Our Red Hot Romance Is Leaving Me Blue (6 page)

$3,000, give or take…

Justin disconnected from the call from Debbie Sue and drew another block around the note he had written on the scratch pad by the phone on the end of the kitchen counter. He had traced it so many times his pen had cut through the paper to the next page.

He hadn’t expected to hear from Debbie Sue and Edwina so soon. They had been gone from his house no more than a couple of hours. He tried to decide if Debbie Sue calling back this quickly meant they were a little bit
too
eager to take the case.

She had explained what the Equalizers could offer and
their
fee, with which he had no problem, but she had added
an unexpected expense—the services of a woman in El Paso who had “powers.” And Debbie Sue had even personally vouched for her. Compared to the El Paso woman’s fee, the cost of the services of the Domestic Equalizers was small potatoes.

Justin was happy Debbie Sue had agreed to help him, but a psychic? Communicating with the dead? The whole thing was creepy. But was it possible? And if it were, what would he say to Rachel’s, uh…
ghost
?

He remembered horror stories he had heard around a campfire as a boy. Movies he had seen came to mind.
Poltergeist
had scared the bejesus out of him when he was a kid.

He knew reams of articles had been written about extrasensory perception, but he had read few of them. He had seen news stories and TV shows about charlatans who had taken advantage and collected enormous amounts of money from people whose common sense had been overpowered by profound grief. He knew of reported cases of people who claimed to have ESP, but he didn’t know anyone personally. Nor did he know anyone who had even relied on someone with this so-called God-given gift.

Yet, for all of his skepticism, something from a mysterious place deeply buried within him told him the unexplained message on his refrigerator called for something beyond simple surveillance. Maybe hiring someone who claimed to be able to communicate with unearthly types could explain it for an earthly type like him.

But spending so much money on something like a fortune-teller still gave him pause. It wasn’t the money, not really, be
cause he had money to spare. He never discussed—and tried hard to not think about—the money that had been awarded to him by Rachel’s insurance company. His deceased wife had been insured by the law firm that employed her by a $250,000 double-indemnity life policy. The proceeds came via certified mail six weeks after the accident. Though he was the beneficiary, he hadn’t even been the one to make the claim. He assumed someone where she worked submitted it. That money, more than he had ever seen or hoped to see in his life, now lay untouched in several banks. The cost of the medium would scarcely make a dent in the total.

He had to do it, didn’t he? What better option was there? But if he said he would pay for this, he could be cautious, couldn’t he? He could agree to bring the person claiming to have mystic powers to Odessa, spring for a nice hotel room and meals. He could even establish up front that before she and the Domestic Equalizers got their hands on any part of the proceeds from his dear Rachel’s death, they had to prove themselves to him.

He turned away from the phone and started for the refrigerator for a Coke, but was stopped in his tracks. To his shock and astonishment, a new message glared from the refrigerator door.

“Oh, my God,” he whispered as a shudder passed over him. He had just told Debbie Sue he would call back tomorrow, but he walked back to the phone. Holding the business card
in his trembling left hand, he punched in the number and waited only two burrs before he got an answer. “Okay, I’ll do it,” he said. “Surveillance and the fortune-teller. But I’ve got conditions.” He outlined his expectations, then hung up.

He returned to the table, picked up the pen and drew another box around
$3,000, give or take
.

Debbie Sue disconnected and turned to Edwina.

“What’d he say?” Edwina asked.

“Not much. But he’s going for it. Surveillance and the fortune-teller. Those were his exact words.”

“No shit?” Edwina said slowly. “I didn’t think he’d agree to it.”

“I didn’t say he’s enthusiastic about it. He just said he agrees to bring Isabella and her granddaughter here. He’ll pay their room and board, but he’s got one condition.”

Edwina huffed. “What does he want, a money-back guarantee?”

“Sophia said her grandmother’s fee had to be paid up front, but Justin isn’t willing to do that. He wants her to prove she’s really got psychic powers before he pays her anything. He wants to, you know, kick the tires, take it for a test drive.”

Edwina shot straight up from her seat. “Holy shit, Debbie Sue. Don’t you dare let Isabella Paredes tell me anything about
my
future. I said already, I do not want to know a damned thing about it. I do not want to worry about things before they happen. I’d rather handle them as they come. Don’t you dare use me as a guinea pig. And I’m as serious as a heat rash about that.”

Debbie Sue patted the air with her palms. “Settle down, oh great one. You act like you’ve got a two-way radio plugged in to the spirit world.
I’m
the one she singled out and called by name, remember? How do you explain that?”

Edwina dropped to her seat again and covered her face with her hands. “Hell, I can’t even explain why rap music is so damn popular. Or why boys are wearing the crotch of their pants down to their ankles. How can I explain how a psychic knows stuff?”

Debbie Sue laughed. “When she gets here, maybe you can ask her about the rap music and the baggy pants. Then we’ll all know the answer to that. The point is, Ed, that she might be able to tell Justin something that will make him believe in her.”

“You vouching for her wasn’t enough for him?”

“Apparently not. But you heard me. I didn’t exactly give a glowing endorsement. Three thousand dollars plus expenses is a lot of money. I don’t blame him for being cautious.”

“Oh, hell, me neither,” Edwina said.

“I’ll work with him tomorrow on the details. And a room somewhere nice in Odessa.” Debbie Sue bit down on the tip of her nail, deep in thought. “Can you think of anything else?”

“I’m
afraid
to think of anything,” Edwina said.

The sound of an approaching car and the frenzied barking and whining of Jack, Jose and Jim, the Overstreet dogs, interrupted. “Buddy’s home,” Debbie Sue said and headed for the back door.

Stepping out the back door, she let the screen door close
behind her as she watched Texas Ranger James Russell Overstreet Jr.’s black-and-white cruiser creep up the quarter-mile caliche driveway. Her memory didn’t travel back far enough to recall when she hadn’t loved Buddy Overstreet. He had been in her existence for as long as she could remember. Sometimes she wondered if her life could go on if he weren’t a part of it. Not that their relationship didn’t require work and patience—more so on his part than hers, she readily admitted. She was stubborn and willful, even when she didn’t know it. And those were just the traits she would openly acknowledge. Her poor good-natured Buddy endured much from her.

He came to a stop under the shed. He gave her a smile and a wink as he opened the car door and began gathering papers from the passenger seat. “Hey, Flash. I love it when you meet me.”

Her being home and out of mischief was his preference, but not necessarily hers. Still, she loved being home before him. It gave her a feeling of being a pioneer woman greeting her man home from a hard day of hunting and warring. She smiled. “Hiya, Wyatt”—she often lovingly called him Wyatt Earp—“I’ve got beer in the fridge and a casserole in the oven.”

“Good Lord. A welcome home and cooked food to boot. I must’ve done something right today.” He unfolded his solid six-foot, two-inch frame from the car’s interior. Lord, he was handsome in his starched white shirt and khakis. He wore his white Stetson at just the right set on his head.

She walked to him, wrapped her arms around his neck and
hungrily kissed him. Oh, yeah, she could pass up a supper of tuna casserole and feast on her husband’s kisses. That is, if Edwina were not inside the house.

“Hmm, I like this,” Buddy said, one hand squeezing her bottom. “But I have to admit, it scares me a little. What’s up?”

Debbie Sue pushed him away and gasped with feigned indignation. Just then, Edwina came out of the house and called out, “Hey, good-looking.” She walked toward them.

“Well, hello, Ed. I didn’t see your car out front.”

“I rode out here with Debbie Sue. Vic’s supposed to pick me up in about half an hour. He’s coming in from the West Coast. Man, have we got a new case to tell you about.”

Debbie Sue shot her partner a murderous look, but the woman was paying her no attention.

Debbie Sue preferred briefing Buddy in advance on the activities of the Domestic Equalizers. He wasn’t crazy about the detective agency and was quick to either declare that something she and Edwina had committed to do was “too dangerous” or “over their heads.” She tried not to lie to him directly about the cases they took on, although she sometimes didn’t tell him everything she knew. In her mind, she always debated if a fib by
o
-mission was equal to a lie by
co
-mission. In Debbie-Sue logic, choosing to omit every detail usually won the argument and unfortunately, this caused her no inner conflict, though it sometimes caused great outer conflict between her and Buddy.

Indeed Buddy had divorced her once for her hardheaded ways, and now that she had him back, withholding facts here and there seemed to make things go more smoothly between
them. His learning of some of her and Edwina’s escapades and unintended consequences upset him much less after the fact than if he knew of them beforehand.

“I’ll tell you all about it over supper,” Debbie Sue said, taking his arm. “Ed, why don’t you call Vic and tell him to come over here when he gets to town? Y’all eat with us tonight.”

“Thought you’d never ask,” Edwina said. “I’m about one burned-to-a-crisp meal away from losing that man altogether.”

“Thought Vic did all the cooking,” Buddy said.

“He does when he’s home. But when he’s coming back off the road, I make an effort. It’s hard because I have to start by dragging all my shoes out of the oven.”

Buddy laughed. “You kill me, Ed.”

Edwina took Buddy’s other arm and the three of them walked toward the door.

“I’ll wait until Vic gets here to tell you everything,” Debbie Sue said. “I don’t want him to miss it and I’m not sure I’d believe it if I had to repeat it.”

Vic arrived on schedule and he and Edwina had such a charged homecoming, Debbie Sue was almost embarrassed. Through the meal, Debbie Sue, with Edwina’s help, explained the mysterious events in Justin Sadler’s house. Buddy’s comments amounted to mostly
Hmm
’s, a few
Really?
’s and twitches of his thick black mustache. Throughout the discussion, Debbie Sue stole glances at Vic. He didn’t even say
Hmm
and
Really?
She felt he was holding something back.

After the meal, she and Edwina began clearing the table
and carrying the dishes to the sink. Vic parked his massive hulk in the kitchen doorway, arms crossed over his barrel chest, shoulder braced against the doorjamb. “Anyone, living or dead, who would carry on this campaign of harassment against this Justin guy for months is either desperate or extremely pissed off.”

“Oh, absolutely.” Debbie Sue looked at Edwina with a wink and mouthed
campaign of harassment.

“And experience has taught me that situation can cause someone to get hurt,” Vic added.

Debbie Sue’s scalp tingled.
Shit.
She knew where Vic was headed and Buddy would jump right on that wagon with him before it even had time to leave tracks.

As if acting on cue, Buddy closed the refrigerator door and said, “I couldn’t agree more. That’s why I want you two to back out of this one, Flash.”

“Good idea,” Vic said.

“But, Buddy, I’ve already made a commitment,” Debbie Sue pleaded. “Justin’s depending on us to help him. That’s what the Equalizers are all about—not
causing
pain by uncovering secrets, but
helping
people with real-life problems.”

To Debbie Sue’s astonishment, Edwina said, “I agree with Buddy and Vic. I don’t like getting involved with ghosts.”

Debbie Sue turned on her partner. “Ed! You traitor.”

Buddy leaned against the cabinet and heaved a great sigh. “Flash, there’s nothing about this that could be defined as a ‘real-life’ problem. It’s weird to the point of being ridiculous. It could make you two a laughingstock all over Texas. Remember how pissed off you got when that sheriff
in Haskell called y’all clowns? I refuse to allow you to get involved in it.”

“Yeah,” Vic put in. “Can’t you girls find something else to do?”

A laughingstock? Something else to do?
Debbie Sue gasped. These were the three people she dearly loved and who were supposed to love and support her. She couldn’t believe that after all the cajoling and reasoning she had done with Edwina, the woman had sided against her. And after all the talking, negotiating, begging and downright knock-down, drag-out fighting she had done with Buddy over his “forbidding” her to do something, she was stunned that he was taking this obstinate position.

Oh, well, she could easily twist Edwina’s arm and make her change her mind. It was Buddy’s attitude that stung the most and he didn’t respond very well to arm-twisting. Planting her right fist on her hip, she looked up at him with the squint-eye and spoke slowly. “Clowns? You think what Ed and I do is laughable?”

“That’s not what—”

“You know what, Buddy Overstreet?” In spite of herself, Debbie Sue’s voice elevated a decibel. “If I end up wearing face paint, a fuckin’ rubber ball on my nose and juggling horse turds, I wouldn’t back out of this now.” She turned to Edwina. “You know damn well my word is my bond. You’re my partner. You’re supposed to support me.”