Privy to Murder Read online

  Way-to-go, kid. Devastate your mom with one sentence. I can’t help it if a stupid spirit decided to hang around, a bad tempered one at that. And I refuse to start asking Mumsie about ghost control or even pay attention to any nebulous ectoplasm. I wondered if something like Pest Control, Acme Spirit Control ... and I reached for the phone book and then stopped, glad no one was around to read my mind.

  * * *

  At least I’d have time to bathe and dress before I began shopping for party ideas with a calf-roping theme. I ran the tub full of water, pushed the door to swing shut, and shed clothes. I lowered myself into lilac scented steaming water. Even in the summer, nothing felt as good as soaking in a hot tub.

  I lay back and relaxed, for at least a full minute before murder shoved its ugly tentacles into my mind. What was going on here? I left my last home, not willingly, ready to leave paranormal stuff behind. So why were murder, mayhem and blithe spirits so keen on staying in my life? Did I somehow draw it to myself even when I didn’t try, because I didn’t try?

  A paw suggested itself under the bathroom door, shaking the door enough to create an opening just big enough for a small white fur ball to strut in and meow at me. I proceeded to wash, secure in the knowledge that Chaos was too little to climb a slick tub yet. I reached for the shaving foam, Chaos leaped up onto the edge of the tub and slipped right in. So much for assumptions.

  I grabbed for her so she didn’t drown or latch on to a tender portion of my anatomy and snatched for a towel to wrap her in but she was too fast. A mad white streak darted back out the door. I heard Mumsie saying some not nice words and grinned. She must have had a close encounter of the furry kind.

  The phone rang. “Damn. I may never get my legs shaved.” I threw on my robe and ran for the office phone. Mumsie never answered phones.

  * * *

  Cherilyn’s voice crackled with laughter. “I heard the council meeting was interesting.”

  “That would be one adjective. Why didn’t you tell me JT and Laurel are an item? I might have been ready for her sabotage, or at least forewarned.”

  “I live with her bitchiness daily. Why should you escape? Besides, I didn’t want to jinx anything or make you nervous. I hear JT stood up for you. He may regret that. Laurel never forgets any perception of a lack of total devotion to her.”

  “Sounds like a wonderful recipe for business and romantic success. Glad it’s you working with her on a routine basis and not me.” I worried about Cherilyn.

  “Laurel is nothing if not geared toward success. But the reason I called, have you heard anything from Reneé?”

  “No, but she may just be cooling it. It was an exhausting weekend.”

  “Sure, but how often have you not been able to get hold of her at all? She usually would be full of stories, especially after this party.”

  Cherilyn was right, it was kind of odd and out of character.

  “I’ll try to call later and see if I have any better luck. If something were going on, one of her daughters would call.”

  Cherilyn agreed. “How did you find out about JT and Laurel anyway?”

  “He told me when he brought coffee over this morning.” Oops. Tactical mistake there, I thought.

  “Brought coffee? Already this morning? Hmmm. You’d better hope Laurel doesn’t get hold of that. She’d have a fit.”

  “Oh come on. It’s not like they’re married or even living together. They’re not, are they? Living together, I mean?”

  Cherilyn laughed at me. “You’re still interested, aren’t you? I knew it. You never got over him. You should have given him time to grow up instead of throwing him aside for one mistake, and especially for Frank-the-Fox of all people.”

  “You know how it was in high school. No one could deal with JT then, or me, for that matter. We were both screwed up, in more than one way. Let’s get off this subject. Be thinking of brilliant ideas for the CR Ball for me, and I’ll call you if I hear from Reneé.”

  * * *

  After I hung up, I re-ran and finished my bath, dressed for shopping in my usual jeans, tank-top and big shirt. The linen was a little wrinkled but the turquoise color was my favorite. I know all the experts insist that everything should fit, but I like big shirts and don’t like skin- tight. I’m not sixteen and I’m not under a hundred pounds.

  I put on my chunky turquoise earrings, clipped my kinky hair back and started out the door.

  “Tali, wait. Are you sure you want to go into town? Amen Ka says it’s not a good idea. And you know how you are when you shop, you lose track of time. What if you need to pick up Sean, and you’re off somewhere?”

  Having yelled all this to me from the hall, Mumsie came into the room, all pulled together in a matching pant suit. The woman could put together separates and look like a million. This time it was a yummy lime green knit concoction of pants, tunic and print top that set off her cropped gray hair. She looked like money.

  I stopped and shut the door. “If I’m off somewhere and if Sean needs a ride, his loving Nana will give him one, I’m sure.”

  “Honey, his loving Nana will be in Plano for the Psychic and Harmonic Convergence seminar. Holly and I plan to go to dinner after and maybe even down to the West End.”

  “Mumsie, that doesn’t sound like a good idea. The West End isn’t the safest, you know.”

  “I ran around the West End of Dallas before you were even born, you know.”

  I knew that, but it was a safer world then. I also knew better than to say that to my mother.

  She looked at my outfit and raised one eyebrow. “Are you really wearing that to go shopping?”

  “Yes, Mother. Goodbye, Mother. Have fun. Stay safe.”

  “Of course.” She looked at a point just to the left of me and smiled. “The boys will keep me safe, at least they will if they can keep from fighting.”

  I jumped to the right and looked at the empty air next to me. I waved her out the front door and hoped her invisible friends followed. I now felt suitably frumpy, thanks to my loving mother, but I had too much to do to worry about that now.

  * * *

  Once in the car, I had to decide where to go first. I’d heard about a funky vintage shop, The Bohemian Diva, in Paris. It had linens and all kinds of things I could use for serving or to add color to a buffet. I still needed to come up with a theme of some kind, at least to decorate with, and didn’t want to go the route of calf skin, bandanas and ropes. Once I was on Highway 82, I watched what was left of the summer wild flowers, listened to Margaritaville and chilled for a few minutes with no murders—and no spirits.

  Paris was only a few minutes from Love on the highway and traffic was light. Wouldn’t be this quiet later so I didn’t plan to linger too long. The Diva was on Main street and featured bay windows full of intriguing clothes, china and old trunks. I could go nuts in this place but I’d have to be careful. I had a limited budget and not enough time to do the flea market shopping that would have saved some money.

  Once I parked and entered the store, I saw how much trouble I was in. I liked everything I saw. My bottom line and this store might have a fight on their hands. I wandered around looking at Victorian embroidery, evening dresses from the 1920’s and 1930’s, a set of combs from 1910. Note to self, come back with money to buy those combs.

  I almost missed the Indian blankets that shouted colors at me. Turquoise, red, gold, black, jumped out and so did the price. I could cover a table with those, more than one, and hang a couple. In another corner, behind a display of hats and next to a stack of Fiesta Ware, I saw some wonderful pots. They had an Indian feel but the prices said recent China. I hit the mother lode and I could use them for other parties. A couple of loose woven throws in bight colors, also on sale, would be great to drape over food pedestals. The Southwest look always worked around here. There goes the Master Card balance.

  I found a few more odds and end pieces, including giant pottery flower pot bottoms for serving trays. Wish I could use some of this for t
ouches around Mumsie’s place but she did love her country-cute décor. It didn’t even fit her personality.

  My arms loaded with boxes, I ran into something I couldn’t see, and it yelped.

  “Watch where you’re going. Some people are so rude.” I turned sideways and saw Betty Ann’s face glaring at me. Oh great, another enemy to confront. What did I do to her?

  “Now, don’t think I will let Frank forget it was your party that killed his Mag. You’ll be lucky to get any more parties or money when I’m through.” She flounced the rest of her blonde, plump self to the back of the store.

  Why do I feel like I fell through the looking glass? What was all that about and since when does this woman control the purse-strings for Frank Tannehill, or is that just wishful thinking on her part? Bizarre week is all I have to say.

  I paid, hauled out packages, set them on the back of the truck, opened the door to put them inside and realized I didn’t have my purse. It had to be in the store. I remembered setting it down after I took out my card. Thank God it’s a small store with limited traffic.

  I rushed back inside. Nothing sat in front of the register. Darn, and I loved that purse. It was turquoise leather and I got it from one of the few mall stores I like. Then I spotted a touch of color at the back of the store. Oh good, the clerk must have found it and had it somewhere safe.

  When I reached the back I stopped in shock. Betty Ann had my purse and was pawing through it as if it was hers.

  “What are you doing?” The hostility in my voice must have startled her and she jumped, dropping the purse. Junk spilled everywhere, confirming that the purse was indeed mine. I grabbed for my lipstick before it disappeared under a display, picked up my change purse, PDA, cell phone and three pens.

  Betty Ann watched me, not even attempting to help.

  “I don’t know what you were looking for in my purse but you could help me, you know.”

  Betty Ann half-heartedly reached for the small brown notebook that had slid across the floor. “I just wanted to find a name so that it got to the right person. I should have known such a gaudy color would belong to you.”

  There she went again, treating me like poison. “Just what is your problem, Betty Ann? I’m not aware of doing anything to offend you other than moving back to Love. Is there something I need to know, something I’m doing that’s extraordinarily offensive to you? My objective in moving back was to support myself and my kids, not create enemies wherever I go.”

  Betty Ann had the grace to look a little sheepish. “You didn’t really do anything. But you know how it is, another single woman in town, one with a history, more competition. There’s enough competition for the few guys left as it is. Laurel didn’t help matters any when she arrived, and now you’re back.” She raised a too-well-plucked eyebrow and batted her false eyelashes.

  “I’m not after any guys after what I’ve been through, and I know the rumor-mill has that misery all over town already. What if we call a truce or at least cease the open warfare? I just want to settle in with the kids and my mother and lead a life of some kind.”

  Handing me the notebook, Betty Ann gave me a half smile.

  “Good luck with that. I heard JT paid you a visit already. Laurel will be livid, you know. You’d better watch out for her.” She left me standing with my mouth open as she wiggled her way to the checkout counter and started talking to the clerk.

  The town gossip already knows JT’s been over. Shit, hellfire, and damnation. We don’t need the internet. We have Betty Ann and company. Faster than a speeding bullet.

  Chapter Six

  I flew back to the car on my broomstick, cranked up the air and pulled onto Highway 82. It was so great to be the topic of today’s gossip already.

  Heat blossomed up from the asphalt like an invisible shield to slam into your face any time you went out. I was so glad not to be working outdoors. What with the occasional hot flash and all the years of office air conditioning, I’m not a good heat person any more. In my youth, I could work or play outside, even in the August heat. Not any more.

  Cell phone ringing interrupted my heat ruminations. Now what?

  “Mom?”

  “Sean. I thought you were at day camp.”

  “I am, but can I come home?”

  “Aren’t you having a good time.”

  “No. Can you come get me?”

  “Honey, I’m in Paris right now. By the time I can get there it will be time for you to leave anyway.”

  I heard his voice thicken. “I don’t care. Can you come now? Please, Mom?”

  He knew I would. I’m a sucker for my son, for tears, and I’d watched him become more and more stressed and anxious since the divorce.

  “I’ll be there. It’s okay.”

  By the time I got to Denison, other parents were also arriving. Sean piled into the car and slumped in the passenger seat.

  I ruffled his hair, which he hated, and said, ”What happened, Kiddo? Why did you want to go home? I thought you were going home with Rusty for the lake and s’mores.

  “Rusty couldn’t stay. Something happened to his Dad and one of the teachers took him home and they cancelled going to the lake and everything’s going wrong.”

  I could tell he was on the verge of tears. “Honey, it’s not like you won’t see Rusty again or go to the lake again.”

  “It’s just, I don’t know the other kids, and school’s gonna start soon. What if my asthma acts up and I don’t have a full inhaler? I bet the other kids would make fun of me if they knew about the ghost. I don’t like it here, you know. I wish we could go back home.”

  “I’m sorry, dear. This is home now. Your Dad has another home too. We just have to deal.” I restrained myself from reminding him that his Dad had chosen to make us leave. “What do you say we stop by McDonalds and grab lunch on the way home?” Yup. I wasn’t above bribery.

  Sean sat quietly, looking out the window. “Mom, why is our family so strange? How can we see ghosts? Why do we even have them? Does everyone else have them? They never talk about it. Grandma Mumsie talks to spirits. That’s not normal is it?”

  I wanted to say no, it’s not normal, and no one should have to deal with spirits or ghosts or any other paranormal happening, but how could I? Sean saw it. I didn’t want him to think he was abnormal. I saw the same things and was struggling to ignore what I could see, pretend it wasn’t there.

  Mumsie regularly talked to spirits in front of us, or at least told us about the conversations. Was I supposed to tell him that his grandmother was a psycho and his mother was on the edge? Why did I have to cope with all this alone? Why did I have to cope at all? Now I was whining to myself. Buck up, Tali. Just deal with it. Help Sean deal with it. But who the hell is going to help me? I stalled. “Let’s stop at McDonalds and talk about all of it, school, asthma, even spirits. We’ll figure out what to do together.”

  My mind raced faster than the car, trying to sort out what to tell Sean that would comfort him. Then what to do about Betty Ann, if there was anything to do about her. I needed to concentrate on the ball but there was also Reneé incommunicado, the kid and her boyfriend, spirit sightings, murder, my ex, and life in general.

  I had to figure out what was next for me. With a pest of a spirit causing havoc I couldn’t just push the murder off to one side and ignore it. Not with my reputation at stake, my only way of making a living. Then there’s the matter of the reputation of Party On. We couldn’t be known as the party planners who kill the hostess, literally. If I could help prove that the murder had nothing to do with us, that’s too our advantage. I really could use Reneé’s help. This was not the time for her to pull a disappearing act.

  Betty Ann’s acting strange. Could she be involved in more than just an affair with Frank? And speaking of Frank, the husband is always a suspect, especially one who is cheating. Frank would never kill anyone, would he? Strong emotions go with family relationships. I wondered how Mag’s relationship had been with Donna. Still waters c
an run deep, but then sharks bite even in shallow water.

  “Mom. Mom. McDonalds. You said we could stop,” Sean accused as we sped past the restaurant.

  “Oh. Sorry, Honey.” I whipped into an illegal U-turn and shot into the parking lot, just missing a Jeep backing out without looking.

  We went into the blessedly cool interior, full of noisy kids and moms. Everyone in town had brought their kids to this oasis of junk food and cool playground for a long lunch. If I was going to do a long lunch, I wouldn’t choose this children’s version of Mecca. But I couldn’t deny that Sean looked happier. He ordered a big burger and I got a Mandarin orange salad.

  He watched the other kids play while he ate, and I watched him. He worried about everything, and I hadn’t been able to instill any of Mumsie’s go-with-the-flow in him. Of course I realized that you can’t make a person stop worrying. But I hated to see him so anxious. Having his Dad reject us so traumatically didn’t do anything for his self-confidence, and neither did the prospect of a new school.

  * * *

  Sean finished off his burger and went to climb in the play area. He loved getting up into the colored tubes, away from everything else.

  “Do you really think that’s a wise move? Haven’t you heard about the needles in the ball pit? Besides, that food isn’t good for anyone?”

  My stomach clenched. I recognized the voice and didn’t want to look up. “It’s good to see you too, Brian,” I lied. “If it’s so bad, why are you here? Is the other guy with you?”

  I finally looked up and wished I hadn’t. He looked at me as if I’d crawled out from under some rock.

  Brian glanced toward the counter. “Phillip is ordering some disgusting thing with ice cream and chunks of chocolate cookie dough, raw. Can we say salmonella? We were in Paris at a boutique we like.”

  Eew. We were maybe shopping at the same place. Nah. I couldn’t have missed that couple. I needed to get out of here but I didn’t want Sean dealing with the happy couple.

  “I hope you had a good shopping trip. See you later.” I got up and went to the playground. I felt his eyes follow me but I don’t think it was because he wanted to watch my back end. It was more like he was giving me the evil eye.