by Kitty Margo
Natalie suddenly appeared. “Irene, would you check my email for me?”
Why would she care about her email now?
Irene opened her phone. “What is your email address?”
“Natalie loves Justin Timberlake at yahoo dot com.” She glared, daring either of us to make a snide comment.
Irene pulled up Yahoo mail and asked, “What is your password?”
“Ludacris.”
“Luda who?” I ask.
She spelled it and huffed, “He’s a rapper. You probably have never heard of him. Just type the name in.”
Ignoring her you are too old to understand what rap music is attitude, Irene pulled up her account and found about 25 unopened emails, mostly promoting gadgets guaranteed to enlarge ones penis, or from men overseas promising to send her $50,000.00 for a small fee of $250.00. I wonder how many people actually fall for these scams?
After deleting most of them the door opened and Lucinda asked us to come in.
It was immediately apparent that she was not overjoyed to see us. “Unfortunately, my insurance agent cannot come to a conclusion about what happened in my parlor, so the damage from your first visit hasn’t been repaired. They don’t seem to have a malevolent entity clause.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” I said sympathetically.
She led us out back to her patio where it was scorching hot, but at least her house was out of harms way.
After we were all settled down with glasses of iced tea, Lucinda asked, “Natalie, did you enjoy your date at the Bonefish Grill?”
Natalie only looked at her, puzzled.
“He was certainly an attractive young man.”
“Who?” Natalie looked at Lucinda suspiciously.
“I don’t know his name. He’s tall, jet black hair, tanned skin, sly grin, and has a crooked front tooth that only adds character.” Lucinda looked toward the sky as though his name might materialize in the clouds. “Yet, he has the most empty coal black eyes I have ever seen.”
Natalie whispered, “Now I remember. My last meal was Bang Bang Shrimp at the Bonefish Grill.”
“Who were you with?” I asked.
“I can’t remember.” Natalie shook her head sadly. “But this has to mean something doesn’t it?”
“You’re darn right it means something.” Irene looked at Lucinda. “Was tall, dark and handsome involved in Natalie’s murder?
“I cannot be 100% sure.” Lucinda nodded her head. “But he certainly knows more about this case than he should.”
Chapter Twenty Eight
Irene
We were so glad to be home, I could have bent down and kissed the North Carolina dirt. I hadn’t seen my grandchildren in ten days and I was starting to go through withdrawal. I headed straight for the kitchen to throw a roast into the crockpot with some potatoes, carrots, and onions and invite whichever of the kids was free over for supper. I needed to break the news that I was changing jobs.
Poor Natalie. How could we help that sweet dead child? According to Trip, when he picked us up in the Walmart parking lot, the police had not come up with any new leads into their investigation. They still couldn’t positively identify the dead girl’s body, however Natalie Buchanan’s parents had reported her missing and the police were finally beginning to put two and two together.
I decided that we should start with her date since he was the last person Natalie remembered seeing. He was probably the last person to see her alive. I called Maggie to find out when she was available to do some snooping. We really needed to find out the name of the man Natalie had her final date with.”
I dialed Maggie’s number. “Are you home, yet?”
“You called my house and I answered, didn’t I?”
“Smart ass. What are you doing?”
“Trying to cook some supper and see how many children will come eat with me. I have a ham in the oven.”
I couldn’t help it. I had to ask, “Who died?”
“Nobody that I know of. I occasionally bake a ham even if someone doesn’t die. What’s up?”
“I’m worried about Natalie.” I admitted, slicing a plate of fresh tomatoes and cucumbers. “We need to solve this mystery so that child can go to the light.”
“Go to the light?” Maggie asked.
“You know that’s what they always say on TV.”
“Are you channeling the Long Island Medium now?” When I didn’t answer, she asked, “When does Barbara Jean want you to come down and check out her mansion?”
“I’m supposed to go day after tomorrow.”
***
And that was the day Barbara Jean employed me to work for her full time. Herman, a retired guitar maker from Nashville, ran a successful business, but now his sons operate it while their father travels. However, he isn’t doing much traveling now since he and Barbara Jean have become quite the item.
I listened in on their lunch conversation while he told Barbara Jean how he longed to get his hands on Willie Nelson’s guitar Trigger and patch up that big ole hole in it.
Who knew Willie Nelson’s guitar had a hole in it?
But anyway, honey, let me just tell you Barbara Jean has one more spectacular spread. She owns a horse farm and lives in a three story mansion with servant’s quarters, a ten car garage, marble foyer, stainless steel appliances with a sub zero refrigerator, and granite counter tops. I swear to you, my little double wide would fit in her bedroom.
My job is to keep her appointment schedule, check and answer her emails, order her clothes, go outside with her to check on her beloved horses, make sure she gets enough fresh air, play scrabble with her and I was quick to discover that the woman is an excellent cheater, insist that she eats a balanced diet rather than scarfing down junk food at every meal, and basically just try to keep her healthy. We go to movies, out for mani/pedis, and shopping in the more upscale boutiques when Herman is golfing.
I was thrilled when Barbara Jean agreed to let me be her chauffeur, since her driving has already added several extra gray hairs to my head, and you can believe I was positively over the moon when she and Herman announced a seven day bus tour to Niagara Falls. Then, you should have seen me doing flips across the room when they informed me that I would continue to draw my salary right on. Well, in my mind I was doing flips.
I couldn’t wait to call Maggie and have her come visit me at the horse farm while Barbara Jean and Romeo were gone. We really needed to figure out our next move.
Maggie arrived the evening after Barbara Jean and Herman’s departure, with Natalie trailing along behind her, of course. “Great day, you fell off of the redneck bus and right into the Beverly Hillbillies mansion for real.” She giggled.
“You haven’t seen anything yet. Let me show you my apartment. It has a sunken tub and a hot tub.”
“First can we go see the horses?” Natalie asked, almost jumping up and down with excitement.
“Sure, come on.” Maggie and I had learned, the hard way, that the wisest course of action was to try to keep a ghost happy. So we hopped on a golf cart and I drove down to the stables with Natalie flying along beside us.
As soon as we pulled up, all the horses started whinnying. That was unusual. They never got excited when I came around, only Barbara Jean. But they were prancing up a storm now.
When we entered the stables old Fred, who has cared for Barbara Jeans prize horses for over 30 years, commented, “I wonder what got them spooked?”
A spook perhaps?
Maggie looked at the horses. “You know it’s the dog days of summer and animals always get a little strange around this time of year.”
“That’s what the old folks say,” Fred agreed. “My grandpa always said that dogs were easy to go mad during dog days.”
“Yep, and my grandma warned us that if a mad dog bit you during dog days, you would immediately be afflicted with lockjaw.” I couldn’t help but laugh. “Have you ever actually known anyone to get lockjaw?”
“No, not once. But
as kids we were constantly being threatened with it.” Fred shook his head and chuckled. “Life moved at a slower pace back then, didn’t it?”
“It sure did.”
“I can remember walking around looking like I had the measles during the summer because grandma painted every bug bite I got with Merthiolate. She said sores would fester and not heal during dog days.”
“My grandma did the same thing.” I laughed.
“When are these dog days of summer you keep talking about?” Natalie asked.
“July and August. The hottest parts of the summer,” I answered without thinking. Fred was looking at me strangely as I carried on a conversation with a weeping willow tree. I casually turned toward him and said, “Yep, that’s when grandpa warned us to be on the lookout for snakes and mad dogs.” I must have covered my slip of the tongue pretty well because Fred went on about his business, trying to quiet the horses that definitely were not happy to have a ghost in their midst.
Maggie leaned close to my ear and whispered, “I can’t blame the horses for being skittish. Hell, I can’t get rid of this ghost no matter where I go. She even follows me to the crapper.”
“I heard that!” Natalie snapped, sounding highly offended.
“You hear it when I fart at 4:00 in the morning,” Maggie snapped back.
“4:00. Ha! You start farting the minute you go to bed and don’t stop until your feet hit the floor in the morning.”
“Well, it’s not like you have to stay there and listen you know.”
“It’s either listen to you fart all night or listen to my mama cry. She never sleeps anymore.” We heard Natalie draw a trembling breath and release it. “Maggie, I need you to go to my mama and tell her that I am okay. Tell her that I have accepted what happened and I am ready to go to the light. Tell her grandma and grandpa are waiting for me, but that I just can’t leave her alone as distressed as she is.”
Maggie’s eyes misted with tears. “You didn’t tell me your grandparents were waiting for you.”
Natalie rolled her eyes at Maggie. “I haven’t crossed over yet, you old ding bat, so how could I know? You just need to tell her a little white lie to ease her mind.”
“Are you crazy? I’m not going to have your mom thinking I can talk to dead people. She would tell somebody and then they would spread the gossip and pretty soon the entire state would know it.”
“My mom isn’t like that,” Natalie stated with an injured tone. “If you ask her not to tell something she wouldn’t dream of repeating it. Please do this for me, to ease her suffering. If she doesn’t soon get some help, I’m not sure how much longer I can refrain myself from going postal.” When she said this she closed her eyes and the lights started to flicker. Then the curtains started to flutter, and the equestrian trophies Barbara Jean’s family had won over the years began to leap from the shelves. Oh Lord, this wasn’t good. Luckily, I was standing in the doorway, so I was quick enough to catch two of them. “Stop her Maggie, before she destroys Barbara Jean’s house!”
“Okay, Natalie,” Maggie said. “Open your eyes. I will do it.”
“You will?” Natalie gave her a tremulous smile. “Thank you. Can we do it today?”
Maggie looked at me with grim determination in her eyes. “Sure. Why put it off until tomorrow when you can tell a bald faced lie today.”
Chapter Twenty Nine
Maggie
We arrived at Natalie’s parents house just before noon to find her mom still in bed. Natalie slipped inside and came back to inform us that her dad was asleep in the reclining chair in front of the TV with the midday news blasting.
After I had banged on the door for several minutes, her dad finally opened it. “Good morning, Nate. Could we please speak with you a few minutes?”
“What about, Maggie?” He yawned, rubbing his knuckles across his eyes. “I know you mean well, but I’m just not up for a visit today.”
“It’s not really a visit, Nate. It’s more like… well…” Just spit it out and don’t bother beating around the bush. “I have this… gift, or on second thought, maybe it’s more like a curse. Anyway, I didn’t know I even had it until recently.”
He was silent, looking at me like I was some kind of lunatic.
“It seems that I have the ability to talk to the dead.” When he didn’t say anything, Irene nudged me in the ribs with her bony elbow urging me to continue. “In fact, I have been talking to Natalie.”
His only response was to slam the door in my face. “Well that went exactly as planned, didn’t it?”
Evidently, the noise woke Alice because the poor thing came to the door looking like death warmed over. She nodded her head at us then glanced back at her husband, wondering why he was acting so peculiar. It was totally out of character for Nate Buchanan to be unsociable, even in times such as this. “Maggie. Irene. Thanks for stopping by.”
“You won’t thank them when you find out why they’re here,” Nate hollered from inside. “Shut the door, Alice, and don’t waste your time listening to the nonsense coming out of her mouth.”
“I’m sorry, Maggie. Nate has been under a lot of stress lately.” Alice leaned against the door for support. Bless her heart she didn’t look like she had the energy to even remain standing. “Why are you here, Maggie?”
Before I could answer, Nate called out, “That dang fool claims she can talk to the dead. Remember the police told us to be on the lookout for con artists who would try to pull a stunt like this.”
“Nate Buchanan, what has gotten in to you calling Maggie a con artist?” Alice cocked her head and looked at me funny. “He didn’t mean it, Maggie. Although I find it interesting that you can talk to those that have passed on. Who among the dead are you having these conversations with? Earl?”
Nate walked up and stood behind his wife, helping to support her weight. “She’s going to try to convince you that our Natalie is dead, Alice. Don’t listen to her.”
Alice aged ten years before my very eyes. “What makes you think my daughter is dead, Maggie?”
I could not be the one to rip the last remaining thread of hope from this dear woman by confirming that her precious daughter was dead. It just wasn’t in me.
Hudson was steady whining and trying to get out the door. “Come on, Hudson.” Natalie laughed and fell down on her knees to pet him. “Come on, boy.”
“What’s with Hudson,” Alice asked with a fond smile. “The only time he ever gets that excited is when Natalie rolls around on the ground playing with...” She stopped short and looked at me, her gaze holding mine.
“Tell mom to please take care of Hudson for me. Take him for walks, and throw sticks with him, and let him know how much I love him.”
I told Alice what Natalie had said and watched her eyes fill with tears. “Natalie would say those exact words if she could.”
“She can,” I told her gently. “Your daughter is here with us now, Alice.”
Her eyes instantly changed from caring to frigid. “Natalie is not dead, Maggie. Don’t you dare ever come around here insinuating that she is!”
“Alice, I am just trying to help you. Please, just listen to me,” I pleaded. “Natalie is standing right here beside us. She wants you to know that it’s okay to let her go.”
Alice’s eyes flashed fire when she spat, “If my daughter is really here as you claim, why can’t I see her?”
I pointed to Irene. “She can’t see Natalie either. For some unknown reason only I can see her.”
“Where is she?”
“Right beside you, mom.” Natalie reached out her hand and touched the side of her mom’s face.
Alice’s hand immediately went to her cheek and she closed her eyes, breathing deeply, enjoying the remembered caress of her daughter’s touch.
Natalie looked at me with teary eyes. “Tell my mom what I am about to tell you word for word, please.”
“Of course.”
“Mom, do you remember when I was nine and I couldn’t under
stand why I had to learn my multiplication tables. They were like a foreign language to me and the teacher said I would have to go to summer school. We didn’t tell dad because you wanted me home with you in the summer. Instead, you taught me. Remember, we had so much fun every day that summer working on my math. We multiplied everything from peas, green beans, and blackberries, to corn on the cob.”
“I remember,” Alice whispered, a soft smile curving her lips.
“Do you remember that old coon dog we had that would sit on the front porch when we were shelling peas and whine until we fed him some. You said you had never seen a dog that loved field peas like Jitterbug. Daddy finally had to fence in the garden to keep him out of the peas.”
Nate was hoping to catch me off guard. “How did we get Jitterbug, Maggie?” he asked suspiciously, not at all convinced.
I looked to Natalie for answer and repeated what she told me. “Your daughter says that y’all were driving down an old country road one Sunday when she happened to look out the window and saw a half starved dog chained to a clothesline post in the blazing sun. She shouted for you to stop the car because she had to help that poor miserable animal. So you, being the world’s greatest dad, pulled into the driveway. A man came to the door and she offered him $14.80, all the money she had in her piggy bank at home. You loaned her the money and she brought Jitterbug home.”
By this time Nate and Alice were both crying. “Where is my baby, Maggie?” Alice whispered.
“Here I am, mom. Right beside you.” Natalie was sobbing hysterically. “Can’t you feel my arms around you?”
“Natalie lives with the angels now, Alice.” I took her hands. “She just came back to say goodbye.”
Alice slumped against the doorframe as my words wrapped around her heart, refusing to let go. She could no longer deny them.
“Alice, Natalie asked me to tell you and Nate to go sit in the parlor. She will show Irene where the glasses are so she can fix some sweet tea.”
Alice was in a daze, yet still had enough good Southern manners instilled in her to mumble, “Honey, I haven’t cleaned out the fridge in days. If I have any sweet tea I’m sure it’s soured by now.”
