“What business? What goods?”
“Drug smuggling,” he stammered.
Her mind scrambled over images of tattooed drug lords from old movies like Scarface and Pulp Fiction. She shook her head. Burl might as well have GOOD OLD SOUTHERN BOY tattooed across his chest.
“No way.” Holly threw her head back and laughed.
Burl’s brows slammed together. “What’s so funny?”
“You? A drug lord?”
“I didn’t say I was a drug lord.”
“Whatever. Now, tell me the truth.”
He stuffed his hands in his pockets and sulked. “I did,” he said, holding eye contact longer than a lie would allow.
Her stomach quivered at the revelation. Drug smuggling at Holly Grove. “How could you?”
“It’s not something I planned. Then the money started rolling in. I couldn’t walk away from the cash, and I couldn’t tell you.” He shrugged. “I was planning on going straight as soon as I got ahead. Then my plane crashed. I think busting up the smuggling ring at Holly Grove is my unfinished business and my ticket out of here.”
Holly’s head ached. “It’s still going on?”
“We were going to lay low for a few months, because they heard the law was snooping around. Then they planned to make up for it with a huge drop in October.”
She paced in front of Burl. “This has got to stop. I’ll call the police. They’ll send in someone to trap them and, bang, it’s done.” She eyed Burl. “And you’re out of here.”
“That’s fiction, Blondie.”
Holly stopped short. “Stop calling me that, and why on God’s green earth shouldn’t I call the police?”
“And tell them what? You didn’t know a thing about the smuggling your husband was doing, but now you want it stopped. Sure, Blondie. How would you feel about Holly Grove being confiscated in a drug raid?”
“Not happening. I’ll call Sheriff Walker. He knows me.”
“So does Miss Alice, and you nearly ended up on your way to rehab.”
Holly slumped against the dryer. “There’s got to be someone I can call.”
“You can call them all once you’ve got proof.” He counted on his fingers. “FBI, ICE, the state police, and the sheriff. Call the dogcatcher, for all I care.”
Holly folded her arms over her chest. “How do I get this proof?”
“Very quietly. They have ears everywhere. Believe me,” Burl said, thumbing his chest. “I learned the hard way. If you blow the whistle too soon, they’ll just lay low until it’s too late to do me any good. Then they’ll start up again, and you’ll never know which guest is packing marijuana into his trunk when he leaves here. Can you live with that?”
“No.”
He cocked a brow at her. “Can you live with me if I miss my chance?”
“Definitely not.” She blew out a long sigh. “What do I have to do?”
“One of your guests will be the contact, and you need to figure out which one.”
She launched herself from her perch against the dryer. “Me? Who do you think I am? A Bond girl? You know what the guy looks like.”
Burl’s image flickered. “Unfortunately, I’m not always available.”
“What do you mean? You’re stuck here. Where else would you be?”
“Don’t worry, Blondie. I’ve got your back.”
“I don’t trust you at my back.”
He faded a bit.
“We’re not near finished here.” Holly reached to grab him, as if that’d do any good, and he vaporized.
He’s not telling me something. I know it.
A knock at the door nearly made her jump out of her skin.
* * *
“I thought I heard voices,” Jake said as he pushed the laundry-room door open.
A crease between Holly’s brows marred her expression. “I—I must have been muttering to myself.” She grabbed the stack of towels, then glanced over her shoulder, as though she’d left something behind. “Sorry to keep you waiting. I had to fold the towels. I’ll show you to your room.”
Odd. He hadn’t been able to make out what she was saying earlier, but it had sounded like an argument, which requires two for most people. “I’ll take those.”
She handed him the stack of towels and looked over her shoulder again, leaving him certain Holly was hiding something. He wondered if anyone was back there. Maybe she’d been on the phone. Obviously, whatever was going on, she hadn’t wanted to say.
“Your room is up here.” She led him up a worn cypress staircase.
It felt almost forbidden as he climbed the stairs. “You know, I’ve never been past the front hall.”
“I offer a tour at ten o’clock every morning for guests and day visitors. You can learn more than you ever wanted to know about this house and my ancestors.”
They entered a wide hallway. Thick antique Oriental rugs covered most of the cypress planks. She stopped in the middle of the hallway. “There are four bedrooms on this floor, and each shares a balcony.”
Jake stood in the middle of the hall, grinning. “You know, I always wanted to come up here. Once I thought about climbing up the balcony and sneaking in your room, but I was afraid your mother would shoot me.”
“She would have.” Holly chuckled and opened a bedroom door. She stepped into the room and Jake followed her. “This is your room, for now. I’ll have to rotate you around reservations. At least, I hope I will, if the rumor hasn’t ruined my business.”
Holly walked to the corner of the room and opened a short door. “It’s small, but it has all you need.” She took the towels from Jake and placed them on a shelf in a bathroom.
He stuck his head in the door of the bathroom that was about the right size for Snow White’s dwarfs who’d fit in the chairs downstairs. “You sure I’ll fit in there?”
A hint of a grin slipped across her lips as she stepped past him and back into the bedroom. “Barely, but yes. I promise I’ll upgrade you to a bigger bathroom as soon as I have a room available.”
He turned and stared at the bed, with posts as big as his arms. Now, that’s more my size. “That beats the heck out of sleeping on the sofa in Sam’s office.”
She gave him a little half grin. “I really appreciate the trade.”
Jake put the stack of towels on the bed and followed her onto the balcony. Cypress planks with a worn coat of gray paint slanted toward the banister.
Holly leaned against a white column and folded her arms, facing away from him. Remnants of an autumn sunset, with splashes of deep reds and oranges, hung against an inky sky. “Bet you don’t see this sunset in New York City.”
“Nope, but the nighttime city skyline is a show, though. Have you ever seen it?”
She shook her head and rubbed her arms against the chill in the air. “When I look at the sky from here, I always think about the generations before me who watched the same sunsets.”
He draped his jacket over her shoulders, then stood beside her.
“They had real problems.” She pointed to a vacant spot in a row of sprawling oak trees. “There used to be a tree there.”
“What happened to it?”
“My great-great-great-great-grandfather was hanged from that tree by renegade Yankees after the war.” She turned to face Jake. “After the Yankees left, his wife and three daughters cut the rope from around his neck and buried him. That same day, the women sawed down the tree. The oaks were much smaller then, but big enough for a hangin’, as Grandma Rose used to say.”
“That’s quite a story.”
“I know all the stories that come with this house. They were passed down from generation to generation, just like Holly Grove.”
“You come from tough stock.”
“That’s right, and I’m not going to be the weak link that breaks the chain.” She swept the grounds of the plantation with her gaze. “It’s the stories I tell that keep Holly Grove and my family alive.” Pride filled the smile that seemed to come straigh
t from her heart. “Holly Grove means everything to me.”
Jake knew that. The question was, would she do anything to keep Holly Grove? Would she allow herself to become involved in smuggling? Drug running?
Murder?
CHAPTER 6
A scream ripped through the house, jarring Holly from a deep sleep. She leaped from her bed and ran for the door. Footsteps thundered in the hallway, and when Holly flung her door open, she nearly smacked into Nelda.
Nelda wrenched her neck as she turned toward the room next door and pointed. “There’s a necked man in there.”
With his dark hair slicked back and dripping water, Jake strode through the open bedroom door. Rivulets glided down his neck and combed through a patch of coarse hair on his chest before traveling over the tight cords of tanned muscle to the towel wrapped around his hips.
Both women froze.
Jake took a step toward the women. “I didn’t mean to frighten you,” he said to Nelda.
Holly pried her stare away from Jake and turned to Nelda. “What happened?”
“I was gonna air out the musty old house smell ’fore the guests got here this evenin’. After I opened the windows, I turned around, and there was a necked man. I screamed ’cause I ain’t used to seeing necked men just show up out of the blue.”
“Nelda.” Holly held her voice steady and firm. “This is Jake McCann. He’s a guest.”
Nelda looked back at Jake, then to Holly. Bunching her brows together, she whispered, “Your Jake from high school?”
Holly nodded.
Nelda huffed. “If you’d told me we had a guest, I wouldn’t have busted up in his room,” she said loud enough for Jake to hear.
“Last-minute reservation,” Holly said.
Nelda squeezed Holly’s arm and whispered, “That guest needs to be in your room, not next door.” She winked and nodded. “Believe me.”
Heat rose to Holly’s face like a pink plague.
Nelda sashayed over to Jake and held her hand out. “I’m Nelda. Sorry for bustin’ in on you like that.”
Jake held his towel with one hand and shook Nelda’s hand with the other. “No harm done.”
“How long you stayin’?” Nelda continued, like Jake wasn’t standing there mostly nude.
“Nelda, let’s let Jake get dressed,” Holly said, still standing in her doorway and wearing an old sleep shirt and sweats.
Nelda shoved a hand on her hip and eyed Holly. “I already seen him necked. I just want to know how long he’s stayin’ so I can make him some pralines to make up for bustin’ up in his room.”
“No rush on the pralines, Nelda. I’ll be here all month,” Jake said, propping a shoulder on the door frame.
Nelda cocked an eye at Holly, then looked back at Jake. “You got a wife or girlfriend comin’ to stay with us, too?”
“Nelda!” Holly marched toward her housekeeper.
She grinned at Holly. “I need to know how many pralines to make.”
Holly grabbed Nelda by the arm and ushered her down the stairs. “Let’s go make some coffee and breakfast for our guest.”
“Nice seein’ ya, Jake,” Nelda hollered over her shoulder.
Jake let out a low chuckle, but Holly didn’t dare look back.
“What were you thinking?” Holly said as she towed Nelda into the kitchen. “Nice to see ya.” Holly shook her head. “You don’t say that after you accidentally see a man naked, especially our guest.”
“Ya do if it was nice. And it was real nice.”
Holly rolled her eyes. “If it was so nice, why’d you scream?”
“The scream came out when I didn’t expect to see a necked man in the room. The nice came after I was runnin’ down the hall, thinking about how nice—”
Holly held up her hand in a halting motion. “Nelda.”
“I know Burl ain’t been dead long, God rest his soul, but you’re still livin’, last I checked.”
“This has nothing to do with Burl.” Holly opened the glass canister of French roast coffee. The aroma wafted through her senses, promising needed high-octane caffeine.
Nelda had never been known to think before she opened her mouth, and instructing her in the fine art of tact was a waste of time Holly didn’t have. She filled the vintage drip coffeepot with water, then scooped the grounds into the basket. “The pot is ready. Just put it on when you get the stove lit. I have to dress before the Deltas catch me in my sweats. They’ll be here at nine.”
“If they’re gonna want a cake, like usual, we got a problem. Remember, the stove’s broke. Y’all gonna have to eat cereal for breakfast, too.”
Holly huffed. “It’s fine. I lit it last night. There must have been air in the line.”
“If I get blowed sky-high, you gonna have to live with it,” Nelda grumbled as she ambled to the stove.
Caffeine deficient, Holly plopped the pot on the stove. “I’ll live with it.”
“Who peed in your soup?” Nelda asked as Holly padded across the kitchen.
“Nobody.”
“Uh-huh,” Nelda said in her “Yeah, right” tone.
“I just need coffee.” Holly pushed through the kitchen door, and it flapped behind her.
“You need more than coffee if that man didn’t wake you up,” Nelda called from the kitchen.
Holly pretended she hadn’t heard her. She didn’t need that part of her to wake up. Not by Jake. Not now.
* * *
Ten minutes later, Holly dashed down the stairs. She wore a black skirt, a white blouse, and practical flats for the long day ahead preparing for the Deltas and the weekend guests.
Rhett’s yaps rang out from the kitchen as Holly padded through the entrance hall.
Nelda’s voice carried through the door. “Hush up, Rhett. I can’t feed you till I make breakfast. And I can’t make breakfast till I light this contrary old stove. I told Holly it was broke, but she’s got more broke stuff around here than money. So I’m gonna light this stove if I have to strike every last one of these matches. That girl needs a break, and you just got to wait.”
Holly slowed her pace. Nelda might not censor her words, but she didn’t censor her heart, either. As exasperating as Nelda could be, she was the one person Holly counted on. It’d been tough to pay her lately, but she couldn’t let Nelda down, because Nelda never let her down.
When Holly entered the kitchen, Nelda was tossing a burnt match on the counter with a dozen more. She struck another match, turned a knob, and then held the match to the burner.
A translucent image came into focus. As soon as the burner caught, Burl leaned over the stove and blew the flame and the match out. He covered his mouth, and his shoulders shook in a silent laugh. While Nelda flipped the gas off and pulled another match from the box, Burl wiggled his leg at Rhett, causing a barrage of shrill yaps.
Burl jerked to attention when he saw Holly. He rubbed the grin off his face and cleared his throat. “Just having a little fun with Nelda and Rhett.”
Holly folded her arms over her chest and glared at Burl.
“If this contraption don’t blow me up, I’m gonna light it,” Nelda said, striking another match.
Glowering at Burl, Holly marched to the stove. She grabbed the matchbox from Nelda and lit the burner. “The stove isn’t broken. It’s haunted.”
“What you talkin’ ’bout?” Nelda said, taking three backward steps, the lit match glowing between her fingers.
“All that God blessing you did didn’t help. Burl is back, and he’s blowing the flame out on the stove every time you light it.” Holly plunked the coffeepot on the lit burner.
Nelda cocked her head to the side and opened her mouth, but nothing came out. A flash of pain leapt to her face, and she shook the match until the flame died.
“Remember, Blondie, she can’t see me,” Burl said.
“Just because she can’t see you doesn’t mean I’m going to let you mess with her.” Holly scooped Rhett into her arms. She wagged a finger at Burl. �
�And leave my dog alone, too.”
“Can’t a guy have a little fun?”
Holly’s brain slammed into overdrive, and her heart pumped with anger. “Burl, you’re a lying, cheating pile of—”
“Hey. Don’t get personal.”
“You said you couldn’t haunt. You lied. Again.” She pointed to the stove. “You just haunted my stove.”
“Uh-uh. You ain’t talking to a ghost,” Nelda said, wide eyed, her backside hugging the kitchen cabinet and her hands curled in a death grip over the edge of the countertop.
“I’m talking to the sorriest excuse for a husband that ever lived and an even sorrier ghost.”
“Come on, Blondie. Lighten up.”
A blur of arms, legs, and a printed caftan raced to the back door.
“Nelda, wait,” Holly called.
Heavy footsteps clattered across the porch. The whop of the screen door followed close behind.
Holly spun around to face Burl. “Look what you’ve done.”
The squeal of burning rubber and an engine pushed to its limit rang out.
Holly wagged her finger at Burl. “Nelda didn’t deserve to be scared like that.”
Burl took a step back.
“What’s she ever done to you? All she’s trying to do is her job.” Holly slapped her forehead. “Lordy. I’ve got the Deltas coming in less than an hour and six guests checking in for the weekend, and you just ran off my housekeeper.” And the only person she’d thought she could count on.
“Me? If you hadn’t opened your mouth, she would have just thought the stove was broken.”
“You said you couldn’t haunt.”
“I can’t.” He lifted his shoulders. “I can blow a little.”
“You’re going to blow a lot. I’m going to light every candle I own.” She pointed a finger at Burl. “And you’re going to blow them out on cue. Got it?”
“Will that make you forgive me?”
“No.”
“But if I do it, you’ll help me.” He rubbed his hands together. “We’re partners. Right?”
“You’d better get ready to pucker up and blow if you want to see the pearly gates.” Holly pasted a sardonic smile on her face.
“I don’t think I like your attitude.”
Better Dead Page 5
