Better Dead

by Pamela Kopfler

She shoved a plate filled with the last of Dot’s blue-plate specials into the microwave hidden away in the butler’s pantry, then hit the button to nuke dinner. As soon as the guests retired for the night, Jake would expect answers she didn’t have. But Burl did.

  “If you can’t hear me, Burl, I hope you’re in hell, and I hope you stay there.”

  The microwave dinged, and she jumped.

  “I knew you missed me,” Burl said from behind her.

  She whirled around. “Where have you been?”

  “Heck if I know.” He shrugged. “One minute I’m here, and then I’m in that black hole where time stops. Being dead is weird, but I’m getting used to it.”

  “I didn’t ask for a dissertation,” she said, taking the plate from the microwave.

  “Fine. I’ll go back.”

  “Wait!”

  “See?” Burl flashed his patented “I am the greatest,” cock-and-bull smile. “You can’t get enough of me.”

  “Oh, I’ve had plenty of you. Unfortunately, you’re the only one who can tell me why Eudora had bags of dope stuffed inside her.”

  “Eudora?”

  “The dummy.” She fisted the plastic wrap from the blue-plate and bunched it into a ball. “Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about.”

  “Why on earth would you go digging inside a dummy?”

  “I didn’t. Dog tore her in half, and it fell out.”

  “Rhett?”

  “No. A real dog. A big one.” Holly blew out an exasperated breath. “It doesn’t matter. Eudora was full of drugs. Did you leave dope in Eudora?”

  “You didn’t call the police, did you?”

  “No, but if I don’t have a good story, Jake will.”

  Burl’s brows shot up. “You told that hack?”

  “No. He saw it fall out. If I can’t explain, he’ll call the cops and put the story in the paper.”

  “Where’s the dope?”

  “I don’t know. Jake hid it.”

  “Are you crazy? Do you know how much that stuff is worth? He may be in Mexico by now.”

  Holly jabbed a hand on her hip. “He’s in the dining room, along with three couples who are old enough to be my grandparents. I’m as sure as sin they didn’t stuff Eudora, so that leaves you.”

  “Me? What about your freeloading guest, Jack, or whatever his name is?”

  “He was just as shocked as I was when the dope fell out. I know Jake.” Holly leveled a stare at Burl’s pale face. “He’d never get mixed up in something like this. That leaves you.”

  Burl stubbed a Gucci-clad toe across the floor. “I was waiting for a good time to tell you this, but you’ve been a little testy lately.”

  “Imagine that.”

  “I had your interest at heart when I skimmed from the loads. I was planning on making a transaction that would have solved all our financial problems.” He lifted a shoulder. “Then I crashed, and I never got around to telling you about my stash. I knew you’d be ticked, and I’ve been trying to get on your good side.”

  “So you left Lord knows how many dollars’ worth of cocaine and marijuana in Eudora for me to haul in the house and put on display.”

  “How was I supposed to know I was going to crash? Besides, that load was supposed to be in my storage container.” Burl looked toward heaven. “I swear to God. I didn’t put it in Eudora. And I wouldn’t chance lying to Him right now, if you know what I mean.”

  “But if you didn’t put it there, who did?”

  “I don’t know, but they’ll be back for it. I’d bet my life on it, if I had one.” Burl’s image faded a bit.

  “How did someone get your stash?”

  “How would I know? I’ve been dead,” he said as his translucent body melted before her.

  “Great. Just great.” She never could finish a conversation with him when he was alive, either. Now what was she going to tell Jake?

  * * *

  Jake had worked undercover in some of the most dangerous cartels in the world and had suffered less. He forked a bite from the slab of chocolate pie as the conversation at the dinner table groaned on.

  The three old couples had come to town for their sixtieth class reunion. Miss Alice knew them from high school, though she’d been quick to point out she’d been a freshman when they graduated.

  Miss Alice dished juicy town gossip, catching the out-of-towners up on the locals.

  Holly sat at the head of the table, directly across from him. She nodded sympathetically to Mrs. Bell, who was yammering on about her gall bladder surgery. So far, Jake had counted four surgeries for Mrs. Bell and three for her husband. The conversation turned to prescription drug coverage, and Jake yawned.

  Every time he looked at Holly, her interest shifted to another guest, as though their laundry list of health issues had captured her attention. She’d avoided him since he’d come back from the Gazette, but he darned well would get answers soon.

  He’d been shipped down to a speck in the road to bust a drug ring and save what was left of his career. Three days ago he’d almost called his boss to tell him there wasn’t anything here. Today the angel at the other end of the table had knocked a few dents in her halo when the dope fell out of the dummy.

  His gut told him she wasn’t in on Burl’s smuggling ring. But that same gut feeling had blown his cover and his bust back in New York. If he’d followed the rules, he wouldn’t have been cast out to Delta Ridge. If he didn’t prove himself in the field this time, this snore-fest would be exciting compared to the cubical life at ICE.

  This time he’d follow the rules. He’d secured the drugs and filed a report. Telling Holly he’d hidden the drugs gave him power over her for now, but what he needed was her trust. Until then, he’d use power to get answers—for her own good.

  The sooner he made this bust, the sooner he’d be out of Delta Ridge. And the more distance he put between Holly and himself, the sooner he could relegate her to a memory. Or he could try.

  “If y’all will excuse me, I’m going to go for a walk to settle my dinner.” Miss Alice stood and patted her stomach. “Exercise keeps me healthy.”

  “I’ll help you clean up here, Holly,” Jake said, to give him the opportunity to talk to her alone.

  “George, did you hear that? I’ve waited forty years to hear those words from you,” Mrs. Bell said to her husband.

  “If you looked like Holly, I might offer,” he said as he winked at Jake.

  Mrs. Bell gave her husband’s arm a backhanded slap. “George Bell. You old goat. You never offered when I was young and shapely, either.”

  Mr. Bell moaned. “Jake, you’re making us old guys look bad.”

  Jake strode to the other end of the table. He picked up Holly’s iced tea glass and plates. “It’s an investment, if you know what I mean.” Jake winked at Holly.

  Her lips parted as though she would speak; then her face flushed.

  As Jake pushed through the swinging kitchen door, Mrs. Harper said, “Holly, you’re lucky. Your husband is so helpful.” She paused. “And good looking, too.”

  He’d been mistaken for good looking before but never for husband material. A shiver ran down his spine.

  “Oh, he’s not my husband,” Holly said.

  “Well, honey, don’t let that one get away,” Mrs. Bell said.

  Jake set the dishes on the ceramic counter, then held Holly’s glass by the stem and rotated it in the light. Her fingerprints—the best way to clear her of any involvement—dotted the crystal. He slipped a napkin over the glass, then put it on top of the refrigerator and pushed it all the way back to the wall. Holly was too short to notice it there. He’d put it in his bag and take it with him early in the morning.

  Holly entered the kitchen with a stack of plates.

  “Let me help you,” Jake said as he crossed the room to her.

  “Cut the act. You’ve got them fooled, but not me.” She strutted to the sink and unloaded the dishes.

  “Let’s both cut the
act. You’ve had all day to come up with something to cover your, uh, assets, but I suggest the truth.”

  Holly turned the faucet on, then opened a bottom cabinet that hid a dishwasher. Without looking at him, she said, “What do I have to tell you to keep this quiet?”

  “Everything.” He moved to her side and leaned against the counter.

  “You’re going to have to be more specific than that,” she said as she ran water over the dirty plates.

  “Start with what you know about the dope that fell out of the dummy.”

  She whirled around at him with her finger to her lips. “Shh. I don’t want my guests to hear you.”

  Holly glared at him as she grabbed a dish towel and wiped her hands. She stomped across the room, then eased the door open. She turned back to him and blew out a breath. “They’re gone.”

  He pulled the Gazette from his back pocket and plopped it on the counter. “Here’s today’s ad, but your guests will be the least of your worries if my special edition prints tonight. I can see the headline now.” He tracked his hand from left to right, as though he were reading an invisible banner. “Holly Grove Plantation owner linked to drug trafficking.”

  Holly stared at Jake like a wide-eyed doe. “You wouldn’t?”

  “Right after I call the sheriff.”

  “Jake, you know me.”

  “Correction. Knew you. When I knew you, you didn’t have dope stuffed in your dollies.”

  “Do you think I would have taken Eudora out of the barn and put her on display if I thought she was stuffed with dope? You know I wouldn’t get mixed up in something like this. I’m the same person you left behind fifteen years ago.”

  He pointed to his chest. “I left you behind? You told me it was over. What’d you expect me to do?”

  “Exactly what you did. Leave.”

  “Did I miss something here? You’re the one who had a boyfriend as soon as my dust cleared.”

  Miss Alice burst through the swinging door. “There’s someone out in your barn with a flashlight.” Gasping for air, she held her chest. “When I called to him, he ran.”

  CHAPTER 14

  Holly followed Jake as he charged out the front door of Holly Grove. In the distance, a light flashed near the tree line. He sprinted ahead of her, past the carriage house and the barn, after the intruder.

  Gasping for air, she lagged farther and farther behind. She had run track in high school and still had her speed but not her lungs.

  By the time he reached the tree line, the light had disappeared. He bent and rested his hands on his knees.

  “Did you see him?” she said between pants as she caught up with him.

  “No.” He glanced over his shoulder at her. “By the time I got out here, he was in the woods.” Jake stood up straight and turned toward her. “You know what he was after, don’t you?”

  “Yeah,” she said, rubbing her side and wishing she were in a bad dream. Drugs at Holly Grove sounded impossible.

  “He won’t find it. But he’ll be back.” A deep line creased his brow as he stepped through the shadows to her. His eyes darkened to a dangerous black. “You’re going to tell me now exactly what is going on.”

  That look told her that if she didn’t tell him something, there would be consequences she couldn’t talk her way out of. She swallowed hard and stared at the decaying sycamore leaves beneath her feet. Should she trust him?

  “I didn’t do anything. Trouble found me this time.” She blew out a sigh. “That stuff was Burl’s. He was using Holly Grove as a front for smuggling.”

  “And you didn’t know a thing about it?” He stared at her a beat too long, as if he was trying to detect a lie.

  “I swear.” She crossed her heart, as though she were twelve, but meant it.

  “So how did you find out about his operation?”

  “I have a source that felt the need to come clean after Burl crashed.” Or risk burning for all eternity. She lifted a shoulder, then cast a downward glance. “Guilty conscience, I guess.”

  “Who’s your source?”

  She rubbed her arms against the chill and turned to head back to Holly Grove. “You’re a newspaper guy. You understand the privacy of a source, don’t you?”

  “I’ll give you that.” He paused. “For now.” Moonlight lit the grassy path as they walked. “Let’s say I believe you didn’t know. Why don’t you want to call the police?”

  She stopped short and grabbed his sleeve. “I can’t. My source says the big boss behind the smugglers has ears everywhere, even with the police. I’ve got to catch them in the act.”

  “And do what?”

  “Then I call everyone with a badge.”

  “It’s still going on?”

  She nodded. “Apparently, Burl would meet a barge on the riverbank. He’d off-load a shipment, then store the goods. Later, a contact would stay at Holly Grove and pick up the drop from Burl. My source says to expect a shipment in October so . . .”

  “Is the dope in the dummy a shipment?”

  “Nope. Just another loose end Burl left behind.”

  “Any idea who was after it?”

  “None.”

  Jake nodded. “So you’re expecting a shipment any day?”

  “Or a contact to arrive. That’s why I want you to give me the bags of dope back.”

  * * *

  Holly stood firm as Jake stared her down like she’d asked for his firstborn child. The hoot of an owl broke the silence of the night. She’d stand in the clearing till sunrise before she backed down.

  “You want me to give you the narcotics?” Jake repeated.

  “Yes.” Could she say she was afraid he’d take them and run? That the seed of doubt Burl had planted refused to die? Hardly.

  His expression hardened. “Not happening.”

  “They’re not yours.”

  “Are you saying they’re yours?”

  “No, but what if the guy who put them in Eudora comes back for them?”

  “You want to give them back to him?”

  “No, b-but I might make a deal,” she stammered, trying to think of a good reason why she had to have the bags of dope. “I could take Burl’s place.”

  Jake tilted his head and frowned, as though he hadn’t heard her right.

  “Well, not really, but I could act like I was stepping in for Burl.”

  “You want to go undercover?” Jake rubbed his hand over his forehead, like the idea gave him a headache. “On your own?”

  “Yes. Why not?” she said, though she thought the idea was a bad one, and she’d never really do it. She had to say something to get Jake to give her the bags.

  A smart-aleck smile slid across his face. “You’re joking, right?”

  “I’ve never been more serious.” She shot a searing stare his way. He had to believe her to make this work.

  “Okay.” He lifted his hands in the surrender position. “Have you thought about what would happen if a bust came down while you were pretending to take Burl’s place? How would you feel about spending the next twenty or so years in prison?”

  “But I’d explain—”

  “How? Why would they believe you? I’m going to hold on to Burl’s packages for your own safety, but I’ll make you a deal.”

  Holly folded her arms. “What now?”

  “This is a hell of a story, and you could use some help. Right?”

  “Maybe.” Definitely. But did she want to chance getting Jake mixed up in this more than he was? “It’s too dangerous.”

  “More dangerous than a tour of duty in Iraq? I’ve had a few stints as an investigative reporter, and I’m good. I can help you.”

  “I don’t want you involved.”

  “Too late. What I want is exclusive rights to the story. Sam would die a happy man if the AP picked up this one, and it’d give my career a boost.”

  “But I don’t want this story in the paper.”

  Jake shrugged. “If not me, it’ll be someone else when the bust is
made.”

  She gnawed on her bottom lip. “Can I trust you to make me and Holly Grove look innocent in your article?”

  He took her hand, and they walked toward Holly Grove. “You can trust me, period, if you’ve told me everything. All I ask is that you don’t do anything without talking to me first.” He cocked an eye at her. “Agreed?”

  The porch light at Holly Grove flashed.

  “Holly,” Miss Alice called. “Can y’all hear me?”

  Jake pulled Holly behind an oak tree and pinned her there. “Don’t answer her. Tell me you won’t do anything stupid.”

  She should push him away. She shouldn’t trust him. But she did. She wet her lips and tried to speak, but the words didn’t come. How could she swear to drag him deeper into a dangerous situation? She closed her eyes and gave the slightest nod to pacify him.

  He leaned in closer, but she dared not show her lying eyes.

  * * *

  Holly woke to an empty bed. She rubbed her hand across the pillow beside her. It had taken all her strength to pull herself away from Jake last night, but she’d managed to use good judgment, for once—with Miss Alice’s help. If she hadn’t come looking for them . . .

  Holly sat up in bed and sniffed. Bacon? Was Nelda back? Holly kicked off her covers and grabbed her robe. She ran her arms through the sleeves as she raced down the stairs.

  Rhett met her at the kitchen door, prancing from foot to foot. She pushed the door open, and Rhett ran ahead of her, sniffing the air. Red, dusty footprints trailed behind him as he trotted to a glass bowl in the middle of the room. A pentagram drawn in what looked like charcoal framed the bowl.

  What on God’s green earth . . . ?

  Holly stepped over the red dust that lined the threshold. Sand gritted under her feet as she entered the room. She squatted and touched the sand, then rubbed it between her fingers. Salt? White candles flickered in the four corners of the kitchen, and bacon sizzled in Nelda’s favorite iron skillet. She shook her head and stood. Just when I thought things couldn’t get any stranger, they do.

  The screen door squeaked, and Holly turned toward the sound. Nelda backed into the room as she poured salt from a box.

  “Nelda! What in the world are you doing?”

  Nelda screamed and waved her arms in the air as she danced around like a grown woman about to pee herself. Salt spewed from the box in swirls around her head, then peppered the floor.