The Dead of Summer (16 page)

“I. . .uh, I was power walking…”

“You are full of it! I was just in your room! You stuffed a pillow under your blanket to make it look like you were sleeping in your bed. You wouldn’t do that it if you were just out walking.” Mama planted her hands on her hips and stared me down. I honestly could say, up until that moment, I had never been scared of my mama. Right then, however, I was clenching my thighs together to keep from peeing myself.

“I’m sorry, Mama! I couldn’t sleep.” I tried a different lie, hoping she’d buy this one. Instead, she saw right through me.

“Was it that boy I saw you with the other day?” Mama asked me, her voice softening a touch.
When did she see me with a boy?
Carson?
For a woman who didn’t get out much, she didn’t seem to miss much either. She tilted my chin toward her face. “Kennedy, did you sneak out in the middle of the night to meet a boy?”

I nodded my head up and down, unable to lie.

“Oh, Kennedy,” Mama moaned as she sat down on the couch next to me. She shoved a throw pillow to the side with annoyance. “I guess you’ve done this before, then.”

I shook my head. “No, never. I swear, Mama.”

She sighed again, running her fingers over the scar on her cheek that she had gotten from walking into a window sill when she was younger. “Kennedy, you’re too young for boys and sex—”

Mortified by her insinuation, I interrupted her, recalling Carson’s words. “It’s not like that Mama, we’re just
friends
.”
Geez, Mama. . .he hasn’t even kissed me!

She bobbed her head, but still spent the next ten minutes lecturing me about the dangers of being out at night, the dangers of boys and pretty much the dangers of ever stepping foot outside of our house. I had to bite my lip to avoid bring up the danger
inside
our house, like the dead body festering in our basement.
Maybe, just maybe, I was so tired that I had been delirious and imagined the body? Maybe the whole thing had been a dream?
The only way to find out was to ask.

“Mama, I have a question about—”

“Sex?” Mama asked, flushing scarlet.

“God no, Mama!” I wanted to fling myself down the stairs next to the dead body.
How was I gonna ask her about this? Maybe I could just wait till she told me? Or at least till she got rid of it? What if I told her about it and she decided to pack us up and run away again?

“What, Kennedy?” Mama was chewing her lip, looking impatient and crazy all at the same time. “Oh God, you’re not pregnant are you?” She clutched her chest. “I don’t think I can take any more surprises.”

“No!” I yelped.
God, she didn’t know me at all.

“Well, what then?” Mama asked impatiently.

“There’s a body in the basement, Mama,” I whispered.

A gasp escaped from Mama and she shrank back from me, pressing herself into the folds of the couch. “What did you say?”

“There’s a body. In the basement,” I repeated, slowly, realizing how utterly insane I sounded. Mama looked like she aged a thousand years just then, all the color draining from her face, her skin hanging off her skull.

“You’re wrong,” Mama croaked. “There’s no body in the basement.”

“I saw it, Mama. I saw it with my own two eyes.”
And Carson saw it with his.

“Kennedy—”

Just then, there was a rap on the door. Mama just stared at the door in shock.

“You want me to get the door?” I asked after the second set of knocking.

Mama shook her head violently. Wringing her hands, she rose to her feet and pushed back the curtain. “It’s Mrs. Harris,” she said, breathing a sigh of relief. Then, she stood frozen, not moving at all.

“Are you gonna open the door?” I asked, just as Mrs. Harris knocked a third time. “She knows you don’t go anywhere.”

“Oh, yes!” Mama said, practically jumping out of her skin. She rushed to the front door like a scared little stinkbug. Then she turned to me and warned, “Don’t repeat what you just said, Kennedy. Mrs. Harris will think you need to be carted off in a paddy wagon.” I saw the angry eyes again, and my heart stuck in my throat. Mama opened up the door.

“Good morning, Tracie!” Mrs. Harris chirped as she stepped into the front foyer. She spied me on the couch and she smiled. “Kennedy! What a pleasure to see you this fine morning!” She held up a basket. “I know it’s very early, but I just couldn’t sleep. So I was up at the crack of dawn and made this batch of corn muffins. I thought you gals would like to eat them hot.”

“What a lovely surprise,” Mama said in an unnaturally high-pitched voice. Beads of sweat broke out around her hairline. Mama usually was much more relaxed with Mrs. Harris. Something was definitely suspicious.

“Kennedy, why don’t you go ahead and get dressed,” Mama said to me, jerking her head toward the stairs. “We’ll finish our chat later.” She shot me an unnatural toothy grin, which did nothing to alleviate my fears.

“Sure, Mama,” I said obediently as I rose to my feet.

“Let me make us some coffee,” Mama was saying to Mrs. Harris as I climbed the steps. I entered my hot-as-hell bedroom and immediately began to sweat.

I peeled off the T-shirt and pajama bottoms I had on. They were filthy, either from scaling trees or belly crawling through a corpse infested basement. Tossing them in my hamper, I rummaged through my drawer and pulled out fresh shorts. Then I selected a new tank top and pulled it over my bra.

I grabbed my phone off my nightstand (fully charged now) and saw there had been fifteen messages from Lindy already, the last threatening to never speak to me again if I didn’t answer her immediately.
What the hell was she doing up so damn early for?

I quickly typed back that I had just woken up. I resisted the urge to ask
what can I do for you, Your Majesty?

Shoving the phone in my back pocket, I headed down the stairs. Peeking around the corner, I could see my mama at the kitchen table with coffee and Mrs. Harris. A visit from our friendly neighbor could range anywhere from an hour to all day long.

My eyes swept over the door to the cellar oh-so casually. My heart sped up just thinking about the mystery man that lay not so far from where I was currently standing. Peeling my attention away from the door, I dashed into the kitchen and grabbed a banana off the counter. I glanced at the corn muffins, but looking at them just reminded me of the consistency of the dead guy in the basement and I had to fight off a wave of nausea.

“Where you going?” Mama asked nervously, her eyes locking on mine. Those eyes were pleading with me.

“I’m going for that walk now,” I told Mama, heading to the front door and not giving her any time to protest. I was eager to get out of the house, away from Mama and the body in the basement.

I threw open the front door and stepped out into the sauna that the day had already become. The air hung around me like pea soup, and despite my slow gait to accommodate my banana eating, I was sweaty and out of breath by the time I hit the corner. I wasn’t sure where I was going, but it certainly wasn’t home. That place scared me for all sorts of reasons now.

I couldn’t imagine my mama to be a killer, but I couldn’t figure any other explanation. It didn’t seem likely that Mama would suddenly snap and kill someone, but neither did finding a body in the basement. It seemed like something you would find in a Nancy Drew novel.

The phone in my pocket started buzzing impatiently. I pulled it out and glanced at the screen.

Lindy
. Who else? Between the séance and fighting for Carson’s attention, I was still annoyed with her. I didn’t really want to deal with her nonsense today. . .especially not when I had a dead body in my basement. I glanced at some of the messages while I walked (subconsciously heading toward Lindy’s house anyway).
Wn 2 go 2 Charleston w me? OMG l%k @ Sam n d hooker shorts!
(a picture of our “former” friend Sam wearing shorts with her butt cheeks spilling out the bottom followed), another message regarding Sam,
wot a f@ 3:-o!
And so on and so forth.
What was the point in having twenty-six letters in the alphabet when you didn’t use half of them?

I wandered over to the marsh trail, wanting to just clear my head.
Why would Mama say there was no body in the basement? Did she really not know? Or was she lying?

I halted in my tracks when the phone buzzed again.
Hurry ^, I nEd a pedi!
I sighed.
Did she think about anything other than herself?

I needed to go see Lindy, to stop the texts at least.
Can’t have her totally ticked off at you, Kennedy.
It was one thing to poke the bear with a stick a little bit. It was another to smash her over the head with a tree branch while rolling in peanut butter. I headed down the trail, my heart racing and my palms sweating. How was I gonna keep this little fact about the dead body a secret from Lindy of all people?

If Lindy got wind there’s a mysterious dead body in the basement and you don’t tell her, well, the prom scene in
Carrie
will look like a kindergartener’s birthday party after she gets done eviscerating you.

I was torn as I stood in the middle of the trail, halfway between my house of horrors and Lindy’s. It was early and the trail was silent. I couldn’t believe that I had been out here only a few hours earlier with Carson, before my life started to completely unravel.

Carson!
I had completely forgotten about him, as ludicrous as that was. I had left him when I went into the house. Did he race home to tell his daddy about the body in the basement? Or would he keep his promise to not say anything?

My phone started ringing in my hand, scaring the crap out of me. I glanced down, expecting it to be Lindy, demanding I show my face, but instead, I saw it was my mama calling.

“Damn it,” I mumbled as I stared at the phone. I didn’t want to answer it. Would she demand I come home? Or would she come up with another excuse for the dead body?

Ignoring the call, I shoved the phone back into my pocket. I leaned down to tie my tennis shoe which had come unraveled. When I stood, I found myself face to face with none other than the delectable Carson. And Colt, who was thumping his tail against the ground.

“Oh!” I yelped, clutching my chest. “I didn’t expect to see you there! What are you doing?”

“The question should be, what are
you
doing? I’ve been chasing after you for a half a mile now.”

“Chasing after me?” I was confused.

“Yeah, remember? You left me in your backyard?”

“Sorry. I didn’t know that you were still there,” I apologized.

“Well of course I was,” he said. “We still haven’t found out who the body belongs to.” He lowered his voice after the word “body”.

“I didn’t know we were going to—” I stammered.

“Well, of course,” Carson cut me off. “How else would we know who killed him and why?”

“Well, I’m not sure I
want
to find that out,” I said. “I kind of just want the body out of the basement.”

We were close enough to Lindy’s house that I could see her room. It actually had a window seat, a wonderful glorious bench with comfortable cushions, which butted up to that huge bay window with a view of the peaceful gardens below. What I would have given to have such a treat in my own room—I would spend hours a day with my books stacked next to me, sipping sweet tea and drinking in the beauty of my environment. But did Lindy appreciate that window seat? No way. She tossed her clothes on it and never sat there. The window was always closed and the curtain drawn tight. Although, as I glanced up just then, could have sworn I saw the curtain move.

Lindy.

Carson saw it at the same time as I did. “Let’s get away from here before she sees us and wants to come with us.”

“Yeah, who needs her tagging along?” I agreed. It was bad enough Carson was involved.

We headed back down the trail in the direction I had come from, the trees shading us from the already oppressive heat. It was probably gonna be the hottest day of the summer. We didn’t even talk—it seemed like it would use up too much energy. Instead, I obsessed over the body in the basement.

I wonder how long it takes a body to decompose in this heat? We really need to get to the bottom of this soon. . .before I end up on the crazy train with Mama, running away from Novella.

In a few minutes, my backyard came back into view and we stopped at the same time. Colt galloped toward the gate (probably eager to sniff the stiff), and Carson called him back with a sharp whistle.

I stared at the house, wondering if Mrs. Harris was still inside or if Mama had shooed her away.

“Now what do we do?” I asked, shielding my eyes from the blazing sun.

“Well, now we need to check online to see if anyone fitting his description has been reported missing in the last few days,” Carson informed me as he pulled Colt’s leash out of his back pocket and snapped it on. “It could be the repairman, like you said.”

“How are we gonna do that?” I asked, staring at the back of my house like it was a scene from a horror movie. I wasn’t sure I voluntarily wanted to go inside again.

“It might have been in the paper. Can we use the Internet at your house to check out the police blotter?” Carson asked.

I shook my head vehemently. I definitely didn’t want to go home and face Mama, with or without Carson.

“How about your house? I’m sure your daddy doesn’t hang all over you like Mama does to me.”

Carson shook his head. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to use an ex-cop’s computer to track a murdered person.”

“Well, we don’t know he was murdered,” I point out, my defensive feathers ruffled. Of course, I knew deep down I was wrong. This reeked of murder.

My phone buzzed and I sighed as I dug it out of my pocket for the bazillionth time, expecting it to be Mama calling me again. This time, it was Lindy. It was a text, with a picture. I squinted to see the picture, but the glare from the sun made it impossible. I cupped my hand around the phone and enlarged the screen shot. I gasped as I saw what Lindy had sent me. It was the racy novel I had been reading, along with the scrap of paper I had tucked inside. The text said,
I bet you don’t want Carson to see THIS.
She actually used proper English this time.