A Ghostly Murder (9 page)

“What?” I asked, wondering what had crawled up Beulah's butt.

“I gave her an invitation to the Auxiliary, and she snubbed me.” Beulah drew in a breath. “The nerve thinking she is better than
me
.”

She rolled her eyes and drew her hands to her chest at the same time.

“Oh.” I smirked. “She does have an air about her. But, I wanted to know if I could get Dixie's contact information, since Charlotte's on me?”

“Hold on.” She shut the door.

I heard the tapping of her shoes on the tile floor. Charlotte Rae had failed to mention the invitation. And it sort of made me mad. They were going to extend her an invitation and not me?

I pulled out of my thoughts when the door clicked open.

“You know.” There was a puzzled look in her eyes. “I don't even have a number for her.”

“How did you hire her?” I asked.

“There was this girl who came to the door telling me about her.” Beulah bit her bottom lip, her brows crossed, as though she was thinking.

“A girl?” I asked. “What did the girl say?”

“She wanted to know if I had a cleaning lady, because she knew someone who cleaned the big house a few doors down.” She leaned her body on her arm, holding on to the doorknob.

“A few doors down?” I knew she was talking about Mamie's, but Mamie had been dead for a while. Where had Dixie worked between Mamie and Beulah?
That
was the time frame I needed.

­“People around here are always changing up their cleaning crew.” She shrugged. “She offered me a deal. The next day Dixie showed up.”

“Where was the girl?” I asked.

“I have no idea. I haven't seen her since.” She rubbed her temples with her fingertips. “I need to go to bed. You are giving me a headache.”

“Before I go”—­I didn't budge—­“are you sure Dixie isn't with a cleaning ser­vice?”

“I told you already. As long as she does a good job, and judging by how fast everyone gobbled up the chess pie at Junior's repast, I'm thinking she's doing a fine job. I don't ask questions. You can ask her for some referrals tomorrow when you come back for the meeting, but you ain't taking her from me,” she warned and waved her fingers in the air before she shut the door.

Seeing Beulah gave me more questions than answers. Now I wanted to know exactly who the first girl was who came to Beulah's door. She had to be part of Dusting Dixies.

Where had Dixie been for the past few years between Mamie and Beulah? Who did Mamie hang around with when she was alive? Who were her friends? According to her, no one, but everyone has to have at least one friend. What did Pastor Brown do with the million dollars?

Maybe the answers to some of the questions were the missing pieces I needed to figure out who'd had motive to kill Mamie. How did she die?

One thing I did know, I was going to be sitting in the front pew of Sleepy Hollow Baptist Church come sunrise.

 

Chapter 14

I
think hell has just frozen over.” Beulah Paige Bellefry hugged her Bible close to her chest when I passed her and the other Auxiliary women standing on the front steps of Sleepy Hollow Baptist Church.

“Amen,” I cheered and stopped on their step. “Is this the greeting committee? Or is this a come to Jesus meeting?”

“That is not funny, Emma Lee. I don't have time to listen to your cockamamie bull malarkey today. I have a headache.” Beulah Paige brushed her fancy gloved hands down her cream suit. She had a hot pink blouse underneath for a pop of color. “We are in the house of the Lord.”

“Actually, we are outside.” I stared at her eyes. There wasn't one wrinkle. That heavy moisturizer must be working, and there was no way I was going to tell her she looked good.

Granny nudged me. She gave me the stink-­eye.

“What?” I shrugged and used my fingers to help fluff up her matted-­down hair. “God doesn't have a sense of humor? You really need to carry a comb if you insist on using a tight helmet.” I referred to the aviator leather helmet she tugged over her head instead of a hard helmet.

Granny's lips pinched together. She hugged her pocketbook a little tighter to her body.

Mable Claire, Hettie Bell and Cheryl Lynne Doyle laughed.

Ahem,
Beulah cleared her throat. We all stepped aside to make way for all the other churchgoers who were walking into the sanctuary.

“Say,” I leaned my head and glanced over at the side entrance of the church. “Isn't that your maid?”

“I'll be,” Beulah sucked in a breath and smiled. “I invited her, and I'm glad she decided to come.”

We all went inside. I made sure I got a bulletin and walked down the main aisle to the front. The pews on both sides were full from the front to the back. It was like social time. Everyone with a happy face, greeting everyone.

There were a lot of ­people I didn't know and a lot of ­people I did. The stares from ­people I didn't know didn't bother me. The stares from ­people I did know bothered me.

“Deep in the valley the stone rolled away!” a voice sang out. It was familiar.

I looked but didn't see who was singing when ser­vice hadn't even started.

Granny grabbed my elbow and nodded her head to the front. Doc Clyde and Ina Claire were sitting in the front pew. I would get a good view right up Pastor Brown's nostrils.

“The stone rolled away!” The singing voice was closer. “Rolled away!”

The expressions on Doc Clyde's and Ina Claire's faces were indescribable. If I wasn't mistaken, I thought Ina Claire was looking up to the heavens to make sure a lightning bolt didn't come down and strike me dead when I sat down next to her.

“Amen,” I leaned over to her and whispered.

She harrumphed and kept her eyes straight ahead.

“Deep in the valley the stone rolled away!” The voice was louder.

“Who is that singing off key?” I laughed.

“What?” Doc Clyde leaned around Granny and asked.

“That singing.” I put my finger in my ear to block the noise.

“Yes.” Doc Clyde slowly nodded his head. “The singing. Right, Zula Fae?”

Granny's entire body tensed. She cleared her throat and shimmied her butt into the pew, straightening her body.

“Rolled away!” the voice yelled.

I laughed. My eyes slid up to the altar. Mamie Lee stood in the choir line with her arms extended and head raised to high heaven, singing at the top of her lungs.

“Yes! Rolled away!” She dropped her head and skimmed the crowd.

“Sweet Jesus,” I murmured when I realized the awful singing was coming right out of the mouth of Mamie Sue Preston and no one could hear her, leaving me looking crazy, yet again.

“Do you like the song?” Doc Clyde asked.

“What song?” I had to diffuse the crazy. “Are you okay, Doc? The ser­vice hasn't started yet.”

“I told Eugene he needed to incorporate more music.” Mamie watched as the choir filed in one by one with their purple robes on, leading into a song before Pastor Brown came out of the side door and took his seat on the altar.

Eugene
? I looked at the bulletin and read “Pastor Eugene Brown.” Come to think of it, I had only known Pastor Brown as “Pastor Brown.” I looked him over as he sat up there with his chin in the air. His blue eyes lit up as he preached the good word.

He did look like a Eugene.

Eugene glanced around the room. His eyes stopped when he got to me. He gave a hard squint as if he was making sure it was me. The crow's-­feet deepened. They softened. Subtly his lips turned up to let me know of his approval.

Don't get used to it, Eugene,
I thought and smiled back. He gave me the nod,
the Baptist nod
. The man had some secrets in there. I could probably sneak out all the gold in Fort Knox quicker than get those deep secrets out of Pastor Brown.

God forgive me, but I didn't listen to a word Pastor Eugene Brown preached on. I was too busy asking God to give me the answers to where the one million dollars was, because the financial report on the back of the church bulletin said the church brought in six hundred dollars last week and four hundred and fifty the week before that, which didn't come near to adding up to a million dollars.

One Sunday ser­vice wasn't going to get me the answers I needed.

I shifted in the hard pew, making a mental note on how he could spend a little of the million on pew cushions.

Pastor Brown asked everyone to bow their heads for the last prayer. I glanced over at Granny. Her eyes were shut as tight as bark on a tree, her hands folded in her lap. Her Bible was open to the day's scripture reading.

Sticking out of her Bible was a picture. I pulled it out gently so as not to disturb her prayer time. Her hand flew up and smacked the back of my hand. I still got the picture though.

“I'll be,” Mamie Sue Preston said out loud. “I had forgotten all about that.”

The picture was of two young women and a young man. They each had on pearls, long dark dresses, and the fanciest high-­heeled shoes I'd ever seen. The young man was dapper in his black suit and fancy two-­toned shoes. The picture was black and white, but the wealth of the three was apparent.

They were hugging on each other, standing on the steps of none other than the Sleepy Hollow Baptist Church.

Granny winked one eye open. She pointed to the girl on the far left and mouthed, “That was me at your age.”

“And that was me.” Mamie's finger came over my shoulder and tapped the other girl. “But that old bat ain't going to tell you that.”

Granny and Mamie had been friends, and neither of them wanted to admit it.

I furrowed my brows and pointed to the other girl.

Granny shrugged and mouthed, “I can't remember.” Her brow twitched. It was a sure sign she was lying to me.

“You are such an old goat. Can't remember my ass,” Mamie belted over Pastor Brown's amen.

I snorted trying not to laugh. Granny dug her fingernails into my leg, only making me yelp. Pastor Brown looked at me.

“Don't forget about the spaghetti dinner on Wednesday night and keeping the good Lord's house in your giving today when you leave.” He pointed to the back of the church. “A few of the deacons are back there with the collection plates.”

The organist flung her fingers on the keys and belted out a Hallelujah before the congregation got up to leave.

“Who is that?” I pointed to the man.

“Honey,” Granny smiled, “that is Pastor Brown when he was your age too.”

“Emma Lee,” someone said, touching my shoulder.

I turned around to find Pastor Brown staring at me.

“It was so good to see you this morning.” He smiled. The eyes of the young man in the photo were the exact same eyes as Pastor's. “I'm sure it not only warmed Zula Fae's and God's hearts, but it made their week.”

“Thank you,” I said and noticed the line of ­people who were waiting to talk to him.

“I hope you come back.” He patted me on the back.

“Pastor,” Mable Claire interrupted. “I'm not going to be able to count the money tomorrow. I've got to be somewhere, and I just can't be in two places at once.”

I watched her scurry off.

“What kind of money counting?” I asked.

“Mable Claire volunteers every week to count the collection plate. She also takes the money to the bank for me. She does a fine job,” he boasted about her ability.

“I could do it one time.” One time was all I needed to get some of the answers I was seeking. “I mean, I do the funeral home's money, and I don't mind offering my ser­vices.”

“I'm thrilled to see you take an active role in the church.” Pastor Brown rocked back and forth on his heels. “Can you be here in the morning?”

“Bright and early,” I said.

That was settled. Everyone seemed happy. Everyone but Granny.

“What was that about?” she asked me in the parking lot of the church. She snapped the helmet off the handlebars of her scooter and rolled it down over her head.

“What?” I asked.

“You know what.” Her words were sharp and held some anger in them. She snugged the aviator goggles over her eyes, magnifying them ten times their normal size.

“You've been trying to get me to go to church since I was legal enough to make my own decision not to,” I said as I steadied the moped for her as she swung a leg over it.

She scooted her butt up to the top of the seat.

“You are up to something, Emma Lee Raines.” She turned the key. “And I'm gonna find out.” She twisted the throttle and whizzed off toward the Inn.

 

Chapter 15

F
luggie Callahan had done a big write-­up in the paper about the revival of the softball league, and everyone was excited.

When I pulled into the gravel lot of Softball Junction I knew John Howard's idea was a hit. Who knew so many ­people had time on their hands, especially on a Sunday afternoon?

“Like the shirts, Emma Lee?” John Howard asked.

A lanky, blond-­haired young man with dopey gray eyes and a wisp of a goatee stood next to him with a Grave Digger shirt on.

“I do.” I nodded, putting my hand over my eyes to shield the sun. “Grave Diggers,” I said in my best spooky voice. “Nice name.”

“Thanks.” John Howard's dingy hand smacked the boy next to him. “This here is Arley Burgin. He is my buddy who works for Hardgrove Funeral Homes.”

Homes
as in many.

“You know 'em?” Arley asked.

“Yes,” I said without a hint of sarcasm, which surprised even myself.

Gina Marie Hardgrove. Saying her name put a bad taste in my mouth. My mind traveled back to mortuary school. I spent many wasted hours in Descriptive Pathology class gawking at the baseball-­sized diamond on her hand—­I blamed my C-­minus on that ring. Needless to say, Charlotte Rae and I didn't have it easy, like Gina Marie. Everyone in the state knew the Hardgrove Funeral Homes. They started out in a neighboring town but quickly expanded throughout Kentucky. They weren't only a funeral home, they were also a reception center.

In one room, you could have a viewing of a dead client, and in another room they were celebrating the arrival of an impending birth. They ushered in births and sent out the dead. It was the darndest thing I had ever heard of. ­People loved it. Even brides started to rent out the reception hall. Talk about freaky.

“She's my boss,” Arley said in a deep Southern accent, bordering the line of hillbilly.

“Boss?” That grabbed my attention real fast. I cocked my head to the side so I could hear Arley really well.

“Yeah, old man Hardgrove retired about six months ago, leaving Gina Marie, Ms. Hardgrove, in charge.” He scratched his goatee. “Her brothers didn't like it too much.”

“Really?” I asked.

Now
that
was some Southern fried gossip I could chew on. Charlotte Rae would find it very interesting, since those boys had spent a lot of time trying to get her to go out with them when we were younger.

My parents and Granny used to take us to conventions. Of course like anything else, the funeral world was just as small as Sleepy Hollow. We saw the same families, same kids and heard all the shared stories time after time.

The Hardgroves always fancied themselves rich. The boys especially strutted around Charlotte Rae like horny roosters, since she was the prettier, more endowed of the two of us. Granny scooted those boys off a dozen times at those conventions as they sniffed around Charlotte. I was sure one of them was eventually going to piss on her to mark his territory.

Granny always reminded me and Charlotte Rae to never forget our raisin'. Which meant never forget where you came from and it should keep you humble. I never forgot. Hell, who knew what happened to Charlotte Rae.

“Why yes, ma'am, she sure is.” He took his Grave Digger hat off and rubbed his tangled, shoulder-­length hair. “Them boys sure are mad. Mad as a wet cat. Mad.” He shook his head and walked off with John Howard to the field.

I
bet
those Hardgrove boys were mad. They promised Charlotte Rae the world, saying they were going to be known as the Funeral Kings one day and would put her up in a mighty big house with all the finest things.

I recalled Charlotte Rae liking Gina Marie's big diamond too, and she did mention she could have one if she wanted to marry a Hardgrove.

Yeah, right.

Not with the bit of news I just got. I couldn't wait to tell Charlotte Rae about Gina Marie dethroning the Hardgrove kings.

“Hello, Emma Lee.” Fluggie Callahan stood next to the fence with her camera at the ready, taking pictures of all the men in their uniforms. “Grave Diggers? Couldn't they come up with a better name?”

“I guess not.” I looked out onto the field at my sponsored team.

My heart fell into my feet when I saw Jack Henry Ross out there in his tight white baseball pants and lime-­green Grave Digger shirt. On the back they had E
TERNAL
S
LUMBER
printed on them.

His muscles contracted with every throw. Every time he caught the softball, it made a smack in his glove. I was thrown back into high-­school mode all over again. Then I used to watch him from the sidelines and picture me running up to him at home plate after he made a home run. Today I felt the same.

I had no idea where we stood after last night's dinner with his parents that never ended up happening. And the fact I had found out he had been offered a job out of state and never once told me. Plus I knew he was considering taking it.

“Emma!” Jack Henry called out, waving his glove in the air, bringing me out of my memories. “Hi!”

His smile was boyishly affectionate. I waved and smiled back. I wanted him to have a good game. His attitude told me he still wanted to talk about what had happened. Today I was ready to conquer that beast.

Plus I was sure he wanted to question me about Mamie Sue. If I could prove she was murdered and had enough supporting evidence, he'd be willing to exhume her body by going through the proper channels, Burns being one of them. But I had to give him reasonable cause.

Unfortunately, I didn't have the answers to his questions.

The umpires yelled for the game to get going. Grave Diggers ran into their dugout before they ran back out, taking the field first. We were up against Holy Bats from the Sleepy Hollow Baptist Church. Pastor Brown was up first.

“Hey, batter, batter, batter!” Grave Diggers screamed. They had their cleated feet propped up on the edge of the dugout, and their fingers grasped the chain fence. “Swing!” they yelled as soon as Vernon Baxter pitched the ball straight for home plate.

Pastor Brown made contact with the ball, sending it straight out to right field.

“Catch it, Jack Henry!” I screamed and jumped up and down in the stands.

Jack Henry caught it and the crowd went crazy. My heart swelled with pride.

“Everyone is having such a great time.” Hettie Bell climbed to the top of the stands and sat down next to me.

She looked cute in her cutoff jeans, tank top and sandals. Her bob was pulled back on the sides with clips.

Each hand held a large Styrofoam cup.

“It's fun.” I pointed to one of the church deacons, who was up to bat next.

“I got you a Diet Coke.” She handed me the cup. “I figured it's your form of relaxation over yoga.”

“Thanks, girl.” I took it and sucked down a big gulp just as O'Dell Burns hit a bunt.

Vernon Baxter ran up between home plate and the pitcher's mound to grab the ball. He threw it to John Howard Lloyd, who was at first.

In the flash of an eye, I saw the base move to the right. I blinked my eyes. The base moved a little more to the right.

The deacon and John Howard danced around each other to see who could get to the base first.

If I didn't know better, I would have thought it was Mamie Sue's ghost playing a joke, but it wasn't. She was sitting next to me laughing so hard, I thought she was going to fall off the top bleacher.

“Emma!” someone screamed from the field. My eyes slid over to where it was coming from.

“Oh shit,” I said.

Junior Mullins kicked the first base bag one more time before the deacon and John Howard fell on top of each other. Junior grinned ear to ear, smoke coming out the top of his head.

“That's what you get for setting my toupee on fire!” Junior waved his fist in the air at John Howard.

“Are you okay? Are they okay?” Hettie Bell didn't know whether to laugh like the crowd was doing or cry. She put her hand over her mouth. “Did the base move?”

“I don't think so.” I took another swig of Diet Coke to help ease the pain of seeing Junior.

Seeing Junior meant one thing.

“Oh yes it did.” Mamie smacked her hands together. “I swear. Junior Mullins was always playing tricks. He is so funny.”

Ahem
, I cleared my throat to keep back the tears. I wanted to run away. This job as a Betweener was getting harder and harder to deal with. They made me feel crazy.

“How do you do, Emma Lee?” Junior waved his hands from right field, where Jack Henry was staring at me. He looked like a smokestack standing out there.

By the look in Jack Henry's eyes, I could tell he knew it wasn't just by coincidence John Howard and O'Dell had collided. The umpires called the deacon out and the game continued.

Slowly, I shook my head to let both Jack Henry and Junior know I acknowledged them. Needless to say, Junior ruined what little joy there was with Grave Diggers winning their season opener.

“We have to talk.” Jack Henry ran off the field and grabbed me by the arm before I could get the hearse door unlocked. “And not just about us, though it's the important one I'd like to discuss first.”

“I agree, we do need to talk. But right here isn't the place.” I wanted to get over to the post office to stake out the P.O. boxes.

Sleepy Hollow's post office didn't hold normal hours for P.O. box owners. They were only open from 3:00 to 5:00 p.m. on Sundays. It was pretty darn close to 3:00 p.m.

“Fine. I'll come over,” Jack Henry said with a stern face.

“It's not a good time.” I fidgeted with my keys.

“When then?” he asked. “Please don't say tomorrow. I didn't sleep all night. I couldn't call because of your phone and I came by this morning, but you weren't there.”

“I went to church.”

“You what?” He smirked, knowing I never went to church.

“Yep, me getting a little religion,” I said. He didn't seem amused. “Fine. I have a ­couple errands to run, and then I'm going to the Auxiliary meeting at seven. You can come over after that.”

“And be prepared to talk about the first base thing,” he warned before he bent down and gave me a sweet kiss on the cheek. “I love you, Emma Lee. And it felt good seeing you in the stands today.”

He walked away without expecting me to say
I love you
back, even though I did. Unfortunately, I didn't want my heart to get any more broken when he told me he was going to be moving away from me. Far away.

“Jack Henry,” Pastor Brown called as he ran after him. “I need to report something.”

That got my attention. I meandered my way over to them, like my conversation with Jack Henry wasn't over.

“One of the collection plates is missing,” he said.

“What do you mean?” Jack Henry asked.

“At the end of ser­vice we collect the offering. Then the deacons put all the money collected into one big collection plate. They lock it up. I count it and leave it for Mable Claire to count on Monday mornings before she takes it to the bank for a check and balance, keeping everyone accountable type of thing.” He went on to say how the deacons had done their job. He'd gone in to count the money. He'd gone to the bathroom, and when he'd come back, the collection plate full of money had disappeared.

“Why don't you follow me down to the station and I'll get you to give a formal statement.”

Pastor Brown agreed.

“Weird stuff is happening around Sleepy Hollow,” Jack Henry said to me after Pastor Brown walked off to his car. “You and your little friends don't know anything about it, do you?”

“No.” My brows wrinkled with contemplation. “No. What else is happening?”

“Artie has been coming into his store in the mornings and finding someone has been combining the fruits and vegetables. His surveillance isn't showing anything. Sanford Brumfield's goats are getting out again, and he even has surveillance. Nothing.” He sighed. “I guess I'm going to have to get more patrols out.”

I glanced over at the hearse. Mamie and Junior, his head still smoking, were standing there looking back at me. I wasn't so sure those two were quite so innocent.

“See you tonight.” I reached for Jack Henry's hands and squeezed them before I darted back to the car.

“Spill it,” I told them when I had safely pulled away from any traffic that might see me talking to myself. “Why are you here, Junior?”

“It's as simple as this.” Junior rested his elbows on the long front seat of the hearse, his body leaned up from the back. “Someone in that home of the near dead killed me. I told my family not to stick me in there, because once you go in, with your faculties or not, you don't leave. ‘Home of the near dead' is what I call it. So you better saddle up with Jack Henry and get to making babies so they can take care of you when you are older, not stick you in some home. Or die alone, like Mamie Sue here.”

Mamie nodded in agreement.

“Someone killed you too?” I groaned.

This was becoming a habit. The last Betweener clients were a pair. Died different times like these two, but still the same murderer. I wondered if Junior and Mamie had had the same killer. If so, what did they have in common besides the fact that both of them had been older?

“Yep.”

“Do you know who did it?”

“Now, if I knew who killed me, I'd be over at their house scaring the shit out of them. I've already torn up Artie's Meat and Deli because he was always a jerk when I went in there.” Junior was a feisty one. He was so thin, his eyes were buggy. He pointed to his head. “I outta spook John Howard again for setting me on fire.”

“Is that thing going to smoke all the time?” I waved my hand in the air to clear the smell of burning fake hair.

“Hell, I don't know.” He leaned back and looked out the window.