A Ghostly Undertaking Page 14

  “There is nothing to tell.” I pretended to lock my lips with my fingers.

  “No one can go on a date with that hunk and say nothing to tell.” She batted her heavily laden eyelashes, exposing the silvery glittered eye shadow. “You aren’t one of those girls who doesn’t give details, are you?”

  “I guess I am.” I shrugged and pushed past her, letting myself out of the bathroom.

  “I expect details when you come in for a trim-­up in a ­couple weeks,” she hollered after me. “I’ll put you on the books and tell you the appointment when I see you at Eternal Slumber.”

  “You do that,” I said over my shoulder. I was definitely going to keep up the hair appointments, but nothing was going to get these lips to talk.

  Everyone knows that loose lips sink ships, and I was already doing a good job of that without the help of gossip.

  “Can I get a cup of coffee?” I sat down at the counter.

  “Coming up.” Cheryl grabbed a mug and filled it up. She sat it in front of me and leaned on the glass top. Her hair tumbled over her shoulder. “Thanks for talking to Zula about the doughnuts.”

  “Sure. Can I ask you a question?” I glanced around the café. No one was staring at us. The coast was clear. “You know that Granny is an obvious suspect in Ruthie’s death and I’m trying to figure out how to prove she didn’t do it.”

  “Yeah.”

  “You mentioned that you get up and bake doughnuts at three A.M.” I took a quick sip. “Did you happen to see anyone unusual around that time?”

  “I didn’t want to say anything, nor spread gossip, but now that you asked . . .” She hesitated and then waved her hand in the air. “I saw three ­people that night.” She leaned in closer; her gaze darted around before she realized no one was watching. She lowered her voice. “I saw Zula and Doc Clyde going into his office around three A.M. and some camper over in the square.”

  So Granny was with Doc Clyde? But why three A.M.?

  “Are you sure it was Granny?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay.” I shook my head. That was a question for Granny. “What about the camper? Did they have on overalls and crazy hair?”

  She nodded.

  “Man or woman?”

  “I couldn’t tell.” She pulled back. “I was so taken off guard by Zula and Clyde that I didn’t pay much attention to the camper.”

  “How do you know it was a camper?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t. I just assumed it was someone here for the caves.”

  A customer sat down in the seat next to me and looked over the menu.

  “Thanks, Cheryl.” I got up and waved bye. She gave a slight smile as if it had pained her to tell me about Granny’s late-­night visit.

  Was Granny sick and not telling me, or anyone, for that matter? What about this camper?

  John Howard and Cheryl Lynne both saw someone around the time of the murder, three A.M., but who was it? And why were they in Sleepy Hollow?

  Chapter 24

  The next item on my list was to visit Slick­lizzard, Kentucky, to investigate exactly who was in that picture.

  From John Howard and Cheryl Lynne’s descriptions, the Midnight Murderer—­my new nickname for the killer, which I thought was very clever since it reminded me of the exposés on Dateline NBC—­looked a lot like the persons in the photo. Creepy.

  But I had another order of business to take care of before I headed out of town.

  Talk to Charlotte.

  I pulled the hearse in front of Eternal Slumber—­not my normal parking space, but I was in a hurry. I had to tell Charlotte about Granny’s midnight trip to Doc Clyde’s and see if she could wiggle the truth out of Granny.

  I dashed up the front steps and into the vestibule.

  “Charlotte?” I yelled into the funeral home. If anyone knew something about Granny being sick, it was probably going to be Charlotte. “Charlotte?”

  Granny had a tendency to keep life issues from me because of the “Funeral Trauma,” and if she did have something seriously wrong, which I’m sure she did, because she would never call the doctor in the middle of the night, she would tell Charlotte.

  I stomped into Charlotte’s office, mad.

  “I do not have the . . .” Funeral Trauma was what I was going to say, but decided to save my energy when Charlotte wasn’t in her office. In fact, her office hadn’t been touched since she left to go figure out Granny’s tax issue. I glanced out her office window and noticed that her car wasn’t there, which meant she was still in Lexington dealing with the tax-­evasion scandal.

  What if Granny needed to sell the inn in order to pay for her sickness? All sorts of things circled my head as I walked back to my office.

  I flicked the light on and went over to sit down in the desk chair but stumbled when the lights went out.

  I froze. I thought I was hearing the sound of my heavy breathing, but I wasn’t.

  “The lights didn’t accidently go off, did they?” I gulped, lightly patting my desk for any type of sharp tool. There was a hint of light coming from the pulled drapes.

  Stop, drop, and roll. My mind repeated the mantra the teachers stuck in our heads. Only if it was a fire. I held my breath and listened for any movement from the intruder.

  I had to somehow crawl over to the window and open the curtains.

  Suddenly, an arm went around my neck. I was yanked back so hard, my feet came out from under me. Evidently the intruder didn’t want me to fall, but I did and I rolled onto my knees, scrambling toward the door.

  My ears buzzed, but I could still hear someone reaching out into the dark feeling around for me.

  “Nosy!” The voice was harsh and cold. I couldn’t make out if it was male or female, but I did know that I had to get the hell out of there or I was really going to be laid out next to Ruthie.

  When something grabbed my ankle, I kicked it and hit something.

  “Son of . . .”

  It wasn’t enough for them to let go. They dragged me by my ankle, spinning me around before they let go and flung me into the two chairs in front of my desk, which made me realize where I was in my office.

  Pain racketed inside my head. I felt something warm trickle down my cheek.

  “Oh my God!” I was sure I had been shot. “Help!” I screamed for anyone, anything to hear me.

  If John Howard, Vernon Baxter, or Mary Anna were there, they’d be in the basement, where all the work takes place. And that was the best insulated place on earth.

  I struggled up to my feet by holding on to the chair arms. Adrenaline took over and I picked the chair up, swinging it in the dark like a windmill until I made it over to the window and yanked the curtain down.

  “Hold it!” Jack Henry yelled from the hall when the intruder ran out of my office.

  I rushed out after the intruder, who I could see was wearing overalls and a ski mask.

  “Out of the way!” Jack Henry yelled at me, the intruder stuck between us.

  There was no way I was letting this person get away. I lunged toward him. He dodged, grabbing me by the arm and throwing me into Jack Henry.

  It took a minute for us to untangle ourselves and Jack Henry to jump up and run out the door after whoever was there to kill me.

  “Shit! Emma Lee!” Jack Henry stumbled back into the funeral home. I hadn’t moved from where he left me.

  “I’ve been shot.” I held my hand on my cheek as the blood dripped to the floor.

  Jack Henry rushed over and kneeled down beside me.

  He moved my hand and held my face, tilting it at all angles.

  “You haven’t been shot.” He pulled me to my feet. “You have a gash in your head that will probably require stitches.”

  “I’m not going to the hospital.” I shook my head. If Vernon was downstairs, he’d be able to
do a little stitching for me. “Did you see where he went?”

  “No.” He put his gun back in his holster. “Why did you go after him?”

  “Because,” I groaned. I went back into my office and into the bathroom. Jack Henry followed and flipped on every single light switch on the way. “I couldn’t let him get away.”

  “Emma Lee, I told you to leave it to the police.” He took my head and tilted it toward the bathroom light. He took the hand towel and dampened it before putting it on my head.

  After he sat me in my office chair, he got me a glass of water and retrieved Vernon from the basement.

  As Vernon stitched me up, I briefly told them what I had learned about Granny’s midnight doctor’s visit and I how I was coming back to ask Charlotte if Granny was ill when I was attacked.

  “Clyde and Zula have gone out on a few dates,” Vernon casually said as his elbow went up and down in the air with each new stitch he was putting into my scalp.

  “What?” I screeched; my head pounded.

  “She didn’t tell you about it?” Vernon pulled on the thread, I grimaced. “Ruthie and I went on a double date with them a week before Ruthie was murdered.”

  My mouth dropped. I suddenly felt faint. There was a lot about Granny I didn’t know.

  “They make a nice ­couple.” Jack Henry smiled. He looked at me playfully. He knew the new information about Granny’s love life was killing me.

  “That means”—I jumped up and kissed Vernon on the cheek—“Granny didn’t kill Ruthie. She was with Doc Clyde.”

  “Don’t you think that the intruder today might be our killer?” Jack Henry asked a very good question.

  I had been so wrapped up in proving that Granny didn’t do it that I didn’t place the intruder.

  “Vernon, I’m asking you to keep this between us.” Jack Henry gestured to my head. “Official police business that I’m not ready to let the public know just yet.”

  Vernon nodded.

  “And I don’t want the community to feel threatened.”

  Vernon continued to nod and let himself out.

  Jack Henry waited until we heard the basement door before he turned back to me. “One thing we do know is that this person has overalls.”

  “I was trying to grab the mask.” I went over to the office closet when I noticed the door was ajar. I opened it and found Earl’s tin box had been rummaged through and the picture had been taken out of the frame and ripped into pieces. I bent down. Picking up the pieces, I let them fall through my fingers.

  “What is all of that?” Jack Henry stood over me.

  “It was nothing, but I’m beginning to think it’s evidence.” The ring was gone, but the other junky stuff was still there. I reached into my pocket and pulled out the snapshot I had stuck in there before I went to see Cheryl Lynne. “They didn’t get this.”

  I held it up over my head and gave it to Jack Henry. As he inspected it, I got up and went to the bathroom to wash the blood out of my hair before it dried.

  “That is the same picture as the one that is in pieces,” I yelled over the running faucet. I picked and pulled the blood from my hair. The new highlights weren’t looking so good. “It’s Earl Way’s family. Look at the back.”

  I took the towel and gently rubbed my wet hair on my way back in the office.

  Jack Henry was sitting in my chair, writing in his notebook.

  “I’m writing all the names down and going to check this out.” He didn’t look up. “They were looking for something. What else was in that box?”

  He jotted more notes as I described the fancy ring. “There was a ruby missing from the bottom of the shield on the ring.” Not that we were ever going to find the gem, but like Jack Henry would say, no stone unturned. “I’m glad you came by when you did.”

  “Oh, yeah.” He glanced up and with a crooked smile he said, “The mayor called and told me that someone saw you talking to yourself at Higher Grounds. Since she knew we were friends, she thought she’d tell me to check on you.”

  “That was nice of her.” I laughed. “I did try to act a little cuckoo on purpose.”

  I didn’t go into detail because I could tell Jack Henry really got me. He was probably the only person other than my parents who truly understood me.

  “And she said that Hettie Bell was close to getting all of those signatures.”

  “No way!” I gasped.

  “Yep.” He stood up. Holding the edge of the picture, he shook it at me. “I’m taking this back to the station and I’m going to put all of these names in the database to see what I come up with.”

  “As far as I know, Earl didn’t have a next of kin.” I recalled his funeral. “That is probably why Earl left the inn and everything else to Granny.”

  “Someone knows something.” He pointed to the picture. “The same someone running around here has the same overalls that these ­people do.”

  “I think that you should check out Beulah again. I think she was attacked from the front.” I didn’t give him my source. He didn’t say anything, just made a note in his little notebook.

  I glanced out the window. The curtain rod dangled off the hinge from where I had pulled down the curtains. John Howard would be able to fix those for me.

  “You stay put. Lock the doors and don’t let anyone in.” Jack Henry gave me orders before he left.

  Little did he know how stubborn I was.

  Chapter 25

  Slicklizzard.

  The small wooden-­plank sign was driven into the ground.

  “I guess we are here.” I zoomed past the sign, glad I didn’t blink.

  Slicklizzard was so far off the beaten path, the map on my phone didn’t even pick it up when I typed it in.

  “Earl never took me here.” Ruthie looked out the window. There was sadness in her voice.

  “Ruthie”—­I reached over to give her some comfort—­“that doesn’t matter. All that matters is we figure out who did this to you. Besides, you had some nice dates with Vernon Baxter.”

  There was no way I was going to agree with Ruthie. Earl loved Granny. There was no denying it.

  “Vernon was fun.” Ruthie smiled, glancing out the window. “He liked to play Scrabble.”

  I let Ruthie bask in her memories as I pulled into the only restaurant I saw.

  Spare Time Country Cooking.

  “I’m going to go in and ask for directions to the courthouse.” I looked in the rearview mirror and made sure the stitches were covered over with my hair. I opened the car door and got out.

  Ruthie wasn’t going to let me go alone, she followed right alongside.

  “Take a seat, darlin’.” The woman behind the counter casually looked at me as she managed to clean off a ­couple of tables. “You need a menu?”

  “No, I’m looking for directions.” I stepped into the tiny restaurant, noticing that the men at the bar had rotated their stools around to look at me.

  Old tin signs hung on the wall, giving the feel of a cozy Southern diner.

  “You are lucky we are here.” One of the old men at the bar twirled back around to face the kitchen area. “We were about to leave after this last cup of coffee.”

  “Great!” I smiled and walked up to the one empty stool. I plopped my purse on the counter. “I’ll take a cup too.”

  “Shirley, put on another cup of coffee in your spare time!” he hollered.

  The waitress that greeted us sauntered behind the counter and switched out the coffee filters.

  “Bobby Poor.” He held out his dry thick hand for me to shake. “I named the place Spare Time because it reflects how often I’m open. In my spare time.”

  “Oh.” I smiled at his way of thinking. “Very clever.”

  “Me and my boys come here every morning.” He looked down the bar stools at the other older men. �
��Ain’t that right, boys?”

  They all nodded. One John Deere cap after another.

  “Where you going?”

  “I’m looking for someone related to the Payne family from Slicklizzard.” I thanked Shirley when she sat the fresh cup of coffee in front of me. I reached over to grab a ­couple creamer packets from the small brown bowl.

  “You are the third person who has come in here asking about the Paynes in the last ­couple of days.” Shirley searched me like I had a plausible explanation.

  “Really?” I was sure one of them had to be Jack Henry since he was investigating Ruthie, but who was the other?

  “Just yesterday a pretty young thing came in here claiming to be Earl Way Payne’s granddaughter,” Bobby Poor said.

  “Granddaughter?” Ruthie got real close to Bobby. “Earl didn’t have any son or daughter to have a granddaughter.”

  “I didn’t think Earl Way had any kids himself.” I continued the conversation, trying not to give anything away.

  “Listen here.” Bobby Poor’s voice broke with a husky tone. “You tell me why you are here and asking so many questions about Earl Way. Can’t anyone die in peace nowadays?”

  “It wasn’t like he had anything to leave behind.” Shirley washed the mugs in hot, soapy water in the sink behind the counter. “His theory was spend it while you were alive.” She laughed. “I remember him saying, Shirley, can’t take it with you. Have you ever seen a U-­haul behind a hearse?”

  All the men laughed but Bobby Poor. He was waiting for my answer.

  “I’m his step-­granddaughter, Emma Lee Raines.” I nodded.

  “You Zula’s granddaughter!” He smacked me on the back. “We love when she comes to visit. Earl brought her here a time or two.”

  “Oh . . . !” Ruthie called out, holding her heart. “He did love her more! I don’t care if I never cross over to see him again!” She disappeared into thin air.

  “I am and Granny is in a bit of trouble.” I explained over another cup of coffee about Ruthie’s death, but left out the ghost part. “I have to prove she didn’t kill Ruthie.”

  “We knew that girl wasn’t his granddaughter, so we told her we didn’t know nothing about Earl Way, but he left here with his sister and never came back,” Bobby said.