by Mary Ellis
“Whitfield ain’t no preacher. He’s a pompous church elder who holds the purse strings too tightly. You’d think it was his money or something.”
“Count me out. I might be a thief, but I’ve never killed anyone.”
Rachel had decided to stand up to him, rather belatedly in Michael’s opinion.
“You will do what you’re told. If we get caught, you’re going away as an accessory to murder. That carries the same sentence as if you pulled the proverbial trigger, so don’t get self-righteous with me.”
When Michael heard Rachel crying, he felt a pang of pity for a girl who was kind to animals, who took off a semester from college to tend her dying grandmother, and who once told him he was the smartest man on earth. Somewhere Rachel had gone astray and would now pay the price.
Michael and Beth watched the scammers leave the coffee shop and climb in Roush’s car. As the police van followed at a safe distance, Beth stared out the window, her eyes glassy with moisture. They both had known Paul Dean’s death wasn’t a suicide, but hearing a heartless killer admit the truth drained every bit of color from Beth’s face.
“We’ll get him, partner.” Michael reached for her hand.
Without meeting his gaze, Beth squeezed his fingers.
Parked across the street under a century-old tree, the van’s occupants watched the scene play out: A paunchy, balding man opened his door to admit a murderer and his ambitious accomplice. Thanks to modern technology, they listened to harsh accusations and angry threats from Clay Whitfield, followed by Rachel’s tearful excuses and profuse apologies. A stern browbeating by Roush to his employee was thrown in for good measure. Then Rachel promised to return the Presbyterian church’s investment in total, but could she have a cup of coffee to settle her nerves in the meantime?
During the next few difficult minutes, Michael longed to shout: Don’t drink the coffee as though this was some horror movie on TV.
Clear as a bell, the van occupants heard Rachel ask for Sweet-n-Low instead of sugar. Then the entire drama was over too soon in Michael’s estimation. Law enforcement emerged from the bushes and entered the house before ketamine could be consumed by Whitfield…or any other hapless victim. Detective Lejeune arrested the owner of D.K. Financials and dragged him toward the waiting patrol car with more force than necessary. Is that how he manhandled Beth? Michael forced the image from his mind.
Surprisingly, Officer Pratt allowed Rachel to approach the two private investigators standing on the sidelines. With her hands cuffed behind her, she stopped in front of Michael. She turned her luminous blue gaze on him—eyes he had once thought he would wake up to for the rest of his life.
“Did I do good?” she asked.
Michael clenched down on his molars. “You might have reduced your eventual sentence, Rachel, but I wouldn’t describe ruining three men’s lives and eroding people’s faith in charitable causes as ‘good.’ ”
Her head reared back as though slapped. Then she focused a venomous glare at Beth. “Who are you looking at?” she demanded.
“Who, me?” Beth stepped forward, hooking her thumb toward her chest. “Nobody. Absolutely nobody.”
FIFTY-FIVE
Monday
Beth bounded down the steps with more energy than she’d had since her release from jail nearly a week ago. Nate would be back in the office today, well rested after his honeymoon. He would be apprised of everything that took place in his absence—the good, the bad, and the ugly. If she was to be fired, she might as well get it over with. Maybe Walmart could use another greeter, or Nate might have seen “Help Wanted” signs somewhere along the coast. It would be nice living close to the beach with powdery white sand, bumper-to-bumper traffic, and the occasional hurricane. At least her conundrum of whether she and Michael would remain partners would soon be over.
“Are you whistling?” asked her mother, dropping her newspaper onto the table.
“Yep. I’m in such a good mood I’ll resist the impulse to drive across the neighbor’s pansies.” Beth filled her to-go mug to the rim.
“You would do that to Mrs. Patrick after what she tried to do for you?” Rita arched an eyebrow as she put a plate of waffles on the table for her daughter.
“What did that busybody ever do other than spread malicious gossip in the neighborhood?” Beth forked a waffle from the plate to eat dry.
“Well, let’s see. That nosy busybody was so upset you got hauled away in handcuffs that she tried to bail you out. She had to take two buses to her bank to empty out her Christmas Club and another bus to city hall. Unfortunately, she thought that’s where you paid someone’s bail. After her daughter picked her up and they found the right place, you had already been sprung from the slammer.” Rita poured maple syrup on her second waffle.
“People still open Christmas Clubs?”
“That’s all you have to say, missy?”
“Everything else is unbelievable.”
“Well, believe it. Nancy Patrick wants to be a character witness in court if you need her.” Rita waved her syrupy fork through the air. “I don’t know why you think everybody hates you, Betsy. Maybe you should talk to a therapist about your low self-esteem.”
Beth choked on her dry waffle. “That will be at the top of my to-do list. But right now, I need to get to work. Wish me luck. You could be seeing more of me starting tomorrow.”
Rita caught hold of her arm. “Stand up for yourself, daughter. Make sure Nate knows what a good PI you are and how hard you worked for Mrs. Dean.”
“If all else fails, I’ll ask Mrs. Patrick for an affidavit.” Beth brushed a kiss across her mother’s gray head as tears clouded her vison. What is it about female emotions? Crying when you’re sad was one thing, but this was altogether different.
Beth walked into an office that looked like New Year’s Eve and Fourth of July rolled into one. Red, white, and blue streamers crisscrossed the ceiling, bouquets of helium balloons adorned each desktop, and a huge banner proclaimed “Welcome back, Nate and Isabelle.”
Closing the door behind her, Beth spotted a tray of colorful cupcakes which spelled out the same greeting. “Did you bake those, Maxine? They look yummy.” She reached for a particularly gooey one.
“Of course I did.” Maxine slapped her hand away. “What do Isabelle’s pals at Realty World have that I don’t? But we’re waiting for Isabelle to start eating.”
“After the week Beth had, I think she can have one now.” Nate walked out of his office and enveloped her in a loose hug. “How ya doing, Kirby? My bride stopped at the doctor’s office, but she’ll be here soon with enough pictures to bore you to tears.”
“I’m fine. And you look great, Nate—all tan and healthy. Ready to tackle the next Natchez missing person or corporate espionage case? Where’s Preston? I hope he’s not late on your first day back.”
Michael carried a pot of coffee from the kitchen. “Present and accounted for.”
Nate held out a mug. “I’ll wait for Izzy to share the honeymoon saga. Right now, give me an update on the Reverend Dean investigation.”
Beth held her breath, hoping Michael would take the lead.
He didn’t let her down. “Special Agent Fonteneau said the assets of D.K. Financials have been frozen pending the conclusion of their fraud case. Then the U.S. district judge will appoint a trustee to divide up the funds between the churches burned by the scam. Elliott Rayburn assured the FBI he would personally replace any shortfalls from his own assets. He feels terrible about not vetting George Roush more thoroughly.”
Nate pulled the letter I cupcake off the tray. “Sounds like raising money for offshore charities can be lucrative these days.”
Because Maxine didn’t slap his hand, Beth helped herself to an e cupcake.
“So far, homicide detectives have found no proof Rachel had anything to do with Reverend Dean’s murder,” continued Michael. “But Roush’s DNA will undoubtedly match the drop of sweat on the stool and a partial print on the rope. He must
have had trouble retying the knot with gloves on. Right now Roush is only talking to his lawyer, but he’ll be prosecuted both locally and in federal court.”
“And Miss Stewart?” asked Nate. “Sounds like you dodged a bullet on that one.”
Michael’s face flushed with color. “She’s in federal custody in Jackson. I’ve had no further contact with her, nor do I plan to have any.” He focused his honey-brown eyes on Beth. She concentrated on not dropping cupcake crumbs on the floor.
Suddenly, the door swung open and Isabelle appeared. “Who just dodged a bullet? You had better not be bad-mouthing me, Mr. Price.” She set several bottles of fruit punch on the table and eyed the cupcakes. “Who are Nat and sabelle? Do I know them?”
“The two luckiest people on earth,” said Nate.
“We’re all here. Let the games begin.” Maxine clapped her hands wildly. “Any good news you care to report from your doctor’s visit?”
Isabelle’s mouth dropped open. “Are there no secrets in this company?”
“Not in a PI firm this good.” Nate wrapped an arm around his wife’s waist. “I heard from Mrs. Dean. She is very happy with how you two handled her husband’s case. She invited Isabelle and me to dinner later this week and said we could use her as a reference anytime.”
“That’s good to hear.” Beth pretended to wipe sweat from her brow.
“Beth was a very good teacher,” said Michael.
“Does that mean you two are willing to remain partners?” Nate looked at Michael first.
“I’m willing. I still have more to learn,” he said.
All eyes turned to Beth. “I’m the one with plenty to learn. So yes, I enjoy working as Mike’s partner. I’m just not sure Natchez is a good fit for me.” Beth felt her gut drop the moment she spoke the words. “Maybe if you get an out-of-town case?”
“I might be able to get you both out of Dodge for a while.” Nate exchanged glances with Isabelle. “Ever been to Savannah? I hear it’s a lovely city. Price Investigations has just been handed a case with a fee so generous we can’t refuse. I would go myself, but my bride is eager to sleep in her own bed. Any cases that come up in Natchez I can handle alone.”
“How did you land a case in Savannah?” asked Michael.
“On the day we spent sightseeing in Mobile, a street thug ripped off a lady’s purse right in front of us—”
“Actually, it happened across the street,” interrupted Isabelle. “But my hero took off after the thief, caught him three blocks away, and returned the purse to the rightful owner.”
“The woman was very grateful and offered a reward—”
“Which Nate turned down, but he said if you ever need a PI please keep my agency in mind.” Isabelle smiled at her husband. “Did I mention she was very rich?”
Nate rolled his eyes. “This woman was on business in Mobile, but she kept my card. Then she called me a few days later about a job for us in her hometown of Savannah.”
“You want us both to go to the East Coast?” asked Beth, incredulously.
“I do. With the daily per diem for expenses, I can put you up in decent accommodations. It wouldn’t be fair for one partner to get a vacation and not the other.”
Michael scratched his scalp. “I’m confused. Are you giving us a free trip or a new case to work?”
“Consider it both. Plan to be gone for at least a week, but the case shouldn’t take longer than a couple days. I’ll pay for the rest of your expenses while you take some R and R.”
Beth felt her old fear of getting too close to someone at work rear its head. “I don’t know, Nate. I don’t exactly deserve an all-expense-paid trip after getting thrown in jail.” She held her breath.
Nate scoffed. “That happens to every PI sooner or later. Ask me sometime what jail was like in New Orleans, and Nicki came awfully close to seeing the inside of a Memphis holding cell.”
Michael approached Beth until he was inches from her. “It’s time for me to play my get-out-of-jail-free card. I’m entitled to stick my nose into your business one time. I say we both need a trip to Savannah.”
With all eyes on her, Beth had little alternative. “Should I go start packing now, or do I have time for another cupcake?”
“Have all the cupcakes you want,” said Nate. “Nobody’s leaving the office until you hear all about our very long, very convoluted honeymoon.”
“And watch our PowerPoint presentation. I’ve loaded in all of our photos, and we can’t wait to share them with you.” Isabelle started lining up chairs.
As for Beth, she couldn’t think of anywhere else she would rather be.
DISCUSSION QUESTIONS
1. Why does Beth Kirby feel so alien in her hometown? Why has she distanced herself from her friends, her church, and even her family?
2. Following his broken engagement, Michael Preston endeavors to overhaul nearly every facet of his life. Have you ever undertaken such a major reinvention? What triggered the decision?
3. What looks suspicious about Reverend Dean’s death to the PIs despite the coroner’s conclusion?
4. Craig Mitchell’s gambling ruined Isabelle’s first marriage. Why is she so intent on helping someone who doesn’t want help?
5. A private investigator must walk a narrow line with local law enforcement. What makes Detective Lejeune especially resentful of Beth’s interference in his case?
6. Why would church personnel be easy marks for scam artists?
7. What was in the quarterly statements that made Michael suspicious of D.K. Financials?
8. Why is it nearly impossible to cheat a casino?
9. A series of bad choices created a mess in Craig’s life. What one good choice does he make in the poker game that turns his life around?
10. Much to her dismay, Rachel Stewart no longer has power over Michael. What has changed inside him to bring this about?
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Mary Ellis is the bestselling author of a dozen novels set in the Amish community and several historical romances set during the Civil War. Midnight on the Mississippi, What Happened on Beale Street, and Magnolia Moonlight are books in a romantic suspense series, Secrets of the South.
Before “retiring” to write full-time, Mary taught school and worked as a sales rep for Hershey Chocolate. Her debut book, A Widow’s Hope, was a finalist for a 2010 Carol Award. Living in Harmony won the 2012 Lime Award for Excellence in Amish Fiction, while Love Comes to Paradise won the 2013 Lime Award. Mary and her husband live in Ohio.
Mary can be found on the web at
www.maryellis.net
or look for
Mary Ellis/Author on Facebook
Midnight on the Mississippi
What Lies Beneath the Black Water of the Bayou?
Hunter Galen, a New Orleans securities broker, suspects his business partner, James Nowak, of embezzling their clients’ money, but he’s reluctant to jeopardize their friendship. After James turns up dead, Hunter realizes his unwillingness to confront a problem may have cost James his life.
Nicki Price, a newly minted PI, intends to solve the stockbroker’s murder as she establishes herself in the career she adores. As she ferrets out fraud and deception at Galen-Nowak Investments, Hunter’s fiancée, Ashley Menard, rubs her the wrong way. Nicki doesn’t trust the ostentatious woman who seems to be hiding something, but is the PI’s growing attraction to Hunter—the police’s only suspect—her true reason for disliking Ashley?
As Hunter and Nicki encounter sophisticated shell games, blackmail, and death threats both subtle and overt, danger swirls around them like the mysterious dark water of the bayou. Only their reliance on faith and fearless determination give them hope they will live to see another day.
What Happened on Beale Street
How Can Music So Beautiful Hide Something So Deadly?
A cryptic plea for help from a childhood friend sends cousins Nate and Nicki Price from New Orleans to Memphis. When these two private investigators arrive at Dan
ny Andre’s last known address, they discover signs of a struggle and a lifestyle not in keeping with the choirboy they fondly remember.
Danny’s sister, Isabelle, reluctantly accepts their help. She and Nate aren’t on the best of terms due to a shared past. Can they get beyond painful memories to find her brother?
And what on earth was Danny involved in besides becoming a rising star as a sax player? Nate and Nicki follow clues into dim and smoky clubs, trail potential stalkers, and challenge dangerous men with connections to underworld drug trafficking. To complicate things, the hotel they are staying in has its own secrets. Confronted with murder and mystery in the land of the Delta blues, the cousins and Isabelle will have to rely on their faith and investigative experience to solve the case and not lose their lives.
Sunset in Old Savannah
Want another entertaining and romantic murder mystery involving the dedicated and engaging sleuths from Price Investigations?
Don’t Miss
Sunset in Old Savannah
(Spring 2017)
About the Publisher
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To learn more about Harvest House books and to read sample chapters, visit our website:
www.harvesthousepublishers.com
HARVEST HOUSE PUBLISHERS
EUGENE, OREGON
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