Privy to Murder Read online

  “Sean? Sean? Are you okay? Are you hurt?” I fumbled with my seat belt and finally unfastened it. I felt around for Sean, found him, felt his neck for a pulse, and unfastened his seat belt. “Sean. Wake up. We have to get out of the car. Talk to me, honey.”

  Sean shook his head and muttered something that sounded like, “It’s not time to get up yet. What happened? Did we hit something?”

  I struggled with the door handle. “I’m going to get out and come around to your side. See if you can open your door.”

  The rain had stopped. A break in the clouds let a full moon peek through and lit the road on the other side of the creek. The bank was a slope not a cliff. We could climb up it. I hoped the idiot who hit us was gone. Maybe it was an accident, but I still saw the headlights appear to speed up just before the truck slammed into us and knocked us into the water.

  Once I was certain Sean was all right, I helped him out of the car and we scrambled up the hill, slipping back as much as we gained. My right shin burned and throbbed. I heard a rush of water just as we reached the top and clambered onto the road. Chocktaw Creek rushed by, rapids now instead of a lazy creek. Our house stood less than a block away. We could make it and come back for the car when it was light, if it didn’t get swept away in the dark.

  Now I had no transportation. It hadn’t been much but it was all I had. Now what? We hadn’t been badly hurt. What if someone really wanted us dead? I voted for the crash being a chance encounter, poor visibility, not attempted murder. I couldn’t live with the idea of constantly being on guard for assassins.

  * * *

  Early the next morning I called the tow truck and had the car dragged out of Choctaw Creek and to the garage. My car insurance was still in effect since that was a payment I hadn’t missed–yet. My deductible wasn’t small enough to help me much. I had to put my hands on some cash. If I couldn’t pay for Sean’s last doctor visit for asthma, they wouldn’t take me back, and he had to have new shoes for school. I’d have to ask Mumsie for help. The car needed one thousand dollars’ worth of repairs. It might as well be ten thousand.

  I checked on Sean, still asleep, exhausted from the night’s excitement. I made coffee, took a cup onto the deck, and collapsed on the picnic bench that looked over the back yard. My neck and shoulders were in spasm, giving me a killer headache at the base of my neck.

  A chimenea sat to one side of the deck and a glider on the other side. The large yard had several pecan trees scattered around, plus one catalpa that gave shade but messed up the grass with blooms in the spring. The far end of the yard bordered the school football field and yielded a view of the scoreboard, goal post, and bleachers guarding both sides of the field.

  It wasn’t a bad view, off season, but was a little noisy during football games. We had a great spot to watch games without freezing. When I was little, the field was a real field with horses and wild flowers. I loved this yard, this part of Texas, the scent of honeysuckle growing against the back fence and the smell of burning leaves in the fall.

  The phone rang, its usual one ring before it was snatched up. I jumped. Shooting pains stabbed me in the back. I went into the house to get more coffee.

  “Mom,” Cass shouted. “Where are you? There you are.” Cass burst into the kitchen like a storm. “I’m going to lunch with Donna. And Dad called. He’s coming to get Sean.”

  “What do you mean? You’re going to lunch with Donna, Mag’s Donna? Don’t say anything about—anything.”

  Cass looked at me as if I’d lost my mind, or what was left of it. “I wouldn’t tell her that. I don’t want her to think there’s something wrong with us. Are you nuts?”

  “Don’t you have to work?” I washed my cup and managed to spatter water down the front of my denim overalls.

  “No, I didn’t take the job, I got a better offer. I’m going to work for Kim at the Road Kill and she doesn’t care what color my hair is or if I have any piercings.” She turned to leave.

  Great, Cass and the bikers, just the atmosphere I wanted her to work in. “What did your Dad want?”

  She turned back. “Oh yeah, he’s going to be here to pick up Sean at ten since it’s his week to have him.”

  “Seriously?” Brian had never taken Sean for one of his scheduled weeks, always coming up with some excuse or another.

  Cass shrugged. “Sounded serious, but who knows. Sean’s excited though. Says he might go live there. Go figure. The kid is such a dork.” She turned and left.

  That’s wonderful. Brian had Sean thinking he was going to live in Dallas. He’d be so disappointed when Brian was a no show again. I might have to kill Brian when he called to admit he wasn’t coming, after all.

  Sean bounded into the room. He looked pretty good in spite of last night’s events.

  “Mom, Dad said he’s coming today and that I’m going to live with him for a week and that if Mag’s ghost comes again I can come and stay with him and that other guy. Isn’t that cool? Do you think if I took my football he’d play ball with me?”

  Of course, dear, I wanted to say, and mess up that famous manicure of his? Not. But I didn’t. “Just ask him and see what he says.”

  Sean grabbed a banana off the fridge. “I’m going to pack,” he said. He ran out.

  I followed Sean out of the kitchen but turned around when I heard wheels in the driveway. I opened the front door just as Brian opened the car door.

  “Hello, Tali,” he said. “You’re looking spiffy this morning. Where’s your car? I thought maybe you left the kids alone again so you can run around and do your parties.”

  Number one, he hated my overalls. Number two, he was trying to bait me and doing a damn good job of it. “So what made you show up this time? You never come pick up Sean when you say you will. Why now?”

  “You know why. Someone has to at least give the kid a respite from the craziness around here, even for just a few days.”

  “Being with you and what’s-his-name will be an example of sanity?”

  “His name is Phillip, as you well know. And we’ll make sure Sean has a great week, not even one ghost or car crash. If some car ran you off the road like Sean said, then it might not be safe for him to live here any more. You are making enemies everywhere you go.” He sounded smug as a kitten with its head in a cream carton.

  My heart plunged into my stomach. Brian was waiting for an opportunity like this so he could jump right in and save the day. He was still angry that I got the kids and alimony. I wondered if he could have anything to do with the whole crash business.

  “Sean, your Dad’s here.”

  “Coming,” Sean shouted from his room.

  I turned to Brian. “Be sure he’s back in time for the scout campout on Friday. He wants to be there to get his badges.”

  Sean came into the living room dragging a duffle bag that looked as if he’d packed half his belongings. “Don’t worry, Mom. I’ll be careful with the PlayStation and bring all the games back. And I have my inhaler.”

  “Here, Sport. Let me carry that for you.” Brian looked back at me after loading both Sean and his bag in the car. “I’ll call you on Friday.”

  “No, Brian. I’ll see you on Friday, in plenty of time to get Sean to the LakeLove campgrounds on Friday, or I’ll have every cop in Dallas at your house.”

  He drove off in a spray of gravel. I watched Sean wave through the window. Why did I feel like I might never see him again? Tears pricked behind my eyes and then spilled down my face.

  Chapter Ten

  After Sean left with Brian, I rattled around the house like a marble in a tin can. I couldn’t settle down. Bills, the lawyer, Sean’s doctor, Mastercard—forget it, no money. I called my lawyer, Bill Kennedy, to tell him about Brian’s threats and turn-around. In her snooty voice, his office manager told me I needed to finish paying the old fees before I asked Bill to do anything more for me.

  “Oh, don’t worry about her,” Bill said when he answered his phone. “She’s a little bitchy today. Her bo
yfriend dumped her.” He did say he couldn’t do much the way things stood. If Brian broke the custody agreement, then we would talk.

  As I hung up it dawned on me that I had to finish plans for the split party Kim had insisted that I do for her best friend, Candace. The party was in less than three days, the day her latest divorce became final. When Candace had heard about the Banana Split Parties that celebrated the end of a marriage, she couldn’t wait to host one of her own. She’d tried to hurry the divorce just to party sooner.

  Not everyone in town thought this was in the best of taste, but then neither was anything else involving Candace. I’d rented the fanciest place I could find, hired a great caterer and now needed all the paraphernalia, including voodoo dolls with pins, divorce plates, cups, banners, a chocolate wedding cake. The plastic couple topping on the cake featured a headless groom. Thank God for Party Animals in McKinney. if I’d had to go any farther I couldn’t have pulled the decorations together in time.

  I talked Mumsie into letting me borrow her Impala. Party Animals displayed every decoration I needed. The caterer was a different story. On my way back from McKinney I detoured left on state highway 898, turned onto Caraway Lane and stopped at Reneé’s. Maybe I could find something there to give me a clue where she was. She’d lived alone in a cozy 1930’s cottage-style home she’d renovated a few years earlier.

  Her neighborhood surrounded the local university and was crowded with enormous, ancient pecan trees, catalpas, mimosas, gardenias and students. The house looked like an import from an English village, complete with an unkempt garden. Reneé loved it.

  Around back I took the key from a hollow stone and let myself in. The house echoed like it had been empty forever. A chill shivered in the air as if Mag had insinuated herself into this house, too. Where my decorating style was eclectic Southwest, Reneé’s was Victorian to the core.

  I tiptoed through the kitchen and into the dark wood and lace dining room. Why was I trying so hard not to make any noise? No one was home. The downstairs was too neat and empty. I thought I heard a noise half-way up the stairs. I froze, stood still and listened. Silence wrapped around me. Then I crept to the upstairs landing and went into Reneés bedroom.

  Her armoire stood open. It had spewed clothes out like they had a bad taste. Every suitcase she owned and some I didn’t know she owned scattered around the room, covering every flat surface. I couldn’t tell what Reneé taken with her because the mixture of clothes spread around included summer and every other season.

  I reached out to touch one of her favorite tops. It moved, I screamed. Her cat, Conner, shot past me and out the door.

  “Shit.” My heart jumped. I took a deep breath, settled the adrenalin and went over to her desk, which was in as much disarray as the rest of the room. Normally, Reneé was Miss Neat Freak. The mess spoke volumes about her state of mind.

  Wherever she went, she’d been in a hurry. Everything in the room had been opened, tossed and thrown. Someone frantic had packed without knowing where they were going. Three different suitcases were open and half filled. What in the name of all my children had she been doing?

  Nothing on the desk said much except the flyer offering a special at the Adolphus in Dallas. Not a spur-of-the-moment trip, considering their prices, but worth a try. I slipped the brochure in my jeans pocket.

  The room gave off an air of confusion and anger. I started to touch her clothes, try to get a reading, but stopped. The fear in here scared me. I backed out. Maybe there was something in Reneé’s office that could help me.

  Her office was orderly and lacked the lace, flowers and knickknacks that dominated the rest of the house. Everything was so much in place I couldn’t see how it could help me find Reneé. Computer hacking wasn’t my specialty and I know she had hers password protected. Because she used a handheld computer date book, I didn’t expect to see an address or appointment book, and there wasn’t one.

  The house creaked, cracked, and groaned around me. I jumped at every sound and was ready to bold when my toe hit something. I looked under the writing desk. A small wooden box lay on its side. A folded piece of paper had fallen out. I picked it up. I gasped when my cell phone rang.

  “What?” I snapped. The sound of the phone echoed in the empty house.

  “Gosh, what’s got your thong in a bunch?” Cherilyn asked. “I just wanted to tell you I found a place for the ball.”

  “Oh, honey. You’re such a lifesaver. What did you find?”

  “The LakePavilion’s free on that date. It’s all glassed in, air-conditioned and perfect. All you need is a band and caterer and I heard about a student at Culinary Arts who has a reputation for being fast and good.

  “Thanks, kid. I owe you so big.”

  “Damn right.”

  “I’ve got to run right now, Cherilyn, but I’ll call you later this evening. Take care.” I hung up before she could finish her sentence.

  I figured the noises I’d heard were Reneé’s cats going in and out of their cat door, but I needed to get out of the house. Normally, it was a favorite place, full of good memories. But right now, empty, it was like negative energy had taken the place of good. I shoved the unread note in my pocket, poured dried cat food in the cat’s dishes, gave them water and went out the back door, locking it.

  I can’t believe she left Punky and Poppi on their own. If she’d made any arrangements, the person assigned had not done their job.

  * * *

  A shadow loomed over me. Oh shit, now what. I stood up and turned.

  “JT, what are you doing here? The cat already gave me a heart attack. Now you pull your appear-out-of-nowhere trick.”

  “Could ask you the same thing, Tali. What are you doing here? Kim reported Reneé as a missing person. This is now a crime scene. You haven’t been in and disturbed anything, right?”

  “Right,” I assured him, fingering the paper in my pocket. “Just came over to feed the cats, stayed downstairs.”

  “Good thing. Keep out of this. You’re not a detective, and that includes Mag’s murder, where you’re more of a suspect than detective. I’m sure you have more to do with this than you’ve told me.”

  I looked down at him, glad I wore my boots but wishing he wasn’t the law. “JT, I’m tired of the crap. If I’m really a suspect, arrest me. Every time you see me you do your veiled-threat thing. I have enough to worry about with no money, a wrecked car, my ex’s threats.” And the stupid ghost. “Stop giving me a hard time.”

  I stomped to the Impala without falling over anything and drove off. Damn. I can’t catch a break. I fumed all the way home, trying to decide if I just blew it with JT He was about to shoot himself down as far as I was concerned, cute cowboy or not.

  * * *

  Three days later I felt pretty good about my newest party preparations. The “Lasting Love” Bed and Breakfast would soon be the site of a party to celebrate a love that failed to last. They rented out the great room downstairs for parties, and the owner, Gail, was an old friend.

  I found a student through the local Junior College culinary program who was willing to have fun with a funky theme party for girls only. I went with fur and feathers in gold, purple and green. Small fur-covered tables held the banana split toppings, snacks, and bird cages with doors open and a bird escaping. The main table held banana split boats, the cake with the bride and headless groom, ice creams. Scattered chairs provided seating for those not singing karaoke or dancing.

  Candace wanted a CD playing “These Boots Were Made for Walking.” Her niece brought her karaoke machine, so everyone would be able to sing along to “I’m Gonna Harden My Heart” and “I’m Gonna Wash that Man Right Out of My Hair.”

  I’d found movie posters from The Gay Divorcee and War of the Roses. Favors included voodoo dolls in velvet boxes. It would be a night for giggles and man bashing. I avoided the question about the male stripper. Candace had invited everyone she knew and some she didn’t. As they arrived, the women all received purple feather bo
as.

  The party began at seven-thirty and by eight music and chatter ruled. Laughter accelerated. Kim paid me in advance. As I helped Jan, the student, keep plates and bowls filled, I pictured paying for the car, or at least paying part of Mastercard.

  The party took a downturn when Cass walked in with Donna and Betty Ann. What in hell was Cass doing with Donna, and when did Donna turn into a hot chick? Her mousey brown hair was shiny blonde, her chest up and out, in clothes from an upscale shop.

  They all went straight to see Candace and Kim, not noticing me, or at least pretending not to. They joined the crowd gathered around the Karaoke machine. Betty Ann started singing, and I headed to the kitchen so I could find a fresh tray of drinks and miss listening to another off-key version of Shania Twain’s Honey I’m Home.

  Candace came up just then, shoved her ample hips behind the table to join us, and looked under the cloth at the same time.

  “Do you have more Margaritas back here anywhere? We’re out and people are getting thirsty now that they’re done with ice cream and into booze.”

  I steered her around to the front. “Not back here but we can mix another pitcher faster than a cat’s pounce. Be right back.”

  I ran to take Jan’s mix from the freezer, added Tequila and fired up the blender. The blender didn’t fire up.

  “You work, now. I don’t have time for you to mess around,” I told it.

  I tried again. No luck. I hit the blender. I called it a bad name. I opened all the cupboards looking for another.

  Candace came in. “Drinks, now. What are you doing? Don’t tell me Betty Ann and friends are right about you? I told her to stop flapping her jaw because you were doing a fine job, but if they don’t get more margaritas we could be in trouble.”

  “What’s wrong?” Jan said, coming into the kitchen with a load of dirty glasses.

  “Blender, not working. Natives demanding more magic potion.”