A Ghostly Murder (7 page)

 

Chapter 11

M
OSS
AND
S
ON,
A
TTORNEY AT
L
AW
was scrolled in gold lettering on the glass door. The reception area was really nice. There were leather chairs, and only one was occupied.

“Hi.” The receptionist smiled. In a chirpy voice she asked, “How can I help you?”

“I'm with Eternal . . . um . . . Burns Funeral in Sleepy Hollow, Kentucky. I need to talk to Emmitt Moss about a client of ours. Mamie Sue Preston.” I didn't feel one bit bad for lying.

Mamie Sue might be hiding something from me, and it might not have to do with her murder, but now my curiosity was up. Which was not a good thing. A Southern woman always wanted to be seen as a lady, but really, we were all nosy.

The receptionist held a finger in the air and jumped out of her seat.

“Hold on,” she quipped. A wary, haunted look crossed her eyes before she rushed down the hall and into a room.

A few seconds later she and a stocky older man in a black suit with a nicely manicured goatee emerged from the room.

He looked at me, said a ­couple words in the woman's ear and gestured for me to come on back.

“Thank you for seeing me without an appointment, Mr. Moss.” I held my hand out. “It seems that I had never gotten a final payment from Ms. Preston's estate regarding that special bell stone of hers.”

“Years have passed. This matter should have been taken care of a long time ago.” His brows hooded his curious eyes.

“I know. It was an oversight on our part. I'm not sure if you are aware, my brother, O'Dell, was elected mayor of Sleepy Hollow, and I have taken over.” I smiled, gave a little wink and deepened my accent. “Of course I'm learning the business side and going through the books. Unfortunately, Ms. Preston wasn't the only one O'Dell let slip through the cracks.”

He sat in his chair and leaned back. He put his hand on his chin, giving his goatee a good scratch.

“I know you are a busy, busy man and I hate to bug you with this.” I planted my hands on his desk and leaned way over. “I'd be more than happy to contact them myself if you want to give me the contact information to DD LLC.”

His eyes had a hard time focusing on my face. I had never used my body to get what I wanted, but there was a first for everything.

Ahem,
he cleared his throat. His eyes looked at me. I dragged myself off the top of the desk.

“Miss . . .” He searched for my name.

“ . . . Burns.” I reminded him of whom I was pretending to be.

“Burns. Miss Burns.” He said it like he was trying to remember it. “Sally will get the contact information for you if you would like to leave your number with her.” He stood up and adjusted his pants. “Or we could just skip that step and you could give it to me.” A sly smile crossed his lips, exposing a gold eyetooth.

“Thank you.” I waved and headed out the door.

There was no way I was going to give a slimeball like him my phone number. I guess my assets didn't work the way I wanted them to.

“Aren't you going to give me your number?” Sally the receptionist asked as I walked by and out the door.

I took a long sip of Diet Coke once I got back into the hearse. There was something fishy going on with all this. There were too many hands in Mamie Sue's financial pot, but who was the killer? I had an eerie feeling the killer was someone I had already met. But which one?

I looked at my notes on my phone to see if anything at all would click. Wealthiest woman in town. Dixie Dunn, Emmitt Smith, Pastor Brown, million-­dollar donation to the Baptists—­where was it? And Mamie owned the building for Pose and Relax.

“Pose and Relax.” I smacked my hands together. “Namaste.”

I turned the hearse back toward Sleepy Hollow. It was time to get my Zen on. Hettie Bell rented the building. And if the building was in Mamie Sue's estate just like the courthouse documents stated, Hettie Bell had to know who was cashing her checks.

It didn't look like Charlotte Rae had bothered coming to work. Her car wasn't in the back parking lot of Eternal Slumber when I pulled in and parked. I quickly changed into the only pair of yoga pants I had and walked next door to Pose and Relax.

I was happy to see Hettie Bell through the window . . . alone.

“Hey!” There was an element of surprise in her face when I walked into the studio. She looked like a fit yoga girl in her black yoga pants with pink stripe up the side. She had a T-­back tight yoga shirt to match the pink on her pants. She turned around to straighten the brochures on the counter; Y
OGA
G
IRL
was printed on her butt in pink. “What are you doing here?”

“You've been begging me to try all this crap. I mean Zen.” I sucked in a big deep breath. “So have your way with me.”

Her lips pursed suspiciously. “Cut the bull. What do you really want?”

“Damn. I thought the yoga pants were a good cover-­up too.” I smacked my legs. “How did you hear about this place to rent?”

“Why do you ask?” Hettie asked. She leaned on the glass counter and folded her arms. “Usually when you start asking weird questions, something is up your sleeve. Kind of like the time you took me to the Watering Hole.”

“I'm trying to figure out the history of the building and who owns it. Granny had mentioned my grandfather was going to buy it.” I shrugged. “It got me curious.”

I walked over to the middle of the yoga floor. I threw my hands in the air and plunged myself forward into some sort of pose I made up on the spot.

The board under me creaked. I scooted my foot an inch and it creaked more.

“Curious enough to pretend to want to do yoga?” Hettie Bell was maybe a ­couple years younger than me. She wasn't stupid and was proving to be a good businesswoman. “I've got to get that board fixed. It just started creaking, and there's nothing less Zen than a creaking board.”

“Just tell me and I'll get you a beer from the Watering Hole with no strings attached.” I cut to the chase. A big grin spread across my face and I lifted my brows, along with my shoulders.

“Hold on.” She sighed and walked through a door that had a black plate with
OFFICE
engraved on it.

My phone chirped from the waistband of my yoga pants.

DD LLC = Dusting Dixies owned by Dixie Dunn,
Fluggie texted.

The maid????
I texted back.

Yep. Still digging.

“Dixie Dunn?” I asked out loud. “Did Mamie Sue leave her wealth to her maid?” I asked in a hushed whisper when I heard Hettie shuffle back in the room.

“I had gotten the listing online at craigslist and emailed this lawyer.” She handed me the paperwork she had printed off the computer.

“Emmitt Moss.” I read the name and noticed that the P.O. box's zip code was Sleepy Hollow's one and only zip code. “DBA, DD LLC.” I looked up at Hettie. “Say, can I get a copy of this?”

“Sure.” She wiggled the paper out of my hand. “I'll be right back.”

A ­couple of ­people with yoga mats came in. They laid their mats on the hardwood floor in front of the large mirrored wall and started to stretch. The big chalkboard on the wall had the list of daily classes. There was a stress relief class starting at four thirty, which meant I only had thirty minutes to get all gussied up for my dinner date with Jack Henry at his parents' house.

It really didn't matter how much time I had. Her Royal Highness Kate Middleton could be his girlfriend and Jo Francis Ross still wouldn't approve.

“Good afternoon, ladies,” Hettie greeted the yoginis and handed me the paper. “Class will start in a few minutes. You probably want to move up. I have a creaky board there.”

The girls rocked their bodies back and forth to find the board.

“Nothing. See.” Hettie threw her hands in the air. “Damn board has a mind of its own.”

“Breathe in Jesus, breathe out peace,” I said and laughed.

She closed her eyes and pretended to breathe. She laughed.

“Have you met Emmitt Moss?” I asked.

“No.” She shook her head. “I have to mail the payment to the P.O. box by the first of the month. Which reminds me . . .” She bit her lip. “That's tomorrow. I'm going to have to have the postal worker stick it in the box.” She winked. “He's a cute single guy that doesn't mind doing me a favor now and then.”

“I bet.” I held the piece of paper up in the air and thanked her before I walked back over to Eternal Slumber.

My tomorrow was quickly filling up. First church, softball game, and the Auxiliary meeting. It looked like stalking the post office was next on the list.

I wondered who I was going to see. Dixie Dunn or Emmitt Moss.

 

Chapter 12

W
ow!” Jack Henry stood on the doorstep of the residence entrance of Eternal Slumber. He had a cute boyish look on his face. “You look
great.
”

“Let's hope Cruella De Vil likes it.” I couldn't help the rude comment.

I had opted to wear a pair of skinny khaki pants, tight black sweater, and a pair of black flats, attempting my best to imitate Audrey Hepburn's infamous look.

“Okay little Zula with the snide comments.” He pressed his lips together. His jaw tightened.

“I'm kidding. Thank you. You look nice too.” I noticed how cute he looked in his collared shirt, khaki pants and loafers.

He wrapped his arms around me, and with his hand on the small of my back, he pulled me in for a kiss. Thank God he was holding me, or I would have fallen on the ground from the weakness in my knees from his soft lips.

“Or we could skip dinner and head into the bedroom for dessert.” I did my best to persuade him into not going.

“Then you'd really give her a valid reason not to love you.” His mouth moved down my chin and found my earlobe. He nibbled. “And I want her to love you as much as I love you.”

I guess there was something cute about the way he loved his mom. Only I didn't see what made her that way in his eyes. She always seemed to be on his ass about getting a better job, better life, better girlfriend.

“Fine.” I pushed off. “If we keep doing this, I'll never care if she likes me or not.”

“Love. Love you,” he repeated.

“That,” I jabbed my finger in his chest, “will never happen.”

“We'll see.” He grabbed my hand.

On the way out I grabbed the little black cocktail purse I'd snagged from the client closet. It was a closet where we put the extra clothes loved ones sent in for their family member to be buried in. Most times they would send us a ­couple of different outfits. When we would try to give the extra set back, they said to keep it or donate it to a family that needed funeral clothes.

Lucky for me, the little bag was perfect to keep my phone in just in case I heard from Fluggie.

“Tell me about this softball league you've gotten me into.” Jack Henry pointed to the back seat of his cruiser. “John Howard brought my uniform to the station today.”

“Grave Diggers?” I read the T-­shirt and laughed. “Eternal Slumber's softball team is named Grave Diggers?”

“He was so proud of it.” Jack Henry turned the cruiser past the square toward the old mill.

Jack Henry's parents' house was out that way. Since we had started dating, I'd only been invited out there a ­couple times.

“I really don't know much about it.” I pulled the visor down to help block the sun from my eyes. “He came in the office hemming and hawing around. He mentioned Burns, so I figured he wanted a raise.” I reached over and put my hand on Jack Henry's leg. It was still a dream come true for me to be dating Jack Henry Ross. “I gave him a big raise and tried to send him on his way, but he kept on. And I gave him another raise.” I started to laugh. “John Howard got two raises within minutes. Charlotte Rae about died. Anyway, he really wanted to ask me if the funeral home would sponsor the team.”

“So you volunteered me?” He kept one hand on the wheel and rested the other on top of mine.

“I'm dating Sleepy Hollow High's best baseball player ever.” I leaned over and kissed his cheek. “You are my secret weapon against Burns.”

“You're using me.” He laughed.

“In more ways than one.” I kissed his neck.

He eased the cruiser to the side of the old country road and put it in park.

He put both hands on my face and pulled me into his arms, his lips sending shivers of desires through me.

“You're going to drive me crazy all night until we can get back to your place,” he whispered into my hair.

He put his hands through my long brown hair. Stopping at my neck, he drew me closer. This time his kiss had a passionate message that was received. I felt like the girl I wanted to be in high school. Every single night before I went to bed, I dreamed of Jack Henry kissing me just like this.

“We better go.” I put my fingers up to his lips. “Before we really are late.”

He released me and let out a deep sigh.

“Woowee, you drive me crazy, Emma Lee Raines.” He ran a finger down the side of my face before he put the car in gear and peeled out.

I had to take several deep breaths to get my breathing back to normal.

“I did want to tell you that Bea Allen Burns called me today.” He gripped the wheel to make the turn into his parents' driveway. “She said the platter mysteriously appeared in the cabinet of the funeral home. Clean and everything.”

“Hmm.” I moaned.

“I'm guessing you are going to deny knowing anything about that?” He put the car in park.

Bolt and Rocky, the family's two big black Labrador retrievers, bounded toward the car at full speed.

“Not a thing.” I stepped out of the car.

If Jo Francis didn't like this outfit, it was only because she really did hate me.

“Down boys,” Jack Henry coaxed the rambunctious pups.

They didn't listen. They hopped and jumped, hoping to get the attention of Jack Henry's hand that was helping me out of the car.

“Oh, I'll love on you.” I bent down, getting smothered in wet doggie kisses.

“Jack Henry, I hope you don't kiss that mouth.” Jo Francis's voice rang in my ear like a lightning bolt and pierced my heart.

“He kisses more than that,” I uttered under my breath, stood up and smiled.

“Mom.” Jack Henry's displeasure was apparent. “You know you let them kiss all over you too.”

Jo Francis had on the latest trends. She was the cool mom when we were growing up. Cool as in had the svelte mom body with the clothes to match.

She had on a pair of skinny cropped jeans, boat shoes, light blue sweater and a large silver beaded necklace. Jack Henry got his dark brown hair from her. Only hers wasn't cut high and tight like his. Hers cascaded down her shoulders. Long and straight, full body.

“Did you get highlights?” she asked. Her eyes drew up and down my body, getting a good drink.

I raised my hands to my head. My black clutch dropped on the ground. Bolt grabbed it and ran off as fast as he could.

“Damn!” I screamed and took off after him.

“Yes, I hope you don't kiss that mouth.” Disgust dripped from her lips

I didn't bother looking back; I did a leap in the air, hoping to nab Bolt before he leapt into the pond. It was too late. Both of us ended up in the knee-­deep water, covered in moss and muck.

“Are you okay?” Jack Henry stopped at the edge of the pond. “Bad dog!” he scolded Bolt.

Bolt dropped the purse in the pond and took off in the other direction.

“Come on, let me help you out.” Jack Henry put his hand out.

“Damn dog.” I grabbed my purse and opened it. Water and a dead cell phone fell out into my palm.

“I'll get you a new phone.” Jack Henry's eyes grew openly amused.

“Stop it.” Tears burned at the edges of my eyes. I sludged through the muck. “I want to go home.”

“No. I have clothes here.” He grabbed me by the elbow.

Out of nowhere, Jo Francis was next to us with a big towel. Jack Henry took it and wrapped it around me, leading me up to the house.

“I am sorry about Bolt. I have no idea what got into him,” Jo Francis said.

Only I didn't believe her. She probably taught the dog the trick before I got there.

“You can go into the guest room to get a shower. I'll get you a towel.” She tried to take the lead.

“No, Mom.” Jack Henry pushed her hand away. “I'll take her to my old room and she can shower in there.”

“But . . .” Jo Francis tried to protest.

She quickly shut her mouth when Jack Henry gave her the death stare.

The house smelled of pork roast, potatoes, and fresh garden green beans. They had a one-­story ranch home with an attic converted to a suite for Jack Henry. There were three bedrooms and four baths on the one level. Jo Francis had used an interior decorator in the traditionally designed house. Most of the patterns were deep red plaids and horse items. The entire house had hardwood floors with deep mahogany crown molding. The hardwood was flanked with Persian rugs that had been imported from overseas.

Jack Henry had grown up in a luxurious life that horses and tobacco farming offered. The dead and burying the dead were not comparable.

“Thank you,” I said when Jack Henry shut his bedroom door behind us.

He gripped the edges of the towel and pulled me to him.

“I love you.” He kissed the tip of my nose. “You are right. I need to set Mom straight. She's going to lose me if she doesn't come around.”

“She thinks I'm nuts and not good enough for you.” The tears kept coming.

He took the edges of the towel and dabbed at my eyes. His face softened into a warming smile.

“You aren't nuts, and you are too good for me.” He turned me to the bathroom. “Go get a hot shower, and I'll put a T-­shirt and sweatpants out for you from my drawer.”

I did exactly what he told me. My heart was warm from his words. It was what I needed to hear to get through this night. I peeled the nasty pond-­water clothes off my body and looked in the mirror. I knew better than to try to apply makeup, when I rarely wore it. The mascara was thick and black under my eyes, and it streaked down my face, not on the eyelashes, where it was supposed to stay. So much for waterproof.

The showerhead was one of those with multiple streams. I closed my eyes and let the hot water roll over me. The idea of being in Jack Henry's shower filled me with love, but it wasn't enough for me to forget about my phone. All the notes I had been putting in there about Mamie Sue Preston were now lost. When I got home, I was going to have to sit down and write them down while they were still fresh in my mind.

I heard voices coming from the hallway when I stepped out of the shower. Jack Henry and his mom were outside his room in a heated argument.

I snugged the bath towel around my body and tiptoed to the shut door, putting my ear to it.

“I'm telling you, something isn't right with her,” Jo Francis warned her son on the other side.

“Mom, I love her. You are going to have to accept that.”

I smiled, closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

“Bea Allen told me Emma Lee pretended to be her today at some lawyer's office in Lexington.”

My eyes shot open.
Shit, shit, shit!
So much for keeping Mamie Sue a secret from Jack Henry.

“What are you talking about?” Jack Henry sounded confused.

“Bea Allen called and asked if you were still dating Emma.” She let out a heavy sigh. “Then she told me Emma Lee is asking all sorts of questions about one of their customers.” She hesitated. “Mamie Sue Preston. Emma tracked down Mamie Sue's lawyer and drove to Lexington to see him. She lied, Jack, honey. She told the lawyer she was Bea Allen and that Mamie Sue's estate owed her money.”

“This doesn't make sense. I'm sure there is an explanation,” he reasoned.

First, I didn't say I was Bea Allen. I said I was with Burns. I maybe alluded to it, but I didn't say Bea Allen.

“Then Bea Allen told me that her platter was missing and she told you about it. You did nothing about it because it was Emma's crazy grandmother who stole it.” Her voice held anger. “I'm telling you, you are going to lose that job offer if you don't get rid of her.”

Job offer
? My ears perked up.

“I'm not getting rid of her. And besides,” he hesitated, “I'm not sure I want to take the job and move away.”

“You get your head straight, young man,” Jo Francis warned her only child. “You've worked all your life to get a good education. Think with that brain of yours, not your penis.”

I rushed back to the bathroom and quietly shut the door when I heard Jo Francis's footsteps walk down the hall.

I sat on the toilet seat. There was an old Sleepy Hollow High baseball T-­shirt and sweatpants on the sink counter, nicely folded.

I bit my lip to stop me from crying. It seemed Jack Henry and I were both holding secrets from each other. It was obvious he had been offered a state police job that required him to move away and I was the one keeping him from fulfilling his lifelong dream of moving up in a job he loved so much.

“Are you out?” Jack Henry tapped on the door. “I put some clothes that should fit you on the sink.”

“I saw them. Thanks.” I gulped back the tears.

I pulled the clothes on and opened the door.

“Do you have a hairbrush?” I asked. My heart felt like it was being torn right out of my body when I looked at him, knowing he was hanging his dreams out to dry.

“Yeah,” he said and disappeared.

I sat on the edge of his old bed. It was time I let him off the hook about the job. I would tell him we could do the long-­distance thing and encourage him to take the job.

It wasn't like Kentucky was such a big state that we couldn't.

“Here you go.” He sat down next to me and handed me the brush. “If I'd known you looked so damn sexy in my high school shirt, I would've let you have it in high school.” He drew back when he noticed I didn't respond. His brows furrowed. “What's wrong?”

“I . . . I overheard your conversation with your mom.”

“You have to ignore her. I'm sure there was a mix-­up about Bea Allen.” He rubbed his hand down my spine and scratched the small of my back. “You didn't do that, did you?”

My body tensed.

“Emma Lee, did you?” He removed his hand. His big brown eyes popped open. He knew. He stood up and ran his hands through his hair. “Good God, Emma. What the hell? I'm a cop. Impersonating someone is a felony.”