The Ex Who Wouldn't Die (23 page)

A tall man wearing an ill-fitting suit moved out of the crowd and draped a long arm around Irene's shoulders.
Son
Hank, the carpenter, a younger version of his father. "We need to leave for the cemetery, Mama," he said softly. Still clutching her husband's arm, Irene turned to her oldest son and nodded, her features crumbling at the reminder that they would
soon be burying one of her children
.

"The cemetery?" Charley exclaimed. "That place is creepy. I'm not going there."

Impulsively, Amanda stepped forward and took Irene's hand. "That's not Charley in that casket," she blurted. "He's still here."
Oh, great,
she thought as she realized what she was saying.
That'll comfort her a lot. Tell her Charley
's
a ghost and let her think her new-found daughter-in-law is nuts.
"I mean—"

But Irene patted her hand. "I know what you mean. Charley will be with us in our hearts as long as we have his memory."

"Damn straight," Charley said. "I'm here and I'm not going anywhere anytime soon. Certainly not to that cemetery. Hey, what if I suffocate when they put my body under all that dirt? Come on, Amanda. Let's get out of here."

"I believe there's a tradition," Amanda said, "that someone close to the deceased drops the first bit of dirt onto the casket after they put it in the grave. If you don't mind, I'd like to have that honor."

"Of course you can," Irene said, smiling through her tears. "If Charley's watching from heaven, I'm sure he's real proud that you want to do that."

"I feel certain he's watching and knows."

"That's low, Amanda," Charley said, "really low."

Amanda gave him a brief smirk as she joined the rest of the family, heading for the cemetery.

***

The after-funeral event was an occasion for family members, friends and neighbors, and the little house was even more packed with people and food than the first evening. They filled the house, the front porch and much of the yard.

Amanda piled fried chicken, fried okra, fried squash,
Crowder
peas, fried potatoes with onions and a slice of smoked ham onto a plate painted with purple flowers, then grabbed a fork with bent tines and a fruit jar filled with iced tea. She could get used to this. Perhaps it was a good thing Charley hadn't introduced her to his family.
T
he thought of losing these wonderful people with their wonderful food would have made it a lot harder to divorce his sorry ass.

Pushing through the crowd, she found an unoccupied chair in a corner of the living room and sat down to enjoy the food.

"Wish I could still eat," Charley said, sitting cross legged on the floor. One of his knees passed through an elderly woman's stocking-clad leg.

"I wish you'd go away." Amanda bit into a crunchy drumstick, savoring the moist chicken.

"Mrs. Kemp probably killed that chicken this morning. Doesn't that bother you?"

"Might if that chicken's ghost was haunting me, but it's not." She took a bite of the okra. "Mmmm! This is so good!"

"You can be a cold woman, Amanda."

"Excuse me? I don't think the okra suffered."

"I'm talking about that huge clod of dirt you threw on my coffin. And you threw it with so much force. I'm surprised you didn't break the coffin."

"That was my intention. Break the coffin and throw the dirt in your face. Tell me about Sunny Donovan."

Charley's eyes widened, his face went distinctly pale, even for a ghost, and his gaze slid to the side. All these reactions belied his casual shrug. "Nothing to tell about Sunny. She does a lot of free legal work. She got me out of a scrape once.
A little pot.
No big deal."

"You're lying to me, Charley."

His eyes lifted to meet her gaze. "I'm not! I told you I can't lie."

"And I'm supposed to believe that, why?"

"Because I can't lie. Ask me a question and I'll try to lie and you'll see."

Amanda realized Charley's assertion made absolutely no sense, but it was worth a shot just in case he might burst into flames or be sucked away into a void should he try to lie. "Did you sleep with Sunny Donovan?"

"No!" he responded indignantly. "I can't believe you'd even ask me something like that."

"She's beautiful."

"She's old."

"Did you try to sleep with her?"

Charley opened his mouth, and his face contorted as if the muscles were battling with each other. "N-n-n-yes." He drew in a deep breath and glared. "I hope you're happy now."

"There you are."
Irene came up, and Charley moved away
. "I've been looking for you. I see you got some food. If you haven't had dessert yet, you have got to have some of Dorothy Crawley's pecan pie. She's got a tree in her back yard and shelled the pecans herself this morning."

Amanda let Irene lead her across the room th
ough she would have liked to question Charley further about Sunny Donovan. Being rejected by a woman didn't seem enough to explain the way Charley acted about her. That, added to the fact Amanda was certain she'd met the woman before, aroused her curiosity. Before she left Silver Creek, she was going to find some way to meet Sunny Donovan.

A shiver darted down her spine as she recalled the other person
in Silver Creek
she
needed to find out about.
Mayor Kimball.
If half of what Charley said about him was true, if he had stolen the gun that could prove her innocence, she would have to somehow get that gun back. A
fter meeting the man,
looking into his eyes, Charley's stories didn't seem so ridiculous.

"He's outside!" Charley hissed, as if reading her mind. She could only hope that was not one of his special ghost abilities.

"
Are you going to start that again?
" Amanda whispered, turning her head toward Charley, away from Irene.

"
I swear he is
! He's
out there
jacking with your motorcycle!"

Based on past experience, Amanda seriously doubted that Kimball was outside, but it could be that some drunk
was urinating on her bike
.

"I'm going outside for some fresh air," she said to Irene.

"You go right ahead. It is getting awful hot and crowded in here."

Amand
a made her way
to the front door. Stepping out onto the porch, she
saw her motorcycle and a man standing beside it, looking down
.

"I told you!" Charley gloated.

"What are you doing?" she demand
ing, running toward the man
.

Kimball lifted his cold gaze to hers and smiled. "Nice bike."

She stopped in her tracks
, a chill sliding over her in the warm night
. It was him. Charley was right. Not some distant cousin admiring her motorcycle, not some vagrant thinking about stealing it
or urinating on it
. Next to her bike stood the man who, according to Charley, had tried to k
ill her by
sabotaging
her other motorcycle.

"Yes," she said. "It's a nice bike. What are you doing to it?"

He lifted his hands in a gesture of innocence and moved away from the bike, walking toward her. "Just looking at
it. I ride a little.
"

She took an involuntary step backward, away from him. "Why are you here?"

"I came to pay my respects to the grieving family.
Why are you here?
"

"I'm a member of that grieving family," she replied indignantly. "I have a right to be here."

"Oh? Two weeks ago you'd never met these people and now you're a family member?
That's why you're here?
That's the only reason?
" H
e was no longer smiling, and h
is dark gaze held her as surely as if
his hands gripped her.
Then s
uddenly the smile returned and he looked past her, over her shoulder.
"Hello, Irene."

Amanda spun around to see her mother-in-law
standing in the open doorway.

"Hello, Roland. How nice of you to drop by.
" Irene was saying the
polite
words, but she didn't sound like she meant them.
"
Do come in. We have plenty of food and iced tea."

Kimball moved past Amanda
, up the porch steps and into the house.

Irene remained on the porch
. "You okay, Amanda?"

Amanda drew in a deep breath, steadying herself.
"Yes. Fine. I'll be
there in a couple of minutes
."

But she wasn't fine. She was freaked out and a little frightened.
That's why you're here?
That's the only reason?
What had he meant
by that? Since a normal person would expect her to be at her ex-husband's funeral festivities, was Kimball asking if she was there to
expose
him for his crimes?

She
shivered then forced herself to
walk over to her Harley.
"What did that monster
do to my bike?" she asked Charley.

"I don't know."

"What do you mean, you don't know? You said you saw him doing something!"

"I saw him standing there. He'd already done it, or
maybe
he was thinking about doing it."

"So you didn't really see anything?"

Charley's amiable features became suddenly serious.
"
I saw the way he looked at you. I heard what he said to you.
He thinks you're here because of him. He's scared of you, of what you know, and that makes him dangerous. You need to go back to Dallas
tonight
."

"
Go back to Dallas? You think I'll be safe there? You didn't think so when you were finding poison in my coffee and attempted murder in my dry rot.
Why are you so anxious to get me away from here?
"