Pecan Pies and Dead Guys

by Angie Fox

  Well, I’d just have to make a few new friends and show them how friendly we were around here.

  “Yikes,” a soft voice said from behind me. I turned as a tall, cute girl in flowy boho shorts and a maroon T-shirt drew up next to me. Her eyes widened as she took in the crowd. “This is the weirdest picnic I’ve ever seen. No offense,” she corrected, with a nervous glance at me, “but I feel like I came ready for ultimate Frisbee, not croquet.”

  “I don’t know if these folks have even seen a Frisbee before,” I said, hopefully putting her at ease. I held out a hand. “Hi, I’m Verity Long.”

  She shook it with a bright, relieved smile. “Zoey Lee. I thought this was a barbeque,” she said, with a distinctly Northern twang. “Hamburgers on the grill, maybe a few hot dogs,” she added longingly.

  I could understand the mistake. She wasn’t from around here. “A few quick things on the grill is a cookout,” I explained. “Barbeque is an event. Still, Virginia—as usual—has taken it to an entirely different level.”

  “Well, I suppose that explains it,” she said, clearly trying to get her head around it. “Please don’t judge me by my lack of seersucker, pastel, or flowered anything.”

  “I never would,” I vowed. “Still, you should know one thing about life in the South,” I began, and I’d tell it to her plain. “If it stands still long enough, we monogram it.”

  “Yikes,” she snorted.

  I loved being a Southern girl, but I could see how our habits might not appeal to everyone. Besides, Zoey had her own quirky style. She wore a gleaming set of thin gold bangles on her right wrist and a pair of what looked like handcrafted cat-face earrings. She let her medium-length dark hair curl naturally down her back, and compared to most of the people here, her minimal makeup was as good as no makeup at all.

  She took a sip of her white wine. “I have to admit I’m a little out of my element,” she said, scanning the crowd. “My date is off placating his mother.”

  Holy geez. “Are you with Beau?” Virginia was the only one I could think of that would pull a stunt like that at a party.

  She gave a smitten grin. “Guilty.”

  Wow. She wasn’t like any of the surgically enhanced, nipped, and tucked girls I’d seen him with since we’d broken up. She seemed nice. Wholesome. Friendly, too.

  “I’m with Ellis,” I said, watching for her reaction. If she knew the story of my past relationship with Beau, she didn’t let on.

  “Ellis…” she said, chewing on her lip, “that’s Beau’s oldest brother, right?”

  “Middle brother.” Harrison was the oldest and a chip off the Wydell block. He was a district judge, and even when I’d maintained a good relationship with the family, Harrison had still never spoken more than a dozen words to me. “Ellis is the police officer.”

  “Oh, right! My uncle was a sergeant on the force in Santa Anna. He told some great stories. I’m sure Ellis has some good ones, too.” She let out a sigh of relief. “I’m so glad I walked over to you. You looked like the only normal one.” She gasped. “I’m sorry. That came out wrong. What I meant to say is you look like my kind of people. Which is good,” she added. Color flooded her cheeks as she looked out over the garden party. “I was starting to think that my kind of people didn’t exist in this place.”

  “If it makes you feel better, I don’t know anyone, either,” I said, scanning the crowd again just to make sure. I spotted Ellis and Beau’s older brother in the distance, chatting up some of the guests. “Except for Harrison,” I said, giving in to the urge to point to the stiff, handsome man with the dark brown hair and start of a middle-aged spread. He hadn’t even looked our way. “I’m thinking these are a bunch of his out-of-town lawyer friends.” Hence the froufrou catering company. And the fact that everyone appeared to be mingling in established groups. “You know what? I’m starving,” I said to Zoey. “Want to go get some food and stake out a table for the guys?”

  Her shoulders relaxed, and her smile returned. “I do.” We started out across the yard. “Do you think we’ll stumble over any ornamental peacocks or something on the way to the buffet?”

  I laughed. “No, but don’t walk too hard on the designer grass.”

  “You’re kidding, right?” she asked, not sure, cracking us both up.

  After a trip down the buffet line, we settled at the table farthest from the crowd with plates of appetizers for us and the guys—if they ever showed up.

  Virginia had selected a Southern-style menu: mini grits and greens, fried green tomato sliders, mini buttermilk chicken and waffles, and more. It was everything you’d expect at a down-home barbeque, only a third of the size. I supposed that made it more elegant.

  “This looks amazing,” Zoey said, with the enthusiasm of a true foodie.

  “Welcome to Sugarland,” I told her.

  The food was terrific, the buttermilk chicken crispy and seasoned perfectly, the waffles hot off the grill. The baby cornbread and pulled pork didn’t hold a candle to my best friend Lauralee’s recipe, but then again, not much did.

  Zoey and I spent a few minutes taking the edge off our hunger, and I gave her points for scarfing down our local delicacies like she’d been born to it.

  “So, I hear you run a food truck,” I said. “That sounds like fun.”

  She brightened. “It is. I tested the concept in California, but I want to settle in and make a real start here. That’s the plan, at least.” Zoey put down the remains of her fried green tomato slider and wiped her hands on a fancy cloth napkin. Her nails were cut short but painted with little white and yellow daisies. “I’m still working out some of the logistical details. I designed the menu and the truck to be funky and different. You need that if you’re going to sell at the beaches in Ventura.” Her cheeks colored. “That was the plan before my old boyfriend dumped me,” she added, her embarrassment evident. “He got the condo in the split. I took my half of the equity and decided it was time to move on, do what I wanted for a change. I bought an RV, loaded my truck onto a trailer, and headed east.”

  “That’s brave of you,” I told her. Despite my very public and embarrassing breakup with Beau, I had never contemplated leaving Sugarland.

  Zoey blushed harder. “I needed a clean slate. It’s kind of weird, but until we broke up, I never realized how much of my life he controlled. Like, what we ate, where we went, even the kind of car I drove. It was all him.”

  Yikes. “That’s not good,” I said, pushing away my plate to focus on our conversation. “You need to be your own person.”

  She nodded. “I’m working on it. I was sad about him for a while, but the farther I drove, the better I felt. I explored the southwest and kept going. I liked being…free.” She shook her head as if amazed she’d done it. “It did get lonely, though. And even if I had cash from the condo, it was time to settle down and find a place to open up the truck again. Then I pulled in to Sugarland,” she said as if that were the be-all and end-all.

  In my opinion, it kind of was. “This is a good spot,” I agreed. “But why Sugarland?” I was always curious to know how outsiders saw our town.

  “The people are so nice,” she said. “I pulled into town just to get gas. And I was standing there, fighting with the gas cap. The thing never comes off right. An older woman with wild gray hair did it for me. Then she pretended it was nothing.”

  “You don’t happen to remember her name, do you?” I asked.

  “Maisie,” Zoey supplied without hesitation. “I was a little emotional about it, which actually made her grumpy at first.” She laughed. “Of course, that just made it worse. I’d been so frustrated and feeling so alone that I started crying. She didn’t know what to do.”

  That sounded like Maisie. A heart of gold buried under a pound of gruff. “She sometimes takes a bit to warm up to new people,” I explained.

  “She had baby rabbits in her truck and shoved one into my arms while my RV filled up. She said it would be good for both me and the bunny.” Zoey accepted
a water glass from a passing waiter. “Of course, now I want a bunny.”

  “How could you not?” I asked. If I didn’t have Lucy, I’d have brought home one of Maisie’s bunnies by now.

  “Maisie let me hold that little fluff of fur and love on it and snuggle.” Zoey sighed. “Then she announced I was good people, took her rabbit back, and drove away. She was like a combination of Triple-A and mobile bunny therapy.”

  “Only in Sugarland,” I told her.

  Zoey nodded in complete agreement. “Then my tablet died, but I needed to buy more credit for my phone, so I went to use a computer at the library, and this incredibly nice girl took a ton of time to help me figure out where I might be able to park my RV, where to go for food truck permits, and who could supply me if I wanted to open up the truck for a day or two. She even talked her boss into letting me park my truck in the town square, right in front of the library. Way above and beyond.” Zoey snapped her fingers. “She was super sweet. What was her name…?”

  “Melody?” I suggested.

  “Yeah, that’s the girl!”

  “That’s my sister.” That was exactly the sort of thing she did, too. Melody had half a dozen almost-degrees to her name, which came in handy at the library. She was great at research and could help people find out anything they needed to know. But what she loved, what she talked about every day, were the people she met.

  Zoey gave a rueful grin. “Small world.”

  “Small town,” I countered. “If you’re planning to stay here, you’d better get used to it. Nothing stays secret for long.”

  Zoey shrugged. “No worries. I don’t have anything to hide. I’m not that interesting.”

  If she only knew. The rumor mill would churn overtime when word got out she was dating Beau Wydell. I wanted to warn her—about that and about him. But I wasn’t sure exactly how to put it. Or if it was even my place. We’d just met, and Beau obviously hadn’t told her about me yet.

  “Melody even talked to Maisie,” Zoey was saying, “and convinced her to rent me space on her land to park my RV.”

  I snapped back to attention. “That’s great.” Maisie could use the company, and it seemed Zoey could use a friend.

  Maisie Hatcher didn’t live all that far from me. I’d helped find a small fortune that Maisie’s husband had buried right before he died, and in exchange, she’d given me a loan that helped me hold onto my house until I could pay off all of my debt to Virginia. Ellis regularly went over and did odd jobs for her as well. It sounded like we’d be seeing a lot of Zoey in the future.

  Zoey propped her chin on her hand. “Between Maisie, Melody, and Beau, I’ve got a good feeling about this town.”

  Maisie and Melody…yes. As for Beau? Well, with any luck her experience would be completely different from mine. Beau had said he wanted to change, and Zoey was a stark departure from the girls he’d dated after me.

  “Earth to Verity,” Zoey teased, and I realized I’d spaced out on her again.

  “Sorry,” I said, a little embarrassed as I reached for a sip of mint julep. “I was just thinking about the town. Sugarland is a wonderful place to live.” She seemed to fit right in. “I love your earrings, by the way.”

  “Yeah? Thanks! I know the artist. She specializes in working off pictures of people’s pets. This is my childhood cat, Moe. He was the best. He used to ride around on my shoulder like I was some kind of pirate. Do you have a pet? I could give you her name. Or you could borrow these ones next time.” Zoey’s smile abruptly fell away. “I mean if I ever see you again.” She planted her elbows on the table and leaned close. “I’m sure Beau will dump me before long. His mom hates me, and he loves his mom. She whisked him away almost as soon as we got here, and I haven’t seen him since.”

  Boy, that sounded familiar. “Give him a little more credit. Beau might surprise you.”

  Admittedly, before last month I would have said something different, but Beau really was trying to change. When we were on the Sugarland Express, he’d apologized for treating me badly, and he even apologized to my sister once we got back to town. And now he was dating a fun, wholesome girl like Zoey. “I think you’ll be good for him. He needs to learn how to lighten up.”

  Zoey smacked the table with her hand. “Oh my gosh, yes! Can you believe he only owns one pair of sneakers? And he only has that pair because I took him shopping. When I asked him what he wears on weekends, he said loafers.” She snorted. “You can’t hike in loafers. Of course, he’d never been hiking before, even though you have some amazing trails down along the river. So we got the sneakers. I’m working my way up to getting him in a pair of Crocs,” she confided, and I giggled. I couldn’t imagine Beau wearing Crocs, but if anyone could get him to do it, I’d bet Zoey could.

  “I would pay to see that,” I told her.

  “I know, right? Hey, on the subject of paying,” Zoey braided her fingers together, her hands so tight her knuckles were white. “Okay, so this is kind of a weird ask, but do you know anyone who can work a few shifts with me on the food truck? The library is right on the town square, and that’s going to be busy at lunch. I’ll be serving Thai barbecue fusion, which I know sounds strange, but I’ve got all the recipes done, and it’s completely delicious,” she assured me. “I just need someone to keep an eye on the food while I work the window. Or someone who can take over the window while I’m busy cooking. Sort of a partner in crime.”

  She made a face. “I asked Virginia, but she got offended and said she didn’t know anyone in food service.” Zoey used air quotes around the last two words. “You’d think I was asking her if she knew any good prostitutes. And Beau drew a blank. Most of the people he knows are lawyers.”

  Actually… “I know the perfect person to ask,” I said. “My best friend, Lauralee. She works at the diner and caters on the side. She knows a lot of people in the business.” She was also the mother of four boys under the age of eight, which meant her time was at a premium, but if anyone could help Zoey figure this out, it was her. “Let me give you her number.”

  “Thank you!” Zoey took her phone out of her purse and passed it to me. “Seriously, you’re a lifesaver. I was kind of regretting coming to this barbecue, but now I’m glad I did since I got to meet you. And—” She winced. “Please don’t feel obliged, but it seems like we’ve got friend potential, and I really needed a friend today.”

  Aww. “We can definitely be friends,” I said, tamping down a niggle of guilt. I’d sure like to get to know Zoey better, but I wondered if she would feel the same once Beau told her a little more about his past and my role in it. I impulsively added my number as well as Lauralee’s to her phone, then handed it back. “There. Now you can call me and let me know how things go after you chat with Lauralee. And truly, I think you’ll love Sugarland. It’s a great town. It’s just got plenty of unusual folks.”

  Frankie picked that moment to pop his head right out of the middle of the table, startling me so badly I almost knocked over my mint julep. “It’s the fuzz,” he hissed at me. “We gotta get out of here!”

  “What? Where?” I looked around but didn’t see anything.

  “Verity?” Zoey looked at me curiously. “What’s up?”

  Oh, right. She was new in town. She didn’t know about my ability to speak to ghosts. “I—um, I have to go to the bathroom,” I told her. I wasn’t ashamed of what I did for a living, but Virginia had asked me to keep a lid on it, and this wasn’t the time or place to explain it. “I’ll be back soon.” I stood and started making my way toward the house.

  Frankie darted back and forth in front of me like a moth flirting with a flame. “No, not this way, he’ll see you!”

  Yes, well, I couldn’t turn into a flickering ball of energy like Frankie could. “I’m sure he sees me anyway,” I hissed.

  I stopped short as a new spirit appeared directly in front of Frankie, blocking our way.

  “Inspector De Clercq,” I said. There was no avoiding him now.

  Chapter
5

  The inspector raised a brow and rested a hand in the pocket of his dark suit pants. He wore a matching jacket and a black hat with a brim. A pocket watch glittered on a chain over his trim midsection, and his mouth quirked under a white mustache that curled at the ends.

  “Well, hey, Inspector,” Frankie said, shimmering into view as if this were a friendly run-in, “it’s great to see you.”

  “Is it?” De Clercq asked, his words clipped.

  Yep, he wasn’t buying it.

  The sun had begun to set, casting long shadows over the yard. “Let’s find some privacy,” I suggested, easing toward a copse of trees shading a hammock. The guests at Virginia’s party didn’t need to see me talking to thin air.

  “Your need for discretion is not my problem,” De Clercq said, refusing to take his eyes off Frankie.

  Of course. The partygoers couldn’t see him, so they didn’t matter and neither did I. The inspector didn’t have much respect for the living, or for the opinions of women. And a woman ghost hunter? Well, last time I’d run into him, he’d made it clear he considered the whole idea absurd.

  “Um, hello,” a woman said, and it was at that moment I realized I stood in the middle of a circle of guests holding cocktails.

  “Excuse me.” I flushed and stepped aside.

  “This way.” Frankie glided toward the privacy of the trees.

  Saved by the ghost.

  De Clercq frowned, but he indulged us.

  “I’ve been looking for you for some time, Mr. Winkelmann,” he said, advancing until he backed the gangster up against the trunk of an old oak.

  Frankie ran a finger under his collar. “I was outta town.”

  Inspector De Clercq raised a brow. “You were seen escorting a Victorian lady to the Kitty Kat Lounge for the past three nights in a row.”

  “That’s impossible,” I said. I’d taken his urn to Ellis’s house.

  Frankie made an iffy motion with his hand. “It’s nothing,” he assured me. “Merely a small penthouse attraction that we opened in your boyfriend’s attic.” He turned to De Clercq and added, “Her man’s a cop. The lounge is part of some important police work I’m doing for the living. Research,” he stressed.