“Try it, big boy,” she challenged.
“Alrighty,” he said with a grin that made me kind of regret our hike. “King Tut was mummified with his Johnson erect.”
My forward motion stopped and I gaped at the chief of police. “How is that possible? I mean, is it possible?”
“Probably rigor mortis,” Dip offered as I gagged a little. “Dead bodies are a fascinating subject.”
His statement was so bizarrely appropriate for what I had planned, I almost laughed.
I didn’t, but Lindsay did.
It took all I had not to glance over at her. I was happy her sense of humor was intact considering what she’d been through and the fact that we were about to find her dead body—even if her humor was a bit morbid for my taste.
“I’ve got one,” I said as I watched Lindsay begin to shudder and point to the right of the path. “Every time you lick a stamp, you consume one-tenth of a calorie.”
“Get out of town,” Jennifer yelled. “I’m buying the self-stick ones from now on. Gotta watch my sexy figure.”
“You’re perfect just the way you are, Jenny,” Dip said as Jennifer literally swooned.
“You just want to get into my pants,” she informed him with a delighted laugh.
“TMI,” I said as I felt a tingle of dread whip through my body. It was incredibly difficult to sound normal when all I wanted to do was freak out.
“Your point?” Jennifer asked, nudging me with her elbow.
“No point,” I said, trying to keep my focus on the human conversation. “Just an observation.”
“We might be in our sixties, but we’ve still got it going on in the boudoir,” she announced as Dip blushed and stammered a bit.
I would have laughed except I was too busy wondering if the banana and peanut butter I’d eaten earlier was going to stay in my stomach.
Donna keyed in on Lindsay and darted off the trail.
“Donna,” I yelled. “Come back here.”
Donna barked like the forest was on fire. My little Hell Hound was brilliant.
“Oh shit,” I muttered as I started off the trail and into the woods.
“Step back, Daisy,” Dip Doody instructed, turning from the guy who knew about King Tut’s pecker back into the chief of police. “I’ll get Donna. There might be a wild animal.”
I said nothing. We didn’t have many wild animals around here other than deer, opossum, foxes and a few coyotes, but Dip taking the lead was perfect for the outcome I desired.
“That man is as fine as a frog hair split four ways,” Jennifer gushed with a happy sigh as he disappeared into the dense woods.
“You’re going to marry him, aren’t you?” I asked with a shake of my head.
“He does like my junk in the trunk, and I like the junk in his jeans,” she said with a giggle. “But you know what I really like?”
“Umm… his butt?” I asked, terrified of her answer.
“Well, of course. You could bounce a quarter off that fine ass,” she overshared. “I love that he gets me and likes me anyway.”
Jennifer rendered me silent. She did that often, but mostly because she’d grossed me out. This time it was because her statement moved me. It was beautiful.
“So, he’s going to be husband number six?” I asked.
“Hell to the no,” Jennifer said, throwing her little hands in the air. “We’re gonna get permanently engaged.”
“Mmmkay,” I said. “Not following.”
“I have shit luck with marriage. I love that man too much to marry him. Every time I’ve chained myself to a man, it ends in divorce. Not gonna happen with my Dip Doody.”
“That might be the smartest thing you’ve ever said,” I told her.
“Nah,” she said with a wicked little grin. “Smartest thing I’ve said is that a whale’s penis is called a dork.”
“You made that up,” I said, trying not to laugh since my body felt like a live wire knowing what was about to happen.
I failed. Jennifer was good like that. I really did love my friends.
“I most certainly did not make that up,” she replied, crossing her heart.
“Jenny,” Dip called out. “Need you to call the station. I need backup.”
“Are you okay?” she asked, getting frantic.
“I’m fine,” he said.
“Then why don’t you call?” she asked, confused.
“You have my phone, darlin’. I have a little issue down here.”
“Is Donna okay?” I yelled, walking into the woods.
“She’s fine,” Dip said. “Y’all might not want to come down here.”
“Why?” Jennifer demanded, marching right past me as she called the station house.
No one told Jennifer what to do, not even the chief of police.
The scene wasn’t bloody. It was oddly quiet and calm. Considering the way Lindsay had died, I’d expected it to be horrifying. Not that it wasn’t horrifying to see human bones, but it wasn’t what I’d thought it would be. My heartbeat accelerated, and my chest tightened, but I also felt so much relief I wanted to drop to my knees and weep with joy.
Instead, I simply stared. I forced myself to separate Lindsay my friend from her bones on the ground.
The bones were scattered from the elements, and I suppose the wildlife. I quickly pushed the macabre thought away. The visual was too much. In the short time I’d known Lindsay, I already loved her. I’d lived through her death with her. I didn’t want to imagine what had come next.
Lindsay floated over her bones and pointed to something shiny on the ground. I gave her a tiny nod and approached what used to be my new friend.
“Oh my God,” Jennifer gasped out and slapped her hand over her mouth in horror. “Is it a woman or a man?”
Dip sounded weary and sad as he looked down at the bones and sighed. “Looks like a female skeleton. You can tell by the pelvis,” he said, squatting down and examining the bones. “That part of a female is adapted for gestation. It’s not as high as a male’s and it’s wider.”
My eyes filled with tears. They were happy tears, not that Dip or Jennifer would know. The expression on Lindsay’s decomposing face was so peaceful, she appeared angelic.
Lindsay’s bones were about to sing.
“What’s that?” I asked, pointing to the shiny object on the ground tangled in the bones that had once formed Lindsay’s hand.
“Looks like a medical bracelet,” Dip said, moving over to the object and taking a look. “Apparently someone by the name of Scott Macon is deathly allergic to bees.”
“You think that’s Scott?” Jennifer asked, sitting down on the ground in her distress.
“No, Jenny girl,” Dip said, glancing over at her. “The victim is a woman.”
“You think she was murdered?” I asked, wanting to make sure we were going in the correct direction.
Dip nodded and blew out a long, slow breath. “I do. Look at the poor girl’s skull. It was bashed in. I’d guess these bones to be about a year old, give or take a few months. Probably no DNA evidence on the killer would be left due to the elements, but you better believe I’m gonna find out who this little gal was.”
Dip was a very smart man.
“Scott Macon did it,” Jennifer shouted, pointing at the bracelet on the ground. “I could be a cop!”
“Maybe,” Dip said, shaking his head. “If it is Scott Macon, it’ll be the easiest dang case I’ve ever solved.”
I had no intention of telling him, but it was indeed going to be the easiest dang case he’d ever solved.
I just hoped that Scott Macon was arrogant enough to have stayed in Atlanta. If he did inherit his father’s fortune, my guess was that he was living it up in style.
The backup arrived, and Jennifer and I made our way back to the trail.
“I’m never going hiking again,” Jennifer griped as we waited for Dip.
“I’m kind of with you on that,” I said, glancing around for Lindsay.
&nbs
p; If she went into the light without me, I would be heartbroken. Yet, at the same time, I would be happy. Lindsay deserved peace. I was humbled that I got to be a small part of it.
After about an hour, Dip joined us with Donna on his heels. “The boys will take care of it now,” he said. “You gals okay?”
I nodded. Showing my excitement would be bizarre and wrong. Mostly, I was thankful the plan had worked.
“Do you think Scott Macon is the murderer?” Jennifer asked as we walked back to where we’d parked our cars.
“I made a call after talking with my men. Turns out Scott Macon’s sister went missing about a year ago—right before their rich daddy passed,” Dip said darkly. “Young gal named Lindsay Macon.”
Lindsay’s name on his lips sent chills skittering up my spine. I knew Lindsay was dead. This was no surprise. However, when the chief of police said her name, everything became cold and factual. Lindsay simply became a statistic. She was so much more than that to me.
“Holy shitballs,” Jennifer said, going pale. “Her brother murdered her for the inheritance.”
“Can’t be jumpin’ to conclusions, but it doesn’t look real good for Scott Macon right now,” Dip said.
“Will you have a case?” I asked.
“I’m not a lawyer,” Dip said. “We’re gonna gather up all the evidence carefully then the DA will take over.”
Again, I nodded. Heather knew everyone in the law world of Georgia. I’d make triple sure that the DA who took the case enjoyed bringing people to justice.
Chapter Nine
“You did good, Daisy,” Heather said, handing me a plate of homemade peanut butter cookies.
“You baked?” I asked, surprised as I bit into a delicious cookie.
Heather was a fabulous lawyer, a dear friend and an all-around kickass person, but she was a disaster at baking. She made a mean pot sticker, but I’d never met a cookie or pie that she hadn’t destroyed or burned beyond recognition.
“Heck no,” she said, sitting down at the kitchen table and nibbling on a cookie. “June and Charlie stopped by. June baked the cookies.”
“They were here?” I asked. “At my house?”
“Umm… yes,” she said. “I did not bake these cookies, which we should both be thrilled about, and I haven’t left the house.”
“Why were they here?”
Heather sighed and ate the rest of her cookie while I waited. “June wanted to bring you cookies.”
“And?” I pressed.
“And Charlie had some information.”
“How did that work?” I asked, squinting at her as I dragged the plate of cookies over so they were sitting in front of me. Sugar was a necessity if I was going to make it through the rest of the day.
“He slipped me a letter,” Heather said.
“Are you going to tell me what it said?” I covered the cookies with my body, keeping them hostage until she gave up the goods.
“I am.” She sighed. “But first tell me about Lindsay.”
Her hesitation to share the news was worrisome. However, I would play along. It had been a rough afternoon and I needed a short break before I took in anything else.
“I think she went into the light. Breaks my heart because I’ll miss her, but I’m happy about it,” I told Heather, letting her have a cookie.
“Nope,” Heather said. “She’s upstairs watching over Steve. She got back long before you did. She hasn’t left his side.”
“Why?” I asked aloud. It was more a question directed at myself since I was aware Heather couldn’t understand the ghosts like I did.
“Not sure,” Heather admitted. “But Steve seems calmer in her presence.”
That was a mystery to be unraveled later. I had another puzzle to put together first.
“Interesting,” I said, wondering how well the dead could communicate with each other and if Lindsay and Steve were talking. I’d never asked my dead guests that particular question. I needed to remedy that.
“Lindsay’s bones sang just like she said they would,” I told Heather as we both ate cookies like we were starving and hadn’t eaten in a week. “Her brother’s medical bracelet was wrapped around the bones from her hand, implicating him. Dip called his name in and connected them as sister and brother.”
“Excellent. What was the medical bracelet for?” Heather asked.
“Apparently, the greedy, murdering asshole is deathly allergic to bees.”
“How inconvenient for him,” Heather muttered with disgust.
“He lives in Atlanta. Do you know the DA in Atlanta?”
Heather nodded. “I do. I’ll be making a call.”
“Thank you,” I said, glancing down at the empty cookie plate. “Are there more?”
“Is June the sweetest, cutest woman in the Universe?” Heather inquired with a lopsided grin.
“Yes. The answer is yes,” I said without hesitation. It was the truth.
“Correct.” She grabbed a bright orange plastic container from the counter and plopped it in front of me. “June bakes for an army. Always.”
“Thank God for that,” I replied, digging in.
“Amen, sister,” Heather agreed as she joined me. “Amen.”
“That’s not really news,” I said, watching Karen examine the outdoor trashcan with great interest. So far, she hadn’t been able to get it open, but she clearly had nefarious plans.
“Yes and no,” Heather agreed, picking up a stick and tossing it for Donna. “We’ll meet tomorrow. More will be revealed.”
“Oh my God,” I said with a strained grunt of laughter. “That sounded like a line from a bad B movie discussing a secret society.”
Heather shrugged and tossed another stick since Karen had stolen the first one from Donna. “If the shoe fits…”
“Who will be there?” I asked.
“Clarence, Charlie, Tim, you, me and possibly a few others,” she told me.
My body grew tense and my voice tight. “A few others?”
“Not Clarissa,” Heather assured me. “She’s not welcome back to this plane until the tribunal.”
I heaved a sigh of relief, but then felt light-headed and off-balance. “Gideon?” I whispered.
Heather was silent as she accepted the stick from Donna and tossed it again. “No. And that is an issue.”
“Why?”
“Because he needs to be here and no one knows how to reach him,” she replied.
I digested that for a few minutes. My heart still felt raw and torn apart where Gideon was concerned, but I had no one to thank for that except myself. I’d destroyed any chance I had at real love, and now it seemed like I might have destroyed the chance for a tribunal to help Steve as well. My track record was abysmal and possibly catastrophic.
“No one?” I whispered.
“That’s what we’re going to figure out tomorrow.”
“How?” I pressed, wanting information she didn’t have.
“Remains to be seen, Daisy. I’ve asked June to come by tomorrow and sit with the dogs while we’re out.”
“Didn’t she think that was odd?” I questioned. She didn’t know Steve was here, and the point of someone being here was to protect him.
“Karen ate part of the couch,” Heather informed me. “I told June the dogs couldn’t be trusted and it would take a load off your mind if she stayed with them.”
“She bought that?” I asked, doubting the merits of having June here while I was out. I had a mail fraud box and so much superglue it could raise questions. However, June was not nosey at all. I couldn’t imagine her snooping in a million years. I was fully aware Karen had eaten part of the couch. I’d covered it with one of Gram’s afghans but obviously hadn’t hidden the destruction well enough.
“Bought it hook, line and sinker. Even said she might be able to repair the sofa. I also told her if Clarissa stopped by to call the police and me.”
“Clarissa is in the light. You told me she couldn’t get to Steve,” I said, my voic
e rising in alarm. “What don’t I know?”
Heather took my hand and pulled me over to the porch swing. “Clarissa is in the light. She isn’t allowed to do anything to Steve or take him anywhere. However, she’s tricky.”
“Explain,” I snapped, feeling a massive headache coming on.
“Clarissa is a rule follower to a certain point,” Heather said, slowly. “She would never touch Steve right now because she would have to forfeit all of her powers and her title if she broke the rules.”
“Okay,” I said. Relief washed over me. “Then what gives?”
“If she slips back through the veil, she could go after you.”
My fury spiked and my body tingled with rage. Needing an outlet for my ire, I walked out into my yard and straight to the largest oak tree. It was probably two hundred years old. I was aware I was about to break one or both of my hands, but I needed some physical pain to remove the need to peel my skin from my body. Running forever might help, but that was out of the question. Punching a tree was not. Plus, the tree would be fine.
Me? I didn’t care.
My eyes rested on the pattern of the bark. It was cracked and chaotic like the thoughts racing through my head. The crisp, brown late-fall leaves underneath my tennis shoes were as lifeless as the ghosts who suddenly surrounded me. I circled the tree. The leaves crunched under my feet. The sound was strangely satisfying.
The gnarled limbs of my favorite tree were twisted and naked. The enormous size represented power to me—power that was elusive. Power I would never have.
Making a fist and keeping my thumb on the outside like I’d learned in my self-defense class at the Y, I reared back and laid into the tree.
“Daisy,” Heather yelled. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Letting out a little steam,” I shouted back and punched the tree again.
My knuckles were bleeding and I felt the impact of the punches all the way up to my shoulders. It was tremendous and liberating. I wanted more.
“Daisy, stop,” Heather insisted, sprinting over to my side and grabbing my arms. “This will result in nothing except a trip to the hospital.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” I said, breaking out of her strong grip with surprising ease. “It’s solving a lot. Trust me.”
Whose Midlife Crisis Is It Anyway? : A Paranormal Women's Fiction Novel: Good To The Last Death Book Two Page 10