A Dead Pig in the Sunshine

by Penny Burwell Ewing

  “Yes, and Sophia. She had a trusted friend who proved extremely helpful. He placed the gun in Careen’s hand and fired a second shot to make it appear as a suicide if the body was ever discovered which we didn’t anticipate with the site being abandoned for so long. We tossed the body behind a large headstone at the back of the cemetery.”

  “She was in on it all the time?”

  “Had to be. Sophia and Mother made it possible for me to carry out the pretense. Without them, none of this would’ve been possible.”

  “And the friend?”

  “Snellgrove.”

  “I knew he was tangled up in this mess. Tell me why you concocted this whole charade, Vanessa?”

  She jangled the golden handcuffs. “Jealousy. I recognized Careen’s talent with the first sentence of her Dark Enchantment series. She was young and naïve, and bore a striking resemblance to me, so I seized the opportunity to live the life I’ve always dreamed. We both profited from the exchange.”

  “Until it backfired.”

  “Until she double-crossed me is what you mean.”

  “You lie!” Careen glowed a bright white. “Liar. I’m innocent.”

  My body peppered with goose bumps at Vanessa’s ghostly chuckle.

  “Michael showed up at the Baconton Writers’ Retreat the next day full of himself. He and Careen planned the whole ugly scheme. With me gone, she could easily step into my life without the complications of a pretense.”

  “I’m confused,” I confessed. “With the discovery of Vanessa’s body in the garage, wouldn’t the body double come to light? I mean, damn, this is confusing. I don’t know what I mean.”

  “I was never to be found,” Vanessa said. “Careen, posing as me, would tell my mother she’d accidently killed Careen. Betty would then help her daughter dispose of the body. When Careen needed to make an appearance in Hawkinsville, she would appear as herself. Really a brilliant plan when you think about it. One person, two identities—only she and Michael would know the truth.”

  I whistled in amazement at the deceit of both parties. “So all this time, you’ve been playing along with Michael? What happened at the cabin?”

  “Michael discovered my true identity when he asked me a family question I couldn’t answer. We tussled, and he slashed my arm with a knife. He forced me to go along with him.”

  “To the Maco mansion? What’s the connection?”

  “He and Careen met there often when he was in town,” Vanessa said. “The property belongs to their great aunt.”

  “If he forced you, then how did he come to be beaten and tied to a chair?” I asked her. “Your story doesn’t mesh, Vanessa.”

  Careen snickered. “She’s a liar.”

  Vanessa ignored her. “I managed to knock him out with an old chair. I tied him up and then used his cell phone to call my mother. Sophia called her friend for more help.”

  “Sheriff Snellgrove.” I spat the name with disgust. “Careen saw you arguing with him at the cemetery where they found her body.”

  “We were arguing over the price of his silence.”

  “This would make a great book,” Scarlett said from her perch on the stovetop. “Completely unbelievable but entertaining.”

  I made a dismissive wave. “Let her finish, Scarlett. I want to know who tried to bash my brain in.”

  Vanessa picked up where she left off. “Well, after they arrived, we decided Michael knew too much.”

  “You killed him?”

  “No, just gave him a good thrashing. We hadn’t figured out what to do with him when you showed up and scared us plenty. Sophia didn’t mean to hit you so hard.”

  I rubbed the still sore area. “Who was wearing the ruby ring?”

  She seemed surprised with the question. “What ruby ring?”

  “The same one I saw on your corpse.”

  Vanessa’s shoulders drew in, her face pinched and strained. “That’s all I know.” She blinked in and out several times, becoming almost transparent.

  That was the end of my questions. With her burdens in tow, Scarlett bid me farewell. The clock above the stove read 3:00. The witching hour. In my bedroom, I picked up the receiver to call Bradford, and changed my mind. Too much information for the phone. Tomorrow would be soon enough for him to arrest Vanessa’s mother and the other co-conspirators.

  Chapter Thirty

  Just When You Believe You Have It All Figured Out

  The doorbell rang early the next morning. I opened the door to a local florist deliveryman holding a stunning autumn bouquet of peach spray roses, burgundy mini carnations, butterscotch chrysanthemums, and dusty miller. I gasped with delight when the man handed over the orange vase of flowers. I closed the door behind him and placed the arrangement on the foyer table and reached for the card. It read:

  I’m sorry for last night. Please give me another chance to win your heart as you are the woman of my dreams. Look inside the bouquet for the special gift I picked out just for you.

  Preston

  I pressed the card to my chest as my resistance melted, and a rush of warm, fuzzy affection washed over me at his thoughtfulness. From within the bouquet, I pulled out a white box with gold script I recognized from the jeweler down the block from Dixieland Salon. I paused with indecision, then opened the box.

  The kitchen phone shrilled but I ignored it, and continued to gaze in wonder at the simple, inexpensive Casper the Friendly Ghost bracelet charm resting on a blue velvet background. Several bricks crumbled from the wall encasing my heart. I tried to shore up the crack, but something gave as I stroked the smooth, white enamel.

  My attention wavered as the phone shrilled again. Tears pooled in my eyes as I made my way to the kitchen. Bradford. I let it ring several times more before I picked it up, needing the time to corral my conflicting emotions.

  “We need to talk,” he said in a neutral tone when I answered. “I’m in the neighborhood. Can I stop by?”

  “I’ll make coffee.” My tone matched his, although my heart rate sped up at the prospect of seeing him. The white mother-of-pearl charm mocked me from its velvet bed. My mind drifted to Preston and his thoughtful apology.

  “See you in five.” The line disconnected. I set the opened box and card on the table and went to the counter to make coffee. As the coffee dripped, I pulled a roll of orange Danish rolls from the refrigerator and popped them in to bake. To give the kitchen a cheery burst of color and scent, I placed the bouquet of flowers in the center of the table. A car pulled into the driveway.

  A knock sounded at the kitchen door, and Bradford stepped in and took a seat. “Good morning.”

  I poured a mug of coffee and placed it in front of him. “Good morning. Let me check these rolls and then we’ll talk.”

  “I see your date went well. You finally shared your secret.”

  So he noticed the flowers and the Casper charm. “Yes, and no. I overreacted and made an ass of myself.” I joined him at the table with a mug of coffee. “What’s up?”

  “You were right. The body has been positively identified as Vanessa van Allen.”

  “I had unexpected visitors last night.”

  “Of the earthly kind?”

  “Once upon a time.”

  He picked up his mug and sipped. “A new mystery?”

  “God forbid. The evil twins and Scarlett.”

  His cup landed with a clunk on the wooden surface. “Vanessa and Careen? Together? What brought this about?”

  “I haven’t a clue, but Vanessa was in a chatty mood with an interesting story to share. Hold onto your chair because you’re not going to believe this tale of double-crossing doubles.” I repeated last night’s conversation. In the background, Tango purred under the table, and the tangy aroma of baking orange rolls filled the kitchen.

  He whistled when I stopped talking. “This is the wildest tale I’ve ever encountered. If it’s true.”

  I left the table to pull the hot rolls from the oven. “Careen swears Vanessa’s lying,
but I believe her. It explains Michael’s continued presence here in Whiskey Creek. He didn’t realize he’d killed the wrong woman until that last night at the writers’ retreat.”

  “There are still several loose ends that need explaining, and evidence to collect. That’s one reason I wanted to talk with you. We haven’t been able to find any trace of the car you described.”

  I spread icing on the hot rolls and transferred them onto a plate. “You should check to see if Sophia owns a car. And Snellgrove.”

  “He drives a Ford truck.” Bradford pushed back from the table and crossed to the counter where he poured coffee into his mug. “I’ll also check Michael Halsey’s mode of transportation.”

  “What about Hazel Jessup? She’s a relative so she could’ve been involved.” I set the plate of rolls on the table. “Her house is the crime scene.”

  Bradford took his seat and reached for a plate and fork. “Impossible. Hazel Jessup is ninety-five and housebound.” He scooped up a couple of rolls. “Hazel’s attorney takes care of her property.”

  “He’s doing a piss-poor job. That old house should’ve been razed to the ground years ago. I’m surprised it’s lasted this long. It’s a magnet for bored teenagers and the homeless.” I took a bite of warm roll, the combination of cinnamon and sweet orange icing had me licking my lips. “Umm.”

  “The cause of the fire is still under investigation, but it smells like arson.” He upended his coffee mug and placed it back down on the table. “I’ve got to run up to Hawkinsville this morning, but should return by the afternoon.” He pushed back from the table and reached for his Stetson. “Diamond can get a message to me if needed.” He shoved his hat on his head, reached down, and kissed my upturned nose. “When this is over, sunshine, you and I have some serious talking to do about our relationship. I’m staking my claim, and it’ll take more than Casper the Friendly Ghost to chase this ole cowboy away.”

  ****

  When I arrived at the salon, Deena shared a quick word with me and then off she went to the First Baptist Church for a meeting with the organist and the wedding singer for hire. Mama was in on it, I believe, and Billie Jo too, which left me holding down the fort. And that was perfectly fine with me since I needed the alone time to work out relationship issues smothering my brain cells. I do my best thinking at work. The swishing of running water, whirling blow-dryers, and chatting clients were the perfect foil for this stressed-out hairdresser to zone out. I could wrap a perm, roll hair, wax lips, and just about any other job associated with hairdressing in my sleep, which was why I spent many hours ironing out problems in my favorite think tank—Dixieland Salon.

  This morning’s problems were different in two ways. Preston Neally and Samuel Bradford. Both were vying for my attention. Two highly respected, sought-after Whiskey Creek bachelors, and I had my choice. The detective or the doctor? The detective had a big gun, but the doctor knew how to manipulate body parts in ways that left one blasting through the stars in search of the Almighty. I fingered the ghost charm on my bracelet.

  “Something’s cooking in your pot and it’s tickling your nose,” a voice broke into my steamy thoughts. I glanced in the mirror to see Mrs. Eisenberg’s inquisitive green gaze mirrored back. “Must be a man,” she twittered.

  “Or two.” I flashed a coy smile and touched the ghost charm.

  Her grin grew wider. “No wonder you’re lollygagging in fantasyland.” She clicked her tongue. “I had two beaus once upon a time before wrinkles came to live on my face.”

  I wrapped another roller into her silvery hair. “Beauty never fades, Mrs. Eisenberg.”

  She reached up and patted my hand. “Sweet girl, tell this old woman about your two beaus.”

  A sudden shyness came over me at the prospect of sharing my complex situation with a client. Even one as long-standing as Mrs. Eisenberg. Deena’s my usual go-to person, but with her overloaded with last minute wedding details, this seemed ideal. And I really did want some advice from this gentle old soul.

  “Casper must be a special gift,” Mrs. Eisenberg said. “From one of your men, I’m guessing by the way you keep touching it. Tell me about him.”

  I dropped my hand from caressing the charm. “You guessed right. The charm has a special meaning.”

  “Tell me about them, Jolene.” Her encouraging motherly smile gazed back at me from the mirror.

  “The charm was a gift from Dr. Preston Neally.”

  “Ah, a doctor. I’m impressed. Go on, tell me all about your handsome doctor.”

  “Well, Preston is a nice man. Successful, financially secure, owns his own home, and dependable and stable. Has a bright future here in Whiskey Creek. Oh, and thoughtful.”

  “He sounds delightful, my dear. And the other?”

  “Detective Samuel Bradford.”

  Mrs. Eisenberg’s eyes grew wide. “Oh dear. Him again? Are you sure that’s wise, honey? I mean, he’s a looker for sure, but you’ve been bucked off that horse a time or two. Stick with the doctor. He’s a sure bet.”

  I grimaced in good humor. “Sam’s a good guy, Mrs. Eisenberg. He’s stuck his neck out several times for my family. He deserves another chance.”

  “I heard he’s leaving town. How does that fit into your plans? Your family and business are here.”

  Good question. I’d asked myself the same thing numerous times since that ill-fated night of lovemaking. Mrs. Eisenberg’s hand closed over mine. “I can see you’re in for a hard time, honey. Choosing between two men ain’t easy, but neither is following your heart. Love is never what the movies make it out to be, Jolene. Just when you think you have it all figured out, they stab you in the heart. Hard work, love.”

  I nodded my head but remained quiet, ready to move onto a safer subject. Luckily, she too clammed up, her eyes glazed over as in deep thought. Probably rehashing marital difficulties of her own.

  The morning passed quickly, without incident, and when I next noted the time, it was after lunch. With my next client running late, I ran back to the kitchen for a quick bite to eat. When I drew abreast of the facial room door, a weird sensation of pinpricks showered my body. I stopped and touched the doorknob to find it hot. I jerked my hand away and stood frozen, staring at the closed panel, uncertain how to handle the growing crisis. Just this morning I heard an offhand remark from Lizzie’s client about the creepy hallway and not wanting to use the restroom. And not just her, our nail tech had complained several times of spooked and lost customers. She had even threatened to shorten her two-week notice by one week if we didn’t fix the “creepy hallway.”

  The rear entrance door opened, and I glanced up to see Deena stroll through with a pleased expression, which quickly faded when she spotted me. “Please tell me there’s not another problem in the facial room? One Hell’s angel is enough.”

  I shook my head. “Not yet, but our visitor is getting frisky.”

  “You said you’d take care of it.”

  “I haven’t found anyone willing to perform an exorcism.”

  “Don’t say another word.” She glanced down the hall, then stepped over to the kitchen door, opened it, and peered inside. “It’s empty. Can’t take the chance and have our conversation being broadcast.”

  “Let’s continue this discussion in the kitchen, Deena. I’m starving and don’t have much time before my client arrives.” She followed me into the kitchen and took a seat at the table, while I dug around in the refrigerator for the brown paper bag lunch I brought from home. With the bag and a bottled water, I sat across from her at the table.

  “Clients are complaining again.” I took a bite of my peanut butter and jelly sandwich. “They don’t like our creepy hallway.”

  “What happened with the Catholic priest?”

  “They showed me the door.”

  “Why? Did you say something off-putting?” She pinched off a bite of my sandwich and popped it into her mouth.

  “Ah, other than I have a demon in my facial room?” I drank down severa
l gulps of cold water. “He then asked me if I’d been to confession lately, and I responded with a laugh.”

  “That was off-putting, Jolene.”

  “We’re Baptist, Deena. We don’t confess our sins in a closet.”

  “Do you suppose Pastor Inman could help?”

  “I tried. He suggested counseling and threatened to call Mama.”

  “Oh, good heavens, not that. Can you imagine if she knew? Any suggestions?”

  “All out of holy men, Deena. Although the Pentecostals were the most help.” I polished off my sandwich.

  “What about Scarlett? Can she help?”

  I downed the last drink of water. “She’s our last hope, but it’ll have to wait for a better time. She’s shackled to the evil twins at the moment.”

  Deena gave a twisted smile. “On a better note, my wedding is less than two weeks away and everything is in order. Smooth sailing ahead. How’s things between you and Sam?”

  I told her the latest, including the visit from the evil twins.

  “I wish I hadn’t asked.” She rose and pushed away from the table. “I’m worried, Jolene. You’ve placed yourself in danger too many times. One day you’re going to get seriously hurt or worse.”

  I agreed with her but couldn’t voice my feelings lest I upset her further, yet neither could I treat her worries lightly. As I’d done in the past, I pasted on my big sister smile, and dropped an arm over her shoulder. “From this day forward, let’s concentrate on getting you married to the greatest man on the planet, okay? I promise there’ll be no more drama from your Maid of Honor.”

  Deena lifted her face to mine and planted a kiss on my cheek. “You promise?”

  I made an X sign over my heart. “Cross my heart and hope to die.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Cross my Heart and Hope to Die?

  All my good intentions came crashing down around 3:30. I’d just finished a color job when Bradford strolled through the door like a red-caped bullfighter facing an enraged bull after a long and gruesome fight. My stomach tightened when his steeled visage focused on me. Reading his urgent vibrations, I hurried my client to the reception desk where Holly waited to take payment. “Reschedule my next appointment, Holly. If she raises a fuss, see if Lizzie can squeeze her in. I have an emergency.”