Pecan Pies and Dead Guys

by Angie Fox

  “That’s it,” Frankie said, with the certainty of a man. “It looks old-timey, it covers most of you, and the skirt’s got enough give so you can run if you need to.”

  “Good point.” I clutched the hanger tighter. “I hadn’t even considered that I might need to run.”

  He shrugged as if it was nothing. “You’re not the first moll I’ve used to help with a job,” he said with a smirk.

  “I’m not your moll,” I said, not even sure what that was. If Frankie hung with them, they weren’t nice ladies. “I’ll try it on. Now I need a mask.”

  “And some jewelry.”

  “If I can afford it,” I said, closing the dressing room curtain behind me.

  “You know the other girls will be wearing it,” his voice warned.

  “Fine. Some costume jewelry,” I said, slipping my sundress over my head.

  Some very cheap costume jewelry.

  The dress fit. I wore it out of the dressing room and went to select accessories. There were masks in the back of the shop, leftovers from last Halloween. I found one that was a simple cat’s-eye edged with metallic beads and a few peacock feathers, then stood in front of a long mirror at the back.

  The effect was…not bad. I didn’t look like anybody’s idea of royalty, but I didn’t look like myself either, which was the important thing.

  Frankie hovered behind me, grinning. “I like when a plan starts coming together.”

  “It’s a start,” I agreed.

  The front counter had a decent selection of costume jewelry in it. I counted my cash and ended up springing for a matching set of huge fake pearl earrings and a necklace. They were ridiculous, but they were cheap.

  “This looks like fun,” Dani said with a smile as she rang up my purchases. “Are you going to a party here in town?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Huh, you’re the only person who’s come in looking for a costume recently.” She took my two twenties and slowly set about making some change. My phone buzzed in my purse, but I ignored it. “Where is it?”

  “It’s, um…” It’s a party for dead people only and I’m doing my best to sneak into it so the ghosts don’t recognize me. “It’s not for a while yet, but I like to be prepared.”

  “Smart,” she said with a nod. “You get the best pick of the clothes that way.” She handed over my change and my receipt. “Thanks for visiting and come back soon!”

  “Oh, I will.” I’d try to sell back the dress and jewelry, assuming they survived the night. Dani paid twenty percent on all return merchandise in good condition. “Thanks.”

  I checked my phone in the car and groaned. Three new texts from Beau, each one progressively more demanding. He was more like his mother than he realized. On my way, I messaged before slipping my phone into my pocket.

  Frankie stood on the curb, staring a hole in my back as I dug in my purse for my car keys.

  “Seriously? We’re working on a huge case at the Adair mansion and you’re going to visit your ex-boyfriend? I don’t get to see Molly.”

  And I didn’t get to see Ellis. “Frankie,” I began, opening the car door and slipping inside, “we have two hours until sundown when the party starts. We can do this and still be good for the Adairs’.”

  He materialized in the passenger seat, frowning. “Just so long as you don’t forget what’s at stake here.”

  My home was not my home anymore. How could I forget?

  “I’m aware of what we have to do,” I said, pulling away from the curb, heading for the north side of town. “This is also something I said I’d do.”

  The ghost stuck his hand through the closed window to catch the breeze. “Some promises are made to be broken,” he mused.

  “Not by me,” I reminded him.

  Although, truthfully, I almost agreed with him on this one. Handling Beau was the last thing I wanted to be doing. But I had to keep the bigger picture in mind. Assuming everything came together at the masquerade tonight—and I desperately needed to believe that it would—then apart from the mystery pies, the only thing left hanging over my head would be Virginia’s promise to return my grandmother’s necklace. In order for that to happen, I had to convince Beau to go back to working at the law firm. I didn’t want to throw that chance away just because I was stressed over keeping my house. I had the time. I had the opportunity. I’d follow through. I’d go and see Beau and do my best to get him to go about his artwork a little more…reasonably.

  The barn he was renting was on a local soybean farmer’s property, at the first turnoff beside a dirt road that ran the length of the farmer’s fields. The barn itself was rather pretty. It had a timber frame and gambrel roof painted bright red with white trim. Beau’s silver BMW coupe was parked outside it, and the double doors were thrown wide open.

  By the time I’d turned my engine off, Beau was at my door. He appeared almost unrecognizable in a paint-splattered T-shirt and jeans, and were those Crocs on his feet? Yes, they were. Neon green ones at that. Zoey had clearly made an impact on him.

  “Finally,” he exclaimed as I got out of the car. “I’ve been waiting for you all day. Where have you been?”

  “I’m sorry for making you wait, but I had a few important things come up.” Like a stalker pie and a ghost incursion. “I’m here now, though,” I added cheerfully. “Give me the grand tour.”

  “You’re gonna regret asking for that,” Frankie muttered from behind me as Beau reached out and took my hand. I immediately tried to pull it back, but he held on and turned toward the barn.

  “Let me lead you inside. It’s best if you close your eyes until you’re in the middle of the exhibit,” he said by way of explanation. “I want you to get the full, visceral experience. I can’t wait to see what you think of it.”

  I sighed quietly but allowed him to guide me in, carefully turning me in places until I finally came to a stop on a concrete floor. Beau let go of my hand, and I heard him take a few paces back. “Okay…open your eyes!”

  I did. I blinked twice and stifled a gasp.

  I stood in the middle of a bevy of sculptures as large as I was, all of them tall, bright, and hideous enough to give me nightmares. A metal lady—painted yellow except for oversized hot pink lips—rose out of a bucket filled with empty dish soap bottles. Then there was one that could have been a bird or perhaps even a spider, made from repurposed rebar with chunks of concrete still clinging to it. Beau could still be cleaning that one, or maybe the odd bits of concrete were part of the art. The one right in front of me was particularly confusing, and to be honest, it made me a bit uncomfortable. Beau’s basic metal frame hung with multicolored rags twisted together and weighed down at the end with what appeared to decapitated doll heads.

  I’d know. I’d seen a whole fountain full of them on one of my last adventures.

  These heads were wearing dunce caps in midnight blue, painted with melting stars.

  “Ahh…” I began, trying to take it all in.

  “Ain’t there a book out there that describes all the levels of Hell?” Frankie asked. “Do you think this is one of them?” He gave a visible shudder. “I’m outta here. I’ll wait in the car.”

  Lucky.

  Beau stared at me expectantly.

  “Wow,” I finally said. “It’s so…gosh, I don’t even know. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like it before.”

  “I know! They’re completely unique! I added a gothic flair to this one.” He pointed to the questionable masterpiece directly in front of me, practically bursting with pride. “All the fabric comes from the Armani suit my mother bought me last Christmas. Zoey recorded me ripping it to shreds,” he added, with relish. “She thinks it’ll be great advertising, kind of like a multimedia piece. Me interacting with my art. The heads represent the poor office drones who are never strong enough to break free of the golden handcuffs that bind them to the humdrum life of money and expectation.”

  I still couldn’t get over the first part of his explanat
ion. “You ripped up your Armani suit?”

  “It felt so good.” Beau grinned at me. “I’m totally over my obsession with material things. So, you like it? I was thinking of setting my asking price at ten grand.”

  For someone who claimed not to care about material possessions, that was an incredibly high price for what amounted to a freaky scarecrow. “I think it’s important to see what the market will bear,” I extemporized, easing myself out of the circle of awfulness, careful not to catch my sundress on the tower of tin cans with arms. “It might be smart to start a little lower.”

  Beau crossed his arms as he stared at the sculpture. “You think? Because if I’m going to make as much with this as I did before, I figure that’s already on the low end of the scale.”

  Oh my god. And people thought I was crazy.

  Worse, I didn’t know how I was going to talk him out of this. He was not only drinking the Kool-Aid, but he’d also bought the giant jug that busted through walls.

  “When it comes down to practicalities, I think maybe—” A picture taped to the side of the barn caught my eye, and I walked over to get a closer look. “Oh.” It was Zoey’s food truck, in black and white, with Zoey at the counter and two of the library staff chatting and eating in front of it. “Wow.” The picture had a liveliness to it, a composition that drew the eye and made me wish I could step into it and join them. “This is a great photograph.” I looked back at Beau. “Did you take this?”

  He stepped closer to me and shrugged. “Yeah. Just for inspiration purposes. I mean, I’ve got to remember to put the Southern into my Southern eclectic style, right? So I took these to provide reminders.”

  These? There were more of them? I looked down the wall and, yes, there were, and they were all exceptional. Here was a shot of the diner teeming with customers and two servers with full trays. There was a picture of one of the benches in front of the ice cream shop, with a little girl in a ruffled dress sitting on it and barely hanging on to her enormous waffle cone. There was even one of the exterior of his parents’ house, and he’d somehow managed to make it look both elegant and inviting.

  “These are fantastic,” I said, one hundred percent honest this time. They were gorgeous. Inspired, even. I waved a hand at the nearest one, a shot of the barn before he’d moved his stuff in, if the tractor sitting inside it was any indication. “Beau, these should be your art!”

  “These?” He appeared dumbfounded for a second, then shook his head. “No, these are just—they’re photographs. Anybody can snap a picture with a camera. What I’m doing with my sculptures is a unique expression of my inner self.”

  He’d been hanging out with Zoey too much.

  “This look at Sugarland is unique too,” I insisted. “These pictures capture the reality of living in a small Southern town, and they do it beautifully. I think people would jump all over prints of these.”

  Beau smiled softly. “You’re so supportive of me. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate that. But trust me—I’ve found my niche.” His look became more calculating. “If you truly want to help out, you could call your dealer friend in New York for me and set up a meeting.”

  Of course, he knew I was talking to EJ. Who didn’t know all my business in Sugarland? “I don’t think I can do that.”

  I saw hints of the old lawyer flicker across his features. “You could do it if you wanted to.”

  “I don’t have that kind of relationship with Ms. Adair,” I said firmly.

  “We’ll see,” he said. “Or maybe I’ll make my own way like you did.” He winked at me, like the Beau of old. “Admit it, you’re impressed with me now.”

  I was, but for all the wrong reasons. “I’d be more impressed if you were a lawyer.”

  “No, you wouldn’t.”

  He had me.

  “You’re right, I wouldn’t,” I admitted. “But I want you to think carefully about this and take the time to decide what’s right for you. Part of taking your time is making sure you can take care of yourself before you jump headlong into something new. You could consider working at least part-time at the law firm until you’ve established yourself as an artist.”

  Beau shook his head. “You don’t really believe that. You never take anything slow. Just—just trust me, Verity. Okay?” He stepped a little closer, and in the glowing light of the evening sun, his hair looked like it could have been spun out of gold. He gazed at me softly, affectionately, and I gulped. That was not a look I wanted to see on his face. “I can do this. I believe in myself. I want you to believe in me too. It would—it would mean a lot to me.”

  Oh no. “Beau, listen—”

  “Beau?”

  The unwelcome tension between us broke as Zoey entered the barn, a smile on her face that turned to a look of confusion. “Verity,” she said, trying to summon up some enthusiasm and failing. “You finally made it.”

  I stepped back quickly, even though I had nothing to feel guilty about. “I was just leaving.”

  “Do you have to?” Beau sounded disappointed. “Because I was thinking the three of us could get dinner.”

  “I’ve got plans, sorry.” I nodded at Zoey as I passed her. She looked cute today in a floral romper and strappy sandals, her long black hair in a loose, casual braid. “You guys have fun. It’s nice to see you again.”

  “Let me walk you out.” Zoey fell into step with me but kept a few feet of distance between us.

  I welcomed the bright sunshine, and the sight of my car.

  “Hey, Verity,” Zoey said, keeping pace. “Um…sorry if this is a weird question, but I have to ask.”

  I stopped, and she turned to face me.

  “I get the feeling that whatever happened with you and Beau, it isn’t over.”

  “It is done,” I assured her. “I’m sorry if that looked strange back there, but things are definitely over between Beau and me. I’m happy with Ellis.” So much happier, I couldn’t even describe it without offending her.

  “Are you serious?” She sounded dubious. “Because that’s not what I’m seeing.”

  Oh no. I could see why she thought that—it had been weird at the end there in the barn—but she was so wrong. “I promise you, I am not and will never be after Beau,” I told her. “He’s much better off with you, believe me.”

  “Okay.” Zoey smiled, but it didn’t seem like her heart was in it. “Drive safe.”

  “I will.” I got into the car and suppressed a groan. Great, at this rate not only would I never get my necklace back, I was also messing up the only good thing Beau had going for him.

  Zoey was a sweet girl. Maybe she should work more on her food truck and less on turning Beau into a bad artist, but she was a good person and she cared about him. I’d have to figure out a way to be kind to him and to her at the same time.

  The sun hung low in the sky. We had maybe an hour left before sunset and the start of the final party at the Adairs’.

  I was almost looking forward to it now. Playing hide-and-seek with an angry ghost was preferable to spending another second feeding Beau’s artistic delusions and making Zoey worry. I buckled my seatbelt and turned to Frankie. “Are you ready to catch a killer?”

  “I was born ready,” he vowed. “Let’s nab that wiseguy and show the inspector what we can do, right?”

  “Right,” I said, adjusting my grip on the wheel.

  I admired his confidence. I felt good, ready.

  I only hoped we could pull it off.

  Chapter 19

  The sun wasn’t close enough to the horizon for me to head to the party yet. The last thing I wanted to do was arrive early and attract attention.

  Frankie had vanished into the ether after he realized we had some time to burn. The ether was an in-between realm that seemed to relax him. The gangster didn’t have to worry about preparing for our next move. I, on the other hand, needed a place to change into my dress and get ready for the night ahead.

  To that end, I pulled into Judson’s Last Stop near the
old highway, about a mile off the new one. Lauralee joked that the place had stood there since the founding of Sugarland. And while her observation was good for a laugh, it didn’t seem too far from the truth.

  The well-worn, well-loved station had been owned by the Judsons going back to at least my great-grandparents’ generation. They were a tradition in this town, and even though the highway had been rerouted twenty years ago, they never lacked for business. The newest patriarch, Josephus Judson, was in his seventies if he was a day, and he’d taken over from his daddy only about ten years ago.

  I had a soft spot for him because he had loved my grandmother like a sister, and his station had a bathroom that didn’t require you to make a purchase in order to use it.

  I bundled my costume over my arm and headed inside. “Hi there, Mr. Judson,” I said with a wave. The door chime gave a belated ding as I made my way past three rows of chips toward the corner with the restrooms.

  “Good of you to stop in.” He waved back but didn’t look up from the little TV in the checkout stand, where he was watching a game, if the cheers were anything to go by.

  The ladies’ room was a single-stall affair, which was nice—more space for me to change. The fluorescent light flickered overhead. I locked the door and shimmied out of my sundress. I kept my sandals on and was pulling the gown up when my cell phone rang. I hitched the dress up over my shoulders and let it hang unzipped as I checked the caller ID. It was EJ.

  “Hi,” I said, glad to hear from her. “I just picked up your package and the key. Thanks again for sending them.” In fact, the flat FedEx envelope was still in my bag. I hadn’t even opened it in all the excitement.

  “Oh, good.” She paused. “I wanted to thank you for emailing those pictures of the house. I have them up on my computer right now. I…” she trailed off. “It’s thrilling to see, and a little sad. Things have gotten a bit run-down, haven’t they?”

  “The years will do that,” I agreed. “It’s still a wonderful old place,” I assured her, digging a finger under the seal of the envelope she’d sent.