“So, tell me everything. I’ll run relay to the Sheriff. I figured you were a little out of sorts, so I convinced him to let me take care of you,” Fern said quietly, and I had to fight the desire to make a face at the burly older man who stood some distance away, closer to the statue with a group of forensic operators. I had ditched the scene as soon as I called for help, sitting a little ways away in the field while Moody had investigated the body more closely. She’d bolted back into the museum when the police arrived, but...
“Moody may have gotten some cat hair on the body,” I said bleakly, and Fern raised a brow before exhaling a breathy chuckle.
“Well, it’s not like Moody could have exactly killed him. What would she do? Scare him into running into the statue? Moody’s annoying, but not exactly killer material,” she said dismissively.
“Tell that to the mice I took care of this morning, Fern,” Moody said pointedly. I didn’t even realize she had snuck back out, but I took comfort in running my hand along her spine. She purred, pressing into my touch with a little kitty grin.
“Point taken. Now, Mazie, tell me everything you saw. Did you see anything that might be a clue?” Fern pressed, and I hesitated a moment before shrugging. I felt a bit helpless, but I wasn’t about to let my sister see that and worry her head off.
“There was just the usual garbage out here. Could have been put here at any time, though. I’m no pathologist,” I muttered, rubbing my arm self-consciously.
“Pet me some more. You’ll feel better,” Moody suggested, and I chuckled before gathering her in my arms. She seemed content, and true to her name, her mood rubbed off on me a bit.
“So he was just... dead, when you came out here? I’m sorry, sis, but I’m on thin ice, and I gotta get your statement,” Fern pressed, seeming guilty for how pushy she was being. I frowned, glancing in the direction of the statue. The forensics team snapped photographs of the scene, and a sick feeling in my gut wondered how long they were just going to leave him dangling there.
“Yeah. I thought... I don’t know, I just thought he was here to see the statue. I didn’t see the blood until I was right on him, and... the sword tip,” I said quietly, refusing to shed a tear. I kept telling myself that Dickney was a douche bag that deserved everything he got, but I was a bit reluctant to say anyone deserved to die. Especially with such a look of fear...
I was shaken from my thoughts when I was suddenly pulled in for a bear hug, and I squeaked out a complaint. Wheeling around as soon as I was released, I wasn’t terribly surprised to see Becky—one of my coworkers. We usually alternated shifts, but she had taken the day off. Actually, it was kind of surprising to see her there, especially considering her excuse of food poisoning.
“Oh my gosh, Mazie. I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine how you must feel. Oh my, it could have been me this morning,” Becky rambled, twisting her mousy brown hair around her finger as she talked. I glanced at Fern, hoping my expression screamed for help as effectively as I hoped.
“Well... uhm. Glad to see you’re better,” I managed, unable to ignore the slight sensation of nervousness as others seemed to gather on the scene. Fang had a wad of chewing tobacco in his lip, occasionally spitting on the ground as he observed the forensics team from behind the crime scene tape. I would have normally chastised him for making a mess, but I wasn’t really in the mood. Jimmy Jack, Fang's son, stood at his side, arms crossed over his broad chest. Where Fang’s expression was unreadable, Jimmy Jack almost looked... relieved.
“Eh, good riddance,” Amber announced as she joined our group, loudly chewing a wad of gum. I frowned, partially agreeing with her. It seemed at the very least, the water park idea was going down the toilet. Fang spat again, his expression shifting to one of outright joy—or well, the closest approximation that I thought the moonshiner could manage to joy.
“Yeah. Glad to see someone took that sack of crap out before I had to shove my shotgun up his ass,” Fang said, his voice gritty. Becky frowned, too sweet to take part in the casual disrespect towards the dead.
“Well, I don’t think anyone deserves to die, as much as I hated the idea of the water park,” Becky pointed out, and although I generally enjoyed Becky’s positive attitude, I was much more sympathetic to those of us who had lived here our whole lives. Becky was pretty new in town, only having been here for a couple of years. She didn’t quite understand the whole solidarity that the rest of us had going, but she was a city girl at heart. City folk didn’t quite understand life in small towns like Stillwater. Still, Becky was young, and had a good head on her shoulders, even if she could let her emotions get the better of her. I liked her in general, even if she did make excuses to miss work more often than I’d like.
“You think anything except death would have stopped that guy? Come on, girly. It’s okay to be relieved,” Jimmy Jack said smoothly, resting a hand on Becky’s shoulder. She blushed a deep shade of red, all thoughts of Dickney seeming to evaporate. Amber giggled, a high pitched and grating sound, before popping the gum in her mouth. I swear, that woman’s very existence was nails on a chalkboard personified. I couldn’t be terribly surprised by her presence, however. Where the gossip went, Amber followed. I could imagine a death in town would be relevant for some years to come. It seemed a bit callous to think of it that way, but Dickney... hadn’t been a nice guy. The more time that passed between encountering his corpse and now, the less bad I felt about his death. Jimmy Jack had a point, after all. Nothing short of death would have stopped construction on Dickney’s watch.
“Wonder who did it. I’m sure the police have their share of suspects,” Amber mused aloud, glancing at Fang none too subtly. Either the moonshiners didn’t notice, or simply didn’t care about the notorious gossip’s opinion. Becky, however, seemed to catch on, glaring in Amber’s direction.
“You know... the police are probably going to want to know where you and your dad were last night,” Becky whispered in hushed tones to Jimmy Jack. The young man made a face, looking over at his father with a frown.
“Oh come on. My dad’s rough around the edges, I’ll give you that. He wouldn’t kill anyone though. He’s got a good heart. Besides, we were...,” the young man paused, glancing at Fern with a vaguely disconcerted expression.
“I know what it is that you and your father do for a living, JJ,” Fern muttered idly, seeming to be caught up in staring at the acts of the forensic team. The younger moonshiner breathed a sigh of relief, relaxing visibly.
“Well, me and pops were out delivering hooch to some customers last night. I was with him the whole time,” he said loudly. Fern glanced at him once more, tugging her lip between her teeth and nodding quietly.
“I’m sure you two are the last people the Sheriff would suspect,” she offered gently, though she didn’t sound terribly sure of herself. Amber cackled, elbowing Jimmy Jack in the side.
“Your dad is going in the slammer honey, believe me,” she murmured with a sly grin. Jimmy Jack looked as if he wanted nothing more than to strike the woman, but instead dragged his dad off the scene, back to their truck. Fang didn’t seem particularly concerned, but I had never known the old moonshiner to be nervous about much of anything. “Don’t you think? Who else would have done it? I mean, come on,” Amber continued.
“Nice detective work, Amber, but that’s Fern’s job. Not yours,” I bit out with a roll of my eyes, glancing over to Fern who seemed to be out of touch with the conversation. Suddenly, she grabbed me by the arm and pulled me away from the other women. Without a word, we slipped away from the group, and I fell into step beside my sister.
“You don’t really think..,” I began, not wanting to finish the thought. Fern scoffed, shaking her head furiously.
“It won’t go beyond speculation. I doubt the Sheriff will even have me check it out. You know how Amber is, always stirring the pot,” she said dismissively before beginning to jog ahead. To my surprise, we went around the crime scene entirely, heading towards one of the old tents that was se
t up in the battlefield. It struck me as soon as I lay eyes on Mary Jane fidgeting with the tent, and I grinned at Fern, grateful that she had thought of the idea. If anyone would know what had happened that night, it would have been the trio of spirits that hardly ever left the battlefield.
“MJ,” I called out, trying to catch her attention. She paused for a brief second, but continued to fidget with the tent as if she’d not heard me. “Mary Jane, where are the colonel and Little Timmy?” I asked, stepping up beside her. She looked extremely stressed, though I couldn’t imagine how strange the whole situation must have been for her. I mean, ghosts were people too, right? At least... at some point. Either way, It was always a bit disconcerting being unable to rest hand on her shoulder, or otherwise physically comfort her. She seemed too agitated to enjoy a good one on one talk, however, and I glanced to Fern with a pleading expression.
Mary Jane had always preferred my sister, as much as she claimed to have no preference. She was in awe of Fern’s line of work, always muttering about how times were changing so dramatically. Just the same, she wasn’t like the Colonel in the sense of hating the changes of the world around them. She seemed mostly fascinated, and sometimes a bit sad that she couldn’t experience it first hand. She was always begging Fern for stories about her job, on the rare occasion my sister visited me at work. I think Fern secretly liked the attention, and having someone to tell her stories to. So, if anyone could press the spirit for information, I was sure it was Fern.
“Mary Jane, you seem a little stressed. Is it regarding what happened last night?” Fern asked gently, leaning in to meet the ghost’s eyes. The female spirit hesitated for a moment before her expression shifted to one of obliviousness.
“I’m not quite sure what you mean. I’ve not noticed anything all that interesting,” she replied, returning her attention to the tent. I glanced at Fern from the corner of my eye, wondering if she would continue the line of questioning. However, she simply tilted her head back towards the crime scene.
“Well, when you figure out what’s going on, let me or Mazie know. Alright?” Fern requested lightly, taking me by the arm to guide me away before the spirit could even reply. As I fell into step beside my sister once more, I watched as she occasionally peered behind us, in the direction of where we’d left Mary Jane.
Her expression remained neutral for the most part, until she began to suddenly blush and hurriedly look away. I raised a brow, and she muttered something that was almost too quiet for me. “The colonel is no longer missing in action,” she said with an obviously forced casual tone, and I paused, pulling her to a stop.
“Then we should try to get information out of him as well. He’s always hanging around his statue, you know his ego. He has to know what happened,” I grinned. Fern shook her head slowly, pulling at her shirt collar with an expression that was more than vaguely uncomfortable. “What’s wrong with you? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” I pointed out, belatedly realizing what a stupid comment it was.
“Two ghosts. Doing... ghost things,” she replied, not even pointing out my verbal slip. I paused, looking at her with a curious expression. There weren’t many things that made Fern uncomfortable. Brutal crime scenes were pretty much a daily thing for her, and she wasn’t particularly bothered by violence in general- at least, aside from the obvious moral standpoint. The only thing that usually made Fern blush was... oh. Oh!
“Ghost things...the Colonel and Mary Jane?” I pressed, my lips curling into a wicked smile. She glared at me, seeming to catch on to my oblivious act almost immediately. I broke down in laughter in spite of how inappropriate it was, given the days events thus far. “Can ghosts even... I mean? They’re always in their clothes...,” I trailed off, a little more entertained than I would have liked to admit. Fern looked utterly haunted, as if she had watched some cursed taped and found out she had a limited time to live. “Come on. It couldn’t have been that bad,” I sighed, elbowing her in the side.
“I don’t make a habit of trying to see people naked, Mazie. I didn’t think it was something that would come up, you know, with spirits. Lordy mercy. I don’t think I can ever unsee that. It's hard not to think of it when I address one of them,” she said in a near panic, running a hand through her fiery curls. Fortunately, she seemed to relax once we drew near the crime scene once more. The Sheriff approached us with a grimace, giving me a once-over before gesturing for Fern to follow him. She hesitated, pulling me in for a quick hug before obliging her superior. “Take care of yourself, alright, Mazie? Hang out with Becky or someone if you’re not comfortable being alone right now,” she called back, in spite of the Sheriff seeming annoyed by the pause in their stride.
“I’ll be fine, Fern. I’m going to take Moody home and settle down with a book. It doesn’t seem like we’re going to be welcoming tourists here for a while, anyway...,” I called out.
No, perhaps THAT was the understatement of the century.
CHAPTER SIX
With the museum being closed for the time being, it left me plenty of time to wonder around town. Fern was too wrapped up in her case to pay much mind to my comings and goings, though she did occasionally use me as a sounding board. She’d gone through everyone in town: every tourist that had rented a place in the week of Dickney’s death, even the townsfolk she was close to. She refused, of course, to believe that any of our grassroots community would do something as terrible as murdering Dickney. There was no love lost between the businessman and my sister; he’d been a terrible flirt and had considered himself something of a lady’s man. Though probably at least two decades Fern’s senior, he had spent his share of time trying to get close to her. By close I mean... well, bedroom close. From a purely professional standpoint, I was sure my sister wanted to solve the murder. Personally, on the other hand? I could tell she wasn’t terribly bothered by the strange death in our small town.
Stillwater wasn’t free of its share of violent crime—otherwise, Fern would be out of a job rather quickly. It was usually an obnoxious assault case between rowdy tourists, and occasionally breaking Jimmy Jack up from a fight with someone who’d tried to rip off his father. Technically, she should have arrested JJ and Fang a long time ago. They had a lucrative business selling their moonshine to tourists and some others who were high up in rank, like a few judges and a known Sheriff, but it was anything but legal. Just the same, it had become common knowledge around town—good grief, Fang had been working the stills as long as I’d been alive. Fern didn’t make any unnecessary reports to the Sheriff, and he tended to turn the other cheek when it came to the moonshiners.
Thinking of the two, of course, drew my thoughts towards the elder moonshiner himself. Fern had been convinced that he was innocent, and refused to even present the evidence to the Sheriff. Not that I could blame her, the idea of either of us being the reason Fang was behind bars caused a rather uneasy sensation in my gut. The only cure for a sick stomach was one of Hazel’s world class milkshakes at the Stillwater Diner—don’t ask me how, but it always seemed to work. I was rather looking forward to seeing the older woman in any case. Perhaps she could provide some sort of insight into this whole thing, after all, Dickney had been trying to get a piece of her as well. One couldn’t accuse the man of being narrow minded, at least when it came to women. When it came to ruining a peaceful little town, however...
It could be argued that we were the narrow minded ones. I would willingly hold that title rather than deal with the nation’s latest and greatest splash park situated right behind my place of work. I was certain that if Dickney had his way, the town we knew would have been bulldozed into little more than rubble. First would have been the water park, eventually to be formed into some five star resort with shopping malls and hoity toity restaurants... all of that had been put to a stop. I knew it was terrible, but I was glad the problem had resolved itself one way or another. Spearing Dickney through the heart wouldn’t have been on the top of my list of solutions by any means, but...
; Well. It got the job done, to put it simply.
My stomach grumbled, seeming disgruntled that I had deprived it of Hazel’s cooking for so long. I rested a hand on my gut, making a face at the extra padding I found there. Alright, maybe I’d been having a bit much of Hazel’s cooking. In most cases, I worked off the calories by walking tourists around all day. Since the museum closed for further investigation, there had been very little for me to do besides munch on the occasional treat. It wasn’t doing much for my figure, but my mood was great, and it seemed a fair price to pay. I would think that until it came around the perfect weather to go skinny dipping in the pond on the outskirts of town. For now, the pudge was reserved for my eyes alone.
As I stepped in the diner, I decided I was in no real hurry to be rid of it either. I deserved a treat after all I’d been through—at least, that was Hazel’s opinion on the matter. I wasn’t as traumatized as I probably should have been, but I wasn’t one to deny the occasional bit of coddling. Hazel didn’t even seem to notice as I walked through the doors, however, too busy fretting around the counter and filling drinks that probably could have gone without a refill. Her anxiety was obvious to anyone who knew her, but the diner was presently filled with a group of rambunctious tourists. I was slightly annoyed at how harshly they called out to Hazel when they needed something, more than vaguely tempted to give them a piece of my mind...or their tasty plates ending up in their laps via my magic. Instead, however, I sat at the front, folding my hands on the tabletop.
“Hey... I think she’s the one that found the body,” someone whispered from behind me, but I tried to pay little mind until someone tapped me on the shoulder. Turning around with a glare that I didn’t bother to tone down, I was met by a chunky man with facial hair and thick rimmed glasses. A camera was strewn around his neck, and... good gravy, he was even wearing a Hawaiian shirt. We were in Virginia for goodness sake.
Hoodoo and Just Desserts Page 4