by Catie Rhodes
“I don’t see how you stand working for him.” I watched Dean carefully. What he said in the next few seconds would determine whether we’d have a repeat performance.
“If only I had known before I hired on.” Dean blew out a sigh. “I was in such a hurry to get out of Louisiana that I jumped.”
“Think you’re gonna quit?” I had to ask. If he was on his way out of Burns County, I could handle it. But I needed to know so I could pretend it didn’t matter.
He turned to me, and we watched each other for a long moment. Seeming to decide something, he leaned against his dresser, curling his fingers over the edges. Only the whiteness of his fingers gave away his trepidation. I stopped dressing and gave him my full attention.
“Next year’s the sheriff’s election.” He said no more. There was no need. He planned to stay. I released a relieved breath I hadn’t even been aware of holding.
“There’s been a Holze in the sheriff’s seat since the 1940s,” I said. “They own that office. You’ve got a fight ahead of you.”
“This’ll be like a chess game. You know who has the power in this county. Didn’t you dream of espionage and high stakes as a kid? Here’s your chance to live your fantasies.” Dean slipped a denim jacket over his shoulder holster.
I lived my fantasies a few minutes ago, I thought. The mistrustful part of me told me to be careful, because Dean might use me. I shut it down, determined to let this play out naturally.
“I’m game,” I said. “You ready to go see the GTO?”
Dean crossed the room, his steps slow and careful. When he reached me, he pulled me to him and leaned his forehead against mine.
“I can’t show up with you. Stay here,” he said and kissed my nose, “wait on me to get back.”
“I’ll go on home. I’ve got to get an early start anyway.”
“You are determined not to spend tonight with me. Why?” He traced my jawline with one finger, and I shivered.
I sat on the bed and pushed my feet into my cowboy boots. He watched me, waiting for my answer. I gave it in the form of a shrug. He nodded and held out his hand to me.
We walked outside with our hands linked. Dean leaned me up against the car and kissed me. Feeling eyes on us, I broke the kiss and glanced around. A shadowy figure stood in the window of the neighboring house.
“This’ll be all over town by nine this morning,” I said.
Dean shrugged, kissed me again, and got in his Trans Am. He turned the key, but nothing happened. He tried several more times as I looked on. Finally, I leaned down to the window.
“Need a ride?”
Dean slumped. I skipped to my car, elated I’d get to see the action.
***
Dean asked me not to drive him right up to the burning GTO. I parked a short distance away and stayed in the car.
The fire had been extinguished, but smoke still rose from the wreck. The glossy black paint was bubbled and ruined. The stench of roasting flesh hung in the air. State Troopers and Burns County Sheriff’s Deputies milled around the car, shining their flashlights on the interior. Sure enough, I saw two people sitting in the car. Given the conditions, it had to be two dead someones.
I hoped the bodies were Veronica Spinelli and Billy Ryder. Veronica had driven Rae to blackmail Benny, which had motivated Benny to…I shivered at the thought. I watched as Dean showed his badge to a State Trooper and the two shook hands.
Sheriff Holze pulled up in his personal car. He got out and duck walked toward the knot of law enforcement officers, red and blue lights flashing over his chubby body. He walked up to Dean and pointed at my car. Dean jogged over to me, and I rolled down the window.
“You better go home, Nancy Drew.” He smiled. “There’s a good possibility the Texas Rangers will take over the case as soon as the Veronica Spinelli and Billy Ryder angle comes out. Holze is furious and seeing you pissed him off even more.”
“What’d you tell him?” I knew I shouldn’t ask. If Dean had lied about our relationship, his answer would hurt me. But it would hurt him if he didn’t lie.
“I told him I was off duty, and none of his business.” Dean narrowed his eyes as he watched Holze talking to the State Troopers.
“Are the bodies in the car Veronica Spinelli and Billy Ryder?” I asked.
Dean shrugged and glanced back at the crime scene. I followed his gaze and gasped at what I saw. A familiar woman stepped from the car. I thought her alive until I noticed the cooked flesh on her arms and legs. As though sensing my presence, she turned to stare at me. I cranked the car.
“Dean, I don’t think it’s Veronica.” I tugged at the sleeve of his jacket.
“How do you—“
“Just listen,” I said. “Find out where that woman who bartends at Long Time Gone is. I think Wade said her name was Olivia. He didn’t give me a last name. I think that might be her in the car.”
Dean glanced back at the car. “You can’t…”
“You said you know I’m not a fake, right?” I put the car in gear.
Some emotion I didn’t recognize flashed over Dean’s face. He straightened his posture, and it was gone. “I’ll check into it. Be careful driving home.”
I gave him a half-hearted wave and turned the car around in the road. Tears burned my eyes, my throat tightened. I hated the way I was. This would have worked—for about a month—if Dean hadn’t known the truth about me. But I made him uncomfortable. I gave Dean a wistful once-over as I drove away. He caught my eye and smiled and mimed for me to call him.
I wanted to, but I wondered if I should just let it go. Consider this an enjoyable booty call and move on. I drove the short distance to Memaw’s and pulled into the carport. The house was dark, matching my mood.
I crept through the house, too aware of the pleasant soreness good sex left behind. I undressed in the darkness of my bedroom. My clothes smelled like Dean, and I threw them across the room. I didn’t want to think about him right then. If I did, I’d remember the way he looked when I told him about Olivia.
TWENTY-ONE
THURSDAY morning, I raced around in a frenzy. I had a job to get to, but my cellphone wouldn’t quit ringing. Everybody who made money off H & H Week had some last minute work they wanted done.
Three short raps sounded on the front door. I muttered a curse and raced out of the bathroom only to see Memaw headed for the door. She waved me off. Rather than go back to the bathroom, I waited to see who it was. Seeing Olivia’s ghost last night meant Veronica Spinelli was still out there.
Memaw spoke pleasantly to the person at the door and sent them on their way before I had a chance to come closer. She turned holding a vase of roses. Amusement danced in her eyes, and that made me happier than the flowers. She carried the flowers into the kitchen and set them on the middle of the table. I plucked the card from the plastic holder and opened it.
Spend the night with me next time. – D.
The happy glow of euphoria spread though me.
“That’s the first smile I’ve seen from you all morning.” Memaw took her oatmeal out of the microwave and stirred it. “Is it from whoever you were with last night? He actually has money for something like this?”
I nodded and had to restrain myself from skipping back to the bathroom to finish getting ready. The flowers didn’t mean Dean could handle my seeing ghosts, but they did mean he would try. That alone made my heart freeze. In a good way.
***
The Thursday before the Saturday H & H street dance was always crazy. Every room in every bed and breakfast and hotel had been rented. A couple thousand extra people filled Gaslight City to bursting. Traffic moved slower than ever. I had to park several blocks away from my first job.
I had been wrong about the whole town knowing about Dean and me by nine that morning. It was nine-thirty before the first person asked me when Dean and I became a couple. I worked three different jobs that day and fielded no fewer than twenty questions about Dean.
What part of Louisia
na did he come from? I didn’t know. Was that last name French? I didn’t know that either. Where did he go to school? Beats me. Well, what did I know about him? That he looked as good out of his clothes as in them. That one went over like a fart in church.
By day’s end, I buzzed with the excitement of a new relationship. It didn’t matter if I actually had one or not. I walked to my car, parked on the outer edges of BFE, a silly grin on my face. I didn’t hear Dean calling my name until the second or third time. I turned with a smile on my face, but it went south when I saw the look on Dean’s face.
“Wanted you to know Benny was arraigned about an hour ago.” Dean swept his arm out as though throwing something away. “Bail was set, and he met it. He’s back out on the streets.”
“Money helps.” It did. Sooner Dean learned that about Gaslight City, the better.
“That arrogant shithead.” Dean balled his hands into fists. “He actually sneered at me on the way out of the courtroom.”
“Thanks for the flowers. They were gorgeous.” Just remembering them made me smile.
Dean shook off the irritation, changing courses so fast it made me dizzy. “Does that mean you’ll come over tonight?”
I didn’t answer but gave him a kiss that let him know my intent. We parted ways, and I resumed the walk to my car. My route took me past the museum. With dark falling, lights spilled from inside the museum. I glanced inside.
Hannah Kessler, looking as flustered as I’d ever seen her, stood in front of a huge group of people. She couldn’t take them all on a tour at once. She wouldn’t be audible over that many people rustling and coughing, and it would take forever to guide them through the displays.
Because Dean had made me feel good, and because I owed Hannah one, I went inside. The look of relief on Hannah’s face almost made me laugh. I winked at her.
“Howdy, folks. I’m Peri Jean Mace. I bet at least one of you has heard of the Mace Treasure. Let me see a show of hands.”
About half the group raised their hands.
“Well, my ancestor was Reginald Mace—the guy who hid the treasure and founded this town.”
An excited murmur rose from the group. Hannah flashed me a grateful smile.
“Sorry I’m late,” I said to Hannah. “How do you want to split up this group? I’ll start my group on one end of the museum, and you start your group on the other.”
Two hours later, Hannah locked the museum door and turned the sign to “Closed.” Talking loud had made my throat scratchy, and my feet ached from walking.
“I never realized I knew so much about the Mace Treasure.”
“You were great,” Hannah said. “I think the ones who didn’t get in your group wished they had.”
We stood there looking at each other. I owed Hannah more than she did me. In a weird sort of way, I had come to depend on Hannah over the last couple of weeks. She was there every time I needed someone. Isn’t that the definition of friend?
“I’ve got a few free hours tomorrow. Last-minute cancellation. Want me to come by and help?”
“This place has been a madhouse. Of course, I want you to come by and help. I’ll even pay you for your time.”
“I won’t accept your money,” I said. “This is the kind of thing friends do for each other.”
“You’re right.” Hannah smiled her movie star smile. “It is.”
I put my hand over my mouth to cover a yawn. Not only had I gone to bed late the night before, I had gone to bed upset. What sleep I got wasn’t restful.
“I can help you clean up before I go home.” The offer was halfhearted.
“No, you’re tired. Is what I hear about you and Dean true?”
I smiled and shrugged. “Is that all people are talking about today?”
“The locals anyway. It’s like Benny was never arrested.” Hannah said. “Before you go can I show you something?”
I yawned again. “What’s it got to do with?”
“Remember that wooden angel we found in the writing slope?”
My drowsiness left me, and an uneasy chill took its place. I swallowed hard and nodded.
***
We turned off the lights in the front part of the museum and went to Hannah’s office. I could have been walking to my execution. Since my last encounter with the writing slope, my spirit sensitivity had gotten louder. Things I used to ignore crawled all over me. I worried the repeated exposure to this dark spirit would break the puny shields I’d managed to erect over the years. But I worried even more about sticking my head in the sand. My best interests depended on me finding out what Rae meant about me being in danger.
Hannah removed a shoebox from her desk. Using a pair of iron tongs, she lifted the wooden angel from the box. Clammy sweat dampened my forehead, and the hair raised on the back of my neck. I’d never forget the dark spirit’s havoc or the way that hideous little thing burned Hannah.
“Are you some sort of sadist?” I asked as Hannah leaned over the angel.
“Something you don’t know about me,” she said. “I like puzzles. When I was a teenager, my stepfather bought me a puzzle box for every occasion. I got pretty good at figuring them out.”
Hannah picked up a long, wicked looking ice pick and the biggest pair of tweezers I’d ever seen. With the tweezers, she held the angel’s trumpet and gave it a twist.
“Don’t break it.” The thing had to be worth something. Even if it wasn’t, I hated to see it destroyed.
“I won’t.” Hannah’s response was toneless. She was too invested in the task at hand to pay me much mind. She gave the trumpet another twist. It popped away from the angel’s pursed lips. I bit back a gasp. Hannah poked the ice pick into the angel’s mouth. That one made me yelp. The angel popped open.
“Reginald Mace liked using springs to put tension on stuff like this.” Using the ice pick, she turned the angel where I could see it. When I just sat there, she said, “Come on. Look what’s inside. This is what Rae wanted to find.”
Nestled in the angel’s belly lay a skeleton key with a symbol not unlike the mother, maiden, crone symbol I’d seen in Celtic mythology. Hannah plucked the key from the angel with the tweezers and set it on the desk.
“Do I dare touch it?” She smiled, enjoying this. She extended her index finger and touched the key. She let out a shriek of pain, jerked her finger away, and popped it into her mouth. “You think I’d learn,” she said. “But I wonder if it burns you. You are, after all, a Mace, a descendant of William—for whom the treasure was intended.”
“Forget it,” I said. “I’m not touching that hexed thing.”
“Come on,” she said. “Don’t be chicken.”
“Don’t call me chicken.” Fatigue provided fertile soil for my indignation.
“Buck buck buck.” Hannah flapped her arms.
I narrowed my eyes at her and reached out a tentative finger. I let it hover over the key, unable to take the last step. Finally, Hannah reached across the desk and pushed my finger down on the key. I yelped, and we both jumped. But it didn’t burn me.
“Just as I thought,” she said.
“You could have burned me.” I took out my cigarettes and lit up. The look of horror on Hannah’s face was satisfying. I smoked with relish.
“Rae desperately wanted to find this,” she said. “I wonder what it opens.”
“She didn’t find it soon enough to matter.”
“Do you think Benny killed her?” Hannah stood, took one of her expensive lead crystal glasses out of her antique hutch, and filled it half full of amber colored liquor, a brand I’d never heard of. She held the bottle out to me, but I shook my head.
“I have a hard time imagining Benny killing anybody. He used to take me riding on his family’s tractor when I was a little girl and he was a young man. He was always so nice and gentle.”
Hannah sipped her liquor, watching me remember with a thoughtful look on her face.
“But he did beat me up outside the trailer and sucker punched me
in the gut yesterday in Tyler. There’s no denying that.”
“My cousin told me they recovered a sex tape of him and Rae.” Hannah’s cousin was none other than Sheriff Joey’s son, Scott. A Sheriff’s Deputy, Scott was no doubt being groomed to run when Joey decided to retire. At his retirement, Joey would publicly recommend Scott for his position, and most citizens of Burns County would vote for Scott Holze without question. Dean’s plan to run for Sheriff would throw a monkey wrench into the order of things.
“Your cousin isn’t lying,” I said, wondering if it was legal for me to tell Hannah even this much, but I’d bent the law in worse ways.
“I’m no cop, but something feels off about it all to me, too.” Hannah belted back her drink and poured more. “If he killed her, he did it because she blackmailed him.”
I shrugged. “The day I ran into Benny at Rae’s trailer, he wore latex gloves. He could have used that knife to kill her without leaving his own prints. It’s possible he could have hidden it at Chase’s trailer. I guess.”
“But do you think he did?”
“It doesn’t feel right. Benny is sneaky. If he were going to do away with Rae, I’d think he’d get her out of town to do it. Just have her disappear.”
“If we’re right, and Benny didn’t do it,” Hannah said, “the real killer is still out there. Maybe looking for this key.”
My guts twisted. I had an even scarier idea.
“If Benny is the killer, he could be looking for this key. He made bail today.”
“Benny’s rich. What would he want with a treasure?” Hannah finished her drink and set the glass aside.
“Rich people never mind getting richer,” I said. “Benny included.”
“That still leaves one thing unanswered.” The liquor had affected Hannah, slowing her speech and allowing her East Texas accent to creep into a few words. “Where do you fit into all of it? Rae seemed so sincere about trying to keep you from harm.”
That made no sense to me, either. Learning Rae talked me up to all her acquaintances had me wanting to think better of her. But running a con on Hannah fit right into her personality. Memaw said she got the con bug honest.
