“How come I didn’t hear about the sale?” A. K. asked, fanning her face with her hand.
“Because I just thought of it. I’m glad you’re here. Myrtle has a problem, and I think you’re just the person to solve it.”
“Me? Hi, Myrtle, what’s up?” A. K. stopped and checked out her appearance in one of the floor mirrors. “Egads! My hair’s a disaster.”
While she poked and lifted her curls, Myrtle explained the situation.
“And you think I’m the one to handle this?” She gave Susan a you’ve-got-to-be-kidding glance.
Susan spoke up before A. K. could decline. “Next week is Halloween, a great time to sell costumes. Maybe you could tie it into a fundraiser. I’m sure you can come up with something.”
A. K. twisted her mouth from side to side and tapped the toe of her stiletto against the slate floor, something Susan knew A. K. did when she was deep in thought.
“No...yes...no,” A. K. mumbled and shook her head.
Myrtle stared at A. K. as if she had lost her mind. “I’m sorry if I—”
Susan held up her hand. “She’s thinking, Myrtle.”
Like a neon sign, A. K.’s face lit up. “Got it!”
After a few moments of silence, Susan asked, “Well, are you going to give us a hint?”
“Not yet. I want to work out the details.” She turned to Myrtle, who still had a confused look on her face. “Don’t worry, friend. We’re going to stuff the pantry like a Thanksgiving turkey. Susan, I need to borrow Sheila for today. She and Debbie will have to run the costume shop so I can think this through.”
Debbie and Sheila, both about nineteen, were Susan’s first employees. They often alternated working between the Bawdy Boutique and the Purple Pickle, and there was nothing they couldn’t handle.
“Well, I can’t wait to hear what you have in mind,” Susan said.
Myrtle raised her eyebrows, which tended to elongate her already narrow face. “Me, too. Halloween is a holiday I prefer not to celebrate, but if it’ll help the needy, I shouldn’t complain. They say the Lord works in mysterious ways.” She tucked her purse under her arm and turned toward the front door. “Let me know if I can be of help.”
Watching Myrtle march to her car, Susan was reminded how the thin woman with her holier-than-thou attitude had gathered her followers and had picketed the opening of the boutique. Myrtle, a pillar of the church, had made claims that the shop’s decadent apparel had no place in Palmetto. Only when she realized that the shop also offered designer clothing and accessories, did Myrtle stop with the protests. But it was the tragic loss of Myrtle’s sister that had really cemented their friendship.
“Whatever made you think Myrtle would be willing to work with me?” A. K. asked. “We’re not exactly compatible, and now that I run a costume shop, she must really believe I’m the devil’s handmaiden.”
“Look at it this way—it’s your chance to score points.”
“Do I really want to?”
Chapter 2
After a short drive down the highway, Wesley steered his Tundra behind the Burger Shack. He lowered his tailgate, positioned two ramps, and backed down the ATV. Perspiration dripped from his face. After drying it on the sleeve of his forearm, he glanced down an empty highway. Not seeing Charlie irritated him. With each passing minute, the sun was climbing higher, and the temperature was rising along with it. The later it got, the more problems he and his partner would have to contend with—swarming mosquitoes, bloodsucking ticks, and pesky gnats—all looking for a meal.
Pulling his phone from his back pocket, he punched in Charlie’s name. “Where are you?”
“On my way. Give me five minutes.”
“That’s five minutes too long. I’m going in. Meet me where you and I found the earring a while back.”
Charlie was Wesley’s third partner in two years. First, there was Terrance. Then there was Dylan, who had resigned to return home to Mississippi to help solve his father’s murder. While Wesley got along well with Charlie, there were some things about his partner that had to change. Showing up on time was one of them.
Wesley grabbed his backpack from the truck. In addition to a couple of evidence bags, it contained two bottles of water, a flashlight, yellow tape, wire cutters, and a few other items that they might need. He didn’t plan to spend more than a few hours in the woods.
After climbing on the ATV, he turned the key and cranked his motor. With the coast clear, he scooted across the highway into the woods and down a well-worn path. Sharp turns and ruts twisted the front wheels and threatened to dislodge him, but he clutched the handlebars in a vice-like grip and kept the four-wheeler under control. When a branch came out of nowhere, he ducked, but another one slapped him upside the head. At that point, he wondered if this trip was worth it.
It had been five years since Edith Nelson disappeared. With little evidence, the case had gone cold. Then a week ago, a hunter had stumbled onto her bracelet. In an additional search of the site, Wesley had found her earring wedged into the bark of a tree. He was left with more questions than answers. Was she murdered? Was she being held hostage somewhere in that wilderness?
Five years was a long time, but not beyond the possibility that she could still be alive. He’d heard of cases where victims had survived even longer. Besides, he had promised Edith’s parents that he’d never give up looking for her. That was one promise he intended to keep.
Wesley reached the site in a matter of minutes and turned off the engine. Silence engulfed him. The pines were as green as ever, but the maples and oaks had started to drop some of their leaves, sprinkling the ground with a blanket of yesterday’s summer. There, seeds from pine cones and an abundance of acorns would lay dormant, only to be reborn again in the spring.
As the minutes passed, the silence gave way to the sounds of nature. A squirrel scurried up a tree then stopped and barked at him as if to say, “You’re not welcome here.” In the distance he spotted an armadillo, the tank of the forest, digging one hole after another. Overhead, the caw of a big, black crow made his presence known. And he didn’t have to wait long for the whine of mosquitos about his head.
Wesley pushed his thoughts aside at the sound of a motor.
Charlie burst into sight, riding the ATV like a bull out of a chute. “Yee-Ha, what a ride!” He squeezed the brakes, locking the front wheels and skidding to a stop about a foot from Wesley.
Short, curly black hair lay plastered to Charlie’s head like a skull cap. His cheeks looked as if someone had taken a red paint brush to them. Wesley wondered if the flushed face was the result of the heat or too much booze the night before. “Glad you could make it. You show up late for Chief Smith, and you’ll be pulling desk duty.”
“Sorry, it won’t happen again.”
Wesley doubted that. In his early twenties, Charlie was still very much into the party scene. He was out most nights with a new girl on his arm. “Who was it this time?”
“Man, let me tell you about her—silky blonde hair, big blue eyes, and a bod to die for.” He squirmed in his seat. “I get horny just thinking about her.”
“If you don’t mind my asking, where’d you find this beauty?”
“Where else? In one of the local watering holes.”
Wesley groaned.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Charlie said. “I’m a cop and have to be careful not to get involved with the wrong crowd. I ran a background check. She’s clean. State police showed no priors, and nothing showed up here, either.”
“Just make sure you don’t let your glands cloud your brain. Wear protection.”
“Every time.” Charlie wiped his brow with his forearm. “Dang, it’s hot. Excuse me. Gotta take a leak.” He hauled his five-foot, nine-inch frame off the ATV and turned his back to Wesley. After relieving himself, he climbed back on his ride. “Where we going this time?”
Wesley pointed south. “Thought we’d try past the cabin where we found the rabbit bones. For anyone to sta
y hidden all this time, they’d have to be really secluded. The hunter who gave me the map marked the cabins he knew about, but he couldn’t swear there weren’t others.”
“Huh, I took a good look at that map,” Charlie said. “We could search for years and never cover all these woods.”
“Or we could stumble on something today. We sure aren’t going to find anything sitting here jawing.” Wesley revved his motor. “Come on.”
The two engines whined like a band of angry bees as they plowed through the undergrowth, going deeper and deeper into the woods. Wesley led the way, and Charlie hung on his tail. About twenty minutes into their ride, Wesley brought his vehicle to a stop. “The hunter didn’t include this on his map. Let’s have a look.” The land had a slight dip, like maybe a creek once ran through it. Now, all that remained was a dry gulley no more than a foot deep.
Wesley followed the shallow indentation, paying special attention to what could have been part of its banks. He pushed aside leaves and mulch with a big stick and searched for any signs that someone might have lived in this area. “Hey, look at this?” He held up a small piece of pottery.
Charlie, who was several feet in front of him, held up another object. “Found something, too. Looks like the base of a big bowl. I think it has a design on it.”
“Maybe this used to be an Indian settlement. No telling how old these objects are. When I get time, I’ll see what I can find out about them. Right now, we need to stay with our plan.”
After searching for a couple of hours and finding nothing else, Wesley was ready to call it quits. About all he had accomplished today was to eliminate a small part of the map. “Okay, Charlie. Let’s head back to headquarters. Maybe we’ll have more luck the next time.”
A little before closing time, A. K. strolled through the Bawdy Boutique and into the office. She plopped her purse on the desk. “Hope you have something cold to drink in the fridge.” After opening a diet root beer and taking a sip, she turned her gaze on Susan. “How does a two-mile fun run sound? We don’t want to exhaust our clientele.”
Susan didn’t try to hide her disappointment. “That’s not exactly what I expected to hear from you...not from a person who could turn a funeral into a festival. There has to be more to it than that, right?”
An impish grin snaked across A. K.’s face. “Oh, yeah. First, keeping in the spirit of Halloween, participants will be required to wear costumes. That way, we can make a little profit while we do a good deed.”
Considering that A. K. was somewhat of a marketing genius, Susan nodded. “I’ll go for that.”
“Next, the starting time will be nine o’clock at night.”
Susan sat upright. “Are you serious?”
“Why not? Palmetto’s new one-mile jogging trail is lined with solar lights, and a bright, harvest moon is forecast for Halloween. They’d only have to lap the trail twice.”
“I don’t know. Running at night doesn’t sound like a good idea.”
A. K. leaned closer and scrutinized Susan’s face. “You didn’t have one of your psychic visions, did you?”
Susan shook her head.
“Good. And in case you do, keep it to yourself. I don’t want you messing with my mind. Besides, what could possibly go wrong?”
“What indeed? I expected something different from you, but never a race at night, and not just any night—Halloween. Did you forget that the jogging trail meanders alongside a swamp?”
“Nope. That’s even better.” A. K. crossed the room and put her hand on Susan’s shoulder. “You worry too much, kiddo. Nothing’s going to happen.”
Susan knew there was no changing A. K.’s mind. The only thing left to do was to join forces and make this the best fundraiser of all times. “Okay, where do we start?”
“I’ve checked my inventory, and the Purple Pickle has plenty of costumes in stock. What we’ll need is lots of advertising—spots on the radio and ads in the newspaper. We only have a couple of weeks.”
“What about flyers and posters?” Susan asked.
“I’ll handle that. Our part-timers, Nadine and Isabel, can distribute them. We’ll want to cover Palmetto and Hammond. Do you think Andrea at the Bra la Vie will put up a sign?”
“I’m sure she will. She’s always willing to help.”
“Then it’s settled. I’ll go tell Myrtle, and you can bring Melanie up to date. When I get back, I’ll work on designing the flyers. Debbie and Sheila are all for the idea and can’t wait to get into a costume.” A. K. picked up her purse and sauntered toward the front door. “Yep, this Halloween we’re going to rattle some bones.”
Before closing, Susan discussed the upcoming race with Melanie.
“You might want to pick out a costume tomorrow,” Susan said. “Once word gets out, they’ll probably fly off the shelves.”
“What are you going to wear?”
“Haven’t had time to give it a thought, but I will. Well, let’s call it a day.”
They walked out together then went their separate ways—Melanie to her home and two young children, and Susan to her apartment. No kiddies there, only Marmalade, her fluffy Calico. Right now, that worked for her.
The drive north to her Pine Crest Apartment was only a few miles, but it was a desolate stretch of road, bordered on one side by a narrow bayou and on both sides by thick woods, typical of many small towns in Louisiana. Tilly’s Diner and a closed-up hardware store were the only businesses along the route. Anxious to get home, she pushed the accelerator down, and the Camaro took the curves with ease.
Once in the apartment, she changed clothes, fed the cat, and began throwing a meal together. She cooked and drained some angel hair pasta then placed the buttered French bread into the oven. Crawfish stew, prepared the day before, simmered on the stove. All she had to do was heat the asparagus in the microwave. As she put the pitcher of iced tea on the table, the doorbell rang.
“Right on time,” she said, opening the door to Wesley. “The bread’s in the oven. I don’t want to burn it.” She wheeled around and hurried into the kitchen. After removing the bread, she turned off the oven and set the timer on the asparagus for one minute.
“Man, it sure smells good, and I’m starved.”
She handed him a plate. “Dish up.”
Neither wasted any time consuming the meal.
“I’m sure glad you decided to cook. I must say it tasted even better than it smelled.” Wesley took another swallow of iced tea. “So, how did your day go?”
“It was interesting, to say the least. A. K. is organizing an event to raise money for the food pantry.” Susan explained about the late night run on Halloween. “What do you think?”
“Leave it to her to come up with something like that. Sounds like fun to me, and the lower temps at night might encourage a bigger turnout.”
“Can I count on you to make sure things don’t get out of hand?”
“No way are you going to get me in a costume, but I’d be glad to work crowd control.”
“That’s what I was hoping.” She nibbled on a piece of French bread. “How was your trip into the woods?”
“All we found were some pieces of pottery. They couldn’t possibly have anything to do with my cold case.”
“I think that’s exciting. Do you have them with you?”
He shook his head.
“Would you show me where you found them? Maybe there are more artifacts there.”
“You are an adventurous soul. The woods are rugged there, and bugs are everywhere. Maybe when it turns colder and things go dormant, we might give it a try.”
“I’m going to hold you to that.” While Susan finished eating her stew, Wesley became sullen. He dropped his head and picked at his stew. “I can tell there’s something else that’s bothering you,” she said.
“Yeah, you know me too well. I’m at the point where I’m willing to try anything for a lead on my cold case, even giving Kara a shot.”
Susan kept her composure, although
that was not what she wanted to hear. Forecasting things because of the way Tarot cards unfolded just didn’t make sense to her. It seemed that one could read what they wanted into a situation. But what she believed shouldn’t matter. Asking for Kara’s help was Wesley’s decision to make. If she could give him encouragement, so be it. The truth would prevail in the end.
“I put in a call to the Orleans Police Department this afternoon and spoke with an officer who was familiar with Kara. He said he would send information on cases where she was called on to help. What do I have to lose?”
“Nothing. I might not agree with her methods, but if she can help you, that’s all that matters. When do you think you’ll hear something?”
“In a day or two.”
“If you decide to work with her, will you tell me what she says?”
“You know I will.”
Susan got up and put her plate in the sink. “Hand me yours. The dishes can wait till the morning.” She rinsed her hands and dried them. “Enough talk about Kara. How’s Charlie working out?”
“He’s a good cop, only young and still sowing his oats. Guess I can’t fault him for that. I just hope he doesn’t let his private life interfere with his professional life.”
“If anyone can keep him in line, you can,” she said wrapping her arms around his neck.
He pulled her close and nibbled at her ear. “I’m not his daddy...but sometimes he makes me feel like an old man.”
“Well, old man, what do you say we take this conversation down the hall?”
Susan woke at the first light of day with her head nestled on Wesley’s shoulder. After last night he had put the myth of him being an old man to rest. She turned his head toward her and kissed him. “I’d love to spend the whole day here with you, but we both know that can’t happen.”
“Yeah, if I don’t show up, Charlie will come looking for me.” He tucked her hair behind her ear and kissed her neck. “You make it hard to say goodbye.”
Mellow Yellow, Dead Red Page 2
