Killer Moves: The 4th Jolene Jackson Mystery (Jolene Jackson Mysteries)

by Paula Boyd

  “Yes, ma’am,” I said, resisting the urge to salute. “Now, on my side, I’d really like it if you would call me Jolene, without the Miss part.”

  She shook her head. “Dear, you have a lot to learn.”

  Indeed. My ignorance was vast and sprawling, but having the housekeeper say so stung a bit and I wasn’t sure exactly why.

  “Now, don’t be taking it personally,” Emmajean said. “I just meant that being the owner of this big place was going to take some getting used to. Clove and I aren’t the only ones on your staff here.”

  Staff? I’ve been staff, but I’ve never had staff. The one time I had a maid, I was terrified about what embarrassing mess she’d find next. Yes, indeed. I had a lot to learn. “Well, I hope you’ll show me the ropes.”

  “Let’s start with food,” Emmajean said, smiling, then pointed to the fresh vegetables and other items on the counter. “Everything here is organic and fresh grown, some from our own garden. We also have our own chickens, so the eggs are as fresh as you can get. I don’t fix a lot of meats, but it’s always from local sources with no chemicals, so you don’t have to worry about that.”

  I was a little shocked. That kind of stuff was normal where I live in Colorado, but here, a bold health statement was choosing diet soda over regular. My dance on the dark side with Dr Peppers and chicken baskets aside, I am a different person when I am at home—on every level. Still, having these kinds of healthy options here was really good news. “Wow! That’s fantastic!”

  “The kitchen is set up to be gluten free,” she said, “It’s your choice, of course. Just let me know what you prefer.”

  I nodded because really, how many times could you say “wow”?

  Emmajean showed me around the pantry—yes, it required a tour guide. I was a little giddy at all the shelves stocked full of really good stuff and I was ready to start taste testing right then. In keeping with the mother-toddler aspect of our relationship—the employer-staff thing was just a theory—Emmajean gave me a little snack then sent me off to my room to rest and clean up before dinner.

  Now, I don’t know what possessed me—I suppose I never do—but instead of taking a nap or hopping in the shower or snooping through my new master suite to see what was there, I chose to look at the files Grant had left for me that morning. It did not take me long to regret my decision.

  Dr. Richard Waverman’s grand plan for the toxic waste problem looked more like a map to create an amusement park than it did a plan for remediation. The log ride, black lagoon and magic mountain just weren’t marked as such on the drawings. Okay, that was an exaggerations, but the whole thing looked like overkill to me. Waverman might think he’d hit a gold mine that he could milk because nobody knew any better, but he was about to find out differently.

  After a few desperate text messages, emails and phone calls to my geologist friend Dr. Deb, complete with photos of the maps and relevant details of what I thought he was up to, I was reasonably certain that Dr. Dickhead was going to have to die come sunrise. And yes, I am certain that Clove was not the first one to call him that, nor would I be the last. I was also certain that whatever name I decided to call him, the good doctor and I would be having us a nice little chat at dawn about the future.

  My phone beeped, signaling that a text message had arrived. Figuring it was Deb again, I grabbed it to see if there was more ammunition for my morning showdown.

  The text was from Jerry. My stomach instantly knotted and a twisting zing shot up my body. He wasn’t coming at all tonight and I didn’t have to read the message to know it. Past history and old wounds kicked in. Danny and the guy after him had made careers out of making things sound perfectly innocent so I’d feel stupid for questioning their lies. Jerry wasn’t like that and I had to stop expecting him to be. I gritted my teeth and read the message.

  “Kids wanted to come home with me and spend the night. Will call when I get them in bed. I love you.”

  Yes, I was disappointed he wasn’t going to spend the night with me, but I didn’t feel sick about it because I knew he wasn’t lying. Jerry loves his kids and is an amazing dad. He’s also got the most incredible co-parenting relationship with his gorgeous ex-wife Amy I’ve ever heard of. Admittedly, the fact that she was a newly discovered lesbian made it easier to temper any jealous twinges on that front, but mostly I was envious of their divorce arrangements. My own joint custody had consisted of me begging my children’s father to spend time with them and him making excuses so he didn’t have to. It still made me sick to think about it—and how, even as young adults, they were still trying to get Daddy to care. He never would give them the attention and approval they wanted, but they had to figure that out for themselves. It wasn’t my deal anymore. I tossed the phone aside. “That was then, this is now.”

  I put the project papers back in the folder for tomorrow’s showdown with Waverman. Then, after a trip to the fancy bathroom, I moseyed out to inform Emmajean of the new lowered headcount for dinner. When I opened the bedroom door, an apparently well-insulated and sound-proof door, I heard a strong male voice and tinkling female laughter. A few steps into the room, I saw Travis and Melody sitting on the sofa, chatting away.

  Melody sat sideways on the couch, her legs tucked under the long teal skirt that spread out around her. Her gaze kept drifting over to Travis, an odd mixture of self-assured confidence and doe-eyed admiration.

  Travis wore khakis, but his shirt was more casual today, the top button left open and his sleeves rolled up. He looked like a normal guy. Sounded like one too. I heard none of Dr. Deadpan’s usual monotone condescension or acerbic phrasing. In fact, he sounded like a totally different person—a human person—one with a charming personality. It was a little disconcerting.

  “I see you two have met,” I said, stating the obvious and walking toward them. “Thanks for coming, Travis.”

  “Thanks for inviting me!” he said, smiling widely. “Your home is lovely and I’m already having quite an enjoyable time.”

  Uh huh. I could see that. I could see it, but I couldn’t believe it. The blushed glow on Melody’s face and the fact that Travis couldn’t seem to keep his eyes off her told me I’d better believe it. Who would’ve guessed that the go-with-the-flow energy worker and the uptight doctor whose patients were all dead would be smitten with each other? Not me, particularly since I’d halfway suspected Travis was gay. Since that assessment was obviously wrong, maybe I was misjudging the age difference too. Was I assuming Melody was older just because she had silver hair and Travis didn’t? Well, yes, I was, and that train of thought led right back to me and my own unnatural brunette choices. Not a place I wanted to go at the moment. “Jerry’s not going to make it for dinner tonight.”

  “Just got his text,” Travis said, nodding. “I’ve already let Emmajean know.”

  Well, Mr. Personality was right on top of everything, now wasn’t he? I frowned. “Anything else I need to know?”

  “Travis took a look at Mom,” Melody said, a flicker of a blush tinting her cheeks. Her fingers toyed with a violet-purple natural-looking stone, probably amethyst, that hung on a silver chain around her neck. “He thinks we caught it in time and that she’s going to be okay.”

  “That’s great!” I said, sitting in the chair by the fireplace.

  “I brought a liquid nutrient supplement, which will help significantly.” Travis said. “With dietary support and extra fluids, we should see improvement in a couple of days.”

  “I’m just so grateful for your help,” Melody said to Travis, her voice even more twinkly than usual. “Yours too, of course,” she said, looking at me. “None of this would have been possible without your quick thinking. Because of you two, my mom is going to be okay.”

  “I am really glad to hear that,” I said sincerely.

  “Hear what?” Lucille said, walking out from the hallway and into the big open area. She held to the wall then made her way toward the dining room table, which was only a few feet away. “What�
�s happened now?”

  “We were just talking about how much better Doris is doing,” I said, watching my mother carefully. “How are you feeling?”

  “I’m fine,” she said, but it wasn’t convincing. She was giving it a good try, but she couldn’t hide the limp and she was moving slower than she had been earlier. She’d overdone it, not that she’d ever admit it. “I’m not very hungry, but I thought I’d come out and visit.”

  Of course, she wasn’t hungry—the burger and onion rings had seen to that. I did not say so, of course. I just stood and walked over to the dining room table. Handcrafted dinner plates with deep blues and rich browns lined the outer edges. Unique-looking bowls and serving dishes filled with gourmet foods covered the center section. The presentation appealed to the eyes and the stomach. Keeping my little mouth shut about what she was going to be missing, I pulled out a chair and helped my mother sit down.

  “Well, now, isn’t this fancy,” Lucille said, more snarky than complimentary. “I suppose some people like fancy.”

  “It looks great to me,” I said, not taking the bait. “And the food looks fabulous. Too bad you’re not hungry.”

  Travis pulled out a chair for Melody across from me, then seated himself next to her. I began passing the bowls and plates of food around.

  “Emmajean is just amazing,” Melody said, adding a few stalks of asparagus to her plate. “You are so fortunate to have her helping you.”

  I agreed wholeheartedly—on many levels. This particular gratefulness included farm-fresh organic vegetable dishes and salads that looked exquisite and tasted even better. “The quinoa salad is delicious and the mashed sweet potatoes are were worthy of desert status.”

  “I agree,” Melody said. “I have great restaurants around me in Dallas and this is like the best of the best.”

  “Miz Jackson,” Travis said to Lucille, clearly not going to make a food comment. “Did any of your doctors ever mention the possibility of your having restless leg syndrome?”

  “What!” Lucille’s eyebrows shot up. “My legs are just fine. I don’ have anything like that.”

  “Nobody does,” I muttered. “But that didn’t stop them from creating a pill for it.”

  Travis raised an eyebrow in my direction. “The drug is typically prescribed for Parkinson’s—”

  “Well, I certainly don’t have that either.” Lucille held out her hand. The long acrylic nails were definitely in need of a touch-up, but they did not wiggle, even a little. “Do you see any shaking here? No, you do not! And why would you even say such things? Parkinson’s my hind foot.”

  Travis took a drink and nodded, undaunted by Lucille. “One of the pills you collected at the rehab center is prescribed for both conditions. It might possibly have been given to assist with the healing process, although it was more likely an error, a mix-up in medications.”

  “Hmmph,” Lucille snorted. “Just another way they were trying to kill people. Now, I want to know what you’re going to do about this.”

  The light above the dining room table flickered.

  “That’s weird,” I said watching the light go on and off. “It shouldn’t be doing that. Everything’s brand new. “Must be a bad bulb.”

  The flickering stopped.

  “Handing out pills like popcorn. Just give any old pill to anybody,” Lucille said, ignoring me and the light. “Just using us like a bunch of guinea pigs, seeing what would kill us and what wouldn’t.” She slapped her hand on the table. “Oh, the nerve of those people!”

  “It isn’t automatically a mass problem,” Travis said. “It could have been an individual mistake.”

  He was trying to consider all options, I understood that, but I could also see the wheels turning in his head. “You ran the tests. You know what’s going on here, Travis. It may not be pretty, but there’s no other way around it.”

  “I, above all others, know the lengths to which drug companies will go to get their products on the market.” He uncharacteristically ran a hand over his hair. “This would mean that someone is conducting unauthorized pre-trials of drugs on unsuspecting patients.”

  “And we all know what is motivating that,” I said, feeling my own anger rise again. “Money. Always about the money.”

  “Well, I’m telling you people are dying right and left,” Lucille said. “Now, I want to know what you’re going to do about it, because I know what I’d be doing about it!”

  The lights flickered again.

  “Oh, for crying out loud! Not that too!” Lucille flung her napkin on the table and waved her hand at the light over the dining table. “That’s it! I have enough problems without having to deal with all that too!”

  “It’s just a bad light bulb, Mother,” I said, feeling my own surge of exasperation in response to hers. “If I knew where to find replacements, I’d change them all out. But since I don’t, just ignore it. Okay?”

  “Oh, Good Lord, Jolene,” Lucille said. “It is most certainly not okay. You can’t just ignore these things. That just makes it worse. Don’t you know anything?”

  Apparently not. But I sure thought I was capable of changing a damn light bulb. Hell, I’d personally replace the whole fixture if it came to that.

  “That wouldn’t help either,” Travis said, looking at me and answering as if he’d read my mind. Then, he turned to Melody. “Would you like to tell her or shall I?”

  Melody’s eyes widened. “You know? You communicate too?”

  “For crying out loud, everybody knows,” Lucille said, scooting her chair back from the table. “This is exactly why I didn’t want to come up to this place, well, at least one of the umpteen reasons. I just didn’t think this nonsense would start the minute I walked in the door.”

  “What are you talking about?” I said, totally confused.

  “You can’t be this dense, Jolene,” Lucille said, waving her hand. “Brand new lights do not just flash off and on by themselves. Everybody knows there’s a ghost up here.”

  No, everybody did not know. And if everybody had known, everybody wouldn’t have agreed to move into the haunted house on the hill, and she certainly wouldn’t have signed the damn papers that trapped her into staying in it. “I do not want to go down this road,” I said. “Not now. Not ever.”

  “Actually, there are two spirits,” Travis said, ignoring my very clear directive. “It’s rather obvious who they are.”

  Melody nodded. “Both are quite eager to chat.”

  “I’m not.” I’d had my own firsthand feelings of unease here, but they’d been just been random bouts of weirdness. Putting names to the reasons for the feelings made the situation much harder to ignore. Still, I was willing to give it my best shot. “I really prefer the bad bulbs theory. Can’t we just stick with that?”

  The lights flickered again and Melody laughed. “It wouldn’t do any good.”

  I leaned back and rested my head against the thick upholstery of the dining room chair. “I have to sleep here tonight.”

  Lucille pushed up from the table and stood. “Well, you aren’t the only one that has to put with it, missy. I’ve been doing it for forty years.” She looked up and waved her hand at the light fixture. “I’m going to bed and go to sleep now, Glenda. You hear me? Don’t you be showing up in my bedroom like you used to. And don’t you be bothering Jolene either. You know how skittish she is. We’ve talked about this. You hear me?”

  I’d heard. And I didn’t like it. The mother who’d raised me was talking to the dead one who’d birthed me as if it were a perfectly normal thing to do. It was not. “This may all be just a normal day for all of you, but I’m not dealing with this tonight,” I said. “Everybody got that? All of you?” I waited for the light to flicker in understanding. It did not.

  Melody walked over to Lucille and held her arm for support. I walked to the other side and did the same. Lucille grumbled that she didn’t need any help, but it was half-hearted at best. She was exhausted and probably in pain, not that she’d admit
it.

  After settling Lucille in bed, Melody and I returned to the dining room to find that Travis had already cleared the table and was stacking dishes by the sink.

  “You are just full of surprises, Doctor Travis,” Melody said, her voice twinkling right along with her eyes.

  “Yes, thanks for taking care of the dishes,” I said.

  Melody walked toward the kitchen, her fingers fiddling with the stone necklace. “I’d like to know more about your intuitive gifts.”

  Travis smiled. “And I yours.”

  I just wanted to talk about the stuffy doctor doing the dishes or something equally inane. I didn’t want to know about anything else. Okay, I did, but not tonight. Furthermore, with the way the new friends were eyeing each other, they had more earthly pursuits on their minds as well.

  “Hey,” I said, pointing to the door. “Why don’t you two check out the fountain and the swimming pool? The lights look pretty even from here and I bet there’s a nice view from the top of the hill too.”

  “Sounds lovely.” Melody said. “Don’t you want to come?”

  “No, I think I’m going to call it a night. Go enjoy the evening. It looks like a great night for star gazing.”

  They both just stood there, sort of frozen in place, so I shooed the unlikely pair out of the kitchen. They could figure out their next step outside where I didn’t have to bear witness to it.

  Seeing attraction bloom in front of my eyes was nice, but I’d rather be living my own. I wished that Jerry were here and that we too could just walk out the door and forget about everything but each other. I wished that somehow all the real world problems—and now the otherworldly ones—would magically vanish and we could have just one day that at least teetered on the edge of normalcy. Was it really too much to ask? The obvious answer would be yes.