A Ghostly Murder (19 page)

“I think we got 'er!” John Howard stood up in the cab of the digger with pride on his face as he looked down in the hole. “Yep! That's it!” he hollered over the roar of the running motor.

Jack Henry ran over and hooked some cables on the excavator and gave the thumbs-­up.

Pastor Brown dipped his head and moved his lips in a silent prayer. Granny nudged me with her boney elbow to bow my head, and I did. Marla Maria cried out.

“Aw shut up!” Chicken Teater told her and smiled as he saw his coffin being raised from the earth. “They are going to figure out who killed me, and so help me, if it was you . . .” He shook his fist in the air in Marla Maria's direction.

Curiosity stirred in my bones. Was it going to be easy getting Chicken Teater to the other side? Was Marla Maria Teater behind his death as Chicken believed?

She was the only one who was not only in his bed at night, but right by his deathbed, so he told me. I took my little notebook out from my back pocket. I had learned from Ruthie's investigation to never leave home without it. I jotted down what Chicken had said to Marla Maria, with prize chickens next to it, followed up by a lot of exclamation points. Oh . . . I had almost forgotten that Marla Maria was Miss Kentucky in her earlier years—­a
beauty queen
—­I quickly wrote that down too.

“Are you getting all of this?” Chicken questioned me and twirled his finger in a circle as he referred to the little scene Marla Maria was causing with her meltdown. She leaned her butt up against Lady Cluckington's stone. Chicken rushed over to his prize chicken's gravestone and tried to shove Marla Maria off. “Get your—­”

Marla Maria jerked like she could feel something touch her. She shivered. Her body shimmied from her head to her toes.

I cleared my throat, doing my best to get Chicken to stop fusing and cursing. “Are you okay?” I asked. Did she feel him?

Granny stood there taking it all in.

Marla crossed her arms in front of her and ran her hands up and down them. “I guess when I buried Chicken, I thought that was the end of it. This is creeping me out a little bit.”

End of it? End of what? Your little murder plot?
My mind unleashed all sorts of ways Marla Maria might have offed her man. That seemed a little too suspicious for me. Marla buttoned her lip when Jack Henry walked over. More suspicious behavior that I duly noted.

“Can you tell me how he died?” I put a hand on her back to offer some comfort, though I knew she was putting on a good act.

She shook her head, dabbed her eye and said, “He was so sick. Coughing and hacking. I was so mad because I had bags under my eyes from him keeping me up at night.”
Sniff, sniff
. “I had to dab some Preparation H underneath my eyes in order to shrink them.” She tapped her face right above her cheekbones.

“That's where my butt cream went?” Chicken hooted and hollered. “She knew I had a hemorrhoid the size of a golf ball and she used my cream on her face?” Chicken flailed his arms around in the air.

I bit my lip and stepped a bit closer to Marla Maria so I couldn't see Chicken out of my peripheral vision. There were a lot of things I had heard in my time, but hemorrhoids were something that I didn't care to know about.

I stared at Marla Maria's face. There wasn't a tear, a tear streak, or a single wrinkle on her perfectly made-­up face. If hemorrhoids helped shrink her under-­eye bags, did it also help shrink her wrinkles?

“Anyway, enough about me.” She fanned her face with the handkerchief. “Chicken was so uncomfortable with all the phlegm. He could barely breathe. I let him rest, but called the doctor in the meantime.” She nodded and waited for me to agree with her. I nodded back and she continued. “When the doctor came out of the bedroom, he told me Chicken was dead.” A cry burst out of her as she threw her head back and held the hanky over her face.

I was sure she was hiding a smile from thinking she was pulling one over on me. Little did she know this wasn't my first rodeo with a murderer. Still, I patted her back while Chicken spat at her feet.

Jack Henry walked over. He didn't take his eyes off of Marla Maria.

“I'm sorry we have to do this, Marla.” Jack took his hat off out of respect for the widow.
Black widow,
I thought as I watched her fidget side to side, avoiding all eye contact by dabbing the corners of her eyes. “We are all done here, Zula.” He nodded toward Granny.

Granny smiled.

Marla Maria nodded before she turned to go face her waiting public behind the police line.

Granny walked over to say something to Doc Clyde, giving him a little butt pat and making his face even redder than before. I waited until she was out of earshot before I said something to Jack Henry.

“That was weird. Marla Maria is a good actress.” I made mention to Jack Henry because sometimes he was clueless as to how women react to different situations.

“Don't be going and blaming her just because she's his wife.” Jack Henry was trying to play the good cop he always was, but I wasn't falling for his act. “It's all speculation at this point.”

“Wife? She was no kind of wife to me.” Chicken kicked his foot in the dirt John Howard had dug from his grave. “She only did one thing as my wife.” Chicken looked back and watched Marla Maria play the poor pitiful widow as Beulah Paige Bellefry, president and CEO of Sleepy Hollow's gossip mill, drew her into a big hug while all the other Auxiliary women gathered to put in their two cents.

“La-­la-­la.” I put my fingers in my ears and tried to drown him out. I only wanted to know how he was murdered, not how Marla Maria
was
a wife to him.

“She spent all my money,” he cursed under his breath.

“Shoo
.” I let out an audible sigh.

Over Jack's right shoulder, in the distance some movement caught my eye near the trailer park. There was a man peering out from behind a tree looking over at all the commotion. His John Deere hat helped shadow his face so I couldn't get a good look, but I chalked it up to being a curious neighbor like the rest of them. Still, I quickly wrote down the odd behavior. I had learned you never know what ­people knew. And I had to start from scratch on how to get Chicken to the great beyond. I wasn't sure, but I believe Chicken had lived in the trailer park. Maybe the person saw something, maybe not. He was going on the list.

“Are you okay?” Jack pulled off his sunglasses. His big brown eyes were set with worry. I grinned. A smile ruffled his mouth. “Just checking because of the la-­la thing.” He waved his hands in the air. “I saw you taking some notes and I know what that means.”

“Yep.” My one word confirmed that Chicken was there and spewing all sorts of valuable information. Jack Henry was the only person who knew I was a Betweener, and he knew Chicken was right here with us even though he couldn't see him. When I told him about Chicken Teater's little visits to me and how he wouldn't leave me alone until we figured out who killed him, Jack Henry knew it to be true. “I'll tell you later.”

I jotted down a note about Marla Maria spending all of Chicken's money, or so he said. Which made me question her involvement even more. Was he no use to her with a zero bank account and she offed him? I didn't know he had money.

“I can see your little noggin running a mile a minute.” Jack bent down and looked at me square in the eyes.

“Just taking it all in.” I bit my lip. I had learned from my last ghost that I had to keep some things to myself until I got the full scoop. And right now, Chicken hadn't given me any solid information.

“You worry about getting all the information you can from your little friend.” Jack Henry pointed to the air beside me. I pointed to the air beside him where Chicken's ghost was actually standing. Jack grimaced. “Whatever. I don't care where he is.” He shivered.

Even though Jack Henry knew I could see ghosts, he wasn't completely comfortable.

“You leave the investigation to me.” Jack Henry put his sunglasses back on. Sexy dripped from him, making my heart jump a few beats.

“Uh-­huh.” I looked away. Looking away from Jack Henry when he was warning me was a common occurrence. I knew I had to do my own investigating and couldn't get lost in his eyes while lying to him.

Besides, I didn't have a whole lot of information. Chicken knew he was murdered but had no clue how. He was only able to give me clues about his life and it was up to me to put them together.

“I'm not kidding.” Jack Henry took his finger and put it on my chin, pulling it toward him. He gave me a quick kiss. “We are almost finished up here. I'll sign all the paperwork and send the body on over to Eternal Slumber for Vernon to get going on some new toxicology reports we have ordered.” He took his officer hat off and used his forearm to wipe the sweat off his brow.

“He's there waiting,” I said. Vernon Baxter was a retired doctor who performed any and all autopsies the Sleepy Hollow police needed and I let him use Eternal Slumber for free. I had all the newest technology and equipment used in autopsies in the basement of the funeral home.

“Go on up!” Jack Henry gave John the thumbs-­up and walked closer. Slowly John Howard lifted the coffin completely out of the grave and sat it right on top of the church truck, which looked like a gurney.

“Do you think she did it?” I glanced over at Marla Maria, as she talked a good talk.

“Did what?” Granny walked up and asked. She turned to see what I was looking at. “Did you dig him up because his death is being investigated for murder?” Granny gasped.

“Now Granny, don't go spreading rumors.” I couldn't deny or admit to what she said. If I admitted the truth to her question, I would be betraying Jack Henry. If I denied her question, I would be lying to Granny. And no one lies to Granny.

In a lickety-­split, Granny was next to her scooter.

“I'll be over. Put the coffee on,” Granny hollered before she put her helmet back on her head, snapped the strap in place, and revved up the scooter and buzzed off in the direction of town, giving a little
toot-­toot
and wave to the Auxiliary women as she passed.

Once the chains were unhooked from the coffin and the excavator was out of the way, Jack Henry and I guided the coffin on the church truck into the back of my hearse. Before I shut the door, I had a sick feeling that someone was watching me. Of course the crowd was still there, but I mean someone was watching
my
every move.

I looked back over my shoulder toward the trailer park. The man in the John Deere hat popped out of sight behind the tree when he saw me look at him.

I shut the hearse door and got into the driver's side. Before I left the cemetery, I looked in my rearview mirror at the tree. The man was standing there. This time the shadow of the hat didn't hide his eyes.

We locked eyes.

“Look away,” Chicken Teater warned me when he appeared in the passenger seat.

 

A GHOSTLY DEMISE

The prodigal father returns—­
but this ghost is no holy spirit

When she runs into her friend's deadbeat dad at the local deli, undertaker Emma Lee Raines can't wait to tell Mary Anna Hardy that he's back in Sleepy Hollow, Kentucky, after five long years. Cephus Hardy may have been the town drunk, but he didn't disappear on an epic bender like everyone thought: He was murdered. And he's heard that Emma Lee's been helping lost souls move on to that great big party in the sky.

Why do ghosts always bother Emma Lee at the worst times? Her granny's mayoral campaign is in high gear, a carnival is taking over the Town Square, and her hunky boyfriend, Sheriff Jack Henry Ross, is stuck wrestling runaway goats. Besides, Cephus has no clue whodunit . . . unless it was one of Mrs. Hardy's not-­so-­secret admirers. All roads lead Emma Lee to that carnival—­and a killer who isn't clowning around.

 

 

C
ephus Hardy?”

Stunned. My jaw dropped when I saw Cephus Hardy walk up to me in the magazine aisle of Artie's Meat and Deli. I was admiring the cover of
Cock and Feathers,
where my last client at Eternal Slumber Funeral Home, Chicken Teater, graced the cover with his prize Orloff Hen, Lady Cluckington.

“I declare.” A Mack truck could've hit me and I wouldn't have felt it. I grinned from ear to ear.

Cephus Hardy looked the exact same as he did five years ago. Well, from what I could remember from his social visits with my momma and daddy and the few times I had seen him around our small town of Sleepy Hollow, Kentucky.

His tight, light brown curls resembled a baseball helmet. When I was younger, it amazed me how thick and dense his hair was. He always wore polyester taupe pants with the perfectly straight crease down the front, along with a brown belt. The hem of his pants ended right above the shoelaces in his white, patent-­leather shoes. He tucked in his short-­sleeved, plaid shirt, making it so taut you could see his belly button.

“Momma and Daddy live in Florida now, but they are going to be so happy when I tell them you are back in town. Everyone has been so worried about you.” I smiled and took in his sharp, pointy nose and rosy red cheeks. I didn't take my eyes off him as I put the copy of
Cock and Feathers
back in the rack. I leaned on my full cart of groceries and noticed he hadn't even aged a bit. No wrinkles. Nothing. “Where the hell have you been?”

He shrugged. He rubbed the back of his neck.

“Who cares?” I really couldn't believe it. Mary Anna was going to be so happy since he had just up and left five years ago, telling no one—­nor had he contacted anyone since. “You won't believe what Granny is doing.”

I pointed over his shoulder at the election poster taped up on Artie's Meat and Deli's storefront window.

“Granny is running against O'Dell Burns for mayor.” I cackled, looking in the distance at the poster of Zula Fae Raines Payne all laid-­back in the rocking chair on the front porch of the Sleepy Hollow Inn with a glass of her famous iced tea in her hand.

It took us ten times to get a picture she said was good enough to use on all her promotional items for the campaign. Since she was all of five-­foot-­four, her feet dangled. She didn't want ­people to vote on her size; therefore, the photo was from the lap up. I told Granny that I didn't know who she thought she was fooling. Everyone who was eligible to vote knew her and how tall she was. She insisted. I didn't argue anymore. No one, and I mean no one, wins an argument against Zula Fae Raines Payne. Including me.

“She looks good.” Cephus raised his brows, lips turned down.

“She sure does,” I noted.

For a twice-­widowed seventy-­seven-­year-­old, Granny acted like she was in her fifties. I wasn't sure if her red hair was still hers or if Mary Anna kept it up on the down-­low, but Granny would never be seen going to Girl's Best Friend unless there was some sort of gossip that needed to be heard. Otherwise, she wanted everyone to see her as the good Southern belle she was.

“Against O'Dell Burns?” Cephus asked. Slowly, he nodded in approval.

It was no secret that Granny and O'Dell had butted heads a time or two. The outcome of the election was going to be interesting, to say the least.

“Yep. She retired three years ago, leaving me and Charlotte Rae in charge of Eternal Slumber.”

It was true. I was the undertaker of Eternal Slumber Funeral Home. It might make some folks' skin crawl to think about being around dead ­people all the time, but it was job security at its finest. O'Dell Burns owned Burns Funeral, the other funeral home in Sleepy Hollow, which made him and Granny enemies from the get-­go.

O'Dell didn't bother me though. Granny didn't see it that way. We needed a new mayor, and O'Dell stepped up to the plate at the council meeting, but Granny wouldn't hear of it. So the competition didn't stop with dead ­people; now Granny wants all the living ­people too. As mayor.

“Long story short,” I rambled on and on, “Granny married Earl Way Payne. He died and left Granny the Sleepy Hollow Inn. I don't know what she is thinking running for mayor because she's so busy taking care of all of the tourists at the Inn. Which reminds me”—­I planted my hands on my hips—­“you never answered my question. Have you seen Mary Anna yet?”

“Not yet.” His lips curved in a smile.

“She's done real good for herself. She opened Girl's Best Friend Spa and has all the business since she's the only one in town. And”—­I wiggled my brows—­“she is working for me at Eternal Slumber.”

A shiver crawled up my spine and I did a little shimmy shake, thinking about her fixing the corpses' hair and makeup. Somebody had to do it and Mary Anna didn't seem to mind a bit.

I ran my hand down my brown hair that Mary Anna had recently dyed since my short stint as a blond. I couldn't do my own hair, much less someone else's. Same for the makeup department.

I never spent much time in front of the mirror. I worked with the dead and they weren't judging me.

“Emma Lee?” Doc Clyde stood at the end of the magazine aisle with a small shopping basket in the crook of his arm. His lips set in a tight line. “Are you feeling all right?”

“Better than ever.” My voice rose when I pointed to Cephus. “Especially now that Cephus is back in town.”

“Have you been taking your meds for the Funeral Trauma?” He ran his free hand in his thin hair, placing the few remaining strands to the side. His chin was pointy and jutted out even more as he shuffled his thick-­soled doctor shoes down the old, tiled floor. “You know, it's only been nine months since your accident. And it could take years before the symptoms go away.”

“Funeral Trauma,” I muttered, and rolled my eyes.

Cephus just grinned.

The Funeral Trauma.

A few months back I had a perilous incident with a plastic Santa Claus right here at Artie's Meat and Deli. I had walked down from the funeral home to grab some lunch. Artie had thought it was a good idea to put a life-­sized plastic Santa on the roof. It was a good idea until the snow started melting and the damn thing slid right off the roof just as I was walking by, knocking me square out. Flat.

I woke up in the hospital seeing ghosts of the corpse I had buried six feet deep. I thought I had gone to the Great Beyond. But I could see my family and all the living.

I told Doc Clyde I was having some sort of hallucinations and seeing dead ­people. He said I had been in the funeral business a little too long and seeing corpses all of my life had been traumatizing. Granny had been in the business for over forty years. I had only been in the business for three. Something didn't add up.

Turned out, a psychic confirmed I am what was called a Betweener.

I could see ghosts of the dead who were stuck between the here and the after. Of course, no one but me and Jack Henry, my boyfriend and Sleepy Hollow's sheriff, knew. And he was still a little apprehensive about the whole thing.

“I'm fine,” I assured Doc Clyde, and looked at Cephus. “Wait.” I stopped and tried to swallow what felt like a mound of sand in my mouth. My mind hit rewind and took me back to the beginning of my conversation with Cephus.