Strung Out to Die Read online

  I craned my neck to see inside the open barn door. I’d never been inside since it was off limits. Jim had made that crystal clear with the handshake agreement we made about the living arrangements. A handshake was taken just as seriously as a written contract in Swanee. Besides, Ginger and I were best friends. If you can’t trust your best friend or her husband, whom can you trust?

  Then again, I was beginning to wonder about the answer to that question.

  “Hi, Holly.” Jim and his ten-gallon cowboy hat appeared out of nowhere in the barn doorway. His eyes were red around the lids. He took his hat off and whacked it up against his legs. Dirt came flying out of it. “I had to get away.”

  A cloud of dust following him as he shuffled closer.

  Jim always wore his jeans all the way up to his navel. These jeans weren’t just any blue, either. They were the bluest blue you’ve ever seen; indigo in fact. His big money-sign belt buckle was always polished and front and center, keeping his neatly pressed collared shirt tucked in tight.

  The color of the shirt changed daily, but you could bet he’d always be in an identical pair of blue jeans, with the same belt buckle and cowboy boots day in and day out.

  But not today.

  His slicked back, coal black hair flopped to the side. And his shirt was wrinkled and untucked, and those jeans of his were a little on the gray side.

  “I’m sorry about Doug.” I wasn’t sure what to say, since he was found dead in my shop. “I don’t know why he was at The Beaded Dragonfly.”

  I did wonder if Ginger suspected I had something to do with Doug’s murder and hoped Jim would say something–anything–to make me feel better.

  “Do you have anything you want to tell me, Holly?” he asked, staring at me in a peculiar, almost accusing way. “Ginger and I can’t figure out why he’d be there either.”

  “I have no clue.” I shook my head. It was a question I’d asked myself over and over again the past few hours. The sick feeling had now settled to scared stiff. Obviously, they considered me a suspect. But why? What would my motive for strangling Doug Sloan be? Clearing my throat, I asked, “How is Ginger?”

  “Distraught.” Sadness was all over his face. “Ginger and I want answers.”

  He turned to go back to the barn, but stopped. “I wish you would’ve installed those cameras,” he muttered as he walked back to shut the barn door and then jumped into his truck.

  He hadn’t made me feel better at all.

  As I watched him drive away, I wished he’d talked me into those security cameras too.

  When I first opened The Beaded Dragonfly, Jim’s security business, Rush’s Protective Services, was flourishing. He’d even offered me a deal.

  “I’ll give you three cameras for the price of two.” I recalled him holding up the cameras that were no bigger than the palm of my hand, but the price tag was huge.

  Eight thousand dollars was just more than I had to invest.

  “I can’t afford my own house, much less eight thousand dollars worth of camera equipment.” I’d reminded him of our handshake agreement.

  “What about the alimony money?” he’d asked.

  “What alimony?” I laughed. “Doug gets all the jobs around here.”

  That was the end of that conversation. Eight thousand dollars sounded like a great investment now.

  I turned around and looked at the gray clapboard, three-room cottage I called home. It was all I needed after my divorce. Three rooms were big enough for all the stuff I had collected over the years. The best part wasn’t the wall of windows that overlooked the lake or the fact that Ginger pays someone to squeegee them, but the furniture.

  It came fully furnished and the only ‘Unders’ in the entire place were beneath the futon and the claw-foot tub.

  The cabinets in the kitchen went all the way down to the floor. There wasn’t a kitchen table to worry about sweeping under, no book shelves to dust under, no Unders whatsoever.

  There were built-in bookshelves in the family room. The bedroom was plain and simple with just a box spring and mattress. The closet was all I needed for what little clothes I was fitting into at the time.

  I stopped shy of the door after I heard a rustling sound behind me. I bolted upright, and stiffened, trying not to move, blink, or even breathe.

  Was the real killer already here to claim my life?

  Willow sniffed the paver stones. My nerves were getting the best of me. Someone might be out there to get me, but they’d be stupid to try in the daylight?

  “Psst,” someone said from the shaking bushes.

  I jumped. Putting my hands up in the only karate chop position I knew, I scream, “Watch out, I’m armed and dangerous!”

  “With what? That pig?” The whisper that was loud but familiar, gave way to laughter. The bush shook again. “Holly, look over here.”

  I looked. The pink sneakers sticking out from the bushes were a dead give-away.

  “Bernadine, what are you doing in there?” I parted the twigs, but Willow had already begun her ritual of licking Bernadine.

  “Ouch!” Bernadine untangled her long crimson hair that was caught up in the bush and pushed Willow away. “I didn’t want Jim to see me since it was his brother-in-law that was killed in the shop. Enough, Willow.”

  Willow liked Bernadine. Well, she liked the cut up apples and grapes that Bernadine kept in a Ziploc baggie in her pocket.

  “Food Watchers,” she would claim, holding the snack up every time I suggested she keep them at home. As long as I’ve known Bernadine, she’d been on Food Watchers. Only she really didn’t watch her food or her weight. She’d always been the same five-foot-one and a little on the plump side.

  The keys jingled and jangled as I tried to pry the door open. With a swift kick to the bottom corner and a little nudge, the door opened. Willow flew in, anticipating a spot on the futon right next to Bernadine and her Ziploc baggie.

  “I really need to get that fixed,” I said, referring to the door as I threw the keys in the basket on the counter top.

  Bernadine walked in behind me, nearly knocking me out of the way. The keys fell to the ground. She hung them up on the hook and straightened the remaining items in the basket. I’d gotten used to it. She was a neat freak. “There is a rightful place for everything,” she said.

  Yes, there was, and a Dead Doug’s rightful place was not on the floor of my bead shop.

  “Did you call Ginger?”

  Bernadine grabbed a carrot stick out of her Ziploc, breaking the silence with a big crunch. “No.” She chomped, looking at me as if I had two heads. “Do you honestly think she feels like coming to an emergency meeting? Especially since it has to do with her dead brother lying on the floor of your shop.”

  “Yeah, you’re right.” Although I hadn’t called Ginger, and knew that she wasn’t terribly fond of Doug and his sneaky ways, I was sure she didn’t want to see him dead. She was my best friend and couldn’t think that I actually killed him. Could she?

  Bernadine chased her carrot stick with a few pea pods. I cringed at the thought of eating a pea pod and the reality of calling Ginger.

  The door flew open and Willow nearly broke her legs running to the back of the cottage out of shear fright.

  “What’s the emergency?” Diva Flora bolted in the door with her designer bag hanging off the crook of one arm, and a stack of glass-beaded bracelets jingling on the other. Her cell phone was pressed up to her ear, as usual. “No, not you. I’ll call you back. And don’t think you are getting my Cher albums!” She flipped her phone shut and threw it in her bag.

  Out of all the Divas, Flora never missed a bead class or an opportunity to make a beaded bracelet.

  This was a first. I glanced at the space between her shoulder and ear. I looked for a charging station in that space because Flora was rarely seen without her phone planted there.

  “Who died?” She glanced at her outstretched hand inspecting her nails.

  “Doug Sloan,” I muttered.
She obviously hadn’t heard about the murder, which wasn’t unusual because she was probably on the phone all day.

  Flora’s mouth formed an ‘O.’ “You mean Ginger’s Doug Sloan?” Nervously she ran her hands through her thick wavy brown hair and pulled it back into a makeshift ponytail. The color seemed to fade from her high-cheek bones, leaving her a little gaunt, making her look her actual age of fifty.

  Slowly, Bernadine and I nodded. Slower, she eased herself on the couch next to us.

  Quietly, she added, “So, this is what the meeting is about.”

  We nodded…again.

  “How? Spill it.” She reached in her bag and grabbed the vibrating phone. Even in an emergency, she still couldn’t leave the phone alone. A good reason I didn’t have a cell. I didn’t want to be tied to it. “I’ll call you back!” she chirped, and then flipped it shut. “It was only Benni,” she explained, “Again.”

  It was like her ex’s name was attached to her eyeballs. Every time she said his name, her eyes rolled.

  “We are actually fighting over who gets the record album collection.” She shrugged her shoulders. “I’ll be damned if I let him and what’s-his-name drink wine to my Cher albums.”

  Her divorce was a messy one. They had been married for twenty years when he came out and told her he was gay. “I’ll make that bastard pay,” she’d say. She didn’t mind telling people how much she got in alimony. Needless to say, it was four times what I got. I guess lawyers really do make a lot more than carpenters do.

  Now, even though her divorce was final, they still hadn’t split all the property. She put her distaste for him aside when I needed the papers filed for the shop. He’d done them free. Flora claimed he still owed her. I wondered if he’d ever done a murder case.

  “Holly, are you okay?” Flora asked.

  I nodded. Not really, but who would be if someone were in my shoes. Everyone needed to hurry up. There wasn’t any sticky situation that we Divas haven’t figured out; only those situations didn’t involve murder.

  The knock at the door made us all jump. I guess we were all on edge.

  Cheri stood on the other side when I opened the door. She was as cute as ever with her plaid beret perched on top of her head.

  She was a college student that rented the one bedroom apartment above the shop. She was rarely home because she spent most her time on campus studying. She did keep an eye on the shop for me every now-and-then, or took Willow on quick walks.

  “I got her message, but I had already heard the news. Thank God I was at the library pulling an all-nighter.” She took the beret off her head and used her fingers to re-spike her hair as she walked in and planted herself in a chair. “It’s all over campus that there’s a killer on the loose.”

  “Carrot?” Bernadine leaned over offering a snack from the bag. Cheri took a carrot stick.

  The crackle from the plastic sent Willow flying down the hall and she planted her butt in front of Cheri, who was a sucker for Willow’s little beady eyes. Cheri fed Willow the carrot. Once in her mouth, Willow darted back down the hall with her tail twirling in the air.

  “Wait.” Flora put her hand in the air. “What exactly happened?”

  I stood in front of my friends. It was now time to put all our real sleuthing that we used on our ex-husbands to the test. I cleared my throat.

  “Doug was found dead on the floor of the Beaded Dragonfly with a strand of black cat eye beads around his neck.” I put my hand to my chest. “I did not kill him, but someone wants the police to think I did.”

  Flora picked at the cat eye bracelet on her arm.

  “Marlene believes that Sean is the murderer, and for good reasons. I will deal with Sean,” I added.

  “Where is that gold-digger, Marlene?” Flora glanced around. “She is an honorary Diva.”

  “I didn’t call her, nor Agnes, or Ginger.” Bernadine glanced around at the other Divas. “We are the original Diva’s and I felt this was a matter for just us.”

  “I called this meeting because I need your help more than ever.” It was time to put our big talkin’ ways to the test. “I need y’all to help me figure out who is framing me and why.”

  “I’m in.” Bernadine’s eyes were big as she bit down on another carrot stick.

  “Me too, girl.” Flora slowly nodded, her eyes narrowed as if she was already formulating a plan in her head.

  “For sure!” Cheri rubbed her hands together.

  Now that I had their support, it was time to give out jobs.

  “Okay, Cheri. Last night Sean and Doug had a fight at The Livin’ End. Can you go down there and get the bar tender and regulars talking about it. This shouldn’t be hard since Doug is the talk of the town.”

  “I can.” She pulled her beret over her hair and headed out the door.

  “Flora, can you get Bennie’s private investigator to take a look around the Beaded Dragonfly? Inside and out. There was no visible cause of a break-in, so there has to be something somewhere.” I know this was a tall request; after all, the private investigator followed her for months, never once leaving her alone.

  Before I said another word, Flora was already on her cell and walking out. “Babbs, it’s Flora Branson. I need to talk to that no-good boss of yours, now!”

  The door slammed behind her.

  “What can I do?” Bernadine’s face lit up with excitement.

  “You can help me lose weight.” I crossed my arms in front of me. “I’m going to need to be in fighting shape when I kick this killer’s ass.”

  I peered out the window, and over the lake. Someone was out to frame me and I wasn’t going to sit around and let it happen. I was going to find them; somewhere, somehow.

  Chapter Five

  Groink, groink. Willow ran to the door when she heard a knock.

  I didn’t get an ounce of shuteye. And I wasn’t expecting anyone this early. Pulling the covers up over my head, I tried to ignore the loud knocking and the loud voice in my heading telling me that it was probably the police coming to arrest me.

  Flinging the covers off my body, I jumped up when I realized I hadn’t done a damn thing to help my cause. Sure, I divvied out a few orders to the Divas.

  If the police were here to take me in, they were going to have to take me kicking and screaming.

  My foot knocked the old rotary phone that was lying on the floor off the hook. Willow had a habit of knocking it off the bedside table when she scrambled under the bed.

  Seeing the phone made me feel a little better. Maybe someone had been trying to call me and couldn’t get through. Maybe it was Noah telling me that the police had found the killer and I was off the hook. Better yet, maybe Sean was in jail. Well, I really didn’t want Sean to be the killer.

  I owed rent on the Beaded Dragonfly, so I needed the alimony. If Sean were in jail, I wouldn’t get the alimony and be able to pay the rent.

  Damn. I let out a sigh, pulling on my big yellow bath robe.

  Bam, bam, bam.

  “I’m coming!” I yelled, when the knock grew louder. I took my time picking up the phone and putting it back in its rightful place.

  To my pleasant surprise, Bernadine stood on the other side of the door, with her pink tennis shoes and jogging suit on and yet another Ziploc baggie full of veggies in hand.

  “Morning, Holly. I was taking a walk and thought you might want to join me. I called your phone but it rang busy.” She jogged into the house, and then moseyed over to the futon. She put the veggies in her pocket and ran her hand along the crumpled up quilt. She folded it, neatly placing it back over the arm. “I would’ve called your cell. Oh, wait. You don’t have one.”

  There’s no reason for me to have a cell phone. I’m only responsible for one person and that would be me. I’m with me all the time; therefore, I have no reason to call myself. I’m always at home or at the shop, and both places have phones.

  “Good thing you live just across the lake so you could just stop by,” I said with a hint of sa
rcasm and pointed across the lake to her much larger log cabin.

  She was here for one reason and one reason only—to get me in fighting shape.

  Bernadine was right; I did need to exercise, not just to control my weight, but also to help me deal with the stress of finding Doug Sloan’s dead rump on my bead shop floor.

  She looked at me squarely.

  “Fine!” I walked back to the bedroom and pulled out the only jogging suit I had. I held it up. My nose curled. Orange was not my favorite choice to wear, and a jumpsuit didn’t look good on plump girls.

  “Come on.” Bernadine yelled from the other room. “Did you forget we have a killer to find?”

  I shuffled to the bathroom to splash a little water on my face in hopes it would help me wake up. The white-tiled bathroom was perfect for my minimalist decorating style.

  I looked in the mirror, noticing the black circles that had found a home under my tired eyes. “I bet jail has gray walls. Not a good color for me”, I told the image staring back at me.

  There was little to no motivation in me. With a heavy sigh, I turned on the water, and used my hands to throw it all over my face.

  Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Doug lying on the storage room floor with that strand of cat eye beads around his neck. A few more splashes still couldn’t wash away the image.

  “I think Willow is hungry. She’s trying to eat my bracelet.” I detected a hint of irritation in Bernadine’s voice.

  I walked back down the short hallway, lined with pictures of generations of Sloans. From what I understood, they used the cottage as getaway on the weekends.

  Ginger had told me to make it my home until I could afford a down payment on my own, but it felt funny changing out the human pictures for piggy photos.

  “Come on, girly.” I patted my leg for Willow to follow me to the refrigerator.

  Willow hopped off the futon, nudged her ball, and trotted over. I’ve never understood the affection she has for all things round. Peas, balls, beads, and Bernadine.