A Ghostly Murder (5 page)

“Not long.” Dixie's words were short and sweet.

“Woo-­hoo, Dixie,” Beulah Paige waved a few envelopes in the air.

“Excuse me.” Dixie and her tea walked off. “I need to distribute the Auxiliary invitations for her.”

“Auxiliary invites?” I put my hand on Dixie. “Is it that time of year again?”

In order to be a member of the Auxiliary Women's Group, you had to be invited by the leader. When Ruthie Sue Payne died, the women voted Beulah Paige as the new gossip queen . . . er . . . president. Another time Granny was knocked out of running for something else.

“I guess.” She shrugged and pulled away.

I watched Beulah hand Dixie the invites and utter a few words, which I could only imagine were instructions. Beulah had a funny way of doing things. She called them the proper way; I called it rich ­people's way of doing things. It didn't seem too proper to be handing them out at a funeral, and that was my opinion.

“I hope you have one of those for me,” I said with a big smile on my face when Beulah walked up to get a glass of iced tea.

“Emma Lee,” Beulah pulled her lips into a tight smile. “Not this year. I remember you received a generous offer last time and didn't take it.”

“I'm going to accept this time,” I responded matter-­of-­factly.

“No.” Her smile was still tight to her face. “Not this time.”

Dixie walked by, about to hand out her first invite to Hettie Bell.

“You don't want to do that.” I patted her arm. “We don't allow solicitations of any sort at funerals. It's not polite.” My eyes slid to Beulah. “And Jack Henry is right over there if I need him.”

We all turned and looked at Jack Henry. Not his finest moment. His mouth dripped with barbecue sauce from his pulled pork sandwich. He gave a slight wave. I waved back as though he knew what I was doing. It was best to leave him in the dark about my little blackmail scheme.

“Tree!” Beulah pointed to Granny, and then pointed to me. “Apple!”

“What?” For a second, I thought she knew about the apple pie!

“The apple doesn't fall too far from the tree,” Beulah spat. Her fists balled.

She grabbed an envelope and handed it to me before she pulled down the black veil and huffed off in a different direction.

“Nice going.” Mamie folded her arms next to me. “Now, let's go put that platter back.”

Ahem,
I cleared my throat.

“I hate to say it, but Zula Fae is right.” She lifted her cane in the air. “No one is at Burns, they are here. And that little hot hunk of yours is stuffing his mouth. You aren't on anyone's radar. Beulah wants to stay as far away from you as possible. Plus . . .” Her fine silky eyebrows rose a trifle. “You can look for my file. Grab my teeth.”

It only took me a half a second to go back in the media room, grab the platter and dart out the back door.

“You are going to need these.” Granny stood on the back porch of the funeral home with her moped keys dangling from her fingers.

In a big toss, Granny threw them at me. I snagged them out of the air and hopped on her moped without even thinking how I had never even ridden the thing.

If Granny could ride, though barely, I could ride it. I didn't bother with the skintight aviator helmet or big goggles Granny wore. I gunned the handle and whizzed down the driveway, turning left before anyone saw me.

Burns Funeral was on the opposite side of town. The hearse would've been faster, but it was blocked in.

Granny and Mamie were right. Burns Funeral was like a ghost town, and it thrilled me to no end to see it that way. I secretly wished it was like that all the time. Thanks to ­people like Mamie, who switched their pre-­needs arrangements without telling us, Burns was going to stay in business.

“Right through there.” Mamie Sue pointed to a ser­vice door on the side of the funeral home.

The building was really no different from Eternal Slumber. They were both very old Victorian houses turned into funeral homes. The stately brick buildings had wonderfully large rooms with big windows. The crown molding was something new buildings didn't have. The character added to the feel of the importance of a nice send-­off. Just like Eternal Slumber, there was a large front porch with a fence. Burns had yellow brick and white trim, Eternal Slumber had red brick with white trim. Both were beautiful, but the employees and owners were quite different.

“Tell me.” I put my hand on the door. “Why should I help you when you didn't use Eternal Slumber and you don't like my granny?”

Not that I wasn't going to help her. I wanted her to cross over as much as she wanted to cross over.

“Because I'm paying you.” She stood next to me. She was serious.

“Fine.” I didn't know why, but somehow I believed her. I would be happy that Mamie would be on the other side to greet Granny if something ever happened to her. And maybe tell Granny about my job as a Betweener, which I felt was far more important than being an undertaker.

“Right there!” Mamie pointed to the large stained-­glass window in the only viewing room that Burns had. “I was laid out right under that big, beautiful window.”

“Great.” I kept going. “Let's hurry.”

I had never been in the Burns residence. I had heard it was upstairs and nice. The large staircase stood to your right as soon as you walked in the front door. The Oriental carpet covered each step to the top. Each one creaked with every step I took.

There were two bedrooms. One on the right and one on the left. At the end of the hallway was one big room with a TV, fireplace, and kitchenette.

“Wait.” Mamie stopped. “Didn't that hot hunk of yours say it was taken from the window downstairs?”

“Oh!” I snapped my fingers. “Good thinking.”

We headed back down the steps and took a swift right turn. The kitchen was much larger for the funeral home, kind of like what we had at Eternal Slumber, but nicer. Way nicer.

There were stainless steel appliances, along with a double oven and gas stovetop.

“Where in the world did Burns get this kind of money to redo this kitchen?” I wondered.

There was a rumor he had done some remodeling to update some things a few years back, but who knew it was this nice. These items cost an arm and a leg now. It must've cost a kidney back then.

My phone chirped a text from my back pocket. My heart jumped. Who figured out I was gone?

Be at the mill tomorrow at nine a.m.
It was Fluggie. She must've stuck her nose to the ground and found something out. I stuck my phone back in my pocket and opened the cabinet doors until I found the one with the platters. I stuck the stolen one in and shut the door, closing the who-­stole-­the-­pie-­and-­platter case.

Too bad the pie wasn't on the platter, or I would have put it back in the window to let Bea Allen think she was going crazy.

“Teeth,” Mamie reminded me.

“File.” I nodded in agreement.

O'Dell Burns's office was just as nice as his new kitchen. The coffee-­colored leather couch was in between Chippendale antique tables flanked by two overstuffed leather chairs and ottomans. The wooden blinds in the window had to be custom made, because when Charlotte Rae and I took over Eternal Slumber, we wanted to get rid of the heavy curtains. When we priced the custom blinds, we decided our clients couldn't see the heavy curtains and kept them. Plus we didn't, don't, have that kind of cash.

“Damn.” I looked around. The filing cabinets were built into the wall. “This is costly.”

“Yep.” Mamie pointed her cane at one specific filing cabinet. “Right there.”

I tugged, and it pulled out with ease. I ran my finger along the tabs until I reached Mamie Sue Preston. I pulled it out, and a Ziploc bag fell to the ground.

“Hot damn!” She jumped up, nearly scaring me to the other side. “My teeth! Now, take them to the cemetery and slip them in my hole where the string for the bell is.”

“Are you kidding me?” I never really thought about how I was going to get the teeth into her mouth. She was a ghost.

“As long as it's in the casket with me.” She pointed to her mouth. Her large diamond sparkled.

“Your diamond ring is in the casket too?” I asked.

She nodded.

“No one in your family wanted it?” I asked.

“Do as I tell you to do. Or you won't be paid.” She disappeared in a flash.

“Paid how?” I asked out loud and glanced down at the bag of teeth.

 

Chapter 8

J
unior's repast turned out to be a success, and my little disappearing act to Burns Funeral had apparently gone unnoticed. No one mentioned a word of it. Not even Jack Henry.

After a good night's sleep and another Eternal Slumber client in the grave, I had time for a fresh cup of coffee at Higher Grounds Café before I made an appearance over at Doc Clyde's. Even though he had told me to call Ina, I figured I would show up and insist on an appointment. Ina was already scared of me, and if I threw a little crazy on top of her fear, she would fit me right in the good doc's appointment schedule.

“Good morning,” I greeted Ina Claire Nell when I walked up to the counter at Higher Grounds. “The person I wanted to see on this fine morning.”

I was going to have to pull out a good batch of crazy to get on Doc Clyde's appointment schedule this morning.

“Good morning, Emma Lee. How is Zula Fae doing?” Ina's blond frosted hair was piled high on her head. She wore the typical blue hospital scrubs. Only it was scrubs that had to be stolen, because the hospital's name that was stamped all over, albeit faded, was still visible.

Cheryl Lynne Doyle set a steamy cup of coffee and bowl of fruit in front of me. I took the open counter stool next to Ina.

“Granny is fine. Thank you for asking.” I picked up the cup and took a sip. “It's me that's not okay.”

Slowly I shook my head, opened my eyes wide and stared at her.

“You know.” I rolled my finger around my ear like a crazy sign. “I'm all out of meds.” I shrugged and popped a grape in my mouth.

Cheryl Lynne laughed. “Ina, your scone will be out of the oven any minute.”

Cheryl Lynne walked down the counter, refilling all the regulars' cups before she went over to the cash register to take some to-­go orders.

“Doc Clyde said to stop in early this morning to get on the calendar,” I said.

Ina's face flushed. She kept her hands around her cup and her eyes forward. The only visible moving part was the lump she was trying to swallow.

“I thought I'd grab me a cup of coffee before I head on over to the good doc's office and hang out until he can see me.” I took another sip of coffee.

“He can see you first thing this morning.” Ina slapped a single on the counter and got up. “Fifteen minutes.”

“Great! I'll be there!” I hollered above the breakfast crowd as she rushed toward the door.

“See you at tomorrow's Auxiliary meeting,” a lady sitting next to where Ina was seated called out.

Ina put her hand in the air but didn't look back.

Mable Claire and Beulah Paige passed Ina. They exchanged pleasantries and a few words. Mable and Beulah glanced my way on the way to their normal table.

Auxiliary meeting tomorrow?
Seeing how I was a new member, I wondered why they didn't say something last night when I blackmailed my invite from the grips of Beulah Paige.

There was only one way to find out.

“I'm going to move over to that table.” I winked at Cheryl and picked my cup up, gesturing over to Beulah and Mable.

“Play nice,” Cheryl Lynne warned me when she walked around her counter to go fill others' coffee mugs.

They play nice, I play nice. It was that simple.

“Can I get a to-­go cup when you finish with them?” I asked Cheryl Lynne as she passed me. She nodded and made her way through the crowd.

“Ladies.” I walked up to Beulah and Mable's table, pulling the extra chair out and plopping right on down. I pulled the folded paper out of my back pocket and put it on the table. I used my finger to un-­crease the folds and slid it across the table. “My application for the Auxiliary Women's Group of Sleepy Hollow, and I will pay the fee tomorrow night at the meeting.”

“Did you tell her about tomorrow tonight?” Beulah shot a glare at Mable Claire. Beulah's face reddened as deep as her hair.

“Why no, I didn't.” Mable Claire stood up and jingled her way toward the bathroom. She ran from confrontation every time.

She stopped when she saw a child. She pulled out some pennies from her pocket, gave them to the child, and patted the child's head before she finally disappeared into the ladies' room.

“I don't know what you have up your sleeve, Emma Lee, but I don't like it one bit.” Beulah jabbed her finger on the tabletop. “What is it that you want?”

“I want to be an Auxiliary member.” I straightened my shoulders. “Y'all asked last year,” I leaned in and whispered, “before I got the Funeral Trauma.” I gave a theatrical wink. “All the crazy is gone.”

“I'm not so sure about that.” Beulah leaned back. She sucked her mouth into the shape of a rosette, followed by a long silence. “I heard you were acting strange in the square yesterday morning behind a tree.
A tree,
” she repeated.

“Was I?” Shit, I wonder who saw me. I had been so careful.

“They said you were talking and talking and peeking and talking.” She rotated her hand in the air. “I wasn't going to tell your granny, but I'm not so sure she shouldn't know about it.”

“Oh, Beulah Paige, you don't want to do that,” I warned and crossed my arms in front of me.

Ahem,
Pastor Brown cleared his throat from the next table over.

“Lovely ser­vice the other day, Pastor.” Southern charm dripped out of Beulah's mouth.

“Thank you.” He nodded. He looked at me. “It would be nice to see you at Sunday ser­vice, Emma Lee.”

“Thank you.” I tried to be noncommittal. “Beulah and the girls were kind enough to extend an invitation to join the Auxiliary.” I reached my hand across the table and placed it on top of Beulah's. Gently I patted it. She slipped it right on out from underneath and placed her hands in her lap. “Wasn't that nice of Beulah? I'm sure I'm going to fit right on in.”

“Mighty nice,” Pastor Brown replied. “I hope I see you at this Sunday's ser­vice.”

He stood up and laid a tip on the table. Cheryl Lynne brought out my cup of to-­go coffee. I pulled a five out of my pocket and handed it to her.

“I wouldn't miss ser­vice for the world.” Beulah was the biggest ass-­kisser I had ever seen.

“Now,” I drew Beulah's attention back to me. “Where and what time tomorrow night?”

“My house. Seven o'clock.” There was a discipline to her voice. “And don't you dare act up, or you won't have another chance. Threats or not.”

“See you at seven.” The chair shrilled across the tile floor of the café when I pushed back and got up, leaving my to-­go cup on the table.

I didn't bother looking back, because I knew she was spitting mad. Beulah Paige and I had never really seen eye-­to-­eye. I'm sure it had to do with the fact that I had publicly called her out on her gossip over the past year or so. I did apologize due to the fact I had one too many drinks. Like most Southern women, she didn't forget when someone wronged her. Not even after the apology I had given her.

The only thing I cared about was the invitation to join the Auxiliary. The timing at her house couldn't be more perfect. It would give me a chance to dig deeper into Mamie Sue's past by talking to Dixie Dunn.

If she and Mamie were as tight as Mamie acted, I was sure she had a clue to what happened to Mamie's money. Or at least knew some of Mamie's contacts.

Luckily Doc Clyde's office was in the old house right next to Higher Grounds. Ina Claire had taken her perch on the chair behind the sliding-­glass window. She didn't bother opening the window to greet me. She pointed to the clipboard with the attached pen.

Like always, I took the clipboard back to one of the old wooden chairs and sat down. I was careful not to bust one of the cushion ties securely knotted to one of the wooden back spindles. I filled out the form and put it back on the sill for Ina Claire to grab. I still had some time before Doc Clyde came to work, and I needed to get in those files.

The
Southern Living
magazines were piled high between the two chairs. I picked up the one on top. It was dated five years ago. Haphazardly, I thumbed through it, trying to come up with a reason for Ina Claire to move away from her desk. The files were in the pantry right behind her, and no one was going to get past her. Especially me.

“What about Ina's scone?” Mamie tapped the sliding window with her cane.

“What was that?” Ina Claire jumped in her seat. “Did you throw something at the reception window?”

“Me?” I pointed to myself and asked. “No, but I did forget to tell you that Cheryl Lynne told me to tell you that your scone was ready.”

It was like giving her a birthday present. The joy flooded right back in her cheeks. The door connecting the hallway of the patient rooms and the waiting room slammed behind her.

“No funny business,” she scolded me. “I'll be right back.”

“Just going to sit here and read this magazine.” I held the century-­old magazine up in the air and didn't look up until I heard the outside door shut.

I jumped up and ran over to the door, locking it.

“You are a genius!” I snapped my finger at Mamie Sue. “I wasn't sure how I was going to get rid of her.”

I helped myself back to the filing cabinet. Once before I'd had to illegally get a file on my granny, so I already knew the system pretty well. It was alphabetized, and Doc Clyde never got rid of any files.

“What do you want with the files?” Mamie Sue asked.

She peeked over my shoulder when I pulled out the cabinet drawer with the
P
.

“Preston, Preston,” I repeated, running my finger down the tabs.

“Are you looking into my file?” Mamie's voice cracked with worry.

“Yes. I need to know what type of illness you really had or even if you did.”

“I was always sick. Or at least I had symptoms that Doc Clyde could never diagnose. But my file is none of your business.”

“Do you want me to help you or not?” I asked.

“I just don't see how this is helping me.”

My finger stopped when it got to
Preston.
I should've known that it was going to be the biggest file in the entire client list.

“Good gravy.” I let out a heavy sigh. “How am I ever going to get this thing read before little Miss Receptionist gets here?”

My eyes darted around the office. I wondered where I could put it and get it later.

The handle on the door jiggled. I slammed the cabinet shut and ran back into the waiting room, putting the file on the bottom of the stack of
Southern Living
magazines that were neatly piled on the floor underneath the table.

If the one I was looking at was from five years ago, surely no one would go through the stack on the floor.

“Emma Lee.” Doc Clyde seemed to be surprised to see me sitting in the chair. “Is Ina not here?”

“She ran across to Higher Grounds to get her scone Cheryl Lynne made especially for her.” I stood up. “You know, I've been feeling really good for the past twenty-­four hours. I think I was having a bout of allergies.” I sniffed. “I just wanted to pop over and let you know that all is fine.”

He stood with his mouth open. The deep wrinkle between his unruly brows creased even more.

“Bye.” I gave a slight wave and headed out the door.

I waited a few more seconds before I peeked my head back in. Doc Clyde wasn't in the waiting room. Quickly I tiptoed over to where I had left the file and grabbed it.

“Ina Claire? Is that you?” Doc Clyde yelled from the back.

I tiptoed back over to the door and left.

“Where are you going?” Ina Claire met me on the sidewalk.

“All done. Clean bill of health.” I smiled, hugging the file tight to my body.

Ina Claire shrugged and disappeared through the office door. I took my phone out of my back pocket. I was going to be late for my date with Fluggie Callahan.