Sophia arrived first, but Mama was waiting for her with a vase of flowers. I creamed Betty with a hardcopy of Vanessa’s latest book lying on the coffee table. Exhausted, but alive, Mama and I made for the front door. We threw it open and launched ourselves out into the cool, autumn night, the distant wail of a siren heralding the end of our dangerous ordeal.
The rest of the night passed painfully slow. Diamond arrived first, then the paramedics, Bradford, and last, the GBI. Mama and I were checked out for any possible injuries, and then gave a short statement before being released to go home. The commotion brought out the neighbors, and they gawked from the sidewalks as uniformed officers taped off the area with yellow crime scene tape. Daddy arrived amid the whirling lights and first responders carting out the injured. He rushed to Mama’s arms.
“I’m fine, Harland,” she said when he calmed down enough for her to get a word in. “Jolene and I bagged the whole bunch.” She turned a bright face in my direction. “Clobbered ’em good, we did.”
After making arrangements to pick up her car in the morning, Mama and Daddy took off for the farm, promising to stop by the salon tomorrow while they were in town. I kissed them both goodnight, and headed for my car. Diamond waylaid me between the front lawn and the driveway.
“I heard you want to hire me away from the department.” She laid a reassuring hand on my shoulder.
“The rumor is true. I need the help.”
“What’s the pay?”
“Minimum wage and tips.”
“Not much less than I’m making risking my life.”
“I’ll throw in a lifetime supply of manis and pedis.”
“I’ll get back with you.” She opened the Mustang’s driver’s door, then looked over her shoulder at Bradford making his way to us. “Give him a chance, Jolene. You gave him a real scare with this stunt, but I suspect he’ll get over it soon enough.” She turned and walked away.
I slid behind the wheel and shut the door. Bradford stuck his head in the opened window. “I have a lot to say to you, but I’m too damn mad right now, so I know I’ll screw it up. Go home and I’ll swing by in the morning.”
“I’ll want details,” I told him as the engine roared to life. “This case is so twisted, I can’t figure it out.”
“I know.” He slapped the car door. “I’ll have all the answers in the morning.”
I backed the Mustang out of the drive and as I drove away, I glanced in the rearview mirror. Bradford stood like a statue, watching me. Tomorrow promised answers to lingering questions. The case would be closed, and Bradford would be free to leave Whiskey Creek. And that would bring up one last important question.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Two Men and a Hairdresser
The next morning dawned bright and clear. A cold front had pushed through bringing cloudless skies and bitter artic air. To keep out the chill, I bundled up in a corduroy jumper over a turtleneck pullover and lace-up boots. I tucked my hair into a chignon and added a cashmere beret and my Casper bracelet to complete the winter ensemble.
Since I’d scheduled only late appointments, I had a long, silent breakfast with just the gentle hum of the kitchen appliances and Tango’s insistent purring for background noise. The temporary pre-paid cell phone had been chunked into the garbage can, and I’d unplugged my landline. The constant ringing drove me buggy.
I did, however, read about the arrests on the front page of the Whiskey Creek Gazette. The story was short, limited in details, and Mama and I weren’t mentioned—thank God. Today I would keep my head down and avoid all drama. No ghosts, no murder mysteries, no writers of any kind. Especially reporters.
The staff had arrived by the time I pulled into my usual parking space and pushed through the back door. At the click of the door closing behind me, I smiled as the murmur of female chatting, whirling hair dryers, and whishing of running water combined in a symphony of harmonious music. I sighed with perfect contentment. Dixieland Salon was home. This collection of eclectic people were my family and friends. I paused as Deena stepped out of her office and scurried in the direction of the reception desk. The front doorbell jangled, and an excited eruption of oohs and aahs piqued my curiosity. My close brush with death had heightened my appreciation for the little things, like this moment in the safety of my beauty shop.
My boot heels click-clacked on the hardwood floor as I made my way to the reception area. At the locked facial room door, I rested a hand on the panel. The wood moved beneath my hand. Odd. Our unwanted guest still lingered. A problem to be dealt with later. Today, no drama. No ghosts. No trouble-making denizens of Hell.
When I rounded the corner, my mouth dropped open. The reception area overflowed with flowers of every color and shape. Baskets, vases, and buckets of floral arrangements. Roses. Daisies. Carnations. Asters.
Deena spotted me. “Jolene, you’ve got to stop him. Good Lord, if it continues there won’t be a flower left in town. Look at them!”
“I am,” I managed to croak out. “What’s going on?” A dozen pairs of eyes rested on me.
“There’s more in my office. They’ve been arriving all morning.”
I walked over to the reception desk. “Who are they from?” I fingered the velvet petal of a Gerber daisy.
She giggled. “Sam.”
“Impossible. He’s pissed at me.”
“Jolene, you ninny. This is what love looks like.”
I plucked a card from the arrangement of daisies. It read: Come away with me.
From the white roses: Wake up with me on snowcapped mountains.
The Asters: Walk with me in wide open spaces.
The Carnations: With me, every day will be a new adventure.
When I looked up from the card, I was surrounded by a dozen patrons with smiling faces and unopened cards in their outstretched hands. Even my staff had stopped their work to look on. Their clients perched on the edge of the stylist chairs in anticipation of my reaction.
Feelings and sensations bombarded me from every side. With a shaky smile, I received the cards from each lady, thanked her, and moved on to the next. I shoved the dozen unopened cards with a personal message from Bradford in my shoulder bag to read in private.
The front door bell jangled. Every eye turned expectantly. Aahs of disappointment rose at Preston’s arrival. All eyes went back to me as I went forward to greet him.
“Good morning, pretty lady.” He dropped a kiss on my cheek. “I’m afraid to ask about the flowers. Never seen so many outside of a florist shop.” He chuckled. “Why is everyone staring?”
I fingered the Casper charm. “They were hoping you were someone else.”
His gaze took in the flowers. “Detective Samuel Bradford. My competition. So? What’s it going to be? Me or him?”
“This isn’t the time or place.” I felt the heated gaze of a dozen curious eyes.
“You have to make a choice.”
“I have.”
“And?”
Again, the front door bell jangled. All sound ground to a halt as every eye swung to the man entering the shop. Detective Samuel Bradford with Stetson in hand.
Wonderful. Two men and a hairdresser. And an audience. Better and better.
He smiled. I smiled in return and excusing myself, went to greet him. “You bought me a flower shop.”
“I have half a mind to take them back after that dumb stunt you pulled last night.” He cast a glance at our audience. “Your doctor is here. Is there somewhere we can talk in private?”
“Deena’s office,” I suggested. “You go ahead. I need to have a word with Preston.”
“How about goodbye?” He flashed a snide smile, then turned and walked toward the office.
“Okay, everybody, show’s over,” I addressed the onlookers. “Back to work.” I stepped over to Preston, and took his hand. “Why don’t you wait for me in the kitchen? I won’t be long.”
Deena draped a sisterly arm around him. “Come on, Preston. I could use a cup of coff
ee.”
With Preston occupied, I joined Bradford in the office. “Long night at the station?” I sat down in the chair next to his.
He scrubbed a hand across his scruffy chin. “No, early morning flower shopping. I called in a couple of favors. They weren’t too happy with me dragging them out of bed before dawn.”
My tongue felt glued to the top of my mouth. “The case is over.”
“Just beginning for Fallon. The D.A. will have his hands full with this one. Halsey clammed up, but the others took plea deals in exchange for turning State’s evidence against Halsey.”
“How did he convince them to go along with his plan?”
“They were in so deep they had no choice. The only way for them to escape jail time was to trust Halsey. Bad choice.”
“And Snellgrove?”
“Unrequited love pushed him over the moral edge.” He surprised me by laughing. “Idiot.”
“Sophia is a cold fish. They deserve one another.”
“Oh, and we found the missing manuscript among Halsey’s possession.”
“Yeah? I guess that’s good news for some folks. Bad for others.” I didn’t bother concealing my amusement. “What happens now?”
“It’s bagged and put away for evidence. After the trial, who knows?”
My gaze caressed every muscle. “So you’re free to leave Whiskey Creek.” My voice bottomed out.
He reached for my hand. “I’m leaving in the morning.” His luminous eyes held mine captive, smoldering.
“So soon? I thought we’d have more time.” The words gushed out. “You haven’t closed on the ranch.”
His finger traced a fiery path up my arm. “I’ll be back in a couple of weeks for the closing. I hired a professional moving company to pack and move my furniture, but I need to know how big a place I’m buying.”
I inhaled a deep breath. The moment had arrived sooner than I had anticipated, but I knew what I wanted. Had been wrestling with it all night, and now the time had come to let the others in on my decision. I crossed my fingers for good luck, hoping I wasn’t about to make another monumental mistake. “Since I’m only going to say this once, let me fetch Preston.” I left the office and made for the kitchen. I’d taken about ten steps when my intuitive knowing picked up an incoming celestial visitor.
“Meet me in the dispensary,” Scarlett’s voice buzzed in my ear. “This is a family emergency. Life or death!”
The tone of her voice had me dashing for the small room at the back of the salon. Life or death, she’d said. Crap. Death is the food of drama. Scarlett floated over the counter when I bolted into the room and eased the door shut. “What’s up?” The words exploded out of my mouth.
“I rushed down here as soon as I saw her name on the list of arriving saints.” Scarlett’s voice pitched high with excitement. “I had to warn you, although, I could pay heavily for snitching. If the Boss learns I’m down here, I’ll be pitching a tent with the earthworms.” Scarlett flashed a neon green, then a bright orange, and green again. I ducked down and placed both hands over my head.
“What the hell’s wrong with you, Claiborne? I’m trying to warn you about your mother’s impending arrival on the long, black train.”
I bounced upright. “What? Mama’s name is on the list? For Heaven?”
“Don’t know her final destination, but she’s on the list of arrivals.”
“How soon?”
“It hasn’t been posted, but soon, she’s on the list.”
“The list was wrong before.”
“Wrong, Claiborne. The list was correct all along. The evil twins are on trial as we speak.”
Damn. She’s right. Both were on the list. Both are dead. What to do? What to do? I smacked my fist against my palm. “Then I’ll stop it. I finally have both my parents together, and Mama’s not going anywhere.”
“You can’t stop the Death Angel, girlfriend.”
“I can and I will.”
Scarlett cocked her head. “Oh, dear, someone snitched that I’m down here. The Powers that Be are pissed. Listen, Jolene, stay out of it. If you interfere, you’ll regret it.”
“But Scarlett, you’re talking about my mother’s life. How can I stand by and do nothing? At least tell me how they plan to take her out so I can stop it.”
Scarlett faded in and out. “I only know she’s on the list. Don’t know the time or means. Could be an accident. Or murder. Or natural. Doesn’t matter. She’s headed for the judgement seat. Accept it, Jolene. And please, for my sake, stay out of it.”
“Forget it. Scarlett. I’ll fight Heaven and Hell for my mother.”
“You just may have to. The Dark Powers are always on the prowl for another soul to steal. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Scarlett faded away, leaving me alone. I hesitated for a moment, my brain scrambling for a plan. Nothing. Not deterred by my lack of brainpower, I bolted out of the room and dashed down the hall for my workstation to retrieve my shoulder bag. A surge of enraged injustice fired up my step, and I pounced on Holly as I rounded the corner. “Holly, cancel my appointments. Tell Deena I had an emergency and will call her later.”
Curious faces turned my way as I collected my handbag with my gun tucked inside, and retracted my steps back to the reception desk and to the rear of the salon. Outside, I dashed for the Mustang and slung open the door.
“Stop, Jolene! What about us?”
I pivoted at Bradford’s roar. “I have to leave, Bradford. Wait for me.” I slid behind the wheel.
He bound for the car. “How long do I wait?”
“As long as it takes.” I fired up the engine, and possibly the end of our relationship.
He reached the car and leaned in the open window. “You have an hour. After that, I’m gone”
“Fair enough.” I jerked the gearshift into drive. His face mirrored his disappointment, but he stepped back, allowing me passage. Our gazes locked in silent battle. Mama’s face transposed over his, and the spell broke. With desperation’s call to action, I hit the gas, and the Mustang bucked in pursuit. Destination: the farm. After that? Wherever fate led me on this critical mission to stop Heaven from murdering Mama.
And now for a sneak peek at Jolene’s next escapades!
Bein’ Dead
Ain’t No Excuse
by
Penny Burwell Ewing
The Haunted Salon Series
Chapter One
The List
Picking a fight with heaven isn’t for the faint of heart, or even for the strongest heart. It’s reserved for the stupid, like me. Only a pig-headed Southerner would lift her fist to the sky and issue a challenge to the Master of the Universe to a duel of wills. But that’s what I did when Mama’s name landed on Heaven’s list of arriving saints.
Scarlett Cantrell, that’s my gal pal from the Other Side, alerted me of Mama’s impending departure on the long, black train. Well, that doesn’t fit into my plans at all. I have two beaus fighting over me, Deena’s wedding is less than two weeks away, and Billie Jo’s expecting a baby in the spring. How can we Tucker gals get along without our mama? Well, we can’t. That’s why I’m speeding toward the farm—to prevent Heaven from playing target practice with Mama.
I arrived at the farm in a cloud of red dust, and bolted from the car for the back kitchen door in pursuit of my sainted parents. Bursting through the door, I found an empty kitchen much to my disappointment.
“Mama?” I called out. No response. “Daddy?” No answer from the empty house. Retracing my steps, I checked the garage for their cars. Check. They were here somewhere on the farm. Half out of my mind with worry, I sprinted for the barn and heard the murmur of angry voices as I drew near the opened doors.
“Now you listen to me, Annie Mae Tucker,” my father’s stern voice rose above the clucking chickens and shuffling hooves. “We’re selling the farm and moving to Florida.”
“And I say different.” Mama’s voice pitched high. “We’ve got a new grandbaby on the way. I’m
staying put.”
“And I’m selling the farm and moving to Florida, old woman.”
“Over my dead body, asshole. This is my home and you can’t sell it without my signature. What are you doing? Let go! Stop, Harland!”
With those angry words spilling out into the frosty morning, I scrambled through the opened doors to witness my parents tussling on the upper hayloft. I hesitated, my mind not quite processing the scene unfolding before me. Before I could open my mouth to protest, Mama let out a scream and pitched forward off the loft and landed with a soft thump on a hay pile below.
The scream on my lips burst out as I rushed to her side and bent over her still figure to brush the dried grass from her pale face. “Mama?” I patted her face. “Can you hear me?” From the loft above, I could hear Daddy’s frantic cries as he scrambled down the wooden ladder.
“Land sakes, Annie Mae!” he bellowed as he sank down beside me, his hands shaking as he lifted her limp hand. “You trying to kill yourself?”
At his words, I shot him an angry look. “You pushed her,” I accused. “I saw and heard the whole thing.”
Daddy blanched and pulled back in surprise, but before he could respond to my hurtful words, Mama moaned, and then opened her eyes. “I’m fine, just winded.” She smiled up at Daddy. “Harland, help me up.”
Together, we stood Mama on her feet. “Are you sure you’re okay?” I asked her as I plucked strands of hay from her short, graying blonde hair. “I’ll believe you should be checked out at the emergency room. That was a nasty fall.”
“Nonsense,” she huffed. “Just a minor accident.” With shaking hands, she brushed hay from her worn jeans. “I slipped and fell, that’s all.”
“Minor accident? I closed my eyes and blew out a breath. “Pushed is more like it.”
Daddy made a noticeable sigh. “Now, Jolene, don’t be silly. I didn’t push your mama. I grabbed her when she slipped. I tried to prevent her fall.”
A Dead Pig in the Sunshine Page 26
