A Ghostly Murder Read online

  “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

  Junior’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.

  Chapter 9

  Istill don’t see what my medical file has to do with figuring out who killed me,” Mamie cried from the passenger seat of the hearse.

  The old mill was past town, deep in the country. The drive was beautiful. The road curved around the countryside and gave a good view of the mountains. It was a beautiful morning. The sun had already chased the morning fog away.

  “No stone unturned.” I repeated the mantra I had taken to heart since I had become a Betweener.

  I had learned I was sort of a ghost private detective. After all, it was me that had to figure out what happened to them. Medical history included.

  “You’ve been dead awhile, and if you don’t have any next of kin for me to question, I’ve got to start somewhere.” I looked over at her. “Plus your headstone reads, ‘I told you I was sick.’ ”

  “I know. I laughed so hard when I thought of it.” Her face hardened. Her lips puckered around her gums. “I never thought I was going to die from the hands of a murdering sonofabitch!”

  “Do you know anyone who had a beef with you?” I asked. “Besides Granny.” I eased the hearse around the road and pulled into the gravel drive of the old mill.

  Granny and Mamie obviously had a beef, but no one seemed to want to talk about it.

  She shook her head. The pillbox hat jiggled. She pulled a ­couple bobby pins from her hair and used them to keep the hat in place.

  My phone rang, and I pulled it out. Caller ID said it was Eternal Slumber. What did Charlotte Rae want now?

  “Hello?” I answered.

  “Emma Lee, it’s John Howard.” He announced himself like I didn’t know his voice. “Are you coming to work today?”

  “I’ll be there shortly. I had some business to take care of this morning. Why? Is something wrong?” John Howard never called me. I wasn’t even sure he knew how to use a phone.

  He came to work every day. Never missed. Once, he was so sick, I made him lie down and sip hot tea. He refused not to work. Hardest working man I had ever seen.

  “Nothing wrong. I was just wondering if I could head down and get the sports equipment this morning, since tomorrow night is our first softball game. I wouldn’t have time after work to do it and deliver it to the other guys.”

  “Absolutely!” I hit my head with my palm. I had totally forgotten to tell Jack Henry about the softball league and how I signed him up. “You go on and do what you need to do. We don’t have any funerals the rest of the week, so your workload is light.”

  “Thanks, Emma Lee.” John Howard hung up the phone.

  Fluggie Callahan was standing in the doorway of the mill, glaring at me. I held up a “one sec” finger and quickly texted Jack Henry.

  Eternal Slumber has a new softball team. You are on it. First game tomorrow night. I can’t wait to root you on. I put the phone on the seat and got out. Jack Henry wouldn’t bother texting back. He would call and ask me why I would put him on the team without asking. This way, if the phone was in the car, I wouldn’t hear it ring and feel
obligated to answer and then beg him to be on the team.

  “Gimme what ya got.” I followed Fluggie into her new office space.

  Fluggie gestured for me to sit down. She walked around her desk and sat in her chair. She patted her messy up-­do and pulled out a pair of glasses. She stuck them on the ridge of her nose and pushed them up.

  “Not a whole lot, but I thought you should know she left over a million dollars to Sleepy Hollow Baptist Church.” She scanned the insides of a folder before her magnified eyes looked up at me.

  “One million dollars?” I asked. “How did you find this out?”

  “I’ve got my informants.” She tapped her pencil on the desk. “There is a lawyer from Lexington involved in the entire transaction.” She slid a piece of paper across the desk with a name and number scribbled on it. “I smell a rat on this. First off, who leaves a small country church a million dollars? Secondly, I looked into courthouse records about the church, and there haven’t been any sort of renovations or anything close to being done that would amount to one million dollars.”

  I nodded and kept my eye on the paper. There was a niggling suspicion in my gut telling me Fluggie was right.

  “You tell me.” She sucked in a deep breath. “What has the preacher done with the money?”

  Sleepy Hollow Baptist wasn’t the only church in town, but it was the church that all the ­people I knew attended or at least belonged to. Pastor Brown had to be as old as dirt, and he had been the pastor there for as long as I could remember.

  “It isn’t unusual for members of the church to leave something to the church in their will.” I wanted to debunk any notions swirling around in my head telling me Pastor Brown wasn’t as holy as I had always thought he was. “And if I’m not mistaken, I do believe they post those generous donations in the church bulletins.”

  “Sounds like you need to do some investigating.” Fluggie’s homely face arranged itself into a grin. “Get your Sunday go to meetin’ clothes cleaned and ironed.”

  “It just so happens I saw Pastor Brown this morning, and he extended a personal invitation to church.” I grinned. It was a perfect excuse to nose around.