The Body from the Past

by Judi Lynn

  With a curt nod, the Realtor led them back upstairs and outside, then locked up behind them. “If you see another house you’re interested in, give me a call.”

  They watched him drive away, then Ansel said, “You can’t trust that man. I’d find someone else.”

  Radley’s shoulders stooped in disappointment. Elspeth wrapped her arm through his. “There’ll be more houses. We’ll find one we like.” Then she turned to them. “Thanks for saving us from a money pit. Let’s grab some Coneys and stop at our place to eat.”

  They didn’t stay long. Radley tried to be good company, but he looked totally deflated. Ansel had bought a plain hot dog for George, and as soon as they finished eating, they made excuses and headed for home.

  That night, after they’d showered and changed into pajamas, Ansel hit the couch, and Jazzi sat next to Jessica’s hope chest to look through more of her things. She’d meant to read through most of them by now, but life had been busy. Jessica remained in the back of her mind, though. She dug until she found Jessica’s journal for her senior year of high school. And as she read, she loved Jessica even more.

  People keep telling me that I’m lucky. I’m pretty, they say, and smart. Boys stare at me, but I haven’t found one who really cares about me. RJ asked me to go steady with him, but every time Tilly enters a room, he can’t help watching her. He knows I notice, and he knows it makes me feel second best, but he can’t help it. He got more agitated the closer it got to prom. He wants his Tilly, so I broke up with him. And he asked her to go with him the next day. I’m happy for them. Then Kelsey broke up with Damian, and he asked me to the prom. Damian’s tall and good-looking, genuinely nice, but all he did was watch Kelsey while we danced. So I broke up with him, too. What’s wrong with me? Why doesn’t someone look at me that way?

  Her next entry tugged at Jazzi’s heart even more. RJ, Damian, and I are great friends now, but their girlfriends resent me. If they only knew. My best friends tell me not to worry about it, that people don’t realize how nice I am, but I wish I was more popular, that more people liked me. I’m so awkward. I don’t make friends easily.

  Jazzi flipped through more pages.

  Lila started a rumor about me, that I broke up with Damian because I was pregnant with RJ’s baby, but RJ’s so popular that it backfired on her. Now she hates me more than ever. Three pages later, she wrote, I won our region’s tennis tournament and made an enemy for life. Nadia was trying for a sports scholarship. I didn’t know. But I wouldn’t have lost on purpose anyway. Why do more people hate me than like me?

  Her last entry read, My mother’s giving a party for my graduation. I’m going to be glad to leave Merlot. My friends are all going off to school, and I wouldn’t see them anyway. My father’s furious at me, as usual. Ruth Goggins can’t say enough bad things about me. Neither can Nadia and Lila. It might be nice to start over, to find people who are interested in the same things I am. Maybe life will be better after high school.

  Jazzi bit her bottom lip. Jessica never found her better life. And she’d deserved it.

  Chapter 13

  When they walked up to the Merlot house, Jerod was standing at the front door, staring at the staircase, his hands on his hips. Always a bad sign. They stopped beside him.

  “Well?” Ansel asked.

  “We need to refinish the stairs and railings. The floors look so good, it makes them look shabby.”

  Jazzi frowned. “I thought we were going to prime and paint today.”

  Her cousin looked at her. She knew that look. “Would you mind working on the bedrooms while Ansel and I work on this?”

  She could live with that. She agreed with a shrug. “Six of one, half a dozen of the other.”

  He grinned. “Good. I already took the paint, rollers, and brushes up there, along with the drop cloths.”

  “Let me put the cooler in the kitchen and I’ll get started.”

  Jerod glanced at the cooler, at the way she was carrying it. “You’re being careful with that. What’s for lunch?”

  The man didn’t miss anything. “I had frozen pasties in the freezer, thawed them last night, and brought them to pop in the oven for a few minutes. Thought I’d bring a salad, too.”

  “You’re a good woman, cuz.”

  “Tell me about it.” But she did love to spoil her cousin. She put the food in the refrigerator and closed the cooler, leaving the cans of soda on ice. While she did that, Ansel moved George’s dog bed to the living room, where he could watch the men work. Jazzi watched the pug settle and close his eyes. He’d open them on occasion to supervise. Then she headed upstairs.

  Taping around windows and woodwork took what felt like forever, but once she had that done, the priming went fast. She decided to stop for lunch while the primer dried; then she could start painting. They’d decided on neutral colors: Martha Stewart’s sharkey gray for the master bedroom and honeysuckle—a soft, soothing yellow—for the four others.

  Jerod and Ansel were sanding the handrail when she zipped down to the kitchen to put the pasties in the oven. “Will you be finished with that soon?” she asked.

  Jerod nodded. “We can wipe it down before we eat, then stain it after lunch. Do you want to paint down here while we stain? We don’t need to prime these walls, and then the ground floor would look pretty good if someone knocks on the door and wants to see it.”

  “You keep changing your mind. I thought you wanted me to paint upstairs.”

  “I did, but I was thinking about Ruth’s nephew coming. If the rooms look good, maybe he’ll spread the word about how the place is coming along.”

  They’d sold houses before they were finished a few times, the market was so tight. He might have a point. She groaned. “I’ll have to tape everything again.” Not one of her favorite jobs.

  “I’ll help with that,” Ansel said. “You and I can paint while Jerod works on the staircase. Two people can’t really stain together anyway; not enough room.”

  Jerod nodded. “I’m okay with that. You?”

  “Sure, if Ansel helps. Between the two of us, we might even finish all the rooms but the kitchen.”

  “We’re gutting that anyway.” Jerod put down his sander and reached for a rag. “And we’ll help you paint upstairs after we finish down here.”

  Ansel’s gaze swept the area. “Can we bring the card table out here to eat? Then we can study the rooms over lunch and maybe come up with a few more ideas.”

  Her Norseman loved renovating and coming up with new suggestions for the spaces they worked on. Jerod was always mindful of the bottom line—how much profit they’d make on each project—but Ansel enjoyed making each room special almost as much as she did, so she carted the card table and chairs into the living room. They filled their plates in the kitchen and ate where they could see what they were talking about.

  “I still can’t think of anything to do with the fireplace, the opening’s so big,” Jerod complained. “The stones are a great feature, but no one needs that big a fire.”

  “I saw a magazine where owners put a black, cast-iron stove inside the opening and still had room to put a basket filled with wood on one side of it and a tall vase with fake flowers on the other. It looked really cool.”

  Ansel narrowed his eyes, trying to picture it. “Can you find the magazine?”

  She got up to get her purse. “I think I tore out the page to show you but forgot.” She returned with it, and both men smiled.

  “Okay, we still haven’t decided on the backsplash for the kitchen,” Ansel said.

  Jerod waved that away. “We can do that later. None of us can agree on anything yet. Maybe we’ll know if we can up the budget for it by then.”

  Ansel liked that idea. “Spending a little more would be nice.”

  They’d agreed on a rich cream color for the downstairs walls—not a white and not a yellow—but luxurio
us, so after cleaning up and putting the card table and chairs away, they got busy. Jerod stained the stairs while Ansel and Jazzi climbed ladders to start taping. Once they finished that, they used long rollers to paint the ceilings white. With only one color for every room, they got the study, dining room, living room, and hallway finished before Ruth Goggins rang the front doorbell at four thirty.

  Jazzi glanced at the clock and pressed her lips together. Her shirt was speckled with sprays of paint and a bandanna covered her head. What did the woman want now? But when she went to answer the door, a tall, young man stood next to her. Of course he’d be tall, probably six feet. He’d been on the basketball team. He must be RJ.

  He grinned when he saw her. “That color looks good on you.”

  Jazzi wrinkled her nose. Right. Nothing brought out a woman’s earthy beauty like splatters of paint. RJ wasn’t especially good-looking, but when he smiled, his whole face lit up. She bet he had lots of personality. She opened the door wider. “You must be Ruth’s nephew, RJ. Come in. We’ve opened up the house, but the paint fumes are still strong.”

  He and Ruth stepped inside. She put a hand over her nose, but RJ let out a low whistle. “I like what you’ve done.”

  Always happy to talk about one of their fixer-uppers, Jerod came to greet them. “Hi, I’m Jerod.” They shook hands. “We’re going to gut the kitchen next.” Stepping back, he motioned to the staircase. “Just refinished it. It makes all the difference.”

  Ruth stepped farther inside and pursed her lips. “Good, you haven’t done anything too outrageous.”

  Jazzi rolled her eyes. Was that the best compliment the woman could come up with? It would probably choke her to say anything too nice.

  RJ had no such trouble. “The old place needed a little sprucing up. You’re making it look great.”

  A car drove into Ruth’s driveway next door, and she grimaced. “I have to go. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” She rushed to meet her guest.

  RJ smiled. “I give her two minutes. She won’t be able to stand missing anything we talk about.”

  And he was right. Two minutes later, Ruth was back. Ansel went to the door to let her in. Ruth glanced up at him. “I told Marigold I’d call her later. I want to be able to spend time with RJ.”

  The boy’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “I was telling them what a nice girl Jessica was.”

  Ruth’s shoulders stiffened. “I don’t know what you ever saw in her.”

  “I liked her almost as much as I love my Tilly.”

  Ruth glared. “I don’t know what you saw in that girl either. Her father works in a factory and her mother’s a school librarian. We all know that job doesn’t amount to much.”

  “All of us kids loved her,” RJ said. “She picked the best stories to read us.”

  Ruth puckered her lips in a sour expression.

  “How long have you and Tilly been married?” Jazzi asked.

  “Six years now, and for picking the wrong girl, we’ve been awfully happy. We went to River Bluffs to culinary school before moving to Ohio. Now we own and run a food truck together.”

  He’d caught her interest.

  His grin grew broader. “The kind you take to fairs and festivals. We travel a lot. We’re known for our pork tenderloin sandwiches and fried vegetable baskets.”

  “Love both,” Ansel said. Jerod nodded agreement.

  Ruth’s lips turned down. “He hardly ever comes to visit me these days.”

  “Summer and fall are our busiest times. But, boy, being in this house sure brings back memories.”

  Jazzi studied him. “May I ask why you broke up with Tilly in your senior year?”

  He laughed. “Because I was a dimwit. We’d gone steady since our freshman year, and I was afraid I might be missing out on something better. I was never so miserable as when I got what I thought I wanted—Jessica Hodgkill. Tilly never forgave Jessica for that, but I’m the one she should blame.”

  “If you liked Jessica so much, why go back to Tilly?”

  “Because Tilly was more my speed. Jessica had big, lofty dreams. Not my style. And every other guy in my class was hitting on Tilly the minute I broke up with her. I kept thinking I was going to lose her, and that drove me crazy.”

  Because he was in the mood to reminisce, Jazzi asked, “Do you remember anything about the party when Jessica died?”

  “Like it was seared in my brain.” He took a deep breath. “She screamed all the way down.”

  “Where were you when it happened? Do you remember who was with you?”

  He glanced at his aunt and squirmed. “I was in the kitchen with Felicity, hiding from Aunt Ruth.”

  Ruth’s jaw dropped and she turned to glare at him.

  He grimaced. “Love ya, Ruth, but I liked Jessica and you didn’t, and when I saw you looking for me, I didn’t want a lecture.”

  Jazzi frowned. “Tilly wasn’t with you?”

  “No, I left her in the backyard, near the buffet line. The brats, burgers, and hot dogs were on a table near the grill. People were loading their plates.”

  Jazzi made a mental note of that. Ruth gave her a hard look. “I think we’d better go now. We’ve wasted enough of your time.”

  On their way out the door, Jazzi heard her say, “How stupid are you? She was checking for alibis, and now you don’t have one.”

  “Sure I do. I was with Felicity—she’ll remember. And I’m glad someone cares about Jessica being murdered.” She could hear RJ’s grumble. “I didn’t kill Jessica, so I don’t have to worry.”

  “But what about Tilly?”

  “She was in line for food, and Jessica’s dad was working the grill. People can vouch for her, too.”

  They’d gone far enough, Jazzi couldn’t hear the rest, but she was glad she could rule out RJ and Tilly as suspects. She kept Ruth’s name on her list, though. RJ had just said that Ruth was at the graduation party when Jessica fell. She’d wondered about that.

  Jerod’s blue eyes twinkled when he looked at her. “That woman’s going to like you less and less.”

  Big deal. “Then it’s mutual.”

  With a laugh, Jerod started picking up his sander and rags. She and Ansel began cleaning up, too. Half an hour later, they grabbed George, locked up, and drove away.

  Chapter 14

  They didn’t shower when they got home, just fed the pets, played with them awhile, then went to the basement and put up the last two walls of drywall. The cats loved it, chasing each other through the room and around the sawhorses they’d set up; George—not so much. He found a faraway corner, out of the way, to stay in. Jazzi had meant to make another pot of soup for lunch tomorrow, but that would have to wait for some other day. Instead, she boiled a dozen eggs to make egg salad in the morning—Jerod and Ansel were both partial to it—while she made pork chops and rice for a quick supper.

  George was a fan of pork and begged more than usual. Then they cleaned the kitchen, showered, and relaxed for an hour before bed. Even with an early night, the alarm rang too soon the next morning. Working double shifts was getting to Jazzi. She dragged herself downstairs to make the egg salad, ate the two slices of pumpernickel toast Ansel pushed in front of her, and tried to wake herself up on the drive to Merlot.

  Ansel glanced her way, looking guilty. “You’re going to sell me pretty soon, aren’t you? I’m pushing you too hard.”

  “You want the basement done before Halloween.”

  “But I still want a wife who likes me.”

  She laughed. “Invite your buddies to our house again tonight and put them to work. Splurge. We’re on the home stretch. Buy them each a meat lover’s pizza, whatever it takes.”

  “I’m ahead of you. They’re coming at six. You’ll be eating and drinking with the girls by then.”

  She smiled. “You’re a good man. What do you want to ge
t done?”

  “I warned them to wear junk clothes. Taping and mudding the drywall.”

  She wouldn’t miss having to do that. When they reached the Merlot house and went inside, Jerod didn’t look any perkier than she did.

  “What happened?” Ansel asked.

  “Pete’s cutting teeth. He’s grumpy and has diaper rash and diarrhea. He’s kept Franny up the past two nights, so it was my turn last night.”

  Trying to cheer him, Ansel said, “Jazzi brought egg salad today.”

  Jerod turned to her. “I’d hug you, but my work clothes are so dirty, you might not appreciate it.”

  She looked him up and down. “It’s the thought that counts.”

  He laughed. “Today’s going to be fun and games. Thought we’d tape heavy plastic over the kitchen archway, then gut it. If we have time, we can paint it before we lay flooring.”

  They’d have time. The kitchen cabinets were so old, they were going to bust them apart and toss them in the dumpster. Lots easier than trying to keep them intact to save.

  Ansel strapped on his tool belt and picked up his sledgehammer. He looked like a marauding Viking. “Might as well get to it.”

  They left George’s dog bed in the living room because the kitchen was going to be such a mess. Soon, they were smashing top and bottom cupboards apart. The walls behind them were in such good shape, all they had to do was scrub them down before painting them. They’d agreed on sky-blue to offset the new white cupboards they’d ordered. Those were being delivered on Monday, along with the appliances.

  While they ate lunch, Ansel looked at the boxes of tiles they’d splurged on for the floor. “You know, a backsplash with this same white and blue pattern, only smaller, would look great in here.”

  It would. Jazzi looked at Jerod for his reaction. Her cousin sighed. “You’re right. Why not? Kitchens help sell a house.” He reached for another sandwich, then roused himself enough to ask, “What are you guys up to tonight? It’s Thursday. You always go out.”