Heard it Through the Grapevine

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by Lizbeth Lipperman




  Copyright Information

  Heard it Through the Grapevine © 2013 Lizbeth Lipperman

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any matter whatsoever, including Internet usage, without written permission from Midnight Ink, except in the form of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  As the purchaser of this ebook, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this ebook on screen. The text may not be otherwise reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, or recorded on any other storage device in any form or by any means.

  Any unauthorized usage of the text without express written permission of the publisher is a violation of the author’s copyright and is illegal and punishable by law.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  First e-book edition © 2013

  E-book ISBN: 978-0-7387-3784-3

  Book design by Donna Burch

  Cover illustration: Linda Holt-Ayriss/Susan and Co.

  Cover design by Adrienne Zimiga

  Midnight Ink is an imprint of Llewellyn Worldwide Ltd.

  Midnight Ink does not participate in, endorse, or have any authority or responsibility concerning private business arrangements between our authors and the public.

  Any Internet references contained in this work are current at publication time, but the publisher cannot guarantee that a specific reference will continue or be maintained. Please refer to the publisher’s website for links to current author websites.

  Midnight Ink

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  Manufactured in the United States of America

  DEDICATION

  This one goes out to Theresa Pollack, my sister who left us way too soon. Although my ghost Tessa is absolutely nothing like my middle sister, this was my way of letting her know how much I miss her.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I would be remiss if I didn’t mention my other sisters who were the inspiration for this story. We grew up best friends and still are. Take a bow Mary Ann Nedved, Dorothy Bennett, and Lillian Magistro. I love you all so much.

  And to my agent extraordinaire, Christine Witthohn, I can only say thank you for your untiring efforts to see this book in print. I could never walk this journey without you.

  To Terri Bischoff, my amazing editor, I knew from the first moment I spoke to you in Chicago at the bar that you and I would work well together. Thanks for being so enthusiastic about me and my story. And I have to give kudos to the wonderful people at Midnight Ink who worked behind the scene to make this book a reality. Donna Burch, who did an awesome job designing the book; Adrienne Zimiga who designed the fantastic cover; and Connie Hill who made this book so much better with her editing.

  To the Bunko Babes, Tami, Judy, Linda, Marilyn, Nancy, Barbara, Jane, Anna, and Vaneesa—thanks for all the good lines in this book. Keep them coming for book two.

  To John Alexander, owner of Colibri Ridge Winery and Vineyard for showing me how a winery is run and for introducing me to Viognier.

  And lastly, to Dan and my wonderful kids, Nicole, Dennis, Abby, and Brody. Thanks for my adorable grandchildren, Grayson, Caden, Ellie, and Alice and for giving me a reason to smile every day. I love you.

  PROLOGUE

  Vineyard, Texas

  THE FIRST WAVE OF light-headedness hit like an out-of-control hangover when she leaned forward to put the half-empty glass on the coffee table.

  How much wine had she drunk?

  Then she smelled it. Struggling to get up, her knees buckled, and she slid to the floor, inhaling the acrid odor that grew stronger with each labored breath.

  Trying not to panic, she turned to the front door, but everything was a blur. She had to get out of the house, get some fresh air to clear her head.

  She clawed at the carpet, not caring about the forty-dollar nail job from that afternoon.

  Damn it! Why can’t I catch my breath?

  Her eyes caught a flicker of movement at the patio window, but she was too woozy to focus.

  Help! She mouthed the words, but her breathing was so rapid, no sound came out. She glanced at the window again. No one was there. Had she imagined it?

  Now gasping for air, she dug her nails deeper into the rug and pulled her body inch by agonizing inch across the living room. Panic set in seconds before she heard the light on the end table click on, followed by a thunderous explosion that tossed her like a rag doll into the black of the night.

  ONE

  Savannah, Georgia

  “YOU’RE A SKEPTIC, MISS Garcia?”

  Lainey Garcia closed her mouth before she said something she’d regret. She’d prided herself on staying neutral no matter who she interviewed. Even when it involved something as ridiculous as Extrasensory Perception.

  “I’m trying not to be, Clarisa. You say you see the future, talk to spirits. Personally, I’ve always believed in scientific evidence. There’s no way to prove you didn’t have prior knowledge of your earlier predictions that came true.” She bit back a sarcastic smile. “Nor have your spirit friends verified any of your information.”

  Lainey glanced at her producer and rolled her eyes. She had fought Dan tooth and nail when he’d informed her Clarisa Hogan, self-proclaimed psychic and “spirit whisperer,” as the media called her, was appearing on the show. But nothing swayed Dan, not even when she’d turned up the heat under the sheets.

  Clarisa had been the talk of Savannah for the past three weeks after leading police investigators to the shallow grave of an eight-year-old child who had been abducted and murdered. Getting her on the show was a major coup since she rarely gave interviews.

  “Can you prove I had prior knowledge?” Clarisa’s eyes flashed in anger, then softened. “I understand your doubts, Lainey, I really do, but even I can’t explain it. I just know when a strong feeling hits me.”

  Strong feeling, my ass! Lainey stole another glance toward Dan.

  Suddenly, Clarisa took a sharp breath and fell back in the chair, her eyelids fluttering. The 250 surprised people in the audience sat up and watched.

  An eerie silence engulfed the studio when the psychic hummed in a yoga-like monotone. As quickly as Clarisa fell into the trance, she came out of it. She turned to Lainey, her eyes first questioning, then concerned. “Someone is trying to reach you.”

  The collective gasp of the audience echoed through the room.

  “Hopefully, to give me the winning numbers of tonight’s Powerball,” Lainey joked, ignoring Clarisa’s pointed remark. This voodoo stuff freaked her out, even when it was so obviously staged for effect. The woman was a charlatan who preyed on people’s emotions, and it annoyed the hell out of Lainey that she had been chosen as bait.

  It was criminal the way this woman scammed a fee out of grieving human beings. The same way the guaranteed-to-speak-to-your-loved-one phony had bilked her own mother out of most of her father’s life insurance.

  The psychic attempted a smile. “There’s that skepticism again.”

  The audience was on the edge of their seats, some even holding their breath waiting for Lainey’s response. This made for great television and even better reviews. Dan wanted her to milk it for all it was worth.

  “If you can tell me who wants to talk to me and what they want, I might be more inclined to believe you.” Yeah, right!

  Clarisa shook her he
ad, the smile gone. “I don’t know. But whoever it is wants to tell you something important.”

  “I’m sure,” Lainey said, more sarcastically than she intended. She felt Dan’s disapproving glare.

  The flashing lights on the overhead board reminded her to wrap it up. She faced the camera, turning on the charm with a practiced ease. “Unfortunately, we’re out of time. I would have loved to continue this conversation with Clarisa Hogan, renowned psychic and author of Talk Dead to Me.”

  Lainey held up the book. “Clarisa will be signing copies of her new book at Franklin’s Book Store in downtown Savannah today from one to four. Go out and say hello. In the meantime, from all of us at Good Morning, Savannah, I’m Lainey Garcia. Join us tomorrow with Joe Wellington and all his friends from the Savannah Zoo. And you won’t want to miss Friday’s show when our special guest will be the ever-popular Paula DeMarco, queen of Southern cuisine.”

  When Dan yelled, Cut, Lainey’s smile faded. “Thank you, Ms. Hogan. Good luck with your book sales.”

  The psychic stared at Lainey for a full minute before speaking. “There’s usually a good reason when a spirit reaches out.”

  “I’m sure there is.” Lainey turned toward her dressing room, freezing in place when the studio went dark.

  Seconds later, the lights flickered on again.

  Lainey scanned the room and found Dan next to Clarisa, his eyebrows raised in question. What in the hell was that? she mouthed.

  As Dan shrugged, Clarisa glanced up and met Lainey’s eyes, rubbing her forehead with fingers tipped with fire-engine red polish. The hint of concern on the psychic’s face was unmistakable.

  Finally behind closed doors in her dressing room, Lainey shivered. She’d never liked scary movies, hated it when Dan watched reruns of the Twilight Zone, the “do-do-do-do” ditty playing in the background. It gave her the creeps.

  She shook her head to clear the image. Why get so uptight about this? Clarisa Hogan was an imposter. You could predict anything about anybody, and sooner or later, part of it would come true. She knew that. Dan knew that, and it was a given, Clarisa knew it, too.

  The lights went out, for godsakes! Happens all the time when it rains.

  Lainey glanced out the window of the cramped dressing room. They were in the middle of a Savannah early spring heat wave. A little rain would be a welcome event.

  I am not buying into this crap.

  She blew out a breath, sat down in front of the mirror, reaching

  for the cold cream to remove her makeup. The psychic and the black-out were still on her mind when the door flew open and banged against the wall. She jumped, sending the jar clattering to the dressing table.

  Dan stormed in and slammed the door behind him. “What were you doing out there, Lainey?”

  “You didn’t think that was bullshit?”

  He moved closer. “That’s not the point. It was obvious you were mocking her. You’ve never done that before, not to anyone during an interview.” He paused. “Hell, you didn’t even do it to that idiot who claimed he saw aliens in his back yard.”

  Lainey sighed. “Okay already. I’ll send her an apology and something from Flower Boutique.”

  “That would be the smart thing to do if you expect to get other controversial guests to come on the show.” He moved up behind her and massaged her shoulders. “Is everything okay?”

  “Why wouldn’t it be?” She leaned her head to the right so he could reach the burning spot in her neck, moaning softly when he did.

  “I don’t know. You tell me. For the past few weeks, you’ve been acting weird. Even the crew has noticed.”

  She whirled around and glared. “You’re talking to the crew about me?”

  Dan’s fingers dropped and he met her stare, the concern evident in his eyes. “Relax. Larry mentioned you seemed preoccupied, that’s all.” He put his hands back on her shoulders and kneaded, moving slowly down to her breasts.

  “Oh, yeah, your hands all over my boobs are just what I want the crew talking about after they’re done analyzing my moods.” She pulled away and turned back to face the mirror, grabbing a tissue to scrub off the cold cream.

  She knew that sounded snippy. Dan didn’t deserve her sarcasm. Sooner or later she would have to tell him her feelings had changed. That she felt more alone with him than when she was by herself.

  And she still hadn’t told him about Florida.

  “I have been a little tired,” she said. “Maybe it’s time I took that vacation you’re always harping about.”

  Dan’s face brightened. “You’re finally talking sense. We could fly to New York. Stay in that hotel across from Central Park and live on room service and—”

  “Dan,” she whispered.

  He grinned, ignoring the interruption. “Maybe this time we can see more of the city than the inside of our hotel room.”

  Lainey lowered her eyes. “New York’s too cold right now. I was thinking more along the lines of Florida.”

  He looked confused. “Florida? I thought you said your mother and stepdad were in Colorado visiting friends?”

  It was now or never. She plunged ahead. “Walk with me to my office. There’s something I need to tell you.” She stood up and grabbed his arm. This would be harder than she thought.

  When the door to her office closed behind them, she pointed to the chair across from her desk. “Sit. You’re not going to like this.”

  Dan lowered his body into the chair, his eyes questioning. “I knew something was bothering you. Even in bed, you’ve been distracted.”

  Lainey let the comment slide and walked behind her desk. Instead of sitting, she moved to the window and looked out at the city. Downtown Savannah was beautiful, still small enough to be quaint. She’d miss it.

  “Lainey?”

  She turned back to Dan and smiled, pacing to collect her thoughts. She had to do this. She’d put it off too long already. “You know as much as I love the show, as much as I love working with you …” She paused and exhaled slowly. There was no way to say it except straight out. She met his gaze. “Henry got a call from the CBS News affiliate in Tampa. They’re looking at me for their six o’clock anchor slot.”

  There was silence while Dan chewed his lower lip. In the two years she’d been intimate with him, she’d come to recognize this as his way of gaining control before he spoke.

  “When did your agent get the call?”

  She sat down at her desk. “Two weeks ago.”

  Surprise, then anger flashed in his eyes. “Jesus, Lainey! When were you going to tell me?”

  “I was waiting for the right moment.”

  “And all those nights I was at your house? In your bed? Not the right moment?”

  She lifted her chin, meeting his anger head on. “It’s a decision I had to make on my own. I needed time to think it through. It’s not like we’re married or anything.”

  His face registered the hurt. “For the record, it’s not because I haven’t asked. You always manage to hedge. Maybe I should have listened to what you weren’t saying.”

  “I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you sooner.” She walked around the desk and stood in front of him.

  How could she explain the emptiness she felt without making him feel guilty? Dan Maguire was an extraordinary man. She’d be damn lucky to have him at her side for the rest of her life. But something was missing. She couldn’t explain it, but she knew they would both be miserable in the end because of what she didn’t feel.

  “When are you leaving?”

  The sadness in his voice squeezed her heart. “The interview is this Friday. Henry and I are going down on Thursday after the show. I’m scheduled to interview all day, then we’re booked on the seven o’clock home.” She paused when the cell phone vibrated in her pocket. Pulling it out, she glanced at caller ID.

  “Sorry. I have to take this.” She flipped the receiver, grateful for the interruption. “Hey, Maddy. What’s up?”

  “Tessa’s dead.” Maddy
’s voice cracked, and she began to cry. “Oh, Lainey! Tessa’s really dead.”

  “Ohmygod! How?” Lainey backed into the desk for support.

  Dark brows furrowed, Dan leaned closer.

  When Maddy’s sobs slowed, she continued. “There was an explosion at her house last night. A gas leak or something. They found her body in the front yard and called me after midnight with the news. I waited until this morning to call you.” Maddy’s voice broke. “They’re doing an autopsy and should be finished sometime today. The viewing is from six to eight tomorrow night, and the funeral is Friday.”

  Lainey swallowed the lump in her throat. “You know I can’t come, Maddy.”

  “Your sister’s dead, Lainey. You can and you will.”

  Lainey sighed, running her fingers through her hair. Madelyn rarely played the older sister card, but when she did, there was no use arguing. “I’ll call with the flight information,” she said, resigned.

  “Do you want someone to pick you up at DFW?”

  “No,” Lainey answered quickly. “It’s easier to rent a car.” Safer, she should have said. She could split whenever she wanted. Whenever she had to. “I’ll call later.”

  A rush of emotions pulsed through Lainey’s body as she held the receiver long after Madelyn had disconnected. She kept her back to Dan, unwilling to let him see the tears flowing unchecked down her cheeks.

  Her sister was dead. Why did she suddenly feel as if someone had plunged a knife into her heart? When she left Texas years ago, she’d vowed never to return. As far as she was concerned, Tessa had been dead since then.

  She felt Dan’s hand on her shoulder, unaware he had gotten up and now stood beside her.

  “What’s the matter, honey?” His voice was soft, worried, the anger gone.

  Lainey took a deep breath and swiped at the tears, hoping he wouldn’t notice.

  He touched her cheek and turned her to face him. “In the four years I’ve known you, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you cry. What is it?”

  She bit her lip, shaking her head. How could she explain her broken relationship with Tessa? He didn’t even know she existed. She’d told him she only had three sisters.

 

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