by Rose Pressey
“Thank-you.” I watched as he stepped off the porch.
Charlotte studied her fingernails. “Yeah, sure, he’ll stop by and see you if he finds out anything. Heck, I think he’ll just stop by even if he doesn’t find out anything.”
I shushed her.
Dylan turned around. “Did you say something?”
“No, it must have been the wind,” I said.
He looked up at the still tree, then climbed into his car and drove away.
“You get me in trouble every time I’m around him,” I said to Charlotte as I walked down the sidewalk toward my car.
“Since we are early and you didn’t eat breakfast, this is the perfect time for you to stop in and say hello to Dixie Bryant. We went to high school together, you know? That was many years ago,” Charlotte said.
I looked over at my companion, who was sitting in the passenger seat. “Why did I know you were going to have an assignment for me this morning?”
“That’s why you were trying to sneak out of the house.” Disapproval was splashed all over her face.
“For the last time, I wasn’t trying to sneak out.”
Okay, I was, but I couldn’t admit to it. The fact was, I had wanted to see Dixie. It had been too long since we’d had a chat and I needed someone to steer me in the right direction. Dixie had been like a second mother to me when I was young. Now, she felt like an older, much wiser sister. I thought Dixie liked thinking of herself that way, too.
Chapter 30
Heather’s Heartfelt Tip for Getting Rid of an Unwanted Ghost
A Ghostbusters backpack or a magic wand
will not get rid of an unwanted ghost.
You have to use your heart to wish them away.
I pointed the car in the direction of It’s Vintage, Y’all, dropped off Wind Song, and headed to Glorious Grits.
“I’m glad that you didn’t put up a fight about going to Dixie’s. I’d hate to have to wake you with my singing again.” Charlotte watched the scenery of oak trees and blue sky.
“Yeah, like I have a choice.” I parked and we entered the restaurant, jingling the cowbell above the door.
Patrons stopped what they were doing and looked up. Almost every time, they knew who’d walked through the door and today was no exception. I was greeted warmly as I made my way across the room, tossing my hand up at a few of the regulars.
Red and white checkered tablecloths covered the tables and every inch of space on the walls was adorned with a picture or a sign with some cutesy saying like Country Cookin’ Makes You Good-lookin’. Booths lined the walls and tables were in the middle of the room. The smell of apple pie lingered in the air. Dixie made the best apple pie for miles around . . . other than the pie my grandmother used to make, of course.
I’d tried Granny’s recipe many times, but mine never came out quite as good. Dixie had homemade ice cream to top off the pie, too.
I snagged an empty booth.
Dixie hurried over with a pot of coffee and a menu. “Hey, here’s my favorite fashion diva.” She wore a red and white checkered apron over her white T-shirt and jeans. Of course, she had on her signature big-rimmed white eyeglasses.
I didn’t need the menu, having eaten there so often over the years, but I gave my best attempt at a smile. It was hard to say what my favorite thing on the menu was. Dixie claimed her specialty was fried green tomatoes. She wouldn’t reveal the secret ingredient, although I’d asked many times. She’d probably take that info to the grave.
Charlotte sat across from me. “Now make sure to tell her everything. I know she will help you figure out how to solve this case. Dixie always had a level head and knows what’s best.”
I scanned the crowd, pretending to watch Dixie rush around the diner like a hummingbird. Luckily, no one seemed to pay any more attention to me. I was paranoid that someone would catch me talking to Charlotte.
Dixie placed a mug on the table and sat across from me.
Charlotte scooted aside, out of the way. “Don’t forget to eat breakfast. And set that coffee over here where I can smell it. Mmm, Dixie uses just the right amount of chicory in it.”
“I’m glad you finally came in. I thought I was going to have to come and get you,” Dixie said.
“Well, I’ve been awfully busy.”
“You’re never too busy to see me,” she said.
I chuckled. “No, you’re right. I’m never too busy to see you.” I dumped sugar into my coffee and stirred, then took a sip and looked at her over the top of the mug.
Dixie said, “You look worried. Tell me what’s going on.”
I set the mug down. “What makes you think anything is wrong?”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake. She’s not stupid. You got that droopy look on your face and anyone can tell you are down in the dumps. Now come clean with her so we can get this moving. I have places to go,” Charlotte said.
Yeah, like she had anywhere else to go.
Dixie looked at me funny when she saw me scowling at nothing beside her.
“Okay, I guess there is something bothering me.”
“Well, that’s what I’m here for. Talk to me.” Dixie smiled.
I traced the edge of my mug with my finger. “It’s just everything that’s happened. You know, the murders in town and the fact that I discovered a dead man in the alley.”
She folded her hands together. “I figured that was what was wrong, but I didn’t want to mention anything. I didn’t want to bring it up if you didn’t want to discuss it. I knew you would when you were ready.”
“What do you think happened?” I asked.
She leaned back against the booth. “I think bad things can happen even in small towns. You shouldn’t let these things worry you. They are out of your control.”
I played with my napkin. “Yeah, but it is bothering me. Do you think the killer is still around town?”
The delicate features on her face tensed. “I think it’s possible, but I certainly hope not. It’s scary to think that a dangerous person could come into the diner or walk past us on the street.”
I took a sip and then said, “Yeah, I think about that often.”
“Is there something else you want to say?” She touched my hand.
“Here’s your chance to tell her,” Charlotte pushed.
I looked around to see who might be listening to us. “Well, I guess that isn’t all that’s on my mind.”
Dixie smiled. “I’m listening.”
“I know this will sound crazy, but I have to tell someone. Well, Heather knows, but that’s because she is . . . well, she just knows. Anyway . . . do you believe in ghosts?” I studied Dixie’s face.
Dixie pondered the question, then said, “Yes, I do.”
I patted her hand. “That was the answer I was hoping for.”
“What makes you ask?” She arched a brow behind her big glasses.
I scanned the diner again.
“Oh, no one can hear you. Just go ahead and tell her,” Charlotte said.
I cleared my throat. “There’s a ghost sitting next to you right now.”
Dixie glanced beside her, then she looked at me again. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”
“I’m afraid so,” I said.
She scooted away from Charlotte. “Who is the ghost?”
“Well, here is the tricky part. It’s the ghost of Charlotte Meadows.” I watched Dixie’s face for her reaction.
Dixie lowered her voice. “Charlotte Meadows is sitting next to me?”
I drew my attention to where Charlotte sat.
“Tell her that I used to come in and order the pancakes with no butter and extra syrup.”
I relayed the message to Dixie.
Dixie’s mouth dropped. “How did you know that? Did someone tell you?”
“Who would have told me?” I asked.
She pushed a chestnut-colored curl off her forehead. “I don’t know.”
“Dixie, you said you believe in ghosts,” I said.<
br />
She waved her hand. “Yes, I do. It’s just that I didn’t know they could really talk to people. I just thought they haunted houses. Is she here all the time?”
I slumped my shoulders. “Unfortunately not. She is with me all the time.”
Charlotte wiggled her eyebrows. “You know you love me.”
“Why is she around you all the time?” Dixie asked.
“She wants me to help solve her murder,” I said matter-of-factly.
Dixie swallowed hard. “Are you serious?”
I wrapped my hands around my mug. “Yes. She’s been pushing me in full detective mode.”
“What have you discovered?” Dixie asked.
Charlotte leaned back in the booth. “Not a heck of a lot of anything.”
“Hey, I’m trying my best,” I snapped without thinking.
Dixie adjusted her eyeglasses. “What did she say?”
“Oh, she’s complaining because I haven’t solved the murder yet. She fails to realize that I’m not a trained detective.”
“Speaking of detectives,” Dixie said, motioning toward the door. “Here comes Dylan Valentine. Did I see you talking to him the other day?”
“Yeah. He probably thinks I had something to do with the murder of that private eye.”
“How could you? You didn’t know him, right?” Dixie asked.
I leaned in closer. “Of course not, but the private eye was asking me about Charlotte Meadows the night of the committee meeting.”
“I bet he was trying to find out who murdered Charlotte.” Dixie looked over at her.
“Tell her hello for me, okay?” Charlotte asked.
“Charlotte wants me to tell you hello,” I whispered.
Dixie smiled. “Hello.”
“She’s right, you know. The private eye was looking into my death,” Charlotte added.
“Yes, I agree he was probably trying to get answers about her death, but why?” I asked. “Who hired him?”
“I hope the police are looking into that,” Dixie said.
“Well, they’re not doing it fast enough for her liking.” I pointed my spoon toward Charlotte.
“You’d feel that way too if you were in my Jimmy Choos,” Charlotte said.
Detective Valentine took a seat at the counter.
“He’s been asking me a lot of questions,” I said.
Dixie soaked in his appearance. “Well, there are certainly worse people to be questioned by.”
He was getting a to-go order. Fortunately, he hadn’t noticed me. And for that, I was grateful.
“I’d rather he not ask any questions,” I said.
Dixie peeked over her shoulder. “Well, he is just doing his job.”
“Not fast enough if you ask me,” Charlotte said.
It would never be fast enough for her.
“Back to the private eye. Why do you think he was killed?” I asked.
Dixie waved at someone who’d entered the diner, then said, “Maybe someone felt he was getting too close.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of. Maybe someone will think I’m getting too close to finding the killer, too.”
Charlotte drummed her fingers against the table. “At the rate you’re going, they don’t have to worry about you finding the killer.”
“Charlotte, be patient.” I stirred my coffee again.
Dixie chuckled. “Charlotte is being Charlotte again, huh?”
I took a drink of coffee and then said, “Yeah, her usual sweet self.”
“I take offense to that comment.” Charlotte’s neatly plucked eyebrows drew together.
I glanced in Dylan’s direction again. Apparently, he still hadn’t noticed that I was in the diner. The thought had barely left my mind when he turned around and looked directly at me. He smiled and walked straight toward the table.
“Speak of the devil,” Dixie said.
“Hello, Cookie. How are you?” A wide smile covered his face.
“I’m doing okay.” There was an awkward pause “Are you having lunch?”
“Yes, at the best place in town.” He looked at Dixie and winked.
“How are you, Detective Valentine? Glad to see you stopped in today. Did you get what you needed?” Dixie asked.
He answered, “I’m doing great now.”
“Oh, he likes you,” Charlotte said.
I had to ignore her.
Dixie noticed that we were staring at each other in an awkward silence, so she broke up the quiet. “So Detective Valentine, I guess the things going on around town have kept you busy.”
I wanted to poke Dixie under the table. The last thing I wanted her to bring up was the murders. Now I had no choice but to talk about what had happened.
“It’s been busy, but we’re dealing with it as best as we can.” His expression seemed torn, as if he didn’t want to reveal too much about the case.
Thank goodness he didn’t say anything else. Maybe it was because I didn’t give him time before I asked, “What are you eating, Detective?”
Charlotte placed her head in her hands. “That’s a lame question.”
He seemed distracted by something at the front of the diner. Finally, he looked at me again. “Um, yeah, I’m just having a burger.”
He looked toward the front of the diner again. Dixie and Charlotte were looking, too.
I turned around and saw Cindy Johnson’s car parked at the curb. She was getting out of it. Was she headed into the diner? Would she speak to Dixie with me sitting in the same booth? Why was Dylan watching her? Maybe he had information about her in regards to the murder. I’d love to know what he’d discovered.
The next thing I knew, Charlotte was standing by the door. Her face was practically smashed up against the glass. What was she doing? I knew she wouldn’t be able to leave the diner. Much to my chagrin, Charlotte couldn’t go very far from me. I hadn’t figured out why this was the case, but I guess the unanswered question was what made the paranormal so mysterious. Was she just trying to get a better look at Cindy? She was making me nervous. I’d rather she just come back over and sit down with us.
Dylan still focused his attention on Cindy, as if he had forgotten we were even sitting there.
She moved away from her car and down the sidewalk, out of our view. Dylan still watched the door.
Charlotte motioned down the sidewalk. I didn’t know what she was trying to tell me, but then Cindy came back into view and I realized that she was trying to warn me that Cindy was returning. I didn’t want her in the diner with us.
Dylan turned to me and said, “It was great seeing you, Cookie. Dixie, thanks for the wonderful food. I have to run. I have an appointment. Thanks so much again.” He dashed for the door and I knew he was going to follow Cindy.
“What do you think that was about?” Dixie asked.
I didn’t want to tell her that Cindy was on Charlotte’s suspects list. How would I explain that? I mean, it was one thing to have Charlotte around as a ghost, but it was another for me to have an actual list of people that she had given to me. I wasn’t going to touch that subject. “I don’t know. I guess he had an appointment.”
I was still surprised that Dixie had believed that Charlotte’s ghost was haunting me. I’d thought for sure she’d think I’d lost my marbles. “I have to be honest and say that I am surprised you believe me about Charlotte.”
“If there was one person who would come back to haunt, it would be Charlotte.” Dixie laughed.
Charlotte’s mouth twisted at the corners as if she was proud of that accomplishment.
“How did you get her?” Dixie whispered as someone walked by.
“Let’s just say she was attached to her clothing.”
Dixie laughed again. “That sounds exactly like Charlotte.”
“Can I help it if I love my clothing?” Charlotte grinned.
Dixie leaned in close. “You know, I overheard something earlier this morning.” She looked around and over her shoulder.
I perked
up. “What did you hear?”
Charlotte scooted over in the booth. “Do tell.”
“I heard that the private eye was stabbed.” Dixie shivered.
“That’s terrible.” I remembered seeing the blood under his body.
Dixie snapped her fingers against the table. “You know, now that I think about that morning, I recall taking the trash out and seeing Marie Vance leaving the alleyway. That was where the man was discovered, right? I would think that she would have discovered him before you.”
“Really?” I said to Dixie.
“That is interesting,” Dixie said.
I pushed to my feet. “Thanks for everything, Dixie.”
She hugged me and I could smell her rosewater scent—in addition to that of fried onions. “Don’t wait so long to talk to me next time, okay?”
“I’ll be back soon.” I made my way out of the diner with Charlotte matching my pace.
“So now what are we doing?” she asked eagerly.
“Let’s just take a stroll,” I said. “I need to think.”
The diner was two blocks from my shop on the opposite side of the street.
When I neared Hortensia’s Haberdashery, I stopped. The CLOSED sign hung in the window.
“What are you looking at?” Charlotte asked.
I shrugged. “Just thinking, that’s all.”
The spring air carried the scent of freshly bloomed honeysuckle. Cotton white clouds filled the blue sky. The weather was beautiful, but I felt a storm brewing.
At first, I didn’t want anyone to see me standing in front of the shop. I thought it might look as if I was lingering there a little too long. Then I supposed there was nothing wrong with window-shopping and stepped up closer and peered in. “So this is where you bought the scarf, huh?”
Charlotte stood next to me. “Yep, this is the place.”
I turned around, I’d seen enough. I looked both ways, then crossed the street. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed movement in the alley next to me. I peered closely and saw a man and woman talking. “Doesn’t that look like Cindy Johnson?”
Charlotte studied the couple. “It does. And that looks like one of the men who was at her house.”
I stepped back so that I would be hidden from view and peeked around the corner of a building. At least I hoped I was hidden.
