Rest Stop (Peri Jean Mace Ghost Thrillers Book 4)
Page 4
The black opal sent a little shock of magic into my skin as though saying, “Yeah, I made that happen for you.”
But the black opal didn’t do it all by itself. My work with Mysti, learning from her, changed the game. Changed me. Mysti kept telling me practice would awaken more magic than I ever imagined I had. Hearing the doorbell, such a small thing, proved her right.
What else lay under the surface? Only miles traveled on this road would tell me. The important thing was I could. For all the things I failed at, I could get good at this with some effort.
Now concentrate, idiot. So I did, with joy. I made the inside of the snow globe my whole world.
Footsteps pounded upstairs. A tiny version of Susie, her blond hair shining in the light, appeared at the top of the staircase I’d so admired earlier in the day. She started down the staircase, and my consciousness sank into her, seeing the world through her eyes.
Susie’s pale, freckled hand gripped the bannister, and I felt the cool wood sliding beneath her palm. I felt her excitement about whoever might be at the door. I couldn’t exactly read her mind, but I read her emotions, and they were the ones most girls feel over some undeserving guy. She stopped to look in a mirror mounted on the wall, pushing her hair behind her ears and checking her teeth for food. She went to the door and opened it. Her bowels went loose as soon as she saw who was there.
The woman’s dark blond hair hung in sloppy disarray, and she had a food stain on her shirt. She slammed one hand into Susie’s chest and shoved her way inside.
Susie’s scalp tingled, and she raised her arms to protect herself. My fighting instinct took over, and I tried to curl Susie’s hands into fists, to help her bloody this bitch’s nose. Susie’s hands stayed splayed open in front of her while the woman screamed in her face.
I strained to hear the words the other woman said, but apparently I still had a lot to learn about doing this kind of thing. The fury contorting her face told me a good bit about her words. A plain gold band flashed on her third finger as she raised her left hand and slapped Susie’s face. She grabbed Susie’s shirt, yanking her close, saliva frothing at the corners of her mouth as she raved.
Suddenly, the woman let go of Susie and turned away from her, bending at her waist. I couldn’t see anything Susie didn’t see, and it seemed to take her forever to turn her gaze to whatever interrupted the confrontation. Susie’s attacker knelt on the floor next to a crying toddler. She stroked the child’s hair, trying to smile and say soothing words. The child held out his arms, and the crazy woman scooped him up and carried him toward the front door. She turned back to glare at Susie and spoke three words, her teeth bared like an animal’s. I didn’t hear her words, but what she said was impossible to mistake.
This isn’t over.
Some force jerked me out of Susie’s body, turning my stomach upside down in the process. The vision around me brightened then faded like a magazine left too long in the hot Texas sun.
I came to, slumped on the wooden planks of the porch floor. At my back I heard Margaret’s high, panicked voice.
“I don’t know, Griff. She slumped over on the floor. I checked her pulse, and she’s still alive, but not moving.”
I struggled to my knees and put one arm on the porch swing so I could push myself up.
“I’m all right, Mrs. Franklin.”
Margaret’s mouth dropped open. “She’s up. Says she’s all right.” She listened for a second. “Okay. I’ll tell her.”
“Griff and Mysti are coming to pick you up. They said to stay put.”
It couldn’t have taken more than ten minutes for Griff and Mysti to drive up in Griff’s SUV, but it seemed like ten hours. Margaret, in full mother mode, offered me everything from hot chocolate to Vicodin. I accepted a glass of cold water to get her to go in the house and leave me alone to think.
I had a fair idea who attacked Susie at her home, but I didn’t want to repeat myself. My jaunt as Susie’s silent shadow cost me a lot of energy. I felt as drained as if I’d spent the day mowing lawns in hundred-degree heat.
Griff’s SUV finally appeared at the curb. Mysti barely let the SUV roll to a stop before she vaulted out. She’d traded her sexy black nightie for the clothes she’d worn all day. Mouth set in a grim line and hands curled into loose fists, she marched toward me like someone going to war. Griff hurried after her, his messenger bag at his side.
“You saw something.” Mysti squinted at me and sniffed the air. She leaned down and sniffed at me. “What kind of perfume are you wearing?”
“I don’t wear perfume.” I recoiled from Mysti, wanting to shove her away but not quite daring.
“I know.” She turned to Griff. “Have you ever smelled this before? There’s something familiar about it.”
Griff leaned down to sniff me. “I don’t even smell what you’re talking about.”
Margaret came close and sniffed me. She gasped. “That’s Susie’s perfume. Love’s Baby Soft. I’ll never forget the smell.” Her gaze moved from my face to Mysti’s. “But I threw out every bottle after Susie wasn’t here anymore. Couldn’t stand it.”
“Mrs. Franklin—” I began.
“Oh, call me Margaret, hon.”
“Margaret, do you have lawn chairs where Mysti and Griff can sit? Or would you like to go inside?”
“There’s two folding chairs leaning against the railing.” She pointed.
Griff got both chairs and set them up. He and Mysti sat.
I told them what I saw through Susie’s eyes, every detail I could remember.
“What did the woman say?” Griff held out his recorder to me.
“Peri Jean doesn’t hear their voices,” Mysti said. “Her gift doesn’t work that way.”
“No, I still don’t hear words, but I heard the doorbell this time.” I searched for Mysti’s gaze, eager to see her reaction.
“Oooh, really?” Mysti sat a little straighter. “So what else did you—”
Griff gave her a gentle tap on the shoulder and glared at her.
She gave me a nod and mouthed, Later.
“Well, what did the woman look like?” Margaret’s brow furrowed. She probably wanted to get back to talking about her daughter—the reason she hired us.
“She had a full head of hair. It was the kind of blond that’s really just blond on the ends. There’s a lot of darker hair mixed in.” I closed my eyes. The woman’s anger kept me from accurately describing her face. “Good figure. Nice boobs. But she wasn’t very well put together. Her pants were old, and she had a food stain on her shirt.”
“But she wasn’t a kid, like someone from Susie’s class,” Mysti said.
Slowly, I shook my head.
“Just a minute. I’ll be right back.” Margaret got up and went inside the house, closing the door behind her.
“I’m sorry,” I said to both Griff and Mysti. “I found this snow globe in the sack Margaret gave us. She didn’t mention it, and I wanted to see why she included it.”
“Any break’s a good break,” Griff said.
Mysti stared at me, no longer really angry but definitely put out at having her romantic evening ruined.
Margaret came back out of the house holding a thin book. She flipped a light switch just inside the door and the lights on either side of the front door and an overhead light blazed to life. Now I could see the book was a school yearbook from 1978.
“I had to look through a couple to find what I was looking for, but I knew I remembered this picture.” She flipped to a marked page and showed us a black and white photo of an adult couple posing in front of a display reading Senior Prom 1978. Both wore broad, joking smiles. The first thing I noticed on the woman was her huge, pregnant belly. I took the book from Margaret and held it close to my face. Now I recognized the square jaw and the Nordic cheekbones.
“It’s her.” I kept the book. “This must be Coach Bobby John?”
Margaret frowned and nodded. I took in Susie’s love interest. I could see the attr
action, especially for a teenage girl. Twenty-five-years-old, tops. Full lips and heavy brows. And those smoldering eyes.
Dark and brooding, there was some sexy mystery there, the kind a teenage girl couldn’t resist. She’d be the one to take away whatever haunted this man. She’d be the one to uncover his mysteries. She’d be the last one he admired. But it never turned out just so. Guys like that got all the pussy in the world, and Susie Franklin would have been disposable to him, a fancy he may not have indulged with five more year’s wisdom under his belt.
I turned my attention again to Coach Bobby John’s wife, imagined her with a couple more years on her and the added fatigue of child rearing. Then I imagined how she’d look if she were a wife whose husband was having an affair with a teenager in a town where she was, for all intents and purposes, an outsider. Her behavior, while wildly inappropriate, wasn’t unjustified. There was no way I’d share my thoughts with Margaret sitting right there, so I said the next thing I thought of.
“Yeah, this is the woman I saw in my vision.” I stared at the picture some more. “There’s something familiar about her.”
“Y’all said you went out to supper tonight. Any chance you ate at Family Home Cooking?” The expression on Margaret’s face suggested she’d rather eat roadkill than dine at Family Home Cooking.
“We did,” Griff answered.
“Jacqueline Culpepper works there. Both she and her youngest daughter.”
I recalled our nasty spirited waitress and glanced down at the yearbook in my lap.
“She’s changed a lot, ain’t she?” A spiteful smile stretched across Margaret’s face.
I snorted. Saying Jacqueline Culpepper had changed over the last thirty years was a gross understatement. Barely a shred of the woman who’d hugged her handsome husband and laughed in front of the Prom 1978 sign remained.
“Being married to Bobby John Culpepper couldn’t have been easy. Susie might have been the first, but from what I heard she was far from the last.” Margaret took the yearbook from me and held the book to her chest. “Do you think the Culpeppers killed my Susie?”
“All I can tell you for sure is Jacqueline Culpepper didn’t mortally wound Susie in my vision.” I took a deep breath. “She slapped her, twice.”
Margaret flinched at the information. I glanced at Mysti, and she gave me a head shake. I nodded my understanding. I wouldn’t say any more.
“I planned for us to go see the Culpeppers tomorrow.” Griff turned off his tape recorder. “The address I have for them is 365 Ingram Street. Still correct?”
“They’re still there.” Margaret covered her mouth to yawn.
“We’ll be getting out of your hair, ma’am.” Mysti stood and grabbed my arm, giving me a hard jerk. “I apologize for Peri Jean disturbing you. She’s new to this, and she gets excited.”
“Don’t apologize, please. This lets me know for sure y’all are working on Susie’s case. For the first time in a long time, I feel hope.”
We said our goodbyes. I tried to get into the SUV with Griff, but Mysti beckoned me to ride with her. I plodded to her Toyota and got into the passenger side, priming myself for my slap on the wrist.
“I’m sorry, Mysti. I did the wrong thing.”
“Whether you did or not, she loved it.” Mysti pulled the car away from the curb, following Griff down the street. “The snow globe wasn’t in the bag when we left Margaret’s house. It wasn’t there when I started getting ready to spend time with Griff. When did it get there? And how?”
“I can only guess Susie put it there.”
“I don’t understand how,” Mysti muttered the words almost to herself. Then she turned to me. “You started giving Margaret details on the scuffle. I stopped you because the less she knows, the better. Now I want to know what you think. Did Jacqueline Culpepper kill Susie?”
“Not right then.” The memory of the last words Jacqueline said to Susie came to me. I almost forgot them, getting yanked out of the vision so fast. “Jacqueline’s child interrupted the fight, and she left. But as she was leaving she said something to Susie, and I read her lips.”
“What was it?” Mysti cruised behind Griff’s taillights, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel.
“‘This isn’t over.’”
Mysti pulled into the parking place I’d vacated what seemed like an eternity ago. She turned to me. “Bitch was right. It ain’t over.”
The Culpeppers lived a little way out of town. As soon as we turned onto Ingram Street, we passed a faded sign telling us we were entering Bonaventure Estates, a village of deed restricted ranchettes. The ranchettes consisted of oversized lots with cookie cutter brick ranch homes on them. Griff cruised down the narrow road, slowing nearly to a crawl at curves because there wasn’t enough room for two vehicles to pass.
“I don’t see house numbers.” Mysti leaned forward, squinting at the houses.
“Bet this is them.” I pointed several houses down where a sign reading “The Culpepper Team” graced the front yard.
Griff pulled into the driveway and parked behind a behemoth Ford pickup truck. He cut the engine and glanced first at me, then at Mysti.
“The Culpeppers don’t want to meet with us, so be ready for anything.”
“Are we dropping in on them?” I glanced around the yard, halfway expecting to see armed garden gnomes gearing up to run us off.
“Nope. I threatened to get a journalist friend of mine to revive the Susie Franklin story with special attention to her claims of inappropriate behavior from the coach.” Griff’s eyes gleamed like polished steel. I got the feeling he enjoyed this part of his job.
“You’re ruthless.” Mysti patted his arm and got out of the SUV. I followed behind her, and Griff brought up the rear. This time Mysti knocked on the door.
Miss Meanypants from the diner, also known as Jacqueline Culpepper, answered. The lines around her mouth deepened.
“Reed Investigations.” Mysti gave her a sugary smile. “I believe we have an appointment.”
“It would be you three.” Jacqueline held open the door and stepped aside to let us pass. Walking past her made my skin and muscles tighten as though expecting attack. “Go on into the living room. Bobby John’s waiting in there.”
I felt my eyes widen at the sight of Coach Bobby John Culpepper. The trim guy I saw in the yearbook picture from 1978 took up most of a full sized couch. He sat spraddle-legged, a big red, plastic glass clutched in one bloated hand. The slow, mysterious eyes hid in the folds of fat smothering his handsome features. Some folks aged well. Bobby John wasn’t one of them.
“Y’all can sit on the hearth.” Jacqueline flopped into a leather recliner, which protested with a squeal of un-oiled metal.
Mysti, Griff, and I crowded onto the requisite 80s cream and tan brick fireplace facade, squishing ourselves together so tight I smelled the dry spiciness of Griff’s cigarillos.
“First thing I want to say is the three of you young people ought to be ashamed for threatening Mrs. Culpepper and myself in order to get us to speak to you.” Bobby John rested his dark scowl on each of us in turn. “Susie Franklin’s disappearance rocked this community, created a lot of sadness. Decent folk would let it fade into the past.”
“Margaret Franklin hired us, sir.” Griff opened his messenger bag and took out his recorder.
“No. Nuh-uh.” Jacqueline leapt from her chair and pointed a finger at Griff like he was a little, yappy dog squatting to soil her ugly tan carpet. “We don’t agree to having our statement recorded.”
“Ma’am, neither I nor these two ladies are affiliated with official law enforcement. This is not a statement.” Griff paused to let his words sink in. “This is nothing more than a conversation. Susie Franklin’s mother wants some closure.”
“The mother’s as bad as the daughter, you ask me.” Jacqueline Culpepper returned to her squeaky recliner and sat back down, staying near the edge of the seat, maybe in case she had to jump up and point her finger again.
“I’d have better sense than to believe it.” Jacqueline crossed her arms over her chest.
“You would not,” Bobby John shot back. Jacqueline waved off her husband and turned to us.
“You have to understand, Susie’s accusations hurt us in the community. Bobby John almost lost his coaching job. We had to take our oldest son out of preschool because the woman running it refused to let him come there.” Her nostrils flared, and her eyes narrowed at the injustice. “It was an awful time.”
“It was a sad time.” Coach Bobby John contemplated his wife with a downturned mouth. “It disrupted a lot of good kids’ senior year of high school, derailed the football program for the year, and took the focus off learning.” He shook his head sadly. “The backlash from it hurt Susie Franklin so much. Despite what she said about me, I cared about her. She was a good student and a good athlete.”
I had to hand it to Coach Bobby John. Had I not seen the vision in the snow globe, I might have believed the slimy toad. Had Susie been lying? All I really saw was Jacqueline acting inappropriately. From what I’d seen of her, the behavior could have been an everyday loss of reason.
“A lot of the girls had crushes on Coach Bobby John.” Jacqueline glanced at her husband. “He’s still handsome, but back then he was something else.”
“I know you’re telling the truth. I saw a picture of him in a yearbook from ’78.” I smiled at Coach Bobby John. He waved me off, chuckling, but sat up as straight as his bulk would allow.
Jacqueline glanced from me to her husband. Her cheeks flushed into red blotches, and her mouth curved into a sneer, which she aimed at me. The heat of her anger reached me from across the room. I turned my gaze to my feet. Did she actually think I was coming on to Coach Bobby John? I might make odd choices sometimes, but I never had a Jabba the Hutt fetish. Jacqueline’s insecurity spoke louder than anything she said so far. A woman this jealous and worried either had reason to be that way or was completely neurotic. Which was it?