Death is Long Overdue (Phee Jefferson Book 1)

by Amy Lilly

  I once again headed down the road and turned onto Willow Street towards my home. Pulling up, I saw a truck sitting in my driveway. Leaning against the side of it and talking on his cell phone was Deputy Clint Mason.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “Among my stillness was a pounding heart.” - Shannon A. Thompson, Seconds Before Sunrise

  I could have kept on driving and acted like I didn't see him. Instead, I decided to put on my big girl granny panties and pull in next to him. I hopped out of Velma and tried to stroll casually towards him. Not easy to do with a dead body on my mind and a sexy deputy sheriff in my driveway. Clint had wavy dark brown hair and the greenest eyes that I hoped would undress me. Maybe one day his hands would undress me for real.

  "Hi, Clint. What's up?" I asked in what I hoped was a nonchalant voice. I continued past him, stepped onto my porch and unlocked my door.

  "Really?" Clint's incredulous response told me that the game was up. He clipped his phone back into the case on his belt. "You call the sheriff's office and report a dead body pretending to be...oh, hell, I don't know and you ask me what's up?" He strode up the steps and brushed past me into the house. "You want to tell me what kind of crazy stunt you are up to now?"

  "I don't do crazy stunts, thank you very much." I tried to sound indignant, but I was so nervous my voice cracked a little.

  "If it's not a crazy stunt you and Juliet cooked up on your girls' night out, then what in the Sam Hill is going on?" Clint walked into my kitchen, opened the refrigerator and pulled out a pitcher of iced tea. Even though he had spent time at my home growing up, I felt an intimate domesticity with him at the moment. Despite the trauma of the evening, I couldn't help but appreciate how good his rear end looked in his khakis. Good googly moogly, he was fine. "Start talking, Phee. I want you to tell me why in the world you would call the sheriff’s department to report a dead body anonymously." Clint reached into the cupboard and pulled glasses out. He turned and leaned against the counter looking at me expectantly.

  Seating myself at the kitchen table, I took a deep breath and told him that I had gone to Huey Long's house to get all of his overdue books and discovered him naked and dead in the middle of his living room. I left out the part about me mooning the world when my pants came off. I felt some things were better to keep secret. Besides it was not relevant to the case, darn it!

  "Let me see if I understand this. You broke into his house, found his body and decided not to call an ambulance. You just assumed he was dead? Ah, Phee, you've really put me in a bad spot here." I refused to look at him because if I did I would burst into tears and end up splotchy and snotty and not potential hot girlfriend material.

  "I didn’t assume anything. Trust me. He was most definitely dead. An ambulance wouldn't have changed that and I panicked! I've never seen a dead body. It is way different in real life than when you read about it in an Agatha Christie novel. Clint, I am sorry. Please don't arrest me!" I pleaded and felt the tears welling in my eyes. In one quick move, he was across the room and pulling me out of the chair and into his arms.

  "Don't cry, Flea. I won't be arresting you. I know you pretty well, and I think I can safely say that you didn't kill anyone. More importantly, your brother would kill me and your mom would bury me in her vegetable garden if I slapped cuffs on you." He ruffled my strawberry blonde curls like I was still twelve years old and following him around asking for a ride on his dirt bike. Unlike my brother's other friends, Clint would always find a few minutes to talk to me before hopping onto his bike and roaring off with my brother to "pick up chicks."

  "Thanks," I sniffled. "Don't call me Flea. You know I hate that name." Pulling myself away from him, I walked over and poured two glasses of tea and handed one to him. Trying to compose myself, I took my time adding sugar to my glass. "And thanks for not thinking I'm a murderess. I would not do well in prison. Orange clashes with my hair."

  "You are not completely off the hook yet. Drink your tea and let's head over to the scene. We need to meet Deputy Thompson. Just in case you weren’t joking, I sent him over there to check things out. I got a call from him right before you pulled up. He verified Huey Long is definitely dead."

  CHAPTER SIX

  “I am Dead, but it's not so bad. I've learned to live with it.” -Isaac Marion, Warm Bodies

  Fifteen minutes later, we pulled in behind a patrol car. Stepping out of Clint's truck, I spotted yellow crime scene tape circling the yard. My vision grayed and I felt a little light-headed. Huey Long was dead, and I was involved in a criminal investigation. Grasping the door handle, I steadied myself and took a deep breath. If Miss Marple could handle a crime scene, Ophelia Jefferson definitely could. I started to walk towards the house with what I hoped was a determined, yet innocent, look on my face.

  "Whoa! Cool your engines there, Phee." Clint grasped my arm to stop me. "I need you to take me step-by-step through your movements. I need to be able to exclude anything belonging to you. But first I need to go talk to Mark and see what he's found so far. Right now you should get back in the truck and wait for me to come get you. Understand?"

  Silently, I nodded my head and climbed back in the truck. I wasn’t going to argue with him at this point. I watched Clint head into the house. I was somewhat relieved to get a short reprieve. I wasn’t particularly looking forward to seeing the body again. The Addams Family theme song boomed out in the truck cab. Jumping in my seat, I hit my head on the window, cursed and rummaged quickly in my messenger bag for my cell phone.

  "Where are you?" Juliet hissed through the phone.

  "Thanks for abandoning me," I answered sarcastically. "I thought you were following me to my house."

  "I did follow you. I followed you and kept right on going when I saw you and Clint heading into the house. What's going on? You answered your phone, so I know you aren't in cuffs, but let me know if I need to go ask Mom and Dad for bail money. Glad it's you and not me needing it." Juliet could never be serious. I could be bleeding on the side of the road and somehow she’d be able to crack a joke.

  "Ha ha. Very funny. Seriously, do not say a word to anyone about this. I didn't tell Clint you met me at the crime scene. As far as he knows, it was me all by my lonesome and let's just keep it that way. If Mom and Dad find out about this they are going to kill me. Better only one of us is in jail. I am here at Huey’s house now waiting to go through things with Clint and Deputy Thompson. Go home and keep your lips zipped. If you spill the beans, I’ll tell everyone all about your weekend stay in the county clink when you went to Florida for spring break," I threatened. "I’ll call you tomorrow morning and give you an update. Remember what I said. Not a word."

  "Sheesh. I won't say anything. I’m not the one who broke into a house under dark of night with a mask on, my jail bird sister. I am just an innocent bystander,” Juliet said lightly. “I’m just kidding. Seriously, Phee, I love you. If you need me, call me and I promise I’ll be there." Juliet hung up before I could respond. One thing about Juliet, she might be a little bit of a granola-eating hippie, but I knew she would be standing right by my side in a fight. I tucked the phone back into my bag. Looking up, I saw Clint striding towards the truck. He did not look happy. In fact, he looked downright grim. I stepped out of the truck and headed his way.

  "I need you to walk me through from the time you left Velma to the time you got back into her," Clint said as he walked up next to me. We headed towards the backyard. He turned on his large flashlight and skimmed it over scene.

  "I came through Mrs. Grimes' back yard and then walked up to the window right there." I pointed to the window with the squashed tulips. Huey prided himself on his beautiful flower beds and I felt a pang of remorse for stepping on them. "The window was open a crack. I pushed it up and climbed through." I reached over to the window to show him what I had done earlier in the evening.

  "Hold on! Don't touch anything. What is that caught on the window?" Pulling on latex gloves, he reached over and plucked a bit of red off the frame of
the window. He held it up to inspect it under his flashlight. I felt a crimson tide wash over me as I realized it was a piece of the red lace thong I was currently wearing. I guess the window had caught more than just my pants.

  "Um...that’s from me. I, uh, accidentally caught myself on the frame as I climbed in," I stammered.

  "Your pants are black." Clint peered down at me with a grin on his face. "When did you find time to change?"

  "Those are from my panties, if you must know. My pants were tugged off by the window frame because I got stuck," I said with as much dignity as I could muster. Please let the great god of sinkholes take pity on me and suck me into the bowels of the earth right this very moment.

  "I will make a note of that in my report." His eyes twinkling, he walked towards the back door and motioned for me to follow. "I don't want you to climb back through the window and moon Deputy Thompson. Let's just use the door, okay?"

  "Thanks," I said and tossed my hair in an attempt to look composed and cool. I marched through the door and towards the living room. I stopped when I saw Deputy Thompson leaning over the body.

  "Well, Ms. Jefferson, you certainly found yourself a heap of trouble tonight." Deputy Mark Thompson had known me since I begged him at eight years old to take me to a crime scene so I could try out my Junior Girl Detective Kit. He’d retired a few years ago but found fishing wasn't enough to keep him occupied and out of his wife's hair, so he came back to work part-time.

  "Hey there, Mark." I smiled weakly at him. "It's nice to see you but not really very nice to be here next to a dead body."

  "What's the verdict, Mark?" Clint knelt down next to the body. Now that the lights were on in the house, I could see that a belt was buckled tightly around Huey's neck causing his eyes to bulge slightly. His Mr. Winky was still standing at full mast, too. I felt slightly queasy at the sight of him.

  "Based on what I’ve found so far, he was definitely strangled. We’ll have to wait for Doc to make the official determination though. His laptop is open on the desk and from what I saw he had some really interesting taste in porn. Don't you look over there, Ms. Jefferson. Ladies don't need to be looking at that kind of trash. The killer must have walked in the unlocked back door and somehow sneaked up on him while he was sitting at the desk. I saw some scuff marks in the carpet over there. The killer must have dragged him over here and laid him out. I also found some footprints in the dirt next to the back door. I marked it with an evidence flag and took a photo. Whoever was standing out there was wearing a pair of tennis shoes. It looks to be a fairly small-sized shoe. I'm not sure what brand."

  "Thanks, Matt. Phee, did you touch anything in the room? See or hear anything when you were here?" Clint interrogated me.

  "I was wearing gloves, but no, I didn't touch anything in this room besides the books. I touched the window and the back door. I’m pretty sure that was it. It was dark, and I only had a little penlight. I really couldn't see anything." I felt my gaze drawn inadvertently back to the body. I wished at that moment that I had not listened to Juliet. I should have stayed a nice girl with her nose buried in her books.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “As long as there was coffee in the world, how bad could things be?” -Cassandra Clare, City of Ashes

  The next morning I slowly crawled my way into work clutching the largest coffee I could buy at Nellie Jo's Cup o' Joe. My eyes felt gritty and my brain was filled with sand. I was a girl who needed eight hours of sleep to even pass for human. Glancing up at me as I came behind the circulation desk, Wade, my part-time clerk, tech guru and occasional janitor, turned the front page of the newspaper towards me.

  "You look like crap. Did you see this? Someone finally killed that jerk, Huey Long. Good riddance, I say. That man was a walking billboard advertising trouble." Wade was ex-Army and was never known for mincing his words. "Every time he came in here and opened his mouth, I just wanted to drop kick his little ass right back out to the curb."

  "I found the body!" I blurted it out before I could stop myself. So much for my plan of not letting anyone know. Clint was going to kill me. He promised to try to keep my name out of the newspaper. I should just take out a front page ad in the newspaper and tell everyone. There was a good reason Juliet often accused me of having "diarrhea of the mouth." I really wasn't very good at keeping secrets.

  "Say what? How in the heck did you find him? He was killed in his home according to the paper, and I know he wasn't high on your list of prospective dating partners. What was it that you said? I think it was something like 'I would rather burn my eyeballs out with a hot iron poker than date that evil little man.' But, hey, maybe I misunderstood." Wade smirked at me.

  "You and my sister, Juliet, ought to form a comedy team. She thinks she’s hilarious, too. As a matter of fact, I went there to get our books that he refused to bring back or pay for, thank you very much. I found him dead and called the sheriff's office." I grabbed the paper from him, settled onto a stool and sipped my coffee.

  "Wow! The article said that he was found strangled, but they aren't releasing any more details at this time. Tell me everything that the paper isn’t saying. Remember, we have ways of making you talk. Mwahaha!” Wade threatened while giving his best impression of an evil interrogator. He set down the mail he was sorting and peered at me intently. “Spill it, Phee!”

  "Not much else to tell. His back door was open so I went in. I found him strangled and got out of there as quickly as I could in case the murderer was still there. Then I called the sheriff's office. End of story." There was no way I was going to tell anyone what I saw. Clint had threatened me with everything short of death if I blabbed. I decided to keep my mouth shut. He was going to be angry that I told Wade as much as I had.

  "You're lucky you weren't hurt. What were you thinking going over there by yourself? First of all, Huey Long was an ass. Second of all, no book is worth you getting molested by the troll. If you wanted someone to go crack some kneecaps and do collections, you should've taken me with you." Wade cracked his knuckles in his imitation of a mafia hit man.

  "I waited until I knew he’d be out of his house. I just planned on sneaking in, grabbing the books and leaving. I didn't expect to find him there. Dead or alive. You know he always does karaoke on Thursday nights. I thought I would be perfectly safe. In and out in five minutes. Problem solved. Now, I’m a witness in a murder case." I sipped my coffee and wrapped one of my red curls around my finger in an attempt to look casual. "Clint Mason is the investigator on the case."

  "If you say so, but I know you're not telling me everything. You always twist on your hair when you lie." He rolled out from behind the desk. He grabbed the books to be shelved off the cart and headed into the stacks. "And please stop mooning over Clint and just tell him."

  "Nothing to tell," I murmured under my breath. "And I'm not lying!" I said the last bit loud enough for Wade to hear me. I could hear him laugh as he rolled down the aisle between the shelves.

  For the rest of the day, I tried to make myself scarce by dusting and shelving all of the books rather than stay at the desk. Wade worked at circulation desk and stayed busy checking people's books out to them. The murder was the only thing anyone could talk about.

  "Hey there, pretty lady. Did ya hear the big news?" Startled, I dropped the DVDs I was shelving.

  "Hi, Cincinnati. Yes, I heard about the murder. It’s all anyone wants to talk about today," I said resignedly. I knew I’d be dragged into the gossip eventually.

  "Murder? I’m talking about the Reds being named Wilson Defensive Team of the Year. That's the type of news I'm talking about!" Charlie "Cincinnati" Cochran was a regular visitor at the Miller’s Cove Library. He came daily to read the paper and talk sports with anyone who would listen. I tried to tell him that I didn't know diddly about baseball, but he would continue to tell me play by play every game of his favorite team, the Cincinnati Reds. Charlie had been the town's head groundskeeper for the parks and public greens for years until he retired five ye
ars ago. Since then, he followed a daily routine. He hit Nellie Jo's Cup o' Joe first thing and then meandered his way towards the library before heading towards the senior center for lunch and a game of chess in the afternoon. He was getting up in years. Last winter he had taken a nasty fall on the ice and broken his shoulder. Charlie had never married and had no family, so we all tried to keep an eye out for him.

  "That's awesome. Bet that made your day." I leaned down to pick up the DVDs I dropped. "The only thing anyone else is talking about is the murder of Huey Long."

  "That bag of wind. I can't say I'm sorry to hear it. I didn't like the way he grabbed you the other day. Made me want to kick him right in his behind!" Charlie made a kicking motion and grinned at me. "You can count on old Charlie here to look out for you."

  Patting Charlie on his arm, I told him I would talk to him later and headed towards the back office. I decided to attempt to get some paperwork done until it was time to close up and go home. Avoiding people was exhausting.

  At five o'clock, Wade announced the library was closed and began shutting down the computers and locking up. I saw him wince when he caught his hand between the desk and his chair and felt a twinge of guilt. Wade's Humvee had rolled over an IED outside of Fallujah. He lost both of his legs, but he never complained. He was the only one of his team who had survived. He had come home from Walter Reed Hospital a year ago and asked me for a job. He didn't need the money, but he said he needed to be busy to keep his demons at bay. I paid him a pittance from my meager budget, but he didn't care. He said the books in the library allowed him to travel to places "a helluva lot better than that hot ass sandbox I was in."

  "I can lock up if you want to head out of here," I offered.