Rocks & Gravel (Peri Jean Mace Ghost Thrillers Book 3)

by Catie Rhodes

  “Who cares if the necklace belonged to one of the Salem witches? The design of the chain and setting indicate they’re at least two-hundred-fifty years old.” Julie stared down her thin nose at Myrtle. “It’s a wonderful antique piece of jewelry with a great family history. Any real antiques person should be able to appreciate it.”

  I shot Julie a grateful smile. She nodded in acknowledgment. Her on-again-off-again romance with Eddie probably fueled her desire to defend my honor, but every little bit helped.

  Myrtle’s mouth opened and closed several times, then her face lit with glee. “But Peri Jean Mace is a—”

  My cellphone picked right then to start ringing. I dug it out of my jeans pocket and saw Eddie’s face on the screen. Had it been anybody else, I’d have ignored it, but I needed to talk to Eddie no matter what. I pressed the answer button, and Dean’s mouth dropped open in shock. Everything was going wrong for him, and I was making it worse.

  “Eddie?”

  “Peri Jean, baby, you gotta help me. It’s here, and I can’t stop it.” He took a rattling breath. “My chest. I think I’m having a heart attack.”

  The stress of the day pressed down on me, suffocating me. I turned to Dean, took in his angry face, and croaked one word, “Eddie.”

  He shook his head. He probably meant he didn’t understand what I wanted, but I took it to mean “not right now.”

  “Eddie’s having a heart attack,” I screamed. “You have to go help him.”

  Everybody spun into action. Dean shouted for someone to call an ambulance to meet us out there and jumped off the stage and ran for the door. Somehow I kept my phone in my hand throughout all my acrobatics.

  “Eddie, we’re coming. Hold on, okay?”

  Gasps and coughs came over the phone’s speaker and served as Eddie’s answer. I reached Dean’s car and slammed my hand against the passenger window for him to unlock it and let me in. He glared at me but did as I wanted. I slid into the car next to him.

  “Eddie? Eddie?”

  “Oh, honey, I think I’m gonna die.” He coughed again and moaned in pain.

  “Eddie?” I screamed into the phone.

  He didn’t answer. I heard a ground-shaking thump, and the phone went dead.

  6

  Eddie’s mobile home was about two miles out of town. The speedometer on Dean’s ‘80s era Trans Am hovered between seventy and eighty miles per hour.

  “Go faster,” I said. “We’re not going to get there in time to help Eddie.”

  Dean, both hands fisted on the wheel, gave no indication he heard me. I nudged him with the heel of my hand.

  “Stop it,” he said. “I can’t concentrate, and we’re going too fast on this curvy road.”

  “Eddie needs me,” I yelled. “I don’t care about the damn road.”

  Dean didn’t bother to respond.

  “Where’s the ambulance?” I twisted in my seat to peer out into the impenetrable darkness and saw nothing but shadows and gloom. The county didn’t mount streetlights outside the city limits.

  Dean shook his head.

  “They’re so unprofessional. It’s a wonder anybody in this town ever makes it to the hospital alive.” Urgency choked down any and all rational thoughts. The reflectors marking Eddie’s driveway flashed in Dean’s headlights.

  “Here, here,” I yelled.

  He slammed on the brakes, throwing me forward in my seat, the seatbelt digging painfully into my collarbone. Dean sped down the potholed driveway like a madman unleashed and skidded to a stop ten feet from the mobile home.

  All the lights blazed. Usually, Eddie only kept a reading lamp burning in the living room, where he either watched TV, researched, or read. We clambered out of Dean’s Trans Am, and bounded up the rickety wooden steps. Dean pounded on Eddie’s door. A muffled moan came through the thin aluminum. He tried the knob and found it locked.

  “Your keys,” he yelled. “Use them. It’ll be easier than busting it in.” I fumbled my keys out of my pocket. Dean snatched them out of my hand, unlocked the door, and barreled into the house.

  Eddie lay curled on his side, writhing in pain. My head swam. Floating on panic and adrenaline, I had to hold onto the wall and the backs of furniture to stagger toward him. Dean crashed to his knees and leaned his head close to Eddie’s. I crowded in, ignoring Dean’s sharp elbow in my way.

  “Mahoney.” Eddie grabbed at my arm, his usual iron grip weak and clammy. “Ask Julie.” His gaze, cloudy with pain and fear, flickered to mine. “Ask her about Mahoney.”

  “Mahoney? Who is Mahoney?” I yelled the words because I couldn’t hear anything over the freight train roaring between my ears.

  Eddie swallowed and closed his eyes.

  “Shit. He quit breathing.” Dean pushed Eddie onto his back and began chest compressions. “Come on, come on.” Dean blew into Eddie’s mouth.

  I knelt frozen on the floor, tears burning my eyes and leaving hot streaks down my cheeks, mind unable to process the scene before me. I was losing Memaw. I couldn’t lose Eddie, too.

  Dean continued working on Eddie until we heard the sirens. I leapt to my feet and ran to the door, throwing it open.

  “He’s not breathing.” I jumped up and down on the wooden stoop, making it groan and shake. “Get your sorry asses in here.”

  They pushed past me and surrounded Eddie. One of them, a guy who was in junior high when I was a senior, shook his head at Dean.

  “Noooo,” I shouted before giving in to huge, gulping sobs. I should have called Wade Hill to save Eddie the way he helped me. But it was too late. I wailed louder.

  The paramedics barely gave me a glance. They made notes on charts. One of them took out his cellphone and made a call. Dean put his arm around me and pulled me out of the house. I tried to wiggle away from him, but he held me fast.

  Throbbing, unbearable pain blossomed in my chest, aching like a real wound. Eddie wasn’t dead. He couldn’t be. I never saw his spirit leave his body, and I would have. I’d known Eddie all my life.

  The pain in my chest grew too big to hold inside. I let it out in the form of screams and yowls, clawing at Dean when he tried to hold me. I’d never considered losing Eddie. He was my rock, my mentor, the only daddy I really remembered having. He couldn’t be dead.

  Dean closed his arms around me so I couldn’t move and rocked me. I drew back to look at him and was surprised to see his cheeks wet with tears, too. I clutched at him, and we mourned together. Ugly, shaking from the confusion and excitement, nudged my hand. I knelt and wept into his stinky fur.

  I raised my head and spoke to Dean. “Julie. I’ve got to call her. She can’t hear this from one of the gossip mongers.”

  “Let me do it.” Dean took out his cellphone and walked away before I could argue.

  Other people began arriving. Dr. Longstreet, Hannah and Rainey, a Burns County Sheriff’s cruiser containing Deputy Brittany Watson and a middle-aged deputy named Fitzgerald I’d met in passing.

  I found a leash for Ugly. The dog, Hannah, and I stood off to the side, staring at the activity. Rainey sat in her car staring out in to the darkness both hands on the wheel. She got out of her car and picked her way toward us, the former Miss Texas and most graceful, poised woman I knew wobbling on her high heels.

  “I’ll take the dog.” She took the leash from my hand without waiting for my response.

  Hannah turned. “I want Ugly. Eddie would have wanted me to have him. I played with him every time I came out here to talk history with him.”

  “Ugly’s mine.” Dean jogged over. He actually had the brass balls to reach for the leash. One scowl from Rainey, and he withdrew his hand.

  Nobody asked me if I wanted the dog. Truth was, he’d create too much stress for Memaw, but I resented not being asked. I cleared my throat. “Why can’t I have him? Eddie practically raised me.”

  Hannah, Dean, and Rainey glanced at me and went back to glaring at each other.

  “I’m taking the dog,” Rainey said thro
ugh clenched teeth. “I need him. He reminds me how awful people are and how good they are at the same time. I have to remember that to keep my sanity.”

  I knew winning words when I heard them and knelt in front of Ugly, kissing his face and patting his scarred hide. He licked my nose.

  “Love you,” I whispered. “Enjoy your new life.”

  “So the story is Eddie had a heart attack?” Hannah’s voice trembled.

  “I’m not so sure some outside force didn’t cause Eddie’s heart attack.” I swallowed back another flood of weeping. “Eddie said ‘It’s here,’ when he called me. I can’t help but think he meant the ghost we saw on the museum surveillance video.”

  Rainey nodded her understanding, and Hannah squeezed my hand. Dean took a step away from us.

  “There was no ghost on the video.” He crossed his arms over his chest, bunching his muscles. “Someone tampered with it. I’ve called an expert in Houston to examine the footage. We’ll figure out who stole from the museum.”

  Hannah, Rainey, and I stared at each other, ignoring him. We said nothing. We didn’t need to. Each of us knew the plan. Find out who was behind this thieving, murdering ghost, and put the beat-down on them. Eddie’s death ached all the way into the deepest part of my soul. I’d do everything in my power, risk everything, to avenge his death. He deserved no less.

  Dean snorted like an angry animal and marched away, his posture stiff.

  “Peri Jean, would you go in Eddie’s house and get a towel or something for my car seat?” Rainey asked.

  I cast a glance at the other woman’s sporty Mercedes. The dog would trash it and every beautiful thing she had. Maybe she needed the chaos in her life. I nodded and walked toward the trailer.

  Hannah caught up to me and stopped me. “Where’s Eddie’s ghost? You need to communicate with him—whatever you do—and find out what happened.”

  Her words jolted into my mind. This was the first time where the ghost of a recently deceased person I knew didn’t come see me right away. I lit a cigarette and hoofed it toward the trailer.

  Dr. Nathan Longstreet stood near the rickety wooden deck off Eddie’s front door talking to Deputy Brittany Watson about what happened. The sole female law enforcement officer working for the Burns County Sheriff’s Office, she was eager to learn the job, and Dean wanted to help her. Sometimes too much, I thought. They stopped talking as we approached.

  “I need to go inside and get Rainey a towel for her car. She’s taking the dog.”

  “Deputy Watson can go get it,” Dean said. “You don’t need to.”

  “I want to,” I said. “Plus, I know where everything is.”

  “Darlin’ you might ought to go on home, maybe check on your memaw. Take Hannah and Rainey with you.” Dean tried to pull me against him, but I resisted.

  “Dean’s right,” Dr. Longstreet said. “There’s no more you can do for Eddie. I’m sure he was grateful to have you with him in his last moments. He loved you like you were his.” Tears glossed the old doctor’s eyes. “I warned Eddie at his last three checkups to quit drinking and smoking so much, to eat healthier foods, to exercise. He ignored me. His heart kept getting weaker and weaker. I knew this was going to happen…” He pulled me into his arms, and I breathed in the familiar odors of rubbing alcohol and spearmint. Dr. Longstreet let go of a sob. He’d loved Eddie, too. I returned his hug.

  “Tell Brittany where the towels are, honey. Then I want you to be on your way.” Dean put his arm around my waist as soon as Dr. Longstreet released me. “I’ll wait here until Hooty brings the hearse, and Deputy Watson will help me close up. No reason for you to have to…” His mouth worked. “See Hooty take Eddie away.” The pain in his eyes suggested he didn’t want to see it either. It made me hate what I had to say next, but I pushed myself to do what I needed to.

  “I need to be the one who goes inside.”

  “Oh, honey, you don’t either.” Deputy Brittany Watson stepped in front of the door. “Eddie wouldn’t want you to.”

  “I need to see…” I wasn’t quite sure how to tell someone I was going looking for a ghost.

  “There’s nothing in there you need to see.” Brittany moved toward me, so confident and sure of herself I barely recognized the little girl I used to babysit.

  “I need to see his ghost.” I jerked away from her and grabbed the doorknob, my words echoing in the quiet country night. The frogs and crickets stopped their opera to watch the show.

  Brittany, who knew the rumors about me even if she’d never seen me do anything weird, widened her eyes and took a step away from me. Dean squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed one hand over his stomach. Dr. Longstreet nodded tiredly, possibly expecting no less, and stepped away from the door. He’d seen a lot over his years doctoring Burns County. He knew good and well what I could do. If he understood why I wanted to go in, maybe he could get Dean off my case. Before I could think of a discrete way to tip Dr. Longstreet to what I wanted, Dean started motormouthing again.

  “Baby, listen to me,” Dean said. “I don’t want you going in there. It’s upsetting to see a dead person when they haven’t been prepared for viewing. It’s not like going to a funeral.”

  He glanced at Dr. Longstreet for confirmation. The doctor shrugged and leaned against the deck’s railing, crossing his arms over his chest. He knew there was no use arguing with me.

  I ignored Dean and opened the trailer’s front door. He grabbed my arm and tugged me away from it.

  “You can’t go in there.” He said the words in a gruff, near shout. His cop voice. It brooked no argument. If I hadn’t seen him naked, it might have scared me into obeying, but it just made me mad.

  “Actually, she can go in there.” Rainey’s voice came from behind me. “Eddie left his estate to her. I have the will at my office. It’s not probated yet, but all this belongs to Peri Jean.”

  Dean’s mouth worked, and I took the opportunity to slip inside the trailer.

  I stopped right inside the door and took a good look at the room. Eddie lay where he’d died, more motionless and silent than I imagined possible. Living people make noise just by being alive. They add a presence to the room. Once the heart stops beating and the brain stops creating, it’s over. What’s left behind is like a creepy kind of furniture. I knew the part of Eddie I wanted to talk to—his spirit—still had to be here. He had something to tell me on the phone, and I needed to hear what it was to help me find whoever did this to him.

  “Eddie?” I said to the empty room. My voice sounded flat and muted. “Eddie? Come on. I want to talk to you.” Nothing happened. The black opal hanging around my neck didn’t even give me a little shock of magic. I walked through the living room and kitchen to the master bedroom. Maybe Eddie’d gotten confused in death and went in there.

  I swung the door open. The odor of stale cigarettes, beer, and beer farts assailed me. I took a step backward, viewing the unmade bed and clothes strewn on the floor from the doorway. A plate of greasy chicken bones, the remainder of a fried chicken dinner, sat on the dresser. Steeling my gag reflex, I crept through the room and took baby steps to the bathroom. If the bedroom was this bad, I wasn’t sure I wanted to see what waited for me in there.

  I stepped into the room and put the back of my hand over my mouth. How did Eddie stand using this room? The sink, once white, was caked with dark colored splotches and sprinkled with hair. The counter had a layer of dust so thick I could have written in it if I’d been willing to touch it. The tub and the toilet looked like they could have been used in biological warfare. Empty.

  I’d try his office. He spent a great deal of time in there researching local history and the Mace Treasure. He’d been doing treasure research on my behalf when he realized he needed help. Maybe his ghost went back to finish his task.

  I walked back through the kitchen frustrated enough to holler. The irony infuriated me. All the damn times I’d seen ghosts and wished I didn’t, but the one time I really wanted to see a ghost, I couldn’t do
it. I bit my lip, trying not to see Eddie sprawled out on the living room floor. I did okay at keeping my eyes averted until I got right alongside his sad remains.

  Eddie always seemed huge to me, strong and sure, full of wisdom and good fart jokes. Death took all that way from him. Lying on the living room floor, robbed of his dignity, he seemed small and old. Just a middle-aged guy on his way down the hill of life. I noticed for the first time how age and bad health had changed him from the man I had once seen lift and throw a refrigerator several feet while searching for a lost child in the aftermath of a tornado.

  Eddie’s big heart had kept him big in my eyes. It made me not notice the way his body shrank and became less vibrant. No matter what happened, Eddie waded in without a thought for his own safety to help those in need. I sank to my knees next to the man who’d treated me like his own when he didn’t have to, put my face in my hands, and let the ache well up in me.

  Tears seeped out of my eyes and burned the back of my throat. Eddie deserved better than a death like this. Maybe I could have prevented it had I not been so stubborn about helping. This morning, instead of turning Hannah over to Dean, I could have gone to see Hooty and started planning. Instead, I’d dragged ass. It cost Eddie his life.

  Get up, you sorry piece of shit. I pushed myself to my feet and marched through the living room and down the hall to the other two bedrooms, sobs still hitching out of me. I pushed open the door to the one I knew Eddie used as his office and groaned. I’d never find anything in this jumble. Books on Burns County history lay open all over the desk. The small, flat-screen TV was paused on a frame I recognized from the TV documentary on the Mace Treasure. Maps hung on the walls, red pushpins marking spots I knew nothing about. Eddie’d been researching, all right, but this mess gave no indication to any conclusions he’d reached.

  I thought back to Eddie’s words when he called me in distress. It’s here, and I can’t stop it. Couldn’t stop what? Whatever it was, Eddie tried. The effort he made cost him his life.