A Dead Pig in the Sunshine

by Penny Burwell Ewing

  “Althea Davis at seven sharp. A perm.”

  After a quick chat with each of my employees, I ducked out of Dixieland and headed down Love Avenue for Gail’s Formal Wear. I parked next to Deena’s green Buick and entered the exclusive boutique to find my sister flittering about like a wounded butterfly. “No, no, not that style, Angie. No lace.” I heard her anxious voice say as the sales clerk spread out a beautiful wedding gown for her approval.

  “Stop harassing the help, Sister Dearest,” I said as I came up behind her. Deena swirled around to grasp me in a bear hug.

  “Oh, Jolene, thank God, you’re here.” Her eyes watered as they bore into mine. “I’m overwhelmed by all the details. Please tell me you’re not leaving again!”

  I did my best to soothe my sister without making promises I couldn’t keep and steered her attention away by oohing and ahhing over the variety of dresses the sales clerk had selected. With tearful emotions under control, I watched Deena model each dress, giving her my honest opinion of each. Finally, after an hour, and gentle coaxing, Deena choose a simple A-line gown of ivory satin with no embellishments. That would come in the form of pressurized carbon. Ryder had gifted Deena with a spectacular diamond necklace with matching earrings. Lucky girl.

  We left the boutique for the café next door. Since the weather permitted outdoor eating, we chose a table on the patio. After ordering, I launched the conversation away from wedding plans. “I guess our parents have decided to buy a timeshare in Florida.”

  Deena’s forehead wrinkled. “I spoke at length with Mama last night. She told me that Daddy is smitten with the golf courses. He’s talking about selling the farm and buying a condo.”

  I laughed at her outrageous expression. “Are you against them moving away? We’ve wanted them to sell the farm for a while now.”

  “Well, it’s not that I’m against them moving, but Ryder sprung some surprising news on me yesterday that has me worried.”

  Deena paused as the waitress arrived with our iced teas. Several seconds passed after she moved out of earshot before she spoke. “He wants to relocate to Atlanta.” Her voice cracked on the last word.

  “Well, what do you want?” I tried to sound casual with my insides quaking at the news. First, Bradford was leaving, and my parents were thinking of leaving Whiskey Creek, and now, Deena. Not a cheerful prospect, and I was not okay with this.

  “I hate the thought of leaving here, but his mother has recently been diagnosed with lung cancer, and his father is having a hard time coping with the situation.” She gave a tiny, melancholy sigh. “He’s an only child and feels compelled to be there.”

  “They could relocate here,” I suggested.

  “Medical care is better there.”

  That much was true. Whiskey Creek had a great hospital and qualified doctors, but not compared to metropolitan Atlanta. The best state-of-the-art medical facilities congregated around the capital. His mother stood a better chance of beating the disease there, and it would be easier for Deena and Ryder to relocate than his parents. There was only one thing to do to help my sister.

  I took a long sip of tea. “You should go. Atlanta is a great city with loads of opportunities. And you’d be closer to Summer. You’ve done nothing but complain since she and Mike relocated to Buckhead after their wedding last month.”

  “Being closer to my daughter is definitely a plus, but what about the salon? How will you manage without me?”

  “It’ll be hard, but Billie Jo and I can manage. You do what’s best for you and Ryder.”

  “Speaking of Billie Jo, I’m worried about her. This stomach flu is lingering too long.”

  “I’m sure everything is fine, Deena. Stop fretting. Call and check on her while I run to the restroom?”

  “Good idea.” Deena withdrew her phone from her purse.

  Five minutes later when I returned to the table, our food had arrived and Deena was finishing her call. By the looks of her expression, I figured that our younger sister hadn’t shaken off the bug. Deena confirmed my suspicions.

  “Billie Jo isn’t any better. She has a doctor’s appointment this afternoon. She promised to call as soon as she has any news.”

  We ate in silence. Like me, Deena was preoccupied with her own thoughts. The waitress cleared our dishes and brought coffee and chocolate cake for dessert. I devoured the luscious treat while Deena picked at hers.

  “So, what’s going on with you, Jolene?” She quirked a curious brow. “You’ve been acting particular, even for you, the last couple of days. You’re never available when I need you, and you’ve rescheduled most of your appointments. I know you and Preston are hot and heavy, but I thought he went to LA for a conference.”

  I opted for the truth as Deena could smell a lie a hundred miles away. A fluke in her personality to her advantage. That’s how she caught her former husband cheating with Scarlett. But that’s a long story and told elsewhere.

  At the end of my tale, Deena sat stone-faced. “I don’t believe it. I swear to God, Jolene, I don’t believe it.”

  “Believe it, sis. It’s all true.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “It’s Bradford’s game. I’m only along for the ride.”

  “Jolene, why can’t you just leave the dead alone?”

  I threw up my hands in exasperation. “I don’t go looking for them, Deena. They find me!”

  Deena drained the last of her coffee. Her chocolate cake remained untouched. “So how soon is Sam leaving Whiskey Creek?”

  “When this mess is cleaned up.”

  “How do you feel about it?”

  “Like a knife plunged straight into my heart,” I answered honestly.

  “Do you love him?”

  “He haunts me just as much as the dead.”

  “Do you love him, Jolene?”

  I let out a long breath. “I don’t know what love is.”

  Deena huffed. “Well, you’d better figure it out and soon, sis, or you’ll regret it for the rest of your life. Love doesn’t come easily.”

  I answered with an indulgent smile. “It did for you.”

  Deena’s bunched shoulders relaxed. “And I want you to have the same, Jolene. Don’t let Sam leave alone. Take a risk.”

  “Whiskey Creek is my home,” I argued. “My family and business are here.”

  “And mine. Yet, you advised me to leave home and family.”

  I could only shake my head futility. After a few seconds of shared silence, we allowed the subject to drop and summoned the waitress for the check. After promising to call with news about Billie Jo, we went our separate ways. Me out to the farm, and Deena to an appointment with the florist.

  Chapter Thirteen

  A Dead Pig in the Sunshine

  Later that evening the phone rang. Thinking it might be Deena with news of Billie Jo’s doctor’s visit, I grabbed up the receiver to hear Bradford’s husky voice. “I’m on my way over. We need to talk.

  I hastily agreed, leaving a barrage of questions unspoken. That would come later, after Bradford unloaded his mind. To keep my hands busy, I put on a pot of coffee, then set the table with cups and saucers, cream and sugar, and a platter of pastries I’d picked up at the bakery. I tend to munch when I’m nervous, bored, or anxious. Bradford’s troubled tone had me climbing aboard the nervous train with an anxious load.

  The sound of his truck pulling into the drive had me at the back-kitchen door. I switched on the outside porch light and swung open the door at his approach, Tango at my feet.

  “I made coffee,” I said as a greeting. Tango yowled when he spotted my guest.

  Bradford slipped past me without acknowledgement to pull his cowboy hat from his head and settled down onto a kitchen chair. Silently, he placed his hat upside down on the table, and waited for me to join him. He bent down to pet Tango who had continued to purr for attention. I poured two cups of steaming coffee before sitting down, remaining quiet, allowing him the time to gather his obviously swirlin
g thoughts.

  “You won’t believe the day I’ve had.” He gave me a sour look when he straightened in his chair. “A day from hell.”

  With my full attention focused on him, I nibbled at a pastry. I knew this man, intimately, and he needed a listening ear, not a hyperactive chatterbox.

  “First thing, the chief read me the riot act. Sheriff Snellgrove made me out to be some kind of pervert. Told the chief that the evidence suggested I was stalking Vanessa.” He sipped his coffee. “Wouldn’t even listen to my explanation.” Heavy sarcasm laced his words. “Threatened to call Mayor Boswell out in Wyoming and effectively kill my career.

  “Then he ordered me to stay out of Snellgrove’s investigation.” He huffed. “Like that’s possible with Snow White playing havoc with my life. And now the other woman is missing. Possibly dead. Damn, I wish I’d never met Vanessa van Allen. A complicated piece of humanity. She’s turned my life upside down.” His aura flashed an ugly green, then faded into nothingness.

  I set my cup down ready to ask my first question. “What’s our next move?”

  He did the same with his cup. “Question Snow White. I need to know about the man she observed arguing with Vanessa. Any chance of getting Scarlett to make an appearance?”

  “Depends on her mood.” I skidded my chair back and climbed to my feet. “But first I’d like to fish around in your aura. See if I can locate Snow White. That is if you don’t mind. Maybe we can do this without Scarlett.”

  Bradford heaved a heavy sigh. “Okay, but keep it simple. No repeats of intergalactic explosions. I don’t believe I could stand it.”

  I laughed out loud as the picture of him standing in Deena’s office covered in white, sticky goo resurfaced. “Keep your fingers crossed.”

  Bradford sat straighter in his chair as I approached him. With delicate fingers I probed his aura, all the time gauging the ever-changing colors for any sign of danger. After several minutes of examination. I pulled my fingers free and stepped back.

  “Tell her to come out of hiding, Bradford,” I suggested. “Tell her she’s safe.”

  “Safe? Safe from what? She’s dead.”

  “Just do it.”

  He did, and she popped out like a toaster pastry surprising us both. Bradford jumped up from his chair, knocking it over in the process, and tripping me as I tried to step away. Sitting on my kitchen floor with my cat yowling with excitement, Bradford gawking down at me, and Snow White perched over his shoulder, had me laughing. For the first time since this craziness had started, all my concerns and expectations flew out the window. The Universe with all of its wonderful surprises continued to amaze and inspire me.

  “I’m glad you think this is funny.” Bradford reached down for my hand.

  “Well, it is, if you think about it,” I replied as he hauled me to my feet. Once on solid ground I scanned the kitchen for Snow White and found her seated at the kitchen table as if it were the most natural thing for a ghost in her position to do. She offered us a grim smile.

  “I suppose you would like an explanation,” she said. “I mean about the man.”

  Bradford and I joined her at the table. “That would help to clear up this mess,” I told her in a gentle, caring voice.

  Her energy field blinked several times. “I see a light. I don’t want to go.”

  “The man?” Bradford’s tone echoed impatience. “What about Vanessa and the man in the cemetery?”

  She began to fade. “Red hair. Big gun.”

  “Sheriff Snellgrove?” We yelled in union as she became almost transparent.

  She nodded back at us without speaking, then disappeared back into Bradford’s aura.

  “I don’t believe it.” Bradford pushed his hand through his wavy hair. “She must be mistaken. What connection could Vanessa possibly have with the sheriff?”

  “Good question,” I responded, my attention focused on the barely perceptible spot in Bradford’s aura. “I’m not sure, but I believe Snow White will be moving on shortly.”

  A streak of orange fur burst out from beneath the table with an angry yowl and streaked for the den. Goose bumps peppered my body as Tango’s unexpected departure startled me.

  “You perceive correctly.”

  Scarlett’s otherworldly voice sounded from the closed pantry. A second later, she walked through the door into the kitchen swinging a pair of shiny gold handcuffs in one hand. The spot in Bradford’s aura flashed a muted red before dying down again to a mere dark, blue spot.

  “I’m here to fetch her.” Scarlett floated over to Bradford’s side, handcuffs clanging. “Her time on Earth is over. Her case is solved, and the Powers That Be are cracking down on wayward DEARS.”

  “Solved? How so?” Bradford’s bloodshot eyes spoke of extreme tiredness.

  Scarlett retrieved her prisoner from his aura. “This is Vanessa van Allen.” She snapped the golden handcuffs on a silent Snow White. “She and I will be on our way. Until the next time, Jolene.”

  “Wait!” I exclaimed before the dueling divas could vanish back into the netherworld.

  Scarlett shot me daggers. “What is it, Claiborne? I have orders to complete.”

  “The body hasn’t been found—”

  “Nor the missing woman,” Bradford added. “How can you say she’s Vanessa van Allen without proof?”

  “I don’t need proof,” Scarlett said. “Only orders to drop this spirit off in Purgatory. I can’t afford to buck the authorities on this one.” She pointed a manicured finger at Bradford. “Your ass isn’t the only one on the line, Buckaroo. Any more screw-ups and I’m transferred south, and barbeques aren’t my thing.”

  My chair scrapped across the hardwood floor as I pushed to my feet. “Can you make a detour before heading home?” I had a destination in mind that might pan out a lead. Speculation, of course, but a lead.

  “Mount Zion Missionary Baptist Church,” Bradford declared. “Well, Scarlett, ready to rattle some chains?”

  Scarlett narrowed her eyes. “Is that a challenge or another one of Jolene’s suspicious plottings?”

  Bradford nodded. “This might be a good time to hone your investigating skills. What I’ve seen doesn’t impress me.”

  Guessing what might ensue after Bradford’s provocative statement, I traced Tango’s path across the kitchen to the den entryway, wanting no part of the coming fireworks. Scarlett’s trigger-happy temperament had followed her into the afterlife.

  “We’ll see about that, cowboy.” Her mouth curved into a triumphant grin. “Saddle up that pony in the driveway and follow me.”

  ****

  Mount Zion Missionary Baptist Church had seen better days. White paint peeled from its old wooden clapboard siding, the failing roof showed signs of imminent collapse, and the front steps sagged in the middle—not to mention the encroaching forest with evil designs to smother the grand old lady with its creeping vines and evergreen trees.

  I shivered as I stood in the small clearing, my ears tuned in to the subtle sounds of night-prowling beasts of the pine forest. In the muted light of a full moon, I pulled the Pink Panther, my .38 special, from its holster and tucked it in the front of my jeans for a quick draw if needed and stepped closer to Bradford.

  “There’s nothing to be afraid of out here, Jolene,” Bradford said as I inched closer. “Maybe coyotes or wolves.”

  “Great.” I strained to pierce the murky darkness surrounding me. “With my luck, we’ll run across Bigfoot.”

  “The cemetery must be around back.” Bradford’s flashlight beam made a wide arc, its silvery light revealing a small pathway around the church.

  “You’re correct,” Scarlett piped up. “Just follow me, and be careful of snakes.”

  Bradford took the lead, and I followed close behind, my gaze glued to the ground. If it moved, I screamed. Which irritated Bradford. Dumbass. What’d he think he’d get with a city gal out in the woods after dark? A pioneer woman, I’m not. Finally, after the tenth time of ordering me to quiet down,
I suggested, in a strong voice, he shut up or give me a piggyback ride.

  He shut up.

  The bone yard was in worse shape than the church. Here, the forest was close to completing its takeover mission. Most headstones were toppled over, and the ones standing upright were covered in knee-high grass and vines. Massive ancient oaks towered above, their heavy branches threatening to scoop up an errant intruder.

  I plowed to a stop. “I think I’ll wait for you here.” We were standing on the pathway just behind the church where the light of the full moon shone brightest. “You go on ahead and see what you can find. I’ll search the immediate area.”

  We agreed upon a signal, and Bradford disappeared among the headstones, leaving me alone with my psychic radar stuck on high. For several minutes I stood frozen, my ears like parabolic mics, picking up every hoot owl, snapping twig, and rustling undergrowth. The air about me was turbulent with noise. To calm myself, I cupped the Panther in one hand, the flashlight in the other, and attentively stepped forward. When nothing earth shattering happened, my confidence grew, and I ventured into the shadows until I’d explored the back of the church, finding nothing.

  Ten minutes later I was ready to call it a dead end and head for home when an ear-splitting scream rent the night air. I dropped my gun and flashlight and scampered for the moonlit clearing, avoiding the eerie graveyard. The dead come to me, not the other way around. Not one toe was I placing in the dead’s domain. Cross my heart and hope to die.

  Bradford found me cowering in the moonlight.

  I latched onto him like a hungry gatorbug. “What the hell was that?” I continued to scan the landscape for any moving shadows.

  “We found her, Jolene.” His voice shook. “God, it’s not pretty. The wildlife also found her.”

  “She looks like a dead pig in the sunshine with that half-baked smile.”

  “Christ, Scarlett, what a horrible thing to say,” I accused. “And who is she? Snow White or Vanessa?”

  Scarlett jerked the golden handcuffs. “My prisoner here.” Snow White reacted by flashing an unearthly green at the words.

  “Who screamed?” I could only guess. Bradford retrieved my gun and flashlight and handed them over to me.