“I didn’t. This is Scarlett’s office.”
“It’s mine now. The name plate is being replaced today.” She gave me a suspicious look. “What are you here for if you’re not looking for me?”
“I stumbled upon it while looking for the ladies’ room and I was curious.”
Tammy scowled at me from across the desk. “Curious? Why?”
“Scarlett was a local celebrity. Now you’re in the same position and people will be curious about you. Including how your office is decorated.”
My answer seemed to please her. “Did you find what you were looking for?”
“Excuse me?” I shot back. Her eyebrows raised a fraction at my tense tone, but I couldn’t help it. I wanted to bolt out of the office and away from her probing eyes.
“Is your curiosity satisfied now that you’ve seen her office?”
“Oh, yes,” I said, relieved she hadn’t discovered my crime. “But I have to confess I’d pictured it differently.”
“I must admit that I did too. It’s small and simply furnished. From everything I’ve read and seen of Scarlett, she wasn’t into simplicity.”
“That she isn’t,” I said, picturing her in her latest modified creation from Vivian Leigh’s heavenly closet. To me, Scarlett wasn’t dead, just in another form, but very much alive.
A knock sounded at the door and Robert Burns stuck his head in, cutting short any further discussion. “I was hoping you’d be here, Tammy.” He addressed the young woman, not seeing me. “I need to speak to you about a matter.”
She indicated my presence. “Jolene and I were just getting acquainted.”
Stepping into the room, he glared at me. “So this is where you got off to. We’ve been looking for you.”
I apologized as my two sisters, stepped in behind him, gazing at me with questions in their eyes.
He introduced Tammy and then launched into a spiel, aimed at us, about not having decided which salon he’d chosen yet, but saying we would be considered with the others.
Tammy spoke out. “Do I have a say in this?”
“Of course you do, my dear,” he said.
“Then I choose Jolene.”
No one was more surprised by this announcement than me. The last thing in the world I wanted, or needed, was another demanding celebrity breathing down my neck—dead or alive.
****
“I don’t know how you did it, Jolene, and I’m not going to ask. I’ve got to hurry,” Deena said when we reached the parking lot. “If I don’t get home and changed, I’m going to be late for my date. You can give us the details tomorrow. Come on, Billie Jo. I’ll drop you off at your car on my way home.”
I stood in the parking lot beside my car and watched my sisters leave. Deena was in a hurry. Not that I blamed her. I’d be, too, if I had a date with the sexy detective. Besides, the last thing I wanted was to explain to them how I’d landed a job I didn’t want. Somehow, I’d find a way to steer Tammy to one of the other stylists. Right now, I was anxious to get home and examine the stolen flash drive.
The distant rumble of thunder sounded in the darkening twilight. Hopefully, we were going to finally get some much-needed rain before the night was out. I glanced down at my watch—6:50. My stomach grumbled again in protest of a late supper. Thankfully, traffic was light, and I pulled up into my driveway fifteen minutes later.
Tango’s angry meow greeted me, so I fed him and then took last night’s leftovers out of the refrigerator and placed them into the oven to warm. From my purse, I dug out the thumb-drive and headed to my small office. I kicked off my shoes and turned on the desk lamp to closely examine the object I held in my hand.
I booted up the computer and inserted the drive. Immediately, a message flashed on the screen saying it couldn’t open the main file because it was encrypted and needed special software and a password. Uncertain how to proceed, I secured it away in one of the desk drawers, determined to find a way to access the files before turning it over to the police. Although, I’d promised Bradford not to meddle in the investigation, I reasoned that it wouldn’t hurt to hold onto the flash drive for a day or two at the most. If I hadn’t found a way to read it by then, I’d hand it over.
Now, I needed to get in touch with my troublemaking cosmic underling since I’d found the elusive jade elephant, which had produced even a greater mystery, in the form of the cryptic thumb-drive. Scarlett had questions to answer. Wasting no time, I sent SOS messages heavenward, but she, apparently, wasn’t in tune with my psychic vibrations this evening. After thirty minutes, I gave up. The questions would have to wait, and I headed for a long, cool bath, and another coating of calamine.
With my itching back or buttocks under control, I settled in front of the TV and enjoyed my supper while watching reruns of The Walking Dead, which turned out to be a mistake as it brought Scarlett back to mind. She’d popped in on me earlier today while I was in the restroom at work to tell me that she’d had no luck tracking down Daddy. That bummed me out, but apparently, she said, he wasn’t a resident of the Golden City, and therefore must be roasting in the devil’s domain. My grandparents were there, and yes, Granny Tucker had taken a brief trip to Peaceful Valley Cemetery last Saturday. The meaning of her message would come clear with time, she had promised.
Restless with my thoughts, I turned off the TV and started a pot of coffee. Taking the morning newspaper I hadn’t had a chance to read, I sat down at the kitchen table to wait for the coffee to finish dripping when the front doorbell rang.
I opened the door to see Mama standing on the porch, her face pale, but proud. “What are you doing here at this time of night?”
“It’s time for that talk about your daddy.” She stepped into the foyer, and I closed the door behind her. A sudden nervousness descended upon me at this unusual visit. Mama rarely left the farm after sunset because she detested driving in the dark, and by the break in her usual routine, I knew this was going to be serious chat.
“I made a pot of coffee,” I said, and started for the kitchen. “Should I call Deena and Billie Jo to join us?”
“No, it’s best I tell you first,” she said somberly. “You’re the oldest, and your sisters will take it better if you’ve got your emotions under control when they learn the truth. And you’re gonna need a little time to digest the truth as well.”
Okay. This wasn’t going to be good. I clamped down on my bottom lip to keep from blurting out the burning questions blazing through my mind.
We entered the kitchen, and Mama took a seat at the table while I took two mugs from the cabinet. Tango jumped down from his perch on the refrigerator and wound himself around Mama’s ankles, purring his welcome. Tango loved Mama. She showered him with attention each time she visited. Tonight, she ignored him.
I made quick work of putting the cream and sugar on the table. I poured coffee into the mugs and set one in front of her. Thus far, the only sound between us was Tango’s purring and the soft chimes of the grandfather clock in the den as it struck ten.
With the hot coffee mug nestled in my hands, I waited anxiously for her to begin. Finally, she looked up from her cup, uncertainty etched on her face. “This is going to be hard, so please don’t interrupt until I’m finished. Can you do that?”
I had a sinking feeling, but I nodded, and tightened my fingers around the mug.
She took a few sips from her cup. “It started the year we lost the entire peanut crop to white mold. The loss was heavy, and we were on the verge of losing the farm. Your father was frantic with worry. When the bank refused our loan application, he turned to a loan shark—a Mr. Blackstone. Everything went downhill from there. We struggled to make the payments. The first time Harland failed to come up with the money, Mr. Blackstone’s hired goons worked him over.”
I gasped. “I remember Daddy’s shattered face. He said he fell off the peanut combine trying to fix something or another.”
“Things got worse. As hard as we tried, we just couldn’t keep up the pa
yments and the expenses of the farm and household. Harland didn’t want me to, but I went back to work teaching school. For a time, it helped, but we fell behind again, and that’s when Mr. Blackstone threatened to kill you girls off one at a time, starting with Billie Jo, until the loan was paid in full.”
Shock stole my voice. I sat in numb silence as she continued, “I thought Harland was going to drop dead of a heart attack that night when he got home and told me what the man had said. We’d burned through our savings long ago, so we decided to sell the farm to pay off the loan shark, and hopefully have enough left to start over. But that too fell through. Farms weren’t selling fast at the time, and Mr. Blackstone got impatient for his money.”
I took a quick breath of utter astonishment. “Are you saying that Daddy didn’t die in that bank robbery? He was murdered by this loan shark?”
Mama bent her head and studied her clasped hands. “No, that’s not what I’m saying.” She looked up, her eyes green pools of appeal. “Jolene, your father is alive.”
Chapter Seventeen
Back From the Dead? Again!
A feeling of helpless confusion swept over me at Mama’s confession. I flushed hot with anger, then felt pain at the lies, and finally joy as the implications of those five spoken words slammed into me.
Daddy is alive!
I expelled a pent-up breath. “How could he be alive? He’s buried in the Peaceful Valley Cemetery. I saw his casket lowered into the ground twenty-five years ago.”
Mama got up from the table and went over to the coffeepot. “All that’s true, Jolene.” She poured another cup of coffee and sat back down at the kitchen table. “Everyone, but a select few, believes that Harland Tucker is in the sweet bye and bye.”
“Including me and my sisters,” I accused, tears of anger gathering in my eyes. With trembling hands, I grabbed a napkin from the holder and wiped them away. “My God, Mama, for all these years you’ve allowed us to believe that Daddy was killed in a bank robbery. Do you have any idea what growing up without a father has done to us?”
She reached for my hand, but I snatched it away, placing it out of reach. She sighed at my reaction and slowly retracted her hand, placing it again in her lap. “Yes, Jolene, unfortunately, I do. I’ve seen the damage our actions caused, but we had no other choice. Mr. Blackstone approached Billie Jo one day when she and her classmates were on the school playground. Her teacher spotted him, and he ran off. She reported the incident to the principal, and we were notified. Your father and I knew we had to do something. That’s when we came up with the plan.”
“Which was to deceive your daughters?”
“No, yes, but that was a consequence we couldn’t avoid if we were to keep y’all safe.”
“Why didn’t you go to the police?” I asked.
“We did go to the sheriff, but he couldn’t offer much help. Back then Whiskey Creek was a much smaller town. The only law enforcement consisted of the sheriff and his two deputies who did their best to patrol the entire county. He promised to keep his eyes open for Mr. Blackstone, but with the explosion at the fertilizer plant, he had his hands full. We were on our own.”
“The family—”
“Didn’t know, and had no money to lend us,” she said. “And telling them might have placed them in danger.”
“So what happened after you left the sheriff?” I rose for another cup of coffee. “What about the plan?”
“It’s complicated,” she replied.
“And everything you’ve told me so far isn’t?” I sat down and reached for the cream and sugar. “I’ve been to Atlanta many times over the years searching for answers. No wonder no one could help me find an account of that supposed bank robbery. Go on, I need to hear the rest if I’m ever going to understand.”
Mama dashed a tear from her eye. “From the sheriff’s office we went over to Pete’s Funeral Home. He was terribly busy—three people had died in the explosion—but he heard us out and agreed to help. We bought a cheap coffin, planned a small funeral, and came up with the story of Harland’s demise in a bank robbery attempt. He left town that same day for a job with a hauling company. The plan was for him to send me money each month. I leased the farm lands for extra income, and with my teaching job, we were able to make it.”
“I don’t understand,” I said. “You faked Daddy’s death to throw off Mr. Blackstone? What if he’d come after us as promised? Didn’t this leave us completely vulnerable?”
Mama shook her head. “Harland and I thought about that when we came up with the plan. We got a couple of watchdogs, and your father taught me how to shoot his big shotgun. With the sheriff and his deputies on the lookout, we felt we’d be pretty safe until I could sell off that bottom land we weren’t farming. With the proceeds, I was able to make a deal with Mr. Blackstone. I promised to pay him the rest of the debt in full, if he’d give me time, and take a smaller payment each month. I told him that was the only way he’d ever see his money. I guess he saw my point because he agreed.”
“So he never asked to see the body? To verify your claims?”
“Under normal circumstances, he would have.”
“What do you mean?”
“Mr. Blackstone lost his brother in the explosion. By the time he thought to ask, it was too late.”
“And what about the family? How did you explain the closed coffin to them?”
“That I was following Harland’s wishes.”
“I suppose you filled the empty coffin with rocks,” I speculated.
“Sand bags.”
“So where does Daddy call home now?”
“Fitzgerald.”
I thought about the small town of Fitzgerald, just fifty miles southeast of Whiskey Creek. Daddy had been living so close, yet for me, a million miles away. I squelched back the resentment as it reared its ugly head once again, and said, “When can I see him? Can he come home now?”
“He’s on the road, but he’s scheduled to return to Georgia in the morning.” Her voice sounded tired. “There’s something else.”
“There’s more?” I asked incredulously, my overstrained nerves ready to snap.
“He took another name for precaution—Buddy Nelson.”
I closed my eyes. “This is a lot to take in.” My voice shook.
Mama’s hand closed over mine. I didn’t flinch this time, but allowed her soft touch to comfort me.
“That’s enough for tonight,” she said. “I need to head for the house, and you need to rest.”
My eyes snapped open. “But you didn’t answer my question. Can Daddy come home?”
She stood. “Tomorrow is soon enough to talk, Jolene. This is hard on me, too.”
Her face reflected exhaustion, so I let her go, locking the door behind her. On automatic, I cleaned the kitchen, set the alarm, and turned out the lights. In my bedroom, I flung myself across the bed, gave into my warring emotions, and had a good cry.
It was midnight when I finally turned out the lights, but sleep evaded me. As hard as I tried, I couldn’t get Mama’s story out of my mind. Daddy had been living and working close by all these years. The story sounded like something straight out of Hollywood. My parents had outsmarted a dangerous criminal.
And that brought my thoughts to the stolen flash drive locked in my office desk drawer. What information did it contain? Whatever it was, I instinctively knew it was important. Was it related to Scarlett’s demise? Could the thumb-drive be what Anthony had been searching for? The man in the blue sedan? No one knew it was in my possession. If they did, that would make me the target for a cold-blooded killer.
****
I woke with a start, momentarily disoriented by a sense of being watched. A slender thread of moonlight from the half-closed blinds cast its silvery glow across the bed. Pushing myself up on one elbow, I tried to discern what’d awakened me and looked over at the bedside clock. Four a.m. A slight movement in the corner of the bedroom stirred, taking shape, and tiny pinpricks of light slowly formed
into the pale figure I recognized. Alarmed, Tango hissed and sprang from the bed.
“You aged me ten years with that stunt, Scarlett,” I said, falling back on the pillows with relief.
She floated closer. “Sorry, I’m so late in getting here, but I was busy. FYI, there’s some guy in a ski mask in your backyard. I believe he’s looking for a way in.”
I froze, straining to hear. After a moment, I heard the subtle rustling of fingertips brushing against the windowpane. The faint outline of a person painted itself against the shadows. Quietly, I grabbed Mini Pearl from the bedside table, emptied the cylinders and reloaded with hollow-point bullets from the drawer. Taking several deep, calming breaths, I eased out of bed.
For a long, tense minute, I studied the indigo shadow as it tested the window, and upon finding it locked, disappeared then reappeared at the other window. Confident with Mini Pearl in my grip, I crouched beside the bed until the shadow moved out of my line of sight, and then I darted out into the hall. Staying in the semidarkness, I double-checked the security system. Satisfied, I moved into the kitchen where I’d last seen my cell phone.
I found it lying next to my purse on the kitchen table. I snatched it up and dialed 9-1-1.
“What is your emergency?”
“Someone is trying to break into my house.”
“What is your address?”
I gave it to her. “Please hurry. I can hear him on the front porch.”
“Stay on the line until the officers arrive, ma’am. Are you alone?”
Heavy footsteps approached the back kitchen door from the carport. The door-knob rattled, and I could just make out the shape of a man through the glass. “Yes, I’m alone. He’s at the back door now… Where’s the freakin’ police?”
“Stay calm. They’re less than two minutes out.” A pause, then, “Where are you in the house, ma’am?”
“The laundry room. Just off the kitchen. Better tell them to hurry, or I’ll introduce the jerk to Mini Pearl.”
“You said you were alone in the house, ma’am. Is Minnie Pearl your dog?”
Dixieland Dead Page 16
