Leftover Dead Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Acknowledgements

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-one

  Twenty-two

  Twenty-three

  Twenty-four

  Twenty-five

  Twenty-six

  Twenty-seven

  Twenty-eight

  Twenty-nine

  Thirty

  Recipes from the Kountry Kitchen

  Praise for the Trailer Park Mysteries

  “Down the mean streets of Tullahoma, Mississippi, one waitress must go. Wanda Nell Culpepper, armed only with a deep sense of right and wrong and her own flaming temper, must protect her three children and her precarious financial situation against powerful enemies . . . A down-home treat.”—Charlaine Harris

  “If you like rural Southern culture, or just need a break from the bustle of the big city, you should stop in at the Kountry Kitchen for some coffee. I’m sure we’ll be stopping back next time we’re passing through.”

  —Gumshoe Review

  “Wanda Nell Culpepper is a steel magnolia to cherish. This heartwarming mystery will win legions of fans.”

  —Carolyn Hart

  “A solid regional amateur-sleuth tale that uses the backdrop of the rural South to provide a fine who-done-it . . . Jimmie Ruth Evans provides a wonderful Mississippi mystery that stars a fabulous protagonist, a delightful eccentric support cast that brings Tullahoma—especially the diner and the trailer park—alive, and a surprising final peck.”

  —Midwest Book Review

  “The Southern cozy at its best . . . delightfully constructed, carefully plotted, and written with sparkle and warmth.”

  —ReviewingTheEvidence.com

  Berkley Prime Crime titles by Jimmie Ruth Evans

  FLAMINGO FATALE

  MURDER OVER EASY

  BEST SERVED COLD

  BRING YOUR OWN POISON

  LEFTOVER DEAD

  THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP

  Published by the Penguin Group

  Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA

  Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario M4P 2Y3, Canada

  (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.)

  Penguin Books Ltd., 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

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  (a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty. Ltd.)

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  (a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd.)

  Penguin Books (South Africa) (Pty.) Ltd., 24 Sturdee Avenue, Rosebank, Johannesburg 2196,

  South Africa

  Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  PUBLISHER’S NOTE: The recipes contained in this book are to be followed exactly as written. The publisher is not responsible for your specific health or allergy needs that may require medical supervision. The publisher is not responsible for any adverse reactions to the recipes contained in this book.

  LEFTOVER DEAD

  A Berkley Prime Crime Book / published by arrangement with the author

  PRINTING HISTORY

  Berkley Prime Crime mass-market edition / January 2009

  Copyright © 2009 by Dean James.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  For information, address: The Berkley Publishing Group,

  a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.

  eISBN: 9781101397084

  BERKLEY® PRIME CRIME

  Berkley Prime Crime Books are published by The Berkley Publishing Group,

  a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.

  BERKLEY® PRIME CRIME and the PRIME CRIME logo are trademarks of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  http://us.penguingroup.com

  Though she’s half the world away in Bahrain,

  Jan Spearman Giles nevertheless manages to offer

  the kind of support and encouragement that keeps me

  going when I think I can’t go another step.

  You’re amazing, Jan, and every time I see your name

  pop up in my e-mail in-box, I just start smiling.

  Thank you for that.

  Acknowledgments

  My editor, Michelle Vega, and my agent, Nancy Yost, helped make a very difficult year easier to get through, and I thank them for their support and understanding. It means more than you can ever know. Carolyn Haines is also there, whenever I need a shoulder to lean on. Tejas Englesmith, Julie Wray Her-man, and Patricia Orr are always ready with encouragement and support when I need it. My amazing boss, Leah Krevit, has made the day job a joy, and I can’t thank her enough for the opportunities she’s given me.

  One

  Wanda Nell yawned and stretched, enjoying the luxury of a Saturday morning spent in bed. Now that she had only one job, working the lunch and dinner shifts Monday through Friday and every other Saturday at the Kountry Kitchen, she had more time to relax and pamper herself a bit. She turned on her side and reached for Jack, wanting to snuggle, but his side of the bed was empty.

  Disappointed, Wanda Nell rolled over and peered at the clock on the nightstand. Nearly nine o’clock. Jack should be back soon. She sat up, pushing the covers aside. She stretched again before getting out of bed and padding barefoot into the bathroom. She splashed some cold water on her face, and as she wiped the moisture away, she caught sight of the ring on her left hand.

  “Good morning, Mrs. Pemberton,” she said, her voice soft. She smiled at her reflection in the mirror. She and Jack had been married for six weeks now, and most mornings, she wanted to pinch herself to make sure it wasn’t a dream.

  A few minutes later, housecoat securely fastened and house shoes on, she went down the hall to the kitchen. The trailer was quiet around her. Jack had left over an hour ago, headed for the high school where he taught, to make use of the track. He had started running again, determined to shed some of the pounds he had gained over the past year or so from all the meals he had eaten at the Kountry Kitchen.

  Juliet, almost sixteen now, had spent the night with one of her friends and wouldn’t be home until sometime that afternoon. Ever since the wedding Juliet had been spending Friday nights away from home, with her best friend
, with her grandmother, or with her sister, Miranda, and her new husband, Teddy. Wanda Nell appreciated Juliet’s thoughtfulness, allowing her and Jack some time completely alone on the weekends.

  Miranda and Teddy had been married two weeks before Wanda Nell and Jack, and ever since Miranda and her son, Lavon, had moved out, Wanda Nell had missed them. The good Lord only knew how aggravating Miranda often was, and how many battles Wanda Nell had waged trying to get her older daughter to do the simplest of household chores. Wanda Nell didn’t miss that part, but she did miss seeing her grandson every morning and listening to his lively and imaginative conversations, usually directed at his stuffed rabbit.

  Sighing, Wanda Nell grabbed the cereal box out of the cabinet, found a clean bowl and spoon, and set them all on the kitchen table before getting the milk from the fridge. She ate her breakfast slowly, thinking about the day ahead. School would be starting in a few weeks, and before Jack got snowed under with grading papers and dealing with his students, she wanted him to have some time to relax and have fun. He had been talking about writing another book, and Wanda Nell was proud of his accomplishments. He had published two moderately successful true crime books, and now he was itching to start another one.

  Wanda Nell didn’t want him pushing himself too hard, between teaching high school English and researching and writing a new book, but she had begun to realize how important writing was to her new husband. Because it was so important, she would do whatever she needed to do in order to support him.

  She was rinsing out her bowl in the sink when she heard the front door of the trailer open. “I’m up, honey. In the kitchen,” she called out.

  Before she finished drying the bowl, she felt strong arms slip around her waist and warm lips brush the side of her neck.

  She leaned back against her husband for a moment, luxuriating in the feeling. “Mmm, you sure do smell good.” She turned in his arms and looked up into his face.

  Jack’s eyes glowed behind the lenses of his rimless glasses. His brown hair was still slightly damp from the shower he had taken at school. “I didn’t want to come back all hot and sweaty,” he murmured. His lips sought hers, and they kissed for a while.

  Wanda Nell finally pulled away, more than a little breathless. “Where did you learn to kiss like that? Just what kind of loose woman did you date before you met me?” She pretended to be annoyed.

  “All it takes is the right inspiration,” Jack said with a wicked grin. “I never even wanted to kiss a woman like that until I met you, love.”

  Laughing, Wanda Nell pushed against his chest. “It’s lucky for you I like having you around, otherwise I wouldn’t put up with that kind of talk.”

  “We don’t have to talk.” Jack pulled her closer. “If you know what I mean.”

  Wanda Nell agreed.

  Sometime later, once again in the kitchen, Wanda Nell scrambled eggs while Jack made toast. They grinned at each other when they sat down at the table to eat. Neither spoke until they had finished, and Jack got up from the table to fetch two glasses and a pitcher of orange juice from the fridge.

  After filling the glasses, he sat down and raised his glass. “To marriage.”

  Wanda Nell lifted her own glass and touched it to her husband’s. “Amen to that. I never thought I’d see the day when I’d get married again.”

  “I’m glad you did. Otherwise, I might have had to kidnap you and run off with you somewhere till I could talk you into it.”

  Shaking her head at his nonsense, Wanda Nell tried to suppress a smile. At some point they would get over this giddiness and goofiness, but for now, they were both determined to enjoy every single second of being newlyweds.

  “How was your run?”

  “Good. My knees are holding up, and I’m up to three miles now. At this rate, I should be pretty comfortable with five miles a day by the time school starts next month.”

  “I probably ought to be out there with you,” Wanda Nell said, thinking ruefully of her thighs. “I could stand to lose a few pounds, too.”

  “If you want to, you know you’re welcome to come along. Chasing you around that track would give me even more incentive.” He leered at her.

  “Oh, behave.” Wanda Nell tried not to laugh. She stood up and started gathering the remains of their late breakfast—or early lunch, she noted as she glanced at the clock. It was almost eleven.

  Jack got up to help her. “I’ve got something interesting to tell you,” he said, putting the juice away. “I think I’ve found what I want to work on for the new book. It just fell into my lap, so to speak.”

  “This morning? Because you sure didn’t say anything about it last night.” Wanda Nell turned on the hot water to rinse their plates and utensils before putting them in the dishwasher.

  “I didn’t know about it last night. There I was this morning, doing my stretches before I started my run, and old Gus showed up.”

  “The custodian? You mean he’s still there?”

  “Yeah, he is, but this coming school year is going to be his last. Can you believe it? He’s been custodian at the high school for forty-seven years now.”

  “How old is he?” Wanda Nell asked. “Surely he’s old enough to retire.”

  “He said he’d be sixty-six by the time he retires next spring, so he must have been about eighteen when he started the job.”

  “That’s really something,” Wanda Nell said, impressed. “I hope to goodness they do something real nice for him when he retires.”

  Jack shrugged. “With our school board, who knows?” He took the plates from Wanda Nell and put them in the dishwasher.

  “So how did Gus give you an idea for a book?” Wanda Nell dried her hands, wrung out the dishrag, and draped it across the faucet before going back to the table to sit down.

  “I guess he was just in one of those moods,” Jack said, pulling her chair out for her. Once she was seated, he sat down, too. “Thinking about retirement, and thinking about the things that have happened at that school during the time he’s worked there.”

  “What could have happened there that would be make a true crime book?”

  “I was surprised, too,” Jack admitted, “because I’d never heard the story until Gus told me. He said they found a girl dead on the football field thirty-one years ago, and the case was never solved.”

  Wanda Nell frowned. “I don’t remember that at all. I mean, I was only about eleven or twelve then, but I can’t recall hearing about it.”

  “Gus said there was a big uproar for about a week, and then it just kind of faded away. Which is pretty strange, but Gus said he figured some big shot in town was probably involved, and it just got hushed up.”

  “Wouldn’t surprise me a bit, not in this town.” Wanda Nell paused for a moment. “Mayrene might know something about it. She almost always does, and she would have been in her twenties.”

  Mayrene Lancaster, who lived in the trailer next door, was Wanda Nell’s best friend. Thanks to her job at Tullahoma’s most popular beauty shop, Mayrene heard all the gossip in town that was worth hearing. She wasn’t shy about sharing it with Wanda Nell, either.

  “Was she in Tullahoma then?” Jack asked. “I thought she told me once she’d been here only about twenty years.”

  “Yeah, you’re right. I’d forgotten that.” Wanda Nell grinned. “She still might know something about it, though. The things she hears, you wouldn’t believe sometimes.”

  “I definitely want to talk to her, then. Gus couldn’t tell me many of the details, except that he did remember the girl was a complete stranger in Tullahoma. Nobody knew her or where she came from.”

  “At least not that they’d let on,” Wanda Nell said. “She had to be in town for some reason, unless whoever killed her was just driving through and decided to dump her body here. But why on the football field, of all places? Seems to me, if I wanted to get rid of a dead body, I wouldn’t be putting it somewhere like that, where it would be found right away.”

  “Th
at’s one of the things that really intrigues me,” Jack said. “It does seem stupid on the killer’s part, but it makes me wonder whether somehow it isn’t important to why she was killed or who killed her.”

  “Maybe.” Wanda Nell shrugged. “But there don’t seem to be much to go on.”

  “Not at the moment, but surely there were police reports and articles in the paper, if nothing else.”

  “You could always ask Elmer Lee,” Wanda Nell said. Elmer Lee Johnson, for a long time Wanda Nell’s nemesis, was the sheriff of Tullahoma County. “He’s only a year older than me, though, so he might not remember anything, either. But maybe he could look through the files at the Sheriff’s Department.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind, but he might be touchy about that. Since there’s no statute of limitations on murder, the case is still technically open. He might not want someone like me having access to that kind of information. Plus I don’t think he’s all that fond of me.”

  Wanda Nell thought it wise not to respond to that last sentence. Elmer Lee had been a bit odd around Jack ever since he heard that Wanda Nell was getting married again. Even though he had come to the wedding, he hadn’t stuck around for the reception. T.J., Wanda Nell’s son, had told her more than once that Elmer Lee was carrying a torch for her, but Wanda Nell had never been sure. She had come to respect Elmer Lee, and sometimes she almost liked him, but she could never imagine being attracted to him.

  One thing Jack said didn’t register at first, but then the full implication of it hit her.

  “If the case is still open,” Wanda Nell said, frowning, “that means the killer could still be around here somewhere.”

  “Yes,” Jack said, “although in thirty-one years, who knows what could have happened?”

  “Even if the killer isn’t around,” Wanda Nell said, “somebody might still not be happy if you go poking around. Didn’t Gus say the case got hushed up, more or less?”