Mama vetoed the suggestion. “Sam gave me strict instructions to stay out of the salon. He promised to do everything in his power to have us back in business on Tuesday. Besides, there isn’t time. We need to get over to the hospital.”
“We need to be sure the electric appliances have been turned off and unplugged for the weekend,” Deena cautioned. “They are the first thing the stylists turn on in the morning after they arrive. Those flat irons can start an electrical fire if they short out. It won’t take but a second to double check. The last thing we need on top of everything else is a fire.”
“Deena’s right, we need to inspect the salon,” I added to the argument. “If we don’t, I won’t be able to sleep a wink for worrying.”
Mama started to protest, but Billie Jo cut in, wiping perspiration from her upper lip. “Let’s get on with it. It’s hot as Hades out here, and I’m thirsty. There’s a pitcher of sweet tea in the refrigerator.”
“Oh, all right,” Mama finally conceded. “But hurry up. You have five minutes to do your inspection.”
Deena dug keys out of her purse, unlocked the door, and led the way inside. Eerie silence greeted us as the outside sounds of cars speeding by and shoppers chatting ceased when the front door closed behind us.
Mama glanced at her watch. “Make it quick.”
From where I stood in the reception area everything appeared normal, other than the polished hardwood floors needing to be swept from all the extra traffic and the hand-smudged mirrors in the make-up section needing cleaning. The retail shelves stocked with all the best-selling, name brand hair products were all in order. Nothing seemed amiss. At the reception desk, the computer had been left on, so I turned it off as Billie Jo headed in the direction of her barber station, saying she would inspect all the workstations. Deena headed into her office, and Mama shuffled off in the direction of the kitchen.
The facial room pulled at me like a magnet. Where did the human life energy go after departing this life? Could Heaven and Hell truly be our last destination, or could we linger here trapped in the last peaceful or hellish moments of our life? Thoughts like these had troubled me since Daddy died. For years afterward, I’d studied books on the afterlife, religious teachings from various faiths, the great philosophers, the occult, and even the ancient alien theorists, always trying in vain to contact him.
This morning’s strange incident at the cemetery resurfaced. I removed the yellow crime-scene tape, the door vibrating under my hands. Call it déjà vu or precognition, but I suddenly knew something monumental waited on the other side. Slowly, I turned the knob. The hairs on my nape prickled as a voice whispered in my ear, “You can’t go in there.”
I snatched my hand from the door knob. “Crap, Deena, you scared the hell outta me. Must you sneak around?”
“I never sneak. You simply weren’t listening.”
The kitchen door swung open. Mama stood in the doorway. “What’s going on out here? Stop horsing around. Go find Billie Jo. I’m ready to leave.”
“Jolene’s going in there.” Deena jerked her thumb toward the closed facial room door.
Billie Jo rounded the corner. “What’s all the commotion?”
“Jolene’s going in there,” Deena repeated.
“No, she’s not,” Mama said. “The police will accuse us of tampering with evidence. We’ll go in when Sam gives the okay.”
“We can’t leave before making sure that multi-function Skin Care Station is properly shut off,” I said. “It cost over fifteen hundred dollars.”
“No one’s going in there,” Mama huffed. “Got it?”
Billie Jo reached out and tested the knob. “It’s locked anyway.”
“That’s strange. It wasn’t a moment ago,” I said, twisting the knob to find it locked. “Go get the key, Deena.”
“We lost the key years ago.”
“Wait,” I said, excitedly. “I’ll get a butter knife from the kitchen.” I turned to leave, but Mama grabbed me by the arm, causing me to stumble against the door. With a thump, it flew open, propelling me into the room. As I stumbled for balance, something white fluttered in the semi-darkness. Regaining my balance, I quickly flipped on the overhead lights before Mama could protest.
“Ahhh!” I said with vexation, my eyes taking in the discarded jars lining the counter top. A dusting of fine powder covered the floor. “This room’s a mess. It’ll take hours to clean.”
“They must’ve taken a sample of everything.” Deena piped up behind me. “What’s on the floor?”
Billie Jo bent down and ran her finger over the floor, leaving a thin trail. “It looks like oatmeal. Carla said she mixed everything she could get her hands on into that death mask.”
Mama stuck her head in the door. “Don’t touch anything and get out of there right now. We need to get over to the hospital. Jolene, if you don’t come out of there this instant, I promise you that when the roll is called up yonder, you’ll be there!”
Deena backed out of the room. “She’s right; the hospital is expecting me.”
“I’m ready to leave, too,” Billie Jo said, joining Mama and Deena in the hallway.
There wasn’t any need to try and argue my point with them—my vote would be vetoed immediately. The facial equipment was unplugged, so I turned off the lights and shut the door. A loud crash sounded from inside the room. Quickly, I flung open the door, flipped on the overhead lights, and screamed with every ounce of my being—for there, on the facial bed, sat the faint, ghostly image of Scarlett Cantrell.
Chapter Five
Earthbound
“Scarlett?” I yelled out, all at once frightened and excited. The moment I’d been hoping for since my father’s death had suddenly presented itself. But instead of Daddy’s ghostly image, Scarlett smiled back at me, red slippers swinging happily over the side of the bed, hands posed serenely in a lap of white cotton organdy.
Okay. This was really getting weird. First, Granny Tucker’s voice in the cemetery, and now I was seeing ghosts. Not altogether sure I wasn’t hallucinating from tremendous strain, I checked my pulse to rule out the possibly of an anxiety attack. Blinking several times didn’t make Scarlett go away, so I concluded that, yes, I’d either had a nervous meltdown or I had finally broken through to the Other Side.
“What’s going on in there?” Mama hollered from the doorway.
Scarlett brought her fingers to her lips. “Shhh, they can’t see or hear me—only you.”
“Why am I the only one who can see you?” I whispered.
She pointed heavenward. “I don’t know. I’ll ask next time I go up there.”
I turned to my mother and sisters. “You don’t see her? Hear her?”
“Who?” they asked in unison.
“Scarlett! She’s sitting on the facial bed talking to me.”
“Stop joking and come out of there,” Mama ordered.
“I’m not joking.”
Deena groaned. “Jolene’s lost her mind.”
“No, she had imaginary friends as a child,” Mama said. “Perhaps the stress brought on a relapse. Jolene, honey, you come on out of there, and we’ll take you home. Rest will get rid of those invisible people.”
Well, that explained a lot. I grinned at the impact of her words. At least I wasn’t crazy, which was a relief.
“Or a shot of tequila,” Billie Jo added.
“Hush,” Mama admonished. “Your sister is just traumatized by that poor woman’s death. I told y’all this was a bad idea.”
I turned at the sound of rustling petticoats as Scarlett climbed off the bed, smoothing down yards of ruffles and lace.
“Do you recognize the gown I’m wearing? It’s the prayer dress Vivien Leigh wore in the opening porch scene in the movie.” She spun around, smiling gleefully at her flying skirts. “I always wanted to be like her. Can you believe she loaned it to me? We’re neighbors on the Other Side, you know. In the south side of heaven,” she twittered. “Hey, I think I’ll modernize the dress. Yo
u know, raise the hem, and lose the petticoats. Add a few tucks here and there. And new red heels would be perfect, don’t you agree?”
“Deena’s right. I’m losing my mind,” I said out loud. Heaven is not where I expected her to end up. “This is definitely not the Scarlett Cantrell I knew and despised. Why don’t you be gone with the wind of my imagination?”
Scarlett lost her smile. “Just pretend I’m one of your imaginary friends. Things are different over here, and I’m new at this, so don’t push me, or I’ll make your life miserable. And I ain’t gonna be gone with the wind as you so put it, missy, so you’d better watch it.”
I shivered as a shaft of icy air goosed me, and I made the sign of the cross over my heart for protection. Not being Catholic, I wasn’t sure it would help, but the unholy expression on Scarlett’s face left me with few options, and I wasn’t taking any chances with the ghost of a dead client.
“Jolene, get out of there right this instant, or I’ll come in and get you myself.”
Still dazed, I jumped back from the facial bed at Mama’s angry voice and stumbled toward the door, my gaze glued to Scarlett, who continued to scowl at me.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Her tone deepened with anger. “Help me find justice, or I’m earthbound.”
“Did you say earthbound?” My head started to throb. Oh, great, now I had a headache coming on.
“Yes, and you’re the one I’m stuck with.”
Her words died away as I ducked out the door, closing it softly behind me to face my anxious family. Mama grabbed me by the arm.
“I don’t want you to worry about what you think you saw, Jolene. Let’s get over to the hospital. While we’re checking on Carla, it wouldn’t hurt for a doctor to take a look at you. Sometimes there’s a delayed reaction to trauma.” She hauled me out of the salon and placed me in the front passenger seat of her SUV.
I spent the entire ten minutes as we drove to the hospital convincing Mama and my sisters that I didn’t require medical attention. Only a passing anxiety attack, I assured them, was to blame for my neurotic behavior. They finally seemed to accept my explanation and left me alone with my swirling thoughts. And I mean swirling. I felt like a hen with a rooster hot on my tail. I clung to my shaky composure, hoping that nothing of what I felt, thought, showed in my expression. Unfortunately, I wear my heart on my sleeve.
My watch read four when we stopped at the information desk and asked for Carla’s room number.
“Mrs. Moody is in room two-eleven,” the courteous young woman said, directing us to a nearby elevator.
The corridor teemed with hospital staff and visitors, and when the elevator doors opened, we scooted in together. I’m sure doubt still lingered concerning my state of mind, and I could just bet that, at this moment, Mama and my two loving siblings were watching for the slightest hint of a relapse from me. I stepped confidently off the elevator when we reached the second floor.
Muffled voices resonated behind Carla’s closed door as we approached.
“Probably the doctor,” Billie Jo said.
Deena paused before entering the room. “Or the admitting clerk wanting her insurance information.”
A passing nurse stopped in front of our group. “May I help you?”
“We’re waiting to see Carla Moody,” I said. “We didn’t want to barge in if the doctor is with her, but we brought the health insurance information the admitting office needs.”
“Her visitor is a police detective.”
“Perhaps we should visit with her later,” Mama suggested.
Deena backed away from the door. “Can you tell us how she’s doing before we leave?”
The nurse opened the door. “I just gave her a mild sedative, but you can go on in. Her family should be with her while that detective is interrogating her.”
“We’re not her family.”
Mama shot Billie Jo a heated look. “We’re the closest thing to family that child has until her husband and mother can be reached.”
The nurse eyed us closely. “Five minutes.” She preceded us into the room. “Mrs. Moody, you have more visitors.” She reached over to smooth the covers down before turning her attention to the man beside the patient’s bed. “Your time’s up, sir.”
The notebook snapped shut as the man turned around. Detective Grant. Carla’s teary face spoke volumes.
“You have no right to question her without her doctor or attorney present,” I said hotly. “She’s had a terrible shock and doesn’t realize what she’s saying.” Those watery brown eyes raked over me.
“Miz Moody is aware of her rights,” he said in a tone of voice one might use to reprimand a disobedient child. “I’m here in an official capacity. Stand down or I’ll arrest you for interfering in a police investigation.”
Rebellion runs deep in my blood. My family can be traced back to a long line of Confederate fighters—male and female. Nothing garners my defiance more than a man trying to intimidate a woman. Apparently, this bulldog of a man disliked me. The feeling was mutual but I couldn’t afford to further antagonize him. No, better to bide my time and wait for another opportunity to put the detective in his place. Taking a deep breath, I said, “Sorry. I overreact in times of stress.”
Mumbled agreements sounded behind me. Mama walked over to the bed and picked up Carla’s hand, rubbing it briskly to restore warmth.
“Pay no attention to all this fuss, honey. Everything’s gonna be all right. I’ve called and left several messages on your mom’s home and cell phone. Deena hasn’t been able to reach your husband at home, and we don’t have his cell number.”
Carla turned drugged eyes to Mama. “Frank and I are having marital problems. He and the kids are in Florida for a couple of days.”
Hmm. That explained a lot—the weird phone calls, her inattention to her job, the weight loss, her weepy appearance, and her inability to think on her feet. Carla’s domestic problems had turned into the perfect storm and resulted in Scarlett’s messed-up face and premature death.
Quietly, the nurse slipped past the bed, gestured to Detective Grant, and together they left the room.
Gathering around in a show of support, we each in turn picked up a weak, limp hand, encouraging Carla to remain calm. As her thin, icy fingers closed over mine, I stared down at her pale, strained face, assuring her we would be there for her in her time of trouble.
Her dazed eyes focused over my shoulder. “Scarlett. Oh my God.” She began to shake uncontrollably. “I didn’t mean to kill her!”
“Hush now, honey. Everything’s gonna be okay,” Mama said, and with a wave of her hand pushed me out of the way to sit on the bed.
“God, help me,” Carla cried. “I killed her!”
At her wild, terror-filled words, my nape hairs rose, and I got goose bumps.
Deena’s gaze met mine across the bed. “I’d better go get a nurse.”
“I told you we shouldn’t have hired her,” Billie Jo said, staunchly moving toward the door. “You stay here; I’ll get the nurse. I need a breather.”
A ghostly breath brushed my neck, alerting me to Scarlett’s unwelcome presence. Anxious to get away from prying eyes and talk with my ghostly tag-a-long, I said, “No, Billie Jo, I’ll go. Deena, give me the insurance card, and I’ll take it down to admitting after alerting the nurses to the problem in here.”
Deena fished the card out of her wallet and handed it to me. Without waiting for further comments from the others, I darted into the hall. Three nurses congregated around a massive desk down the corridor, and I explained the situation. Two nurses rushed to Carla’s room while the other paged the doctor. Using the distraction to slip away, I stepped into an empty room, closed the door, and turned to face the ghostly pest who had trailed after me.
“Please tell me that I’m hallucinating,” I said.
“Just think of me as one of your imaginary friends.”
I frowned at her snarky tone. “Okay, you’ve got my attention. Start explai
ning what you’re doing here and why you scared the bejesus out of me in the facial room. I don’t like being threatened—by the living or the dead.”
Scarlett struck a haughty pose in a form-fitting, above the knee, green flowered muslin dress. “This is the afternoon gown Vivien wore in the barbecue scene at Twelve Oaks. Of course, I put my own modern touch on it.”
I reached for her arm but encountered only empty space. “Yes, I can see your hatchet work. Now, tell me why you’re still here. Don’t you see the light? You know, the one that you’re supposed to cross, or whatever it is you’re supposed to do when you bite the dust?”
Her perfect eyebrows pulled together in an affronted frown. “I see you’ve forgotten my warning. And FYI, I do see the light.” She adjusted the wide-brimmed straw hat with green ribbons tied under her chin. “Vivian wasn’t wearing it to the Chancellor’s Ball, so she said I could borrow the dress. You should see the size of her closet.”
“Never mind Vivian’s closet. Why don’t you stay over there with all the other hellions?”
“I told you, I’m earthbound.”
“Then how’d you get the dress?”
“I have a travel visa.”
“What on earth is a travel visa?”
“Not on earth. The Other Side. A travel visa allows me to pass between dimensions until my celestial trial is over. Which begins in two weeks, so I don’t have much time to investigate my death.”
Now I really was confused. “Celestial trial? This is the first I’m hearing of a celestial trial. And you’re not earthbound, so scoot.”
“I told you about the trial. Earlier, in the facial room.”
I shook my head. “Ah, I don’t think so. I believe I would remember you mentioning something so crazy.”
“I need information. Fast.”
I sighed. “It seems to me that the powers that be would have the information you’re seeking. They have a bullseye view of everything happening down here on this blue rock, so they would know all about it.”
Dixieland Dead Page 5
