Rocks & Gravel (Peri Jean Mace Ghost Thrillers Book 3) Read Online Free

with Miss Leticia if you ever need a break,” she said. “We worked together over at the high school together all our adult lives. It’d be just like a slumber party.”
    “Thank you, Miss Hazel. I’ll sure keep it in mind.” Problem was, Hazel lived at a nursing home because she couldn’t care for herself. I turned to Amanda. “You still got a job for me?”
    “I do.” She patted my back. If I hadn’t known better, I’d have said it was congratulations for pulling myself together. She led me into a side room, which held a washer and dryer. Piles of towels littered the floor. “You can do this however you want, but I need them out of here ASAP and washed today.”
    I knelt on the floor and began gathering towels, pushing them into a canvas bag I’d spotted hanging on the wall. Amanda leaned against the door frame and watched me.
    “I never realized you and Barbie had issues.”
    “I didn’t realize you and Barbie were such close friends.” I finished loading the towels and slung the bag over my shoulder.
    “We aren’t.” The lines around Amanda’s eyes deepened into what would have been a smile had her mouth not remained still. “When she lived here, she came to me for haircuts. Came in here for a perm the day she left town. Never said a word about moving away.” She moved away from the door. “Come on. I’ll open the door for you and help you get them into your car.”
    I waddled through the shop, mulling over what Amanda said. It rang true in my ears. Maybe Barbie didn’t really make friends. Too self-absorbed? Too conniving?
    “What’s she doing in here?” The raspy, squeaky voice jabbed into my thoughts like sharp ice.
    I dropped the towels on the floor and turned to face its source, even though I knew exactly who’d spoken.
    Felicia Brent Fischer Holze smirked at me from underneath her red-streaked mousy hair. She’d smeared oddly colored makeup over her angular features, and her gut had grown considerably since I’d last seen her. Either she’d made good friends with after-work beer drinking or she was pregnant again. I didn’t care which it was. All I cared about was not doubling up my fist and hitting her with it. I got away with beating up my childhood tormentor once. It wouldn’t happen again. She was married to a sheriff’s deputy, and her father-in-law was the sheriff of Burns County. I had a feeling I wouldn’t escape prosecution if I hit her.
    “What’s around your neck?” She took a few steps toward me and plucked the black opal from my shirt.
    “Don’t touch me, Felicia.” I tightened my grip on the canvas bag holding the towels.
    “Is it a substitute for an engagement ring on your finger?”
    I turned my back to her and stood in front of the door. Amanda appeared next to me and held it open. She held my elbow as I took the step down onto the stoop.
    “He’s gonna lose, Peri Jean,” Felicia sang after me. “Are y’all going to live out there in your Memaw’s house and be jobless together?”
    “That’s enough, Felicia. We have customers.” Amanda’s voice brooked no argument. She followed me out of the shop.
    “Thanks for ignoring her,” she said when we reached my old Nova. “She’s a good stylist, brings in a lot of clientele, but sometimes I could wring her neck.”
    “I’m glad I’m not the one who has to work with her.” I handed Amanda the keys and let her pop the trunk.
    “Sometimes you have to work with people you don’t like because of who they’re related to.” Amanda stared at the Nova and ran her hand over the flank. I hefted the canvas bag into the trunk and closed it.
    “I ever tell you how cool I think it is for you to drive your daddy’s car?” Amanda stared at the street, eyes unfocused and misty. She didn’t seem to expect an answer, so I didn’t bother thinking of one. “Paul Mace. Your daddy was the best looking guy in town. He’d rev up the engine on this baby, and you could hear him a mile away.” The corners of her