A Ghostly Undertaking (12 page)

“The next of kin does have me interested.” He twirled the spaghetti noodles on his plate.

He even looked hot eating noodles. I forced myself to look away and down at my plate of pasta. I didn't bother with the noodles, I went straight for the cheese-­filled ravioli.

“You know Granny is redecorating the place and she put all of Ruthie's things in the attic.” The wine went well with the pasta. I took another drink. “I'm sure it is because she wants the developer to give her top dollar for the inn. But that is beside the point.”

I briefly told him about the ugly picture, including the details of the ­people and how it was brought back downstairs by someone other than Granny.

“Ruthie made sure I took it home.” I gladly accepted another glass of wine when Jack Henry gestured. “That was what I was getting out of the hearse when you pulled up.”

“You had some sort of box too.”

“I haven't opened it.” I filled my plate with more food. “I haven't had time. I'm not even sure what it is. Ruthie didn't even say anything about it. I'm sure it's not hers.”

“The mayor told me the meeting got really heated between Zula and that girl that works there.” He sat back and wiped his mouth.

“Hettie Bell.” I pointed my fork at him before I stabbed another ravioli and put it in my mouth. “She's a weirdo.”

With a mouthful, I was still able to tell him about the meeting and how I had seen Hettie at Girl's Best Friend Spa.

“She did have motive to be mad at Ruthie, but I'm not sure if she had enough anger to kill her.”

“What did she do?” He rested his elbows on the table.

“She asked for a day off. Ruthie told her no, but Granny let her take it.” My body seemed to have melted back into the chair.

Everything around me started to slow down. My heart. My breathing. The ­people around me. Even Jack Henry's lips moved in slow motion. I watched in a strange inner emotion of excitement thinking about his lips on mine.

“That could go against Zula too.” He waved his fork in front of me. “Emma Lee, are you okay?”

“Better than okay.” I bit my lip seductively. “Ouch.” I pressed my lips together after I bit it a little too seductively.

His brows furrowed. “I said that Zula letting Hettie off for the day could also work against her.”

“But there is something about Hettie that I can't put my finger on.” I tapped the wineglass, and then looked up.

Jack Henry suddenly became the most handsome guy I had ever seen, including any movie star out there.

“What?” His infectious grin set the tone.

“You are one good . . .” I stopped myself before I made more of a mockery of myself and professed my attraction to him. I pushed the glass away from me. “You are good at making me drink more wine than I should.”

He reached across the table for my hand.

“I think you've had enough to drink.” He patted me.

“No.” I laughed him off. “I'm fine.”

I lied, but was good at keeping it together. Or so I thought.

“What do you think about my clues so far?” Maybe my quick skills of crime-­solving were a turn-­on to him. Plus I was curious to know if I was on the right track.

“You've got some good stuff here.” He waved his hand in the air to signal the server that we were ready for the check. “Now that the mayor is going to run for governor, she's on my ass about solving this murder.”

“Oh, yeah.” I rolled my eyes remembering how she acted when she came into Girl's Best Friend Spa. “She was on the phone with someone in Frankfort when she came into the salon to get her hair done.”

“She is dead set on becoming governor. And I wouldn't put it past her to win either.” He took out his wallet and laid some twenties in the black tray the server had left. “You ready?”

“I am.” Sadness filled me when I realized the night was almost over.

Sure, he reached over and touched my hand, glanced at my legs, but not once had he tried to kiss me.

The room spun around when I stood up. I steadied myself and blamed it on my heels.

After he helped me back in the car, I planted my face on the window. The cold felt so good. I propelled my back to the seat when Jack Henry got in because I didn't want him to know or figure out that he was right . . . I had had too much to drink.

The first glass was too many, considering that I never drink.

“Are you ready for that karaoke?” He put the car in gear.

“You aren't serious, are you?” In a moment of crazy, I reached over and put my hand on his leg, giving it a little squeeze.

Immediately he looked down and then over at me. His lip curled up. “Yes, Emma Lee, I'm kidding.”

I let out a big sigh and leaned over, kissing him on the cheek. “Thank you.” I floated back to my side and leaned my head back on the headrest, relieved he wasn't going to follow through with embarrassing me.

“I think it's best to get you home.”

I waved my hand in the air. Suddenly I was too tired to even open my eyes.

Before I knew it, we were back in Sleepy Hollow and he was helping me out of the car.

I wasn't sure if it was the full moon or just Jack Henry in general, but he looked so good.

“Do you remember the time we played spin the bottle?” I stumbled and he wrapped his big strong arms around me, standing me up against the car. “You,” I jabbed his chest, “you got up and ran off when the bottle stopped on me and not Miss Hot Pants.” I snapped my fingers in the air. “What was her name?”

“I don't know.” He shook his head and laughed. For some reason, he found me to be amusing.

“Well, you hurt my feelings,” I slurred and wiped my mouth with the backside of my hand. “Was it 'cause you didn't want to kiss the scary funeral girl?”

“No, Emma Lee.” The moon cast down on his face. His jaw clenched. And his five-­o'clock shadow begged to be rubbed.

I lifted my hand to his face and stroked the whiskers. He pulled away.

“Emma Lee, I think we better get you inside.” He put my arm around his shoulder and his arm held me up around my waist. Suddenly my legs wouldn't work. He hoisted me in his arms, cradling me like a baby.

“I declare,” a gasp came from behind us. “It's only eight o'clock at night. What a shame.”

I whipped my head back over Jack Henry's shoulder to find Beulah Paige Bellefry on the sidewalk with her hands planted on her hips, taking in the entire scene.

“Good evening, Ms. Bellefry.” Jack Henry didn't pay her any attention and continued to walk with me draped in his arms like he would his dry cleaning.

“Yeah, go on and tell your hoity-­toity friends about this!” I yelled over his shoulder and pointed at her. “We have a history together!” I pointed from me to Jack Henry. “We played spin the bottle! Go tell them that, you busybody!” I put my hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “You sure have some strong shoulders,” I murmured.

“Emma Lee.” He hugged me closer.

“What?” I kept my eyes closed and rested my head on his shoulder. “She is evil. And if she tries to spread gossip about us, I will get her.”

“No you won't.”

Faintly I remember Jack saying something about water after he put me in bed, but as soon as he covered me with Granny's quilt, I was out.

 

Chapter 20

I
'm coming!” I held my head in my hands and peeled myself out of bed when I heard someone trying to beat down my private-­residence door at Eternal Slumber.

Bang, bang, bang!

“I'm coming!” I screamed and glanced in the dresser mirror on the way out of my bedroom. “Oh my gosh.”

I tried to rack my fingers through my new layered hairstyle that could no longer be classified as a style. The shorter layers were sticking up on the sides while the back was flat to my head. I wiped my fingers underneath my eyes to get off the smeared mascara.

Groaning, I rubbed my temples. My head was killing me.

Bang, bang, bang!

Without even looking at who was making all this commotion, I whipped the door open.

“Jack Henry?” I smacked my head when I remembered how I had gotten home last night. I rubbed my head and held the door open. “Ouch. Come on in.”

He was back in his Sleepy Hollow uniform, hat placed strategically on top. He stepped in, his eyes gazing downward.

I looked down to see what he was looking at.

“Oh gosh.” I fumbled to button up the blouse I had on from last night. In fact, I was wearing all of the same clothes from last night, even the red high heels.

“I'm so sorry about last night.” I tried to smile, but it hurt every single bone in my body to even think about it. I flung each of my feet, sending the high heels in different directions. Jack Henry ducked. “No coffee?”

I tried to make a joke, but quickly noticed that Jack was in no joking mood.

“Ah, oh.” Ruthie eyed him. “What happened last night?”

I ignored her, running my fingers along my hair and then wrapping my arms around my waist.

“He doesn't look happy to see you.” She shot her glance in my direction. “What did you do last night? He was yours—­hook, line and sinker. But now it looks like you made a stinker.” She snickered. I didn't find it too amusing.

I had completely screwed up any opportunity to ever go on a real date with him, much less have a dating future. He wasn't even being the Southern gentleman that I knew by taking off his hat.

“I'm sorry.” I started to apologize. “I
rarely
drink. Maybe one cocktail a week and I should have told you that little fact about me before I drank all of that wine last night.”

“We have a problem.” He stood with his legs apart like the police officers you see on those shows. He ignored my apology. “Beulah Paige Bellefry was found strangled.”

“Strangled?” I gasped, putting my hands up to my neck. Suddenly my headache got worse.

“Luckily, she isn't dead . . . yet.”

“Serves her right.” Ruthie tapped her kitty slipper. “She puts her nose in everyone's business. Anyone could've tried to kill her.”

Hello pot . . .
was what I wanted to say to Ruthie, but kept my mouth shut. Jack wasn't happy and it was no time to be fooling around with a ghost.

“Yet?” My eyes widened and I ignored Ruthie. Jack Henry's news was getting worse by the minute.

“She's in the hospital on life support.” He narrowed his gaze. “Did you leave your bed after I put you in it last night?”

“Does it look like it?” I looked down. I had the exact same outfit on that I had been left in. “Why would you say something like that anyway?”

Gosh, the last thing I remember, Jack Henry and I had a great time last night.

He pulled his little notebook out of his jacket pocket and flipped it open.

“According to some eyewitnesses, you were seen at Higher Grounds fighting with her, not to mention last night's encounter.”

“Last night?” I bit my lip trying to remember something about Beulah. Suddenly I realized that we had seen her, but didn't recall any words. “What about last night?”

Jack Henry's gaze narrowed with a burning question deep in his eyes. “You don't remember me carrying you into the funeral home and Beulah walking down the street?”

“Oh!” I raised my hand to my mouth with a shiver of vivid recollection. “Now, Jack. You know I would never hurt Beulah.”

­“People do odd things when gossip is spread around about them.” He wrote something in the notebook.

I wanted to grab that little pad out of his hands and rip it to shreds, but resisted the urge. I didn't want to go to jail for assault of an officer.

“Seriously?” I planted one hand on my hip and the other on the throbbing vein that ran down my left temple.

“Let's just say that we,” he gestured between us, “need to be on the down-­low. But I have to tell you that I can't ignore your comments to Beulah last night.”

“You'll see. When she wakes up, she'll tell you it wasn't me.” Oh, how I wished she'd wake up. “She will wake up, right?”

He shook his head. “The doctors don't know. They said that she was barely hanging on when John Howard Lloyd found her.”

“John Howard found her?” My wheels turned. He was going to be doing some graveyard work for Eternal Slumber today. I'm sure he'd let me in on all the details of finding Beulah and maybe a few clues could come out of it.

“He did. Around three this morning.”

It wouldn't be unusual for John Howard to be roaming the streets at three
A.M
. I had to get Jack Henry out of there.

“If you aren't going to arrest me, then I need to go get ready for my day.” There was no sense in trying to flirt with him. I was sure he was thinking that I was now a suspect, but since Beulah was still alive, he couldn't arrest me for murder.

Please, please stay alive,
I secretly prayed.

“I'm not.” He stepped back out of the door. “But I still can't ignore your comment. Vernon Baxter said the autopsy should be done on Ruthie soon. There may be some questions I need to ask her. You will be around, right?” He looked at me as if he was telling me not to pack my bags and run.

“We aren't Thelma and Louise.” I referred to me and Ruthie, then I leaned on the door with my arms crossed.

“Fine.” He flipped his notebook shut and put it back in his Velcro pocket. “Really? One cocktail a week?”

I shook my head and bit my lip.

“Huh.” He walked to his car, never turning back around.

Normally, I'd watch him and his car until it was out of sight, but not today. I suddenly had a to-­do list a mile long. I had to get cleaned up and ready to check things off the list. The picture in my office was first on the list, along with talking to John Howard Lloyd.

“Did you see any funny business outside last night?” I questioned Ruthie while getting ready, to see if she saw what had happened to Beulah.

I grabbed my toothbrush and put a mound of toothpaste on it. After-­drinking breath was not a good smell to wake up to.

“No. I only pay attention to you because you can see me.” She scowled. “I have a sneaky suspicion someone has gone from framing Zula to framing you.”

“What?” I spit in the sink before I could continue to scrub my teeth.

“Think about it.” Ruthie paced back and forth in the small bathroom behind me. “Originally they tried to pin it on Zula with the development of the inn, but quickly shifted when they found out you were sticking your nose into things and having public fights with Beulah.”

“Huh?” Toothpaste dripped from my gaping open mouth. Who would create such an elaborate plan and why? Someone with something big at stake. Suddenly, my little headache had turned into a migraine.

“Think about it.” Ruthie's bony finger tapped her temple. “They want the heat off of them for murdering me, for God knows why. But now you look just crazy enough to have fallen off your rocker and gone on a killing spree.”

“I'd hardly call this a killing spree.”

“It is for Sleepy Hollow.” She reminded me that we had never had crime like this before.

“
Thanks.
” My voice was low and sarcastic.

I rinsed my mouth out and grabbed a ­couple of pain relievers. What Ruthie said made sense. Which led me to more questions.

Now I had to find out who was behind the murder and attack, not only for Granny's sake, but for my own.