Chasing Shadows Page 3

  “You’re just never going to let that go, are you?”

  “Now, girls,” Jane said, stepping between Avery and Mildred. “There’s no point in getting into all that again.” She waved her drink hand in the air as she spoke and then placed the glass precariously onto her paper plate. “Avery, you can relax. Your grandmother and I are not up to anything nefarious.”

  “That’d be the first time,” Avery mumbled, still not convinced.

  “What was that?” Grandma snapped, furrowing her brow to the point that her little hat slid forward on her head.

  “Nothing.” Avery pinned her eyes on Jane. For all that she was her grandmother’s faithful and willing accomplice, Jane was as honest as the day was long. She may give her own version of the truth from time to time, but Avery knew she would never utter an outright lie. “So, tell me, what is it that you two are going to try and do again?”

  “Well,” Jane said with a tilt of her head, “we had wanted to offer our condolences to Loralyn’s late husband’s cousin from South Carolina a little while ago, but she was talking to some people. I was just telling Millie that she’s free.”

  “See,” Mildred snipped. “C’mon, Jane.” She threaded her arm around her friend’s and turned on one heel with an indignant sniff. “Let’s go somewhere we’re welcome.”

  With that, they marched off, weaving their way through the crowd assembled by the buffet table before heading off into the dining room. Heaving a sigh, Avery shook her head. Maybe she was being too hard on her grandmother. She had just lost a—whatever exactly Loralyn had been to her—and they always say that grief can do funny things to people. Of course, in her grandmother’s case…

  “Excuse me. You’re Avery, right?”

  Startled by the sound of the quiet voice, Avery spun around to find its source positioned by a heavily-cushioned easy chair that sat just in front of the bay window. She stared back at the woman, taking a moment to recognize who she was.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t speak to you last night,” Loralyn’s great-niece continued. “It had been a long day and it was just…well, a long day.”

  “Oh, hello, Miss…uh, Reinhart,” Avery said, finding her voice. She had overheard someone say earlier that Loralyn’s great-niece was from California and, seeing her now in a low-cut black dress and wearing impossibly high heels, Avery could easily believe it. “Please accept my condolences on your loss.”

  Holding Avery’s gaze, the woman took a long sip from the glass of tea she held. A drop of the amber liquid spilled out onto her cheek and she brushed it away with the back of one hand. The movement caused the frilly buttons on her dress to separate, showing just a hint of the black lace bra she wore underneath. Avery averted her eyes from the enticingly indecent sight and focused instead on the dangly silver earring that was peeking out from behind a cascade of scarlet hair. It was obvious from the way Loralyn’s great-niece dressed, the way she carried herself, that Avery’s initial impression of her the night before had been spot on. She’d met enough of her kind during the time she’d spent in Atlanta. To a woman, they had all been trouble.

  “Thank you,” the woman said, “And you can call me Cameron. Or just Cam.” She swept her free hand through her hair and seemed to stand a little straighter. “After all, we did go to high school together.”

  Um…what? “We did?” Avery cocked her head to the side. “Are you, uh, sure? It wasn’t that big of a school, and I’m fairly certain that I’d have remembered you.”

  A pink blush spread across the Reinhart woman’s cheeks and Avery was horrified. Oh lord, did that sound like I was flirting? However dangerously attractive Loralyn Baker’s great-niece may have been, all she’d meant to do was be polite, not give the appearance that she was trolling for dates at a funeral. Not that Cameron Reinhart gave off even the slightest hint of a lesbian vibe. The woman looked as straight as the crease on Avery’s slacks.

  “I mean,” Avery continued, clearing her throat, “I thought I knew everyone at Brooks County High. I don’t remember ever noticing you before.”

  Another blush and this time a tightening of those lush red lips.

  “I didn’t mean it that way, it’s just that…”

  “No, it’s quite all right,” Cam said, gesturing with the glass of tea. “I was a year behind you, so I’m sure I was beneath your notice.”

  Shit. Way to go, Avery—insult the girl. “Look, I didn’t mean it that way. I—”

  “Oh my God, it’s Barbie Blair!”

  Avery and Cam jumped in unison as a wave of lavender polka dots suddenly broke between them. Craning her neck over the shoulder of the tittering woman who’d nearly bowled her over, Avery saw a wide-eyed Cam recover her own balance, but not before a tidal wave of sweet tea splashed across her chest.

  What in the hell?

  Cam deposited the now-empty glass on the arm of the easy chair just in time for the polka-dotted woman to grab her by the hand. “You are Barbie Blair, aren’t you?” she asked, shaking Cam’s hand like she was mixing cocktails.

  Avery saw a smile light up Cam’s face before she delicately extricated her hand and took a step back. “Yes, yes I am,” she said, looking around the room while pulling the now-damp material of the black dress away from her skin.

  Sensing what Cam was in search of, Avery took a few steps over to the buffet table and returned with a small stack of napkins. She reached around the woman and handed them off to Cam, who in return mouthed a “thank you”.

  “Oh my goodness,” the woman exclaimed, “I’m just you’re biggest fan ever. I had no idea that you were related to Loralyn. Why, I don’t know how she could have kept that a secret for all these years!”

  Cam dabbed at her dress, glancing up occasionally to smile at the woman. “Oh, why—”

  “I thought you said your name was Cameron Reinhart,” Avery voiced the thought as it occurred to her, mindless of the interruption.

  Both women turned to stare at Avery.

  “It is,” Cam said, pausing to deposit the damp napkins beside the empty glass on the chair. “Barbie Blair is my professional name.”

  Avery let the words roll around her head for a moment, trying to determine what exactly Cam meant. Given the way she’d dressed for her great-aunt’s funeral… No, that couldn’t be what she’s saying… “Your professional name?”

  “Yes,” Cam nodded. “I’m on… I have…a television show.”

  “A television show?” Definitely not what she’d expected, but Avery had certainly heard stranger things.

  “Chasing Shadows is only the most popular TV show in America,” the polka-dotted woman said matter-of-factly and then seized Cam by the arm. “Oh my gosh…when you went to that hotel in Colorado and picked up the voice of that little girl on the EVP recorder…and then when that shadow crossed by the cellar window… Oh my goodness, I was at the edge of my seat the whole time.”

  Avery stared at the blithering woman for a long moment, before turning back to Cam. “Oh, um, okay.” She shrugged one shoulder. “I don’t really watch a lot of television.”

  Cam lifted an eyebrow. “You don’t watch television?”

  “No, not really. Just the occasional basketball game, and the news every now and then.”

  “The news every now and then…” Now it was Cam’s turn to mimic.

  “And basketball,” Avery added, feeling oddly uncomfortable as Cam’s narrowing eyes began to drill into her. Did I say something wrong?

  “Honey, there you are!” Mildred’s loud voice sounded from behind Avery as her grandmother charged over, Jane in tow. “I just wanted to say again what a nice funeral it was. Loralyn would have been so proud. I especially liked those doves there at the cemetery, even if that one did shit on Mary Tucker’s hat as it flew over.”

  Seriously? “Good lord, Grandma—”

  Cam shifted her full attention from Avery to Mildred. “Oh, I…”

  “Now never you mind,” Avery heard her grandmother say. “If Rutherford is goin
g to have those things flying around folks with their good clothes on, then he needs to train them better. Or maybe give them some little paper diapers. That’d be nice.”

  “Well, I believe…”

  “But listen, honey, I couldn’t help but notice you had a nice peach cobbler on the buffet table.”

  Cam nodded. “Yes, it was my great-aunt’s recipe,” she said, looking a little distracted.

  “That’s what I thought.” Mildred exchanged a quick glance with Jane before continuing, “If it’s not too much trouble, I’d like to get a little look at that recipe before I go. Loralyn promised me I could have it before she passed, don’t you know, but she never got around to it, her demise coming so unexpectedly and all.”

  Cam inclined her head. “My great-aunt had cancer. She was ill for several years.”

  “Yes, but she didn’t get bad till right there at the end, did she? Now if I could maybe follow you to the kitchen and you could find that recipe for me?”

  Oh, good Lord. “Grandmother,” Avery’s voice was forceful as she took Mildred by the wrist, “this probably isn’t the best time for this.”

  Mildred slipped out of Avery’s grip like a practiced criminal. “Oh, she doesn’t mind a bit, do you, hon?”

  “Well, I…”

  “Come along dear, it will just take a minute,” Mildred cooed, wrapping her arm around Cam’s.

  “Mrs. Smith!” The piercing voice echoed in the tiny room, and suddenly they were the center of attention. Cam pulled away from Mildred’s clutches. “My great-aunt left all her recipes to me,” she continued, eyes flashing, “and she advised me that I shouldn’t share them with anyone. She wanted them kept strictly in the family, and I don’t want to go against her wishes. I’m sure you understand.” In the little silence that fell down in the room, Cam straightened her dress and tossed her hair from her eyes. “Now if you’ll excuse me…” She swept away, headed for the back porch, a little buzz following in her wake.

  “Humph, get a load of that one,” Mildred sniffed, her eyes narrowing. “Against her great-aunt’s wishes, huh? She hopes I’ll understand, huh?” She whirled to look at Jane. “That girl doesn’t even cook, I’ll lay you a million to one odds. She’s just being a stubborn little bi—”

  “Grandmother,” Avery said sharply. “Let it go. You asked and she answered. That’s all you can do.”

  “The hell it is. I can…”

  “No,” Avery lowered her tone until it was near a growl. “I’ve put up with just about enough of this. Give me that plate and go to the car. Jane, you go too, while I find Ms. Reinhart and apologize.”

  Mildred’s mouth popped open like a fish and then, just as quickly she closed it. Eyes flashing, she muttered, “C’mon Jane,” and shuffled toward the front door, Jane following close behind.

  Avery waited until they had passed through before heading out the back in the direction she’d seen Cam go. She found her on the back porch, staring out into the yard.

  Avery cleared her throat to announce her approach. “I’m really sorry about all that.”

  Cam turned to look at Avery with tears sparkling on her eyelashes. “I always thought my aunt’s stories about Millie Smith were exaggerated.”

  Blowing out a breath, Avery nodded. “She can be a bit much, I admit.”

  “A bit much?” Cam laughed and threw a hand into the air. “The woman is a lunatic.”

  Avery frowned at the comment. “Now, let’s—”

  “I spoke to the funeral director today before the service after I noticed a tear in my aunt’s dress.” Cam’s voice had taken on an incendiary tone. “Mr. Millican was most apologetic and said it must have happened when your grandmother and her friend threw my aunt out of her casket.”

  Avery knew she shouldn’t be surprised that he’d filled in Cam about the events at the funeral home the night before, but still… Damn Rutherford Millican. “Thrown is a bit of a stretch. She fell out, yes, while they were paying their last respects.”

  “Oh?” The sound of Cam’s high heeled shoe tapping on the weathered wood of the porch rose steadily. “And how exactly does that happen, Avery? How does one fall out of one’s casket? Explain that to me.”

  Cam had the perfect right to be mad, Avery knew that, but everything about this conversation was rubbing her the wrong damn way. “Well, if Rutherford had secured the thing…”

  “Oh yes, let’s blame poor Mr. Millican. It’s all his fault. He should have known a bunch of old lunatics were going to be roughhousing around my aunt’s coffin.”

  There was that word again, lunatic. “Roughhousing? Have you seen them? I told you, one of them stumbled and fell.”

  “Oh please,” Cam snapped. “Give me a break. My aunt told me all about that woman, so I know how crazy she is.”

  That last remark flew all over her. Despite what Avery may have thought, or even said, in private, she wasn’t about to let this woman stand there and talk about Mildred that way. Her grandmother. The woman who’d practically raised her and who had been in her corner all her life. Sure, she could be a little eccentric…

  Avery realized she must have actually said that out loud because Cam suddenly gave a harsh bark of laughter.

  “Eccentric? Are you kidding?” Cam rumbled. “Bat shit crazy is more like it.”

  Avery tightened her lips and curled the fingers on one hand as she gave a curt nod. “You have my condolences, Ms. Reinhart, like I said. But I would thank you to keep your goddamn opinions about my grandmother to yourself in the future.” She turned on her heel, ignoring the little crowd that had gathered on the porch behind them.

  “Maybe I’ll do that, Avery Smith,” she heard Cam call out behind her. “And maybe you should go home and watch the news—or a basketball game!”

  Avery was tempted to turn back around and ask Cam what the hell that last comment had meant, but knew if she did, she’d end up saying something she’d probably regret later. Instead, she stalked toward the car, wanting nothing more than to go home, drink a beer, and put this stupid incident decently in the past where it belonged.

  Chapter Three

  “It’s not that easy, Shaye.”

  “Sure it is, Cam. Can’t your mother do some of this?”

  “No, I told you a few days ago, she’s off on that ridiculous cruise with her best friend. It took an act of congress just to get her on the phone to tell her about Loralyn’s passing. It’d be nearly impossible to get her back to do all this—and there’s no point when I can.”

  “Maybe you should just hire someone?”

  “I can’t just hire someone. There’s too much to be taken care of.”

  With a tired sigh, Cam plopped down into the easy chair that sat just in front of the bay window of Loralyn’s house. They’d been talking on the phone for the better part of an hour, most of which was spent with Shaye Lawson, the associate producer of her television show, trying to convince Cam how quickly she needed to wrap things up in Alabama and get back to work.

  “C’mon, Cam, we’re living in the twenty-first century. There are people for everything. You get somebody to pack up the house, then contact a broker to put the house on the market. Surely even a place as backwards as Hickville has some sort of company that specializes in estates.”

  “But that’s just it, Shaye, Loralyn has…had family.” Cam leaned back into the oversized cushions of the chair and found her eyes drawn to the antique hutch on the other side of the small living room. Rows of picture frames lined its maple shelves. Relatives from generations past—some in color, some in black and white—stared back at her in judgmental silence, as if mindful of all the times Loralyn had invited Cam to come visit, all the excuses she’d made as to why she was too busy. “I can’t just let some stranger do this. I owe at least this much to her.”

  Cam’s statement was met with silence. She’d worked with Shaye long enough to know that she was seldom at a loss for words, so she imagined the woman was mentally running down the final list of reasons that
Cam needed to return to production.

  “Tell me that, at the very least,” Shaye said finally, her resignation clear, “Hickville has some place to get a decent cup of coffee.”

  Smiling at her little victory, Cam shifted the phone from one ear to the other. “The name of the town is Bethel Springs, and, as a matter of fact, there’s a Starbucks counter inside the new grocery store downtown.”

  “Well, yee-haw. Just promise you’ll try to be quick about wrapping things up?”

  “I promise,” Cam chirped and then quickly disconnected the call before Shaye had the chance to second-guess her decision. Setting her cell phone on the arm of the chair, Cam rose and took a moment to stretch her arms over her head. The last three days had been a veritable whirlwind, and she could feel it all catching up with her. She rolled one shoulder and tilted her neck until she felt it give a satisfying pop. Cam shook off the fatigue, telling herself she could rest on the plane ride back to California. For now, there was work to be done.

  At least she wouldn’t have to do it alone. Jennifer Douglas from high school—Jennifer Morris now—was due to drop in at any time. Jennifer had called late yesterday evening to offer her condolences on Loralyn’s passing and apologize for missing the funeral, a financial conference having kept her away. After catching up on the past for nearly an hour, Jennifer had offered to come by the house and help pack boxes. Cam would have accepted the offer even if it hadn’t come with a promise to bring a bottle of wine to pair with the mountains of leftover casseroles taking up space in the refrigerator.

  Guess she’s running as late as I am this morning, Cam thought after a quick glance at her watch.

  Deciding to go ahead and get started on her own, Cam took a step toward the dining room and the conglomeration of cardboard moving boxes that waited there. Despite what she’d said to Shaye, the thought of boxing up the various and sundry pieces of Loralyn’s life was more than a bit daunting.

  Cam’s original intention had been to “wrap things up,” as Shaye had said, quickly and then get back to her busy work schedule. As the lead paranormal investigator on Chasing Shadows, the show literally could not go on without her.