Tequila Mockingbird (Book 7) Read online

  Tequila Mockingbird

  A Harley & Davidson Mystery Series (Book 7)

  Liliana Hart

  Scott Silverii

  To our family at the House of Prayer in Thibodaux, Louisiana. Thank you for showing us what unconditional love looks like.

  Contents

  Other Books In Series

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Epilogue

  You Make A Difference

  Sneak Peek: Gone With The Wind

  Also by Liliana Hart

  Also by Scott Silverii

  About Liliana Hart

  About Scott Silverii

  Copyright © 2019 by Liliana Hart & Scott Silverii

  All rights reserved.

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  Published by 7th Press

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  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Check Out The COMPLETE List Of Books & Learn More About Your AUTHORS

  * * *

  The Harley and Davidson Mystery Series

  The Farmer’s Slaughter

  A Tisket a Casket

  I Saw Mommy Killing Santa Claus

  Get Your Murder Running

  Deceased and Desist

  Malice in Wonderland

  Tequila Mockingbird

  Gone With the Sin

  Chapter One

  Tuesday

  The first hints of fall blew in with a bite, the leaves shivering on the trees and the clouds fighting to hide the sun. But for Agatha Harley, October brought melancholy and other emotions she wasn’t entirely comfortable dealing with. Her parents had been married in October some sixty years before. And they’d died in October a decade ago.

  She’d missed her jog that morning, and instead, lingered under the covers until the scent of coffee she’d timed to brew the night before had lured her into the kitchen. She’d slept in gray sweats and thick fuzzy socks in orange and white stripes, and she’d shuffled out onto the front porch to drink her coffee and try to get her thoughts under control.

  Hank had messaged her asking if she’d wanted company. He’d remembered. And despite having that tough guy exterior and an intimidation factor that could scare people away at twenty paces, he had a sweet heart. But she hadn’t wanted company. Her mood called for solitude.

  The caffeine began to clear the fog from her mind, and she tried to think of business instead of her parents. She owed her literary agent an answer on the offer she’d gotten for a movie option for her next book, which wasn’t even finished yet. At one point in her life, this part of her career would have been exciting, but her heart just wasn’t in it.

  The sun chose that moment to peek around the clouds, and Agatha put her hand up to block it from her eyes. She was thinking of Hank, wondering if he was sitting on his back porch like he liked to do in the mornings, and wondered if she shouldn’t pay him a visit. Or it would be even better if he completely ignored her request to be alone and showed up at her place.

  “Good morning.”

  Agatha startled and looked around the tall hedges at the corner of the house where the voice had come from. White dots danced in front of her eyes from the sun’s brightness, so she couldn’t make out who it was.

  “Hank?” she asked.

  “Oh, no dear,” a voice said with a tinkling laugh. “It’s me. Edna Merth from next door.”

  Edna Merth was a fixture in Rusty Gun. There was no telling how old she was, but she was probably only a generation or two removed from the original settlers. She’d lived in the little blue and white Craftsman home since before her parents had married.

  “You okay, honey?” Edna asked, moving unsteadily over the uneven ground until she stood in front of Agatha.

  She was short—maybe five feet tall—and almost as round as she was tall. Her hair was thick and white, and she wore it in a bun on top of her head. Agatha had never seen her without an apron on. Today’s was lemon yellow with bright red cherries on it.

  “I’m okay, Ms. Edna,” Agatha lied. “I’m just enjoying the weather.” And the solitude, she added silently.

  “Shouldn’t you be out for your morning run?” Edna asked, resting her hands on her round belly. “I do enjoy watching you whiz by in the mornings. Your outfits are always so colorful. We couldn’t wear things like that in my day. Especially not in Rusty Gun. Always were a bunch of nosy hypocrites in this town.”

  Agatha raised her brows at that. In her lifetime, she’d maybe had a handful of conversations with Edna Merth, and nothing deeper than the surface of a casual hello or how’s the weather. Edna had always been very active in the community, but progressing Alzheimer’s over the past decade had left her withdrawn and secluded.

  “I’ll try to get a run in tonight,” Agatha said. “I just wasn’t feeling up to it this morning.

  Edna clicked her tongue and nodded solemnly. She had a full-time nurse who stayed with her, and Agatha peeped around Edna’s girth to see if anyone else had followed Edna into the yard. But it was just Edna. All by herself.

  “Ms. Edna, does Darleen know you’re outside?”

  “I’m supposed to be napping,” she said with considerable mischief in her eyes. “I always take a nap after breakfast and my meds, but I just pretended this morning. Sometimes I do that. Darleen likes to nap after breakfast too while she’s watching Price is Right.”

  Agatha’s lips twitched, but she knew it wasn’t a laughing matter. Edna seemed just fine right now, but that wasn’t always the case.

  “You know Darleen will be worried half to death if she wakes up and sees you gone,” Agatha said.

  Did you know Jim Brown killed his wife and buried her?” Edna said, plucking at the little red berries that grew on the bushes next to the house.

  “Ahh,” Agatha said, looking again for Darleen to appear. “Jim Brown from the hardware store?”

  Edna looked around to see if anyone was watching, and then lowered her voice to a whisper. “Oh, yes. He walks his dog every night and goes to visit her. Carol was a nice woman. Kind of quiet, but very polite any time I went to the hardware store. He must feel a lot of guilt, I think.”

  “I thought that was just a rumor,” Agatha said.

  Edna had started humming to herself, and she was picking the little red berries and putting them in her apron pocket.

  “I remember their wedding,” she said.

  “Jim and Carol’s?” Agatha asked.

  Edna’s face went completely blank with confusion. “Who are Jim and Carol?” she asked. “Your parents, dear. They had a lovely wedding.”

  Agatha’s mouth went dry. She didn’t know how they’d gone from talking about Jim Brown killing his wife to her parent’s wedding, but there they were. And how odd for Edna to touch on something that had been so heavy on her heart all morning.

  They were so young and in love,” Edna added with a soft sigh. “I’m sorry for your loss. They were wonderful people.”

  She felt the tears welling in her eyes, so she buried her face in the oversized coffee cup she held and inhaled the warmth.

  “I know you miss them,” Edna continued. “
Emory and Elaine were wonderful to have as friends and neighbors, even though Tom and I were old enough to be their parents. I can imagine they were even better to have as parents.”

  Agatha flinched at the touch of gentle fingers on her shoulder.

  “They were,” Agatha said, her voice catching. She was an introvert—a solitary person by choice—but it was rare she felt as lonely as she did today.

  “I didn’t mean to intrude,” Edna said. “But I knew today was the anniversary of their terrible accident, and I wanted to tell you how special they were.”

  “I hadn’t even realized it was today,” she said. “And yes, they were very special. I appreciate you coming over to tell me. It means a lot. I don’t know why it’s hitting me so hard this year.”

  “I lost my Thomas over twenty years ago, and I still have bad days. There are days I miss him so much I can still smell his scent in the house, or the way the mattress dipped when he got into bed. Grief is a strange and terrible thing. But it’s important to grieve. It’s healthy.”

  Agatha scooted over on the porch step so Edna could wedge in next to her.

  “I’m sorry you still hurt over him, Ms. Edna.” And Agatha could see that her mind was clear as a bell as she remembered her husband.

  “Tom was my one true love,” she said, her smile nostalgic. “He never cared a lick for all the gossips or busybodies, or the things people said. He always loved me. No matter what.”

  “That’s sweet,” Agatha said. “And very special. You’re a lucky woman.”

  Edna looked at her and she could tell in an instant that whatever clarity she’d had was long gone.

  “Yes, it was a lovely wedding, dear. The whole town was there. And I’ll never forget what Pastor Ebenezer Schrute said during the ceremony.”

  “What was that?” Agatha asked. She noticed Darleen had come out of the front of the house with a frantic look in her eyes, and then gave a visible sigh of relief when she saw Edna sitting on the porch with Agatha.

  “Never be afraid to be the one who loves the other the most,” Edna said.

  “Makes sense,” Agatha said. “I can see why people might be afraid to love if losing them hurts that bad.”

  “But worth it,” Edna said, giving her a sweet, child-like smile. “You’re a sweet girl, Elaine. You’d better go check on the baby. I think I hear her crying.”

  “Elaine?” Agatha said, her mouth going dry as dust.

  “Ms. Edna,” Darleen called out. “You know you’re not supposed to leave the house without telling me. Now come on back. You missed your nap, and you’ll be tired this afternoon when we go to the grocery store.”

  “I enjoyed our chat,” Edna said, hefting her weight up off the stairs. “Bring that sweet baby over later if you get a chance.”

  Agatha watched as she went back to her house and introduced herself to Darleen as if it were the first time, and her eyes stung with the sadness of it all. Her thoughts were jumbled as she finished her coffee, but she kept going back to what Edna had said about Jim Brown killing his wife. Maybe that was worth looking into a little deeper. Just in case.

  Chapter Two

  Hank Davidson dropped the kickstand on his Harley Davidson in front of Agatha’s house, and pumped the accelerator twice so the big, V-twin engine called out to her. He shifted in the comfortable leather saddle and smiled, just enjoying being free and out in the open air for a ride. Riding had quickly become his favorite pastime. It was when his head cleared and he could really think.

  The curtain moved in Agatha’s front window, her face came into view, she grinned and waved, and then disappeared from the window. She ran out the front door in her standard work uniform of yoga pants and a sweatshirt, and came up to greet him with a kiss. He could get used to Agatha’s kisses. That was definitely something he needed to think about on his ride today.

  He killed the engine so they could hear each other talk.

  “You working?” he asked.

  “Not really,” she said. “Just making notes and daydreaming ideas for the most part.”

  Hank knew how the month of October affected Agatha. Sometimes he thought she didn’t even realize why her mood darkened or she was more emotional than usual. But he knew from experience that sometimes the body knew things the brain didn’t yet recognize.

  He took a closer look at her, and there was a sadness there, but there was also something else. “You’ve got that look in your eye,” he said accusingly. “You’re working on something.”

  She was practically jumping up and down with excitement. “What do you know about Jim Brown?” she asked.

  “The hardware guy?” Hank asked. “Not much. I’ve seen him around, and I bought an electric drill from him a few months ago. But I don’t officially know him.”

  “Come on, Hank,” she said. “You always have your ear to the ground. You probably know more about the people who live in this town than I do, and I’ve been here my whole life. You’ve got that cop nosiness.”

  “I beg your pardon,” he said, sitting up straight on the motorcycle. “I’m not nosy. I’m aware.”

  Agatha rolled her eyes. “Well, what are you aware about Jim Brown?”

  “I know he walks his dog every night, and he lets him poop in my rose bushes,” Hank said.

  “That’s it?” she asked, clearly disappointed. “Nothing about his wife and murder?”

  “He has a wife?” Hank asked.

  “Had a wife,” she said. “Apparently, she left him about ten years ago, and no one has seen her since.”

  “Because of my astute detective skills, I’m going to assume the murder you mentioned somehow plays into this?”

  “That’s always been the rumor,” she said. “No one just gets up and walks away from Rusty Gun and their entire family without making contact. I think something funny went on there. The gossip was big the first couple of years after she disappeared, but people forgot. So did I.”

  “But now you’ve remembered and are interested, why?”

  “Because my neighbor paid me a visit today.”

  “Edna?” Hank asked. “I’ve never seen you talk to her before.”

  “For Pete’s sake, Hank,” she said. “She’s lived next to me my whole life. Of course I’ve talked to her. But her Alzheimer’s has gotten so bad I rarely see her outside. She snuck out this morning, otherwise I would’ve missed a very enlightening conversation.”

  “Yeah,” Hank sighed. “She’s gotten bad about slipping by Darleen lately. She needs to do a better job of keeping up with her, but Darleen is no spring chicken. Edna likes to come pick my roses and put them in her apron pocket. She’s a sweet lady. And I’m going to assume she’s the one who got you all riled up about Jim Brown killing his wife?”

  “I’m not riled up,” she said. “I’m just interested. I think it’s worth checking out.”

  “You want to investigate a murder based on information you got from an eighty-something year old woman with Alzheimer’s?”

  “Her memory isn’t all the way gone,” Agatha insisted. “She had several moments of clarity today, including that today was the day my parents died.” She hesitated at that and he felt like a jerk. Here she was trying to find something—anything—to keep her mind off her parents and he was ruining it for her.

  He reached out to put his hand on her shoulder, but she moved back a step.

  “Look,” he said. “If there were rumors all those years ago, maybe it’s something worth looking into again. It shouldn’t take much to be able to dig up her case file if she was reported as missing.”

  She stared at him for several seconds, and he was completely unsure what the look she was giving him meant. He’d never been good at deciphering the silent codes of women, and Agatha was very complex.

  “Fine,” she said. “Let’s see what we can find out. If Jim Brown killed his wife, he’s been flaunting it right in front of our noses for ten years. And if Edna’s right, then you can be the one to tell her you didn’t believe he
r.”

  “Agatha,” Hank said, shaking his head. “She needs to be in a home. Let’s just play this out, and see where it leads us. Want to go for a ride? It’s the perfect weather for it.”

  “No,” she said. “I’m good. I’m not great company today.” She leaned over and kissed him again, and then hurried back inside the house. Hank waited until she was inside and had locked the door behind her before he started up the engine again. He had a lot of thinking to do, and a lot of highway ahead of him.

  Chapter Three

  Wednesday

  Agatha had skipped another morning’s run in hopes that she’d see Edna again. She bundled onto the front porch with her coffee, and this time she’d brought out a little plate of muffins in case her neighbor paid her a visit.

  There was no movement that she could see in the little house next door, and she frowned and drank her coffee, wondering if she should just drop in and pay Edna a visit. She turned her head to look down the street at Hank’s house, and almost spilled her coffee in her lap when Edna popped out at her.

  “Agatha,” she said, her cheeks rosy with the cold. Her apron this morning was bright red with little cornucopias on it, and the pockets were filled with Hank’s roses. Agatha’s mouth twitched before she could help it.

  “Good morning, Edna,” she said. “Did you go out without Darleen again?”

  “Oh, posh. I know this neighborhood like the back of my hand. Darleen worries too much. Have some roses.”