Page 76 of Rest In Pink

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll make sure I’m there when she shows up,” I told him and drove home to my bedroom where there were stockings tied to my bookcase.

I kind of wanted to talk everything over with Liz, wanted to sort it all out and then just bury myself in her and forget this fucked-up day.

I looked around the Big Chef, perfect for me, too small for two people.

Nothing I could do about that right now, so I crawled into bed between the stockings and fell asleep and dreamed of five-button jeans.

TUESDAY

Posted on BurneyCommunityNews on Facebook, Tuesday 9:00 AM:

I am told that information can be set to post ahead of time, which is why our internet harasser still posts even though he’s dead, RIP. I’m sure his awful posts will stop soon.

Thank you, Faye Blue, Page Administrator Pro Tem

Posted on BurneyCommunityNews on Facebook, Tuesday 9:30 AM

Good News! There Are Dogs In Heaven

Hello, from beyond the grave! You probably heard about my death from smoke inhalation at the aptly named Shady Rest. Well, sucks to be you, Mystery Arsonist who killed me, purgatory has WiFi.

Stay tuned for more shocking answers and more thought-provoking questions, as well as updates from behind the veil. Here’s good news: There are dogs here so you’ll meet your canine buddies in the afterlife. Bring treats. You can still go to BurneySecrets&Lies at ThomasThacker.online and pre-order the forthcoming tell-all e-book on Burney but since the manuscript has not accompanied me to the afterlife, you will probably be disappointed.

Chapter Thirty-Four

I drove the Gladiator to Ken Porter’s office first thing in the morning because if there was anyone who had his finger on the pulse of the town, besides Jill at JBs and Patsy at Porter’s, it was Ken, the biggest realtor in Burney and the surrounding area and one of the smartest guys anywhere. I wanted to know who’d bought the Shady Rest and whatever else he could tell me before meeting Rain later this morning.

Despite being earlier than normal business hours, Ken’s immaculate teal blue Tesla was parked in the small side lot next to his office on main street, hooked to what I believe was the only charging outlet between Cincinnati and the hinterland beyond Burney. The shades were down in the front window and the door was locked when I tried it. I knocked lightly on the glass. Ken appeared, nodded at me and unlocked, ushering me in, not locking the door behind me. He was in the Porter mold: tall, thick dark hair and boyishly good-looking. He dressed better than anyone else in Burney, wearing a suit that, when I asked him where he got it, told me was bespoke, like it was no big deal. I’d had to look that up and it wasn’t something I’d be doing any time soon.

Ken went behind his desk and sat down, indicating the plush chairs in front of it. “Is this about the Shady Rest?”

Like I said, Ken was smart. “Yeah. And other things.”

Ken nodded. “I heard George is on the hot seat.”

“The Mayor is gunning for him,” I admitted.

“He’s been after George ever since the election run-off between the two of them fifteen years ago. Does George still blame Liz for that?”

“Nope. They’ve made up.” I didn’t add that George had recently found out that Molly had put Liz up to it and that Ken’s brother Cash had put Molly up to it. Good old Cash, always making sure somebody else paid. “You’d think O’Toole would be over that election by now. Hell, he won.”

“I know. But he’s of the Gore Vidal school: ‘It’s not enough that I succeed. Others must fail’.”

“Vidal sounds like an asshole,” I said. “Was he a politician?”

“Writer. Intellectual. But, yeah, he could be an asshole.”

“This time George is really worried,” I said. “I think Senator Wilcox is behind it. We’ve got a new detective on the force, Brandon Bartlett. George thinks Wilcox wants this kid to replace him.”

A line furrowed Ken’s brow. “I didn’t know about that.” He leaned back in his chair as it sunk in. “Yeah. George is right to be worried.”

“What’s going on, Ken? George was muttering things about Burney disappearing the other day. And it wasn’t just him missing the good old times. And now we’ve got Mickey Pitts back in town and things are burning. And somebody’s buying up the town?”

Ken looked past me at the door, then stood. “Come here.” He led me through an inside door to a back room. A large map of Burney and the surrounding area covered one wall just like the one we had at the station. Except this one was coded with a kaleidoscope of color delineating every lot. There were lots of pins with little tags on them stuck in it. It extended all the way to the outskirts of Cincinnati and south along the river.

“Geez,” I said. “How long did this take you?”

“Tom Drucker did it before I even interned here,” Ken said, referring to his former business partner who’d passed away. “It’s out of date now, but I keep it because it reminds me of Tom and it’s a piece of Burney history.” He turned down the lights and pointed at the other wall which was painted white. “Watch. This is Burney today.”

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