Last Kiss Goodbye (11 page)

A flash of black caught his eyes and grabbed his attention. A black Mercedes parked in front of Talulah’s trailer. Glittery lights adorned the window frames of her place, and a red, heart-shaped wreath greeted visitors. A sign with Talulah’s name boldly painted on it hung beside the door, as if she meant to advertise her position as head mistress of Red Row.

His gaze landed back on the expensive sedan. Damn. It was the middle of the morning. He hadn’t expected her to be entertaining a john now. And in reality, he’d assumed Talulah had retired herself from the lineup. Must be a high payer or a long-time regular.

Curious as to her visitor’s identity, Matt drove past Talulah’s, then turned around at the end of the drive and parked several car lengths down, facing the row of trailers.

Fifteen minutes later, impatience gnawed at him as he watched the doorway. Finally, Talulah’s trailer door opened, and a gray-haired man with a slight paunch stepped onto the stoop. Matt squinted, waiting until the man turned so he could see his face. Shock bolted through him.

It had been fifteen years, and he was older and had beefed up, but Matt was damn certain the man was A.J.’s father.

Arthur Boles Senior had always been a pompous ass. He’d made money in real estate, had driven a fancy car and snubbed his nose at the trailer trash crowd. Funny that he didn’t mind supporting Talulah’s business. Just how long had Mr. Boles been one of Talulah’s customers?

An uneasy feeling slithered through Matt as his mind ticked away with speculations. Arthur Boles was exactly the kind of man who wouldn’t want his goings-on made public. Fifteen years ago, he’d been on the verge of success and had been cutthroat in his business dealings. Had he been cutthroat in personal matters, as well—enough to kill Lily Stanton if she’d threatened to reveal that he frequented Red Row?

TALULAH SHUDDERED as she watched Arthur climb into his Mercedes. Once upon a time, she’d actually harbored a crush on the real estate guru, but time had changed all that. He had been good to her financially all these years, however. For that she was grateful. He had kept her from having to stay on her back. And in exchange, she had accepted his money and guarded his precious secrets.

The wind blew raindrops on her face and she sighed, hating the bad weather and the trouble it always brought. It slowed down business, too. And sometimes the men got cranky, even rough with her girls, and she had to step in to protect them. She rubbed her thigh, where a scar still remained from one especially violent episode.

Lily Stanton’s pretty face slipped into her mind, and Talulah shuddered again as she reached for the doorknob to go back inside. But a car door slammed nearby, and she looked up, wondering if Arthur was back.

Instead, a younger man—handsome even with that jagged scar on his cheek—walked toward her. His tall, muscular frame sent excitement skittering through her. It had been a long time since she’d experienced a younger man’s touch. Maybe she’d handle this hunk herself, just for old time’s sake. God, he was so dark and sexy looking, she might not even charge him.

He climbed the steps, his gaze latching onto hers, and her stomach suddenly fluttered as recognition dawned.

“Matthew Mahoney. I should have known you’d come calling.”

His mouth tilted up slightly, the only sign of a reaction. Otherwise, he appeared to be a mass of controlled emotion and muscles.

“Come on in, darlin’. What can Talulah do for you?” She slid her hand around his arm and pulled him inside, suddenly wishing she’d taken the time to tidy up her place. And wishing she’d donned a little more makeup to camouflage her age lines. “It’s been forever, darling. I bet you need some good loving.”

Matt’s jaw tightened as he extracted her hand from his arm. “I didn’t come here for sex, Talulah.”

Her eyes widened. Was she so old now and uninviting that she was doomed to have a parade of men all day who just wanted to talk? Insulted, she dropped her voice to a purr. “But I know you haven’t married. And prison had to be lonely.”

His expression went from emotionless to stone-cold angry. “
Lonely
doesn’t begin to describe the hell I’ve been through.”

“I know, you poor baby.” She stroked his arm again, patted his cheek lovingly. “But Talulah will make you feel better.”

“Talulah, really, I’m not here for sex.”

Okay, if he didn’t want her, she could at least make some money off of him. He had to be horny. “I have some new girls, young ones, ripe for loving. They’ll do whatever you fancy.”

For a brief second, his eyes sparked as if he was tempted. Then he shook his head, dismissing the suggestion. “I want to talk, Talulah. Seriously, this is important.”

God, what was wrong with men these days? They had sex thrown in their faces and they denied Talulah. Had she really lost all her appeal? Or had the joint turned him into a freak? Maybe a homo.

“I did not kill Lily Stanton or her husband,” Matt said, “but I think I have an idea who did.”

She gasped, hating this kind of talk. Lady Bella Rue was her friend, but tolerating her friend’s constant barrage about the evil taxed her to the hilt. She preferred the lighter side of life, the exhilaration from living and having good sex. After all, sex added years to a person’s life, and Talulah wanted to stay young.

And if he was here, thinking she knew anything about that night, if he wanted answers…

“Who?” she croaked, already planning her lies.

“One of Lily’s lovers.” He hesitated, then folded his massive arms across his broad chest. “I need to know everyone Lily slept with, if one of her lovers or johns was serious about her, or if she might have been blackmailing a client.”

Talulah’s heart stuttered. How could she answer that question, plus protect her girls and her customers at the same time? No, Matt didn’t understand the kind of betrayal he was asking of her. And the danger in her talking…

If her girls and clients couldn’t count on her discretion, her confidence, then her entire foundation would fall apart. And if her male customers thought she’d spilled their secrets, they’d completely shut down her business.

Laughter bubbled in her throat. What would Kudzu Hollow do without her services? She kept the men alive and sane. And if she shut down, she’d have to go back to begging, lying on her back all day, start over from scratch.

Although if it came down to it,
she
could blackmail someone, she thought suddenly. But that was too damn dangerous.

Still, she knew half the town’s dirty little secrets. And if the shit hit the fan about what had happened years ago, and she needed out, she’d do whatever necessary to survive. Even open Pandora’s box and let the secrets spill out.

But for now…Talulah had to play innocent.

A wicked laugh caught in her throat. As innocent as the day she was born, and the woman who had spawned her…

CHAPTER EIGHT

IVY SQUINTED THROUGH the steamy windshield, struggling against the wind and rain as her car bounced over the ruts in the dirt drive. She’d spent most of the morning and afternoon researching more of the local legends, but now evening approached, and she was determined to see Lady Bella Rue before nightfall. Even if the old woman did have her spooked.

Her shanty sat back in the woods, shrouded by trees that robbed it of light, the rotting wooden sides so black they looked as if they’d been painted with soot. Smoke spiraled in puffy waves from the chimney top against the gray sky, casting a haze over the rundown house. Scrawny chickens scratched for food in a small pen; mud holes the size of basketballs dotted the yard like small ponds. On the sagging front porch sat an old washing machine topped with a collection of gourds. A feathered hat encircled with beads hung on the front door, and an assortment of dried roots, berries and snakeskins framed the doorway.

As Ivy climbed out of her car, the wet ground sucked at her feet, and the sound of voices chanting from the woods nearby echoed from the shadows of the trees. She pivoted to see a group of teenagers tossing rocks toward the windows, so enthralled by their taunting that they were oblivious to the rain or her arrival. She tugged her rain hood over her head and stepped carefully through the sludge, noting the various feathered animal parts hanging above one window. A wolf that had been stuffed but looked real guarded the front door.

A rock hit the pane, and glass burst and shattered. Laughter rippled from the teenagers as the chanting grew louder.

“Witch in the old shack,

Magic in the air,

Cooking up evil

With bones and hair.

Fingers and toes

She eats all day.

Boys and girls

She loves to slay.”

Angry and worried they might hurt the old lady, Ivy turned and yelled at them to leave.

A big boy in sagging pants and a black hooded sweatshirt tossed another rock at the porch. “You go in there, lady, and she’ll eat you, too!”

“She might cook you in her big pot,” another boy shouted.

A girl wearing scruffy jeans cupped her hands around her mouth and yelled, “Or throw you off a mountain ridge like she did her kid.”

“Or she might cast a spell on you and make snakes grow in your belly!” another boy called.

“Go home and leave her alone, or I’ll call the sheriff,” Ivy shouted back.

The door suddenly screeched open, and Lady Bella Rue’s frail body appeared, her eyes two dark, empty sockets. “Come on in before they hit you with one of them rocks.”

Ivy climbed the rickety steps and ducked her head beneath the doorway, blinking to adjust her eyes as she entered the dimly lit room. The ceiling was low, the wood floors aged, with threadbare braided rugs scattered on top. A long, battered kitchen worktable occupied most of the cramped space. Fire crackled in the fireplace, steam rose from a large black pot on the stove and the smell of something indistinguishable filled the air. Ivy shivered slightly, wondering about the rancid odor, but tried to ignore it as Lady Bella Rue took her coat.

“I hope you don’t mind me stopping by without calling first,” Ivy said.

The woman waved off her concern with a gnarled hand. “I knew you were coming.”

“You did?”

She nodded, and Ivy wondered if she truly was a seer. Taking a deep breath, Ivy scanned the remainder of the small combination kitchen-living room. A tall oak pie safe sat against one wall, overflowing with jars of various herbs, roots and other ingredients. More gourds held roots and herbs, as well as snakeskins, feathers, cloth pouches, dead toads and small bags that resembled the charms she’d seen in the New Age shops in Chattanooga. A large jar labeled Graveyard Dust sat on the mantel beside another that read Bones.

“Would you like a cup of tea?”

For a brief second, Ivy hesitated, her mind jolting back to the teenagers’ chants, but she refused to allow a few silly rhymes to spook her. This wasn’t a Hansel and Gretel story; it was real life, and Lady Bella Rue was not going to cook her in her cauldron.

“Don’t worry, dear. It’s all fresh roots and natural stuff that I use.” A tiny smile tilted the corners of Lady Bella Rue’s mouth as if she’d read Ivy’s thoughts. “Quite healthy, I might add.”

Ivy smiled and forced herself to relax, although a mouse skittered behind a cabinet in the corner and her skin crawled. “Tea would be nice. It’s so miserable outside.”

Lady Bella Rue pointed to a wooden, ladder-back chair, and Ivy settled into it. A black cat with three legs lay curled in the rocking chair situated by the fire. Three more cats, one gray and the other two black, had sprawled on the braided rug, and a stuffed raccoon and stuffed mountain lion held a place by the hearth.

At least inside, the drilling rain drowned out the sound of the teens’ vicious chants. “Do those kids bother you often?”

Lady Bella Rue clucked her teeth. “Every now and then. I don’t let them get to me, though. Sticks and stones, you know…” She tacked a piece of heavy plastic over the shattered window to keep out the rain, then removed the teakettle, poured hot water into two cups and tottered over and placed them on the table. “Once you’ve had real grief in your life, buried your own husband and son, nothing else can hurt you.”

A well of sadness pitted the woman’s eyes, but Ivy also saw ageless wisdom reflected from the depths, too.

“Then again, dear,” Lady Bella Rue said gently, “you understand about grieving and loss, don’t you?”

Ivy nodded, cupping her hands around the hot tea to warm them. Oddly, even with the strange collection of bones, animal feathers and God knew what else, she felt safe here with this woman. Maybe safer than she’d ever been in her life.

Except when Matt had held her.

Matt…her parents’ murders—the reason for her visit.

“There is evil in the town, as the children say,” Lady Bella Rue said in a low voice. “It’s been following you, child.”

“Yes. I ran away from it years ago, and I can’t do that now.”

“You are beginning to remember, am I right?”

“Little bits of my past. But that night…not as much as I want to.”

“There will be pain when you do,” she said.

Ivy’s stomach clenched. She was afraid of what she would discover. “It will be worth it to know the truth, though.” To free Matt. To free herself. No more nightmares. No more being locked into the patterns.

“Ahh, sometimes the truth can kill you.”

Ivy’s gaze shot upward. In Lady Bella Rue’s eyes, she read concern, not a threat.

“Did you know my mother?” she asked softly.

The older woman fiddled with the beads around her neck, then touched a pouch tucked inside her blouse. “Not well, but I knew of her.”

“Did she have friends? Anyone she was close to? Another woman? A man, maybe?”

“Your mother loved you very much, my dear.” An odd look passed across her face. “She wanted you to have a better life than she had.”

“I know.” Ivy confided about the photographs of the Ivy League schools.

“She thought she had found a way out for herself, for you.”

“You mean away from my father?”

“Yes, and a way to make enough money so you could have the life she wanted.”

“How?” Ivy sipped her tea. “Was she planning to leave my dad? Did she get a job somewhere?”

The old woman slid her wrinkled hand over Ivy’s and squeezed gently. “I do not have all the answers, child. I cannot see everything. But I do know that your mother trusted someone. She thought he was the answer to all her problems.”

“Who was it?”

“I don’t know his name. But this man that she trusted—he was the one who killed her.”

“COME ON, TALULAH. YOU know I didn’t kill Lily,” Matt said. “Who are you protecting?”

Talulah ran her ruby-red nails along the seam of her flimsy, white satin robe. “I can’t disclose my clients’ names, Matthew, or my customers would never come back.” She pursed her thick red lips into a pout. “And I’m not just here for talking.”

Frustration knotted Matt’s neck, but he removed his wallet and tossed three twenties on the table. “Did Lily ever speak about any man in particular?”

Talulah stuffed the money into her massive cleavage, intentionally leaning over to attract Matt’s attention. He did look—he couldn’t help it—but God help him, his body didn’t even twitch.

Not like it had with Ivy, and he’d only kissed her.

Damn. He had to forget about that kiss.

“I can’t give you a name,” Talulah said, “but she was excited, making plans to leave Kudzu Hollow. Some big real estate broker from Atlanta wanted to buy a lot of land, all of the junkyard property and more.”

Matt frowned. A.J.’s father had been involved in real estate for years. Did he know the man?

The fact that Arthur Boles had just visited Talulah triggered an entirely different thought pattern now—what if he had been involved with Lily? Or what if he’d introduced the real estate agent to her, or had arranged the deal himself?

“Did the sale go through?” Matt asked.

Talulah shrugged, one side of her robe sliding down to reveal her pale shoulder. “Must not have. The junkyard’s still there.”

“But there is a new subdivision nearby. Maybe she sold only part of the land.”

Talulah rolled her eyes, then checked the polish on her nails, looking bored. “I don’t talk business with my people. Didn’t back then, either.”

“No pillow talk?”

A wicked smile curled her painted lips. “Well, if they want to talk, I listen. But business stuff goes in one ear and out the next.”

He didn’t buy her story for a minute. Talulah was not the fluffy dumb blonde she portrayed to the world. She might have snitched business tips from her johns and made her own fortune off of them.

“I heard Ivy Stanton is back in town,” Talulah said, taking him off guard with the change in subject.

“Who told you that?”

“News travels fast around here, Matt.”

And he’d bet Talulah knew more about the people in this town than anyone, even their own families. Hell, Ivy had filed that police report. The deputy or A.J. or even a secretary at the courthouse or jail could have revealed her identity.

“Have you seen her?” Talulah asked.

Matt nodded.

“What does she look like now?” The woman’s expression turned almost wistful. “Is she as beautiful as her mother?”

More so, Matt wanted to say. But she wasn’t a hooker. No, Ivy was innocent and trusting and…nothing like Lily Stanton.

Instead he simply nodded. “Someone threatened her already and warned her to leave town.”

Talulah averted her gaze. “Maybe she should listen. For the past few years, this town has known nothing but death and evil. There was another murder last night. Poor Dora Leigh Werth.”

“Maybe it’s time to end the cycle,” Matt said. “And the only way to do that is for everyone to stop keeping secrets. Find out what’s really going on around here.”

“So, you intend to tell Ivy about her mother and Red Row?”

His insides twisted. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt Ivy. “Maybe I can find the answers on my own without her discovering her mother’s indiscretions.”

She tilted her head in thought. “If you’re so determined to stir up trouble and dig around, the best place to go is the Ole Peculiar. Buck, the owner, has been around forever. His son helps him out now, serves as bartender.”

“Nemo is a bartender?” In high school, he’d been a big football jock looking toward a scholarship.

“Yes, it was sad. His senior year, he and two of his buddies were joyriding and had an accident on Rattlesnake Mountain. Didn’t think Nemo would make it, but he survived.” She crossed herself. “He has a limp and some brain damage, though. Took him months before he could even talk again.”

Matt frowned. So Nemo had received a bum wrap in life, as well. Even worse than Matt—at least his own mind and body were intact.

Talulah was right. If he wanted to find out which men frequented Red Row, and who had been regulars in the past, the best place to pick up that kind of information was at the Ole Peculiar.

“Thanks, Talulah.” He stood, leaned over and dropped a kiss on her cheek.

She grinned, ran her fingers up along the nape of his neck and pulled him down to plant a juicy one on his mouth. “If you want anything else, just come back to Talulah, sugar.”

He smiled, turned and walked out the door, then wiped the lipstick off his lips with his handkerchief. After fifteen years of doing without sex on a regular basis, he should have accepted her offer. Hell, he should have jumped at it. Gotten screwed, then asked the questions.

Unfortunately, that kiss from Ivy taunted him. Her sweet taste. Those soft luscious lips. She was the only female he wanted to crawl into bed with and get naked.

But she was the one woman he couldn’t have.

Stewing over the reasons, he climbed into his Pathfinder and headed toward town, steering the SUV through the trailer park one more time. Like a glutton for punishment, he slowed when he spotted a faded tan Chevy sitting in front of his mother’s trailer.

He wondered who the car belonged to, then saw the license plate, and his gut clenched. The personalized tag read BOSS. He muttered a curse. He knew that tag. The car belonged to Lumbar, the former sheriff who’d locked Matt away for a crime he hadn’t committed.

Why the hell was he visiting Matt’s mother?

LADY BELLA RUE HANDED Ivy the small pouch. “Hang this mojo around your neck and it will protect you.” She removed another one from her pocket. “And dig a hole under the front steps of the place where you’re staying. This will help ward off the evil and danger.”

Ivy accepted the homemade charms, wrinkling her nose at the strong odor of the one intended to be buried. “What’s in here?”

“Oh, just a little graveyard dust, High John the Conqueror root, eel skin, crushed bones and steel dust. It’s soaked in urine.” Lady Bella Rue lapsed into a discussion of the old voodoo customs and spells used for protection purposes.

“Do you mind if I include you in my article?” Ivy asked. “I think readers would be interested in the information about hoodoo and root doctoring.”