A Dead Pig in the Sunshine

by Penny Burwell Ewing

  Not sure I wanted to open the door at all, I hesitated, then pressed my ear against the panel hoping to gauge the movement and determine whether my guest was dead or alive. No sound. Nothing. I eased open the door and snaked my arm around to the light switch. White fluorescent light flooded the room, lighting the corners. Nothing scurried beneath my feet. Apparently, my guest hailed from the Other Side. Hmm. Strange that I couldn’t discern its presence.

  “I know you’re in here, so please do me the curiosity of showing yourself,” I announced in my sternest voice. “If you plan to stay I need advance notice. No acceptations or I’ll be forced to call in the Georgia Giant and believe me, you don’t want that. Scarlett doesn’t share well.”

  My guest failed to materialize. Whoever or whatever shared the space with me wasn’t playing ball. A quick inspection of the room turned up no visible results, so I turned out the light, bolted shut the door, and also left by the rear entrance.

  At home, I showered and changed into comfortable jeans and a shirt and drove out to Bradford’s ranch on the outskirts of town. The sun had set when I parked behind his pickup truck and rang the doorbell.

  The door swung open with gusto. “Come in, my sweet.” He handed me a glass of blackberry wine as I stepped inside. “I have the steaks ready to go on the grill. I hope you’re hungry.”

  “Always,” I responded and followed him out to the comfy screened-in patio adjoining the house. Taking my favorite rocking chair, I sank down and nursed the wine, my mind tumbling over the fast-moving events of the past week.

  “You’re quiet. What’s going on?” Bradford sat down in the chair beside me with a cold beer in hand.

  “Lately, a lot.” I gulped down the wine and held out the glass for a refill. “Billie Jo is out of commission for the foreseeable future, Deena is relocating to Atlanta after her wedding, I’m bleeding employees, and I need an assistant to handle my overflow. Any chance Diamond might be persuaded to change careers? Mrs. Eisenberg was just asking about her today, and I’m seriously considering making her an offer she can’t pass up. I need her more than you do.”

  Officer Diamond Presley had come to my rescue when the mob put a bull’s-eye target on my back. Lucky for me, my undercover bodyguard had worked in a beauty shop before becoming a cop. Once she joined our team, her sense of humor and sharp street smarts captured the respect of the staff and patrons alike. Now that I thought about it, she’d be the perfect solution to my employment woes.

  Bradford chuckled. “Diamond is irreplaceable, Jolene, and she’s up for detective with me leaving the force. I doubt you’ll make any headway with her, but you can try.”

  “I’ll give her a call next week and make a lunch date.” I changed the subject. “About Mini Pearl.”

  Bradford filled my glass to the brim with the dark berry wine. “Put away for safekeeping,” was his answer, which suited me just fine. As long as the cursed thing was out of sight, it would remain out of mind.

  He took a long pull from his beer. “I swung by Vanessa’s house unannounced this afternoon.”

  “And?”

  “I found nothing out of the ordinary. Betty seemed genuinely surprised to see me and even suggested I search the house. Which I did and found nothing suspicious.”

  “She had ample warning, Bradford. Betty knew I’d run straight to you, giving her time to hide the evidence. Someone other than her and the maid are living in that house. And somehow Sheriff Snellgrove figures into this.”

  He climbed to his feet and disappeared into the house, emerging several minutes later with the steaks. “I have the same suspicion as you, honey, but I have to prove it.” He laid the steaks on the hot grill. “Snellgrove is as wily as a fox, and I’ve run into a dead end. I am at a loss what to do next.”

  “We’re no closer to the truth?” I inhaled the delicious aroma of grilling beef and felt the slight stirrings of hunger.

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “So, what do we know?”

  Bradford flipped the steaks, releasing a burst of aromatic delight, making my mouth water. He turned to face me with tongs in hand. “Well, for one thing, we know that Careen did not commit suicide. How Snellgrove fixed that, I’ll find out. Second, we know that Vanessa is alive according to several witnesses. And third—the clue of the ruby ring. We know its owner is an accomplice.”

  My earlier visit with the vampire queen’s mother flashed to mind. “Betty van Allen is the accomplice, and Snellgrove her sidekick. And I’d bet that ruby ring is in her possession. I suggest you get a search warrant.”

  “The judge needs more than your ringing endorsement, Jolene,” he reminded me. “He won’t issue a warrant without sufficient cause.”

  I downed the last sip of wine. “Well, at least you’re free of Snow White.”

  He lifted his bottle in a mock toast. “Here’s to the good things in life, my dear.” With that done, he removed the steaks from the grill and opened another bottle of wine. Under the sparkling, star-studded sky, we stuffed ourselves on food and laughter. Oh, and yeah, more wine.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  You Are My Sunshine

  I awoke the next morning in Bradford’s bed satiated, but with a whooper of a hangover. Rolling over and seeing his side of the bed empty, I groaned with self-disgust and loathing for giving in to my primal needs, and covered my face with a pillow. Christ, I needed psychotherapy in the worse way. Sleeping with two men in less than a week and loving every second of it? What does that say about my moral standards? Mama was right in saying that I’ve got to get control of my panties.

  “Good morning, sunshine.” Bradford’s cheery voice filtered through the pillow. “I have coffee and donuts, unless you’d like something else to get your motor running?” His suggestive tone had me flailing from under the covers, and I emerged to witness his rugged face wreathed in laughter.

  He handed me a cup of steaming coffee. “Umm,” I said after the first sip. “You remembered how I like it.”

  “I remember everything about you, Jolene.” He propped himself against the pillows. “You are my sunshine in every way, and I love you.”

  Most women lived to hear those timeless words spoken in a loving manner, but not me. For me, time ceased with those three dreaded words. I froze with the cup against my trembling lips. I dared not raise my gaze to meet his as I knew he’d only see pain and confusion reflected there. You see, I’m terrified of love and the “until death we do part” and all that marriage stuff. One divorce is enough. Never again, had become my motto over the years. I enjoyed the benefits of a serious relationship, but only in separate residences and plenty of space between us—the more the better. This gal wasn’t looking for a wedding ring to seal the deal.

  His fingers brushed my cheeks and forced my chin upward. His eyes glowed gentle and calm. “It’s okay, Jolene. You don’t have to say the words. I understand your fear.”

  I felt a pang of sadness for us both. Not long from now we would be saying goodbye forever, and, over time, he would forget all about the girl he left behind in Whiskey Creek, Georgia.

  Coffee forgotten, I set the cup down on the nightstand and placed my hand in his. “The time isn’t right for us, Bradford. If you were staying, maybe we could work out our issues, but your life is changing for the better. My life is here.”

  “I’m not leaving the planet, Jolene. Wyoming is only two thousand miles away.”

  “And that’s forever, Bradford. Face it. When you leave, it’s over.”

  At his look of heartbreak, a part of me wanted to give in, to give him what he wanted—a promise of a new life in Wyoming. But I balked. Whiskey Creek held too many memories. The sweeping cotton fields dressed like winter snow bunnies, all white and gleaming. The intoxicating scent of freshly tilled red dirt ready for spring planting. The cobblestone streets on Main Street, and the Saturday downtown Farmers Market with homemade goods for sale, and lastly the peanut farm where I grew up with my family. I loved the South. It was home. />
  His phone chimed, giving me the opportunity to grab my clothes and disappear into the master bath. Twenty minutes later, showered and dressed, I found Bradford in the kitchen loading the dishwasher. With his back to me, he hadn’t heard my approach, I paused, studying the smooth movement of his muscled physique. My heart constricted as I continued to stare, implanting his memory to be brought out and replayed after his departure. Why the sweet torture? Damn those three cursed words.

  I must’ve made a sound because he glanced over his shoulder and saw me frozen to the floor. His Mona Lisa smile ripped into my heart like an eagle’s talons snagging a baby bunny for an early morning snack.

  “The chief has requested a meeting with me first thing this morning. I need to head out,” he said in a low, composed voice. “You’re welcome to stay longer.”

  Hang around his cozy kitchen? The place where we shared love and laughter? No, I was ready to ride my Mustang at breakneck speed back to town, leaving “I love you” in the dust. The sooner we put last night and this morning behind us, the better.

  I kept my tears in check as he handed me into my car and closed the driver’s door. “Drive careful on your way home.” He leaned into the opened window and pecked my cheek. “I’ll call you this evening.”

  As I drove off an overwhelming rush of sadness filled me. Pressing hard on the gas, I let the Mustang loose and arrived home without a speeding ticket and devoid of any lasting regrets. I wasted no time, but fed Tango, changed into a cute, form-fitting jean skirt and blouse, and drove to the salon. And straight into another cocked and loaded entanglement as Preston’s white Lexus SUV came into view.

  My brain blew a gasket. “Geez, not again,” I screamed over the jazz music booming from the car speakers. “I can’t take another relationship confrontation this morning.” Bradford’s tender “I love you” continued to clang in my mind like Sunday morning church bells. In my distress, I failed to perceive a subtle change in the car’s atmosphere.

  “I take it your two-timing ways have finally caught up with you,” Scarlett said from the passenger seat.

  “Look who’s calling the kettle black.” I gave her my evilest eye possible while zipping into my parking space. “I can’t talk now, Scarlett.”

  “Find the time, Cruella. You’ve got a tiger on your tail.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I watched Preston climb out of his SUV.

  “Trouble is stalking you. Keep your eyes and ears open. Watch your step. Carry a big stick. Look over your shoulder. Duck and ask questions later. Got it?”

  “Dead or alive?”

  “Both.”

  “Who’s in the facial room?”

  “The dead one.”

  “Ha, ha. A name?”

  Silence answered. Preston drew nearer.

  “Give me a name, Scarlett.”

  “Don’t have one. Your other boy toy is here. See ya.”

  No further questions were possible as Preston had opened my door. “Jolene, I want to apologize for walking out of your house the other day. I know you didn’t mean what you said.”

  I climbed out of the car and slammed the door. “Wrong. I did mean it. I won’t allow a man to make my choices, or question the ones I make. And while we’re at it, I’ll not be joined at the hip, understood?”

  His hand rested lightly on my shoulder. “Of course, darling. I wouldn’t think of crowding you.” That same hand dropped to his side. “Let’s talk tonight over dinner. There’s a new restaurant in Valdosta with rave reviews. We could take the long way home.”

  I was in no mood to be generous. “Not tonight, Preston. I have a full day of appointments, and an evening with Deena and her wedding plans. Some other time.”

  “Soon?”

  His expectant face left me with no other option but to agree. I took my leave of him and unlocked the rear entrance door, stepping inside to the morning quiet and headed straight for the facial room, now more curious than ever about my mysterious invisible guest. All thoughts of Bradford vanished as Scarlett’s unexplained warning circled in my head. I withdrew my key ring, selected the appropriate key, and inserted it into the lock.

  The door swung open with a gentle push. All lay still and quiet as an odd waiting silence settled over the room. Goose bumps peppered my skin as I switched on the overhead lights from the doorway. My danger meter beeped an urgent alert. I backed away and inhaled a deep breath to keep fear at bay. Unbidden, something sinister had taken over my facial room. The vibrational field felt wrong, and I never dismissed intuition. I shivered as cold, stale air began to filter in from an unknown source.

  “Okay, I know you’re in here,” I told the thing in a shaky voice. “This is my salon, and I want you to leave now.” I hesitated, then added as an afterthought, “In Jesus’s name.”

  The door slammed shut in my face forcing me to jump back and collide with the opposite wall.

  Okay. Enough said. Shaken, I relocked the door and bolted into the kitchen to make a pot of ultra-strong coffee. I glanced down at my watch. 7:53. Excellent. Deena is always here by eight. Plenty of time for a powwow before the staff and clients arrive.

  Dreading the coming confrontation with Bridezilla, I plopped down on a chair and sent out a Universal SOS to Scarlett. With coffee in hand, I then waited for either the live or dead one to show up first. Several minutes later the back door opened and closed. Footsteps sounded in the hallway.

  The live one. Good. Best to get the bad over with first. Climbing to my feet, I stuck my head out the door. “Coffee’s ready. Got a minute?”

  “Yeah, I need to talk with you anyhow.” Deena’s tone reflected more bridal woes. Just what I needed.

  I handed her a cup of black coffee and sat across from her at the table. “You go first.”

  Deena gulped down a swallow of hot coffee, not evening flinching. “No, you first. Your news can’t compare to mine.”

  My stomach clenched at her stricken face. Damn. Now what had the Universe dumped in my lap? Wasn’t a murder, a kidnapping, and an evil entity haunting my salon enough? “The good news is we don’t have a rodent problem, and my invisible friends aren’t back.”

  “And the bad?” Deena peered over her coffee cup.

  “One of Hell’s angels dropped in for a visit.”

  “We have an uninvited ghost?”

  “Yes and no.” I pushed back from the table to fetch the coffee pot. “Our guest is definitely uninvited and looking for trouble, but it’s not a human spirit or ghost as they’re called.”

  “So what are you saying?”

  “I’m saying we need an exorcism.”

  “How do you exorcise a beauty shop?”

  “With a Catholic priest.”

  “And where do we get one of those?”

  I refilled our coffee cups to the brim. “In the yellow pages, where else?”

  “Mama’s not going to like this,” she pointed out. “We’re Baptist.”

  “Mama’s not going to know,” I grumbled. “And I’m confident the demon in the facial room doesn’t care which denomination we hail from.”

  “Do you suppose the priest would exorcise the family while he’s at it? You know, throw in a two-for-one kind of a deal?”

  I laughed. “I could ask if he’d give a family discount.”

  She fell silent, her eyes locked on mine. “I guess it’s my turn to share.”

  I stilled under her intense stare. “Only if you want to.”

  “I do.” She let out a burst of hysterical laughter. “I do. Ironic, I should use that phrase when I’ll never say it to Ryder. The wedding is off. His ex-wife is back in town, and I saw them together. They were kissing.”

  Shocked, I paused to gather my wits. “Maybe you misunderstood? Where did this happen?”

  “At Barron’s.”

  “Oh, Deena, the lighting in that restaurant is deplorable. You probably mistook another man for Ryder. That can happen, you know.”

  Her face brightened. “I didn’t se
e them but a minute before the waiter seated them in another section, and I didn’t dare confront them in public.”

  “I suggest you share your fears with Ryder concerning his ex-wife before calling off your wedding.”

  “Thanks, sis.” She rose from the table. “I believe I’ll go call him now.” She made it to the door before turning back to look at me. “The bad lighting explains why I imagined Vanessa and her agent having dinner in a corner booth.”

  I scampered from my seat. “Vanessa van Allen? In Barron’s? With Cash Hitchcock? Are you sure, Deena?”

  “Not after talking to you, I’m not. Probably another mistaken identity.”

  “Tell me everything.”

  “I saw a woman who bore a striking resemblance to Vanessa van Allen having dinner with Vanessa’s agent from Atlanta.”

  “You didn’t think to call the police? She’s a missing person.”

  “I had other things on my mind, Jolene. Like my fiancé kissing another woman!”

  Seeing her heightened distress, I backed off. “I’ll pass the information along to Bradford. You go call Ryder.”

  Deena pushed out the kitchen door, and I reached inside my shoulder bag for my phone. Punching in Bradford’s number, I waited for him to pick up, excited with the confirmation that Vanessa van Allen was indeed alive and well and we were close on her trail.

  ****

  “You’re jumping to conclusions, Jolene, based solely on secondhand information.” Bradford raised his hand as I opened my mouth in protest. “I’ll investigate Deena’s claim and get back with you.” His tone had a definite bite.

  We stared at one another over the insurmountable “I-love-you” wall, and I knew the time had come for me to clear the air. “About this morning—”

  “I’m here on a case, not personal business, so pay attention. I don’t have time for your excuses.”

  Well, shut my mouth. Rebellion flared like a supernova, and I clenched my teeth together to keep my toxic tongue in its cage. Once unleashed, I’d set fire to him and everyone in my path, and since we were sitting at one of the outside tables at Shake-N-Shack during a packed lunch crowd, that wouldn’t be a wise choice. Several of my longtime clients lunched nearby, and every once in a while, one of the feline bitches threw covert glances our way.