The muscles in Jake’s neck relaxed as he wrapped his mind around the news. “Bicycle?” That’s it. No body.
“Yeah. The boys didn’t shoot any squirrels, but they were bragging about shooting up an old bike pretty good, and their dad overheard. He’d heard Mackie was missing and knew he rode an old bike sometimes, so he called me.”
Jake stood and crossed the room. “I want to see it,” he said, snatching his jacket from a coatrack.
“Figured you would,” Sheriff Walker said.
* * *
Ten minutes later, Jake squatted on his haunches, studying the ground around Mackie’s bike on the bank of the Mississippi. Something about the whole scene felt off. “Are you sure the boys didn’t move the bike?”
“Yep,” Sheriff Walker said, leaning against a cottonwood tree.
Jake swiped his finger through the thin coat of green moss that mottled the old bike. Mackie had been missing for a few weeks. Plenty of time for moss to grow in this humidity. Plenty of time for a body to show up downriver.
Sheriff Walker flipped a small pocketknife open, then raked it under his nails. “You know he rode his bike down the levee to his place when he was drunk, don’t you?”
“Yeah,” Jake said. “Better than a DUI, right, Sheriff?”
“I gave him three before he quit driving drunk. Looks like he may have veered off the levee and landed in the river,” the sheriff said, pointing the tip of his pocketknife from the levee to the river.
Jake looked over his shoulder at the massive levee. Hardwoods, saplings, and underbrush covered a good sixty yards of the flatland at the base of the levee. Mackie rode on the top of the levee, which was at least twenty feet wide and was mowed regularly. “Even drunk, it’d be hard to run off the levee road on a bicycle, and there isn’t exactly a bike trail down here.”
The sheriff wiped his knife on his pants leg. “Maybe he had to take a leak and pushed to the river.”
“Maybe.” But why would a drunk man climb down a forty-foot levee and through the woods to take a whiz? And why was Sheriff Walker so determined to convince him that Mackie had landed in the river?
The sheriff flipped his knife closed and strode toward Jake. “The fact is nobody’s seen Mackie in weeks, and his bike is on the edge of the Big Muddy.” He stopped and shoved his knife in his pocket. “You might ought to get prepared to identify a body, son.”
“The name is Jake,” he said, pushing to his feet. If Mackie didn’t have a Purple Heart and a Navy Cross tucked away somewhere in the rubble at his trailer, Jake might believe Mackie had drowned in the river. “I don’t think you’ll find a body.”
“It’s only a matter of time before the Old Muddy coughs him up.”
“What makes you so sure Mackie is in that river?”
“Evidence.” He pointed to the bike. “And common sense.”
That was just it. Too easy. Someone wanted it to look like Mackie had landed in the Mississippi. Jake turned to the river. Sunlight bounced off the ripples and swirls as it pushed its way southward. No one questioned the power beneath the calm. Mackie knew the river better than anyone. He knew no one would question his fate with the evidence on the bank. Jake’s gut told him Mackie was alive and well. Or alive and drunk at least. But why didn’t he want to be found?
* * *
“You broke what?” Jake said into his cell phone. Leaves crunched under his feet as he hiked back to Holly Grove from the river. Did Holly say she had busted Duke’s balls? “My signal must be bad.”
“Gold Member. I need you to fix it,” Holly said.
“Fix what?” Jake stopped. Maybe he could hear better if he wasn’t tromping through the leaves.
“Never mind. Where are you?”
“I’m walking back from the river. Why?”
“I’ve got it with me. Meet me at the hangar.” The phone clicked.
Jake held the phone away from his ear and looked at it as though it could interpret what she’d said. He rolled his neck in a circle. Par for the course at the circus she called Holly Grove. At least she wasn’t wigging out about a ghost this time.
Whatever she’d broken, he could fix it. He only wished fixing the trouble at Holly Grove would be as easy.
By the time he arrived, Holly was inside the hangar. She wore the tight little jeans she’d worn the first day he saw her and a T-shirt with DOMESTIC DIVA emblazoned across the front. She paced back and forth across the concrete floor, beside a workbench.
“Hey, diva. What’s up?”
Her curls bounced when she spun in his direction. “Diva?”
Jake gave the hem of her T-shirt a playful jerk.
She pinched her shirt and pulled it out on the sides. “This is what I wear when I clean the guests’ rooms.” Her smile faded into an apologetic plea. “And that’s how I broke Duke’s, um, um . . .” Holly turned to the workbench and reached in a backpack, then pulled out two pairs of rubber gloves. She handed him a pair and put on the other pair.
“Messy job, huh?” Jake said as he took the gloves.
She blew out a heavy sigh. “You have no idea.”
“Don’t worry, sweetheart. If it can be fixed, I’ll fix it.”
“This was really, really an accident.” She folded her gloved hands, as though she were ready to say a prayer. “I would never do this on purpose.”
“Okay.” Jake shrugged. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”
She reached into the backpack. “I broke this,” she said, holding something gold and tubular.
What the . . . ? Jake eyed what looked like a gold johnson and its one detached ball. His stomach rolled. “I see.”
“It’s called Gold Member, and it was in Duke’s locked briefcase. He’s definitely kinky, but not a smuggler.” She cocked a crystal-blue eye at him. “I figured out the code without your help.”
“I see,” he said, suppressing a laugh.
Two cute creases lined Holly’s brow. “What’s so funny?”
“I’m sorry. It’s really not funny, but I did some research on Duke today. I found out he applied for a patent recently. And—”
“Oh, my.” She stared at Gold Member. “This is it.”
“Yeah, but that’s not all. He took out a fifty-thousand-dollar private loan to fund his, um”—Jake eyed Gold Member—“project.”
Her mouth gaped open. “I’m holding a fifty-thousand-dollar. . .” She gulped. “And I broke it.”
“Yep.”
“You’ve got to fix it.” Holly thrust Gold Member and its dangling part in Jake’s direction.
Jake took a step back. “Not my area of expertise.”
“But you’ve got to.”
“How about I put a new roof on Holly Grove instead?”
“Duke and Toni will be back from lunch soon, and this has to be back in its case.”
“I hate to ask, but how did you break it?”
“I didn’t technically break it. I put it on the bed, and it crawled off.”
“Hold on a minute.” Jake shook his head. “Crawled off?”
“This thing does tricks. I swear.”
“For fifty thousand dollars, it should, but how do you know?” He cocked a brow. “Did you give it a test drive?”
Pink patches stained her cheeks. “Lordy, no. I was checking to see if it was real gold that could be traded for drugs, and I accidentally turned it on. When it started moving, I dropped it.” She eased Gold Member onto the workbench like it was nitro, then took a step back. “Then Miss Alice knocked on the door. By the time I got rid of her, it had walked off the bed and busted.”
Jake laughed. “It walked?”
Holly held a finger up. “Watch this.”
She pushed a button, and it started squirming, then inched across the workbench, dragging a nut.
Watching the thing struggle sent a shiver down his back. “Okay. Can you turn it off now?”
She pushed a button, ending Gold Member’s torture and his. “You’ve got to fix it.”
&nb
sp; Jake stuffed his hands in his pockets. “When I said I could fix anything, I had no idea what I was getting into.”
“But you’ll fix it. Won’t you?”
He hesitated. It wasn’t that he wasn’t comfortable with his own equipment, but the idea of handling a replica with superpowers creeped him out.
“Come on, Jake. I don’t have fifty thousand dollars to replace it.”
“All right.” He grimaced. “You hold it down, and I’ll operate.”
“Guess I owe you one.”
“And Duke could be in debt to some shady characters who expect him to pay them back by doing them a favor.”
Holly’s eyes widened. “Like picking up drugs in his plane.”
CHAPTER 32
Holly’s fingers might as well have been crawfish claws as she tried to fit the repaired Gold Member in its case. She sat on the bed to get a better angle on the case. It would be easier if the stupid thing weren’t latched around a bedpost.
A car door slammed outside, jarring Holly to her feet. Then a second door slammed. She scampered to the balcony window of Duke and Toni’s room. Her heart hammered as Toni and Duke walked away from their red convertible rental in the driveway below. Oh, Lordy.
She looked at her watch. Twelve o’clock. What happened to their lunch in town?
Holly rushed back to the case to finish packing Gold Member into it. Finally, she clicked the latch in place. Holly hurried to the door and propped it open with a pile of towels. Nelda always said an honest housekeeper worked with the door open. At least Holly could look honest.
And look busy. She snatched the sheets off the bed and rolled them in a ball, then threw them on the floor.
Footsteps padded up the stairway. “You’re paranoid. You know that?” Toni said.
“I don’t trust nobody.” Duke’s deep voice came from the stairwell.
“It’s in a steel case locked to the freaking bed, for Christ’s sake,” Toni said.
Holly pulled a fresh set of sheets from the armoire. She grabbed the end of a sheet and popped it into the air as Duke darkened the doorway.
Duke gave her a hard glance. He didn’t smile, nod, or even grunt at her but marched straight for the briefcase. He unlocked it from the bedpost, then eyed her again. She looked away and tucked the sheet around the mattress before he could see the guilt in her eyes.
He carried the briefcase into the bathroom and slammed the door. Holly’s legs trembled under her, and she did her best to keep her hands from shaking as she finished making the bed. If he noticed anything had happened to Gold Member, she didn’t want to think about what would happen to her.
“Don’t let him get to you.” Toni propped a hip on the dressing table.
Mercy. She must have noticed my hands shaking.
“He never lets that box out of his sight.” She dug a cigarette from her purse. “We’d just sat down at Dottie’s Diner to order a burger, and he realized he’d left the box. Then boom. We had to split.”
Toni shoved off the dressing table and waved her unlit cigarette through the air as she sashayed to the balcony door, flung it open, and stepped outside. “I need a smoke. Duke drives me nuts sometimes.”
Holly sucked in a little secondhand smoke that drifted in with a cool breeze from the balcony. If her stress level didn’t drop, she might have to take up the habit.
Duke opened the bathroom door.
Holly froze. Did Jake’s repair work? Could Duke tell Gold Member had been broken?
“Where’s Toni?” Duke said, looking the room over.
“She stepped outside for a smoke,” Holly said.
“Toni,” he called, pitching his voice like the late pitch master Billy Mays.
“Give me a minute,” she yelled back. “And you need to apologize to Holly.”
“For what?” he asked.
“You acted like a barbarian,” Toni said between puffs.
“What?” he yelled back.
“You’re paranoid, that’s what.” She leaned into the room and held her cigarette behind her. “You gave her the Terminator eye because she was in the room with you-know-what. The poor girl was shaking.”
Duke looked at Holly. He held the briefcase up. “It’s not like I think you’re dishonest or nothing, but I got a lot riding on what’s in here.”
“Oh.” Holly shook her head. “I’d never tamper with any of my guests’ personal possessions.” Under normal circumstances, she wished she could add. She tucked the coverlet around the mattress, then smoothed over the wrinkles, keeping her lying eyes focused on her task.
“Yeah, but I ain’t taking no chances,” Duke said.
“You’re a barbarian,” Toni yelled as she stormed through the open French doors. She stood nose-to-nose with Duke. “That’s not an apology.”
“What? You want me to write her a letter?” Duke asked.
“Yeah, peel about twenty of them out of your wallet and leave them for a tip.”
“Just because you used to be a maid don’t mean you got to be the union boss for the maids of America.”
Holly jerked to attention. “For your information, I own this place. I clean the rooms because it’s part of running a B & B.” She looked at Toni. “Not that being a maid isn’t an honorable thing to do.”
Toni crossed the room and stood beside Holly. “It doesn’t matter. Dukie needs a lesson in how to treat women, and he’s going to apologize.” She shot a look at Duke. “Or else.”
“Or else what?”
“You know what.” Toni folded her arms over her chest.
Duke’s deep chuckle startled Holly. He dug in his pocket and pulled out a wad of bills, then peeled off a hundred-dollar bill. “You know I love it when you get all huffy, don’t you, fly baby?” He pitched the bill on the bed. “Big enough apology?”
Holly looked at the bill. “I can’t accept this.”
Toni snatched the bill from the bed. “Oh, yes you can.” She stuffed the bill in Holly’s hand. “If you don’t take this, you’re letting him get away with being a barbarian, and I’m trying to make him a gentleman.”
Holly slid the bill in her pocket. “Apology accepted.”
If she didn’t take the money, she’d never get out of there. She gathered her cleaning supplies and watched Toni slink to Duke’s side. Holly eased out of the room and closed the door behind her, but she heard Toni’s voice and leaned in to the door.
“You need to get a grip and be a gentleman. Do you remember why we’re here?”
Holly pressed her ear to the door.
Duke didn’t answer.
“Romance, Dukie. Do you see me acting all paranoid about that thing you keep locked in a box? No. Because I bought insurance.”
“That’s my million-dollar idea in there, and someone could steal it. You can’t buy insurance on an idea,” Duke said, his voice grew louder.
“No, but technically, Gold Member is mine until you pay my fifty grand back. Isn’t that right, Dukie?”
Holly gulped. Toni was the mystery financial backer?
“That’s right, fly baby, and I’ll pay back every penny as soon as the orders start rolling in.”
“So can we get back to the romance?” Toni practically purred.
Holly stepped away from the door. She’d heard enough.
Toni and Duke might be a bit on the sleazy side, but they weren’t doing anything illegal.
* * *
Nelda stood over the stove, stirring her gumbo. “Taste this,” she said, holding a spoon toward Holly.
She’d had so much of Nelda’s gumbo in the past two weeks, she really didn’t want to taste it, but refusing wouldn’t go over well with Nelda, and Holly needed a favor. She crossed the kitchen to Nelda and took the spoon. The taste that invaded her mouth was not what Holly had expected. Spicier, but not in a hot way. Fresh. Unique. “Something is different.”
“They’s good different, and they’s bad different.” Nelda shoved a hand on her hip. “Which one is it? You be honest, now.�
�
“Good different. Really good.”
“I thought so, but I done tasted gumbo so much, I lost my taster.” Nelda picked up a wooden spoon from the spoon rest, then stirred the gumbo. “Glad you still got yours.”
Holly smacked her lips. “If I can’t cook, the least I can do is taste. What did you add?”
“Secret weapon.” Nelda rapped her wooden spoon on the side of the gumbo pot, then set it on the spoon rest. “I heard Estelle over at Goutreaux Plantation had the jump on me yesterday in the cookin’ contest. I needed to kick it up a notch, like Emeril says.”
Holly dropped her spoon and a mixing bowl in the dishwater, which sloshed on her DOMESTIC DIVA T-shirt. Well, crapola.
Miss Alice pushed through the kitchen door, like she did countless times a day. It was as though she had a sixth sense about where Holly was at all times. Miss Alice pointed a wrinkled finger at Holly. “What happened to your shirt?”
Holly looked down at her wet right boob. “Dishwashing mishap.”
“Don’t you own an apron?” Miss Alice shook her head. She pushed the swinging door back toward the foyer, then stuck her head out. “Come on in. I found her.”
Nelda grabbed her chest. “Kingdom come. It’s her.”
In walked Angelina Jolie—or she could be. The model-perfect woman stood nearly six feet tall, had Miss Clairol dark waves, and wore shoes that probably cost ten times more than Holly’s entire domestic diva outfit. The woman’s pink lips parted in a fake TV smile as she extended her French-manicured hand. “Sylvia Martin. Inquiring Minds.”
“Welcome to Holly Grove.” Holly wiped her wet hand over her jeans and then shook Sylvia’s cool hand. Holly had to look up to make eye contact and wished she’d worn heels, not that it would make her equal to Sylvia in any way.
Sylvia didn’t attempt eye contact. Her gaze darted from the pentagram to the candles and to Nelda. Holly had gotten used to the voodoo decor Nelda had added to armor the kitchen, but it had Sylvia’s attention.
Sylvia’s high-dollar heels clicked as she walked along the edges of the pentagram and studied its form. “Great visual. My producer will love this.”
Nelda wiped her hands on her apron and crossed the pentagram to Sylvia. “I watch your show every Sunday night,” she gushed with an ear-to-ear smile, then shook Sylvia’s hand with too much gusto. “You look just like you do on TV, ’cept skinnier in person.”
Better Dead Page 22
