“So you handed over your work?”
“Oh yes. I was young and naive.”
Tango appeared in the doorway, golden eyes gleaming, and the tip of his tail twitching with interest. “Don’t stop, Careen. I’m listening.” I got up to fill his bowl with kitty crunch and returned to the table.
“The next morning, Vanessa shows up at my room with the manuscript and her critique, promising to help me improve as a writer.”
“So she came through with her promise?”
“Yes, she seduced me with dreams of stardom.” Careen’s ghostly sigh gave me goose bumps. “It came with a price.”
“Your life?”
“Yes, my life. Vanessa convinced me to keep our association secret. Slowly, over the months she revealed her plans. Evil plans. I see that now.” She gave me a shamefaced look.
“Go on,” I encouraged. “I’m not here to judge you, only listen.”
“Vanessa wanted her name on my work. She pointed out that I was an unknown. Agents and publishers weren’t interested in unknowns. I bought the lie because I’d received so many rejections I feared I’d never break through that wall. All I wanted was for people to read and love my stories. Vanessa promised to make it happen. We would share the financial rewards, and I could help out my struggling family. When I agreed, she laid out the rest of her plan.”
“There’s more?”
“Please try to understand why I fell for her.” Her face mirrored her despair. “Since we shared a natural resemblance, Vanessa offered to pay me a lot of money to impersonate her at functions she didn’t wish to attend. We spent months refining my appearance and speech to mimic her. When we’d perfected my transformation, I made my debut. At first, it was fun, and I loved the attention. The Dark Enchantment trilogy was on the NY bestsellers list for months, and money poured in. But then she began demanding more of my time. After a while, I found myself living Vanessa’s life while she disappeared to only God knows where. Slowly, I became Vanessa van Allen.”
“What about your family during this time? How did you explain this to them?”
“They never knew. The times Vanessa returned to her rightful place, I would return to Hawkinsville and take up my previous life. When Vanessa wanted to switch, my family believed I was off to a temporary job out of town and I resumed her identity.”
“So you fully integrated into Vanessa’s identity?”
“Yes, little Careen Halsey from Hawkinsville, Georgia ceased to exist. Even her mother couldn’t tell the difference. To all intents and purposes, I was the famed Vanessa van Allen.”
“And then things changed?”
Tango’s meows intermingled with the ticking of the grandfather clock in the den. My stomach rumbled. I ignored it, waiting for her response.
“One day I received a phone call from the south of France. Vanessa had the brilliant idea of writing a book about her life, exposing the double-handed publishing underworld. I refused to cooperate. Why tick off our money source? Oh, she didn’t want to hear that. She wanted another sensational bestseller, and threatened to expose our arrangement. She was coming home to reclaim her life, and I would return to being little Careen Halsey from Hawkinsville, Georgia.”
“And that’s bad? You’d be free to write under your own name.” I failed to understand her logic. “You’re an excellent writer according to my sister, Billie Jo.”
“Ah, but you’re wrong. We deceived the world with our arrangement. No decent agent would touch me. Oh, I could self-publish and make a mint, but my reputation would’ve been shot, my family shamed. I couldn’t allow that. You know, Southern pride and all that nonsense.”
I understood completely. “You mentioned siblings.”
“A brother, Michael, and a sister, Alice.”
“Michael Halsey…Michael Halsey.” I paced around the kitchen trying to recall when and where I’d heard that name before. “Describe him.”
“Tall, dark brown hair and mustache, slender build. Attractive.”
“That’s it,” I exclaimed, stopping mid-step. “Vanessa’s escort at the cocktail party the other night. At the writers’ retreat. Remember?”
Careen began to fade. “Gotta run. That bitch is after me again!”
“Wait!” I cried. “She can help us.”
“Ha. She’ll return me to that hell hole. No, I’m not going back until I settle the score.”
“But where will you go?”
“Sam’s.”
Back to Bradford’s aura. No way. I hesitated, then plunged ahead. “Go to Dixieland Salon. Hide there. In the pink room. I’ll deal with Scarlett and meet you there.”
“Dixieland Salon?”
“Yes, the one on Love Avenue with a pink awning over the front door. You can’t miss it.”
Luckily for Careen, she skipped out in the nick of time for Scarlett arrived on my next breath. Minus the fireworks.
“Okay, Claiborne, I know she’s here.” Her eyes glowed green fire. “Or been here. Start the dialogue and be quick about it.”
“I’m sure I don’t know to whom you refer.” I stepped over to the sink and pulled down my bottle of Zanny from the windowsill. Geez, I’d better get another refill.
“I’m in no mood for bullshit.”
I downed a pill. “Such language. Really, Scarlett, Heaven doesn’t seem to be having a positive effect on you.” Hopefully, I could stall her and give Careen a head start.
The barometric pressure in the kitchen fell. A cold chill swept across the space, causing my teeth to chatter, and Tango to make a mad dash for the den. I plopped back down in a chair and gave her a mean look. “Knock it off, Scarlett, you’re scaring the cat.”
“Your pussy is not my concern.”
My eyebrows rose in mock distress. “There’s Zanny on the windowsill if you need it.”
She chuckled with a dry and cynical sound. “Your feeble attempts at stalling are a dead giveaway, Jolene. Give her up.”
I climbed to my feet with my dirty coffee mug and opened the dishwasher. “Check out the house if you must. I have an early appointment.” With that, I turned my back on her and went to dress for work. The resulting lightning flash indicated I’d poked a mad skunk with a sharp stick.
****
Scarlett beat me there. When I pulled my Mustang around to the rear, the back door was blown off its hinges and lying on a grassy patch off the walkway. How she did it, I’m not certain, and I really didn’t care. First order of business was to take away another one of her nine lives. My blood pressure skyrocketed as I burst from my car and scampered inside to halt any further destruction.
The facial door suffered the same fate. I struggled to breathe. Crap. How am I going to explain this to Deena? Or Roddy? Because Billie Jo’s husband would have to repair the damage ASAP.
“Get your filthy hands off me.” Careen’s enraged voice echoed from within the facial room. “Jolene granted me sanctuary.”
“You’re going back to Purgatory.” Scarlett’s voice rang with authority. “Now stand still so I can cuff you.”
I took a deep breath and burst into the room. “Unhand her, Scarlett and get out of my salon. In Jesus’s name.”
An unearthly quiet settled over the room. Scarlett dropped her hold on Careen, and spun around to face me. Now free, Careen crept to the far corner of the room, her brown eyes huge in the filtered light from the doorway.
“You would use that name on me?” Scarlett’s beautiful features mirrored her pain. “How the mighty have fallen.”
“You provoked me,” I reasoned. “And look what you did to my salon. How am I going to explain it?”
“That’s not my problem. Why don’t you tell Deena the truth and let her come up with a logical explanation? She’s good at storytelling.”
I considered it. “Won’t work. Just so you know, Deena’s gonna have my ass, and you’re gonna be barred from the salon.”
“Take back what you said. Dixieland Salon is my second home.”
Tr
ue. After her demise in this room, the clients and staff developed an aversion to it. Claimed it was haunted, and wouldn’t step a foot inside. To counter the stigma, and to stop rumors of a haunting, I turned it into a lovely sitting room to Scarlett’s specifications. I even used it on occasion. The soft pink walls, combined with a flower print chintz loveseat with lovely matching pillows, and a multicolored area rug offered respite during a busy day.
“I have to take her back, Jolene.”
I lifted my gaze to hers. “Bradford and I are the prime suspects in her death. She has info that can clear us, and I’m going to do everything in my power to keep her here. Surely, there’s something you can do to help us.”
After a moment’s pause, she said, “You have three days. After that, she agrees to return peacefully with me. And, she’s restricted to this space.”
“Here in the salon?” Not good. The salon already had a reputation of being haunted. Thanks to Scarlett.
“In this room, only,” Scarlett clarified. “Oh, and Jolene, the Powers that Be don’t like interference from mortals. You’re taking a big chance here. Tread carefully.”
“Your terms are agreeable.”
“I’ll be back in three days to retrieve my prisoner.” With that Scarlett vanished from the facial room, leaving a red trail of cosmic dust.
Three days. Not a long time to solve a murder.
Chapter Sixteen
The Reappearance of Madame Mia
“Jolene, this has to stop.”
Deena lifted her gaze from the busted rear door to me. Heat crept up my neck and face at her horrified expression.
“I know.” I wrung my hands to keep them busy. “How are you going to explain this to the insurance company?”
“Well, I can’t tell them that your invisible gal pal from hell had a hissy fit, now can I?” Deena’s voice grated out her frustration. “I swear to God, Jolene, you need to get professional help. This ghost thingy is out of hand. And I’m not happy about the one still in the facial room.”
“I’m sorry, sis, but what else could I do? Bradford and I are in trouble. Careen is our only link to the crime. I had to give her sanctuary.”
She held up a hand to silence me. “Don’t explain. Just get her out of there.”
“Three days, Deena. I promise.”
“Whatever.” She withdrew her phone from her handbag. “I’ll take care of the damage, but you’re going to tell Mama.”
I gnawed my bottom lip. “Uh, let’s leave Mama out of this. She’ll overreact and blame me.”
“Too late. She’s meeting me here in twenty minutes to discuss the reception. Oh, and FYI, Daddy’s dropping her off. I’m sure he’ll have something to add to her lecture. And it is your fault.”
I grabbed my head and groaned. “I’m getting a headache.”
“Suck it up,” Deena advised. “We’ll be explaining this one all day.” She tapped the crystal of her wristwatch. “The staff and clients will be arriving any minute. I’d better get Roddy over here.” She punched several buttons on her phone and headed inside.
I followed behind catching snatches of her conversation with our contractor brother-in-law as she tried to explain the situation. At the facial room, I paused to check on my ghostly guest. I had plenty of questions to ask Careen, but at the proper time. At the moment I had pressing issues to address as the jiggling front doorbell signaled the morning rush had begun.
Grabbing my apron from the dispensary, I turned the corner to see a beautiful, dark-haired woman in a stunning white silk sheath standing at the reception desk. Great day in the morning, help had arrived.
“Madame Mia, how nice to see you again.” I rushed over to her and held out my hand. One didn’t embrace the exotic psychic. Messes with her aligned wavelengths, she claimed.
She touched my outstretched fingers. Dark, unfathomable eyes gazed into mine. “Ah, Jolene, darling, I rushed over as soon as I received your message. I hope I’m not too late.”
Because I’d never placed a physical phone call to her, I knew she referred to the Universal hotline available to all enlightened souls. Unbeknownst to me, I’d placed a person-to-person psychic call for help, and she’d received the summons.
Voices emitting from the rear of the salon alerted me that the staff had arrived. Deena emerged from her office, and seeing me with a client, indicated that she would deal with the staff. Not wanting to be overheard, I steered Madame Mia to Deena’s vacant office.
“Have a seat.” I closed the door behind her. “My situation requires discretion.”
“I’m here to help, my dear.” Her low throaty voice washed over me like warm bathwater, and I relaxed into its purposeful seduction.
My front pocket vibrated. Bradford. I answered immediately. “I know Snow White’s true identity. Madame Mia is here with me now in Deena’s office. Get over to the salon ASAP.”
“On my way,” he answered and disconnected the line.
While I waited for Bradford to arrive, I explained the situation to Madame Mia, beginning with Halloween night and ending with her arrival several minutes ago, stopping only to answer her questions.
“Oh what a tangled web we weave, when we first practice to deceive,” she murmured as my voice trailed off. “Sir Walter Scott. An ancestor of mine.”
Okay, so she’s weird. Aren’t we all? I lay claim to witch DNA—on my daddy’s side. Way back to the Salem witch trials in 1692. Poor soul lost her life over an independence of mind and an unsubmissive character. A family trait Billie Jo and I proudly display.
Bradford arrived minutes later. He strode through the door with his hat in hand, gave a nod of acknowledgement in the psychic’s direction, and relaxed down in the chair beside me. I breathed in the familiar scent of his woodsy aftershave and had to quell the impulse to climb onto his lap and snuggle close like in times past. He pulled a sheet of folded paper from his inside blazer pocket. “The body has been positively identified as Careen Halsey from Hawkinsville, Georgia. The news will be released today at noon.”
“Hello to you, too,” I said, a little huffed at his casual manner. He been out of touch for four days and not even a “howdy-do”? He could at least explain why he hadn’t returned my calls or answered my texts.
Bradford answered my sarcasm with a heart-melting smile that burned its way down to my twinkie pie. “Sorry, Jolene, for my lack of manners.” He turned to Madame Mia, who sat in her chair like a regal queen. “Jolene speaks highly of you, Madame.”
She inclined her head. “As she does of you, Detective.”
I glanced at my watch. “Look, I don’t have much time, so let’s get on with it.” I turned to Bradford. “I know all about Careen Halsey. She showed up this morning, and is right now ensconced in the facial room.”
“How?” Bradford began but I stopped him.
“Let me finish,” I said, and for the next several minutes I relayed my earlier conversation with Careen.
“Everything leads back to Vanessa.” Bradford rubbed his chin. “We’ve got to find her. She’s the key to this case.”
“Any leads?” I questioned.
“None that I’ve been able to uncover.”
“Perhaps I could help.”
Bradford and I both regarded Madame Mia. The back of my neck tingled. A sure sign of good luck.
“What do you suggest?” Bradford’s voice echoed his doubts of her authenticity and honesty.
The psychic lifted a hand to brush ebony strands from her flawless ivory cheek. “A reading, of course. Tonight, at my house. A storm is brewing.” She gave him a sultry smile. “The spirits love to play in the rain, detective. They’ll tell us what we want to know.”
Bradford sighed with exasperation. “I’ll pass. I’ve had enough of ghosts and spirits.”
“Have you got a better strategy?” When he didn’t answer right away, I stood to my feet. “We accept, Madame Mia.”
The ravishing psychic rose to her feet, smoothing the white silk over her knees. “M
idnight. My usual fee, of course.”
“Midnight it is.” I gave Bradford a backward glance as I escorted her out into the reception area. At the front door, she lightly touched my hand. “I sense something evil is at hand. Please be careful, Jolene. Don’t trust the ones closest to you.”
I swallowed hard as she dropped my fingers, pushed through the door and out into the morning sunlight, leaving her signature lilac scent behind. With her strange warning ringing in my ears, I retraced my steps to Deena’s office where Bradford waited. Time for a strategy planning session with the hunky detective. It’s all about strategy.
****
The private chat never took place. Mama and Daddy landed right about then and things went south from there. Not only did my parents arrive, but Roddy and a couple of his construction boys to rehang the doors. Add to the chaos, a disturbed staff and curious clients, and then to add insult to injury, funky noises started up in the facial room. Deena flipped out and started crying, and of course, Mama blamed me.
At some point in the madness, Bradford sneaked out of Deena’s office and hightailed it back to sanity. He did, however, send me a text that he’d pick me up around elevenish for our midnight rendezvous with Madame Mia. Lucky me.
When the afternoon rolled around, I was more than ready to pull my hair out one kinky, dark blonde strand at a time. The only highlight of the day happened when Hattie Sanford came in for a chemical relaxer.
A gracious African American woman of seventy plus years, Hattie Sanford was a longtime client, and the great aunt of Ellie Malone, my former nail tech. Ellie had quit Dixieland Salon to open up her own business after she hooked up with her own personal limitless bank account named Ryan Herrington. My sisters believe I’m responsible for nudging her out the door when I accused her and Ryan of helping his father exit this life. Turns out I was wrong. Word around town was she and Ryan were happy newlyweds.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Sanford.” I draped her thin shoulders with a leopard print plastic shampoo cape. “How’s life treating you these days?”
“Jesus has been good to me, Miss Jolene.” She flashed a white, toothy smile. “Leroy and I are celebrating our fifty-second wedding anniversary this week. Ellie is throwing us a shindig down at the Moose Lodge.”
A Dead Pig in the Sunshine Page 12
