A Ghostly Undertaking (14 page)

 

Chapter 23

A
fter I left the courthouse, I went back to my office and marked John Howard's name off the list of ­people to see.

“Cheryl Lynne Doyle.” I tapped her name and pictured her with long blond hair and perfect body as she happily made those delicious doughnuts. Looks, brains and talent . . .
ugh
. “I'm coming to see you, Cheryl Lynne.”

I threw my notebook in my purse and flung it over my shoulder.

Within minutes I had the hearse pulled into a parking space right in front of Higher Grounds Café.

“I think Earl has a past.” Ruthie came out of nowhere, slipping up to me when I walked up on the sidewalk. “The more I think about the items you found and things he'd say, something is not adding up.”

“I understand that, but he is dead.” I rushed around the corner of Higher Grounds so I could talk to her without someone seeing me and accusing me of the “Funeral Trauma.” On second thought . . . “Earl didn't kill you, Ruthie Sue Payne!”

If I was getting set up for murder and now an attack, I wanted ­people seeing me act crazy so I could claim insanity, just in case.

A few ­people turned to watch me have my conversation with Ruthie's ghost, only they just saw me talking to the air.

“He is dead. How can a dead person kill you?” I questioned the air around me and twirled.

“What are you doing?” Ruthie whispered as if someone could hear her. She tugged at my sleeve for me to shut up. “They are going to lock you up. You said so yourself.”

“Good morning!” I yelled at a ­couple of the Auxiliary women standing outside of the café with their hands across their mouths as they stared at the crazy girl . . . me, before I headed on in.

“I've been to see Beulah.” Ruthie stopped right in front of me. I closed my eyes and walked right through her. A surge of electricity sent a jolt through me. “Are you listening to me?”

I gave a slight nod for her to continue.

“She has the same pinch on her neck that I have on my back.”

Okay, that stopped me dead in my tracks.

“Hi, Emma Lee.” Cheryl Lynne was wiping off the countertop. “Zula nearly bought me out of doughnuts this morning.”

“I'll be right back.” I did a pee-­pee dance, pretending I needed to use the restroom. I shut the bathroom door behind me and locked it. “Spill.”

“I obviously know you didn't try to kill Beulah, so I went to the hospital.” She paced the small room back and forth. “She isn't dead, but close to it.”

“Get back to the pinch mark,” I coaxed her to hurry up. I didn't want Cheryl to think I
was
crazy.

“They tried to use their hands, but I heard Jack Henry talking to the doctors.” She wrung her hands. “They said that someone had cleaned off their prints because they thought she was dead, but she had a faint pulse that couldn't be detected by touch, only machine. I got real close to look and see if they had big hands or small hands, just like you asked me, and there it was.”

“What?” I waited with baited breath.

“A mark just like mine on the right side of her neck.”

“Right side? Yours was on the left.” I reminded her.

“I didn't see my attacker, but I bet Beulah did!” Ruthie snapped her fingers in the air, before she pretended to strangle the air.

I followed suit and put my hands in the air like I had someone around the neck and then I put them down like I was pushing someone.

“I think you have something.” I smiled and pulled my notebook out of my purse and jotted down what Ruthie had seen. “Did Jack Henry say anything about it?”

“No, not a word and neither did the doctors.” Slowly she shook her head. “Now I know someone is trying to set you up.”

Her words made me shiver, sending goose bumps up my legs and arms.

“What do you mean? The police know I didn't kill you.” I was confused.

“No, but now the killer knows that you are investigating this and now they have tried to pin Beulah on you.” She looked up. Terror lay deep in her eyes, her brows furrowed with worry. “Someone is out to get you and Zula.”

Knock, knock, knock.

I jumped when someone knocked on the door, bringing me back to the living.

“Washing my hands,” I hollered and grabbed a paper towel before opening the door.

“Emma Lee!” Mary Anna's red lips curved up. “Oh . . .” She took me by the arm and led me back into the bathroom. She locked the door behind her and threw herself up against it. “Spill it!”

“Spill what?” For a brief second I freaked out. My palms sweating, I grabbed another paper towel and wiped them. Did she know I was trying to figure out who killed Ruthie? Did she know I could see Ruthie?

“Your date with Jack Henry.” She bounced in her white short dress that resembled the iconic dress Marilyn Monroe wore in
The Seven Year Itch
. “You know what Marilyn said.”

“No, what?” I had no idea of anything Marilyn said unless it came out of Mary Anna's mouth.

“Sex is part of nature, and I go along with nature.” She grinned. “So . . . tell me.”

“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

T
he 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.