Rest Stop (Peri Jean Mace Ghost Thrillers Book 4)

by Catie Rhodes

  “I wish I never hired her to babysit.” Jacqueline spoke the words the same way she might have sung a familiar song.

  I raised my head to find her still glaring at me. This time I met her gaze and waited until she dropped hers.

  “I think spending time here, among our things, seeing how happy me and Bobby John were together, made her start having fantasies.” Lines appeared in the older woman’s forehead as she spoke. “Then maybe she started thinking those fantasies were real.”

  “Susie’s father died the year the poor girl started high school.” Coach Bobby John shifted his bulk on the couch. The furniture’s supports creaked as though they might give way. “Maybe she was looking for a father substitute.”

  Again, I took in Coach Bobby John’s earnest expression, trying to rate the authenticity of the sympathy I saw on his face and heard in his voice. The way he reacted to my earlier compliment set off warning bells. Vain men loved an admiring audience. But had Coach Bobby John acted on his power? Then something else hit me. What happened between Bobby John and Susie thirty-five years ago only mattered if Bobby John made Susie disappear.

  “I think we’ve lost sight of what Reed Investigations wants to discuss.” I glanced at Griff. Boy, I hoped I wasn’t shitting the bed. “We are not here to determine whether anything inappropriate went on between Coach Culpepper and Susie Franklin.”

  “Peri Jean is right.” Griff bobbed his head. “At this point, it doesn’t matter.”

  “But I never did anything,” Bobby John said. I glanced at Jacqueline Culpepper just in time to see her roll her eyes. She caught me watching and shrank into the chair, digging her fingers into the armrests.

  All doubt left me. He did it. No telling how many more teenage girls he screwed before he got too unattractive. His wife was, at the very least, mean and possibly unstable. These two could definitely have killed Susie Franklin. My head swam with the knowledge. I didn’t realize I was rocking side to side until Mysti gripped my arm.

  “Of course you did nothing.” Griff frowned at me. “The real question here is whether either of you have any idea where Susie Franklin may have ended up or what happened to her.”

  “I never spoke to her again after the story broke.” Jacqueline rubbed at one eye, shaking her head.

  “Nor did I.” Coach Bobby John kept his gaze trained on his wife.

  “Bullshit.” I spoke before I remembered I was working for Griff. I gave him a quick glance. It wouldn’t do to get into a shouting match with Jacqueline. For one thing, she’d win. Even if she had to use the fire tools next to me to beat me into silence.

  “Did you just call me a liar, baby?” Jacqueline’s tone of voice sounded sweet, but murder burned behind her eyes.

  I turned to Griff. He shrugged as if to say, Might as well go ahead.

  “I know for a fact you went to see Susie Franklin after the story broke. You slapped her in the face.”

  Bobby John’s head swiveled to regard his wife. His mouth dropped open. He must not have known.

  “And where’d you get your information—what did your boss call you?—Peri Jean?” She put on a thick, hick accent to say my name.

  “Mr. Reed didn’t tell you what I do for him when he introduced me, did he?”

  Jacqueline, sensing a falling shoe the way an animal senses danger, shook her head.

  “I’m a medium. I talk to the dead.”

  “Oh, horse shit.” Jacqueline shook her head.

  “Horse shit won’t help you, Mrs. Culpepper. I saw you come to Susie’s house, scream at her, and slap her twice in the face.” I glanced at her husband and saw a detail I could use. “Your wedding band matched the one Coach Culpepper is wearing. No telling how far it would have gone, but your little boy interrupted the two of you, crying. You left with him. Do you remember the last thing you said to Susie?”

  The blood drained from Jacqueline’s face, leaving it the color of chalk dust.

  “You can’t know what did or didn’t happen so long ago. You’d have just been a baby.”

  “But I do know because I saw it, same as watching an old movie on TV.” I locked gazes with the older woman, feeling like gunslingers must have felt waiting for the clock to strike high noon. “Do you want to tell Coach Culpepper what you said to Susie Franklin that day? Or would you like me to tell him for you?”

  Jacqueline Culpepper sat in her recliner panting like a dog with the trots.

  “Y’all are upsetting my wife,” Bobby John said. “I want it to stop.”

  “Your wife told your teenage girlfriend ‘This isn’t over.’” I raised my voice loud enough the neighbors probably heard it.

  Coach Bobby John began to tremble. He swept his gaze over his wife, mouth moving silently.

  “We saw her the day she went missing, okay?” Jacqueline Culpepper screamed.

  “But, sugar-lips, we promised each other we’d never tell.” Bobby John sounded like a toddler who’d been told to wait until his father got home. His words punched into me.

  “I don’t care. This weird bitch—”

  I stood, not caring if I ended up going death match with Jacqueline. I’d fight her before I put up with her disrespect.

  “Who you calling a bitch, you crazy bitch?”

  Griff stood behind me and grabbed my arm.

  “Don’t.” His breath was hot on my ear. “Get it under control. Now.” He released me and faced the Culpeppers. “Tell me what you saw the day Susie disappeared. If you did nothing to her, you should have nothing to hide.”

  The Culpeppers glanced at each other. Jacqueline nodded at Bobby John.

  “Mrs. Culpepper and myself had come from a meeting with the school board. We saw Susie Franklin walking near her home with Kevin Douglas.”

  “Kevin Douglas, you say?” Griff stepped forward to tower over Coach and Mrs. Culpepper. “Who is he?”

  This must be pretty good if even Griff doesn’t know about it. Nothing we’d uncovered seemed to surprise him until right then.

  “Little freak was her boyfriend. Always going around wearing all black. Even dyed his hair.” Bobby John waved one arm at his wife. “Go get the 1979 or the 1980 yearbook, sugar-lips.”

  Jacqueline marched from the room and went down the central hallway. Sounds of her rustling around came from one of the back bedrooms. She came back holding a 1979 yearbook, already open to the page she wanted to show us. Bobby John leaned forward to see what picture his wife had chosen. He nodded his approval.

  “The yearbook staff always takes snapshots around campus to show the students in a less formal setting,” he said.

  The snapshot showed a kid wearing black slacks, a black suit jacket, and a black fedora hat. He stood next to Susie Franklin who wore her track outfit and was staring at someone out of the camera’s frame. Judging by the longing expression on her face, I bet it was Coach Bobby John.

  “Kevin Douglas quit school and left town right after Susie disappeared.” Bobby John seemed to have recovered from his shock and snapped back into helpful citizen mode. “But he’s back. He came back about a year ago.”

  Griff, Mysti, and I glanced at each other. Recently enough for him to be responsible for the most recent disappearance in the area.

  “If anybody killed Susie Franklin, it’s that kook.” Jacqueline rose from her chair and walked to the front door and held it open.

  It was time to hit and git, and we filed out silently. I bet we’d find somewhere else to eat supper when evening rolled around.

  4

  “What a pair of freaks.” Griff started his SUV and backed slowly down the driveway and into the narrow county road. He drove a while and pulled over at a wide spot. He unbuckled his seatbelt and twisted to face me. “Peri Jean, you cannot work for me if you can’t control your temper. Do we understand each other?”

  I nodded, my cheeks on fire. Being sucked into a black hole would have been preferable to sitting there under Griff’s stern glare.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered and d
ropped my gaze to my cowboy boots.

  Griff pulled back onto the road and started driving again. “Any insights from either of you?”

  “Other than Coach Bobby John is a fantastic liar?” I longed to light up a cigarette but didn’t quite dare do it in Griff’s spiffy ride. If he didn’t smoke in here, he sure as hell didn’t want me doing it.

  “Any serious ones?” Griff glanced at me in the rearview mirror. I cringed.

  “Jacqueline could have killed Susie in a rage. Bobby John would have helped her dispose of the body.” I swallowed hard, waiting for the next rebuke.

  Neither Mysti nor Griff said anything for several long moments. I started to think they disagreed.

  “They definitely have an unhealthy relationship.” Mysti loosened her seatbelt and half turned in the seat. “I can’t imagine where and how they’d have done the killing.”

  “Snatch Susie off the street. Kill her in the car.” Griff turned onto the highway and drove toward Nazareth. “Strangulation wouldn’t have made a mess. As for body disposal, look at this place. There’s secluded burial sites everywhere you turn.”

  “This Kevin Douglas character could have done the same thing,” Mysti said.

  “If he even exists.” Griff pulled into the motel parking lot and parked in front of his room. “I can’t believe I never heard of him before we talked to the Culpeppers.” He pulled the keys out of the ignition. “I’ll need to do some online research on him before we barge into his life. Y’all up for a working lunch in motel hell?” He pulled a fold of bills from his pocket and held them out to Mysti. “On me.”

  Mysti and I found the vending machine tucked into an alley next to the laundry room. The odor of bleach and hot fabric competed with the mildewy scent of permanently damp concrete. A mosquito lit on my arm as soon as I stopped moving. I swatted it away but another took its place. Mysti handed me a couple of the dollar bills Griff gave her. The vending machine had no bottled water, so I chose an orange soda and a bag of cheese flavored tortilla chips.

  “I screwed up with Griff.” I wanted reassurance I hadn’t blown my chance.

  “Not too bad.” Mysti put in her money and chose two different kinds of soft drinks and chips. “Griff is about getting the job done, and you got results. So that counts in your favor. But you need to watch yourself.”

  We walked back to Griff’s room. Mysti raised her hand to knock but turned to me. “What about the snow globe? I didn’t think about telling you to bring it to the Culpeppers. Why don’t you go get it? Susie seems to prefer communicating with you through it.”

  I let myself back into the room I was ostensibly sharing with Mysti, grabbed the globe, and went back to Griff’s room.

  Griff and Mysti sat at the tiny table drinking their soft drinks and eating their chips.

  “You find anything out about Kevin Douglas on the Internet?”

  “Motel WIFI’s a joke. I’ll have to use my Internet anywhere card.” Griff ate another chip and made a face. “And these are stale.” He began typing on his laptop.

  I set the snow globe on the nightstand and stared at it while I forced down the rest of my stale chips. The bed shifted as Mysti sat down next to me. I picked up the globe, shook it, and sat it back down. Together we watched the fake snow drift down and settle on the stylized skyline of Reno.

  The sound of keys clicking on the keyboard stopped. “See anything?”

  “Nothing,” I turned to Mysti. “You?”

  She shook her head at me and spoke to Griff. “What about you? Any luck?”

  “Kevin Douglas has never been arrested and doesn’t have a mortgage or a car loan. His worst sin is bad credit.” He closed the laptop. “I got his address. It’s out the same way the Culpeppers lived. Y’all want to drop in for supper?”

  “If the other choice is the vending machine, yes.” Mysti stood and brushed chip crumbs off her skirt.

  “Sweetie, I’m willing to take you back to Family Home Cooking.” He winked at me. “Me and Peri Jean’ll wait for you in the parking lot.”

  “I’ll be right there to collect you when they throw you out.” I took a sip of the syrupy orange soda.

  “Cowards, both of you.” Mysti swung her handbag at my legs.

  Griff made a chicken sound at her and pushed back his chair. He stood, stretching with his arms over his head until his bones popped. “Let’s go make Kevin Douglas’s acquaintance.”

  I grabbed the snow globe, and we left in the SUV. Griff turned in his seat and fastened his gaze on the globe. I waited for him to tell me what a dumb idea it was to bring it along.

  “Don’t get it out until I signal,” he said. “I’ve got an idea.”

  On the drive to wherever Kevin Douglas lived, I replayed highlights of my relationship with Dean Turgeau, comparing his reactions to my otherworldliness to Griff’s. Different world. As always, I ended my thoughts scolding myself for even trying with Dean. I should have seen the writing on the wall with him. Next time—if I let there be a next time—I would be smarter. Not let my heart get broken into a zillion sharp bits.

  The monotone voice on Griff’s GPS took us back out into the wilds surrounding Nazareth. This time, there was no sign welcoming us to a deed restricted community. The first domicile we passed appeared to be a stucco house of some size until we passed it, and I noticed a mobile home attached to the stucco facade. Griff slowed the SUV to a crawl.

  “We’re looking for 643,” he said.

  Several mobile homes down, a group sat in the front yard in lawn chairs, a cooler of beer on the grass in front of them. An older man wearing full cowboy regalia, except for his leather house shoes, hurried down to his mailbox to meet us, flagging us down by waving one arm in a chopping motion.

  “Who y’all looking for?” Cowboy had short black stumps for teeth and didn’t mind showing them off.

  “Kevin Douglas,” Griff said.

  This answer confused Cowboy and he stared at Griff, his mouth hanging open.

  “Get out of the damn way, you idiot,” said a voice behind Cowboy. A pudgy hand shoved the skinny old man away. A guy about my age took his place.

  “Whoever you people came out here to find ain’t here. Why don’t you turn your yuppie mobile around and go back the way you came?”

  Griff sighed and dug in his pocket, fishing out a twenty and palming it. When he spoke I barely recognized his voice. “Listen, brah, I ain’t the po-lice, and I ain’t here for trouble. What I am here for is to talk to Kevin Douglas. Now you either gonna move your ass out my way and let me go on looking for him, or you gonna tell me where he is.” He flashed the twenty at the guy. “Now I’m willing to give you a little gratuity for the information, but I ain’t gonna fuck around with you.”

  Griff had his back to me, so I couldn’t see his face. Whatever the pudgy guy saw there made him take a step back and shuffle on his feet.

  “It’s five more houses down. Double-wide painted tan. Got a white van out front.” He held his hand out for the twenty, and Griff passed it to him.

  We drove on, finding the house with no problem. Kevin Douglas met us at the door. Pudge or Cowboy must have called and warned him.

  “Let me talk first.” Griff got out of the SUV. Mysti and I followed him and stood behind him.

  “Can I he’p you folks?” Kevin wore a threadbare pearl snap cowboy shirt, blue jeans, and rubber flip-flops. He had a dish towel slung over his shoulder. He reached up to rub the patchy beard covering his face.

  “I’m Griffin Reed of Reed Investigations.” Griff handed him a card. “Margaret Franklin hired me to look into the disappearance of her daughter. We were told the two of you were friends.”

  Kevin’s gaze dulled, and he dropped his hand from his face and held open the door. “C’mon in.”

  We followed Kevin through the living room and into a small dining room off the kitchen. Our host gestured at a rickety glass-topped table.

  “Y’all want a beer?”

  Mysti and I shook our heads.
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  “I’ll take one,” Griff said.

  We all sat down. My chair rocked to one side, worrying me it might collapse in a heap of cheap metal and bamboo. I leaned my shoulder against one thin wall, the kind common to mobile homes, papered with a pattern designed to look outdated long before the owners made the final payment.

  Kevin came from the kitchen carrying two cans of Milwaukee’s cheapest. He clunked one down in front of Griff and opened the other. “I’m sorry about those stupid tweakers hassling you. They think they’re a badass operation. Really just a bunch of clowns.”

  “Seems like they’re everywhere.” Griff took a pull off his beer and somehow managed not to shudder.

  “They’s here when I moved back home last year. Wouldn’t have come back, period, but Daddy had a stroke, and I ain’t got the heart to stow him in a nursing home.” He opened his beer and drank most of it in one swallow.

  “When did you move away from Nazareth?” Griff sipped his beer again and set it carefully on the table.

  “Not long after Susie disappeared. Now why don’t you tell me who sent you out here. Margaret?”

  “It wasn’t her,” Griff said.

  “Then it was the Culpeppers.” He rubbed his beard again, nodding. “Yep. They’s real upset when I showed back up. Told me I’s never supposed to come back here.” He killed his beer and set the can aside.

  “Why were they so determined to have you out of town?” The words came out before I remembered Griff said to let him do the talking. He shot me a look, and I shrugged in apology.

  “What’d the Culpeppers tell y’all?” Kevin sat very still.

  “That you and they were the last three people to see Susie Franklin alive.” Griff stared at Kevin until he pushed himself out of his chair and walked into the kitchen. The sucking sound of a refrigerator opening drifted back out to us. Kevin came back sipping on his new beer and sat back down.