Thirty-Three and a Half Shenanigans
Page 90

“Something’s not right, Neely Kate,” I said after a moment, a shiver running down my back.
“I know.”
But we’d come this far, so there was no turning back now. “Let’s just look around to see if we can find something tying him to Mason.”
“Like a journal entry that says, ‘Dear Diary, I’m gonna kill the Assistant District Attorney today’?” Neely Kate asked sarcastically.
“Very funny.” Only it wasn’t. Hearing her say the words terrified me. “I don’t know. Just keep an open mind. Maybe we can find out something that will help us with Dolly Parton too.”
“Okay.”
“You look out here, and I’ll check the bedroom.” I took off down the dark hall and pushed open a door to reveal a guest room that was surprisingly tidy, considering the state of the front part of the trailer. I left it and passed the bathroom before pushing open the door to what I guessed to be the master bedroom. Feet planted in the doorway, I stared inside with disbelief.
Billy Jack lay in his bed, fully clothed, with a bloody hole in his forehead, his hand gripped in a fist.
“Neely Kate . . .” I called out to her.
“Just a minute. I think I found something. Nope . . . nope, I didn’t.”
“Neely Kate,” I said more insistently, still staring at Billy Jack’s face. His eyes were wide open.
“I just found Billy Jack’s porn stash. Disgusting.”
“Neely Kate!” I yelled.
“What?”
“I found Billy Jack.”
“What?” She was behind me within seconds. “Oh my God! Is he . . . ?”
“Dead? Yeah. We have to get out of here.” I spun around and pushed Neely Kate toward the living room as I dug out my cell phone.
“Who are you callin’?” she asked.
“Joe. He’s bound to listen now.” He didn’t answer, and it went to voice mail. I immediately called him back, and he answered after the first ring, sounding irritated. “Are you calling to complain about Abbie Lee?”
“No. I’m calling because Billy Jack’s dead.”
“Billy Jack?” he asked in confusion. “Who’s Billy Jack?”
“Dolly Parton’s boyfriend.”
“My condolences.”
“Joe! Listen to me! We just found him in his bed with a bullet hole in his forehead.”
“What? Where’s Abbie Lee?”
I cringed. This wasn’t going to go well. “I lost her somehow. And Neely Kate and I went back to talk to Dolly’s boyfriend.”
“How’d you get in the house?”
“The door was open.”
“Uh-huh.”
I sighed. “Believe me or not, you need to send someone out here.”
“If you’re still inside that house, get out and wait in the truck. What’s the address?”
I rattled off the address Neely Kate gave me as we walked to the front porch.
“You stay put,” Joe said. “Someone’s on the way.”
Neely Kate’s face was pale, and she looked like she was going to pass out. “I’ve never seen a murdered body before.”
I didn’t want to stop and think about how many I’d seen.
“Why was his hand in a fist like that?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know. It looked like he was holding something.”
Her eyes widened. “We have to find out what it was.”
I released a sigh. She was right. “You sit here on the steps and wait for me.” I was surprised she didn’t argue, but she just sank down on the steps while I turned around and headed back inside.
I was scared to death as I crept up on Billy Jack’s body, especially because I felt like his dark, cold eyes were staring up at me. I kneeled on the mattress next to him and leaned over and tried to see what was in his hand. I wasn’t stupid enough to pry it out—it was evidence—but maybe I could get a look at it. It was a business card. I gasped when I realized what business it was for.
Gems. That couldn’t be good. I tried to read the other print on the card, but it was crumpled in Billy Jack’s fist.
I hurried to the front door and gulped big lungfuls of air.
“Could you see it?” Neely Kate asked. I was thankful her face had more color.
“It was a business card. For Gems.”
“What does that mean?”
“I don’t know, but the fact that he’s holding it in a literal death grip has to mean something.” I grabbed Neely Kate’s arm and tugged. “Come on. Let’s get you out of the cold.”
I made sure she got into the truck, then walked around to the driver’s side, catching a glimpse of cardboard on the backseat. “Dolly Parton’s box. We plum forgot about it.”
I opened the back door and lifted the lid off the box.
“What are you looking for?”
“Something to tie this together.” I started riffling through the mess, finding clothes, some makeup, a toothbrush, and a book. Stuck to the paperback romance novel was a post-it note with a phone number.
I gasped and looked up into Neely Kate’s face.
“What did you find?”
“This.” I held up the paper.
“A phone number. Should we call it?”
“We don’t have to,” I said, feeling nauseated. “I know who it belongs to.”