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Chapter One
“There’s a body in the bed.” Amilou Whittier’s husky voice emerged an
octave lower than normal.
“I told you we shouldn’t have had those mint juleps last night,” Korine
McFaile said to the third woman, who tugged on the wild honeysuckle vine
threatening to swamp the lone pine tree before her. The three friends and
partners in Three Dirty Women Landscaping, Inc. had toasted the success of their
first month in business the night before, and they were all a little worse for
wear that morning.
The vine slipped through Janey Bascom’s slim brown fingers. It snapped up,
butter-yellow blossoms showering Amilou’s petite blonde form. Amilou rocked
back on her haunches, braced her hands on her knees, and regarded the hole in an
ill-placed azalea bed the previous landscapers had insisted on installing.
“I’m not seeing things. It’s wearing a ring that looks an awful lot like
Greg’s wedding band.”
Korine and Janey exchanged looks that telegraphed concern. Amilou’s husband
had run off to California with a gold digger the month before. That was the main
reason the three of them were out in the heat gardening instead of sitting on
the porch with their tea. Amilou needed the money.
Amilou’s marriage had never been a comfortable one. Korine was relieved that
she no longer had to pretend to accept Greg Whittier in deference to her
friend’s feelings. Up till now, Amilou had been pretty philosophical about the
whole thing—except for her inheritance, which had disappeared along with Greg.
Why she would hallucinate his ring into a flower bed was beyond Korine.
Janey and Korine peered over their friend’s shoulder and shuddered. Amilou
wasn’t hallucinating. There was a hand: dirt-encrusted, male, and wearing a
ring that looked just like dear ol’ Greg’s gaudy gold-nugget band.
“Dear, sweet heaven.” Janey dropped to her knees next to Amilou.
“Do you think Susannah will fire us for finding him on her property?” Amilou
asked, sliding her red bandanna off her head and wiping her hands on it.
“One can only hope,” Korine muttered, watching Amilou carefully. Amilou was
much too calm for someone who’d discovered her husband buried in a former
rival’s backyard. The scene Susannah Graham had thrown at the church during
Greg and Amilou’s wedding twelve years before was legendary in Pine Grove.
Korine didn’t have to stretch to figure out how upset Susannah would be at
finding that Greg was dead and buried in her backyard. All she had to do was to
take the sour expression on Susannah’s face that morning when she opened the
door to discover Three Dirty Women on her doorstep and magnify it.
Susannah had called in some big-city landscaping company the week before to do
the area in the backyard that her daughter, Katie Anne, had picked for her
garden wedding. Susannah hadn’t considered that even the cookie-cutter
plantings around the oak tree made the rest of the yard look even worse than
usual by comparison.
However, that fact had not been lost on Katie Anne, who wanted every detail
perfect for her fairy tale garden wedding. The groom-to-be, Dennis McFaile, had
hired his aunt’s company, Three Dirty Women, to do Susannah’s front yard as
a surprise wedding gift for his bride.
Despite her first reaction, once Three Dirty Women was on the job, Susannah had
been stricken with an inexplicable fit of garden consciousness, and she asked
them to fix what her landscaping company had done. Hence the grisly finding
under the new azalea bed.
As Amilou accepted Janey’s hand to help her up, Korine caught her first good
look at Amilou. Her pupils were unnaturally wide. Her blonde head wove from side
to side in denial. With no small measure of relief, Korine recognized that what
she’d taken for calm was really numbness, born of shock. Spreading her thumb
and pinkie next to her ear, she raised her eyebrow at Janey.
Janey nodded reluctantly and turned away. Korine settled Amilou down on the
bench by the side of the curving drive and put her arm around her friend.
Amilou’s slight form was still, but her hands quivered like small birds
nesting on her lap.
Janey pulled her cell phone out of her back pocket and speed-dialed her
husband’s work number. Being married to the chief of police in Pine Grove sure
came in handy when you ran across the odd body or two in the yard.
“Good morning, Marlene. It’s Janey. Is J. J. in his office?”
Korine massaged Amilou’s tense shoulders and watched her other partner tap her
foot waiting for her husband to pick up the phone. They’d been talking about
starting this landscaping venture for years, finally acting on their plans when
Greg took off. Obviously Three Dirty Women had unearthed much more than they
bargained for.
“J. J., sweetheart?” Janey began, using her sweetest honey-do voice.
The annoyed voice of the chief of police floated over the grass to Korine’s
ears. Janey winced and held the phone out to Korine. J. J. must be cursing
again. Korine stood up and walked over to Janey and took the phone.
“Damn, girl, now what’ve you got yourselves into?” J. J.’s deep voice
complained. “And here I was thinkin’ that being up to your elbows in
fertilizer would keep y’all out of trouble.”
“J. J., it’s me, Korine.”
“Dad blame it, I did it again.” The sound of J. J.’s ample behind hitting
the polished oak of his desk chair came through loud and clear. “Is she
okay—I mean—still speaking to me?”
“What? Oh. Yes, she’s still on speaking terms—”
“Good,” J. J. cut her off. “I’m sorry to be so rude, Korine, but I asked
her not to call me anymore today unless it’s an emergency.” His voice
roughened again. “She knows we’ve got our hands full—and then some—with
those break-ins. Now that they’ve moved into the city limits, I’m not going
to pussyfoot around.”
Korine sighed. J. J. Bascom was a good police chief, and Janey a longtime
friend, but she really didn’t want to run interference for their marriage.
“It is an emergency. You know we’re over at Susannah Graham’s house
doing her yard for the wedding? We were working up a misplaced—”
“Get to the point, Korine.” J. J. sounded resigned as he interrupted.
She was surprised to find that a mist had gathered in her eyes, making it
necessary to dash her hand under both eyes before replying. “It’s Greg,”
she said, looking across the lawn at Amilou.
“Greg? That son of a . . . I heard he was back in town. Has he shown up there
trying to get his hands on what little he left Amilou?”
“I wish all he wanted was the rest of Amilou’s money. Greg is up to his
eyeballs in Susannah’s azalea bed. That’s why Janey called you rather
than Chaz. We need to report a crime, not engage in a legal battle,”
Korine snapped. “For heaven’s sake, J. J., you married a good woman. Give
her credit for brains. Do you remember where Susannah’s house is?”
J. J. sighed on the other end of the phone. “Around the corner from Grace
Baptist. I’ll be right over. Stop touching things. Let me do my job without
you girls gettin’ in the middle.”
Korine flipped Janey’s phone shut and turned at the slamming of the kitchen
screen door. Susannah came down the walk with a tray of iced tea and her famous
lemon bars. She stopped next to the pair standing by the now-open grave. The tea
glasses began to rattle on the periwinkle blue tray and then crashed to the
ground, pouring their contents into the hole. They were quickly followed by a
shower of powdered sugar as Susannah fainted dead away.
J. J. and Doc James arrived a few minutes later to find Korine, Janey, and
Amilou leaning over a prostrate Susannah.
“What have you done, Amilou?” Susannah demanded as soon as Doc James roused
her.
Amilou’s pale face lost what little color it had left. Her deep-set brown eyes
turned hard as pebbles as she regarded the softly rounded woman before her.
“What have I done?” Amilou’s voice rose as she repeated her
question. “What have I done? You were the one who insisted that we work here.
I wouldn’t put it past you, Lil’ Miss-Butter-Won’t-Melt-In-My-Mouth, to
kill him and plant him here just to get back at me. You’ve never forgiven him
for marrying me.”
Janey squeezed Amilou’s arm in warning. Amilou glared at her partner and shook
her off. There was a split second when Korine thought Amilou was going to strike
Janey for interfering. Instead, Amilou took a shuddering breath. Her face
crumpled as she swung blindly around and walked rapidly over to her battered
Volvo station wagon on the drive.
Susannah leaned in a little to J. J. as he helped her to her feet. If she
didn’t stop it, there might be more violence done—Janey was mild about
everything except her husband. Here Susannah’s old flame was, dead at her
feet, and she still found the energy to flirt. Despite her personal distaste for
the woman, Korine felt she needed to intervene.
However much Korine might wish it otherwise, she and Susannah would be related
after the wedding. She owed it to her nephew to keep Susannah from making a
complete fool of herself. “Would you mind if we took Amilou inside and got her
something cool to drink? She’s a little overwhelmed by all this.”
“Why, certainly,” Susannah replied, turning J. J. loose. “I don’t know
what came over me to say what I did. The poor thing must be feeling horrible. To
find him dead after she drove him into the arms of that floozy, Sally Tucker.”
Korine felt her face flush, and she took an involuntary step toward Susannah.
Susannah took a prudent step backward.
“That’s enough!” J. J. barked. “Would you ladies kindly quit dancing all
over my crime scene? If you’re going to hiss at one another, at least do it
inside. I’ll be in shortly and talk with all four of you.”
The red and white ambulance pulled up the drive behind them as Susannah led the
way back to the house. Korine stopped, leaving the back door open a crack. Out
beside the grave, J. J. took off his hat and scratched his shiny head. Doc
shrugged his shoulders in response to something J. J. said. Korine wondered what
Doc said next that made J. J.’s head come up so quickly. Doc shrugged again as
the police photographer slung his camera over his shoulder and strolled over to
the two men.
J. J. motioned to the laborers he’d brought with him. They worked the flower
bed gingerly. Small heaps of dirt grew in the emerald grass next to the bed.
They had uncovered an arm when one of the men gave a shout. His dark head bent
close over the hole as he leaned in for a closer look. He brushed away dirt with
his hand, then held something out to the chief. J. J. spoke sharply and took out
his handkerchief to take it from the man’s hand. Holding it up to the light,
he turned it over. It was a small, white, rectangular envelope.
Korine shut the door. She followed the sound of raised voices into the kitchen.
Time to pool their information. While she didn’t know what they’d found, she
did know who became the first suspect when a husband died. Amilou was going to
need their help.
“Did my finding Greg there make up for your losing him all those years ago?”
Amilou’s eyes were reddened, but dry, as she shook a fist full of tissues at
Susannah. The length of Susannah’s trestle-top kitchen table separated the
women. The chink of ice cubes falling into glasses came from behind the freezer
door.
Janey slammed the door and said, “Stop that right now. It won’t do any of us
any good to say hurtful things. You’ll only be sorry later.” She put a glass
of lemonade down on the table in front of Susannah.
“Don’t pull that ‘Be Sweet’ nonsense with me right now, Janey,” Amilou
snapped. “It’s not appropriate.”
Janey looked for a moment as if she would pour the lemonade over Amilou’s
head, but settled for setting it carefully down on the table. Korine wished that
Janey could let loose sometimes and show her anger, but she kept herself every
inch a lady, no matter how difficult her friends made it sometimes.
Korine dropped her hands to Amilou’s tense shoulders. “Amilou? Could you use
some bourbon in that lemonade to help calm your nerves? I could sure use a
little in mine.”
Janey turned to Susannah, who gestured toward the cabinet over the sink. Korine
took the chair closest to the wall and accepted the slippery glass from Janey.
She nodded approvingly as Janey added an inch or so to her own glass before
joining them at the table.
“I can’t believe Greg had the nerve to come back here,” Korine said.
“Had you seen him yet?”
“Yes, but why—” Amilou said.
“No!” Susannah blurted at the same time.
The three partners stared at Susannah for a moment.
“No, I didn’t see him? Or, no, you didn’t see him?” Amilou
asked in dulcet tones.
“Me?” Susannah opened her cornflower blue eyes wide and put her hands under
the table.
Amilou stared back at Susannah. Susannah’s gaze dropped first. There was no
doubt she was hiding something.
Korine covered Amilou’s cold left hand with her own and gave it a squeeze.
Amilou might be acting as if it didn’t hurt anymore, but one look in her
shadowed eyes gave the lie to her actions. The pain she’d been hiding from
them all this time was etched into the lines surrounding her fine brown eyes.
Amilou turned her hand over and squeezed back.
“He came by last night,” Amilou said, then paused to draw a shuddering
breath. Janey reached out and took Amilou’s free hand. Amilou tightened her
grip as if her life depended upon the contact with her friends. “He wanted . .
.” Her voice broke. “He wanted to come back home.”
Janey raised her carefully penciled eyebrow at Korine. Gently, she prompted
Amilou, “And?”
“I threw him out,” Amilou snapped, bursting into tears.
Susannah’s chair scraped over the linoleum as she shoved it back and fled down
the hall. Korine and Janey looked at each other. “What in the Sam Hill is
going on here?” Korine asked.
“I told you that little witch wanted us in that azalea bed for some unsavory
reason of her own,” Amilou said through her tears. “It was the only bed in
the yard that had already been done, and she told us to start there. Janey, I
know you don’t like to hear unpleasant things, but finding your husband like
that is more hateful than anything I could possibly say about that woman.”
At that moment, Korine was feeling quite hateful herself. But not so much toward
Susannah. Greg had been a nasty piece of work alive. Dead he might prove to be
even worse. “I don’t think Susannah knew any more than you did that Greg was
dead and buried in her backyard. Even she wouldn’t be that tacky,”
Korine pronounced thoughtfully.
“There has to be a logical reason that Greg was buried here at
Susannah’s,” Amilou said stubbornly.
“Susannah had the yard done last week,” Janey pointed out. “Very few
people knew that Dennis asked us to do it over. Anyone could have come in here
and buried him. You know how often Susannah works her yard. Whoever put Greg
there took a fairly safe bet that he wouldn’t be found anytime in the near
future.”
Amilou’s brows were still drawn down over her eyes. She hadn’t been
mollified a bit by Janey’s reasonable explanation. “Susannah has no plant
consciousness. The only reason she sent us out there to redo the backyard was so
we’d find Greg’s body.”
“That is exactly what puts Susannah right out of the picture,” Janey pointed
out. “Katie Anne is supposed to get married out there tomorrow not twenty feet
from that grave. If Susannah knew Greg was buried there, she never would have
let us dig him back up.”
Amilou’s mouth twisted in a wry grimace. “I hate it when you make us be
reasonable,” she said. “All right, I forgive her. So, if it wasn’t
Susannah, who was it?”
“Well, it wasn’t one of us,” Korine said. “Who else knew we’d be here
today?”
“Dennis only talked to you a few days ago,” Janey answered glumly. “I
guess the Harrisons would know since we had to move their yard back to next
week.”
“They’ll have told a few folks.” Amilou picked up her drink and took a
long sip. “I went in to see Chaz at his office yesterday morning to see what I
could do—that was legal—to get my money back from Greg. Chaz said he was
looking forward to seeing what we could do with the yard.”
“He’s my son, Amilou. I told him, so that doesn’t mean anything,” Korine
objected. “That still leaves it pretty much wide open. Who else would want to
kill Greg other than you, Amilou?”
“Me?” Amilou turned a stricken face to Korine. “Don’t tell me you
believe Susannah? I can’t hurt a fly, much less my husband.”
“Ex-husband-to-be,” a deep voice behind them said. J. J. stepped through the
doorway from the hall. “Much as I hate to do this, Amilou, I’m going to have
to ask you to come with me.”
“John Bascom, Junior. You simply cannot arrest one of my best friends,”
Janey said. “It’s not right.”
“Neither is this,” J. J. replied. He held up a letter, crumpled and smeared
with dirt.
Amilou’s face stilled, as if the only thing in her vision was the tattered
envelope. Then she drew a shuddering breath.
“What is it, Amilou?” Janey gave her husband a warning look. Her café-au-lait
skin had flushed, a clear clue that tears weren’t far away.
“It must be the only letter I wrote Greg after he left. In which—like an
idiot—I told him I’d kill him if he ever darkened my door again.”
“I’ll call Chaz,” Korine said.
“You do that,” J. J. said. “Tell him to meet us at my office.” He firmly
removed Janey’s restraining fingers from his arm. “I’m not arresting you,
Amilou. I’m taking you in to ‘help us with our inquiries.’” His tone was
apologetic. “Leon’ll be in to see you two and Susannah in a moment.”
Resolutely, he avoided looking down at his wife’s face. Like many strong men,
he was reduced to immobility if his wife began to cry. Korine had seen him give
in on more than one occasion. She hated it, but this time J. J. was right.
Janey flew out of the back door like hounds were nipping at her heels. For a
moment after the door slammed shut behind her, the only sound was that of a
horsefly trying to find a way through the screen in the window by the sink.
“Let’s go, J. J.,” Amilou said.
He turned reluctantly away from the sight of Janey’s upright figure standing
outside by the high hedge surrounding Susannah’s property. Apparently
satisfied that Janey would be okay, J. J. turned and gestured toward the front
door with his outstretched hand. Without looking at Korine, he turned and
followed Amilou out of the room.
Standing up on shaking legs, Korine picked up the phone and dialed her son’s
private office number. She jumped as the slap of the front screen door hitting
the jam sounded its parting shot.
“Chaz, we’ve got real trouble this time,” she said in response to her
son’s drawled hello. Having passed responsibility into his capable hands, her
legs buckled. Korine slid in slow motion down the wall behind her, laid her head
upon her knees, and began to cry.
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