Jed Had to Die Page 8

  “Seriously? Am I invisible? I could be having a nervous breakdown right now, and he wouldn’t care,” I complain when he’s out of earshot, getting more and more annoyed every time I see him smile sympathetically at Emma Jo, give Emma Jo a hug, or check on her wellbeing.

  Sure, he’s closer friends with Emma Jo since they’ve lived in the same town together all this time, and sure, he’s still irritated I didn’t recognize him and probably still has a bug up his ass about how I ignored his crush on me back in high school, but give me a break. I just saw my first dead body too, you know. I wouldn’t turn down a hug or a reassuring pat on the back. Hell, I’d even take one of his stupid winks or smirks at this point.

  “You look perfectly calm. I’m sure that’s the only reason he hasn’t said anything to you.”

  “I could be crying on the inside. He has no idea, the jerk,” I grumble.

  When Emma Jo doesn’t respond, I turn my head and look at her profile. Her face is still pale, her eyes are red-rimmed and puffy from crying, and now I’M the jerk in this situation and it doesn’t feel good.

  “God, I’m such a bitch. Your husband is dead in your backyard and here I am complaining about some guy not paying me enough attention. And a guy I don’t give two shits about, at that,” I mutter softly.

  Whatever. I’m not lying, YOU’RE lying.

  “You definitely don’t give two shits about him. I think you’re probably up to about twenty shits, by my last count,” she jokes, bumping her shoulder into mine.

  “Can you keep your voice down? Next thing you know, it will be all over town I take twenty shits a day,” I complain, nodding in the direction of Starla and half the people who live on this street, huddled over in Starla’s front yard, whispering and pointing in this direction.

  Even if Leo is too selfish to spread his comfort and kindness to me, at least I can appreciate him doing it for Emma Jo by ordering everyone off her lawn and telling them they needed to stay out front where he could see them for the time being. It kept the gossipers from hounding us with questions about what was going on or waltzing right into Emma Jo’s backyard to find out for themselves.

  “I’ve been sitting here this whole time assuming you’re fine because Jed was an abusive asshole who probably never would have let you go, but he was still your husband. You loved the guy and you spent twelve years of your life with him. I’m sorry, Emma Jo,” I whisper, swallowing back the tears of guilt and sadness for my friend and what she must be feeling right now.

  “You have nothing to apologize for, Payton. Honestly, I don’t know why I’m crying. I’m sitting here saying to myself over and over, ‘Jed is dead, Jed is dead, Jed is dead,’ and I saw his body and I know he’s really gone, but I still can’t believe it. I can’t believe I’ll never be afraid of waiting for him to walk through the front door, worried about what kind of mood he’s in. I can’t believe I’ll never have to lie or make up excuses or hide what he did to me. I can go anywhere, do anything, say anything, and not be scared. I’m not sad, I’m…relieved.”

  She finally turns her face toward mine and lowers her voice.

  “Does that make me a bad person? I’ve wished that he was dead every day for twelve years, but I never thought it would actually happen.”

  Leaning forward, I press my forehead against hers, just like we used to do when we were younger and one of us needed a little extra love or support. Her eyes stare questioningly into mine, and I do my best to make her feel better.

  “Jed is dead, baby. Wishing for it is not what made it happen, therefore it does not make you a bad person,” I reassure her. “Baking him a pie laced with bleach, ammonia, and artificial coloring, however…”

  Emma Jo laughs at my attempt to make a joke, pulling her head back from mine as we both silently watch Billy Ray come around from the side of the house and make another trip out to his car parked by the curb.

  When Buddy finally stopped puking in the rose bushes earlier, Leo sent him out to his car to phone in a report to the station and call Billy Ray, coming inside alone to break the news to us. He had no idea we’d already seen Jed’s body through the laundry room window, and Emma Jo put on a great show of shock and the required sadness when he told her he suspected Jed most likely got to her backyard without Leo seeing him by sneaking through other backyards on the street, and then probably suffered a heart attack. Watching Billy Ray grab another bag of medical equipment from his trunk to go with the one he already took to the backyard when he first got here, doesn’t do anything to help keep me calm about the bumbling lawyer/bagger/feed store operator/coroner.

  “What if Billy Ray finds out it wasn’t a heart attack? What if he tests the contents of Jed’s stomach? We’re in big, big trouble, Payton. He’ll know Jed ate a poisoned blueberry pie and my kitchen is a blueberry pie disaster,” Emma Jo speculates quietly.

  “Don’t worry about the kitchen, I cleaned everything up as fast as I could after I finished puking and you were still losing your shit in the laundry room. Everything’s in a garbage bag in the coat closet in the hallway until we’re alone and can burn it or something,” I update her quickly out of the corner of my mouth as Billy Ray comes up to the porch steps.

  “Hey, Emma Jo, by any chance do you have one of those do-hickey’s that you use on people when they’re sick and have a fever?” he asks.

  “Um, do you mean a thermometer?”

  Billy Ray snaps his fingers, smiles widely, and points at her. “THAT’S what it’s called! Yeah, I need one of them thermometer things. I just Googled what I’m supposed to do in a situation like this and I guess I need to check the temperature of the body to see when he died. I tried using my thermometer thing, but it’s telling me Jed died at 87.5 degrees. I think mine’s broken.”

  It takes a lot of effort for me not to giggle like a little girl and give Emma Jo a fist-bump when she looks down at me with her own barely concealed smile of joy as she pushes up from the swing to get Billy Jo a “thermometer thing.” I’m pretty sure we’re both a little more confident knowing that Billy Jo couldn’t find his own ass, yet alone the cause for someone’s death.

  Emma Jo disappears into the house and Billy Ray climbs up the steps to follow her. The front door barely clicks shut behind them when a 1986 silver Buick Regal pulls into Emma Jo’s driveway. I let out a low groan of annoyance seeing the car my parents have owned since the year I was born, and another one to go with it when my mother gets out of the driver’s seat, slams the door closed, and stomps across the yard.

  “Payton Marie Lambert, what have you done?” she fires at me, clumping up the steps in a pair of yellow slippers that match the yellow robe she threw on over her yellow and white plaid nightgown. The only thing clashing with her ensemble right now are the five giant blue curlers on top of her head.

  She stops right in front of me on the swing with her hands on her hips to glare down at me.

  “My phone has been ringing off the hook all morning. First, Starla called to let me know you assaulted Bo Jangles, then she called to tell me you killed a deer in Emma Jo’s backyard, then Teresa Jefferson called to say you tried to corrupt poor Caden again. I had to take my phone off the hook after Roy Pickerson called and said he saw a car from the sheriff’s department here and wanted to know if you had robbed another bar. Honestly, Payton. Forty hours of labor with you, and you’re still making me suffer,” she complains in one breath.

  “How come every time you think I’m in trouble, the number of hours you were in labor with me gets higher?” I ask, pushing up from the swing when she opens her arms and taps her slipper-covered foot.

  “Don’t sass me, young lady,” she scolds when I lean into her and she wraps her arms around me. “You might be thirty-years-old and a big, fancy business owner, but I can still tan your hide.”

  She tightens her hold on me and starts swaying us from side to side, letting me know that even if she’s irritated, she still loves me more than anything. I wrap my arms around her waist and take a deep bre
ath of the Jovan Musk perfume she’s worn since before I was born, the smell reminding me of being a little girl, safe and loved and happy. My eyes get blurry with tears when I rest my head on her shoulder. Even though my parents just flew out to Chicago two months ago for my dad’s birthday, after everything that’s happened in the last few days, it seems like much longer, and I didn’t realize how much I needed a hug from my mom until right this minute. Standing in her arms while she rocks me gently and runs one of her hands down the back of my head, I forget about all the reasons why I never wanted to come home to visit and wish I’d done it much sooner.

  “RUBY! DID YOU ASK HER IF IT WAS TRUE THAT SHE CAME BACK HERE BECAUSE SHE REALIZED SHE’D ALWAYS BEEN IN LOVE WITH SHERIFF HUDSON?” Starla shouts from her front yard.

  “YEAH! I RAN INTO MAUREEN AT THE HUNGRY BEAR THIS MORNING AND SHE SAID SHE SAW THE TWO OF THEM STANDING REAL CLOSE TO EACH OTHER RIGHT THERE ON THE PORCH WHEN SHE DROVE BY EARLIER!” Another front-yard gawker shouts over to my mother.

  “I hope he doesn’t plan on marrying her. You should have heard the way she spoke to Bo Jangles. Can you imagine how she’d treat a husband?” Starla says to no one in particular. She’s no longer yelling for the entire town to hear, but due to the close proximity of the houses, her voice carries just fine, unfortunately.

  I hear a muffled laugh and pull out of my mother’s arms just in time to see Leo come around to the front yard, giving the group of gossiping idiots a wave before coming up the steps to greet my mother.

  “Ruby, you’re looking beautiful as always,” he tells her, leaning down to give her a kiss on the cheek.

  My mother, one who has never been at a loss for words in all of her sixty-five years, blushes, giggles, pats the curlers on her head self-consciously, and needs three attempts before she can remember how to speak without stuttering.

  “Oh, Leo, stop it!” she admonishes him with a wave of her hand. “Has my daughter been giving you trouble this morning? What on earth is going on?”

  Leo’s eyes flash to mine, then quickly down to my neck before he shields whatever I just saw on his face and smiles at my mother. I immediately bring my hand up and place it against my neck, forgetting about the red mark on my throat and knowing the only reason my mother didn’t see it as soon as I pulled away from her was because she was distracted by the annoying hot guy standing next to us. That’s just what I need is for her to see it, start shouting, and give the neighbors something else to blather about. I caught Leo looking at my neck several times this morning, and I waited for him to ask me if I was okay or how I was feeling, and each time he quickly looked away like he did just now, not saying a word.

  Again, is it too much to ask for a little compassion? I was almost choked to death last night, and now a guy I threatened to choke with his own balls not more than twelve hours ago is dead a few hundred yards away.

  “Payton has been giving me trouble for a lot longer than just this morning, Mrs. Lambert,” Leo confides with a wink, which makes my mother go all aflutter once again, giggling and blushing and acting like a fool.

  “Don’t you have something else you should be doing instead of flirting with my mother?” I ask him irritably, realizing as soon as the words leave my mouth that the something else is figuring out why there’s a dead man in Emma Jo’s backyard. That we probably poisoned. With toilet bowl cleaner pie.

  Leo leans in closer to me and I suddenly get a faint whiff of the cologne he’s wearing – something light and woodsy and so delicious that I lick my lips and hold my breath when he drops his head close to mine. He veers his face to the side of mine, so close that I can feel his warm breath against my cheek until he stops right by my ear. My heart starts beating faster and I smile to myself, realizing that he’s finally going to ask me if I’m okay. I don’t care if my mother is standing right here, I don’t care if half the town is watching from the next yard over, I’m so happy he’s finally realized I could use a little of the concern he’s been showing Emma Jo that I don’t think I’ll be able to stop myself from throwing my arms around him.

  You know, to thank him for being nice to me and maybe butter him up a little so he doesn’t arrest me for murder, not to sniff him again or anything.

  “Don’t tell your mom anything right now, at least not until Billy Ray is finished and I have a little more information. Oh, and don’t leave town. I’m gonna need you to come down to the station later and answer a few questions,” Leo whispers in my ear.

  He pulls back, gives me a terse nod then gives my mother another kiss on the cheek before excusing himself to return to the backyard.

  “He is such a nice young man,” my mother muses as she blatantly stares at Leo’s ass when he walks down the porch steps, giving another wave to the crowd of people and reassuring them that everything is fine and he’d come back and talk to them as soon as he could.

  “Stop scowling, you look like you want to murder someone. Have you had your coffee yet this morning?” my mother asks when she finally turns away from Leo’s backside. “How about we grab Emma Jo and go down to the Hungry Bear? We can have a nice long chat about what Billy Ray and Sheriff Hudson are doing here, and you can tell me why I’m the last one to know you’ve been in love with him all these years.”

  She takes my hand and pulls me toward the front door, pausing right in front of it to look back over her shoulder and address the crowd.

  “DON’T WORRY! I’LL FIND OUT ALL THE JUICY DETAILS AND GET BACK TO YOU! PAYTON NEEDS HER COFFEE FIRST. THIS CHILD WILL MURDER EVERYONE IF SHE DOESN’T HAVE HER MORNING COFFEE!”

  Just like that, I remember why I haven’t been home in twelve years. And hope my mother doesn’t mind visiting me in prison instead of Chicago for the rest of my life since she just announced to the entire street that I’d kill someone over a cup of coffee. God only knows what they’d do if they knew about Jed, the ball choking comment I made, or the pie.

  Boy, it sure is nice being back home…

  CHAPTER 12

  Recorded Interview

  June 3, 2016

  Bald Knob, KY Police Department

  Deputy Lloyd: Ma’am, I know this is difficult, but I’m going to need you to stop crying for just a few minutes so I can ask you some questions.

  Teresa Jefferson: HE’S DEAD! OH, MY GOD! JED JACKSON IS DEAD!

  *Crying, sniffling, nose-blowing*

  Deputy Lloyd: I’m sorry for your loss, Mrs. Jefferson. Were you close to Mayor Jackson?

  Teresa Jefferson: Of course we were close! He lived across the street and he’s been our mayor since he graduated from college. He used to always wave to me when I was outside getting the mail and he was coming home from work. Who’s going to wave to me now when I go get my mail?

  Deputy Lloyd: Can I get you another box of tissues? You’re almost finished with the first one. Maybe we should take a five-minute break, and then we can continue with the questions about the night of the murder.

  Teresa Jefferson: *Crying, sniffling, nose-blowing* HE’S DEAD! SOMEONE MURDERED HIM! OH MY GOD! JED JACKSON IS DEAD!

  Deputy Lloyd: You know what, let’s just take that break now. I’ll go get you some water. Do you want me to call your husband?

  Teresa Jefferson: *Nose-blowing, sniffling* I can’t believe he’s really dead. Are you sure? I mean, did you double check? Maybe there was a mistake.

  Deputy Lloyd: Ma’am, he’s been in the morgue for three days now, and Billy Ray is in the middle of assisting a medical examiner from Louisville with the autopsy.

  Teresa Jefferson: Billy Ray used his fork to get a piece of bread unstuck from his toaster last week and electrocuted himself. Then there was that time a few months ago when he was submitting the paperwork for Marge and Rusty Calhoun’s divorce and filed adoption paperwork instead. Now Marge is Steve’s mother and she’s had to pay him child support for the last two months because Rusty says if the court of law says she’s his mother, then that’s how it is and there ain’t no take-backs until Billy Ray figures out how t
o fix things. Are you really going to trust Billy Ray to make the judgment call on whether or not our mayor is dead?

  Deputy Lloyd: Ma’am, he’s definitely deceased. I’ve seen the body and believe me, there wasn’t any mistake made.

  Teresa Jefferson: HE’S DEAD! OH, MY GOD! JED JACKSON IS DEAD! WHY, GOD, WHYYYYYYYYY?!

  Deputy Lloyd: You know what, I have someone else I need to interview, so how about I give you a call sometime tomorrow to come back in?

  Teresa Jefferson: *Crying, sniffling, nose-blowing* That’s probably a good idea. I’m just so upset over this whole thing and I can’t possibly think about anything else at a time like this.

  Deputy Lloyd: I understand, Mrs. Jefferson. You take care now, and I’ll be in touch with you tomorrow.

  Teresa Jefferson: *Crying, sniffling, nose-blowing* My heart is broken. I don’t know if I’ll ever get over this or be able to live a normal life or do anything normal ever again. Oh, before I forget, is it true that Payton Lambert and the sheriff are getting married? And if she’s the one who killed Mayor Jackson, which I’m sure she did considering the things she taught my son when she used to babysit him, what kind of marriage are they going to have if she’s in prison? It’s not right I tell you, not right. There are plenty of eligible women in Bald Knob who would jump at the chance to become Mrs. Sheriff Leo Hudson. My sister is single and has always had a thing for the sheriff. You’ve met Chrissy Lou, right? She’s fifty-three and runs the Bald Knob library. She wears a wig on account of that nervous tick she has where she pulls out all her hair, but it’s a lovely red wig and she’s real sweet. Not a murderer and child-corrupter like Payton. How about I leave Chrissy Lou’s number here and you can give it to the sheriff?

  Deputy Lloyd: I don’t… that’s not… Ma’am, you seem to be doing a little better, how about I ask you those questions now so we can get them over with?

  Teresa Jackson: HE’S DEAD! OH, MY GOD! JED JACKSON IS DEAD! WHY, GOD, WHYYYYYYYYY?!