Bein' Dead Ain't No Excuse Page 3

  Wallowing in a pit of misery, I led him to Deena’s vacant office and closed the door behind us, before following him over to the sofa where he captured my hand and pulled me down beside him.

  “I know I planned to leave at first light tomorrow, but I’ve decided to head out this afternoon,” he said, his tone flat, his eyes expressionless. “However, I couldn’t leave without saying a proper goodbye.” He squeezed my hand.

  “Must you leave so soon?” My voice shook. “Give me time, Bradford. So much has happened this morning. Mama is in—”

  “It’s okay to say no, Jolene,” he cut in. “I understand your commitment to your family, and you’ve started another relationship. Moving away with me was too much to ask, I can see that now. Especially after that fiasco with Vanessa.” His smile faltered.

  He was referring to his short-lived romance with Vanessa van Allen—erotica romance writer with sticky fingers and a greedy heart. Bradford’s former girlfriend stole another writer’s work and paid the ultimate price for her deceit. At last word, she was on trial in the celestial court of justice, but that’s another long story told elsewhere.

  “Let the past rest, Bradford. That’s not why I can’t leave. I’ve been trying to tell you that Mama is in trouble.”

  His hand tightened around mine. “What kind of trouble?” His blue eyes darkened. “I haven’t heard anything through my contacts. Did you call the station?”

  I said something incredibly stupid. “Mama’s on Heaven’s hit list.” My voice trailed away as his face drew into a tight frown. He dropped my hands and surged to his feet and moved a few feet away from me.

  “Dear God, Jolene. I don’t know how you manage to get mixed up in these matters.” He scrubbed a hand through his dark hair, the movement calling attention to the growing silver highlights. “I don’t believe I can take more paranormal activity. I’m done with ghosts and goblins. Jolene, this is crazy—even for you. Heaven’s hit list, really! After that crazy business with Vanessa, you promised to get help for your problem.” There was a mixture of disbelief and anger in his voice, but for just an instant, I saw a flash of uncertainty in those baby blues.

  “This came up kinda sudden,” I tried to explain. “It’s not like I plan these things. They just happen.” I watched him with narrowed eyes. “And don’t forget you have seen a ghost or two so don’t rush to judge. I thought you’d understand my situation better after your experience with Vanessa’s spirit, but apparently, I was wrong. With that kind of attitude, I believe it would be best for you get on your horse and ride out of Dodge. I need a clear head to deal with Heaven’s agents of destruction, and you’re just mucking up the stall.”

  “Is that how you truly feel? You want me to leave?”

  Before I could speak, there was a quick tap, and the door opened to admit Deena. “I’m sorry to interrupt, Jolene, but you have a visitor.” Her brows hiked high over anxious brown eyes. “He’s waiting for you in the kitchen.”

  I surged to my feet. Without being told, I knew my morning visitor could be none other than Dr. Preston Neally. Geesh, my life was becoming more and more complicated each day.

  Bradford grabbed up his hat and shoved it on his head. “I was just leaving.” He dropped a kiss on my cheek. “Take care of yourself, Jolene.”

  Seeing the futility of continuing, I offered a weak smile. “Goodbye, Bradford. Safe travels.”

  And with that, he dashed out the door and out of my life.

  ****

  Mama blew in later that morning like a late summer hurricane. She sailed into the reception area, slapped her purse on the desk, and flashed my sisters and me a huge smile. “Okay, girls, I’m here. What’s next?”

  Deena took charge. In just the right pleasant tone, she pointed at Holly. “For the next three days, you will be Holly’s shadow. She will train you to run the desk in an easy, efficient manner, and show you how to book appointments on the computer. You will answer the phone and restock the retail shelves. And when needed, you will help out the stylists with prepping their clients for a chemical service. You’ll also be the shampoo girl.”

  “That’s a mighty tall order for minimum wage.” Mama’s voice twanged with disapproval. “You should’ve mentioned this before I agreed to work for you.” She turned to Holly. “I don’t blame you for leaving, child, I would too if it weren’t for my daughters owning the salon and needin’ my help.”

  Crap. Southern Mamas are a real pain in the ass.

  Seeing where this was headed, Billie Jo and I excused ourselves and made for the kitchen. Me for a late morning snack before my next client, and Billie Jo for a glass of iced tea before she returned home for a nap.

  After taking a seat beside me at the kitchenette table, she grabbed one of the chocolate chip cookies I’d brought from home and took a bite. “Care to share what’s got you so quiet other than this business with Mama?”

  “Bradford’s left for Wyoming.”

  “You made your choice?”

  I shoved a cookie into my mouth and nodded my head. “Preston.”

  She gripped my arm. “Oh, Jolene, how could you? You’re not in love with him. Sam’s the guy for you. What’s the deal?”

  “Preston suits my needs for now.” I shrugged my shoulders and grabbed another cookie. “And what’s love got to do with anything? I’m not cut out for the drama that comes with proclamations of undying love. And I’m not moving to Wyoming with Mama’s life in danger. Simple as that.”

  “Horseshit.” She beamed at me with false humility. “Sorry. It’s the pregnancy hormones. I can’t seem to control my tongue.”

  “That’s one explanation.” I pushed out of the chair and went to the refrigerator and pulled out bottled water. “The other would be you were born with a sharp tongue and a loose lip, just like me, Billie Jo—and we get it from Mama. Now, can’t you see why I made the right choice? Bradford made his choice, and I made mine. End of story.”

  “End of romance.” She shot me a pitiful look.

  “Exactly. What matters now is keeping Mama safe and alive, and her feet planted firmly on the ground. Any suggestions.”

  “None other than the ones we have already discussed.” She finished the last of her tea. “Well, gotta shove off. Time for my nap.” She stifled a yawn and began to rise.

  I lifted a hand to stop her. “Hey, before you go I need to shoot something by you.”

  She resumed her seat and fixed me with an intense stare. “I knew there was more. You always hem-haw around when something’s bothering you.”

  “It’s about Lilith Lacewell.”

  “Seems nice enough. Pretty too. Although I’m not happy about Lilith opening a beauty shop across the street from Dixieland. We don’t need the competition.”

  “In her case, beauty is only skin deep,” I said with a frown. “Underneath that pretty exterior lies a she-demon from hell. Alligator skin and bad breath. Right out of the swamp.”

  Billie Jo’s smile vanished. “Jolene, I’m surprised at you. That’s not a nice thing to say or even joke about. Lilith is charming, a real Southern lady.” She looked hard at me. “Oh, I get it. You’re jealous because she came in with Sam. But you don’t want him so what does it matter?”

  Raised, angry voices sounded from the front of the shop, bringing us to our feet and out the kitchen door. We rounded the corner to see Mama standing face-to-face with a huge woman clothed in a yellow silk caftan. Both were red-faced and puffing like two banty roosters squaring off in a fighting ring.

  Great balls of fire! Diane Downey, the grande dame of Whiskey Creek Elite Citizens, president of Women’s League and First Baptist Church Ladies Auxiliary, newest elected city council member, and Mama’s best friend and sworn enemy. (This kind of love/hate relationship is an accepted practice here in the South. I share a similar bond with my ghost pal, Scarlett Cantrell.)

  “Diane, darling, you go too far,” Mama snarled, her upper lip curling unbecomingly. “I won’t allow you to sabotage my position in th
e Ladies Auxiliary.”

  “As president, I can do anything I want.” Diane’s face throbbed with anger. “We’ve voted unanimously to proceed with the project. There’s nothing you can do.”

  Mama’s fists clenched. “Thief!”

  Holly stood nearby wringing her hands, and Deena gasped and fluttered a hand to her cheek. Both stood clear of the two angry women as did everyone else in the salon. Stylists and clientele twittered nearby as speculation ran amok.

  Diane fluttered with dismay. “I didn’t steal.”

  I pushed my way between them. “I’m ready for you now, Mrs. Downey. If you follow me to my chair, we’ll get started with your appointment.” I glared daggers at Mama. “And you can get back to training.”

  Both women stared at me with disdain, and Diane looked from me to Mama and back to me. “I’m sorry, Jolene, but I believe I’ll take my business elsewhere.” She held up a business card for me to see. “Lilith Lacewell is opening her shop across the street. I believe I’ll take my patronage to her. As will most of the women at church once I recommend they make a change.”

  The front door jingled as Diane exited the salon amid a buzz of voices. My blood pressure spiked, and I wanted to strangle Mama and save the Grim Reaper the time and aggravation of a trip to Whiskey Creek. The subject of my displeasure, however, scooted behind the reception desk and busied herself with answering the phone.

  Billie Jo turned on her heel and headed for the back door and Deena for her office. With my client off to greener pastures, I took a walk-in to fill my now blank appointment space. After finishing with her, I took a couple of haircuts and waxing appointments to fatten my paycheck. The rest of the morning passed without incident, and I began to relax.

  Until Lilith Lacewell waltzed in out of the blue accompanied by Billie Jo.

  Caught completely by surprise, I dropped my scissors onto the workstation counter, stunned and frightened for my pregnant sister’s safety, and zeroed in on those smiling amethyst eyes sending out spirals of black light that only I could perceive. The sounds of the salon faded into the background as my spiritual equilibrium wavered under the onslaught of Lilith’s evil manipulations. Just under the cosmic current I detected a shift to the left in the vibrational frequency of the angels and sucked in a deep, calming breath as pinpricks of electricity goose bumped my skin and fizzed my hair. If this kept up, I’d be sporting a style from the 60s.

  A flash of color to my right caught my attention, and I turned to see Deena rush out of her office to join the others. I tried to move, to intercept her, but a strange force held me to the floor. I'm not sure I sensed it, or how it caught my attention, but on the top shelf, above Mama’s head, a heavy speaker moved closer to the edge. Fighting to overcome my totally unnatural paralysis, I let out a silent scream and struggled to move.

  Amethyst eyes burned into mine with evil intent. Lilith inched closer to Mama, her eyes never leaving mine, a secretive smile etching her ruby lips.

  I watched in frozen horror as the speaker toppled off the shelf as Lilith, with a shout, reacted quickly, barreling into Mama and knocking her to the floor. The speaker lay shattered on the hardwood floor just feet from Mama. Twice now, in three short hours she had come perilously close to being seriously injured, or worse— killed in a freak accident.

  Strike Two had come too close for comfort, and it was up to me to save her from the Death Angel.

  And that would be easier said than done. Fighting the invisible world was like swatting gnats with a baseball bat.

  Chapter Four

  Love Will Keep Us Together

  I dropped to my knees beside Mama. “Are you all right?” I gave her a light pat on the cheeks, then checked her pulse. Strong and steady. A little fast, but not alarmingly so after the harrowing mishap. “Mama, open your eyes. It’s me, Jolene.”

  By this time, Deena and Billie Jo and the rest of the shop had gathered around Mama’s prone form. “Someone call nine-one-one.” Deena’s voice rose an octave. “Hurry!”

  “I’m on it,” a client’s voice squealed behind me. Panic laced her voice as she spoke with the emergency operator.

  Mama’s eyelids fluttered, then opened. “What’s going on?” She struggled to rise, but I pressed her back down onto the floor.

  “”Don’t move,” I ordered in a crisp voice, my mind tumbling over itself as my psychic radar scanned the atmosphere for any further invisible danger. Not perceiving any, I slid my hand under Mama’s head to check for blood. None. Good. “You may have a concussion, so lie still until the paramedics arrive.”

  Murmurs of agreement rose around us. Both my sisters pushed through the crowd and crouched down beside Mama. “Do as Jolene says, Mama.” Concern deepened Billie Jo’s voice. Her hands quivered as they smoothed Mama’s dress down over her knees.

  “Should I call Daddy?” Deena cast me a questioning look.

  Mama’s eyes grew rounder, and breathing fast, she struggled against the hands pinning her to the floor. “Let me up,” she protested. “And don’t you dare call and worry your daddy. I’m fine.”

  “You’re not,” Deena protested in a loud voice. “If it hadn’t been for Lilith’s quick thinking, you’d be, well, I don’t want to think about it.”

  I didn’t either, because I had to consider that Lilith Lacewell staged Mama’s near-fatal accident. What’s her game? First promising to protect Mama, and then almost wiped her out with a speaker? I studied the crowd but didn’t see the she-demon from Hell. My psychic receptors continued to scan the group for the universal messenger of evil. A chill swept over me as I peered into anxious faces surrounding me. She was here. Evil has a particular feel.

  Sirens wailed in the distance, and then closer until a blue and white ambulance pulled up out front. A fire truck followed close behind, and then a police cruiser. Seconds later, the bell over the front door jangled, and the first responders rushed in, dispersing the crowd. Two police officers immediately began to usher people out of the way.

  My sisters and I climbed to our feet, and together, we stepped back, giving the paramedics room to work. Through the noise, I could hear Mama’s robust tone complaining about the fuss being made over her.

  The female police officer—her name tag read B. Rivers—stepped away from her partner and made her way over to us.

  “What happened here?” Officer Rivers took out a small notepad and pen from her front shirt pocket.

  Billie Jo, eyes as wide as saucers, exclaimed, “It was an accident! That heavy speaker tumbled off the shelf, almost hitting my mother.” She pointed to the shattered speaker. “Lilith pushed Mama out of the way and saved her life.”

  Officer Rivers jotted the information down, then skirted around the broken speaker, and finally glanced up. “It fell from that top shelf?” She asked with staid calmness, but her brown eyes were startled.

  “Yes, the top shelf,” Deena added. “I’m not sure how it happened. I made sure all the speakers were anchored to the wall. The strap must’ve broken.”

  “Anything to add?” Officer Rivers directed her question to me. I had plenty to add but knew my comments and speculations about Mama’s accident would land me promptly in the psych ward, and I was running out of time. Two attempts on her life were two too many. I had to get a handle on the situation and fast. And I needed Scarlett’s help to round up that she-demon from Hell.

  “I believe my sisters have given all the pertinent information, Officer,” I said, my voice as strained as my nerves.

  “This appears to be an accident, but before I wrap this up, I would like to speak with Lilith Lacewell if you would point her out,” Officer Rivers said, her brown eyes darted over my shoulder at the patrons and staff seated in the reception area.

  “She’s the pretty redhead talking with your partner.”

  I spun my head to glance over my shoulder at Billie Jo’s words, and met the icy gaze of the woman herself.

  Yep, just as I suspected. Guilty as sin. Those amethyst eyes said as much
as they pierced through me. For a second, another thought set my brain a smoking—what if Lilith was, in fact, the Death Angel, and not the she-demon from the Garden of Eden? What if she’d duped me into believing a lie? And what if I were in league with the enemy? Damn, my head was spinning with unanswered questions, and I had to get Scarlett down here fast if I wanted to derail Heaven’s plans.

  Officer Rivers halted my disturbing thoughts when she moved over to join her partner and Lilith. I followed, feeling impatient and not content to be left out of the loop. I stood just off to the side, my sleuthing periscope up and zeroing in on Lilith’s deceptively sweet voice.

  “Yes, Officer Rivers. I would be happy to answer any questions you have, but I’ve just done so with,” here she paused to lay a hand on the male officer’s arm. Her eyes and mouth were posed to charm, and her voice twanged with an exaggerated Southern accent I knew to be false. “This here handsome officer. But I’m anxious to be of help, so ask away.”

  Billie Jo, who stood next to me and heard the exchange, nudged me with her elbow. “Isn’t she wonderful? A real heroine.” She sighed dramatically. “Admit it, Jolene. You were wrong about her.”

  Like hell I was, and no way would I admit to anything. I’d spend the night in a viper’s nest blindfolded with my hands tied behind my back. For the tenth time this morning, my bloodpressure spiked, and I felt the first pings of a migraine coming on.

  “Mama’s fine now, Billie Jo. Why don’t you go home and get some rest?” I suggested in a strong whisper. “The doctor said too much excitement isn’t good for the baby.” I laid my hand on her belly. “Perhaps I should call Roddy.”

  Man, oh man. That did the trick. Billie Jo shot me a frustrated look. “Tattle-telling is for kids, Jolene.”

  “Adults are just kids playing grown-up, sis.” I gave a limp shrug. “And I’m only thinking of the baby. However, do what you want. I’m sure you know better than the doctors.”

  That last statement brought a flush to her cheeks. “Okay, you win. For now.” She stalked off towards Deena and Mama, who was now sitting in one of the reception chairs that had been brought over by one of our patron’s.