A Bloodhound to Die for (20 page)

Looking back, it would probably have been easier—and saved a whole lot of trouble—if I’d just seen the absurdity of the whole situation and excused myself from the Lanes’s house, laughed all the way back to town, then sworn out restraining orders on the whole clan.

But I didn’t want to have to do that. It brought back too many memories of being pursued by my maniac ex-husband, Bubba. And I didn’t want to swear out a restraining order as that would have meant calling Hank, who I’d decided I’d never voluntarily talk to again. And I surely didn’t see the humor in being discussed as if I were some fantasy come to life—a female commodity—for Jimmy Joe Lane.

“Mrs. Lane,” I said, startling her a little with my interruption. “You’ll need to contact your cousins and cancel the wedding music—”

“You have someone else you want to do the music?” Netty said, looking alarmed. “Oh, Billy and Jeb will be so disappointed—”

“Please! Listen to me!” I ground the next words out between my teeth. “Listen carefully. I. Am. Not. Marrying. Your. Son. Not next month. Not ever. Do you understand?”

Obediah and Netty stared at me, eyes wide with shock. Clearly, they didn’t understand—at least not fully. I sighed, went on with what I hoped would be an explanation that would clear everything up. “Look, I don’t know quite why Jimmy Joe has this fascination with me. But it has got to stop, okay? I’m not in love with Jimmy Joe. I never even met him until a few weeks ago. I am not marrying him. In fact, I came here because I hoped you’d get him to understand he has to get over this obsession with me. He must leave me alone.”

They continued to stare.

“Now, look,” I said. “I refused to do a search for Jimmy Joe after he escaped from Monroe Prison. I figure that means you owe me one. Please, save us all a lot of heartache and get it through to Jimmy Joe that he needs to forget about me and leave me alone.”

Obediah started shaking, looking for all the world like a little boy who’s just been told that no, he’s not going to get a coveted toy after all. “But—but—he told us about all the letters you and him sent to each other. Poems. Love poems. How your tender words got him
through all those awful nights in the prison, giving him the courage to break out again and again …”

I swear, the man actually sniffled and wiped a tear from his eye.

“Mr. Lane, I don’t know what all Jimmy Joe told you, but I’ve never corresponded a single word with Jimmy Joe. Your son is living in a fantasy world and the best thing you can do for him—”

“Are you calling my boy a liar?”

I turned my attention to the woman who a moment ago was swooning over the chance to become my mother-in-law. Now, she stared at me with hard, glittering eyes. Under different circumstances, this was a woman I could admire for her sheer grit.

She stood up, hands on hips. “No one calls my boy a liar,” she proclaimed, spittle flying from the corner of her mouth. “You—you—hussy. You—you—whore of Babylon!” Her bird’s chirp voice turned into a shriek. “You get yourself and that slobbering hound from hell out of my house, now! You’ll pay for this—”

“Mrs. Lane, I came out here to reason with you—”

Obediah put his face in his hands and started crying. Netty put her fingers to her ears and squeezed her eyes shut in a hear-no-evil, see-no-evil pose. “Jezebel! Man hater!”

I didn’t want to see what would happen if Netty Lane ran out of names to call me and decided to find a rifle and come after me.

I stood up, walked out, with Bobby Lee following
me, and went back to my truck. Running would have been a more proper response, but I didn’t want to give the Lanes the satisfaction.

When I got back to paved road, though, I broke the speed limit by more than a few miles per hour.

  
22
“… But at Least You Can Choose Your Friends”

B
y the time Bobby Lee and I got back home, I was not only shaking all over, my stomach was roiling, my head was starting to ache, and I had an urgent need to pee. Too much weirdness. Too much caffeine.

I let Bobby Lee out of the truck—and let him take care of his call of nature first—before going into my house. Somehow, the fact that I’d needed to use the security code to once again get through my front gate to my property—shades of Bubba past—hadn’t made me feel any better about my disastrous encounter with Jimmy Joe Lane’s mama and daddy.

I got Bobby Lee settled inside, took care of my own call of nature, then swallowed some aspirin for my impending headache and some fizzy stuff for my stomachache. I lay down on my bed for a few moments,
knowing that rest would give me a chance to recover and the medicine a chance to work, but as I drifted off, visions—of Bubba, of Jimmy Joe, of Obediah, of Netty—danced in my head in maniacally gleeful whirling rounds to banjo and harmonica music.

I jerked awake. I was too restless simply to lie still while awake. There was plenty of work that needed doing for my business.

I splashed some water on my face and ran a brush through my hair. I left my room and headed to my office, but then a sly thought popped into my head. Maybe what I needed was some comfort food. A leftover biscuit—or two—with butter and honey. Surely I’d burned enough calories through Lane-induced anxiety to justify the snack?

Before I even got to the dining room, I heard clear peals of laughter. Male laughter, female laughter, twining together in a delighted chorus. I stepped into my dining room, and saw Susan and Lee Kirkland sitting across from each other, each with a cup of coffee, laughing and chatting as if this were
their
dining room, one they shared cozily on a regular basis.

I cleared my throat, and they both looked up at me with sudden guilty expressions, as if they’d been caught in some naughty act.

I went over to the table and sat down next to Susan, across from Lee. “Good morning,” I said simply.

Susan glanced nervously at Lee—this man who previously
she’d called “Baldy” when I’d referred to him as good-looking—with an expression verifying that his hairline was no longer what interested her about him. “Uh, hi, Jo Beth,” she said. “I just came by to chat with you about something—”

“—and she ran into me,” Lee said. He smiled, apologetically. “We introduced ourselves and then I’m afraid I just started talking her ear off and then one thing led to another—”

“—and here we are, drinking your coffee left over from the morning’s breakfast for the trainers, Jo Beth!” Susan gave a most girlish laugh.

Good Lord, I thought. They couldn’t have been talking for much more than an hour and already they were finishing each other’s sentences? This too was bizarre, but in a much nicer way than the visit with the Lanes had been.

I waved a hand, as if to brush aside their concerns. “Plenty of coffee here,” I said. “You’re welcome to it. Although I’m sure it’s not my coffee that brought either of you here?”

Susan stared down into her cup. “I—I needed to talk with you about something, but I’m sure it can wait.”

“Oh, please don’t let me prevent you from—” Lee started.

“No, your need to talk with Jo Beth is more pressing,” Susan said. “And really, I need to get back over to the Browse and Bargain.” She looked at Lee, making her eyes wide. “That’s my store,” she added.

“It’s in the middle of town. You can’t miss it. I’m open all day.”

She started to stand and Lee stood up quickly, dashing around to our side of the table to carefully pull Susan’s chair out for her. Good Lord, I thought again. A Southern man … with honest-to-God Southern manners.

Lee watched Susan go. I had a feeling that when he finished whatever business he had here with me, he’d find himself with a sudden need to go book shopping. I pushed back a smile at that. Good for Susan. Yes, I’d found Lee attractive. But I surely wasn’t going to begrudge the fact that Susan and Lee obviously found each other much more than attractive—compelling was more like it. Anything to make Susan see the light about awful, womanizing Brian Colby. And Lee had suffered the tragic loss of his brother and sister-in-law. They could both use a dose of happiness.

Lee sat back down across from me. “I came by to let you know that things have finally worked out with Sherlock,” he said. “Both my parents and Sara’s parents have agreed to give up their ridiculous fighting over who gets custody of him. Taking care of a dog is too much for all of them. But they want him to stay in the family. Sherlock is as close to a grandkid as either side has.” He paused, and gave a sweet-sad smile. “So Uncle Lee here gets custody of him.”

“Oh, Lee, I’m so glad to hear that!” It was a relief to know that the pain the families of Leon and Sara had
already experienced would not be extended through a fight over a bloodhound that should be cherished and loved. “How’s it going with you and Sherlock?”

“Well, that’s why I’m here. We’re doing pretty well. But we could both use a little training,” Lee said. “Actually, I need the training. I’m quite certain Sherlock is doing everything he should. But I’ve never been a dog owner. I find myself to now be a dog lover, but clueless as an owner. Since you and your people know Sherlock better than anyone else, I was hoping I could get a little training? Of course, I’m willing to pay whatever fee you normally charge—”

I waved my hand at him. “Never mind the fee. Consider the training a gift in celebration of your new addition to your family.”

Lee started to argue, then stopped, thinking better of it. I like that—someone who knows how to accept a gift graciously instead of arguing about it. He gave that sweet-sad smile again. I wondered how long before his smile would be real and full. Maybe Sherlock would help with that. And Susan too?

“Thank you,” Lee said.

“Where’s Sherlock now?” I asked.

“In the kennel,” he said.

“Come on. Let’s get started.” He stood up, started gathering up the coffee cups and saucers. “Don’t worry about that,” I said. “I’ll make sure it’s cleaned up later. I’m eager to get you and Sherlock started with one of our trainers.”

When we got out to the kennel, I found Nola Faye Dowling—the young trainer who’d tried to give me and one of the officers a hard time at breakfast—and informed her that she could spare some time away from the officers’ training to give one-on-one attention to Lee and Sherlock. She started to argue with me, then shut up when I pulled her aside and told her that her future depended on Lee’s, and Sherlock’s, satisfaction and success with her training. By the time I left Lee and Sherlock with her, she had forgotten about me and was focused on the task at hand.

Then I went to the common area, looking for Donnie Ray. I wanted to see if he had any more insight into Wayne’s unhappiness. I couldn’t afford to have Wayne be perpetually miserable, and since my attempt to straighten things out with the Lanes had failed, I was determined to wrap up at least one loose end today. Somehow or other, I wanted to get my life back on an even keel. Sooner or later, I’m hoping I learn that that doesn’t mean solving others’ problems.

Jasmine cornered me before I could find Donnie Ray, though.

“How did your interview with the Lanes go?” she wanted to know.

I gave a snort. “I’m now officially number one on the Lane family’s most-wanted list, a fact that automatically makes me an endangered species.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“Don’t I wish. Seems they were in the midst of planning a large secret swamp wedding for Jimmy Joe and me next month on the twelfth, Jimmy Joe’s birthday.”

I saw from her bright eyes and amused expression that she wasn’t taking this seriously.

“But you don’t even know the guy. How did his parents get such a crazy idea?”

“Jimmy Joe has been feeding them bulletins of his undying love for me for more than a year now. His latest escape was planned to consummate the match made in heaven.” I shuddered involuntarily at the thought. “And his parents believe every word he utters.”

“This is ridiculous. They got angry when you set them straight?”

I thought about Obediah’s sobbing and Netty’s vehement howling of nasty names at me. “Angry doesn’t accurately describe their feelings. I want you to know that my snotty attitude didn’t land me in this latest mess. I am completely blameless.”

“I believe you,” she said with wide-eyed innocence.

“Watch it. I have a short fuse this morning … and I detect barely controlled amusement in your eyes.”

“How’s this—I believe you. I really, really believe you.”

I sighed. “Keep practicing. Maybe you’ll improve your act with repetition.”

Jasmine made the wise decision to scoot out of my path.

Fortunately for her, I saw Wayne, consulting a clipboard as he moved slowly through the common area.

I went over to him, touched him on the arm. “How’s it going?” I signed.

Wayne tucked the clipboard under his arm. “Fine,” he signed back. “These officers are among the best students we’ve had, and—”

“That’s not what I meant. I know the training is going well. If it weren’t, I’d be in the thick of it putting it right. What I mean is, Wayne, how’s it going with you?”

“Fine.”