Diana Anderson - Entering Southern Country 01 - Famous in a Small Town Read online

  Callie considered herself a socialite now since she was married to an upstanding doctor. Of course, a few old hags at the country club still snubbed her.

  Old money. Callie smirked.

  They probably still had worthless confederate dollars in their bank accounts and up their asses. Most had accepted her or at least polite enough to pretend. Southern hospitality still lived and breathed in the state of Mississippi.

  After a year of numerous phone calls, the ladies had given up on their quest for her to participate in their charitable events. She didn’t have time for that. Who, in their right mind, would want to waste their precious time stuffing envelopes or have a telephone receiver stuck to their ear for hours at a time while they begged for donations to charities, such as feeding starving children in foreign countries? From what she’d seen on the television, every country in the world had a McDonald’s, and everybody knows McDonald’s had a dollar menu.

  Just how hard can it be to scrounge up a dollar?

  Their other charitable events included the Toys for Tots program.

  Has anyone heard of the Dollar Tree? Hello?

  And the annual save a pet drive, which was an effort to save a pet from being euthanized. If it was any kind of real pet to begin with, nobody would want to get rid of it. The way she saw it, if the animal wasn’t worth keeping, who would want it anyway? And the one charitable event that baffled her the most was their organization to help the homeless. They took up clothing, food, and monetary donations and gave it to the local homeless shelter. Why her Dior clothing, Jimmy Choo stilettos, Gucci handbags, and Versace lingerie would be a total disaster on a homeless person.

  Nobody would take them seriously. The money would be wasted on drugs and alcohol, so why bother? Besides, if you give them money, there is no incentive for them to get a job. And food is available at McDonald’s. There’s a McDonald’s on every corner. How hard can it be to find food?

  She had survived all of her life by fending for herself. If she could do it, anyone could. She was a perfect example of how to succeed in life without a high school diploma. Her parents instilled that in her at a young age.

  If you want something bad enough in this life, you’ll find a way to get it.

  She had better things to do with her time. It took an hour and a half out of her week just to get a mani-pedi and another hour at the beauty salon to get her roots bleached. And then the shopping trips to Memphis—that’s at least two hours round trip not counting the time it takes to get from boutique to boutique.

  Her parents had lived in a double-wide trailer on a few acres of land out in the country. Her father had owned a used car lot in town until the IRS had taken everything—business, property, and trailer. He had failed to pay income taxes for eight years. They’d moved to a trailer park on the outskirts of town. He’d spent his final days in front of the television with a bottle of whiskey in his hand. At the end, he had drunk himself to death. Her mother collected his life insurance, went to Vegas, and lost it all. She then had taken up drugs and baby-sitting. When one of the mothers found a blunt in her child’s diaper bag, she informed the sheriff’s department. They raided her home and found the two back bedrooms had been turned into greenhouses. She was then arrested for drug possession, child endangerment, and marijuana cultivation with the intent to sell.

  Callie hadn’t the time or energy to visit her mother while she was incarcerated. The one time she had driven down to Rankin County to visit her mother, all her mother did was whine and complain about the living conditions and how miserable and alone she felt.

  “Well, that’s what prisons are for, to make one’s life miserable,” Callie had told her.

  Two years later, her mother had committed suicide. She had hung herself.

  Callie had never been close to either of her parents. She had been an only child, and both her parents had been strict on her. They had demanded respect. How could she respect a used car salesman and a mother who had thought ‘General Hospital’ was real? Every day, Callie had come home from school to find her mother in tears over Dr. Steve Hardy and Jessie Brewer or whatever the latest disaster was in Port Charles. However, when Bobbie Spencer came on the Port Charles scene, that was what had gotten Callie’s attention. Callie couldn’t wait to get home to learn more of what not to do to get ahead in life. Although she and Bobbie had similar ambitions, Callie was more than willing to sacrifice anyone or anything to get what she wanted. She’d had a few minor set backs, but it had been well worth the wait.

  A splash from the other end of the pool brought her head up. Her ankles were gripped, and she was plunged underneath the water. Strong arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her against a firm body. Their heads popped up above the surface. Hot lips covered her mouth. His tongue forced apart her lips and played with her own. She wrapped her legs around his waist and felt his erection. She moaned when he released their kiss. He trailed his lips down her neck to her breast and lapped his tongue over her taut nipple protruding through her bikini top. She dropped her hand down into the water and pulled the strings at the sides of her bikini bottoms. The flimsy material floated to the surface. His strong legs maneuvered them to the edge of the pool. He braced one hand on the pool’s edge and the other on her bottom. His mouth covered hers again.

  “Mrs. Wallace?” Maggie called from the patio door. “Dr. Wallace is on the phone.”

  Salvador’s head popped up.

  “Dammit! I’m busy,” Callie yelled, “Take a message.”

  She gripped his shoulders. “Don’t stop,” she breathed.

  Maggie rolled her eyes and went back inside.

  4

  Sheriff Cal Rayburn came into his office with a rolled up newspaper tucked under his arm and a mug of coffee in his hand. He took off his beige Stetson, tossed it on his desk, and ran his fingers through his short, sandy blonde waves. He sat down in his chair, slid some paperwork over, and took his first morning sip of tar he’d poured from the blackened carafe in the kitchenette. He made a face, set his mug down, and unrolled the newspaper. The headline read, “Ground Breaking for the Wallace Wing Scheduled Today.” He skimmed over the brief story, tossed the paper aside, picked up his mug, and took another sip. He grimaced and set the mug back down on his desk. Deputy Justin Ledet favored stout chicory coffee, but Cal didn’t care for the concoction.

  Cal had enlisted in the Marines after he’d graduated four years of college. He had joined the Marines to get away from painful memories, but the painful memories had followed him. After he had done a tour in Afghanistan, he returned home. His mother had convinced him to run for sheriff. At twenty-seven years of age, he was elected and had been sheriff of Laurel County for almost three years.

  The door to his office opened, and the deputy poked his head inside. “We going to man the ground breaking?” Justin asked with a noticeable Cajun drawl.

  Justin and his wife had lived in Cypress, Mississippi for two years. It had been his mother’s hometown when she was a child. All through his childhood and teenage years, she had talked so much about its beauty that he had decided to visit. Upon arrival, he and his wife had fallen in love with the area, the town, and the town’s people, so they had made the decision to move there.

  It hadn’t taken Cal long to approve Justin’s application for deputy. He’d come on excellent recommendation. He’d had three years experience as well as a tour of duty in Afghanistan while enlisted in the Army. Justin was four years younger than Cal, but he was one of the most dependable deputies at the Laurel County Sheriff’s Department.

  Cal looked at Justin a moment, shook his head, and said, “I doubt there’ll be a need for it unless you just want to go.”

  “Not me. Just thought I’d ask.” He ran fingers through his coal black hair as he stepped on into the doorway and looked at Cal.

  “What’s on your mind?” Cal swiveled his chair away from his desk, leaned back, and clasped his fingers together behind his head.

  Justin stepped inside an
d pushed the door closed behind him. He adjusted his holster on his hip, and then crossed the room, and stood in front of the desk. “There were a couple of Mexicans staying over at Deluxe Inn.”

  “So. There’s Mexicans everywhere these days.”

  Justin shook his head. “Not like these.”

  “And what’s so special about these two?”

  “They were wearing suits like they were going to a funeral.” He placed his hands on his hips and pressed his lips together.

  “Maybe they were.”

  “Nah. Don’t think so. Gaylene told me this morning at the diner that she saw them toting a large case into their room last night during her shift at the Inn. Said it was big enough to carry weapons.”

  “Gaylene’s working there now?”

  “Yeah, she started a few months ago.”

  Cal removed his hands from behind his head, glanced down at the paperwork piled on top of his desk, and then looked back up at Justin. “Check it out.”

  “Can’t. They checked out before the sun came up this morning.”

  “What were they driving?”

  “She said a black Jaguar.”

  “She get a license plate?”

  Justin shook his head. “She gave me a description of the two though. Said one was tall, muscular and … I’m just repeating what she said here … handsome as hell. The other short and, here again her description, delicate.”

  “Have you cruised through town?”

  “Yeah, nothing.”

  Cal shrugged. “Maybe they’re long gone.”

  “Maybe, but why’d they show up here?”

  “We’re right off the interstate. Lots of folks show up here.”

  “Well, I’ve never seen anyone around here, let alone a Mexican, driving a new Jaguar. And she said it was brand spanking new. So I’m thinking with that kind of money, why would anyone stay at the Inn? It’s not high class.”

  Cal swiveled his chair back around to face his desk. He considered all he had told him, but there wasn’t anything that could be done about it. “Keep an eye out, and I’ll do the same.”

  “Uh, sir?”

  Cal looked up at him.

  Justin grinned. “Christine and me, well, we’re going to have a baby.”

  A smile spread across Cal’s face. “That’s the best news I’ve heard in a long while. Congratulations to both of you.”

  Justin beamed. “Thanks. Well, I best get back to work.”

  “When’s the due date?”

  “She’s four months along. We’re looking at the middle of December.”

  “Great! I’m happy for y’all.”

  He nodded at Cal and then left the room. Cal picked the newspaper back up and flipped through the pages as he looked for the sports section.

  5

  Callie walked with a slight pigeon toe over to the refrigerator, opened the door, and took out a bottle of water. She stepped over to the counter, leaned back against it, and twisted off the cap. She took a long swallow and smiled at Salvador through the plate glass window across the room. He was bare from the waist up. She watched his muscles across his back move as he trimmed the hedges. His long black hair was secured with an elastic band at the nape of his neck. A trickle of sweat trailed down his spine. He was her Latin sex god.

  She turned, set her bottle down, and glanced at the notepad beside the telephone. Her mouth gaped as she read it.

  “Maggie?” she called out. She glanced around the spacious kitchen and noticed the housekeeper had already begun to prepare lunch. Lettuce, tomatoes, and cucumbers were on the center island. She turned on her heel.

  “Maggie?” She walked past the breakfast nook and headed into the den. She didn’t see her. “I swear!”

  She gave up the search and hurried up the stairs to her bedroom. She flung open her closet doors and hurried inside. Several dresses on hangers slid across the bar until she found one suitable.

  Thirty-five minutes later, she exited her Mercedes. She was still a tad shook up from the drive across town, because she’d almost rear-ended another car at a stoplight while she applied her makeup. She hurried across the grassy lawn and caught herself before she could twist her ankle. Her four inch heels sunk into the soft turf. She raised herself up on tiptoe and scurried toward the group of journalist and photographers. She elbowed her way through the crowd.

  “Excuse me, please. Pardon me. Coming through,” she said as she tried to catch her breath. She stood on the outskirts and scanned the group of doctor’s and wives, and businessmen, and businesswomen until she spotted Ted. She sashayed over to his side.

  His pale blue eyes looked down at her. “Caldonia, what took you so long? We’ve been waiting over thirty minutes for you,” he said in a low voice.

  “I’m sorry, darling. I was feeling rather poorly this morning, and thought I was going to have to call you and tell you to go ahead without me. I apologize.”

  He scanned her face with concern. “What’s wrong? Are you all right?”

  She reached up and ran her fingers through his white hair and then kissed his lips. “I’m fine now. Just that time of the month.”

  Lying came easy for Callie. She had perfected it over the years, and it had proved profitable. Of course, she’d had a few set backs early on with her scheming. She had gotten pregnant at the age of sixteen. Her daddy had toted a shotgun over to the sperm donor’s place and hauled his and her asses down to the courthouse. But then, four months later, she was relieved when she’d miscarried. She had stayed married to the bum for close to twenty years. She’d had to find employment because the lazy bastard refused to work. She had cleaned the houses of a few of the wealthiest families in Laurel County. She had ended up pregnant again two years into their marriage. That had paid off well. She had come into some money, bought some land, and put a new trailer house on it, and had a source of income for twenty-some-odd years. She’d found that using her body was just as effective as lying.

  She tilted her head and smiled for the photographers.

  6

  Angus Rayburn slammed the door closed to his wall safe. The second time he’d looked in there that morning.

  Like it’s going to reappear.

  He adjusted the large picture frame over it.

  A hell of a lot of good that’s going to do now.

  He stomped over to the mini bar, snatched up the crystal decanter, and poured a straight shot of Tennessee’s finest. He downed it, poured another, and walked over to the large window that overlooked the estate. He took another gulp and knew if he didn’t calm down he was apt to have a stroke, but he didn’t know how to calm down at that point. Nobody had ever double-crossed him. Sure, he’d had some trouble in the past, but nothing a few dollars couldn’t cure. How he’d gotten screwed this time was an unusual mistake on his part. He blamed himself for being swayed by that Mexican beauty. Tiny thing but she was hot. His loins tightened at the thought. He’d forgive her treachery if he could get his hands on her and get what she’d stolen from him, and then he’d put a bullet between her eyes.

  Bitch!

  He caught sight of his reflection in the window and wondered how he’d let himself get so out of shape. His paunch of a belly hung over the waistband of his dress slacks. What used to be thick, dark brown hair had turned to salt and pepper and at the hairline had thinned at the speed of light.

  He caught movement on the other side of the window. His brown eyes darkened even more as he watched a crow land on a branch of a large white oak outside his window. It cawed as if to warn him of some impending doom.

  “You’re a little late for that,” he said and then took another sip of his drink.

  The door opened behind him. “Angus?”

  The crow took flight. He turned toward the door. Suzanne stood at the doorway with a pleasant smile on her face.

  No brains but always that stupid smile.

  Unlike Angus, Suzanne had kept her figure. She was a petite woman and carried herself well.

 
She stepped inside. “Lunch is ready, dear.”

  He downed the last of his drink, walked over to the mini bar, and set down his glass.

  “You seem troubled,” she said. “Mavis prepared your favorites. I thought it’s so pleasant outside that we could have lunch on the lanai.”

  Lanai? It’s a freakin’ patio.

  But who was he to argue? He’d married into old money but tried to be patient with the frail, ignorant excuse for a woman for fear he’d lose it all. He ran a hand over his thick waist and adjusted his shirt into the waistband of his dress slacks. He tromped past her, out of the study, and down the hallway toward the French doors to the lanai. He went outside and sat down at the table. His wife sat down across from him, took her cloth napkin, shook it out, and then spread it across her lap. She looked at him and her permanent smile widened.

  “It’s so good to have lunch with you today. I’m glad you weren’t too busy to join me,” she said.

  He glanced at her vacant amber eyes. He swore she wasn’t home and hadn’t been in over twenty-five, maybe thirty years, since they’d lost the baby to crib death. She kept her long black hair dyed in its original color to cover the gray, and she wore it in a French twist. The only time she’d ever let her hair down was before she crawled into bed. He hadn’t bothered to run his hand up one of her floor length nightgowns the past several years. As far as she knew, he was impotent. He could have told her that his dick had fallen off, and she would have responded, “Oh dear, that’s terribly dreadful.” She’d never seemed to be bothered by lack of sex. She spent all of her energy on fundraisers for various organizations pertaining to children. The rest of the time she tended to the confounded flower beds and rose gardens on their property and at the park in Cypress. She wouldn’t let the gardener tend to hers like most women of her status.