In Hell: When Love Kills A Small Town Mystery

Chapter 25

"Incredible," she said. "Can you imagine what it was like when it was first built? It looks like something from a movie set. Unreal."

The mansion was a throwback from the past – too large to heat, too big to maintain, and a statement that shouted 'big ME and little u.' The house was by no means falling to pieces, but it had seen better days. Jaded. Worn. Ragged about the edges. Those would have been the words that came to Lori's mind, had she given it any thought. Cash kept the old truck moving, past the main house and farther down the property.

"Used to be kept off this place," he muttered. "That was when they could afford staff. You had to speak into a box at the main gate, and a uniformed man checked to make sure your name was on his list. Now, we just breeze on through."

Lori looked out her window.

"Nothing now like it was in its heyday. Clifford said this place sat on two thousand acres. A lot of the land's been sold off over the years to make ends meet, I suppose. Now, I hear it's down to a couple hundred. They rip the timber off before they let it go though. That Dixie's one sharp cookie when it comes to a buck. Edgar's about as dull as a rock compared to Dixie."

"Who's Edgar?" Lori asked.

"Ah. Got your attention. Let me guess. He has you under his spell, I'll bet."

"What the hell are you talking about, Cash?"

"Edgar Dupree Ashlon III. Deck, as he prefers to be called. Her real name is Evelyne Devine, by the way. Dixie's her nickname."

Lori looked confused.

"Dixie and Deck," Cash said. "Fine names that ooze good breeding. Don't you think?"

"I think," said Lori, "Edgar sounds like something out of a Noir film."

"Addams family, maybe."

Lori laughed.

"Nice car."

"Deck Ashlon's."

"I like his bike, but this is really special," said Lori.

"Deck gets all the best toys. Even now."

Cash knocked on the door of a small guest house on the property.

"Go away. No salesmen." Deck said, opening the door. His mouth was full. "Oh, I was just having a sandwich. Plenty here. Might as well join me."

Deck put his hand around Lori's waist.

"Feeling better, I hope?"

"Not really," she said.

He kissed her lightly on the cheek.

"Come. Get some food into you. Both of you."

Cash and Lori thanked him.

"You two eat like starving waifs," Deck said. "I'm not making fun, mind you."

Cash drained his beer.

"Now, Cash Matstock," Deck said, "you must be pretty desperate. Are you running from the law? I hear you spent some time in jail."

"News travels fast," Cash said.

"Only one night," Lori spoke up. "Your little town can't stand vagrants."

Deck's laugh was like the sound of a thousand clear bells. Lori squirmed in her seat.

The door of the guest house burst open. A tall, slim woman with a nest of elegantly coiffed hair stormed into the room. It was hard to tell her age, fifty or seventy. Her makeup was immaculate, and she carried herself with the air of an aristocrat.

"I cannot trust you for an instant," she screamed. "The second I take my eyes off you, you are carousing and doing God knows what right here in my home. I've told you, and I mean it, keep your trash off this property."

"Sister, dear. Calm down. You'll pop a cork."

Deck seemed unconcerned by the dramatic display of emotion pouring out in his kitchen.

"Dixie, we were just enjoying a bite to eat. Won't you join us?"

Dixie looked at Deck like he'd asked her to dine on elephant waste from a plastic teaspoon.

"Certainly not," she said.

Lori's head was down. She looked like a small child who wanted to disappear from the scene. Cash studied the woman. Deck Ashlon walked among the mere mortals often. He was a bit of a rogue and had a reputation that mortified Dixie. As Dixie fumed, Deck smiled radiantly and took her delicate hand.

"Why my love, watch out. With that look on your face, you'll scare these two mice to death. Where are your manners? Allow me to introduce my lunch guests. This is Lori ... ah, Lori. And this fine specimen of tattooed manhood is ... Well, you know Cash."

Cash took Lori's arm and both stood up. The locket he'd been fiddling with flopped out on the front of his tee shirt. For a split second, the porcelain veneer fell from Dixie's face. She swayed as if the room was spinning. Just as quickly, she recovered her composure.

"You heard me," Dixie said in a soft, steely tone, "I want these vermin removed from the premises immediately."

Dixie stormed out of the room.

"Ignore her," Deck said. "She's got a cattle prod up her ass when it comes to keeping up appearances. Huh, it was probably your shabby truck parked outside that set her off. She's a bit tipsy. Hope she's not going for the shotgun just to make her point."