Morgan James - Promise McNeal 01 - Quiet the Dead by Morgan James Page A

invested in Granny’s than I am. I hated to think how much more difficult my life would be if she were not there. “I like your idea. I could deliver too. It would give me a chance to meet more of my neighbors. When I get back let’s work out the details.”
    “Great. Hold on a second. I gotta ring up somebody.”
    I could hear her in the background now. “Five seventy-three, please. Yes, Sir, just stay on this road, highway twenty eight north, and look for the sign on the right, about three miles. You can’t miss it.” Susan picked up the phone and continued. “It seems like everybody today needs directions. I feel like asking them didn’t they see the chamber of commerce building when they came through town. Hey, maybe we should start carrying maps for sale. How was your meeting with Mr. Wang? Are you going to be able to make him a happy camper?”
    Trying to condense the forty-two different directions my mind was traveling on the road to Garland being a ‘happy camper’ seemed too difficult, as tired and frustrated as I felt at the moment. I opted to give Susan the details later. “Well, probably, I guess. There are a few loose ends that are bothering me, though. That’s where I need your help. When you get home could you look something up on the Internet for me? I haven’t gotten satellite service at my house yet, so no internet.”
    “Well sure, Miz P. I don’t mind to.”
    Now I was confused. Her reply, ‘don’t mind to,’ was another one of those mysterious mountain idioms. Was that a yes, or no? “Susan, does that mean you will do it?”
    “Well, yeah, Miz P., that’s what I just said.”
    “Okay, thanks. Have you got a pen?”
    “Oh crap, here comes Luther Goss. I’m just going to put the phone down here on the counter till I see what he wants.” I was clueless as to who this Luther Goss person was, and had no choice other than to wait, and listen to Susan’s conversation. A male voice said something not understandable in an unmistakable hillbilly twang, and then Susan’s voice bellowed through the phone. “I done told you about a hundred times, Pinky, the Goddard twins sold out. We don’t sell what you are looking to buy. Just go on home and sober up?”
    Goss yelled, “I mean it woman, get on back there to where they keep the good stuff and bring me a bag, or I swear to God, I’ll kill you dead!”
    The next sound I heard was a loud whack, like a walnut being cracked, then a scream, and the male voice. “Shit! You done broke my fingers. I’m gonna sue your ass!”
    “Go ahead, sue. I don’t care if you do. You come around here again making threats and I’ll break more than your sorry lazy fingers. Now get the hell out of here. I told you, we are out of the homegrown business.” There was a pause, and then Susan spoke again. Her voice was calmer. “You pitiful fool. You know I’ll call Sheriff Mac as soon as you walk out that door.”
    I heard the bell on the store’s front door jingle and Susan pick up the phone. Her voice was a lot more composed than I felt, just listening to the exchange between her and the Goss person. “Can you believe that Luther Goss? Comes in here drunk trying to threaten me with a stupid Wal-Mart water pistol. He must think I am about as dumb as a dirt pile, or one of his….”
    “Susan, Susan,” I interrupted. “What happened? What was that cracking noise? Are you hurt?”
    “I’m fine. Just let me take a couple of deep breaths.” She exhaled into my ear. “I’m just royally pissed at Pinky.” I counted three more audible breaths, and she continued. “Well, what happen was, Luther, aka Pinky, Goss– who was nicknamed Pinky in high school for reasons we do not want to go into right now, or ever , because I can assure you I have never seen, nor do I ever want to see, any of his hidden body parts—just stumbled in here insisting I sell him some pot. I tried to tell him those days are over. Fool’s all tanked up—pulled a little plastic