Death is Long Overdue (Phee Jefferson Book 1)

by Amy Lilly

  "I'll take you up on that offer. I've got a hot date tonight, so I need time to wax my ride." He attempted to leer at me but failed.

  Laughing, I shooed him out of the building. I finished turning everything off and headed out the door. As I walked to Velma, I heard someone call my name. Turning, I spotted Carla Karsen tottering on her 3-inch heels down the sidewalk towards me. I groaned. I avoided Carla like the plague. As the former head cheerleader at Miller's Cove High, she had roamed the halls with her pack of friends terrorizing everyone outside of her clique, including me. Although it was years ago, my blood still boiled every time I saw her. As town council member, she spoke out against the library at every town hall meeting. She wanted to tear down the 120-year-old building and replace it with a recreation center and pool. Her plan was to make a “reading room for the few people who still read the old-fashioned way.” I don't think she had cracked a book since reading Fox in Socks when she was five.

  Glaring, she teetered up to me. "I really think we need to talk before this next town council meeting. My idea will draw more young people and more money to the downtown area of Miller's Cove. People don't read books anymore, Ophelia. They can find all they need on the Internet. You need to realize that my idea is what this town needs. I plan to help the town grow and attract more families here. I'd be happy to have you come and work at the new fitness center. We could always use someone to help clean the pool."

  "Carla, I’m sure that in your mind you are convinced that you're right, but the rest of the town council doesn't agree. Maybe if you actually tried to read a book..." I trailed off before I stuck my foot into my mouth even further. I disliked Carla intensely. She always made me feel awkward. It didn't matter that I was an educated, professional woman. Whenever Carla came around me, I felt like the same fifteen-year-old girl with bad hair and braces. She had never been an ugly duckling, and she used her looks to her advantage every chance she got.

  "Listen, you little bitch, you think you are so damn smart. Mark my words, I will get my way and when I do, I will make sure you never find another job in this town." She poked me in the chest with her pointy, hot pink nails.

  "Hey there, pretty lady. You are coming to the concert over at the high school tonight, aren’t you?" Cincinnati walked over to me. Carla huffed and backed away from me.

  "Not tonight, Charlie." I was grateful for the interruption.

  "I'll talk to you later," Carla threatened. She spun on her heels and tottered on down the sidewalk.

  "You looked like you needed rescuing there, Phee. You okay?" Charlie asked.

  "Thanks, Charlie. I'm okay. Just tired and ready to go home. I'll see you tomorrow, alright?" I turned back towards my van and climbed in.

  "Alright. You have any more problems with that one," he said pointing down the sidewalk towards Carla's retreating back, "you just let me know. She's a piece of work."

  "I will. Thanks again. Have a good evening." I fired up Velma and pointed her towards home, a hot cup of tea, and much needed peace and quiet.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “Will you pretend you’re my boyfriend?” - Patti Smith, Just Kids

  Walking in my front door, I was greeted by a loud meow echoing from the kitchen. Ferdinand was waiting for his dinner and made sure I knew he was not a happy fat cat. Once I had filled his fish-shaped bowl with chow, I put the kettle on the stove to boil. I opened my vintage turquoise refrigerator to scrounge for something to eat. Grabbing out a bag of romaine lettuce, an avocado and some leftover chicken, I decided to throw together a quick salad. The teapot began to whistle. As I turned off the burner, my phone trilled.

  "Hello?" I answered and stretched the phone cord over to the counter so I could make some peppermint tea and prepare my salad.

  "Hi, honey. It's Mom," said my mother like I wouldn't recognize her voice after twenty-eight years. "Did you hear the news? Huey Long was murdered in his home!"

  Sighing, I stirred honey into my tea. Nestling the phone onto my shoulder, I carried my plate and mug to my turquoise Formica table and settled onto a matching vinyl chair. "Yes, Mom, I did. It was all anyone could talk about at work today. No one had anything nice to say about Mr. Long. He was just a jerk."

  "Well, I heard that he was strangled. According to Sheila," Mom lowered her voice, "he was in his birthday suit." Mom didn't need to read the newspaper. She got the news through her bridge game. Sheriff Dawes' wife, Sheila, played cards with my mom every week.

  "Hmmm....well, that's news to me." There was no way I was going to tell my parents that I had broken into a house in a disguise and stumbled over a corpse. "What time do I need to be there next Sunday and do you want me to bring anything?"

  "Five sharp and it would be nice if you would bring a date." My mother had recently resorted to dropping hints that she and Dad weren't getting any younger and would love to see my sister and I settle down and have children. My brother Rick was expecting twins with his wife, Carrie. I had mistakenly believed the babies’ pending arrival would keep her from pestering me. The steam engine called Mom had slowed but not stopped.

  "I don't have a date to bring, Mom, so I guess I’ll just bring dessert," I responded dryly. I sneaked a bite of salad and held the phone away from my mouth while I chewed quickly. "Who else is coming to the party?"

  "Your brother and Carrie, Clint and his date, and Uncle Joe and Aunt Sarah are coming. Uncle Paul might come down, but he's not sure. A bunch of other people called and said they were coming, too. I need to call the caterer tomorrow with the final count," Mom said.

  "Clint's bringing a date?" My heart sank a little. I hadn't heard anything on the rumor mill, but I also hadn't asked.

  "Well, I assume he is. I told him to bring someone. I know he broke up with Simone a few weeks ago, but I heard through the grapevine that he was interested in someone new," Mom continued. She was oblivious to my heartbreak over her news.

  Abruptly I said, "I'm sorry, Mom, but I've got to go. My dinner is getting cold. I'll see you on Sunday. Love you."

  "Love you, too, honey."

  Standing up, I trudged across my black and white tile floor to hang the phone up. I don't know why I was surprised or upset that Clint was interested in someone new. After all, he was handsome and had a great sense of humor. He was just really an all- around nice guy. His only fault was that he went through girlfriends like I went through a bag of chocolate chip cookies. Fast. His most recent girlfriend, Simone, was an attorney from Burlington. I actually liked her because she was smart, accomplished, and pretty without being bitchy. Not that I wasn't glad that Clint wasn't with her. I just wished I could figure out how to get him to realize that I was a grown woman and not a kid anymore. I speared some chicken and lettuce onto a fork.

  "Ferdie, my friend," I said to him as he coiled in and out of my chair legs, "it is time for me to realize that Clint is not interested in me and move on. I just need to get over him and get a life." I stood up, walked to the sink and washed my few dishes. Drying my hands on my vintage days-of-the-week tea towel, I decided I might just have to bring my own date to the party on Sunday. It was time I put away the fantasies and started to living in the real world. “But before I do that," I reached down and picked up Ferdie to carry him with me, "let's watch Roman Holiday one more time."

  I changed into my flannel pajamas covered with sheep dressed in various cocktail dresses holding glasses of wine. I shoved my feet into my favorite skunk slippers and pulled my unruly curls into a ponytail on the top of my head. Grabbing a quilt in varying shades of blue that my grandmother had made for me, I walked to my living room and settled onto my 1920's chaise lounge. The only concession to the modern age in the living room was my television and DVD player which I had tastefully hidden in one of the many built-in mahogany bookcases. I loved my house. Each room was decorated in a style from the early half of the 20th century. My lack of social life had one perk. It gave me plenty of time to hunt through the antique stores searching for the perfect pieces to add to my
home. Hitting "play" on the remote control, the opening theme song played and I snuggled into my blanket.

  Just as I was getting comfortable, my doorbell buzzed. Sighing, I stood up and walked into the foyer to peek through the side window before opening the door. It was Clint, and I was in flannel sheep pajamas and skunk slippers. Great. But what did I care? I had decided to move on. I opened the door.

  "Hey there, Flea," Clint said. A slow smile spread across his face as his green eyes took in my fashion ensemble. He wasn't good looking in a movie star perfect looks kind of way. He was more ruggedly handsome. Clint looked like a cowboy who worked hard and spent time out on the range roping calves and sleeping next to a campfire. His nose was slightly crooked from where my brother broke it accidentally when they got too rough playing football one Saturday at our house when we were kids. He had a little dimple in his chin that my mother always said was where an angel had kissed him when he was born.

  "I told you to quit calling me that! I'm not twelve years old anymore. I am a twenty-eight-year-old woman. An adult!" I glowered at him. "What do you want?"

  "A little touchy tonight, aren't you? Those sheep pajamas and slippers scream twelve years old, but I like them. They are most definitely you. I just came to give you an update on the case. Can I come inside?" Clint asked. I opened the door wider and motioned him inside. He wasn't in his uniform. Instead, he wore some old faded jeans, a pair of dusty cowboy boots and a forest green shirt that made his eyes appear even greener. My heart beat a little faster.

  "I was just getting ready to watch a movie. Come on into the kitchen while I make some popcorn." I walked with as much dignity as I could muster while little skunk tails trailed behind my feet. I opened the cupboard and pulled out a pan. I poured some oil into it and turned on the stove. "Would you like something to drink?"

  "Do you have any coffee? It's been a really long day, and I am beat." He settled onto one of my kitchen chairs. I began to scoop coffee into my Sunbeam percolator.

  "Why do you do that?" Clint asked. I plugged in the pot. I grabbed a bag of popcorn as the oil in the pan started to sizzle. I placed one kernel of corn in the pan and waited for it to pop.

  "Do what?" I asked. The kernel soon popped up and out of the pan. I quickly poured more corn in and covered the pan with a lid. The pings of the kernels as they exploded inside the pan soon echoed throughout the kitchen. I shook the pan to keep them from burning.

  "Why is everything in your house old? A percolator instead of a new coffeepot. An old refrigerator. Making popcorn on the stove instead of in the microwave like the rest of the world." Clint gestured towards the stove.

  "I guess I just like vintage things. Everything in the world moves really fast these days. I think that’s why I love books so much, too. Everyone wants things to be like a sitcom nowadays. They want instant gratification and their problems solved in 30 minutes. In novels, you get to know the characters. The stories take time to develop. You can put the book down and come back to it later and be in that world again. With TV, once that half hour or hour is over, that's it. To me, things that take time just seem better." I shrugged and gave the pan a last shake and pulled it off the stove. The percolator gave its final perk. I poured coffee into the mugs and placed one on the table in front of Clint. He took a slow sip.

  "You might be right about the coffee at least. This is the best cup I've had in a long time." He settled back into his seat and took another sip. "The preliminary results are in on Huey Long which is why I am here. Estimated time of death was around 5 p.m. That puts you in the clear since you were seen leaving the library with Juliet at 5 p.m., and everyone in town knows you always have dinner at Mimi's Restaurant with your sister on Thursday night."

  "Great. I am so glad my boring, predictable life gives me an alibi," I said as I dumped the popcorn in a bowl. I grabbed a few pieces and popped them into my mouth. Delicious. There was nothing better than fresh popped popcorn.

  "You're not boring, Phee. You are dependable, and you care about your family. That's a good thing," Clint replied and grabbed a handful of popcorn as I sat down next to him.

  "What about his...you know....his..." I blushed as I tried to ask about the "state" of Huey when I found him.

  Clint smiled at my discomfort. "Well, yes. There was that. It seems like Huey Long had an online love affair going with a woman in the Ukraine. They had a standing "date" night on Thursday which accounts for him being naked. As for the other thing, we found a newly filled bottle of Viagra in the bathroom with three pills missing. It appears he wanted to last an extra-long time for Natasha. We found out quite a bit through his internet chat history and his credit card bill with a repeated $250 charge every Thursday to Hot Ukrainian Chicks dot com. That's all we know for now but at least that puts you in the clear. I may have to arrest you for killing skunks out of season to make those slippers though."

  "Very funny. That’s pretty disgusting about Huey and his Internet love affair. I need to burn that image out of my mind. Huey Long and his lady love doing a computer sex chat. Gross!" I shook my head trying to shake the image from my mind. "But I am glad that I'm not a suspect."

  "What movie are you watching?" Clint asked. Reaching over to the bowl, he snagged another handful of popcorn and tossed pieces one by one into his mouth.

  "Roman Holiday with Audrey Hepburn. It's my all-time favorite,” I replied.

  "Never seen it," Clint admitted.

  "What? You're kidding me! You are missing out on a classic. You should watch it." I popped another piece of popcorn into my mouth.

  "Is that an invitation?" He grinned at me.

  "You can stay if you want, but you can't talk during the movie. It's my biggest pet peeve!" I warned and my heart skipped a beat in anticipation.

  He grabbed up the bowl of popcorn and headed towards the living room. He settled onto the old leather couch. Not wanting to be too bold, I sat back down on my chaise lounge. I told myself that this was just him being nice to a girl he considered his little sister. Secretly, though, I was thrilled. I was doing cartwheels of joy in my brain. I restarted the movie and the theme song continued from where I had stopped it. A few minutes later, I heard a gentle chuffing sound from the couch. Clint had fallen asleep. I grabbed the throw I had on the back of the couch and covered him up. Poor guy really must have been exhausted from the long day. I watched him sleep for a minute, then I smiled and settled back to watch Audrey Hepburn and Gregory Peck fall in love.

  I awoke to Clint placing a blanket over me. The television was playing The Star Spangled Banner with a flag waving in the background. The movie must have ended hours ago.

  "What're you doing?" I mumbled sleepily. "What time is it?"

  "I've got to get home, Phee. You go back to sleep, and I'll see you tomorrow," Clint whispered. I snuggled deeper into the covers and felt myself dozing. A moment later, I heard the front door open and close. Before he left me, I could have sworn Clint kissed me on my head. Enjoying what must have been a dream, I drifted back to sleep.

  CHAPTER NINE

  “It is a pleasant world we live in, sir, a very pleasant world. There are bad people in it, Mr. Richard, but if there were no bad people, there would be no good lawyers.” - Charles Dickens, The Old Curiosity Shop

  I awoke Saturday morning to two bright green eyes inches from my face. Unfortunately, they were not the green eyes of Clint but of the twenty-five pound cat sitting on my chest waiting patiently for his breakfast. Who needs an alarm clock when they have a cat with a bottomless stomach and no boundaries?

  I stretched, patted Ferdie and gently pushed him to the floor. I got up and walked to the kitchen to feed him and start my morning coffee. It was my Saturday to work. I hurried to jump in the shower while my coffee perked merrily away on the counter. My bathroom was a glorious flamingo pink with black accents. Even the toilet was pink. As I dried myself off, I inspected my face in the gilt mirror over the sink. I had long, strawberry-blonde curls and unlike some redheads, only a light d
usting of freckles across the bridge of my nose. I had gray eyes that sometimes appeared blue depending on what I wore. I had my dad's coloring and my mother's short, curvy build. I wouldn't win a beauty contest, but I wouldn't kick myself out of the bed.

  I dressed in a comfortable pair of jeans since Saturday was also the day when most of the weekly cleaning at the library took place. I pulled a bright blue ribbed turtleneck over my head and added a long strand of freshwater pearls with matching earrings. I slipped my feet into a pair of black clogs and clomped back to the kitchen. Filling my to-go mug with hot coffee, I added cream, sugar and just a hint of cinnamon and nutmeg in honor of the brisk fall weather. I smeared a bagel with some cream cheese and headed out the door.

  When I pulled up to the library, I saw that Cincinnati was sitting outside waiting for me to open the doors. On the Saturdays that I opened up, I let him come in early with me. He kept me company, and he helped empty all the garbage cans.

  "Morning, Charlie!" I greeted him. I unlocked the doors. Once we were in the building, I locked the doors behind us. We still had about fifteen minutes until opening.

  "Morning," Charlie responded grumpily. He went over to the garbage can next to the door and pulled the bag out. He was always cheerful when he came in, so his dour expression was unusual for him.

  "What's the matter?" I asked as I turned on all the lights and then began to switch on all of the computers. "You aren't your usual cheerful self. More importantly, you haven't given me one baseball fact this morning. Are you sick?"

  "Aw, it’s nothing," he replied. He headed behind the circulation desk to grab the trash. "I just ran into that Carla Karsen outside a little bit before you got here. She was going on and on about how nice a fitness center would be and that some people could do with a little bit of exercise instead of sitting and reading a book all day. It just made me angry."