“So … Ma is still doing your errands.”
“She offered. Just like you volunteered to drive me home.”
“Ma always makes time for you.” Zoë had visibly snubbed Martha at the dual funeral.
“Yesterday, Martha dropped by the nursery to pick up some plants. Amber told her what happened." Kelsey looked Zoë in the eye. "She came by the hospital and asked if she could help.” Kelsey paused, alarmed by Zoë’s furious expression. “Look, if you insist on painting, at least wear some of my grunge clothes. Otherwise, forget it. I’ll get someone to redo it later.” And it will return to being a beautiful hunter green.
“I’d never fit into your clothes; you’re too darned short and flat-chested.” Zoë caressed her bulky breasts. Kelsey looked away, grateful that at least Zoë's back was toward the sound of children playing. A gust of hot air grazed her flushed face and shifted some of the flies. When the silence became painful, Zoë sniffed. “I’ll paint the door, then I’ll wash the floor and if I see someone coming, I’ll hide. Okay?”
Kelsey nodded, amazed by the unprecedented meekness.
Zoë lightly touched her hand and gestured toward the annoying message with the brush. “Whoever wrote this is serious. Deadly serious.” Zoë prodded the pool of dried paint with a red enameled fingernail. A welcome mat would cover the mess until she got more gray paint. “Do you think the same person who sabotaged your car did this?"
Kelsey inhaled sharply and instantly felt queasy. "Maybe I hit a rock and that broke my brake line."
"And I’m the Easter bunny." Zoë’s mask of concern dropped and she made a lewd pose. “I'd make a better Playboy bunny, don’t you think?”
“I wouldn’t know.” Kelsey took a step sideways. Zoë grabbed her upper arm.
“You'd better get serious and face facts,” she hissed. “Marv wants to win that stupid senatorial race and he'll have his bootlickers make sure he gets what he wants. Right now, he sees you as an obstacle in his path and I don’t think he’ll hesitate to kill you. I don’t think someone as coddled as you can possibly understand what he’s capable of."
“Women don’t belong in business or politics; they belong in the kitchen and bedroom.” Kelsey mimicked Calhoun’s senatorial tone and arrogant stance.
“Why are you quoting your grandfather?”
“Because I think he had someone leave me this warning to let me know how angry he is about me, a lowly female, entering politics.” She raised her chin. “I’ll show him.”
Zoë's grip on her arm tightened until it crushed. Kelsey tried to pull free, but Zoë was stronger than she looked. “I don’t want to go to your funeral and I don’t think Calhoun did this. He’s too sick."
“Of course he didn’t do it himself. He can spell. He had someone do it.”
Zoë closed her eyes and appeared to fight for control. Kelsey glared at her, then closed her own eyes and started to count to ten. When she got to eight, Zoë said, "More than half the guys I know would sell their own mothers to get what they want and Marv is one of them. Believe me, I know the type.”
Kelsey blinked; confused by Zoë’s continuing flip flop between the serious concern of a real friend and the flat out bullying of an obnoxious bimbo. No matter which one was the real Zoë Lancaster, it didn’t say much for the people Zoë associated with. Kelsey frowned and wondered what it said about her.
Zoë’s dark glare looked cold and lifeless. “Listen to me, I know what I’m talking about. I like men, and I don't just enjoy them, I watch them. Keep out of Marv’s way or you’ll end up as dead as that bird.”
Kelsey jerked her arm free. "You know what this stupid threat tells me?"
"I bet it isn’t something smart.” Zoë’s hands were shaking. For years, Zoë had only shown up when she needed a safe port during some real or imaginary crisis in her life, so Kelsey suspected the funerals were coincidental timing for whatever Zoë's primary motivation for coming actually was. Kelsey wondered how long a sister should force herself to tolerate the actions of an embarrassing sibling. Particularly, when the sibling was illegitimate and no one knew they were related or understood the bond, which had been forged when Martha had brought Zoë home from the hospital. At three, she had thought Martha had brought home the greatest doll in the world. In some ways, she still felt as if Zoë belonged to her. But they were no longer young; Zoë had changed from her best toy into a childhood playmate, then transformed into a self-centered pre-teen, who oozed rage and anger at everyone who cared about her. The grownup Zoë with her in-your-face sexuality, lack of moral values and filthy language was the worst personality change, yet. Kelsey shivered with the thought of how many more appalling makeovers could take place if Zoë lived to a ripe old age.
“Well?” Zoë snarled. “Spit it out. Tell me how this stupid threat backfired."
Kelsey massaged the back of her neck, wishing they could go back twenty years to a simpler, closer time. But time travel only existed in books. "Obviously, someone thinks I have a chance of winning this election."
Zoë blinked. "You just now figured that out? I could have told you that. Your fucking grandfather made the MacLennan name a household word in this state."
"Can you communicate without cussing?”
Ruby lips flattened and black eyes hardened. Even her long, bleached curls seemed to stiffen. Zoë made a palpitating motion with her hand over her heart causing the fake jewels in her rings flashed. She pouted. “Oh, dear.” She fanned herself; a caricature of a Southern Belle about to faint. “I don’t know what made me say that about such a sainted person as Calhoun.”
“Cut it out. The sweet act doesn’t become you." Kelsey took a deep breath then slowly exhaled. In a calmer tone, she added, "I’d like to think I could win this election on grounds other than my last name.”
“Not a chance.” Zoë peeled aluminum foil off the paintbrush, as if she was a vulture tearing flesh from road kill. “You should drop out now, before the piranhas eat you alive." She looked up and smirked. "Of course, if you're lucky, they’ll settle for raping you.”
“I’m thrilled you have so much faith in me.” Kelsey closed her eyes and breathed in the mingled scents of Pine Sol, roses and Raid. “I forgot to thank you.”
“For what?”
“Picking me up from the hospital." She gave her a gracious smile. "Thanks, Zoë.”
Zoë appeared confused. “You’re welcome.” Obviously, she didn’t remember Grandma Rose’s cardinal rule about politeness. Zoë shoved newspaper under the door, then slapped blue over the D in Drop. “You should have phoned the sheriff.” She continued painting. “This is criminal vandalism, you know."
Kelsey bit her lower lip until she felt confident that she could manage an equally calm tone. "I’d never call Jake Botts. I can’t prove it, but I know he's one of Frederickson's lackeys.” Kelsey gave an internal shudder at the thought of giving Frederickson or any of his carefully placed, corrupt pals, an opportunity to invade her home. “He'd probably imply that one of us hung the chicken up for a decoration.” Zoë swiftly turned to stare at her, shock in her expression. Kelsey shrugged with a nonchalance she didn’t feel. “Or worse, tomorrow’s newspaper would have headlines screaming how I practice voodoo and killed chickens for my rituals."
"Voodoo? You?" Zoë snorted, as she turned back to the door and continued slopping paint over the offending message.
Kelsey pushed a wayward copper ringlet out of her eyes. When her fingertips grazed the stitches near her hairline, it felt like the top of her head had exploded. She took a deep breath then slowly exhaled. "Even if I wanted to report the crime to someone, it's too late. We’ve tampered with the evidence.”
Zoë stopped daubing and stared at the door. Paint dripped down the brush handle and oozed onto her hand “Oh, shit. We did, didn’t we?”
“Don’t worry, it won't matter. The police are so incompetent that they couldn’t solve a crime if they caught the felon red handed.” Her lips quirked up, wondering if the perpetrator hand
s were red-smeared.
Paint trickled onto the heel of Zoë's hand, then fell and landed on her thigh. Zoë swirled it into an abstract pattern and gave Kelsey an odd smile. “Don’t you think blue skin looks fantastic on me?”
“Oh for-” Kelsey bit her tongue and turned to leave.
Zoë snickered.
Kelsey abruptly realized the threat had given her an opportunity. She paused, then turned back. “In light of the threats, I think you need to find someplace else to live." She gave Zoë a pointed look. "At least until the election is over.” And by that time, she sibling should have found someone else to freeload off of. Maybe she could even find a decent way to support herself.
“Are you kicking me out?”
“You'll be safer."
"You're serious." Zoë ran her perfectly manicured nails over her abdomen, leaving a trail of blue stripes. "You must realize whoever left that bird is serious. So, you should drop out. Instead, you tell me to leave?”
“Zoë, I’m going to stay in this race. But I don’t want you to be in a position where you might get hurt because of my decision. You need to go. If things get uglier, at least I'll know you're safe.” And embarrassing someone else, who is hopefully far, far away from me.
“As if you give a royal shit.” Zoë jammed the brush into the paint can. “I came here to support you. I even went to the damned funeral. All you've done is ignore me." She looked angry enough to spit. "You’re right. I should leave.”
“It’s for your own safety.” Kelsey bit back adding, 'and next time you want to do something for me, ask if it’s something I want. And don’t stay for six weeks.' Instead, she made a mental note to call a locksmith in the morning and have the dead bolts rekeyed. Perhaps he could even fix the garage’s man door.
“Sheesh.” Zoë’s rage hardened her face. “You never cease to amaze me with your stupid bullheadedness.”
Kelsey held up her hand. “Listen to me. Despite what some reporters wrote, I know Ramsey was sober because I was with him for most of the evening before the accident. Frankly, I don’t care what Jake Botts put in his official report or what he told the paparazzi, because half of what gets written is more for sensationalism and that leaves out a ton of fact. I think someone tried to murder Rams and I’ve thought that since I heard about his accident. I thought so before I started campaigning for him and knew I could be in danger because of that, but it didn’t matter then and it doesn’t matter now.”
“Saint Ramsey. To hear you yap, he never drank. Well, little sister, I’ve got news for you, he drinks. He likes Wild Turkey best and when he indulges, he’ll down a whole fifth straight from the bottle. He gets so plastered he forgets his name and who he’s supposed to be screwing.”
Kelsey gritted her teeth and wished she knew why Zoë always made such crude allusions. To the best of her knowledge, Rams had been true to Abby. “Ramsey is only human, but he does not drink than drive.”
“Dream on.”
Kelsey stared at Zoë’s smug expression and remembered the mailbox her brother had sideswiped on prom night. “Not since high school.” Their grandfather had been furious that a MacLennan, especially a male MacLennan, would do something so stupid in public where voters, who thought Calhoun's family were perfect, could see they were merely human. They would have seen just how human Calhoun was if they had seen his reaction to Ramsey's silly accident. Kelsey, who had been watching from the stairs, had expected her grandfather to have a heart attack right in the middle of Beja Flora’s foyer.
Zoë sneered. “Know everything, don't you?"
“About the night of Abby and Jen’s death, I know as much as I need to know. It was Sunday and we’d all been at Beja Flora for dinner.” Zoë jerked at the mention of Kelsey’s ancestral home; the home they’d shared in their youth, but where Zoë was no longer welcome. “We each had one glass of cabernet sauvignon with dinner. That wasn’t enough to get Rams drunk.” Zoë opened her mouth to argue. Kelsey put up her hand for silence. “And he didn’t leave until two or three hours after dinner. Before you say anything, he didn’t spend the time drinking. He didn’t stop anywhere to pickle himself, either. He hasn’t done anything that stupid since high school. Furthermore, his car crashed within a few minutes of when he left. I’m not sure why Rams lost control of his car, but I know for a fact that it wasn’t because he was plastered.”
‘The car crashed within a few minutes of when he left’. Her car had crashed moments after she'd left home, too.
“Accidents happen,” Zoë said.
‘The car crashed within a few minutes of when he left'. Chills raced up and down her body. Kelsey tried to swallow the lump of terror in her throat and the suspicions it was telling her. “I think Rams’ wreck was planned.” And hers had been, too. They’d both crashed near Dead Man’s Gulch. Both crashed shortly after leaving a place where their cars had been unattended ... Ramsey had said the brakes had been tampered with, but how could anyone have gotten onto Beja Flora’s grounds or into her locked garage? Even more worrisome, how could anyone have gotten past Beja Flora’s guards and security system? Abruptly, she recalled the kids telling her about the alien. A cold chill ran down her spine. She cleared her throat. “It wouldn’t surprise me to learn someone had shot out his tire or done something to his car.”
“You really think someone tried to kill him.” Zoë's expression looked so incredulous that it would have been comical if they were talking about something else.
Kelsey nodded. “What's worse is that our worthless sheriff is letting whoever did it get away with homicide and now I’m the next target." She took a breath, then gestured to the door and added, "They’ve made that fact quite clear." Ramsey could be right about Jake Botts being involved in both accidents, but somehow she couldn’t see anyone as fat and lazy as Botts managing to squeeze under either car to drill brake lines. She glanced at the tied trash bag. She could certainly see him doing something as anal as hanging a dead chicken on a door, though.
“Right, the chicken. So how come the only thing that upset you was the mess you had to clean up?”
Kelsey sighed. “Zoë, are you ready to die for something I believe in?"
Zoë gulped and shook her head. "Quit.”
Kelsey shook her head. "I have to run for myself, for my family, and for the constituents.” She paused. “And for you." She lowered her voice. "Did you ever wonder why Frederickson wants his political position?”
Zoë looked surprised by the question. She opened her mouth, as if to answer, then snapped it shut and shrugged.
"I’ve heard rumors that he deals dope,” Kelsey confided. “I believe Frederickson wants to keep his Senate seat so he has official protection. Think about the political protection his office provides.” And the additional protection Botts could add. “Without the senate seat, Marvin Frederickson would be at the mercy of whoever could arrest him first."
"Who told you that?"
"Soon after Frederickson hired on with Grandfather, there have been rumors."
"We were in junior high, then!” Her brows arched and her gaze narrowed, then understanding dawned. "Oh, the Great Calhoun MacLennan and his pompous dinner conversation.” Zoë chewed her lower lip. “Rumors usually aren't true.”
“Grandfather’s idea of conversation might be boring as dirt, but it’s usually accurate.”
“Is it true?" Zoë swallowed. "About Marv?”
"Grandfather thinks so, but could never find proof. That’s why he didn’t fire him."
“Oh.” Zoë looked as devastated as if she’d just found out her implants were shrinking.
With nothing left to say, and a raging headache to medicate, Kelsey picked up the trash bag and went to the garage. As she dumped the vile refuse into the trashcan, she noticed a wrinkled bit of paper next to the utility cupboard. Cautiously, she bent over and picked up the small rectangle. When she turned it over, a young girl beamed up at her. Kelsey smiled back at her infectious grin, then looked around the empty garage, wondering how
the photo had gotten inside. Faint giggles came from the area outside the man door. Perhaps one of the neighborhood kids had dropped it when they had hidden in the garage during a game of hide and seek. Or perhaps the M & M kids had been right about someone being in the garage. Gooseflesh shivered over her. She shook her head. If someone had been inside, they’d have done more than leave a photo. Kelsey went to find the kids.
Mattie was halfway up to the tree house when she came around the side of the garage. As she eased under the stately magnolia, Mark’s curly head peeked over the side. “Hey’ya Ms. Kelsey. Wanna come up for a peanut butter and raspberry jam sandwich?”
“Sounds good, but not today.”
Mattie wrapped his legs around the tree trunk, halfway to their platform and stared at her. “Are you better enough for a picnic?”
“Not quite yet.”
“You sure?” he asked. She nodded
“Did ‘ya ever see Star Wars?” Mattie asked.
“Course she didn’t,” Mark said. “She don’t have time for stuff like that. She does ‘portant stuff like grow plants.”
Kelsey grinned. “I’m glad that you think my plants are important, but I came out here to ask you if you know this girl.” She held up the photo. The boys scrunched up their faces in concentration, but neither indicated any recognition.
“Is she someone ‘portant?” Mark asked.
“Perhaps.” Kelsey shrugged. “Perhaps not. I’m not feeling too well today, but if I’m feeling better tomorrow, I think I’ll make some chocolate chip cookies. Do you think you two could help me eat them?” A chorus of eager agreement burbled around her. “Good. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”
As she secured the garage and went into the house, she checked the man door, which was still locked. The only other way the photo could have gotten here was Zoë, but it seemed illogical that she would carry around a child’s photo. Kelsey studied the girl’s bright inquiring eyes and laughing expression. Did it really matter how the photo had gotten into her garage? The girl looked a few years older than Jen, but like someone Jen would have liked to look up to. The longer she looked at the photo, the more her headache receded. She’d told Ramsey that he needed to win the election for all the faceless children and make the world better for all kids. This nameless girl was the reason she had decided to run for office. “Whoever you are, once I’m elected, I’m going to make the world a better place for you to live in.” Kelsey carefully smoothed out a wrinkle in the upper corner of the photograph, then carried the new symbol of her campaign into the house.
Deadly Rumors Page 7
