“Sure enough. They played bingo at the church every Monday night like clockwork, chatting up a storm. Jenny Jane might not have been able to read, but she knew her numbers just fine.”
“Seeing Mayor Ramelle again also gives me another chance to ask her about Haywood.” I tossed aside the afghan. “Since we’re running short on time, I should probably go find her now.” My search for information on Avery Bryan could wait just a little bit longer.
“Sounds like a fine plan,” Ainsley said. “You don’t need me to go with you, do you?”
“No, why?”
“No use in letting all this go to waste,” she said, gesturing to the table. “Besides, someone should be here when Delia wakes up. You don’t mind if I stay, do you?”
It wasn’t very often Ainsley had a whole afternoon without the Clingons. I bent and gave her a hug. “Stay as long as you want.”
After Ainsley slipped a movie into the DVD player, she went over the dress I’d worn to the ball. “Just look at it. It’s a shame; that’s what it is.”
The dress was hanging on a hook near the door. It was utterly ruined, the hem in tatters. I’d already transferred money to pay for it outright, but I didn’t know what to do with the gown. For some reason I couldn’t bring myself to throw it out with the trash. “You want it?” I asked. “Maybe you can make something out of it that Olive can add to her dress-up box.”
“Really? I do have some ideas.”
“It’s yours.” I grabbed my sunglasses, coat, and shoes, and headed for the door.
Back on the couch, Ainsley tugged the blanket onto her lap and cracked open the bag of chips. “Oh, and Carly?”
Hand on the doorknob, I turned. “Yeah?”
“Could you please take the ghosts with you?”
Chapter Eleven
Mayor Ramelle lived in a big historical house near the river walk, not too far from the center of town. Her house wasn’t nearly as beautiful as the Ezekiel mansion but it was a favorite stop on the home tour hosted by the Harpies every summer.
The sun had come out, chasing away the chill in the air, and I’d opted to ride my bike to soak up the sunshine. Virgil and Jenny Jane floated behind me, and I hadn’t spotted any more ghosts roaming around on my way over here.
Thankfully.
A circular drive led up to the Georgian-style brick home that had a fancy fountain as a focal point in the front yard. I was so engrossed with the way fountain water shot out of various openings that I didn’t notice the white Mercedes convertible with its top down in the driveway until it honked at me.
Idella Deboe Kirby leaned over the driver’s door. Sunlight glinted off her blond highlights. “You’re lucky I didn’t run you over, Carly Bell.” Tsk.
I inwardly cringed at the sound as it grated on my nerves. On the surface, hers was a benign enough comment, and I wouldn’t have taken any umbrage at it except for the malicious gleam in her eyes beneath the brim of a dark sun hat. “Yes,” I said, edging my bike around the front bumper. “It would be terrible if you ended up sharing a prison cell with Patricia. Hello, Dr. Gabriel.”
In the passenger seat, Doc had just set a match to his pipe. He blew out the flame, took the pipe out of his mouth, and dropped his head into his hand. Looking up at me, there was an apology in his eyes as he said, “Good afternoon, Carly.”
Idella had taken over driving duties last spring when Doc’s cancer treatments had begun to cause double vision. I wondered if he was still having issues with his eyes even though he was in remission. Or whether Idella, a control freak, had decided not to relinquish the role once he’d gotten better.
“Patricia will be free and clear in no time at all,” Idella said, her nose in the air.
“I’m sure she will,” I said sickly sweet. It took all my might not to add a “bless her heart” to the statement. If Dylan and I were going to have a future, I needed to try to make nice with his mama. That meant even when she wasn’t around.
It was like to kill me.
“If you’re here to see Mayor Ramelle, she’s not at home,” Idella said. Tsk. “We just called on her ourselves.”
Disappointed, I glanced toward the house. “Do you know when she’ll be back? It’s a matter of some importance.”
“What kind of matter?” she asked, eyebrows drawn low, and I knew I’d said too much.
I waved a hand. “Zoning stuff. Bo-ring.”
“For your shop?” Doc asked.
Digging my hole deeper, I said, “No, no, it doesn’t matter.”
Idella sniffed. “I thought you just said it was a matter of some importance.” Tsk.
Dang.
Suddenly, a moan sounded, and they both whipped their heads left and right. Idella’s chestnut-colored bob swung this way and that. “What was that?” Idella asked, her voice high. “I didn’t run over a bullfrog or something, did I?”
Saved by a ghost.
On the other side of the car, Virgil was gesturing up a storm, motioning toward Dr. Gabriel. Even though this probably wasn’t the best time, I figured if I didn’t ask the vet about Louella, then Virgil was going to be fit to be tied.