Honeysuckle Haunting Page 5

  By admitting that, I handed him all the power I owned. Did this mean I’d never turn him in? Never get my life back?

  Was it even a life I wanted?

  Financially I was okay. Dad left me money, and there was a house to sell. I could go to school, get a degree in a medical field. Maybe become a nurse.

  Who was I kidding? If I ended up having to clean up patients for a living, I’d be handing them the washcloth and telling them to do it themselves.

  I was not cut out for civilian life.

  My knuckles paled from the death grip I had on the steering wheel. The Land Cruiser lurched and rumbled down the road. We hit a road block before reaching the motel. Police lights whirled. Thick smoke clogged the night sky.

  “We’re too late,” Lucky said.

  “We’ll see about that.”

  I swung the truck into a three-point turn that would’ve made any father proud, and headed in the opposite direction. I drove the vehicle onto the shoulder and parked.

  I grabbed my purse. “Let’s go.”

  “What is it you want me to do?”

  “I want us to make sure Neal’s room was the one that got destroyed. Simple as that. Otherwise, you go in there and steal his things.”

  Lucky smirked. “Me?”

  “Yes, you because as much as I hate to say it, I’m a violet-haired short chick. I would get noticed. If anyone sees me trying to steal evidence, I’m pretty sure I’ll either be arrested or at the very least escorted forcefully from the scene.”

  Lucky remained motionless.

  “Listen, do you want to cross over or do you want to be stuck here the rest of your existence?”

  Lucky stared out the window.

  “That’s what I thought. Come on.”

  I shoved the door open and headed toward the motel. Lucky floated beside me. I hoped he didn’t feed off my energy and get noticed by people. Spirits being noticed always caused more trouble than it was worth.

  Spirits standing beside me always brought me attention. Not the good kind. Attention meant I couldn’t shrink into the background, which was how I enjoyed living my life—by not being bothered.

  Fire trucks and police cars covered the motel like ants on an apple. A section of the building billowed with smoke. No surprise, but it was where Neal’s room had been.

  “See if there’s anything left in that motel room not on fire. A suitcase, anything.”

  Without a word Lucky drifted off.

  Smoke billowed in thick waves. I seriously doubted that Lucky would find anything, but you never knew. Maybe Neal Norton carried a fireproof suitcase everywhere he’d gone in life.

  Maybe my face looked like a monkey’s butt.

  After a couple minutes Lucky popped up beside me. “Everything was burned. Nothing was left.”

  “That’s what I was afraid of.”

  I stared at the flames. Our friend the arsonist was probably long gone. I was at square one. Actually I was at square zero. Smoke irritated my lungs as I inhaled.

  “I’ll help you,” Lucky said. “Whatever you need, Blissful.”

  A smile tugged on my lips. “Great, because there’s someone I need you to find.”

  I dialed Alice again the next morning but didn’t get an answer. Same thing for Ruth. I considered calling Kency Blount to see if she’d found the women, but realized that would only throw suspicion on me.

  Not what I needed.

  Thoughts wormed through my brain as I drank my morning cup of coffee. As far as I knew, all of Neal Norton’s belongings that he’d brought to Haunted Hollow had been destroyed. Had he spoken to anyone in town? Had he divulged any clues as to who had killed Susan Whitby? Or who he thought had killed Susan?

  The best thing to do was start at the beginning, and that meant I needed to talk to Susan herself.

  “Susan?” I said it loudly. If the spirit was near, she’d hear it.

  No answer. “Susan?”

  Still none. I tapped my foot impatiently. “Come on, Susan. If you’re here, I need you to tell me. I’m trying to track down your killer.”

  The house creaked like old homes do, but Susan didn’t appear.

  I stood for a moment, trying to figure out what the heck to do, when my phone buzzed. The vibration startled me. The phone slipped from my hand and slid across the floor. I scrambled after it. I snatched it from the clutches of ancient floorboards and pressed ACCEPT without even looking at the name.

  “Hello?” I huffed and puffed, sounding an inch away from blowing someone’s house down.

  “Blissful, do you have pneumonia?”

  “Ruth? Ruth!” Relief blanketed me. “Of course not. I just…never mind. What’s going on? Where’s Alice? Are y’all okay?”

  “Alice about lost her mind when she heard Kency’s voice last night, so we left.”

  “That much I figured.” My hands trembled as I filled a glass with water. Too much adrenaline was pumping through my body.

  Maybe that was coffee.

  “After we drove around for a few hours, I finally got her to calm down. We went back to her house.”

  “Is that where you are?”

  “Yes. Kency’s inside.”

  “Doing what?”

  Ruth exhaled. “Searching. Alice and I are outside, and they’re in there. A whole team of them.”

  My stomach collided with the floor. “Is she okay? Alice, I mean?”

  “We need to talk,” Ruth said.

  “The three of us?”

  “And a few others. Meet us at ten thirty at Grandma’s Ghostly Kitchen. Do you know where that is?”

  “Yeah, I think I’ve seen it. But why ten thirty?” That was early for lunch, even for the geriatric population.

  “Because it’s chicken and dressing day. They’ll be slap sold out by eleven if we don’t get there early. Can you meet?”

  “Yep, I’ll be there.”

  “Good.”

  Ruth hung up, and I prepared myself for lunch before I’d even finished digesting breakfast.

  When I walked into Grandma’s Ghostly Kitchen, I was greeted by none other than Grandma in ghostly form. The hostess who actually did the seating couldn’t see Grandma, of course, but that didn’t stop the stately, plump woman wearing a long skirt and apron from rocking back and forth and giving everyone who entered a big old Southern greeting.

  “Welcome, y’all! Come on in!”

  She was a rounder version of Dolly Parton. I instantly loved her.

  Who was I becoming? I suddenly adored a ghost? This wasn’t me. At least it wasn’t the old me.

  I spied Ruth waving before I made it to the seating desk.

  “You have a great lunch, young lady.” Grandma waved.

  It was hard not to wave back.

  Ruth’s long arm guided me in like air traffic control. “Sit by Jackie Onassis over there.”

  I squeezed into a seat beside Alice, who was in disguise.

  A silk scarf was wrapped over her head. Large framed sunglasses were perched on her nose, and she wore bright red lipstick.

  Alice’s face was tucked into her glass of sweet tea. “Hi, Blissful.” I had to lean in to hear her.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I don’t want anyone to recognize me.”

  My gaze flickered to Ruth, who rolled her eyes. Ruth thumbed to her right. “Blissful, this is Doris Reeves, president of the Baptist Women’s League here in town.”

  “Nice to meet you, Doris.”

  Doris was a softly wrinkled woman in her seventies with blue hair. I’d like to think the old joke about ladies having blue hair was a joke, but guess what? Doris’s hair owned a distinctly blue hue. Owned it like she bought stock in the color.

  “And this”—Ruth thumbed the other direction—“is Maple Pope.” Ruth leaned forward. “Maple runs the library.”

  Okay. Baptist Women’s League and the library were both in attendance. I picked up the menu in front of me. “What should I order?”

  Ruth waved her
hand. “We’ve already ordered for you. There isn’t time to waste. We’ve got work to do.”

  Well color me stupid. “What’s going on?”

  Ruth nodded toward Doris. “Doris has intercepted information on the murder.”

  I threaded my fingers. “Great.”

  Doris spoke with elegant authority. She was someone I wanted to listen to, not because she knew it all, but because you could tell she had her information nailed down.

  She stirred sweetener into her tea. “Bill told me this morning they’re looking for prescription poisoning.”

  I frowned. “Like a prescription was what was used to kill Neal?”

  “That’s what they’ve narrowed down,” she whispered.

  Alice shook. “I have many drugs that could kill someone!”

  “Shh.” I patted her shoulder. “I’m sure you don’t.”

  I shifted back to Doris. “Do you know any more than that?”

  She shook her head. “Nothing, but I can guarantee that I’ll find out more as soon as Kency knows.” Doris rubbed her lips together in a way that reminded me of someone wringing their hands with glee. “Kency can’t walk two steps without asking Bill if she peed the right way. But you didn’t hear that from me.”

  I studied the other diners. “So this is good. If it’s a common drug, plenty of people could have it in their cupboards. Oh, before I forget, the motel burned to the ground.”

  “We know,” Ruth said. “It’s not the best scenario, especially since Alice and I were missing at the time.”

  My jaw dropped. “You don’t think Kency would accuse you of arson, do you?”

  “She would if she had to,” Alice whimpered.

  The waitress arrived with five plates of chicken and dressing along with green beans, mashed potatoes and sweet potato casserole.

  I’d be on carb overload after this.

  I dug in and moaned with pleasure. The cornbread dressing had just the right touch of sage, and it wasn’t dry. The chicken was well seasoned. I was starving for this meal.

  I finally came up for air. “We’ve got three other suspects—the preacher, the store owner and the drifter.”

  “Drifter?” Maple said, peering over her glasses at me.

  “Tom Sewell. Not that he’s technically a drifter, but from the sound of him, the guy never settled into anything concrete in life.”

  Maple scooped a dollop of sweet potato casserole onto her fork. “It’s accurate.”

  “I need to know what happened the night Susan Whitby died. If we’re going to get Kency off Alice’s back, we’re going to have to hand her the killer.”

  Maple pulled her glasses off her nose and let them hang from the chain around her neck. “From town records, Susan Whitby was seen having an argument with her boyfriend earlier that evening. She went to the hardware store, which is now Soul Food and Spirits, to pick up some supplies for her dad. That was the last time she was seen alive. A couple of hours later her body was found in the alley behind the store. Her boyfriend had an alibi.”

  Ruth twirled her fork. “He was shagging another girl at the time.”

  “That’s what Susan has said—that he was cheating on her.”

  Maple and Doris stared at me. Heat crept up the back of my neck. “I see dead people. Let’s move on.”

  Maple hitched a shoulder. “They never pinned the murder on anyone. Ever. They tried just about everyone and then they got to Alice’s brother.”

  Doris leaned forward. “My husband wasn’t sheriff at the time.”

  “And I fought the allegations so hard some people thought I did it,” Alice said. “They thought that because I was protecting my brother, that it had been me.”

  A light flared in my head. “So that’s another reason Kency’s looking at you. Because of those rumors.”

  Alice slammed a fist on the table. “My brother was innocent.”

  Ruth squeezed Alice’s arm. “We all know that. Kency’s not going to find anything in your house that gets you in trouble.” She flashed Doris a help-me look.

  “Of course not,” Doris said. “You’re innocent.”

  Maple cleared her throat. My gaze flickered to her. A twinkle flared in her eyes. “There’s something I wanted to show you ladies.”

  “Yes?” Ruth scraped the last glob of dressing onto her fork.

  “I was at the restaurant when Neal Norton announced his plans, so I started digging.”

  Ruth winked at me. “That’s the great thing about librarians. They love research.”

  “I found some interesting things about him—where he works, where he’s from. I wanted to ask him a few questions. I figured he might talk to me since we both loved research.”

  “He wasn’t even going to do the reveal,” I said. “He told me so himself, earlier that day.”

  Maple smiled widely. She was excited about something. Everyone at the table fell forward. “I don’t know anything about that, but I figured out where he was staying. I found out his room number and knocked. The door was unlocked. It swung right on open.”

  I know my eyes were as big as melons.

  Maple licked her lips. “Neal wasn’t in there, but all his things were. They were just laying out for anyone to find.”

  “That’s strange,” I said.

  “Not if you think someone’s going to murder you,” Maple said.

  Oh my Lord, she was right! Neal had clearly been threatened when I saw him, but he’d decided to continue with his plan. So then he created his own contingency by leaving his room open, so that anyone could grab his stuff.

  Granted, it had to be the right someone and not the killer.

  Which is what I hoped Maple was going to say next.

  The librarian met each of our gazes in turn and then reached into her purse. She pulled a large manila envelope out and slid it across the table.

  “Ladies,” she said proudly, “this is Neal Norton’s research. In here, we’ll discover who killed Susan Whitby.”

  NINE

  We wasted no time in ditching Grandma’s Ghostly Kitchen and heading over to my house. Doris left, promising to keep us appraised if her husband received any more updates from Kency.

  Maple’s hands trembled as she dropped the envelope on the table. “I was shocked when I found it, but I had to nab it. I just had to.”

  Alice, still disguised like Jackie O, flexed her fingers. She looked an inch away from ripping the envelope to shreds.

  Ruth pointed at Maple. “Well don’t just stand there. Let’s see what’s inside.”

  Maple pinched the silver tabs and lifted the flap. She pulled the contents out very slowly. Too slowly, if you wanted my opinion.

  A single sheet of paper appeared in her fingers.

  “Is that it?” Ruth said.

  Maple’s mouth unhinged in surprise. “Yes.” She glanced into the manila abyss. “There’s nothing else.”

  “I’m doomed,” Alice wailed.

  I motioned for her to hold on. “Let’s see what it says. Can you read it, Maple?”

  Maple stared at the sheet and then me. “It’s blank.”

  Alice collapsed into tears. “The man’s things have been burned up and all he left was a sheet of paper? I’m going to die!”

  I opened my palm. Maple handed the page to me. “You’re not going to die. My guess is this isn’t blank at all. Why would Neal leave a blank page to be found?”

  No one said anything.

  “Don’t everyone answer at once. He wouldn’t. If what he discovered was information that truly led to Susan Whitby’s killer, he would’ve left a way for the information to get out. He knew the risks. He paid for them with his life. Now we have to finish what he started. We have to discover who did it, because we know that Alice is innocent in all of this.”

  The three women stared at me as if I’d just kicked them in the rear ends.

  “Are the three of you with me?”

  They murmured a round of yeses.

  “Great. If it’s ok
ay with y’all, I’m going to keep this sheet. Maple?”

  “You may have it.”

  I folded it and tucked it into my jacket. “I know someone who might be able to help.” I stared at each of them in turn. “Maple, if you hear of anything, call Ruth. Ruth, I need you to watch Alice.”

  “But what if we get a Ghost Wrangler call?”

  As much as I wanted to laugh, Ruth was right. I gritted my teeth. “Tell me about it and I’ll head out. Okay? Keep Alice out of sight. I don’t want this situation getting any worse than it already is.”

  The women nodded dumbly. “Now the three of you get out of here; I’ve got work to do.”

  They vanished out the front door. I stared at the blank page, wishing the words would conjure themselves onto it.

  No luck there. I was about to head to my truck and drive aimlessly around when the air chilled. The flesh on my back jutted into tiny spikes that zipped down my spine.

  I slowly turned. Lucky Strike lit up a smoke.

  “Those’ll kill you.”

  “Lucky for me I’m already dead.” He took a long pull as he studied me. “I have news.”

  Good. I needed news. “What is it?”

  “I know where the handyman is.”

  My eyebrows hitched. I grabbed my purse. “Take me there.”

  We lumbered to a stop outside a familiar sign. I twisted toward Lucky. “You’re saying he’s here? You’re sure?”

  “Sure as I am dead, kitten.”

  “I’m not exactly a kitten.”

  His lip coiled. “No, you’re more like a rabid mountain lion, but kitten is much cuter.”

  “Thanks.” Pretty sure the sarcasm dripped from my voice on that one. “Okay. I’m going in. You stay here.” I remembered the sheet of paper and pulled it from my jacket pocket. I carefully unfolded it.

  “I think this has secret writing on it.”

  Lucky stared at it. “And what would you like me to do about that?”

  I almost punched him. Why couldn’t he just ask nicely? Why all the attitude? “Isn’t there some ghost thing you can do to see what’s on the page?”