Summer Reading is Killing Me (Phee Jefferson Book 2) (5 page)

CHAPTER ELEVEN

I waddled out to Velma. Watson panted with
excitement at the prospect of going for a ride. My guilt over criticizing Mom’s
healthy pancakes made me eat two servings. I felt like an overripe blueberry
ready to burst. I heaved myself into the van and vowed to try one of Juliet’s
wacky cleansing juice fasts the next day to recover.

I decided to check out all the hoopla with the
press. As I turned on to
Oakwyn
Street by Longfellow
Park, I slowed Velma to a crawl. Juliet hadn’t exaggerated. There wasn’t one
parking spot as far as I could see. News vans with station logos and mini
satellite dishes on top and cars with out-of-state tags littered the side
streets around the park. One enterprising soul even parked their van on the
sidewalk. I pulled into a space a few blocks from the entrance. After clipping
a leash on Watson, I walked over to a gaggle of paparazzi pushing and craning
their necks to get a view of the crime scene. A microphone was set up in the
band shell. Sheriff Dawes stood talking in close quarters with a red-haired man
in an expensive suit. Behind them stood Senator Campbell and a young,
pony-tailed guy who had to be Jay Burns. Senator Campbell ignored Jay as he
surveyed the jostling crowd of reporters. Clearly, there was no love lost between
the Senator and his daughter’s wayward boyfriend.

The sheriff stepped to the microphone and tapped
it with his finger. “Is this thing on?” The speakers let out a high-pitched
squeal. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Ladies and gentlemen, I’ll read
a short statement before turning this over to Senator Campbell. We won’t field
questions from the press today. The body of
Elody
Campbell, daughter of Senator Richard Campbell, was discovered early yesterday
morning here in Longfellow Park. Miss Campbell was the victim of foul play and
the Miller’s Cove Sheriff’s Department is working around the clock to solve
this heinous crime. Preliminary results from the autopsy indicate an unknown
suspect shot her at close range with a .22 caliber weapon. We’re in the early
stages of the investigation and pursuing several lines of inquiry. Now I’ll
turn things over to Senator Campbell’s aide, Anthony
Ziegfried
.”

“Sheriff Dawes! Who discovered the body?” A female
reporter shouted.

“Again, no questions. Mr.
Ziegfried
will give a brief statement.” Sheriff Dawes mouth was a hard line brooking no
argument. He stepped back from the microphone, and the red-haired man in the
suit stepped forward. “The Senator, his family and friends are saddened and
shocked by
Elody’s
murder.
Elody
was the light of the Senator’s life and a bright beacon of talent and hope has
been extinguished too soon. The Senator lost his beloved wife, Patsy, three
years ago to cancer. Now, his only child has been brutally murdered. The
Senator plans to examine our current gun laws and fight to make our state safer
for our children. He is offering a $50,000 reward to information leading to the
capture and conviction of the individual who killed
Elody
.”
A sob rang out from the stage. Jay Burns buried his face in his hands. He
cried, letting out loud donkey brays of anguish. Senator Campbell shot him a
disgusted glare and stepped to the microphone.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I will do everything in my
power to find the person who did this to my beautiful daughter. I won’t stop
until I make sure that every citizen in this fine state of ours is guaranteed a
safe home free from crime. Please allow me the opportunity to mourn in private.
There is a candlelight vigil for
Elody
here tonight.
It’s open to the press and public. A funeral for family and close friends will
take place in my hometown at a later date.” He stepped back from the
microphone. After giving a curt nod to the sheriff, he strode off the stage.
Anthony
Ziegfried
galloped after him.

“Well, that was a load of crap if I ever heard
it,” a voice drawled next to me. I turned and saw a young woman with multiple
facial piercings and dreadlocks glaring at the retreating Senator’s back.

“Pardon?” I said.

“It’s baloney. I can’t believe the Senator used
Elody’s
murder for his campaign platform. He cut her off
without a dime because she went a little wild after her mom died. And Jay Burns
gets the Horse Hockey of the Year award. He’s crying and carrying on about
Elody
, but every time she turned her back, he cozied up to
other women.” She gave a disgusted snort. “The only thing they got right was
she was beautiful and too young to die.”

“Sorry, but I didn’t catch your name. Mine’s
Phee
. You and
Elody
were
friends?” I asked while gaging if this girl was a crackpot fan of the
quasi-famous or an actual friend.

“Sorry. I’m Willow. I met her about a month ago
when she came to our artist’s retreat, but we had a real connection. I mean,
like, I understood that her spirit felt harmed by all the negativity from the
press, her dad, her loser boyfriend…from everyone. She was getting to a good
place here. Really getting in touch with her inner awesomeness as a child of
Mother Earth.” Willow touched a large stone she wore on a silver chain around
her neck to her lips and raised it to the sky.

“Okay,” I said slowly. I was dealing with a little
package of crazy here. “So you’re an artist, too?”

“I help the artists channel their creative vibe -
a conduit between the earth, the sky and their artistic soul. I cleanse their
auras so their art can be pure.”

“For real?” I asked not masking my disbelief. “How
do you do that?” Juliet would eat this chick up and take her home to be her new
roomie if they ever met.

“You don’t believe me?” Willow gave me a pitying
look. “You experienced great strife in the past year. A dark spirit hovers near
you stealing your light. Focus on you and stop giving away all your energy to
everyone else.”

I gave her a wide-eyed stare of amazement. Maybe
she could read my aura. Getting whacked in the head with a shovel by a crazed
matchmaking mama counted as strife. I gathered my courage to ask her how to
cleanse the darkness, but Juliet bounded up to us and interrupted.

“Hey,
Phee
. I see you’ve
met Willow. Isn’t she awesome?” Juliet burbled. She reached down and gave Watson
a friendly scratch behind his ears. I should have realized Juliet and Willow
were friends. They both spouted the same New Age woo
woo
feel good words.

“She’s something else,” I commented dryly. Now I
understood why Willow saw strife in my aura. Juliet told her all about her big
sister
Phee
and her near-death experience. “Did you
realize Willow was friends with
Elody
?”

“Sure! We met this morning when we were both
fighting the mad mob to get coffee. I forgot to tell you about it. Willow, I
guess you figured out this was my sister.”

“Yeah. I just read her aura. You didn’t tell me
she had a dark smudge on it. You and I should put our collective spirits
together to heal her.” Willow turned to me and said, “If you want us to do it.
The spirits guide me to heal, but not everyone accepts the spirits’ gifts.”

“I’ll consider it. I’m a down-to-earth girl, and I
don’t know if I believe in auras, tarot cards and spirits. No offense.”

“No problem. So,
Juls
,
I’ll see you at yoga tomorrow morning. It’s righteous of you to offer the
class. The spirits appreciate your gift. Glad to meet a fellow yogi. Peace.”
Willow walked away with her long purple skirt swirling around her ankles.

“I am so excited I met someone who cleanses
auras!” Juliet exclaimed doing a jig of joy.

“Me, too,” I responded not bothering to mask my
sarcasm. “Just what I need. Two hippie dippy chicks in my life. Did you hear
Jaime say
Elody
was shot? I knew there was something
fishy about that paintbrush buried in her chest. The killer wanted to mislead
the police or destroy evidence. Maybe whoever killed her is a crazed person
making an artistic statement. A fellow artist from the retreat in a fit of
jealousy shot her then made her his final masterpiece.”

“You’re flinging out crazy theories again,
Phee
. They say I’m the flighty, imaginative sister? Ha! Did
you see Jay Burns crying and creating a big scene? We should come for the
memorial service tonight. We can dig up some dirt. We might even weasel
information out of Jay. Are you in?” Juliet asked.

“Like Flynn. Meet me at my house and we’ll walk
over. Parking will be a nightmare with the hyenas sniffing around for a news
story.”

“Later alligator.”

“After a while, crocodile,” I shot back as Watson
and I headed for home and a little more online snooping.

CHAPTER Twelve

I went home and fed
Ferdie
and Watson. I needed cat food for
Ferdie
and heaven
forbid his pantry ever ran low. It was a glorious summer day, so I hopped on my
vintage turquoise Schwinn with the cute basket on the front and biked downtown.
Most stores in Miller’s Cove stayed closed on Sunday, but Abe’s Supermarket
opened at noon. Baskets sat inside the front door, so I grabbed one and headed
for the pet food aisle. As I made my way past the fresh fruits and vegetables,
I spotted a woman who resembled the pictures I saw last night of Tessa Brewer
yakking on her cell phone. Ambling by the bananas, I perused the produce to get
a closer look.

“I tell you, Amber, I’m stuck in the backwoods of
hell,” the woman complained to someone on the other end of the line. “Ask for
sushi and they stare at you like you grew a second head. The guy at the dive
diner where I ate lunch brought me a fried fish sandwich. I got up and walked
out without paying. I can’t wait to return to civilization. After this week,
I’m treating myself to a day at the spa.”

I couldn’t hear what the other person was saying,
but I moved closer and gave a side glance at the woman on the phone –
definitely Tessa Brewer. Her online photo didn’t do her justice. An attractive
brunette, she was short with a slim, athletic build. If I wasn’t mistaken, she
wore a dress by Coco Chanel . I might not be fashion savvy, but I recognized a
classic when I saw it. Unfortunately, I can’t afford designer anything on my
librarian’s salary. I never realized reporters made the kind of money Tessa
must have to afford her wardrobe. Besides the Chanel suit, she sported a Louis
Vuitton bag on her arm.

“Amber, you should see all these idiots crying
over
Elody
. I guarantee none of them ever met her.
Just a bunch of star-crushers hoping to get their picture in the gossip
columns. Mark my words.
Elody
Campbell’s murder will
push me into the big leagues. No more running around after self-centered, vapid
trust fund babies. If I play my cards right, I’ll land a sweet deal at the
Times.
Might even snare the crime beat.” Tessa pushed her shopping cart over to the
tomatoes. She picked them up and inspected them one at a time. “I’ll talk to
you later. I need to find some local yokel to track down a real tomato.” She
closed her phone and dropped it into her bag.

“Excuse me. Do you work here?” Tessa said to me.

“No. Why? Is there something you need help with? I
can go grab Abe. He owns the market and is running around somewhere,” I offered.
I grabbed a head of lettuce to disguise the fact I’d been spying on her.

“I want a decent tomato, not this crap they’re
selling. Where are the organic, heirloom tomatoes?” Tessa slammed the tomato
she held on the bin splitting the skin. Juice and seeds shot out and spotted
her dress. “That’s just great! I give up. I don’t understand how you people
live without the basic amenities. Might as well be pioneers.” She left her cart
and marched out of the market in a huff.

“That woman is a pain in my you know what,” Abe
said from behind me. “I was right around the corner, but there was no way I
wanted to come out and talk to her. She came in here yesterday evening wanting
some kind of weird fruit. She claimed she ate one every morning for breakfast,
but they didn’t serve it at the B&B. When I told her I’d never even heard
of it let alone sold it, she complained about backwoods and hillbillies.” Abe
picked up the squashed tomato. His grizzled beard bristled in outrage. Abe
inherited the market from his dad, Abe Sr., twenty years before I was born.
This market was the cornerstone of our small village, and we loved Abe and his
wife, Shannon. Tessa Brewer was a bully.

“Well, I like your tomatoes just fine. They’re
perfect for the salad I’m fixing tomorrow.” I grabbed several and put them in
my basket. Feeling guilty over Tessa’s behavior, I picked up five more. I’d
give some to Mrs. Lassiter, my next door neighbor.  

“You’re a peach,
Phee
.
Folks like that have something broken in them making them act like a horse’s
behind to the rest of us.” Abe turned away to finish cleaning up the mess. I
returned to my quest for
Ferdie’s
kibbles.

When I arrived home twenty minutes later, I set a
few tomatoes on the windowsill to ripen.
Ferdie
sensed it was all about him in the grocery bags. I swear he could smell cat
food from a mile away. He’d weigh a hundred pounds if I wasn’t in control of
his diet. I placed an open brown sack onto the floor and he squeezed his fat
rear in and lay down. His tail twitched against the side and made the bag
rattle.
Ferdie
loved his hidey-holes.

I made myself a glass of tea and decided to find
out more about Tessa Brewer. Maybe she had a rich husband or family to fund her
expensive wardrobe. I opened a browser and searched for her name. Thousands of
hits populated my screen. Scrolling through them, I saw most were from her
byline as a reporter. I cleared my search and went to my library’s website. I
clicked our online database link and searched for Tessa Brewer and excluded her
gossip column and recent items. Bingo! Librarians are the smarter more
efficient search engine.

I clicked on an article from fifteen years ago.
Tessa looked to be my age, so she was a teenager when this was written. It came
from a small newspaper published somewhere in Arkansas. I read through the
article and when I finished, I whistled in surprise. Tessa Brewer had certainly
recreated herself if what I read was true.