Ding Dong!! Is She Dead?

To: My Brother Micah, since you went to heaven, I realized that life is short, so you are the reason that this book got finished. You may have gotten to heaven first, but I wrote the first book. Miss you tons…

To: My customers, thanks for the inspirational ideas that have inspired the creation of this fictional book. You are truly awesome.

ILoveDPG

This is a work of fiction and in no way is meant to portray actual people, names, places, events or situations. The ideas were from the author’s own imagination and any resemblance to people living or dead is entirely coincidental.

Copyright: 2014 Alathia Morgan

Acknowledgements: Thanks so much to my editors; I couldn’t have done it without you.

Maria Weaver, Gerree Bollum, Pam Geske, and Mom, who all took the time to read this and give your opinions.

Book cover: All credit with the book cover design goes to Nicole Paris, thank you. You Rock!!

Deposit photos for the cover design.

Prologue

Jennifer stepped out the back door of the bar and crossed to the dumpster, threw in the trash and closed the lid. She turned, then stilled when she heard hushed voices.

“Joe, lift it higher.”

“Shut the %@$& up, Freddie, I’ve got the heavy side. You’ve got the feet.”

Jennifer peeked around the dumpster and saw two men trying to lift a man into the back of a black Lincoln Town Car. As they struggled, she watched with growing horror as they shoved his legs in and slammed the trunk shut only to have the lid pop up when it closed on a protruding shoe.

Stifling a giggle, she ducked back behind the dumpster so they wouldn’t see her as they went back into the building.

She memorized the license plate number and type of car. She ran back into the bar, locking the door behind her. Hurrying to finish closing, she grabbed her bag and let Ted the bouncer walk her to her subway stop. Waving goodnight to Ted, she took a quick look around and hurriedly walked three blocks to the next bus station. She decided to let the police know what she had seen and let them decide on whether a crime had actually been committed.

At the precinct, she watched drunk and disorderly men and women in interesting attire. She might be wasting her time; it was Saturday night in New York. She gave her information at the desk and took a seat.

A pair of detectives approached her, “Ms. Jennifer Smythe, will you please come with us?” They took her to an office to help block out the noise. “You’re here to report a murder?”

After explaining what she had seen and where she worked, she added that it had seemed funny when the trunk wouldn’t close, but that was what had made it seem so real.

Watching the detectives exchange a glance, she quickly interjected, “I also have the license plate number if that helps.”

While she was writing down what she witnessed, one of the officers ran the plate number. Hearing a knock on the window, the other officer left quickly. When they came back a few minutes later, they told Jennifer to go home. They would contact her if they needed her.

On the way home, Jennifer wondered if it was just her imagination or maybe a good night of sleep would take care of whatever hallucination this turned out to be.

At 6 am she was awakened by a pounding on her door. Two people were at her door flashing a badge thru the peephole.

“Hold on just a minute, I am calling the number the officers gave me last night,” she said dialing the number; she hoped the two had not gotten off their shift yet and would still be available.

“Yes sir, may I speak with Detective Reagan please? Well, I have two people at my door saying that they are from the FBI and I wanted to make sure that they were legitimate. Oh, you guys sent them to bring me to the precinct? I’m to confirm that they are Tombs and Riley?

Hold on.” Walking to the door with phone in hand, “Can you please tell me your names?”

“Riley and Tombs from the FBI, Miss. We are here to make sure you get to the station without incident.”

“I’ll just be a minute while I get dressed, if that is alright?” Jennifer asked as she opened the door.

“Certainly miss, we just want to make sure you are protected while they work out the details.”

“Details? So it was true? That was a real body and those men were going to dispose of it?”

“OMG!!! I cannot believe this is happening. Am I just answering more questions or are they taking me into protective custody?”

“We are not sure exactly what is happening, but it would not hurt to pack a suitcase to last you for a short time.”

Jennifer sank to the chair. “This can’t be happening. I mean, all I did was go to work yesterday like normal, now I’m leaving my home with two FBI agents.”

Several days later, Jennifer was signing the paperwork that would change her life forever…

Chapter 1

In Texas, two years later, Allie took a second look at herself in the mirror. So much had changed; she no longer dyed her hair blonde having let her natural brown grow out. Now it was styled in a cute bob cut to help combat the summer heat. After eating fried food since her move, she had put on curves that filled out her girlish figure. On the inside she was still the same lonely girl who had left New York and travelled across the country to start over.

While she could say “y’all” with ease, some days it was just hard to remember who she had been before her entire life had changed. Fitting in had not been as hard to do as she had initially thought. Mentally surviving was a different story altogether. The change from big city to small town in the country was the most challenging adjustment so far.

There were live cows crowded into trucks driving down the main streets and occasionally someone on horseback would just be on the side of the road, out for a ride.

Boots were the shoes of choice, whereas Allie was used to everyone wanting to own a pair of Manolos or L. Vittons so they could be somebody. In rural Texas, women mostly wear the Walmart brand: the main choice of fashionable taste.

Allie left for work at the store where she sold sports equipment, shoes and clothes. When she lived up “north” as it was called here, she shopped at several stores for each outfit or activity she was shopping for, versus all- in- one- stop shopping which seemed much more common here. Walmart and Target were the main shopping outlets in this rural area.

She often wondered what they were thinking when they sent people into witness protection so far from their comfort zones. Did they really expect them to acclimate to an entirely different culture? These people still had flags from the Civil War and didn’t take to outsiders very well.

After two years at her job, Allie had a few regular customers, but the couple that walked into her store today were completely different from any others she had come across before. This sweet older couple came in to find running/walking shoes in order to start exercising together since he was about to retire from his job.

After suggesting several ideas and trying on a few pairs of shoes, they found a style that was the perfect fit for both him and her. At the checkout, the lady reached into her purse and pulled out a business card along with her money. Plastered across the front were the words, “You can start your own career today!”

“Honey, you can make a commission on helping people just like you did with us today while working for yourself. Instead of a $300 sale where you made no commission, you could have made $100 to $150 for doing what you just did in less than thirty minutes. I’m Pat. You can give me a call when you get off. We can meet for coffee and I’ll tell you how get started.”

Allie took the card politely and finished ringing them up. People in the South were more helpful with giving unwanted advice. Everybody loved to give out advice, but only if they didn’t have to get physically involved in the people’s lives they were giving advice to.

After her shift, she ran her ticket to see what her sales were for the day. She was surprised to see that she had sold $1500 that day. She was only making minimum wage just $8.50 an hour. If that Pat lady was right, she could have made closer to $500 or up to $800 for the day instead of $85. What a difference that would make! It would change her life so much, she wouldn’t have to work two jobs to make ends meet.

Pulling out her phone as she walked to her car, she called Pat.

“Could we meet tomorrow at 8 a.m. for coffee? I would like to become a Nova Lady.”

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Two months later, Allie realized she had finally found her calling. Not only was she selling Nova cosmetics to help ladies build their physical confidence, but this was so much different than working for someone else. She was her own boss and had her own schedule. She quit her job selling sport shoes, but was planning to keep her night job of bartender at the Three W’s bar. She really enjoyed it.

Making deliveries one day, her first stop was to see Jessica and Britany at the ‘Salon’.

“Hey, girls, I’ve got the new nail polish you wanted. These are called ‘Hot Sprinkles’. They come in green, purple, pink and blue.”

Twenty minutes later, all five ladies in the shop had ordered two nail polishes apiece. They got the lipsticks that were on sale as well. Back in the car, Allie was about to go to the beauty shop, but changed her mind when she saw what time it was.

She moved the schedule around so she could make it to Miss Barbara’s house on time. If she didn’t arrive there by exactly 10 a.m., Miss Barbara would call her continuously until she got there with her $10 bottle of perfume.

She went in and came out of the house as quickly as she could, but still managed to smell like cigarette smoke from Miss Barbara’s constant chain smoking.

Miss Barbara might be eighty, but she understood good manners because she was the only person to ever offer Allie a cigarette. Allie had always declined. The rules growing up had always been that ‘You should just say NO to drugs and cigarettes’.

Miss Barbara was still smoking, even though most people had given it up since it was bad for your health. She even had her oxygen tank sitting next to her, so it would be ready with a breath of fresh air when she finished smoking.

Allie just chuckled to herself. How ironic was that? She needed the oxygen to breathe; yet she just couldn’t live without that cigarette which would blow up the tank if she got too close.

Knowing Miss Barbara enjoyed the company, Allie always tried to visit for a short time, but today she had a lot to accomplish.

Back in the car, she had to douse herself in a sample body spray so that she didn’t smell like smoke for the rest of the day. So many people were sensitive to smoke; Allie tried to be as accommodating as possible.

Allie’s next stop was much more pleasant. Dollies’ Salon was the beauty shop where one could always expect to hear the latest gossip.