Downright Dead Read online

  Another knock came from the hallway door. “Yoo-hoo,” Miss Alice’s voice came from behind the door. “Tru. Are you in there?”

  Oh, crapola. Why didn’t Nelda warn me? Don’t panic. The door is locked. She can’t get in. But what if Tru comes back while she’s standing at the door? Holly’s heart thumped so hard she could barely hear anything else.

  I’ve got to hide. She scanned the room. Under the bed? The armoire? Behind the drapes? The windows!

  She tiptoed to the floor-to-ceiling windows and eased one open, then stepped through. When I get my hands on Nelda, I’m going to strangle her.

  Holly made her way to the riverside of the balcony and opened her bedroom window, then stepped through and into her bedroom. As she passed her dresser, she caught her reflection in the mirror. Her hair had taken a walk on the wild side. Mercy. What could she expect after she’d had the bejesus scared out of her? Holly smoothed her hair as she crossed her bedroom. She took a deep breath and opened the hallway door.

  “Miss Alice,” she said. “Whatever brings you up here?”

  The old gal wheeled around like she was thirty years younger. “I have business with Tru.”

  “What kind of business?”

  Miss Alice peered over her glasses. “That is between Tru and me.”

  * * *

  “Why didn’t you warn me Miss Alice was coming?” Holly asked Nelda as soon as they entered the attic bedroom Holly had named the Mississippi suite.

  “First, how was I supposed to know Miss Alice was gonna knock on Tru’s door?” Nelda caught her breath. “Second, ain’t nobody gonna stop Miss Alice from goin’ where she wants to go.”

  Holly pushed the heavy drapes on the dormer window open. Sunlight slashed across the antique rug and dust particles danced in the beam of light. She fanned the dust. “It does smell stuffy in here.”

  “Always does.” Nelda opened the drapes on the other dormer. “What’d she want with Tru anyway?”

  “She wouldn’t say.” Holly ran a dustcloth over the side table next to the canopy bed. “The only kind of business Miss Alice could have with Tru is probably not good. She either wanted to get some sort of scoop from him or give him some. Gossip is Miss Alice’s commodity.”

  “You got that right.” Nelda shoved open the dormer window. “You think she wanted to set him straight about Burl being a real ghost after Tru made such a fool of himself?”

  Holly shrugged. “I think she would have done that last night if she wanted to. It’s never good when she starts nosing around.”

  “Speakin’ of nose.” Nelda wrinkled her nose up “I smell somethin’ burnin’.”

  Holly sniffed the air and followed the scent to the dormer window. “That’s cigar smoke. Only one person here smokes cigars, and he’s not supposed to smoke anywhere except the back balcony.”

  “You think Tru’s smokin’ in his room?” Nelda asked.

  “I don’t know, but I’m going to find out.” Holly stepped out into the hall and down the stairs to the second floor. She beat on Tru’s door.

  No answer. Holly sniffed the air, but didn’t smell cigar smoke like she had at the attic level. She marched up the steep stairs to the widow’s walk, then shoved the door open.

  Tru stood surrounded in a fog of cigar smoke.

  She slammed the door behind her.

  He pivoted enough to see her, then blew out a smoke ring. “Keep your distance, unless you want me to get a restraining order on you.”

  Restraining order my foot. “You can’t get a restraining order on me in my own home. If you don’t like it here, leave.”

  “Oh, I like it fine.” He sucked on his cigar. “It’s you that has a problem.”

  “The only problem I have right now is you breaking the rules.”

  “What rules?”

  “Smoking is only allowed in the designated area.”

  “You expect me to walk all the way down to the back of the house every time I want a puff?” He made a flourish with his hand at the view of the Mississippi River. “When this is right here?”

  “This area is under construction.”

  Tru shrugged. “Doesn’t take away from the view or the convenience. I get a better signal on my phone up here, too.”

  “It’s closed to guests.”

  Tru surveyed the widow’s walk. “I don’t see any construction. No signs. No tape to rope off the said construction area. Sounds like you just don’t want me up here.”

  “Look, no one is supposed to be up here. The inspector said I had to raise the railing before guests could come up here.” She pointed to the hole in the deck. “My carpenter fell through a rotten spot.”

  Tru glanced at the wrought-iron railing. “Anyone ever fall off before?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  “So what’s the problem?” Tru puffed his cigar and the smoke drifted over the rooftop. “Any idiot would know not to lean over the railing or step in a hole.”

  “It doesn’t matter. This is my house and my rules.”

  “I could open a window and blow the smoke out.”

  Holly folded her arms over her chest. “Read the fine print on your reservation. There’s a three-hundred-dollar fine for smoking in the rooms.”

  “Or a free space right here.”

  “You know what? I hope I catch you again. I’ll evict you and you can stay at the No Tell Motel thirty miles down the road until Sylvia gets here for the shoot.”

  He thumped his cigar ash on the deck. “I don’t think so.”

  “Try me.”

  “Sylvia is here.” He pointed behind Holly.

  She looked over her shoulder at a red convertible speeding down her driveway. “She’s not supposed to be here until tonight. What makes you think that’s her?”

  “Google alert.” He took another puff of his cigar. “She posted on Twitter that she was on a red-eye to New Orleans to revisit ‘The Ghost in the Grove.’”

  “You really are a troll.”

  He shook his head. “I’m a truth finder.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Sylvia Martin exited the red convertible rental car with the grace of a Hollywood starlet. Sylvia’s blond Bergdorf locks brushed her shoulders as her never-ending legs lifted her on killer heels to a nearly six-foot height. The blue designer dress probably matched her eyes. Just her looks made it hard for Holly to like Sylvia, but it was more than that. Sylvia didn’t seem to care about anyone except herself. No secret there. But that was also her greatest weakness, and Holly intended to use that to get what she wanted.

  Holly eased down the front porch steps to meet Sylvia at her car for a private chat. Somehow, Holly had to convince the TV host to either cancel the show or enlist her in helping fake a ghost without telling her Burl’s spirit had left the building, for good.

  “I’m glad you came a little early, too.” Holly wasn’t, but she needed to say something nice besides “great shoes.”

  “What do you mean ‘too’?” Sylvia slid a high-dollar clutch bag under her arm.

  “Tru checked in last night to watch the show.”

  “What?” Sylvia snatched off her oversized designer sunglasses and looked toward Holly Grove. “Where is that little troll?”

  “My sentiments exactly.” Holly cast a pointed look at the widow’s walk at the top of Holly Grove. “Up there.”

  Tru waved as he sucked on his cigar.

  Holly was tempted to wave back with her fist. “He’s not supposed to be up there, much less smoking.”

  “I hope the little troll falls off.” Sylvia leaned against the car and popped the trunk with her key fob. “He thought he could get a jump on me and you didn’t even tell me he came in early.”

  “I thought you knew.” Holly flopped her arms at her side. “He told me coming early was in his contract.”

  Sylvia cocked her head to the side and arched one eyebrow. “He lied.”

  A ticked off stream of heat rushed up Holly’s back.

  “And you be
lieved him.” Sylvia gave a grand eye roll. “I hope you haven’t told him anything about your ghost. Has he been snooping around?”

  “No and yes,” Holly said. “He had to be snooping to even find his way to the widow’s walk. That door is always closed and not marked.”

  “Don’t tell him anything.” Sylvia walked around to the trunk of her car. “My bags are in there. Thank God, I’m not staying in that shack you called Abe’s cabin this time.”

  Holly took a fortifying breath. No matter what Sylvia said, Holly needed to suck it up. She needed to be on Sylvia’s good side if she had one.

  “You’re in one of my best suites this time.” Holly grabbed one of the five bags in her trunk. Lordy, she must pay a fortune in extra baggage fees.

  Sylvia inspected her perfectly manicured nails. “Don’t you have a bellman, or is that hunky Jake still around?”

  Obviously, she believed her bags magically appeared in her room on her last visit. “Most people carry their own luggage.”

  Sylvia shoved off her perch against the car. “You don’t expect me to—

  Holly forced a grin through gritted teeth. “I wouldn’t want you to break a nail before the show.”

  A shadow of a smile crossed Sylvia’s powdered face.

  “Speaking of the show,” Holly added casually, “I need to talk with you about that while we’re alone.”

  “Look.” Sylvia sashayed to Holly at the trunk. “I know you’re not happy about this, but it’s going to be fabulous. Your reservations will go through the roof.”

  “Last night’s show did that! And I’m thankful.” Holly pinched her brows together and tilted her head in her best impression of concern. “I’d hate for your ratings to go down if Burl is a no-show.”

  Sylvia folded her arms and tapped her designer-clad foot. “Don’t tell me you haven’t kissed and made up with your ex? I mean ghost.”

  Holly cringed. “That’s what I need to talk to you about.”

  “Please don’t tell me you’re still not speaking.”

  “We’re not speaking. That’s why you really need to call this off. It could be a disaster for your career and my business. It’s not too—”

  “I am not canceling.” Sylvia drilled Holly with a laser stare. “I can’t.”

  “Sure you can. Just call it off. Say you’re sick. Whatever it takes.”

  “I will not let a lovers’ spat ruin this. You have no idea how much buzz this shoot is getting.” She pointed her red-hot laser focus up at Tru. “And I’m taking down that little troll.”

  “I’m with you on that, but what if Burl doesn’t show? The troll wins.”

  Sylvia looked down at Holly as though she were handing down gospel. “I know how to handle men. Whatever it is you’re fighting about with your ghosts, just tell him it’s all your fault even if it isn’t. Lie. Tell him you’ll never do it again. If he did something, suck it up, buttercup. Tell him you forgive him even if he didn’t ask. Just end it, so we can get on with this.”

  “But I’ve tried everything.” Even if she had, he wasn’t coming back.

  Sylvia folded her arms and eyed Holly. “And he’s still not speaking to you?”

  Not this side of Heaven. “Evidently he holds a grudge. I guess he figures he has all eternity to be mad at me. What’s weeks, months, or years to him?”

  “I don’t care how you do it, but you’ve got to get some action out of him or else.”

  “Or else what?” Holly shrugged. “What can I do to a dead guy?”

  “You better think of something.” Sylvia slipped her sunglasses back on. “Because the show must go on.”

  “Then we have a problem,” Holly said.

  “No. You have a problem.”

  A low buzz sounded from inside Sylvia’s Prada purse. She dug out a phone and checked the screen. “I’ve got to take this.”

  “But—”

  Sylvia turned her back and walked down the driveway. Okay, she’s not going to cancel, and Burl can’t make this command performance.

  Holly could make out bits of Sylvia’s conversation as she walked away.

  “Yeah,” she said into the phone. “He’s here and clueless, I’m sure. You take care of the money end. You just get me what I need before the shoot.”

  The rest of the conversation faded as Sylvia disappeared behind a two-hundred-year-old oak tree.

  Interesting. There were a lot of adjectives Holly could use to describe Tru . . . rude, messy, stinky, pushy . . . but clueless? And what did Sylvia need?

  Sylvia stepped from behind the ancient oak and dropped her phone in her purse. “Okay. What are you going to do if Burl doesn’t show?”

  “Me?” Holly pointed to her chest. “You were going to fake it?”

  “And risk my journalistic reputation?”

  Holly blinked. “But you said you’d . . .” And since when was a paranormal investigation show journalism?

  “I said I would act if I had to.” Sylvia gave a wry grin. “It’s up to you to set it up.”

  Oh, crapola.

  “Need a hand with that?”

  Holly whirled around to find Thomas standing behind her, staring into Sylvia’s loaded trunk. So much for finishing her private chat with Sylvia. “That would be great. Thanks.”

  It seemed like he showed up every time she needed help. Coincidence, or was he watching her as much as she felt watched?

  Footsteps crunching through gravel sounded behind Holly.

  Sylvia held her arms out for balance. “This stuff is a hazard in heels. Have you ever heard of pavement?”

  “It’s better than the mud pie of a dirt driveway I had until recently,” Holly said.Thank you, Burl, for making Holly Grove profitable.

  When Sylvia looked at Thomas, her eyes lit up like stage lights. “I don’t believe we’ve met in person.” Sylvia extended a slender hand. “Sylvia Martin. Inquiring Minds.”

  Holly blinked. In person?

  “I recognize you from the show.” Thomas shook her hand. “Although you’re more beautiful in person.”

  She all but batted her lash extensions. “Thank you . . .”

  Holly stood there with her mouth open. “You know Thomas?”

  “Of course, I know the Thomas Sinclair of T&C Sinclair Producers of San Francisco.”

  Something about the fan girl act didn’t ring true to Holly.

  He smiled. “Just Thomas.”

  “Don’t be modest,” she practically cooed. “You’ve been a producer of some of the most successful cable shows.” Her well-manicured fingers fluttered to her chest. “Including mine.”

  “You’re with Inquiring Minds?” Holly asked Thomas. She couldn’t hide the incredulous tone in her voice. In spite of Nelda’s instant dislike, she’d really liked him.

  “Not at all. T&C is my better half ’s pet project. I really don’t consider entertainment in my wheelhouse. I balance our portfolio with tech investments. Chris has a knack for picking winners in entertainment. I have little to do with it except writing checks.” He shrugged. “And our investment in the show is minor. ”

  “We all do our part,” Sylvia said, wrapping her arm around his. “Let’s go inside and chat about the show. Have you heard the buzz?”

  “Chris should join me any day now. You two will have lots to talk about.” Thomas freed his arm and picked up two suitcases, then turned toward Holly Grove. “Why don’t you grab a bag and we’ll have you unloaded in no time.”

  Sylvia eyed the three suitcases left in the trunk and picked the small train case.

  Holly still liked him. Could she fault him for wanting to check out the setting for what Sylvia said was their best show of the season?

  Holly mentally shook her head. Just because she liked him didn’t mean she should trust him.

  * * *

  Tru strolled out on the front porch and eyed Sylvia through his Clark Kent glasses as though he had them set on X-ray vision. “Well, well, well. The star has arrived.”

  Diva is more
like it. Holly hefted two suitcases and trudged up the brick stairs behind Sylvia.

  “That’s right.” Sylvia said, as her heels hammered the brick steps to the lower balcony. Never slowing down, her chin tilted higher than any sorority girl in the history of Ole Miss. “All you’re trying to do is make a name for yourself and cheating too.”

  Tru trailed after her. “I don’t need to cheat to debunk the fabrication I watched last night.”

  “Oh, yeah.” Sylvia whirled around. “Then why did you lie to Holly about a contract to come a day early to get a jump on me?”

  “I came early because I do my homework, unlike a talking head like you.”

  “You couldn’t catch up with me if you came a week early.”

  Mercy. Thank goodness he didn’t. Holly stood holding the suitcases between round one of the Tru and Sylvia match. Her head hurt just thinking of them arguing over the next few days. At least, she’s on my side this time.

  “No need.” Tru lit up his stump of a cigar and turned his Clark Kent X-ray vision on Holly. “Not one sign of a ghost since I got here.”

  And there wouldn’t be. She gulped then dropped the luggage. It hit the painted cypress planks with a thud. “Maybe you don’t have the gift, Tru.”

  He groaned and pointed his stogie at Sylvia. “The supposed ghost will show up now that the special effects team is here.”

  Not this side of Heaven.

  “I don’t and did not use special effects.” Sylvia seemed to measure her tone, but the tight set of her jaw told Holly it wouldn’t last. “You saw the show last night. How could I fake that?”

  Tru shrugged. “Women fake things all the time, believe me.”

  “I’m sure they do.” Sylvia paused for effect and lifted an eyebrow. “For you.”

  Holly stifled a laugh.

  “I wouldn’t fake this for anyone,” Sylvia said.

  Crapola. She can’t back out of faking the haunting. I’ve got to get her away from Tru.

  He blew out a cloud of cigar smoke.

  Holly fanned the air, then wrapped her arm around Sylvia’s like they were BFFs. “Don’t let him get to you. Let’s get you settled in your suite . . .”

  Sylvia didn’t budge. She latched on to Holly’s arm and glared at Tru. “Do you know what that smoke smells like?” She asked through gritted teeth.