A Ghostly Undertaking (10 page)

 

Chapter 15

A
few minutes later, I and my little stash from Granny's attic were in the hearse and pulling up to the funeral home. I had to get the loot in before anyone saw me, but it was too late.

“Good afternoon.” Jack Henry pulled up behind the hearse in his police cruiser.

When our eyes met, his smile widened, his teeth strikingly white against his handsome face. Every single part of me tingled. I gripped the picture frame in fear I would get weak in the knees.

“Hi, Jack Henry.” I waved and reached back in the hearse to get the picture and box. I sat them against the car and slammed the door shut before walking over to his car.

I gulped, trying not to give any inclination that my heart sank to my stomach when Jack Henry's familiar scent trickled up my nose. Every part of him was amazing and every woman knew it, including me.

“What in the world do you have there, Emma Lee?” I followed his finger to the picture.

For an instant I wondered if Ruthie hadn't died and he didn't need me for the investigation would he have still asked me out or taken the time to pull his car behind mine. I shook the thought out of my head. Of course he wouldn't have asked me out. “I . . . I got this stuff that might be some clues from Granny's attic.”

“Is that right?” He looked between the two, unimpressed. “We need to discuss that whole situation over dinner tonight.”

“I thought it was just karaoke.” I lifted a brow, leaving me once again with the thought that he might, just might have a little inkling of feelings for me.

“It was, until it got all over town that you were going to woo me to let Zula off the hook.” He flashed an evil grin.

“I see Beulah Paige Bellefry's rude comment got back to you.” I propped myself up on my elbows on the rolled-­down window to get a better look at him in his uniform, which made me inwardly swoon. “I can't believe her. If they only knew we were working on finding the killer to keep them safe.”

“Darn.” Jack Henry smacked his hands together. “I was prepared to be wooed.”

“You go on, Jack Henry.” I shooed him away and stepped back from the car. “You go arrest somebody until you pick me up at five thirty for dinner.”

“It's a date.” He pulled the gear shift down and took off.

The date was going to be either glorious or a disaster. He was playing it way too cool that I was able to see Ruthie and that I was trying to figure out who killed her. I knew I was going to have to play my cards right. And getting to the salon on time was exactly my first step in doing so. I had to look perfect.

I turned and headed up the funeral-­home steps.

 

Chapter 16

I
was right, Charlotte was working away on something, which made it easy for me to slip into my office and store the picture and box.

I sat the picture down. Opening the office curtains, I let the sun trickle in, resting its light on the image. I backed away to get a better look—­after all, I had only gotten a glance at it in the hallway and the lighting in the attic wasn't good since it was provided by my cell phone.

“Eww.” I shivered. “It's even uglier in the direct light.”

Ruthie was insistent that these six faces staring back at me had some sort of significance to her life. But did it have anything to do with her murder?

I couldn't help but wonder if I was going to be wasting my time trying to find out exactly how Ruthie was tied to the photograph—­but anything to help Granny off the suspect list wasn't a waste of time.

Charlotte's heels clicking down the hardwood-­floored hall between our offices caught my ear.

Quickly I shoved the items in the corner of the office closet and drew the curtains closed. The last thing I needed was Charlotte questioning me on what it was and where I had gotten it.

“Emma Lee, what is all this talk about Granny selling the inn to a developer?” Charlotte sashayed into my office. She put her hand on the door and leaned on it. Her long red hair was straight as a pine needle this morning, which made me envious. She managed to fix her hair in all sorts of styles, looking fabulous in each one.

“I don't know.” I shut the closet door. “I asked her about it this morning and she blew me off. You should go ask her.”

Granny and Charlotte had a different bond than me and Granny. Charlotte was a lot like Granny in the business world and dealing with ­people. Very poised, well-­mannered and good with numbers. Me, I was the one who was good with details, making sure things got crossed off the funeral lists, which made Charlotte and me a perfect tag team for Eternal Slumber . . . until the “Funeral Trauma.”

“And I heard Granny is a suspect in Ruthie's death.” Charlotte eyed me. She was always good at getting me to talk.

“She didn't kill Ruthie.” I rolled my eyes. I swear, the idle gossip in this town killed me. I straightened up the files on my desk by putting them in a pile. Charlotte hated it when my desk was a complete mess. And the top of the desk wasn't visible.

“I was murdered.” Ruthie plopped herself on the newly clean spot on top of my desk with her legs dangling, kitty-­slipper eyes rotating to the left and right from her shaking her feet. She zeroed in on Charlotte and said, “Tell Miss Hoity-­Toity I was murdered.”

“Maybe you should spend some more time with Granny instead of wasting all of your time in that office of yours.” I held a ­couple of files tight to my chest and I ignored Ruthie and tried to focus on Charlotte. It was true. Charlotte spent so much time at work, and with no dead bodies, I was beginning to think she was the crazy one.

“I would if I didn't have to worry about all the back taxes Granny didn't pay.” Charlotte's delivery of the news was as cold as one of our clients.

“What?” The files dropped from my hands, scattering all over the floor.

“She left us with a mess. And I'm sure Mom and Dad know nothing about it.” Charlotte slowly shook her head. Disappointment hung in the air. “Those two men that were in here, they are from the IRS. Granny owes a lot of back taxes on the funeral home. A lot of money. I'm working with a big accounting firm out of Lexington to try to straighten the mess out.”

Was that why Granny was so desperate to sell the inn
? For a split second, I lost my mind and wondered if Granny killed Ruthie since Ruthie wouldn't sell her half of the inn.
But the twitch.

“Yea, well I'm staying away from Granny until I get this fixed.” Charlotte turned around, stopped, and then turned back to face me. “Listen, Granny is going to jail for either murder or fraud, unless we can figure this thing out.”

My mouth dropped open. I couldn't say a word. How could Charlotte be so cold? There had to be an explanation. I turned to say something to Ruthie, but she was just as flabbergasted as I was.

“Do you think Granny did either of those things?” I asked Ruthie when Charlotte's office door clicked closed. It was so out of Granny's character, but a lot of things lately had been out of Granny's character.

“I don't know, Emma Lee.” Sadness formed in the creases of Ruthie's eyes, proceeding to her turned-­down mouth.

I was beginning to wonder if I knew Granny at all.

 

Chapter 17

N
o matter what was going on with the taxes, I was still on a mission to prove Granny didn't kill Ruthie and to go on my date with Jack Henry.

The pink awning over the windows of Girl's Best Friend Spa flapped in the spring breeze. The bell over the door sang “Diamonds Are a Girl's Best Friend” when I walked in. The spa was packed.

“It's a beautiful day,” Mary Anna chirped and swiveled the chair of a customer she was working on. The customer didn't take a breath when Mary Anna greeted me as she continued to tell Mary Anna her story. I was sure it was some sort of gossip.

“It sure is.” I muttered. Mary Anna had already returned to the conversation she was having with her client.

I looked around at the eight stations that were filled with all sorts of hair products. I had no clue what any of them were used for.

Hair dryers and flat irons of all shapes and sizes dangled off hooks. Different styles of brushes were neatly displayed on top of each station along with multiple bottles of hair sprays and gels.

“You can help yourself to an afternoon cookie and coffee if you want to, Emma Lee.” Mary Anna pointed the comb that was in her hand over to the waiting area.

I sat down on one of the two pink love seats that were positioned at the front of the store, right across from Mary Anna's homage to Marilyn Monroe. A huge portrait of Marilyn dripping in diamonds, her mouth spread open into a breathy grin, stared at me. The table underneath her had candles lit in her honor, along with a plateful of cookies.

The sun felt good shining through, almost warming my worried soul. There had been a ton on my mind before, but more now that Granny would have had a bigger motive to kill Ruthie.
Money.

Patiently I waited until it was my turn, going over all the clues in my head. Every single one of them pointed to Granny.

“All done!” One of the hairdressers swiveled her client around and caught my attention from the excitement in her voice. “You look fabulous!”

No!
I squinted when I thought I recognized the person.
It can't be.

It was.

Hettie Bell had gone from mousey to glamorous right before the hairdresser's eyes.

“Hi, Emma Lee.” Hettie's long black hair was cut into a chin-­length bob with blunt bangs hitting right above her brows.

“Hettie,” I gasped. “You look great.”

“I thought it was time for a change.” She took out her wallet and paid the stylist. “Especially since I'm going to be in the public eye getting my little petition signed.” She dangled a very official-­looking document between her newly manicured light pink nails. She looked 180 degrees different from this time yesterday. “Would you like to sign it?”

“No thank you.” I stood up when she approached, suddenly realizing she was much taller than me.

“You need to make sure you put this in your hair when it's wet.” The stylist gave Hettie a hot pink bottle with the word T
AM
E written in gold glitter across it. “This will take out that tight natural curl your hair has and make it easier to straighten.”

I scanned the rest of the new Hettie Bell as she stood there taking in the instructions on how to get the perfectly styled hair the stylist had created. She wore a short white skirt with big blue flowers on it and a tank top under a jean jacket.

“It was good seeing you anyway.” She waved the big pink bottle in the air; a big flower ring on her right ring finger caught my attention. “And tell that granny of yours that I'm going to get those signatures.”

Hettie threw the product in her purse. She didn't give me time to say anything. She was out the door and already had someone stopped on the sidewalk signing the petition.

“That girl is on a mission.” Mary Anna tapped me on the shoulder. “Come on. I've been dying to get ahold of that pretty little head of yours.”

I can't say that I was totally transformed like Hettie Bell, but Mary Anna did the best she could with what she had to work with.

There were just enough caramel highlights for someone to think that I had just gotten back from the beach and just enough bounce to think I had had a great time while I was there.

“No big bangs?” Mary Anna twirled me around to the mirror for a final look.

“No.” Playfully, I shook my head to see how it felt. “I do love it. You were right.”

“I always am.” She winked. “This one is on me.”

“No!” I protested. “I can't let you do that.”

“Honey, from what I hear, you need to save your money to get your granny off the hook with her tax evasion.” She used her scissors to clip off any last stray hairs dangling from my new layers.

“How did you hear about that?”

“You stay around here long enough, and you will hear a lot of things.” She waved the scissors in the air. “Right ladies?”

The other stylists laughed and agreed.

“Which reminds me . . .” Mary Anna paused, swiveled me around and looked me in the eyes. “I hear you have a date with hunky Sheriff Ross.” She winked, twirling my chair back to face the mirror.

Beulah.

“I'm not even going to ask where you heard that from.” I smiled, playing coy. If everyone in town wanted to think that Jack Henry asked me out because he wanted a date, it was fine with me. But Jack Henry and I knew why he asked me out.

One, to throw Charlotte off the day he was there questioning me about Ruthie. Two, because he needed me to talk to Ruthie's ghost to help solve her murder.

“Let me tell you, honey.” Mary Anna was as breathy as Marilyn. She waved the comb in the air. “Just like Marilyn said, a career is wonderful, but you can't curl up with it on a cold night. And it gets pretty chilly around here, if you know what I mean.”

I knew exactly what she meant.

“Here comes your favorite weekly appointment.” One of the hairdressers nodded toward the door.

Mayor May was standing outside talking on her cell phone. She looked like Barbie with those long legs, short skirt suit and long hair cascading down her back.

“You do the mayor's hair?” I was impressed.

“If you only knew how long it took me to straighten that mess of curls.” Mary Anna's lips pursed. She grabbed the can of hairspray. Using her hand to cover my eyes, she sprayed the sticky stuff all over my hair. “Every week I have to shampoo and straighten it. But she sure does look good after.”

About that same time, the mayor rushed in.

“You aren't going to believe it!” She threw her hands in the air and left them hanging in the sky. And we all knew what that meant. A good Southern woman throws her hands up in the air to give thanks for something really big. “The big guys in Frankfort want me to run for governor! Can you believe it?” She planted her hands on her chest. “Little ol' me, mayor of Sleepy Hollow, the next governor of Kentucky?”

“Then we better get your hair done!” Mary Anna forgot all about me.

Everyone rushed over to congratulate her, everyone but me. Ruthie was right. Mayor May's actions at Ruthie's layout were all an act to get to the next election.

While everyone was taking their turn to congratulate her, it was my chance to slip out of there. I didn't want the mayor to question me about the scandal with the tax evasion at the funeral home.

If it was true and Granny hadn't paid her taxes, couldn't they just take the inn from her for the payment?

Out on the sidewalk I stepped to the side and pulled out my notebook. That was a good question to ask Jack Henry tonight at dinner. And I noted that Hettie was wearing a ring.