Dixieland Dead

by Penny Burwell Ewing

  A gun appeared in her hand.

  “Have a seat,” she said softly, her eyes narrowing. “Do as I say. My patience is running thin. I will shoot you.”

  I obeyed as the Glock pressed into my side reinforced her words. I had to stay calm and not give into the cold, hard fear welling up inside.

  Her frosty smile matched her eyes. “I knew you guessed the truth when you recognized my brooch.”

  “You’re wrong, Mrs. Payne. I didn’t recognize Scarlett’s brooch until just a few minutes ago,” I said. “She had it on the day she died. I wouldn’t have connected the incident, had you not worn it tonight.”

  “My idiotic husband gave it to her as a token of his affection. Can you believe he would give a valuable piece of heirloom jewelry to his mistress? I won’t be made a fool of.”

  I measured my options. Screaming was out—no one would hear my cries. I couldn’t outrun a bullet. And I wasn’t a fast draw. Linda would shoot me before I could reach the derringer. What’s keeping Bradford? And where the hell is Scarlett with those big kiss-ass angels?

  “You should’ve minded your own business. Surely you understand that I can’t allow you to live.” Her voice held a rasp of excitement.

  The door pushed open, and a sound of shock issued from the newcomer. “Linda, have you lost your mind? Put the gun down. You’ve had too much to drink tonight.”

  A numb sense of relief came over me when I turned to see the mayor standing in the open doorway.

  “Shut up you fool,” Linda said. The gun swung back and forth between me and the mayor. “She knows everything.”

  The door closed behind him with a soft click. With his hands held out in front of him, he took a hesitant step. “I can’t let you kill another innocent human being.”

  Her eyes blazed green fire. “Innocent? Scarlett wasn’t innocent. She bragged about her pregnancy. Pregnant with your child. She taunted me with it for weeks, saying I couldn’t give you a child. You were going to divorce me and marry her—she would be the First Lady of Georgia. She’s the reason I lost my baby.” She broke out in sobs.

  He stood awkwardly for a moment. “No, it’s my fault. I’m sorry for hurting you. I should have sent you away to Magnolia Manor the same morning you showed me the diamond brooch. If I had, you’d be getting the help you need. Why did you do it?”

  Linda shook her head. “Revenge. I broke into the salon and planted the poisonous tea bags, the plaster powder in the facial room. I even gave her another chance to give you up. She had to see you one last time, she said. Ha. My plan carried itself out flawlessly.” Her hand closed over the brooch possessively.

  “You murdered Scarlett just because you thought she was pregnant?” I asked.

  “I ran into her at the doctor’s office,” she said. “She bragged to me that she was pregnant with Henry’s child. I wanted her to know the pain of losing a child as I had.” She looked at her husband. “And I wanted to scar her pretty face. Maybe then you’d lose interest in her.”

  I thought back to my conversation with Becky the day of the murder. My daughter had witnessed the confrontation between the two women, but she’d had no idea why they were arguing.

  “Scarlett lied about the pregnancy,” I said.

  Henry took an abrupt step toward his wife. “Let me help you. Please give me the weapon.”

  The gun swung back to the mayor. “Stay away from me. You’re not sending me back to Magnolia Manor. That’s what Scarlett planned all along, you know. That bitch was snooping into my past. She was there. I know. I have connections.”

  The tension in the room escalated. I had to do something to defuse it, or I’d be pushing up daisies, and I was way too young to pass through the pearly gates.

  “Listen to me, Mrs. Payne,” I said as calmly as I could manage. “Scarlett wasn’t at Magnolia Manor to dig up your past, but to track down a source for a story she was working on.” I paused, taking a deep breath to steady my shaking voice. “Detective Bradford is going to be coming through that door any minute. It would be best if you put the gun down.”

  Insanity stared back at me. “This is your fault,” she said, inching the gun closer. “Why couldn’t you mind your own business?”

  “Darling, please listen to reason. I’m begging you, my love.”

  Henry’s pleading voice momentarily captured Linda’s attention so I sized up my chances of escape without incurring bodily harm. Scanning my surroundings, I measured the distance between me and the door. Too far—I’d never make it before taking a bullet in the back. If only I could grab the derringer.

  As if she could read my thoughts, Linda’s gaze, and gun, swung around. Thankfully, I hadn’t moved, but I watched in horror as the mayor lunged for the gun. The muffled whomp of a gunshot froze my feet to the floor. In appalled shock, I watched him collapse. Not thinking of my actions, I rushed to his side.

  “Call 9-1-1.” I jerked a small cozy from a nearby table and pressed it to his wound. Immediately, I was covered in warm, sticky blood.

  Startled, Linda brought the gun around, pointing it directly at my forehead.

  “Get up,” she said in a raw, harsh voice.

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Finish the job I started the other night in the hospital.”

  The shock of her confession hit me full force. “It was you?” I gasped, climbing slowly to my feet, tottering dizzily. Then I slipped on a large white feather which suddenly appeared on the floor and smacked into Linda.

  The Glock clattered to the floor, sliding several feet from us. Stunned and breathless, I struggled to my knees and lurched forward, only to find myself entangled by her grasping arms. Blood poured from a gash on her cheek. Our screams of rage filled the room as we both wrestled for the gun lying several feet away. Gathering my failing strength, I grabbed a handful of hair and jerked her head backward. I fumbled for the derringer strapped to my thigh, but it failed to dislodge from its holster.

  Linda gasped and kicked viciously, her nails ripping into my arm. Pain streaked up to my shoulder, but I hung on, giving her hair another hard yank. Again, the derringer snagged as I tried to pull it from its holster. Then, mysteriously, it was in my hand. I brought it up and aimed at her torso as my finger tightened on the trigger.

  “Don’t do it, Jolene,” a voice ordered from the door.

  Bradford’s arresting face swam into my view as I turned toward his deep-timbred voice.

  I looked at the derringer held tightly in my shaking hands. “She shot her husband.”

  “It’s over now. You’re safe. Just place the weapon on the table and move away.”

  Linda slumped to the floor. I set the gun down as directed and heard the guests rush into the room. Someone screamed, and I looked up to see the mayor’s parents standing over their son.

  “Linda killed Scarlett,” I choked out.

  DA Fallon led me to a chair and placed a glass of water in my hand. “Here, drink this. You don’t look so good.”

  “I don’t feel so well,” I said. The encounter with Scarlett’s killer had unnerved me. For the second time in my life, I had known true fear—had shown my backside to the death angel, and had come out alive.

  One of the guests escorted me to the bathroom so I could wash my face and hands free of the blood. EMTs and half of the police force had arrived and were working the scene when I returned to the library. Bradford waited for me with a frown.

  “Officer Clark will take your statement in another room,” he directed in a crisp authoritative voice that left me chilled. He turned to help the officers arriving on the scene.

  I followed Clark out of the library and to an informal parlor down the hall. I told him everything I’d witnessed between Richard Payne and Robert Burns, then everything that had transpired between me and the mayor and his deranged wife. He wrote it all down, asking pertinent questions. When we were finished, he disappeared, leaving me in the welcome silence of the richly decorated parlor.

  An hour late
r, Bradford walked into the room. He stood with his hands shoved in his pockets, his face angry.

  “You could’ve been killed. I asked you to stay out of trouble and you ignored my warning. Then you lied about being armed.”

  Hurt and frustration radiated from him. Feeling utterly miserable, I reached out to him. “I do things without thinking.” He didn’t take my hand. I let it drop back to my side.

  “The stolen thumb-drive was found in Richard Payne’s possession. We now have the evidence to charge him and his cohorts with several major crimes in this town, including the murders of Judge Cantrell and his wife. He and Burns have been arrested, as has Mr. Blackstone. Further arrests will be made.”

  “Good. How’s the mayor?”

  “He’s in surgery, but the doctors believe he’ll make a full recovery. However, his political career is over.”

  “And Linda?”

  “She collapsed after confessing to planting the tea bags and plaster powder at Dixieland Salon. She had hoped to induce a miscarriage with the arsenic and disfigure Scarlett with the plaster powder. She also confessed to attempting to silence you. She’s mentally disturbed. Who can say if she meant to murder Scarlett?”

  I pushed a wayward strand of hair from my face. “She shot her husband and would’ve killed me if circumstances hadn’t intervened. Linda’s a dangerous woman.”

  “We’ll leave the details for the D.A. to work out. She’s been transported to the hospital under heavy guard.”

  “What about Grant?”

  “He’s being interviewed downtown for evidence tampering. Turns out he’s a dirty cop. He confessed to being on the Brotherhood’s payroll. He’s also the driver of the dark blue sedan that caused your accident. You’ve been cleared of any wrongdoing, so let’s get you home.”

  I stood on shaking legs, numb with the reality that this nightmare had ended. Bradford offered his arm and helped me to his car. He drove me straight home and let the engine idle.

  “You’re out of danger, but for precaution, a patrol car will be parked out front for the night.” He unlocked the door and handed me his key. “Get some rest now. I’ll pick up my things tomorrow.”

  From the living room window, I watched his headlights back out of the driveway. With a weary sigh I followed Tango to my bedroom, where I took a hot shower and dumped my new blood-soaked dress into the garbage. The phone rang just as I was climbing into bed. Phones ringing at that early hour are seldom good news, and after my nightmare night on the town, my heart was beating a steady tempo when I snatched up the receiver.

  “Hello?” I listened as my son-in-law’s voice cracked over the line with the news that Becky had gone into labor. The hospital intercom blared in the background. “I’m on my way.”

  I bolted out of bed, threw on some clothes, and headed for the hospital in my rental car. Amazingly, the rest of the family showed up just minutes after I took a seat in the family waiting room. While we waited for the baby to arrive, I gave an abbreviated version of my role in solving Scarlett’s murder, downplaying any heroics on my part. After assuring them I was never in any real danger, Mama settled down and turned her attention to the birth of her great-granddaughter.

  Deena and Billie Jo pulled me aside.

  “So it’s over?” Deena asked.

  “Yes, we can get back to normal.” I yawned. “And Daddy can finally come home for good.”

  “And Scarlett?” Billie Jo asked.

  “Gone.”

  “You sound sad,” Billie Jo said. “I thought you’d be relieved that she’d moved on.”

  “I guess I am. Funny, how you think you know a person and then they show a side of themselves you never guessed existed. Scarlett was like that. Beneath that hard shell was a grain of good. Everyone carries a hidden hurt—even Scarlett. She taught me not to judge a book by its cover. I’m gonna miss her.”

  Another hour passed before Jacob came in with an update. Hannah Grace Fairchild had been safely delivered and would be making her first appearance as soon as she was cleaned up and dressed to meet the family. Becky was tired but doing fine.

  I met my seven pound, three-ounce granddaughter fifteen minutes later, and with one look, I knew that she, like me, had the “third eye”. Her life would be filled with visions of people who’d passed over to the Other Side. And I would be there to direct her steps along this difficult path. But for now, my long night had caught up with me. I gave her butterfly kisses before handing her back to Becky, promising to visit after catching up on some much-needed rest.

  Back at home, I changed into my nightie and climbed into bed, glad my grand adventure had ended on a positive note. Bradford’s angry face came to mind. Losing him was my biggest regret. Tomorrow I would think about change. Yes, tomorrow would be soon enough, because after all, tomorrow is another day.

  Chapter Thirty

  Dangerous Habits

  I had just drifted off to sleep when Tango’s sharp claws dug into my leg, bringing me straight up in bed. With a hiss, he sprang from the bed and shot out of the room. There, floating at the foot of my bed, was Scarlett—clothed in a tan trench coat with a golden belt cinched tightly around her tiny waist. An aura of overwhelming joy surrounded her. I tore my eyes from her beautiful countenance to the glorious angels standing behind her, their massive wings a golden umbrella over her rich, brown curls. They, too, smiled down on me.

  “I wondered where you’d gotten off to,” I said. “You have a habit of skipping out just when the action is starting. I could’ve been killed!”

  Her laughter rang like the tinkling of porcelain wind chimes in a delicate summer breeze. “Who do you think sent the feather your way and freed your gun from its holster? I timed it perfectly.”

  “You?” I questioned doubtfully. “I thought you said there were angels watching over me. ‘Backup’ is the word you used, and now you’re telling me you were lying?”

  “Only a little white fib to bolster your courage. It worked, didn’t it?” Scarlett cocked her head heavenward. “I came to tell you goodbye and to thank you. My trial is over. They found me guilty on all counts.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. Now what? Do you have to move really far south where it’s hot?”

  “No, nothing like that, I’m happy to say. I have to take amendment classes.”

  I laughed. “I won’t even ask you what that means. So where’s your usual getup? The southern belle wardrobe.”

  “Oh, that’s so yesterday,” she twittered. “There’s a Celestial University offering criminal investigation classes. I’m thinking of hiring out my services once I graduate.”

  I had to ask. “You want to be a detective in heaven?”

  “No, of course, not. I’m thinking PI. You never know when you might need my help again.”

  “Oh no, I’m finished with investigating,” I protested. “We can’t take credit for solving your murder. We stumbled into the answers, so don’t get any ideas about future sleuthing.”

  “We’ll see.” She tucked flyaway strands back into the thick bun fastened at her neckline.

  “You seem happy.”

  Scarlett reached out and touched my face. “I am. But I have regrets. Take my advice, grab up that delectable police detective and taste the sweet things in life while you can. Life is short, you know.”

  “I’m afraid that door has been closed.”

  “It is only if you say it is. Well, gotta run. Goodbye.”

  “Stop in sometime and say hello. Remember, my friends are always welcome.”

  And then, in a blaze of light, she was gone.

  ****

  The doorbell rang at eight. I had just finished my morning coffee and was stacking breakfast dishes in the dishwasher before getting ready for work. Short on time, I hastily hung up my apron on the inside of the pantry door and hurried to answer the second peal. I opened the door to see Bradford, cowboy hat in hand, waiting on the other side of the panel.

  “I’m not too early, am I?” He shifted his hat from han
d to hand. “You know, to get my things? I wanted to catch you before you left for the salon.”

  Words failed me. I’d been longing for, and dreading, this moment since our tense parting last night. Fixing relationships was never one of my strong points. The second I opened my mouth, all the wrong words tended to fly out. So I did the next best thing and opened the door wider, and with a motion of my hand, invited him in.

  “This shouldn’t take long,” he said in the continuing silence of the foyer. “I left my belongings in the guest room.” He crossed the foyer and started toward the hall.

  “Wait.”

  I hadn’t realized I’d spoken aloud until he stopped and turned around to face me. “Yes?”

  “About last night.”

  “Quite a night.”

  “Yes. It was.” I swallowed hard. “I was less than truthful with you.”

  “You lied about being armed.”

  “I stretch the truth on occasion.”

  He took a step toward me. “Yes, you do. Dangerous habit.”

  “I don’t always listen to advice.”

  Another step. “Almost never.”

  “I’m stubborn.”

  “Infuriatingly so.”

  “Pushy.”

  “That’s a given.”

  “I do have a good side, if you’re interested,” I countered.

  “I am.”

  I took a step toward him. “I could show you.”

  “You’ll be late for work.”

  “I could say the same for you.”

  He returned my smile. “Actually, the chief gave me the day off.”

  “I could call in sick.” Another step. “Of course, that would mean I would have to spend all day in bed.”

  “Want some company?”

  I stepped into his embrace. “Yes, but only if you show me your gun.”

  “Handling guns are another dangerous habit.”

  “Yes, I know, Detective Bradford.” I slipped my hand into his and we started down the hall toward the bedroom. “But that is one dangerous habit that I’m very, very good at.”