In High Cotton: Neely Kate Mystery #2 Read online

I shot another glance to Jed, and the sympathy in his eyes was my undoing. He knew how much this cost me, and I couldn’t do it anymore.

  I sat down next to her and put a tentative hand on her shoulder. “There wasn’t a ring, Kate. I’m sorry. I just wanted you to see what it feels like.”

  Her face lifted and a grin spread across her face as she sat up. “You need to work on the follow-through, Sis, but with a little bit of work, you could be just as devious as me.”

  What had just happened? Had she really recovered so quickly, or had she been playing me all along?

  I stood and sucked in a breath. “I need to know what you know, Kate.”

  Her eyes twinkled. “You’ll find out more next time.”

  I slowly shook my head. “No, I meant what I said. There won’t be a next time. I can’t do this anymore.” I started for the door.

  Jed got up to follow me.

  Kate shot off the bed, but rather than stop me, she blocked Jed’s path. “What about you, handsome? Don’t you want to know the PIN for the Murray account?”

  Jed stared down at her with dark eyes.

  “I’ll give it to you today. I promise.” She glanced over at me with her mischievous grin. “But it comes with a price.”

  I shook my head. “Whatever the cost, I want no part of it.” Then I opened the door. “Goodbye, Kate.”

  I walked into the hallway and waited for several seconds, expecting Jed to join me, but it soon became clear he wasn’t coming. He was negotiating.

  Given her constant attempts to seduce him, I could only imagine what she had in mind. I didn’t think he’d fall for it, but I wasn’t going to wait around while she tried. I headed for the door we’d used to enter the ward, then made my way to the elevator. When Jed didn’t join me, I went to the lobby and waited in the waiting room.

  Fifteen minutes later, Jed found me, looking slightly disheveled.

  I stood and looked up at him. “Did you get what you needed?”

  His left eye twitched, but other than that, he had no facial expression. “Yes.”

  “I meant it, Jed. I’m never comin’ back.”

  “I know.” He spun around and headed for the entrance, leaving me to follow.

  Chapter 5

  Jed was unusually tense and remained quiet as he drove to the highway. After we’d been on the road for ten minutes, I finally broke down and questioned him.

  “What did she want?” I asked.

  His jaw clenched. “The same as usual.”

  “For you to sleep with her?”

  He gave a slight nod, keeping his gaze on the road.

  After several seconds, I asked, “So how did you get the information you needed if you didn’t sleep with her?”

  He didn’t respond at first, then said, “She doesn’t know you killed Pearce Manchester. She thinks Beasley did it and you were an accessory. According to her, she didn’t notify anyone about her theories. She has no idea a PI is investigating you.”

  My mouth dropped open in shock. “How did you get her to tell you all of that?”

  His hands tightened around the steering wheel, and he looked so tense that he would explode if I touched him.

  “What did you do, Jed?” I asked in a whisper.

  He swallowed. “The less you know, the better.”

  A fire ignited in my gut. “That’s not gonna fly with me.”

  He remained stubbornly silent.

  “Jed!”

  He turned to look at me, completely expressionless. “Do you trust me?”

  Fear mixed with the anger. “What did you do?”

  “Do you trust me?”

  Did I trust him? I trusted that he would do everything in his power to help me.

  But did that include sleeping with Kate?

  There was so much going on between us right now, I wasn’t sure. I wanted to say he wouldn’t, and most of me was positive of it, but this was a man who’d dug up the dead body of the man I’d killed, dug another grave, and then burned the body to make certain no one would find a scrap of my DNA on him. Jed had proven he’d go to great lengths to protect me, but did that extend to sleeping with Kate? He hadn’t had sex in at least a month.

  Doubts slipped into my mind, curling in on me like wisps of smoke—You’re not pretty enough for him… You’re just a charity case he’s tired of. The rational part of me didn’t believe it, but the damaged parts of me latched on to the familiar digs like they were lifelines in a turbulent sea.

  “Neely Kate,” he said in a pleading tone. “Please.”

  This was the first sign of emotion I’d seen from him all day and my heart broke. “Of course I trust you, Jed.”

  Relief relaxed his features, but I felt numb. What had Jed done?

  The rest of the two-hour drive was tense and silent, each of us lost in our own thoughts. When we were about five minutes from the farm, I asked, “What am I going to do about the private investigator?”

  “I’ve been thinking about it. The number is to a PI office, but the guy didn’t identify himself. He was trying to intimidate you, which makes it surprising he didn’t leave his name and his agency to make his inquiry sound more official.”

  “You don’t think he’s a PI?”

  “I don’t know. Just don’t return the call and don’t answer if he calls back. I’m still trying to figure out how to deal with it.”

  “Shouldn’t we deal with it together?”

  He was silent for several seconds, then grabbed my hand and squeezed. “We will. Give me some time to mull it over.”

  Jed was typically a man of action and few words. After seeing so much of him the last month, I’d realized that these still waters ran deep. He was capable of split-second decisions, but he preferred to let them sit. Ordinarily, I found it to be an admirable trait, but it was frustrating in this particular situation, particularly since it was my problem.

  He pulled onto the tree-lined drive leading to the farmhouse. It was shortly after six, and Rose’s truck was parked out front.

  Jed turned to me with a grin, but it was obvious he was putting some effort into it. “An etiquette class, huh?”

  I gave him a sly smile. “I need to be highbrow for my date Saturday night.”

  His brow lifted slightly. “Date?”

  I could have played him, but after this afternoon, I wasn’t feeling very playful. “Joe asked me to go to a fundraiser dinner in Little Rock on Saturday night—which reminds me, can you take care of Muffy for Rose? Joe wants to spend the night in Little Rock.”

  “Yeah,” he said, looking uncomfortable. “Sure.”

  “What?”

  “Nothing.” He smiled. “That’s big, huh? He’s willing to make you public.”

  “Yeah.” I tilted my head as I stared at him. “Does it bother you that we haven’t gone public?”

  He took my hand and interlaced our fingers. “While I’d love nothing more than to proudly declare you as my girlfriend, we’re on the same page about keepin’ it quiet. I’m workin’ on becomin’ legit. I just need more time.”

  I resisted the urge to sigh. I only wished he would tell me what he was working on, but every time I asked, he declared it a surprise. I knew better than to press him.

  His thumb began to brush the back of my hand. “I know I’m askin’ a lot of you, NK, but trust me on this too.”

  How many people had I trusted in my life only to be hurt? I was pinning a lot of faith on this man, but in my heart, I know I’d chosen well. Jed Carlisle was an honorable man. “Okay.”

  He leaned over and gave me a soft kiss. “Are we still on for tomorrow night?”

  I smiled. “Yeah.”

  “Dress up. I’m takin’ you to a special dinner.”

  My eyes widened. “Are we headin’ up to Magnolia?”

  “Some place better. Pick you up at eight?”

  “That late?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Okay.”

  He gave me another tender kiss. Then I got out and went
inside, giving him one last wave before I shut the door behind me.

  “Neely Kate?” Rose called from the back of the house.

  I followed her voice and my nose to the kitchen. “Something smells delicious.”

  “I made chicken enchiladas.” She was pulling something out of the oven. “Are you hungry?” she asked as she set the casserole dish on top of the stove burners. The table was already set with two plates, glasses, and silverware.

  “A little. I suppose I need to go upstairs and figure out what to wear tonight.”

  She gave me a look of surprise. “I figured you’d already know since you’ve had hours to mull it over.”

  I gave a tiny shrug, feeling like I was about to burst into tears.

  She took off the oven mitts, then closed the distance between us, pulling me into a tight hug. “Bad afternoon?”

  “It’s never a good one when it involves Kate Simmons.”

  “I’ll give you that,” she said.

  “I found out a bit more about my momma.”

  Rose leaned back and grabbed my upper arms as she searched my face. “You’re kiddin’.”

  I shook my head as a single tear fell down my cheek. I’d let myself ponder all the Ardmore stuff during the drive, but I’d kept my mother on the back burner. This was one thing I could share with Rose, not to mention it was easier to discuss it with her than Jed.

  “What did she tell you?”

  “Not much,” I said, swiping the tear away as I pulled free and walked to the refrigerator to get the pitcher of lemonade. I wouldn’t be able to tell her this face-to-face. “I knew most of it already. Kate found her in West Virginia. She was scared when she realized Kate was a Simmons. She wanted to know if I knew the truth, and when Kate told her no, she didn’t ask her anything else. She was only interested in me if I got part of the Simmons money.”

  “Kate could be lying.”

  I shut the fridge door. “We both know she’s not.”

  Rose carried the casserole dish to the table. “Pardon my language, but your momma is a jackass.”

  My gaze jerked to her in surprise—Rose’s usual idea of a swear was “crappy doodles”—and I started giggling.

  “Well, she is,” she said with plenty of conviction. “She doesn’t deserve someone as amazing as you.” She walked over to the freezer to get the ice tray.

  “You’re gonna give me a swelled head.”

  “Gonna?” she teased. “I thought you already had one.” She filled the glasses with ice, and I poured the lemonade.

  She held up her glass to me. “To making our own family and surrounding ourselves with people who love and care about us.”

  The words could have sounded maudlin if she’d said them in a different tone, but she was glowing.

  I clicked my glass with hers and I realized this was much more of a home than what I’d had with Ronnie. I felt like I’d been playing dress-up when I was married to him. “I’ll drink to that.”

  We both took a sip and then I lowered my glass. “He makes you happy.”

  She gave me a startled look. “What?”

  “Skeeter. He makes you happy.”

  She flushed and gave me a grin, then took the ice container back to the freezer. “Don’t worry, Neely Kate. I know this is only a fling. My eyes are wide open. Yeah, I really care about him and he cares about me, but we both know it won’t last.”

  She’d expected me to give her a lecture, and I understood why. I’d been adamantly opposed to her starting something with Skeeter Malcolm for a whole variety of reasons, but first and foremost, I knew in my gut that man would break her heart. She’d suffered enough heartbreak to fill a lifetime, and it was hard to watch her willingly walk into another one. But she was a grown woman, capable of making her own decisions. I’d said my piece—several times, in fact—and I truly believed she’d weighed her options before taking up with Skeeter. And I had to admit that he was a different man when he was around her. Still, if and when he broke her heart, I’d not only be there to pick up the pieces; I’d hand his castrated balls to her on a silver platter.

  Maybe I’d learn how to properly serve them in our etiquette class.

  But for now my best friend looked happier than I’d seen her in months. We’d had few causes to celebrate, but I’d happily toast to that.

  We pulled up in front of Miss Mary Ellen’s house right at seven. Since Rose was leaving town tomorrow afternoon, she wasn’t planning on spending the night with Skeeter, but she’d packed up leftovers for him and then spent a lot of time on her appearance. We were perfectly on time, which meant we were running late.

  “Violet’s not gonna be happy,” I said, my words tight with anxiety. “She said not to be late. She said to be five minutes early.”

  “We’re not late,” Rose said with a wave of her hand. “We’re fine.”

  I frowned. I was pretty certain Miss Mary Ellen wouldn’t see it that way.

  Miss Mary Ellen Evanston lived in a blue, white-trimmed Victorian house close to the town square. It was old as the hills, which meant it had been built in the early 1900s.

  We walked up the steps to a wraparound porch filled with pristine white wicker furniture that likely hadn’t seen a single posterior. I knocked on the front door while Rose was busy looking at the potted plants next to the door.

  “That fern is root-bound.”

  “What?” I asked absently, peering through the large oval window in the door.

  “It needs a bigger pot.”

  I gave her a look that suggested now was not the time, and when I turned back, a middle-aged woman opened the door with a disapproving frown. She was dressed in a loud pink, green, and white Lilly Pulitzer dress, and her shoulder-length blond hair was in loose curls.

  “May I help you?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I said. “I’m Neely Kate Rivers and this is Rose Gardner. Violet Beauregard called to sign us up for your class tonight.”

  Her mouth puckered like she’d taken a big bite out of a grapefruit. “You’re late.”

  Rose looked at her phone, then said, “We were told the class starts at seven. It’s exactly seven.”

  Miss Mary Ellen did not look amused. “It’s seven-oh-one, and I have half a mind to send you on your way.”

  I shot Rose a warning look, then gave Miss Mary Ellen a sweet one. “We’re so, so sorry, Miss Mary Ellen. It won’t happen again.”

  “You’re correct—it won’t happen again because you are not my students.”

  “Please, Miss Mary Ellen,” I said. “I really need this class.”

  She started to close the door when Rose said, “Isn’t gardening part of being a refined Southern woman?”

  “Maybe fifty years ago,” Miss Mary Ellen said with a sniff, “but not for sophisticated, modern women.”

  Rose gave her an innocent look. “Then you won’t mind me mentioning your root-bound ferns to the Henryetta Garden Club members. And don’t get me started on your overpruned rose bushes.”

  Well played, Rose.

  Acceptance by the Henryetta Garden Club was highly competitive for women of society in Henryetta. Of course, our town’s high society was to real aristocracy what Walmart was to upscale shopping, but it didn’t matter. The garden club members were as fierce as barracudas, and, strangely enough, the members were all expected to have real gardening skills.

  Miss Mary Ellen’s mouth formed an “o” and she backed up and made a sweeping gesture. “Welcome to Miss Mary Ellen’s School of Etiquette.”

  Rose flashed me a grin, and we followed her inside.

  Miss Mary Ellen led us through a two-story foyer with a large wooden staircase, into a dining room with a table that seated twelve. It was full but for two empty seats at the far end of the table and one at the head of the table. Each place setting featured a wide array of silverware, stacked plates, and multiple wine glasses. I was overwhelmed just looking at it.

  “Ladies,” Miss Mary Ellen said in a formal tone. “May I introduce Mrs.
Neely Kate Colson and her friend, Miss Rose Gardner.”

  I cringed—for one, she’d called me Mrs., and two, she’d used my married name, and three, eight teenage girls were staring at us along with a woman who looked like she was barely out of high school. The girls were dressed in nice clothing, but the woman was wearing a silver sequined dress with a gaudy rhinestone necklace, topped off with a pink feathered boa.

  “Hello,” Rose said to the group, then froze when she got a good look at the participants. She turned to Miss Mary Ellen. “Uh… I think there’s been a mistake.”

  “I don’t make mistakes,” Miss Mary Ellen said. “You two may sit there at the end.” She gestured to the two empty seats as she took her own chair at the opposite end.

  Once we were seated, she said, “Since our new participants missed the first two lessons, we’ll reintroduce ourselves. Remember that the way you introduce yourself forms a person’s first impression of you. You want to include just enough information to make yourself interesting but not so much as to come across as narcissistic.” She gave us a broad smile and turned to the girl next to her. “Hello.” She offered the girl her hand. “I’m Miss Mary Ellen Evanston. I was born in Baton Rouge and began teaching young girls how to become genteel Southern women soon after I graduated from LSU.”

  “Then what are you doin’ here?” asked the woman with the boa in a thick Southern accent.

  Miss Mary Ellen’s brow rose so gently it looked like her eyebrows had been lifted with marionette strings. “Teaching girls to become well-mannered young ladies.”

  “But why Henryetta?”

  Miss Mary’s Ellen’s upper lip began to twitch. “It is impolite to ask such personal questions.”

  “That’s not what you said in our first class,” said the girl next to me, looking up from her phone. “You said it was good to ask the person you were introduced to questions about where they’re from.”

  “I heard that she embezzled money from her boss and she’s hidin’ out from the law,” another girl said. “My daddy says there’s so much corruption in Fenton County it draws criminals like dung beetles to a pile of poo.”

  Our instructor looked so taken aback, she didn’t know which comment to address first. After a few seconds, she said in a tone with a hint of bite, “Amanda, we do not discuss bodily secretions at the table.”