beyond the grave 03 - a ghostly demise (2 page)

“You know I have to help.” I pushed the gas, headed down Main Street and out of town to the police station. “Or you will haunt me the rest of my life.”

“I sure do appreciate it though I could use an ice-cold Stroh’s.” Only it sounded like “Stro.” He smacked his lips together.

“Stroh’s?” I asked, putting the “h” in.

I wondered if they still made the bitter beer.

“Yeah, ice-cold Stroh’s.” He left the “h” off again. He twisted his body around and looked in the back of the hearse. “You could put a big beer cooler back there.”

“No, I don’t have an ice-cold Stroh’s,” I said with an emphasis the “h.”

“Where are we going?” he asked. “To the Watering Hole?” He rubbed his hands together in excitement.

“No.” My eyes narrowed, wondering if my ghostly Cephus Hardy had a slight drinking problem. “We are going to see Jack Henry.”

“Why?” His face contorted. “I don’t care about no ball game. I’d much rather go visit the boys at the bar.”

“We aren’t going to the ball game.” I pointed ahead to the
SLEEPY HOLLOW POLICE DEPARTMENT
sign. “You have to remember, you’ve been dea . . .” I stopped myself, “ . . . gone for five years. There isn’t even a men’s softball league anymore.”

“No beer-drinking night?” Cephus asked in a whiny voice.

All the men in Sleepy Hollow used to play “softball” at the old field as a cover-up for beer-drinking night. Jack Henry Ross included.

“Are you telling me Jack Henry is in charge of Sleepy Hollow?”

“That’s exactly what I’m telling you. And if you are here, that means he has probably found your body or knows something.” I turned into the station lot and was happy to see his sheriff’s car there.

“Give me all the deets.” I walked in the small, crackerbox station.

Jack Henry Ross was reclined back in his chair, Lexington newspaper in hand and feet propped up on top of his desk. He smiled. His big brown eyes caused my heart to skip. All he had to do was look at me with those eyes and I melted. If he ever broke up with me, I’d probably be joining Cephus.

Granny always said that a broken heart was like trying to freeze broken chocolate, no matter how hard you try, you’ll never return it to its original shape.

“Hey there.” He stood up to greet me. Mary Anna must’ve just cut his hair because it was high and tight like he loved it. “I was just wondering what you had gotten from Artie’s for our romantic dinner tonight.”

“Groceries.” I groaned. “Damn. I left them in the middle of the magazine aisle with Doc Clyde.”

“Damn.” Cephus got close to Jack and tilted his head to get a good look. He put his hand on his neck and rubbed. “He ain’t squirrelly anymore. He’s got some muscles.”

“Tell me where you found him.” I ignored Cephus and walked over, curled up on my toes and gave him a sweet hello kiss. That was all he was getting until I got my information. “I didn’t drive all the way out here to get schmoozed. I know you don’t like it when I’m involved, but I can’t help it if they come to me.”

“Who came to you?” He pulled back. His loving brown eyes turned to curiosity.

Cephus squatted and took a good long look at Jack’s gun. “Damn. They have some good stuff.”

“Funny.” My eyes lowered. The phone in my back pocket buzzed. I pulled it out. Granny was calling and I knew exactly why. Doc Clyde or Beulah Paige had gotten ahold of her. I ignored it and put it back in my pocket. “You are pulling my leg.”

“No, Emma Lee.” He shook his head. “Nothing has come in. It’s dead silent around here. The way I like it.”

The phone buzzed again.

“Aren’t you going to get that? It must be important.” Jack gestured toward my pocket.

“Granny,” I said with a little sarcasm. Not that Granny wasn’t important; I wasn’t in a mood to hear her say that I needed some Funeral Trauma medication, nor did I have an excuse figured out to explain my peculiar behavior in the middle of the magazine aisle.

“It’s not going to be silent for long.” I sucked in a deep breath. I pointed to Cephus Hardy, who was taking way too much interest in Jack’s gun. “Jack Henry Ross, meet Cephus Hardy.”

Cephus stood up and put his hand out like Jack could see him.

“He can’t see you and he has never been squirrelly.” I made sure I took up for Jack Henry.

It wasn’t long ago when Jack Henry and I had become an item, a hot and heavy item. Well, not so hot, but still. We were dating after years—and I mean years—of me lusting after him. Little did I know, until recently, that he had felt the same about me all those years ago.

Tonight, we were having dinner at my place to help make up for lost time.

“Squirrelly?” Jack Henry’s mouth dropped. That got his attention. “He called me squirrelly?”

“Never mind him.” I waved off the comment. “He’s dead. Not missing. Dead.”

“Boo!” Cephus giggled and jumped around, trying to scare Jack Henry.

“For the last time, he can’t see you,” I said with exhaustion.

Cephus was wearing my patience thin.

Clearly, Cephus wasn’t good at this ghost thing and I was going to have to lay down some ground rules.

Just then, the Sleepy Hollow police station phone rang. Jack Henry said a few yeps, okays, and fines before he hung up the phone.

“I’ve gotta go. Somebody let Sanford Brumfield’s goats out and they are eating up all of Dottie Kramer’s vegetables.” He grabbed his keys and popped his hat back on his head, making me lose all my senses. “Go back and grab the groceries and we can talk about this situation,” he said, and twirled his finger around.

“When we go back, can you pick me up a pack of cold Stroh’s?” Cephus asked, and stood between me and my man.

“Enough of the Stroh’s!” I shouted to the air between me and Jack Henry.

Jack Henry snapped his finger.

“That’s what Teddy used to say about his dad at practice.” Jack Henry said in his slow, Southern drawl. He pretended to mock Teddy, Cephus’s son, “Son, get me an ice-cold Stroh’s.”

Jack Henry left off the “h” exactly like Cephus did.

“That little shit made fun of me?” Cephus asked Jack Henry.

“Last time.” I shook my finger at Cephus Hardy. “He. Can. Not. Hear. You.”

“Good luck with the goats. I’ll see you tonight.” I walked out the door with Jack Henry.

“Where is he?” Jack Henry put his hand on my arm.

“Who?” I asked.

“Cephus Hardy.”

“Right here.” I pointed beside me.

“No, not the ghost.” Jack Henry shook his head. “The body.”

“Oh. I don’t know.” I turned to Cephus. “Where’s your body?”

“That I do not know. But a cold Stroh’s might help me remember.” Cephus smiled from ear to ear.

“Looks like this one is going to be harder than the last two.” I bit my lip and took a deep breath before I gave Jack Henry the bad news. “He doesn’t know where his body is.”

My first Betweener client, Ruthie Sue, was a fresh body. And Chicken Teater was a little harder than Ruthie because we had to exhume his body. With both of them, we were able to have the body to examine for clues to determine that they were in fact murdered. Here, I was going on a ghost’s word that he was murdered, making it much harder for Jack Henry to investigate.

“Houston”—Jack Henry made a megaphone with his hands and called out into the air—“we have a problem.”

Chapter 3

L
et me tell you how this works. I will do the
sleuthing. You give me any details. Other than that, I can’t have you talking to the living.” I kept my eyes peeled for anyone looking at me. “And don’t interrupt me when I’m talking to the living. I can’t concentrate on you and them at the same time. It screws my head up.”

“I’ve never been much of a rule follower,” Cephus warned.

“Maybe that is a reason you were murdered,” I quipped.

Cephus harrumphed and folded his arms.

“I didn’t know Teddy was on the baseball team.” I made small talk. Maybe it made him feel good to talk about his kids. Especially his son. “I knew he did something with fighting or something.”

“Wrastlin’,” Cephus said proudly, rolling his shoulders forward.

“Wrastlin’?” I asked. “Is that some sort of country sport?”

Cephus Hardy and his family lived in the holler on the outskirts of town. Mary Anna and her brother used to have the best parties, or so I heard. I wasn’t the most popular girl in school.

Jack Henry Ross was an athlete, putting him at the top of the popular list. Me . . . not so much. No one wanted to hang around the creepy, funeral-home girl. But look at me now. I had Jack Henry and a successful business. Not like the popular girls who were barefoot and pregnant, living in the trailer park next to the cemetery.

“Wrastlin’!” Cephus did some sort of moves with his hands.

“Wrestling,” I confirmed. “That’s right. I remember now. He was pretty good at that, wasn’t he?”

I vaguely recalled something about it, but Teddy was younger than me.

“Made it to the state championship.” Cephus’s eyes lit up as he told me about all the matches and medals Teddy had won.

“Gosh, I wonder where Teddy is now?” I couldn’t even tell Cephus what his son was doing. As far as I could remember, he left after high school and never come back. “Mary Anna in passing did say that your leaving town affected Teddy the most.”

“I didn’t leave town.” Cephus jerked back. “I’m telling you, someone killed me.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

“Who did it?” I asked. “If you tell me, then we can solve this thing easy.”

It made perfect sense to me. He tells me who the murderer was, I tell Jack Henry, Jack Henry arrested them, Cephus crosses over, and Jack Henry and I have our date.

“I don’t know. I told you that,” he said loudly.

“Not where your body is.” His body would not be in good condition after five years. “Who did it.”

“I do not know.” His brows furrowed in frustration. “Hey, Sleepy Hollow sure does look good.”

Cephus stared out the passenger window. Even in the last years, Sleepy Hollow had made some big changes.

“The town council offered a lot of incentives to help bring business to the area. Over the past few years, the economy has taken a boost from the caves being open.” I gestured toward the mountainous backdrop of our little town. “You wouldn’t believe how many tourists we get who want to explore the caves. In fact, there are so many tours there now. And Sanford Brumfield is one of the tour guides.”

“Is that right?” The look on Cephus’s face made my heart ache. His eyes darted back and forth across Main Street so I made sure I drove slow. He was taking it all in.

“Mmmhmm.” I left it at that.

Main Street had really been cleaned up by the Beautification Committee over the past few years and looked somewhat different from five years ago.

They put in a new streetscape with gas lanterns and hooks for hanging plants. There was even a spot on them for banners with the Sleepy Hollow logo, which was a backdrop of the mountains and caves.

I couldn’t imagine how hard it would be to be stuck between worlds and come back to your home and find out everything had changed.

“What’s that?”

“Higher Grounds Café. A coffee shop.” I sure could use a jolt of coffee from there. “Do you remember the Doyles? Mary Anna’s friend, Cheryl Lynne Doyle?”

“Naw.” He shook his head. Not a hair on his head even moved.

“Anyway, Cheryl Lynne owns the coffee shop,” I said.

Something in the rearview mirror caught my eye. A white flag was waving in the wind. I pushed the hearse’s gas pedal when I saw that it was Granny whizzing out of the parking lot of the Sleepy Hollow Inn.

I hadn’t answered her call and I was positive Doc Clyde or Beulah had gotten to her. Instead of driving on the street, she took a shortcut across the town square, not paying a bit of attention to anyone who might be in her way. Including the traveling carnival that was in town.

The carnival was a small affair that went from small town to small town all over the state. It came in on a few buses, along with a few games like the water-balloon game and the dunk tank, carnival rides like the tilt-a-whirl, and pitched a tent right in the middle of towns. Luckily, the square was a great spot for them.

The town square was a piece of land in the middle of the town, with four of the main streets of Sleepy Hollow going around it. It was where all the fun festivities were held. There was a gazebo in the middle of the nice park. On beautiful days like today, many people enjoyed their lunch in the square or rested in the sun. But this weekend, the carnival took up the space.

Beep, beep.
A small horn came from the square.

“Move it!” Granny screamed.

She tried to steady the wobbly moped with one hand and used the other to wave people out of her way, using her sweet Southern charm.

She yelled over the buzz of the scooter motor, “Vote for Zula Fae for mayor.” She pumped her fist in the air. “I appreciate your support.”

Granny left no opportunity untaken.

Her moped was getting closer and I pushed the gas more. She looked between me and the funeral home, gauging her distance to determine how fast she needed to go to make sure we made it there at the same time.

“She went to college in New York City and all of these fancy coffee shops were there. She decided to open one . . . with her daddy’s money,” I added.

I zipped around the square into Eternal Slumber’s parking lot, trying to beat Granny’s shortcut.

I jumped out as fast as I could. The whiz of Granny and her moped were getting closer. Fast wasn’t good enough. Granny was on a mission. Me.

I didn’t even make it to the top step of the front porch of the funeral home before I heard her yelling my name.

“Emma Lee,” Granny screamed over the buzz of her moped. “Emma Lee! I know you aren’t ignoring me!”

I stopped, took a deep breath and closed my eyes before I turned toward her screeching. She wasn’t going to give up until I answered her.

Mentally, I prepared myself for the tongue-lashing she was about to give me.

“Didn’t you hear me way back there?” She came to a sliding stop. The flag on the back of her moped waved in the slight breeze.