Read Online Murder for a Rainy Day (Pecan Bayou Book 6) by Teresa Trent - Free Book Online
Authors: Teresa Trent
Ads: Link
grade before puberty hit.
Vanessa had been a chick-lit writer who wrote under the pen name Vanessa Scarlet. She and I had never been friends and made the tongues of Pecan Bayou wag once when we had a shouting match in the mall. I remember the day I found her body in the children’s section of our local public library. She now stood as Martha Hoffman had, also scowling at me. Even in the afterlife, she didn't like me.
Vanessa wore a white closely fitted pant suit that was probably a size 0, along with a pair of white stiletto heels. Her blond hair was pulled back into a chignon with a few strands flowing around her face. She looked beautiful, and I envied her tiny waist. One good thing about Heaven—no calories. As mean as she was to me, I was a little surprised she was in white at all.
"Why are you here?"
"So, yeah. You figured out who my killer was. I guess I should thank you for that." She gave me a perfunctory smile, as if she’d just put money in the poor box at church.
"Okay."
"You never know about things that are hidden. Everyone has little cracks in them somewhere…just waiting to be discovered."
"Sure."
"That baby already has more style than you ever will."
"Even from the other side, you continue to criticize."
"Some things you don't lose. Of course that extra twenty you've put on is another story…"
Vanessa started to fade as I felt my back starting to ache. I straightened up in the chair, putting my feet on the floor. That was the third strange dream I had experienced in this chair. Maybe I needed a different chair in this room.
I was beginning to feel like Ebenezer Scrooge, but with really rude ghosts. It was nice of Vanessa to thank me even if she probably didn't mean it. I thought about the feeling of her presence. It wasn't like watching a movie—I could see and feel the shape of her. She was so real and so annoying, I shook my head to be rid of her.
I had heard about pregnant women dreaming, but never really experienced anything until now. Why would I be dreaming about murder victims? Wasn't I supposed to be dreaming of walking with the baby in a field of flowers or something? Shouldn't everything be all in soft pastels with Mozart playing gently in the background? My dream visitors felt more like a midnight break-in than a fantasy. I pulled myself up from the chair and glanced at the time. I had been sleeping for over two hours. Shouldn't Leo have called by now? Had he flown into the hurricane yet? It was late in the afternoon, and hopefully he was on the ground and heading back for Pecan Bayou.
Trying not to panic, I called him for a change.
When he answered on the second ring, I was felt a flood of relief that the whole hurricane hunter thing was over, and he was back in contact. "How are you doing, Leo?"
"Are you in labor? I can be there in twenty minutes."
"Leo…"
"I put your to-go bag by the door."
"Leo…"
"Is your cell phone charged?"
"Leo. I'm not having the baby. I just called to check in."
"Oh, sorry. I got busy and forgot to call."
"I noticed. You usually wake me up from my nap and I ended up sleeping a couple of hours."
"That's great, Bets. Just what you should be doing right now. I’m headed home. Hitting some scattered showers, but it shouldn’t slow me down too much."
"I’m so glad to hear that. Did you hear the cow was stolen from in front of the Cattleman's Call today?"
His voice took on an added Texas drawl. "What's that you say little lady? Cattle rustlers attacked the one cow herd in front of the steakhouse?" I laughed, resisting the urge to pee. Another bonus of pregnancy.
"Oh, we think it's funny, but the new owner Lonnie Carello is furious. He's sure that losing that plastic cow is the end of his business."
"Well, you never know what triggers a craving for a juicy ribeye. As a matter fact, I could use a big fat steak right now."
"When was the last time you ate something?" I had been so obsessed with my own stomach I didn't think about Leo and his
Vanessa had been a chick-lit writer who wrote under the pen name Vanessa Scarlet. She and I had never been friends and made the tongues of Pecan Bayou wag once when we had a shouting match in the mall. I remember the day I found her body in the children’s section of our local public library. She now stood as Martha Hoffman had, also scowling at me. Even in the afterlife, she didn't like me.
Vanessa wore a white closely fitted pant suit that was probably a size 0, along with a pair of white stiletto heels. Her blond hair was pulled back into a chignon with a few strands flowing around her face. She looked beautiful, and I envied her tiny waist. One good thing about Heaven—no calories. As mean as she was to me, I was a little surprised she was in white at all.
"Why are you here?"
"So, yeah. You figured out who my killer was. I guess I should thank you for that." She gave me a perfunctory smile, as if she’d just put money in the poor box at church.
"Okay."
"You never know about things that are hidden. Everyone has little cracks in them somewhere…just waiting to be discovered."
"Sure."
"That baby already has more style than you ever will."
"Even from the other side, you continue to criticize."
"Some things you don't lose. Of course that extra twenty you've put on is another story…"
Vanessa started to fade as I felt my back starting to ache. I straightened up in the chair, putting my feet on the floor. That was the third strange dream I had experienced in this chair. Maybe I needed a different chair in this room.
I was beginning to feel like Ebenezer Scrooge, but with really rude ghosts. It was nice of Vanessa to thank me even if she probably didn't mean it. I thought about the feeling of her presence. It wasn't like watching a movie—I could see and feel the shape of her. She was so real and so annoying, I shook my head to be rid of her.
I had heard about pregnant women dreaming, but never really experienced anything until now. Why would I be dreaming about murder victims? Wasn't I supposed to be dreaming of walking with the baby in a field of flowers or something? Shouldn't everything be all in soft pastels with Mozart playing gently in the background? My dream visitors felt more like a midnight break-in than a fantasy. I pulled myself up from the chair and glanced at the time. I had been sleeping for over two hours. Shouldn't Leo have called by now? Had he flown into the hurricane yet? It was late in the afternoon, and hopefully he was on the ground and heading back for Pecan Bayou.
Trying not to panic, I called him for a change.
When he answered on the second ring, I was felt a flood of relief that the whole hurricane hunter thing was over, and he was back in contact. "How are you doing, Leo?"
"Are you in labor? I can be there in twenty minutes."
"Leo…"
"I put your to-go bag by the door."
"Leo…"
"Is your cell phone charged?"
"Leo. I'm not having the baby. I just called to check in."
"Oh, sorry. I got busy and forgot to call."
"I noticed. You usually wake me up from my nap and I ended up sleeping a couple of hours."
"That's great, Bets. Just what you should be doing right now. I’m headed home. Hitting some scattered showers, but it shouldn’t slow me down too much."
"I’m so glad to hear that. Did you hear the cow was stolen from in front of the Cattleman's Call today?"
His voice took on an added Texas drawl. "What's that you say little lady? Cattle rustlers attacked the one cow herd in front of the steakhouse?" I laughed, resisting the urge to pee. Another bonus of pregnancy.
"Oh, we think it's funny, but the new owner Lonnie Carello is furious. He's sure that losing that plastic cow is the end of his business."
"Well, you never know what triggers a craving for a juicy ribeye. As a matter fact, I could use a big fat steak right now."
"When was the last time you ate something?" I had been so obsessed with my own stomach I didn't think about Leo and his
Similar Books
