If You've Got It, Haunt It Page 12

  “How’s this?” I asked Charlotte as I gestured at my ensemble.

  She marched toward the door. “Perfect. Now come on. You’re taking way too long.” She motioned over her shoulder.

  “But you didn’t even look at me,” I said as I opened the cat carrier for Wind Song to hop in. As usual, the feisty feline seemed to relish the chance to travel. I’d have to ask Heather if she thought Wind Song might be a reincarnation of Marco Polo.

  I locked the front door and looked up and down the street before I stepped over to my car. Charlotte was already sitting in the front seat. She never wore a seat belt, but I guessed it didn’t matter.

  I placed Wind Song’s carrier in the backseat and practically ran to the driver’s side door. After the threatening blog post, I’d become more aware of my surroundings. Cotton clouds dotted the stunning blue sky. A whiff of gardenia from a nearby pot tickled my nose.

  “Why are your heels on fire?” I asked, shoving the keys into the ignition.

  “You’d be in a hurry, too, if you were dead and trying to find your killer,” Charlotte said.

  “I’m not sure what that has to do with anything,” I said.

  “Never mind. Just start the car and drive.” She pointed toward the road.

  Traffic was thin and we rode in silence for a couple minutes, but unfortunately that didn’t last. In front of a house next to a red light, a woman saw her husband off to work with a light kiss on his cheek.

  “Look at that. How sweet,” Charlotte commented. “Why don’t you have a boyfriend?”

  “This town isn’t exactly crawling with bachelors,” I said, not wanting to talk about my break-up with Clark last year. His two-timing tomcat ways were still a sore subject. I couldn’t believe I’d fallen for his glib line of excuses.

  “So you don’t have any family in Sugar Creek.”

  My hands gripped the steering wheel a little tighter. “Oh, I have plenty of family around. So many cousins that I’ve lost count. I was an only child, though. My parents moved to the beach.”

  Charlotte focused her attention on the road in front of us. “You and I are a lot alike.”

  The little voice in my head was screaming at me not to ask why, but so help me, I had to ask. “Why are we a lot alike? Am I that cranky?”

  “We are strong independent women.” Charlotte flashed a knowing grin.

  Did she just pay me a compliment?

  After we dropped Wind Song off at the shop, Charlotte gave me driving directions to the address that was first on our list. We were paying a visit to her former boyfriend, Bud Butler. As we drove through a well-kept residential neighborhood, the sun spilled brightness over the area, making the green on the trees and colors from the flowers pop.

  We pulled up to the small charming ranch-style brick home. There were no flowers and not a lot of landscaping in front of the home, but the lawn looked like a putting green. I was surprised. I’d figured Charlotte would date someone who had a home equally as massive as hers. It was good to see that she wasn’t dating Bud for his money. Not that she needed any, but I liked the idea of dating for love and not for the material possessions that the other person owned, although having a job or some kind of career goal was a must.

  Parking along the street curb, I shifted the car into neutral and set the brake.

  “I’m not sure what I will say to this man. It’s going to be very awkward,” I said, peering up at the house.

  Charlotte touched her hair to make sure every strand was in place. “He’s very friendly. I’m sure he will talk to you. How’s my lipstick?” She puckered her lips. “Never mind. You don’t have to answer that. I forgot it stays perfect. This is the first time I’ve seen him since . . . well, since I was murdered. I heard he was so upset that he couldn’t even attend the funeral.” She couldn’t disguise the sadness in her voice.

  “That’s terrible, Charlotte. I’m very sorry. I hope he’s feeling better.”

  “I don’t. I want him to miss me.”

  “Charlotte, you want him to go on with his life, don’t you?” I asked.

  “Have you gone on with your life after the breakup with your ex? You should be dating.”

  My stomach sank. “Of course I have.”

  “Not completely and totally. You’re not dating. And I bet you don’t trust men,” she said.

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  She continued to stare, so I said, “Everyone deals with breakups differently.” I hopped out of the car, ready to change the subject.

  “Now when we get inside, just ask the questions that I tell you,” Charlotte said, matching my stride

  “Is this my investigation or yours?” I asked.

  She glided over to the path leading to the front door. “I know him and I know what to ask, so trust me with this, okay?”

  “If you say so.”

  I’d agree with Charlotte, then do whatever I wanted when I got inside. After ringing the doorbell, I shifted from one foot to the other, trying to get rid of nervous energy. I had no idea what I was going to say to the man. Oh, by the way, did you murder your girlfriend? That wouldn’t leave a great first impression with him.

  The garage door was down, so I couldn’t tell if his car was inside. “I don’t think he’s here,” I said after a few seconds.

  “Ring the bell again,” she urged.

  “Why don’t you just go inside and see if he’s there.” I motioned toward the house with a tilt of my head. “He can’t accuse you of breaking and entering, because he won’t be able to see you.”

  Charlotte sat on the porch step. “No, I don’t want to do that. After all, I am a Southern lady. I’ll stay out here.”

  I scowled. “Oh, really? Were you a Southern lady when you peeked at Detective Valentine in the dressing room?”

  “That was different. I didn’t know him. Spying on a stranger is different from invading the privacy of a friend.”

  Her logic evaded me, but I didn’t want to argue. “Whatever.”

  I did as I was told and rang the doorbell again. Just as I was about to insist on leaving, I heard the clicking of the lock from the other side of the door.

  I looked at Charlotte in surprise. “I guess he’s home after all.”

  She twisted her hands.

  Why was she so nervous about seeing him again?

  Bud was a tall, outdoorsy-looking man with a weathered face and pleasant laugh lines around his mouth and eyes. Gray hair sprinkled the temples of his dark hair. When he opened the door his eyebrows shot up. “Well, hello there. What can I do for you? It’s not every day that a pretty lady shows up at my door.” He smiled, flashing his intensely white teeth.

  “I forgot to tell you that he is a huge flirt,” Charlotte offered.

  Now she told me. Bud Butler was exactly how I’d pictured him in my mind. His brown trousers had precise seams pressed down the front and the rolled-up sleeves of his white shirt exposed his tan forearms.

  “Hello, my name is Cookie Chanel. I own the vintage clothing shop on Main Street. Maybe you’ve seen it—It’s Vintage, Y’all?” He looked blank, so I hurried on. “I’m sorry for bothering you, but I’d like to talk to you about Charlotte Meadows. She was a friend of my grandmother’s, and I was told that you were a friend of hers, as well. Could I talk to you about her?”

  His expression faltered, but then he smiled again.

  “See, I told you he was a nice guy,” Charlotte said.

  “Yes, I knew Charlotte well,” Bud said. “She was a wonderful woman.”

  Charlotte let out a little giggle. “He has good taste.”

  “What do you need to know?” He looked me up and down, taking in every inch of my appearance. “You know, you dress a lot like Charlotte used to.”

  “I got my love of vintage clothing from my grandmother. She used to love to go shopping in Charleston with Charlotte. She always said Charlotte had the best eye for fashion.”

  Charlotte tapped her foot. “Come on, get to the
point. Ask him if he’s talked to the police.”

  Before I could say anything else, Bud opened the door wider and said, “Well, any friend of Charlotte’s is a friend of mine. Same goes for any granddaughter of a friend of Charlotte’s. Would you like to come inside for iced tea?”

  I looked over my shoulder at Charlotte as she inched up behind me. Bud probably wondered what I was looking at.

  “Yes, I’d like that. Thank you.” I stepped inside the entrance to the foyer.

  On the right was a small living room sparsely decorated in shades of blue and brown, but uncluttered and orderly. Knickknacks lined up like flea market trophies on the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves.

  “He’s a neat freak,” Charlotte said.

  Bud gestured toward the sofa and I sat on the edge.

  “I’ll get that tea and be right back,” he said with a huge smile.

  Charlotte followed him into the kitchen, leaving me alone in the living room. And she’d acted as if she wasn’t even going into his house. I knew she wouldn’t be able to resist once she saw him again.

  I looked around at the photos on the side table. The images were all of Bud in various recreational activities—boating, skiing, and fishing. I assumed he had friends, so why were they not in the pictures with him? Why didn’t he have a photo of Charlotte on the table?

  I heard the refrigerator door open and close, the rattle of ice cubes tossed into glasses, and then he stepped back into the room. His eyebrows drew together in a frown and he spun around when Charlotte attempted to pinch him in the rear. Thank goodness she hadn’t successfully made that move when I was near him. He would have thought I was making a pass at him.

  He faced me again and chuckled. “I thought my pants caught on something.”

  Bud handed me an iced tea in a frosted beer mug. A nice manly touch, I thought. He’d even added a wedge of lemon on the edge of the glass. I took a sip and puckered my lips. It was so sweet that it must have contained a pound of sugar.

  “So what do you want to ask me?” He sat on the sofa next to me, apparently feeling that his charm made him irresistible.

  A chair was across from the sofa. Why did he have to sit so close?

  I scooted away from him as far as I could. “I’m trying to make sense of what happened to Charlotte.” She snorted, but I continued. “It’s so upsetting. Who could do such a thing?”

  “Oh, you were close? She never mentioned you.” Bud patted my hand.

  I moved my hand away from his touch. “Yes, we were friends. Um, she liked to stop by my vintage boutique in town.”

  I hoped Charlotte was listening. I wasn’t happy that she’d never come into my shop.

  “Well, that makes sense. I never really understood her fascination with clothing,” he said.

  Charlotte sat on the leather recliner in the corner, crossing her legs and placing her hands in her lap. “He never wanted me to dress him, either. I guess you can see why he needed my help.”

  I glanced over at his clothing. Actually, his casual attire seemed just fine to me.

  “Do you like the photos of me?” Bud leaned over, stretching his body across mine, and picked up the photo of him on the beach.

  I leaned back until he straightened up away from me.

  “What do you think of my abs? Pretty good shape for an old guy, huh?” he said with a smile.

  I looked at Charlotte, who had a scowl on her face. She muttered, “What does she care if you’re in good shape?”

  I was growing more uncomfortable by the moment. “Yes, you look very fit. Anyway, back to the topic. Do you know who would have done such a terrible thing to Charlotte?” I pressed.

  He took a drink of his tea. “She had a lot of business affairs. I suspect it had something to do with that.”

  “Ask him about the police,” Charlotte instructed.

  “Have you talked with the police?” I asked, to appease her.

  “Yes, I spoke with them. They had the nerve to question me about where I’d been on the night of her murder.”

  “And what did you tell them?” I asked.

  He avoided answering. “Did you see the photo of me doing my karate?” He reached toward another picture frame.

  Before he could lean across me again, I jumped up from the sofa and placed the glass of tea on the table. “Well, thank you for the hospitality. I just remembered I have an appointment.”

  Bud stood and moved closer to me. He wiggled his eyebrows as he leaned down. “How about we grab something to eat? Do you like seafood? Bubba’s has fresh oysters brought in every day.” He had been a complete schmuck without even realizing it.

  “I’m not hungry.” Dashing across the room, I grabbed the doorknob.

  “Well, don’t leave mad. I didn’t mean any offense. I was just trying to be nice,” he said.

  Charlotte shook her fist at him. “Bud Butler, I can’t believe you.”

  I glanced back at him. When he wiggled his eyebrows again, I’d had enough. I yanked the door open and took off down the sidewalk toward my car. Halfway down the front path I stumbled on the uneven flagstones, but righted myself before I fell.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted Charlotte stomping along beside me. “I can’t believe you dated this guy,” I whispered.

  “Obviously, good men are hard to find,” she said in disgust.

  Didn’t I know it.

  I jumped in the car, feeling bad for her. She’d obviously liked the guy. “I’m sorry, Charlotte.”

  “I can’t believe that jerk. Why did I ever date such a snake? And why couldn’t I realize what a skirt-chaser he was?”

  “Don’t blame yourself,” I offered as I turned the ignition. “It’s not your fault he’s a rat.”

  Bud was standing at the front door with his arms up like he was shocked that I’d taken off.

  I was glad that I had a full day of work ahead to make me forget about talking with that polecat. Could he be the killer? He didn’t seem too concerned about what had happened to Charlotte. All he’d wanted to talk about was himself.

  “Bud was always talking and joking with other women.” Tension tightened Charlotte’s face. “I always thought he was just outgoing. I thought it was innocent. Now I know the truth.” She looked at me from the passenger seat. “Do you think he could have killed me?” Her expression grew bleak.

  As I pulled out onto the street, I said, “I don’t know, Charlotte. I’d like to think it wasn’t possible, but I just don’t know.”

  Chapter 19

  Cookie’s Savvy Vintage Fashion Shopping Tip

  Don’t forget to check with family members

  when looking for clothing.

  A great aunt or grandmother could have beautiful

  garments just sitting in a closet waiting for you.

  Two hours had passed since the last customer had exited the shop without buying anything. I was sitting behind the counter watching Wind Song as she slept in the sunshine. Her tail wagged even though her eyes were shut. I had a feeling she knew that I was watching her. The cat had an uncanny ability to understand what was going on around her.

  Charlotte popped up beside me. After the visit to Bud, she’d been quiet all day. I couldn’t say that I blamed her.

  “I promised that I’d help you with marketing, so how about we get started?” Even though she was upset, she was keeping her promise of helping me write up an ad for the shop. She could have easily put it off, but she was forging ahead.

  I folded a Jimi Hendrix T-shirt. “I suppose that would be good.” I kept a stock of vintage rock star tees to attract younger customers to the shop.

  If Charlotte had been alive she would have worn a path in the floor in front of the counter. “You definitely need to start online sales, too. We can find a simple website that allows you to add the BUY feature to your site and helps you accept payments, too.” She eased down on the settee. “Plus, we need to work on the design of your website.”

  I looked at the computer screen. My
website was simple—white with a logo of a pink fifties dress at the top. I’d figured the clean layout would be a breeze for customers to navigate. “What’s wrong with my site?”

  She shook her head. “It’s not flashy enough.”

  I adjusted the computer screen for a better look then placed my hands on my hips and glared at her.

  “Don’t just stand there with your mouth open. Grab a pen and paper and write this stuff down. I’ll expect you to do what I tell you to.” She pushed to her feet. “I’ll harass you in the middle of the night if you don’t.”

  I knew she would, so I grabbed the pen and paper.

  Charlotte stood beside me. “We’ll do the ad first. Write this down. Find timeless fashion at It’s Vintage Y’all. Styles from the twenties through the nineties. One of a kind, just like you.”

  After telling me what to write on the newspaper ad, she gave me the name of sites where I could set up a better page for the shop.

  I didn’t know how I’d missed the bell on the door jingle, but apparently I had. When I looked up, Detective Valentine was standing in front of me with the strangest look on his face.

  I couldn’t tell how long he’d been standing there listening to me talk with Charlotte.

  Since she was invisible and inaudible to everyone but me, he must have figured I was insane. Not only would he think I was involved in her murder, but that I was nuts, too. On top of that, it was hard to ignore how handsome he looked in his black pants and white dress shirt.

  He looked around to see who I was talking to. Unfortunately, I had no one to save me. But then I remembered Wind Song. Thank goodness for my fabulous feline friend.

  I chuckled. “I guess you’re wondering who I was talking to.”

  He attempted a smile and held up his hands. “Hey, it’s none of my business.”

  “I was talking to the cat.”

  As if on cue, Wind Song leaped onto the counter and rubbed her head against my hand. It was as if she’d come to my rescue. She’d definitely get an extra treat for that.

  A smile spread across Dylan’s face. “What a beautiful cat.” He reached out and rubbed her head.