The portal would be closing soon, and I was damn well going to make sure he had crossed over by then. Even if it meant that I ruffled some feathers. And put myself in danger.
“Listen, Carly, take my advice or don’t . . . I felt I owed it to you to try.” Idella walked off with one last tsk, leaving me standing in a cloud of her expensive perfume.
Louella growled in impatience as I shifted my weight. I was quickly running out of leads. All I had left was to question Patricia and Avery to uncover the truth. I wasn’t hopeful that either would be helpful.
I rubbed my temples. What a day this had been.
Picking up my basket, I found Virgil in the next aisle. He was barely visible as he pointed to a frilly pink collar studded with rhinestones.
Dutifully, I added it to my basket. “What’s next?”
He shook his head.
“We’re done?” I asked.
Yes. He knelt next to Louella, blew her kisses. Her tail thumped the floor.
“You’re leaving now?” I asked around the knot in my throat.
Looking up, he nodded. Instead of his beautiful brown eyes looking sad, they were filled with pure joy that came from deep within his soul.
He smiled at me and mouthed “thank you.”
Unable to speak, I nodded.
He blew me a kiss as his glimmer faded away completely.
I swiped tears with the back of my hand.
He was gone.
Louella barked and whined, and I knelt down next to her. “You’ll be okay,” I whispered, reaching out to pet her head.
She must not have believed me because she growled and bit my hand.
I let out a yip, then a laugh. “Come on,” I said. “Let’s go home.”
? ? ?
Roly and Poly were upstairs, giving me the silent treatment.
I didn’t blame them one little bit.
Because I was weak-willed where a certain man was concerned, a tyrant was in our house, making everyone cower at every growl that came from her throat.
Yes. Patricia Davis Jackson had arrived.
She’d come bearing a hostess gift of chocolate-covered cherries, which was my least favorite treat. Which she knew.
Currently, she sat ramrod-straight on my sofa. She had wiped it first with a handkerchief. Her judgmental gaze flicked around the room, narrowing ever so slightly at each of the housekeeping transgressions she came across as though keeping a mental list. Dust bunnies, check. Cat hair, check. Old magazines, check. Dirty windows, check, check, check.
The only things she seemed to tolerate were Dylan and Louella.
The darn dog had immediately taken a liking to her, and was sitting at her feet grumbling at anyone else who walked by.
Kindred spirits, I figured.
She-devils needed to stick together.
Patricia’s blond pixie cut was styled spikier than usual, and when she turned her head a certain way, it actually looked like she had devil’s horns.
I, however, didn’t point this out to her, which had nothing to do with manners and everything with how the devil-hair amused me.
Dylan had followed through on his promise to bring me a picture of his mama’s mug shot, and I’d been a bit let down by it. Somehow Patricia had managed to look nonplussed and elegant in the photo. I’d definitely gotten the raw end of my deal with Dylan.
He’d also brought home the news that Doug Ramelle had an airtight alibi for the time frame of the fire, so he wasn’t being considered a suspect. It was good to rule him out, but we were still left with a lot of questions as to who it could be.
Jenny Jane was at her post by the front door, and Louella didn’t seem the least bit bothered by her presence. The cats had been only mildly disturbed by her presence earlier—I swear they were getting accustomed to having ghosts around. They were slightly more perturbed by Louella, but mostly ignored her. However, they’d had cataclysmic hissy fits the moment Patricia walked through the front door. They hadn’t been seen since.
Delia had banished herself to the kitchen, and Boo slept on the rug near her feet as she stirred a big pot of chili. My stomach rumbled as I breathed in the scents of cumin and chili powder, onions and garlic. The corn bread I’d made was baking in the oven, and all I wanted to do was eat and go to bed. Mentally and physically I was wiped out.
Tomorrow promised to be a long day. As early as possible, Delia and I were going to drive downstate to see Moriah Booth Priddy. As the fates would have it, the address Mayor Ramelle left on my voice mail was in Opelika, a town adjacent to Auburn, so we planned to drop in on Avery Bryan as well. We were bucking our Southern raising and not calling ahead to Avery. We wanted to catch her off guard.
We weren’t calling Moriah, either, because there was no way to explain why we wanted to see her. We planned to stake out her house with Jenny Jane until she laid eyes on her grandchild, then skedaddle.
“More wine?” I asked Patricia.
Nodding, she held out her glass. “For an inexpensive brand, this is decent.”
“Inexpensive” was her classy way of calling the wine cheap.
I glanced at Dylan.
He smiled at me.