Light from Her Mirror (Mirrors Don't Lie Book 3) (34 page)

“Are
you- Are you her?” The simpering note in the other woman’s voice was so
exaggerated that Madison almost rolled her eyes.

Brash
made the introductions, using the opportunity to move several feet away from
the woman in pink. “Mrs. Gleason, this is Madison Reynolds. Madison, Ramona
Gleason.”

“I’m
so sorry about your husband, Mrs. Gleason,” Madison said with utter sincerity.

The
blond sniffed delicately. “Thank you. I’m-I’m so sorry you had to find him like
that. Oh, my poor Ronny!” Another wail of sorrow had her reaching for the
chief’s arm again.

An
awkward moment stretched into two. Over the top of the crying woman’s head,
Brash sent Madison a beseeching look, silently begging her,
Do something!
Madison shrugged helplessly, which earned her an exasperated stare from the
officer. She finally gave into the urge and rolled her eyes, then reluctantly
moved forward.

Touching
the other woman’s shoulder, her voice was compassionate as she asked, “Mrs.
Gleason, is there anything I can do to help?”

She
pulled away from the broad shoulder she camped against. “Why, yes, yes there
is,” Ramona said unexpectedly. “Would you continue to take care of the chicken
houses for me?”

Madison’s
jaw fell open in dismay. It was the very last thing she wanted. “I, uh, I’m
afraid I don’t know very much about them, ma’am.”

“You
were planning to work here for the week, weren’t you?” There was something
almost challenging in the question.

“Well,
yes.”

“Then
I’ll expect you to honor your commitment.” For a grieving widow, her tone had
the definite ring of business. “I trust that you and Ronny had some sort of
contract?”

“Yes,”
Madison nodded reluctantly.

“Then
it’s settled. At least for the week, you’ll honor your agreement with … my
husband.” Her voice crumpled on the last words.

Brash
must have anticipated the fresh round of tears that was coming, because he
quickly moved away and out of her reach. He turned his attention to the
activity stirring at the door of the chicken house, where the coroner was
leading the way out for the stretcher carrying Ronny Gleason’s torn and
battered body.

This
time when Ramona Gleason wailed out mournfully, there was no one there to hold
her.

A shower never felt as good as it did
that day. Madison stayed under the spray until the water turned tepid and her
freshly scrubbed skin began to pucker. Only then did she step from the shower
stall and slip into gloriously fresh clothes that held no odor of chickens.

She
considered burning the outfit she had worn that morning, but knew she would
need them again, possibly even the next day. There was no need to ruin another
set of clothes, after all. She used extra portions of detergent, but doubted
the shirt and jeans would ever come truly clean; at the end of the week, she
could drop them into the dumpster and be done with them.

Just
as she slid into fresh jeans and a soft sweater set, Madison’s cell phone rang.
When she saw the number that popped up on the caller I.D. screen, she grabbed
the phone and answered with an unsteady hello.

“Is
it true?” Genesis Baker demanded. “I just heard the most horrible news!”

Hearing
her best friend’s voice was her undoing. The tears she held at bay sprang free,
leaking from her eyes and streaming down her face. “Oh, Genny, it was- it was
horrible!”

“Where
are you? Are you all right?”

“I’m
home. And I’m not sure I’ll ever be all right,” she admitted on a sob. “You
can’t imagine how he looked…”

“I’ll
be right over.”

“You
can’t do that! You’re at work!”

“Of
course I can! I’m the owner, remember?”

Madison
wanted to be brave and insist that she didn’t need her friend to come, but they
both knew it was a lie. She had to compose herself before the twins got home
from school, and Genny was her best chance at doing so.

“If
you’re sure…” she whispered.

“Be
there in a jiffy!” Genny promised. Before she hung up the phone, Madison could
hear her friend’s voice ringing out, “People, watch the café for me. Got a
family emergency!”

***

Ten
minutes later, Genesis Baker bounded up the steps of the three-bedroom
craftsman-style home. She let herself in and found her friend in the kitchen,
exactly where she knew she would be.

“Oh,
honey, are you all right? You look terrible!” Genny said the words with love as
she folded her best friend into her embrace.

“I’ve
been getting that a lot today,” Madison said dryly, returning the hug.

Genesis
frowned and stepped back to examine her friend. “Who said such a thing to you?”

“Of
all people, none other than Brash deCordova. Although in his defense, he didn’t
say the words out loud, and even if he had, he would have been right.”

Genny
gasped. “You saw Brash? On today, of all days?”

“Well,
he is the chief of police, and I did find a dead body. The two sort of go
hand-in-hand.”

“Sit
down and start from the beginning. I want to hear everything.” Genny deposited
a white sack onto the table and drew out two of her signature Genny-doodle
cookies, the same delectable treats she sold at her newly opened café and
bakery in downtown Naomi. Before joining Madison at the table, she poured them
both a cup of coffee as if they sat in her own kitchen.

Madison
relived the gruesome morning once more, instinctively knowing this would hardly
be the last time she was asked to do so. Genesis interrupted her story more
times than Brash deCordova ever dreamed of doing, but she found her friend’s
questions far less disruptive. When she finally got to the end of her tale, she
sagged in exhaustion and watched Genny’s eyes fill with sympathetic tears.

“You
poor thing! I’m so sorry you had to see that!”

“I
have a feeling I’ll be seeing it again tonight in my sleep. And I doubt I’ll
ever get that stench from my nostrils.” She sipped at her coffee, needing the
warmth it provided. She was still chilled to the bone.

“Well,
at least you don’t have to go back.”

“Didn’t
I tell you? Ramona Gleason wants me to complete the week. In fact, she insisted
that I do.”

“She
would, that peroxide floozy!” There was uncharacteristic disdain in her
friend’s normally cheerful voice.

“I
was a little surprised when I saw her,” Madison admitted. “In fact, I never
even suspected that Ronny Gleason was married. He actually made a pass at me
the first day I went to his farm. After seeing his wife, I can’t imagine what
he thought he saw in me.” Madison frowned into her coffee mug as she cradled it
with both hands.

“Oh,
please, not that again!” Genny rolled her eyes in exasperation. “You really do
have to buy yourself a mirror, Maddy, and not one of those ripply ones that
comes out of a carnival. You’ve always been gorgeous. And unlike Ramona
Gleason, your beauty is real. Hers comes from a bottle.” She grinned from
behind her own coffee mug, displaying her trademark dimples as her sense of
humor returned. “Well, actually, I hear that her boobs came from a clinic down
in old Mexico.”

“They
did seem a little too perky to be real.”

“I
heard she’s had plastic surgery so many times she hardly looks a thing like she
did when they married ten years ago.”

“Wouldn’t
all that be expensive? Ronny didn’t seem to be exactly rolling in money,” she
said, thinking of his tattered clothes and hair that needed trimming.

“Oh,
please, did you see the house they live in? And the vehicles they drive? The
man owns six chicken houses. Do you have any idea how much money those things
rake in each year?”

“Not
really,” Madison admitted. “The way he negotiated down my contract price, I got
the impression he was barely scraping by.”

“He
was going deep-sea fishing for a week. That had to cost a small fortune in
itself.”

Madison
frowned. “I guess I was so excited to make the deal, I never thought about
that.”

“I
doubt you have to honor the contract, you know. If Ramona’s name wasn’t on the
dotted line, she really can’t hold you to it.”

“I
know. And as much as I dread the thought of having to go back —dead body or no
dead body— the fact is, I need the money.”

Genesis
shook her head in sad wonder. “I still can’t believe Gray left you penniless.”
They had been over the same road a hundred times, but the destination was
always the same.

“I
know.” Madison’s sigh was glum. “But he did, and I need what little money this
job will bring in. I was originally hoping it would also bring in more
business, but I don’t think I’m cut out to be a chicken farmer, even for a week
or less.” She crinkled her nose derisively.

“If
I hadn’t already spent most of my inheritance, you know I’d give it to you.”
Genny’s blue eyes were soft and earnest.

“In
a heartbeat. But I can’t think of a better way for you to have invested your
money, than in your very own café. You’re a natural, Genny girl.” Madison’s
smile was proud as she beamed at her friend.

“You
can still come to work for me full-time. The offer stands.”

“You’re
the best friend a gal could ever have, and I do appreciate the offer. But
friendship and business just don’t mix, and we’ve been friends for too long to
mess things up between us now. You go live your dream, and I’ll live mine.”

“That’s
the thing, Maddy. I’ve always dreamed of owning my own bakery and I’m finally
getting to live out my fantasy. But I know running a temp agency has never been
your life-long goal. It doesn’t seem fair that I get to have so much fun, and
you have to work in chicken houses, of all places.” She crinkled her nose as she
mentioned the smelly profession.

“Like
I’m always telling the kids, life is not always fair. And to be honest, I don’t
know what my dream job is. Maybe working at a variety of professions will point
me in the right direction.”

Genesis’s
eyes danced with amusement as she sat up straighter in her chair. “Oh, do
tell!” she gushed dramatically. “So far you’ve been a chauffeur, a gofer, a
dog-walker, and now a chicken farmer. Which of these glamorous professions do
you prefer?” She batted her eyes with feigned fascination.

Madison
laughed at her friend’s antics, exactly as intended. Genny was good for her
soul, no doubt about it. They had been best friends since the summer of eighth
grade, when Madison moved to Juliet to live with her grandmother. Through college,
numerous moves and marriage, they were still inseparable twenty-five years
later.

“Actually,
being a personal shopper might be fun,” Madison mused. “I like spending other
people’s money.”

“Yes,
but I always envisioned it as being a bit more glitzy. I thought when you were
a personal shopper you got to buy things like fur coats and plush furnishings
and Oriental rugs. So far you’ve been stuck buying hearing aid supplies and
bladder control pads.”

Madison’s
eyes twinkled with mirth. “But they were the new and improved version, I’ll
have you know. And Miss Sybille was thrilled with my selection.”

“You
might even say she was so excited she peed her pants!” Genny quipped.

The
women dissolved into laughter, until the phone rang and interrupted them. Madison
got up to answer the old-fashioned rotary dial wall phone in her grandmother’s
kitchen as Genny poured more coffee.

“Miz
Reynolds?” a deep voice said through the receiver. “This is Cutter Montgomery.
I was just calling to make sure you were doing all right, ma’am. I know you had
a pretty rough morning.”

“Cutter,
how nice of you to call! That was very thoughtful. And yes, I’m doing as well
as can be expected, I suppose.”

“I
thought you handled yourself like a real pro, Miz Reynolds.”

“Mrs.
Reynolds makes me sound so old. Call me Madison.”

She
could hear the smile on the other end of the line. “Would you settle for Miss
Maddy?” he compromised.

The
name sounded so delicious coming from his lips, she could not help but return
the smile. “Miss Maddy will be fine.”

“You
take care now, Miss Maddy. Let me know if you need anything.”

“Thank
you, Cutter, I’ll keep that in mind. Bye now.” She was still smiling as she
hung up the phone and faced her friend. “He is the nicest young man. If he was
ten years younger, he would be perfect for Bethani.”

“Forget
Bethani. If I was twenty years younger, he would be perfect for me!” Genny
grinned. “That boy is nine kinds of good-looking.”

“If
you were twenty years younger, you would be jail-bait. Go for ten.”

Genesis
waved her hand in dismissal. “I’d still be too old for him. He’s only like
twenty-five or something.”