That Voodoo That You Do

by Ann Yost

  “Blanche must have found out,” Mabel Ruth said, in a sorrowful voice. “She probably confronted Epps. She never had any fear, not when she knew she was right.”

  Jessie watched Luke’s eyes find those of his ex-wife, and her heart twisted in pain. It was her first real experience with jealousy. It really was the green-eyed monster.

  “But what about the reverend,” Millicent asked. “We know he was in cahoots about Blanche’s death.”

  Luke rubbed his hand over the bristles on his face and chin. He hadn’t taken time to shave before he’d gone off to buy the tree. With Crystal.

  “My guess is Epps paid Prendergast to keep the church locked,” Luke said.

  Maude looked confused. “But why?”

  “A precaution,” Jessie said. “He probably wanted as few people as possible near the mortuary.” She thought of something else. “Focusing attention on the church diverted attention from the funeral home.” Her eyes flew to Luke’s. “Epps might even have engineered the tryst between Prendergast and his wife to throw more suspicion on the reverend.”

  Luke nodded. “That occurred to me, too.”

  “I still believe the reverend killed Blanche,” Millicent said, stubbornly. “Letty, too.”

  “There’s something else,” Luke said. “Someone came through the door that connects the church and the mortuary and shot at Jessie last night.”

  All eyes flew to Jessie.

  “What?” her mother cried.

  “Where were you?” her father demanded.

  Luke kept his eyes on Jessie. “She heard someone coming, I didn’t. She protected me by tumbling me into the coffin, then she formed a plan to attack the newcomer with a flashlight.”

  “Oh my god!”

  “I missed,” Jessie said. “Mister Epps missed, too.”

  “How do you know who it was?” Gillian asked. “Could you see his face?”

  Luke and Jessie exchanged another look.

  “She knows,” Luke said, “because Prendergast and Lois were down the hall. They actually scared off the intruder.”

  There was a brief shocked silence.

  “The reverend said last night that Miss Letty would be buried this morning,” Crystal said, slowly. “If Jessie had been killed, Luke would have been buried alive.”

  Misery and guilt flooded Jessie. How could she have been so careless with Luke’s life?

  “I’d have gotten the lid open,” Luke said. His green eyes were warm on her. “Jessie risked her life to save mine. She’s a hero.”

  Everyone murmured words of praise, but they didn’t console Jessie. She wasn’t a hero, and anyway, she didn’t want Luke’s gratitude.

  “My goodness,” Monica murmured.

  “Mysterious deaths, grave robbing, illicit sex. Sleepy little Mystic Hollow has turned into a regular Peyton Place.”

  “I’m glad for Eleanor’s sake,” Millicent said. “She’s had enough misery from that husband of hers. At least he’s not a murderer.”

  “I wonder if Sweeney Todd sliced up your Aunt Blanche,” Kit put in.

  Jessie saw Luke flinch. “Aunt Blanche was cremated the same day she died, remember? Epps wouldn’t have had time to, you know, work on her.”

  “Probably couldn’t take a chance on someone finding out how she died,” Millicent said.

  “And Mister Epps knew Aunt Blanche had powerful friends,” Jessie added. The elderly ladies appeared pleased with her comment and her heart warmed. “He was probably afraid of an investigation. After all, it’s because of your suspicions we’ve discovered the murderer.”

  The chief flattened his beefy hands on his solid thighs and pushed to his feet. “I think it’s about time to have a little look-see over at the mortuary. I’ll have to drive to Roanoke for a warrant.” He looked at Luke. He obviously wanted the younger man’s help.

  “I’ll ride along if it’s all right with you,” Luke said. “Jessie should come, too. It’s her investigation.”

  She shook her head. She didn’t need to be in on the arrest, and she couldn’t bear to spend time with Luke knowing it was over between them, that he’d be looking for a good time to tell her. She decided to ease his path by setting the time herself.

  “I’ll stay here and help with the Christmas preparations,” she said. “You can fill us in after the pageant.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  For Reverend Dennis Prendergast, Christmas Eve was a slam dunk. The church service consisted of beloved carols, a Bible story, and a pageant guaranteed to please all of the parents in the congregation.

  The whole thing required little or no pastoral effort. If only everything in life could be just like Christmas Eve.

  He enjoyed their personal traditions, too, his and Ellie’s. On December Twenty-fourth, his wife abandoned her efforts to lower his cholesterol and blood pressure and prepared a brunch worthy of the gods.

  This year the menu consisted of quail’s eggs and pâté de foie gras, hash browned potatoes, strawberries and cream, crisp bacon, imported cheese, pink champagne, and his wife’s specialty, quiche a la Ellie. The rich food and bubbly drink warmed his insides, and for an all-too-short moment, he relaxed and allowed his natural optimism to surface.

  This would all work out. Today was not only Christmas Eve, it was payday. It marked the end of his unholy alliance. By tonight, when the children of Mystic Hollow were tucked all snug in their beds, the pastor of St. Michael’s would have much more than sugar plums in his head. He’d have a cool, tax-free million dollars in his hands.

  Even better, he’d be free of his Faustian bargain.

  From now on, he’d tread more carefully. This caper had turned him gray. Not that it showed. Thanks to a wonderfully clever colorist next to the tanning salon in Roanoke, what was left of his hair still gleamed a burnished gold.

  He leaned back in his chair and groaned. He rubbed at the slight ache in his overfull stomach. Something brushed his arm and he flinched. Ah. It was only Ellie. His nerves really, really needed a vacation.

  She set a parfait glass in front of him. It was rain bowed in citrusy colors. Dennis thought he’d hurl if he had to eat one more bite.

  “Are you all right, Denny? You look a little peaked.”

  “Fine.” He smiled at her. “You really pulled out all the stops, Ellie.” He glanced at the dessert.

  “Not sure there’s any more room at the inn.” She looked resigned but only for a second. She’d never pressure him. He knew that. On the other hand, she’d worked hard on the whole meal. The least he could do was eat it. He picked up his spoon. “Looks delicious.” It was delicious. Light, easy to swallow.

  “There’s more to this than lemons, limes, and oranges,” he said, thoughtfully. “Secret ingredient?”

  “Kiwi. Makes it a little tart.”

  He leaned back to accommodate the mound of his stomach. “Another triumph,” he said, sleepily, “a symphony in culinary success.”

  She smiled, rose, and started to clear the table. He should offer to help, but he couldn’t seem to keep his eyes open. Naturally she noticed.

  “Why don’t you take a little nap? We’ve got a couple of hours before we have to be at the church.”

  A nap sounded great.

  He pushed back his chair and lumbered to his feet. He moved to give her a hug, but her hands were full of dirty dishes. “Thanks again, Ellie. You always make Christmas Eve the best day of the year.”

  “Don’t forget to take your phone with you, dear,” she said, as she moved toward the sink. “Just in case we need to touch base at the last minute.”

  Dennis pulled the little phone out of his pocket and held it up.

  “I never go anywhere without it,” he quipped. “It was a great surprise, Ellie.”

  He had a surprise for her, too. Tomorrow, they were getting the hell out of Mystic Hollow.

  ****

  On the drive to Roanoke to pick up a warrant, Ezra and Luke talked for a few minutes, but soon both lapsed into silence. Luke�
�s eyes burned from lack of sleep. He realized he hadn’t slept more than a few hours a night since Jessie had arrived.

  Jessie. Something was bothering her. Luke was no expert on the female psyche, which probably accounted for his divorce. But he was observant. He’d left a sensuous, satisfied woman in bed, but she’d seemed tense and brittle this morning. The question was why? He’d gotten her the tree she wanted. Had she felt threatened by Crystal’s participation? He frowned. Shouldn’t she have been satisfied with his proposal? He’d thought Jessie Maynard was different, that she wouldn’t succumb to petty jealousy.

  He tried to see the situation from her point of view. Crystal was an intimidating act to follow, but hell, he’d proposed to Jessie. If she was waiting to hear an endless litany of reassurances and professions of love, she’d wait a long time. He wasn’t going out on that emotional limb again.

  Not ever.

  Not even for a woman who kept trying to rescue him.

  Maybe she was torqued that she wouldn’t be present for Epps’s arrest. He knew she felt possessive about the investigation. But she could have asked to go along. She hadn’t. It was something else. He let out a long breath. He’d have to track this down tonight. Heat curled in his stomach. Yeah. They could work this all out tonight.

  In bed.

  Luke shifted in his seat. Just thinking about Jessie made him hard.

  “I appreciate all you kids have done on this business,” Ezra said. “What’re your plans now? Heading back to D.C.?”

  Chief Smith glanced at him. Luke must have looked startled because the older man explained. “Blanche kept us informed about your doings. That woman was so darned proud of you.”

  Luke said nothing. He was pretty sure Blanche wouldn’t have been proud that he’d seduced her great-niece.

  “I may stick around,” he said. The words surprised him. “I’m going to marry Jessie Maynard.”

  The chief kept his eyes on the road, but he nodded his head.

  “Good decision, boy. I believe this time you’ve got it right.”

  ****

  The witch hat house was starting to look like the set from a Christmas television special. Garlands of evergreen decorated the mantelpiece and twined around the banister. A string of colored lights outlined the large oval mirror in the parlor. Red and green ribbons were tied on the individual lamps in the chandelier in the dining room. The air was full of cinnamon and pine.

  Monica bought the last fresh turkey at Ferguson’s along with the fixings for creamed onions, stuffing, squash and corn relish, and cranberry sauce. Early Christmas Eve afternoon, while Luke and Chief Smith were out chasing down a warrant, Jessie, Monica, and Gillian baked pumpkin and mince pies. Kit, dressed in a stained apron, was stringing cranberries while Crystal kept him company.

  When Monica went out to the parlor to put up her feet, the younger people gathered around the table for hot chocolate.

  “I love Christmas,” Crystal said. “It’s such a romantic time.”

  More romantic for some than for others, Jessie thought. But she held onto her friendly smile.

  “Ah, romance,” Gillian said. “The year I was nineteen,” Gillian said, “I spent Christmas in Paris and fell in love with the Louvre Museum.”

  Crystal laughed. “It was Paris. You should have fallen in love with a man.”

  “Oh, I did that, too,” Monica said. “It’s just that my relationship with the museum lasted longer.”

  They all laughed.

  “I remember the year I fell in love with Rags,” Kit reminisced.

  “Rags?” Crystal’s lovely lips tilted into a smile.

  “He was a beagle. I was ten.” He smiled at Jessie. “What about you, Jess?”

  Jessie thought about meeting Luke, how she’d fallen in love so fast and so absolutely and how she’d realized, too late, he still loved his ex-wife.

  “Jessie’s in love with the holiday itself,” Gillian said. “This is the first year she didn’t play Santa for kids on the south side of town.”

  “Why not?” Crystal asked.

  Jessie was ashamed of herself. She’d completely forgotten her favorite Christmas tradition. “Got too tied up in wedding arrangements,” she muttered.

  “Christmas is a time for weddings,” Crystal said. “I got married on December Twenty-fourth.” But you left him. You wanted a divorce.

  “So this is your anniversary,” Gillian said.

  Crystal nodded. Her amethyst eyes looked dreamy. “Everyone said it was the most beautiful wedding ever held at St. Michael’s.”

  Jessie believed the claim. She’d seen the photo. Most beautiful wedding. Most beautiful bride. Most besotted bridegroom.

  Howard Maynard appeared at the door, and he motioned to Jessie. Fresh from a nap he looked rested. Jessie’s mood lightened. She’d wanted her dad healthy and her family together. It was all good. They walked down the hall to Blanche’s comfortable study. Howard took the big desk chair while Jessie sat on a small sofa.

  “I just wanted to take a minute to apologize, sweetheart.”

  “Apologize?”

  “Your mother and I saw your marriage to Kit as a way to solve our problem. In all fairness, I believe he’s a fine young man. It seemed like a good match for you, but that doesn’t excuse our selfishness.”

  Jessie shook her head. She couldn’t let him take all the blame. “I apologize to you for all the time and money spent on the wedding. I thought Kit and I could make a go of it, but it never would have worked.”

  “I see that now,” he said. “You were always more friends than lovers. I never saw that desperate passion on either of your faces.”

  She smiled. “Is that how you feel about Mom?”

  He nodded. “She’s my life. I’m glad you finally found someone you could feel that way about.”

  Jessie’s face burned. She’d been too obvious. Now her folks would be disappointed again. “What about you and Mom? Will you remarry?”

  He grinned. It was a satisfied expression she hadn’t seen on his face in a long while. “We haven’t discussed it. I haven’t told her I’m retiring in January. Gonna let Kit run the show. If he does well, I’ll sell him the business.”

  “What about Grandad’s legacy?”

  “I’ve learned an important lesson through the heart attack, the divorce, and your canceled wedding. You can’t spend your life taking care of someone else’s dream. You’ve only got one chance, Jess. Do what you want to do.”

  Jessie stayed in the study after her father had left. She thought about his words. She thought about all the efforts she’d made to hold her family together, to protect her dad’s health, to be the daughter her parents needed instead of the woman she was.

  She’d started to pursue her own dreams down here in Mystic Hollow. Here, in Great-Aunt Blanche’s home, in her town, Jessie had finally found a place where she could be herself, a place that felt like home. She’d become her own person. She knew it wasn’t the quaint house or Blanche’s friends or even the murder investigation that had wrought the change. Love had made her see beneath the surface, made her feel alive. She thought about Luke, and her heart squeezed. The metamorphosis had come with a high price, but even so, she wasn’t sorry. And she vowed not to be bitter. If Crystal could make Luke happy, she wanted him to have her.

  That’s what love was all about, wasn’t it?

  She leaned back in the chair and closed her eyes. The noble sentiment faded when she remembered the feel of Luke’s body on hers, the tickle of his breath at her ear, the sense of oneness she’d never experienced with anybody else.

  She was lying to herself. She didn’t want Luke to reconcile with Crystal. She wanted the man for herself. That thought gave rise to a more painful one. She still had secret knowledge that would help Francine and Zach. She needed to use it without hurting Luke and there was only one way to do that. She headed for the kitchen in search of Crystal.

  When the women were back in Blanche’s study with the door closed, Jess
ie didn’t know where to begin. She decided just to plunge in. “I read some of Blanche’s,” she hesitated then chose a word, “diary. She knew you were getting together with Bobby Ray and using Francine’s name to hide behind.”

  Jessie knew her tone was accusing. She thought she saw remorse on the other woman’s face and she tried to lighten up.

  “In any case, Zach and Francine are going to get married. They’re going to have a baby.” For an instant she felt like a gossip, but everyone at Miss Letty’s funeral had heard about it.

  “Good for them,” Crystal said. She didn’t sound sarcastic.

  “They’re getting married,” Jessie continued, “but they’re still estranged. He believed the lies your late boyfriend told him.”

  Crystal lifted her slim shoulders. Even her shrug was pretty. “We did it to protect ourselves.

  Well, me, mostly. I didn’t want Francine to get hurt.”

  “She did get hurt.”

  The beautiful face twisted. “Bobby probably rubbed Zach’s face in it. He was charming and he knew it but he had a mean streak.”

  “What about you? You risked hurting your husband.”

  “I couldn’t get his attention. He was always so busy, so focused on school and work and making a living. I just wanted him to notice me.”

  “I doubt there’s a man alive who wouldn’t notice you,” Jessie said. She noticed Crystal took the compliment in stride. The woman knew her own power.

  “He wanted me. They all wanted me. But it was physical. Luke never treated me like an equal. He wasn’t interested in what I thought.”

  Sympathy nipped at Jessie. Crystal sounded like one of the women who’d married to avoid taking charge of her own life. A woman like Jessie had been just last week.

  “Bobby was trying to stick it to Zach,” Crystal said, shame coloring her voice. “They are half-brothers. Zach was a war hero, and Bobby was jealous of his dad’s admiration for that.” Half-brothers. That explained a lot.

  “First Bobby hit him with that, then with the business about Francine. Once Zach had confirmed the fatherhood thing with his mom, it was only logical that he believe Bobby on the other.”

  “And he was vulnerable to betrayal,” Jessie murmured. Poor Zach.