimes, I wish they did.” She looked to the fountain where he’d been. “I’m worried about Shane.”

  “Afraid he’ll slip off to the menagerie alone?” I asked, keeping my tone casual. Pushing my luck.

  Her expression fell. “How did you know?”

  “I’ve been around,” I told her. “I’m worried, too.” Worried she was in love with a killer. “How does he manage to get in without anybody noticing?”

  She hesitated for a moment, taking a sip of her martini. “He always creeps off when everybody else is distracted by the big show. He typically hangs by the fountain first.” She glanced up toward the house. “But he left when he realized you were watching him. Maybe he won’t go tonight.”

  I hoped he would. Justice would be waiting there for him this time.

  While I was wishing for things, I hoped Frankie and De Clercq were tailing him now. I scanned the crowd and didn’t spot them anywhere. Then again, we were all trying to stay incognito.