beyond the grave 03 - a ghostly demise (9 page)

“She tried to tell you numbnuts, but you blew her off.” Cephus was good with his one-liners.

I laughed out loud.

“What? I’m serious.” He jerked his hand away.

“I tried to tell you this morning that Cephus said he was murdered.” I had hurt his ego and didn’t mean to.

He did care for me and my well-being and safety. It just took a lot more than a ghost to convince him there had been a murder.

“Where is the body? Is he in Sleepy Hollow? What if he did leave and it’s out of my jurisdiction? How would I explain that to the authorities?” He put his hands in the air, doing some sort of fairy-dust sprinkling. In a strange, mocking voice, he said, “The ghost of Cephus Hardy says he’s been murdered. At least that’s what he told my girlfriend ghost-whisperer.”

“Stop mocking me.” I had become annoyed. “You know I’m serious. Have I ever had a ghost that wasn’t murdered come to me for help?”

“Let’s go. I’m tired of talking about this. I’m hungry.” Jack Henry’s demeanor had suddenly turned sour. “Maybe I need food.”

“You need a quick kick in the ass,” Cephus called from behind us. “That’s what you need.”

Chapter 10

T
he Watering Hole was crowded. Even the horse-saddle barstools were taken.

“There’s a booth by the pool table.” Jack Henry parted the thick cigarette smoke with his pointer finger.

Just then, a couple of people got up from the bar.

“Here!” I yelled over the jukebox and flung my leg over the saddle like I was mounting a horse.

I scooted my butt up and held on to the horn and slid my feet into the stirrups.

Jack Henry didn’t make a fuss even though I knew he wanted a booth so we could talk. He just took a seat next to me.

“What’ll it be?” the bartender asked, looking directly at Jack Henry.

“We’ll have the draft and an order of wings,” Jack Henry ordered.

“Wait!” I put my hand out. “I’ll have an ice-cold Stroh’s.” I left off the “h” like Cephus did.

The bartender’s lips turned up. A mischievous grin crossed his face. His eyes danced. “An ice-cold Stroh’s coming up for you and a draft for you. I’ll put the wings in.”

“Weee-doggie!” Cephus jumped around, slapping his knees like he had just come back to life. “I can’t wait to see that can!”

“What in the world has gotten into you?” Jack Henry put his hands on his knee and slightly shifted his body toward me.

“Nothing. Trying something new.” I tore the edges off the bar napkin and rolled the pieces into little balls.

“Are you starting to take on your ghost’s eating habits?” Jack Henry had a look of concern on his face.

“Don’t be ridiculous. There is no harm,” I said.

Jack Henry was beginning to annoy me.

“I wasn’t going to say anything, but Zula Fae called me.” Jack Henry folded his hands and placed them on the bar top. He looked forward. “I’m worried she might be right this time.”

“Really?” I rolled my eyes. “Since when did Zula Fae make any more sense than I do?”

“True, but your behavior with this one is different.” By this one, he meant ghost. Cephus Hardy. “You’ve started sticking your nose in other’s business, you’re not following leads, you are craving strange foods. And you have been less obvious about disguising your relationship with this one.”

“Not true. Not true. Not true.” I tapped the counter. “I have only followed leads that Cephus has given me.”

That was when I knew, I couldn’t tell Jack Henry any more of the clues. Definitely not that Cephus believed Vernon was his killer. And I also knew that I was going to have to keep my mouth shut. Play the good undertaker and just plug along. Only giving Jack Henry solid clues.

Cephus was behind the bar watching the bartender take out the can of Stroh’s.

“You know, I haven’t had anyone ask for a Stroh’s since”—he shook his head—“never mind. It’s just the only person I have ever heard come in here asking for an ice-cold Stroh’s was . . .” He stopped. He squinted. He pointed. “Are you related to Cephus . . .” He snapped his fingers, trying to remember Hardy.

“Hardy?” Jack Henry finished it for him.

“Yeah.” He snapped his fingers again. “That’s right. Cephus Hardy. Are you related to him?”

“Something like that.” Jack Henry picked up his glass of draft beer and took a swig.

“Get out! Really? Where the hell has he been?” The bartender leaned against the bar and folded his arms. “Did he ever cash in on that big payday?”

“What big payday?” I jumped at the opportunity to ask, recalling the note I had found at Terk Rhinehammer’s house.

“Easy.” The bartender put his hands in front of me. “He said something about getting his money. I don’t know. I figured he’d gotten his big payday and moved.”

“What did he specifically say?” I asked. Why hadn’t Leotta or anyone else come in here to check to see if anyone knew anything about his disappearance five years ago?

“He said that he was going to be living on easy street and he and his family didn’t have to worry about money anymore.” The bartender gave us the hold-on finger and went down the line, taking more refill orders.

“See. I told you,” I murmured, and popped open my can of Stroh’s. “Here’s to you.” I held the can up in the air toward Cephus.

“Jesus, Emma. Now we are toasting them?” Jack shook his head and took more swigs from his glass.

I took a long drink of the old, sour beer.

“Blah.” I stuck my tongue out in disgust. “Who can drink this stuff?”

“There’s a reason they don’t drink that stuff and you just figured it out.” Jack Henry laughed. “You know. There might be something to this payday thing and his leaving. The timing is off.”

“Murdered,” I corrected him. “So now you believe me?” The little confidence boost gave me the courage to take another swig.

“I believe evidence.” Jack Henry stuck his hand up for the bartender to bring us another round.

“I told you. I told you.” Cephus danced. “I was murdered by Vernon Baxter. Tell him it was Vernon.”

I ignored Cephus and finished off the can of Stroh’s. The bartender set another round down, along with our order of wings.

“Say, when was the last time you saw Cephus?” Jack Henry asked questions that started from the beginning. Questions I should have started with.

The bartender picked up the unopened Stroh’s can and flipped it over to the bottom.

“Five years ago.” He showed us the print on the bottom of the can. “I only bought Stroh’s for Cephus and the expiration date shows five years ago.”

“Yuck!” My face contorted. “No wonder it’s sour. I can’t believe you gave me five-year-old beer.”

“Hey”—he shrugged—“you asked for an ice-cold Stroh’s.” He laughed, walking down the bar and helping the other customers.

I grabbed Jack Henry’s draft and took a drink.

“See. Five years ago he went missing. He had some sort of payday gone wrong. But what?” My mind reeled with possibilities. I continued while Jack Henry devoured the wings. “It had to be horse racing. Keeneland is right here. There is a bar there. He had to be gambling or something.”

“Gambling.” Jack Henry thought for a second. He licked his fingers. “I’ll check into the files to see if there had been some sort of gambling joint around here five to ten years ago. That was before my police duties here.”

“You are wasting your time.” Cephus pouted. “I’m telling you, Vernon Baxter killed me.”

Cephus was killing me. There was no tie to Vernon.
No stone unturned.
I would make a friendly visit to Vernon tomorrow, ask some questions and try to figure out what he knew about Leotta and Cephus Hardy.

Tonight, I was going to spend the rest of the night fulfilling my promise to Jack Henry. A night of romance.

Chapter 11

W
hat the hell?” I launched myself to a sitting position in the bed, my heart pounding a million miles a second. “I have a gun!” I yelled into the dark.

I knew I should’ve taken Jack Henry up on his offer to spend the night. Every time I had stuck my nose where it didn’t belong, Eternal Slumber had been broken into. And I couldn’t help but wonder if someone from the Watering Hole had overheard my conversation with Jack Henry or the bartender had loose lips.

I flipped on the lamp on the bedside table to find Cephus standing over me. He got closer and took a nice long whiff of my head.

“Cephus Hardy! Are you the one who woke me up?” I looked at the clock. “It’s two in the morning. What is wrong with you?”

“I was getting a little whiff of the Stroh’s on your breath.” He waved his hand in front of his nose. “There is a little bad breath mixed in but I still got a good whiff.” He smacked his lips together.

“Are you kidding me?” I threw myself back on my pillow and pulled the covers up to my chin. “It’s late. Do you want me to go see Vernon Baxter in the morning or not?”

“Of course I want you to go see that murderous bastard,” Cephus harrumphed.

“Then let me go to bed,” I begged.

“Just one more teeny-tiny whiff.” He put his fingers together in the universal “little bit” sign.

I took a good long inhale and slowly exhaled the stale beer out of my mouth toward him. He closed his eyes and smiled. I closed my eyes and, before I knew it, my alarm was sounding off.

“Ugh.” I groaned, peeling away the strand of hair that had dried on the drool on my cheek. I rubbed my head. There was a nasty headache brewing and I was sure it was from the Stroh’s. “Nasty beer.”

I threw back the covers and took a nice long shower, happy to recall that my phone hadn’t rung in the middle of the night as it frequently did since people loved to die then. Why was that?

Though we could use a client for business, I did need to get Cephus to the other side.

“What are we doing today?” Cephus asked.

I pulled my hair back into a ponytail and applied a little bit of lipstick as I looked in the small mirror that hung on the wall in the hallway.

“I told you at two in the morning,” I said. “I’m going to talk to Vernon Baxter since he is finished with the autopsy and we don’t have any clients. It would be a good time to go and just question him.”

“I’m telling you. Take a look in that garden.” His words eerily sent a cold rush all over my body.

I turned to look at him, but he was gone.

“You love leaving me hanging,” I called out in the air, grabbed my cell from the wall charger and headed out the door.

Vernon Baxter lived on the opposite side of town from the Watering Hole.

A flash of Granny on her scooter zoomed past me or at least my peripheral vision thought so. Her flag wasn’t there but I knew it was her though she didn’t look back. As far as I knew, no one else in Sleepy Hollow had a moped. Granny hadn’t either until she took her car to an auction in Lexington and came back with a scooter. I thought she had lost her marbles. She had gotten much better at driving it.

I slammed the brakes of the hearse when I brought my eyes from the rearview mirror to the front windshield. A goat darted out in front of me. A bunch of goats darted out in front of me.

“Damn goats.” I beeped the horn at the herd as they jumped and ran.

It looked like Sanford Brumfield’s goats had gotten out again and were headed straight for Dottie Kramer’s house.

I grabbed my phone off the passenger seat and texted Jack Henry.

Looks like the goats are out again. You better get out here before Dottie Kramer gives you an earful.

I turned in to Vernon’s at the next driveway. It was long and windy like the road getting here. Vernon’s car was there. I pulled up next to it.

He had a nice little brick ranch with a good bit of property.

“Yeppers! He killed me right over there,” Cephus chirped from the back of the hearse. He was getting very comfortable, sitting on the gurney.

I looked in the direction Cephus claimed was his place of death. There were visible markings of what used to be a garden. A small brick wall made a rectangle around the weeds and was crumbling to the ground. The weeds were overgrown and didn’t look like they had been tended to in over five years. If there was a thriving garden under there, I would have been surprised.

Damn. I told him yesterday that if they got out one more time, I was going to have to fine him,
Jack Henry had sent back.

Vernon stood on the front-porch slab of concrete with a cup of coffee in his hand so I didn’t have time to text Jack Henry back. I really wanted to. I wanted to know if he had gotten any information about gambling or possible gambling rings in Sleepy Hollow.

“Emma Lee.” Vernon nodded when I got out of the car. “What are you doing here?”

“I thought I’d come by and shoot the breeze.” I pointed to the road. “Say, Granny wasn’t by here, was she?”

I had to make sure that my mind wasn’t playing games on me. Considering my special job as a Betweener, my mind was sometimes a bit foggy on what was real and what wasn’t. She was on a mission to become mayor and she wasn’t leaving early-daylight hours to chance.

“Come on in and grab a cup of coffee.” He held the door open.

“Don’t do it,” Cephus warned. His eyes lowered, his lips pursed. “He is a murderer. I’m proof.”

“I’d love a cup. Thanks.” I walked in the house and stepped aside for him to pass me after he shut the door.

“Zula Fae did come by an hour or so ago. Said she was handing out material.” He tapped a brochure and a button Granny had left. They were was sitting on the table in the entryway.

Vernon gestured for me to follow him. And I did.

“Some killer.” I threw my head back to show Cephus that Vernon had left the front door open and the screen door was the only thing between me and freedom. “Killers don’t leave doors wide open,” I muttered under my breath.

“What was that?” Vernon stopped in the middle of his kitchen.

“Granny sure does want to win.” I was pleasantly surprised at his bachelor pad. “Nice place.”

The kitchen was decorated in brown cabinets. There was a large mahogany island in the center and at least eight barstools around it. There was no table or chairs so I moseyed up to the island and planted myself on a stool.