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

A woman with perfectly straight, perfectly tinted blond hair, and super white teeth leaned over her husband, her coral tank top sliding to reveal a matching bra strap.
    “Are you Peri Jean Mace? Of the Mace Treasure?”
    “No.” I spun around and jogged up the walk. I got to the door and realized I’d forgotten Amanda’s towels. I sure as hell didn’t want to go back for them. I knocked on the door, and Esther Bruce opened it.
    “What’s going on out there?”
    “Tourists. Mace Treasure.” I pulled out my cigarettes, took in Esther’s ick face, and put them away.
    “It’s like a TV show to them. We aren’t even real people. My advice? Ignore it.” She motioned me inside, closing the door behind me, and pulled me into a gentle hug, which I returned just as gently to make sure I didn’t make her injuries flare up.
    “How are things?” I gestured at her hip, which seemed to give her the most trouble.
    “Quite well. I’m trying a new therapy. It’s given me some relief.” Her smile seemed less forced than when I saw her last. I hoped the treatment continued to help.
    “What’s the therapy?” I knew nothing about medicine but thought it polite to ask.
    Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open, but she recovered quickly and smiled again. “One of those new age type things. Your grandmother’s the one who told me about it.” Her shoulders cranked up nearly to her ears, and her jaw clenched. She obviously didn’t want me to ask any more about her therapy.
    “Hooty’s expecting me.”
    “Oh, he sure is. They’re back in his study.” She led me through the antique-filled foyer and living room. The ugly limp she picked up with her injury was absent, and she moved faster, even kneeling to pick up a piece of paper from the floor. What is this mystery treatment? We walked down a short hallway off the living room and she tapped on a closed door.
    “I saw her drive up.” Hooty’s deep voice floated through the door. “Peri Jean, come on in.”
    Esther patted me on the shoulder and got away from me before I could ask her more about her miracle healing. I made a mental note to ask Memaw what treatment she was taking and hoped it wasn’t a regimen of expensive vitamins. I opened the door to a roomful of people. Should have known Eddie would bring out the heavy artillery.
    Hannah sat in a leather chair leafing through a huge book. Rainey Bruce, Hooty and Esther’s daughter, sat in a stiff, carved wooden chair next to the bay window. Eddie, head lowered and scribbling in one of his many notebooks, took up most of the loveseat. Hooty half rose from behind a paper-piled desk.
    “Do you want coffee? Or a cool drink?” He gestured at a restored Art Deco bar, which held a coffee maker with a full pot of coffee.
    “Don’t do it,” Eddie said. “He buys the cheap shit. Apparently, his congregants and his customers from the funeral home don’t rate the good coffee.”
    Hooty doubled up one fist and shook it at Eddie, but he wore a smile. I went to the mini-fridge and took out a bottle of water. Hooty motioned me toward a Victorian-style, high-backed chair upholstered in lilac velvet, roses carved into its rosewood trim.
    “Let’s get down to business.” Rainey checked the slim watch on her wrist. “I’ve got paperwork to finish before Dean’s campaign barbecue tonight.”
    A sharp reminder I had to get my poop together before the barbecue kicked me in the chest. Sour acid oozed into my stomach and burned. I dug into my pocket, found a roll of antacids and crunched one.
    “Pressure getting to you, short stuff?” Rainey’s steel gaze flicked over me and amusement lit her face. “Get used to it. When he wins, you’ll be in the public eye all the time.”
    I ate another antacid.
    “Rainey.” Hooty stared down his daughter who turned her gaze to her expensive, high-heeled shoes. He turned to speak to me. “Hannah said you have some inside knowledge about the loss of our family