A Ghostly Undertaking (11 page)

 

Chapter 18

T
he rest of the afternoon flew by until it was time to get ready for my dinner date . . . I used the word
date
loosely.

Blessed Assurance
, my phoned chimed when a text came across.

Mary Anna: Wear heels!

Me: Ouch!

Mary Anna: As Marilyn says, I don't know who invented high heels, but all women owe him a lot! Wear heels!

Me: OK!

There was only one problem. The only good pair of heels, and I mean high heels, were the red ones I bought in Lexington a year ago when I was there for a convention. I had spent all of my money on them. I'd only worn them around my small efficiency apartment.

When Charlotte and I took over the funeral home, we turned our parents' residence into a larger gathering space for the families and friends of our clients. That was when Eternal Slumber got all the business . . . before I got the “Funeral Trauma.”

Anyway, Charlotte wanted her own place to live and I was comfortable at the funeral home, so we made a little apartment in the back for me complete with a bedroom, kitchenette, bathroom and small television room. It was plenty enough for me.

It didn't take me long to thumb through my assortment of clothes in my closet.

“Boring.” I looked at the blue skirt suit hanging up and scooted the hangers over until I got to the black suit. “Even more boring.”

I took out the black-­and-­white pin-­striped short skirt. I took it to the mirror that hung on the hallway wall and held it up to me.

“That one.” Ruthie appeared over my shoulder. “You wear that with that white ruffled blouse, chunky necklace and fabulous red high heels.”

“How do you know about my heels?” I questioned her. No one knew about my heels . . . or so I thought.

“I just so happened to be in Lexington the same time you were. I hid behind another shoe rack when I saw you trying them on.” She smiled. “
Oh la-­la!
was my exact thought when I saw how you looked in them. You had the brightest smile on your face.”

“Really?” I could remember exactly how I felt that day I tried them on. “Then why didn't anyone else ask me about them?”

Unfortunately, living Ruthie would have told the world as soon as she got back into Sleepy Hollow.

“I can keep a secret if I need to.” She shooed me with her hands. “Hurry up and get ready.”

I smiled and did as she told me. I was beginning to regret that I didn't know Ruthie while she was alive. She was much more different than anyone knew.

Excitement twirled in my chest as I put on each piece of clothing. I came out a few minutes later to show her the finished product.

“No, no, no.” Ruthie shook her head. She walked over and unbuttoned the top three buttons. “There.” She fanned the blouse open. My collarbones and necklace were on display for the entire world to see. “Dare to be different.”

“I don't want to be seen as . . . loose.” I looked in the mirror.

“Listen.” She put her hands on each of my shoulders as we both looked into the mirror. “If Jack Henry wanted a librarian, he'd have asked out the boring one at the Sleepy Hollow branch, but he didn't. He asked you out.”

“You forget.” I reminded her. “This is not a real date.”

The knock at the door made my heart fall straight down into my toes, like a roller coaster. Ruthie was gone.

After one more quick look in the mirror, I opened the door.

“Wow.” Jack Henry's mouth fell open. His eyes sparkled. “You look amazing.”

“Thank you.” I smiled and stepped out the door. I made sure I locked it before we headed out to his car.

“I'm sorry you have to be seen in the cruiser.” He pointed to the Sleepy Hollow cop car. “Just like you, company car.”

“I don't mind.” I went to the passenger side of the car.

“No, no.” Jack Henry rushed around his car with his finger pointing at me to stay put. “We are going to do this the right way.” He grabbed the door's handle the same time I did. “I'm going to open all of your doors tonight.”

Like a good Southern woman, I let him open the door. After I got in, he ran around the car and jumped in.

“Ready?” He turned the key and started the car.

“Ready.” My heart was about to jump out of my body. There were so many things that churned inside. I pulled down the hem of the short skirt, trying to cover up as much as possible, which wasn't much.

Did I bring up the clues I had found?
Even though they might seem big to me, they might be insignificant to solving Ruthie's murder.

Was this a date or not?
Either way, I wanted to seem like I was fun and not the funeral girl he knew.

Was he going to offer me a drink?
I had never had a drop. Granny always called it truth serum. The truth was, I had been head over heels for Jack Henry Ross our entire lives. One little problem: he didn't know it and I didn't want that truth to come out.

“Okay,” I waited for us to cross the county line before I got out my notebook. I had to say something. The silence was killing my nerves. “I've come up with some really solid stuff that I think you are going to be able to use to find the killer.”

“Slow down.” He laughed, looking over at me. He reached over. His fingers were cool and smooth as he touched my hand to put away the notebook. “We have all night to discuss what you have uncovered. Ruthie isn't going anywhere.”

“But I thought you wanted to discuss the case.”

“I want to have dinner with
you
.” He glanced at me and then back at the road; there were touches of humor around his mouth and near his eyes.

“Oh.” I put the notebook away and relaxed into my seat. “Where are we going?”

“I thought I'd take you to this little Italian place just outside of Lexington.” He used the buttons on the steering wheel to turn the radio on. The cool sounds of Frank Sinatra flowed through the speakers.

“Lexington is forty minutes away.” Not that I wasn't excited about being with Jack Henry Ross for forty minutes, dinner, and another forty minutes.

“Do I need to get permission from your mom and dad?” He gave a saucy wink that sent butterflies all over my body. His eyes scanned my bare legs before he looked back at the road.

“You don't have to make this out to be a date.” I blew off his flirty comments. I was used to hearing all about Jack Henry's come-­ons and wished it upon myself a few times, but we were adults now, not teenagers playing spin the bottle. “You and I both know that we are here to solve a crime for different reasons. You want to find a killer by using Ruthie and I want to save Granny.”

“I don't think that's true.” His jawline tensed visibly. “If all I wanted was information, I would have brought you in for questioning, not ask you out to dinner.”

“So this is a . . .” I pointed between the two of us.

“Date?”

“Yeah, that.”

“I'd like to think so.” He turned his smile up a notch. “And I like your new hairstyle.”

Suddenly I was blissfully happy and completely forgot about Ruthie . . . until.

“I told you that you needed a new 'do and to unbutton that blouse.” Ruthie propped her kitty slippers on the middle console from the backseat. “And he doesn't want to talk about my killer, which means this is a date.”

I glanced back, trying not to be so obvious, and gave her the stink eye.

“Tell Ruthie hello.” He smirked, his eyes forward and his hands on the wheel. “Can't you tell her that you don't need a chaperone tonight?”

Ruthie didn't need to be told. When I looked back, she was gone. I turned around and relaxed back against the seat in relief.

“She must've heard you.” I reached over and turned up the radio as Frank belted out “Fly Me to the Moon,” because that was exactly how I felt.

 

Chapter 19

T
he windy country two-­lane road to Lexington had always been a favorite drive with all the beautiful Kentucky bluegrass and never-­ending horse farms. I had been on this road many times with Granny. She used to take us shopping in the big city before the start of school.

Charlotte always picked out the tighter shirts, shortest shorts, while I picked out the capri pants and sweaters. Not today: I glanced down at my unbuttoned blouse, resisting the urge to button a ­couple of them.

He did say this was a date.
At the risk of looking like a sixteen-­year-­old love-­struck teenage girl, I glanced out the window to hide my giddy smile.

Out of the corner of my eye I could tell Jack Henry was staring at me. I shifted. I tugged at the edge of my shirt so the unbuttoned buttons lined up with the empty button holes, becoming a little more taut.

I looked over and his eyes darted up to mine.

Ahem
, he cleared his throat and looked away.

“You do look nice tonight,” he confirmed for the second time since I had been in the car.

By nice, I knew he meant the sexiness.

“Oh this.” I blew off the fact that I had been stressed for the better part of the day about what I was going to wear.

“I don't think I've ever seen you in anything other than your capris and T-­shirt or a skirt suit.”

“I'm not sure wearing red-­hot heels and an unbuttoned shirt would be appropriate for picking up dead bodies from their homes, or greeting mourners at the funeral home,” I joked and slowly crossed my legs, letting the red high heel dangle from my toes, fully aware his eyes were taking it all in.

I tossed my hair and leaned back, looking over at him. His face reddened.

“I guess you're right.” He gripped the wheel. “It's a shame I haven't seen you outside your business role. But hopefully that will change.”

I turned my head toward the passenger win-dow to cover up the smile that I couldn't force off my face. I had been dreaming about this day for many, many years and my chance was finally coming true.

The lush oak trees branched out over the road like a canopy. Jack Henry was very cautious around every turn, so I laid back and enjoyed watching all of spring's new foals gallop in all the fields.

Jack Henry turned the car onto a little side street on the outskirts of Lexington.

A small red-­and-­green sign that read
Bella Vino Restaurante
pointed us to a parking lot with only five parking spaces. The small red building was nestled in a wooded area. B
ELLA
V
INO
was printed in white and outlined in green above the large windows that spanned the front of the restaurant. I could see inside that each front table, with large steaming family-­style bowls of pasta and baskets of bread, was filled with customers.

“Are you hungry?” Jack Henry turned the car off. He put his hands in his lap and looked at me.

“Yes.” I lied. I had always hated when I would hear a girl say she didn't eat much on a date because she didn't want to seem like a pig—­now, I was one of those girls. It wasn't the pig part that was the issue, it was my flip-­flopping stomach.

“I'm starving.” He opened the door and got out. Within a second, he was opening the passenger door and holding his hand out.

After swiveling my legs, I took his hand for him to help. A brief shiver rippled through me, making me wonder if I was going to make it through the night. The place looked awfully romantic and I didn't know how to do romantic.

His hand slipped up my arm and took me by the elbow, guiding me into the restaurant.

Authentic Italian music quietly played throughout the small restaurant. There were six tables with only one open. Exposed pale-­yellow-­painted brick walls made it feel as though we were in Italy. Even though I'd never been to Italy, it was exactly like I would have pictured it.

Each table was covered with a cream linen tablecloth. A single candle sat in the middle for light.

Fancy. I raised an eyebrow when I looked around. I corrected my posture and clasped my hands in front of me. The tables were set with beautiful china, a napkin folded neatly on each plate, and several utensils that I had no idea what they were used for.

“Reservation for Ross.” Jack Henry spoke with a smooth command when the hostess asked if she could help us.

“Right this way, please.” The young woman showed us to the empty table, where the dark wooden chairs sat side by side and not across from each other. She pulled out a chair and gestured for me to sit down.

“I'd like to move my chair across the table.” I pointed to the empty space between the table and the wall. The hostess picked up the chair without asking any questions.

Jack Henry blushed.

“Thank you.” I smiled and sat in the chair that was now across from Jack Henry, who was gracious enough not to make any offhand comments.

The black-­and-­white canvas pictures that hung on the restaurant walls reminded me of the picture that had suddenly appeared at the inn after Granny had stored it in the attic. Not that they were the same. They weren't. The photos that hung on the walls were of beautiful countryside scenes that looked to me like Italy, while Ruthie's photo was just plain scary, but they were all old-­looking, making them jog my memory.

“Ruthie was trying to find a next of kin.” I scanned the room and noticed every ­couple in the place was holding hands. I folded mine in my lap.

“Two Vino Specials.” Jack Henry politely smiled at the server who was still standing next to our table.

“Thank you.” She wrote down the order on her pad. “That will be right out.”

After she was a good three feet away, Jack Henry leaned over with his forearms planted on the table.

“Emma Lee,” he whispered, his eyes scanning the room. “The first rule in undercover work is that you can't be openly discussing what you have found out.”

“Oh.” I didn't even think about rules of undercover work. Nervously, I glanced around the room to see if I caught anyone staring at us. There wasn't.

Each ­couple was too wrapped up in their own conversations to even notice us.

“Not that they did or have been listening to us, but you always have to be ears and nose to the ground.” He tapped his ear, and then his nose.

“Do you really think someone has clued in that I'm helping you?” I asked. I hadn't said a word to anyone. Had he?

“I'm not saying they are, but you never know.” He stopped talking when the server came back over with an hourglass wine decanter with a ball cork stopper on top.

“Two Vino Specials are Bella's own house wine from one of her vineyards in Italy. Would you like to try before I pour?” The server uncorked the decanter.

“No, we are fine.” Jack Henry gave her the go-­ahead.

She elegantly poured the two wineglasses one-­quarter full before replacing the ball on the decanter and going to another table. I had the urge to put my hands out and politely turn down the wine, but I chickened out.

What was one glass going to hurt?
I picked it up and smelled it, like I had seen in so many romantic movies.

“Cheers.” He held his glass in the air. His eyes softly narrowed on me, making my stomach flip-­flop.

I followed his lead.

“Cheers.” Resisting the urge to down the whole thing, I took a drink and sat it back on the table.

Yuck!
I wanted to spit what was left in my mouth back in the glass. Making sure I didn't squirm when it went down, I grabbed the chair arm and swallowed.

My question—­whether or not he had mentioned to anyone that I was helping him in Ruthie's death because I could see her—­burned in my gut just as much as the wine burned going down my throat.

“Have you told anyone about my . . .” I looked around like a good detective before speaking, to make sure no one was listening. I leaned over the table and whispered “ . . . gift?”

I followed his eye straight to my cleavage popping out, then sat back, leaning into my chair. His eyes moved up to meet mine.

A wave of red crept up his face.

“Umm . . .” He grabbed his wineglass and took a gulp, then tugged at his collar. “No,” he said hastily. “No one. I'm not sure that anyone would believe that you do see Ruthie's ghost.”

“Good.” I smiled, letting him off the hook for checking me out. Although I kind of liked the idea that he might be attracted to me.

Regardless, I wasn't sure if seeing Ruthie's ghost was a one-­time fluke, but I sure hoped it was.

“I was going to let us enjoy the night and get to know each other better since we
really
don't know each other.” He slid his hands across the table and gently laid them overtop of mine.

My chest tightened, my breath quickened. My hands slipped out from under his and I cupped my wineglass. I took another drink of wine to try to dislodge the lump in my throat. The dizzy feeling I had felt years ago when he first touched me swept over me.

How could he say we didn't really know each other? Did he forget all about the spin the bottle incident that left me scarred?

“I mean, I know we went to school together and exchange pleasantries when we pass on the street, but I don't really know what your likes and dislikes are.” He took the ball off the decanter. “Would you like some more?”

I grabbed the glass and downed the wine, which I didn't like.

“Thank you.” I took an even bigger sip after he filled it. “I think we know more about each other than we realize. We are from a small town.”

Did he forget all the gossip? Or was he just not privy to it because he was a guy?

“I find it interesting that you see Ruthie.” He tapped the glass stem. “Who else have you seen?”

“No one.” I didn't want seeing ghosts to seem any crazier than it already was. I wasn't about to tell him that I saw Chicken Teater's ghost right after I was attacked by the plastic Santa. I hadn't seen Chicken Teater since, so I figured he was a fluke. Plus he'd been six feet under for many years. “Just Ruthie. Why do you ask?”

“Do you ever watch reality TV?”

“Not really.” I didn't want to tell him that Charlotte was too cheap to get anything but antenna TV in Eternal Slumber, not that there weren't reality shows on regular channels, but from what I'd heard, all the good ones were on cable.

“There's this gal in downtown Lexington and she connects ­people with their loved ones who have passed over.” He shrugged. “It's kind of cool, that's all.”

“I'm not a medium.” I bit my lip. At least I didn't think I was a medium.

“Maybe you should go see someone that is and let them help you figure out the extent of your abilities.” He took the napkin off the table and placed it in his lap. I followed suit. “You obviously have something if you can see and talk to Ruthie.”

“I'm hoping this is a one-­time gig.” I smoothed the napkin in my lap. It made me nervous to think I could possibly see more ghosts. “Besides, if I could see ghosts, I'd imagine I'd see more than just Ruthie.”

He smiled. Curiosity set deep in his eyes.

The server put a wood plate filled with cheeses and crackers between us.

“Your meal will be here soon.” She mixed two separate sauces together in a small bowl. “Is there anything else I can get you?”

“Another vino please.” He handed her the nearly empty decanter. She poured what was left into my glass. She nodded and left.

Jack Henry picked his glass up and drank the wine like it was water. I continued to follow his lead. My taste buds were getting used to the taste.

I watched Jack Henry put a ­couple pieces of cheese on a cracker and spoon a little bit of the mixture, the waitress had made on top.

“They have the best cheese.” He extended his little concoction to me. “You have to put on two slices to get the full sharpness.”

I couldn't resist another glance at him. There was a glint of wonder in his eyes. At the same time, we both smiled.

I took a nibble off the corner of the cracker and the damn thing crumbled into my lap.

“Shit,” I mumbled and swept the mess on the floor. My eyes squeezed shut just as a big sigh left my body. “Shit,” I said again, with the realization that I had just brushed the mess onto the floor of the most expensive restaurant I had ever been to.

If he did notice, he was gracious enough not to mention it.

“You have to pop the entire cracker in your mouth to get the full experience.” He held another cracker out to me.

I took it and followed his instructions.

“Mm.” He was right. It was the best cheese cracker I had ever had or maybe it was the best date I had ever had . . . though I had to keep reminding myself that it really was a date as much as a working date. I took another drink to clear my pallet. “You know, the medium thing.”

I'm not sure if it was the company, ambiance or both, but it was the best cheese I had ever tasted. And the wine . . . I didn't even like wine, but tonight it was becoming delicious.

Jack Henry was quick to fill up our glasses when the server came back. She put a family-­style plate filled with different pastas between us and two empty plates.

“Then our next date in Lexington should be a date with the medium and dinner.” His mouth curved with tenderness; my flesh prickled.

I wasn't sure what the Vino Special was, but it looked delicious. Having Jack Henry order without asking me made him even sexier than he already was.

Get a grip.
I downed the wine and helped myself to some more. I had to think about something else and thinking about Ruthie was a sure way of killing the strong attraction I was having toward Jack Henry.

“Did you hear what I said about the next of kin for Ruthie?” It was a big piece of information that seemed to hold some answers.