Nothing to Ghost About (6 page)

Basil was still waiting for an answer.
“Date?” he said again.

“
I was at the restaurant
with Tara,” I said, squaring my shoulders. “You and Anna seemed to
be having a nice time.” I could feel my blood pressure shoot up
even as the words were leaving my mouth.

To my surprise, he broke into a short
laugh. “You have an odd idea of what a nice time is, Laurel.” His
tone was terse. He did not elaborate as he gestured a second time
at the car. “Let me sleep easy tonight. It will only take a minute
or two to get you home safely.”

Had I been mistaken about Anna? No,
they had definitely been having dinner together, complete with
engaging conversation and kookaburra laughter.

I nodded. “Thanks.” I could hardly
refuse the offer, although part of me wanted to do so.

“
So what brought you out
tonight?” Basil asked conversationally as he started the
engine.

“
Tara and I were having
dinner together.” I had already told him that, so I wasn’t sure
what he meant. Perhaps he was making idle conversation, unlike the
intense conversation he had been having with Anna
earlier.

“
I see.”

I half-hoped that he would say more,
but he fell silent beside me. “So um, what were you up to tonight?”
I asked him.

“
Not much.”

It was a short drive, thankfully,
given the lack of conversation. “Thanks, Basil.”

He cut the engine and hopped out.
“I’ll walk you to the house.”

I was going to say that there was no
need, but then again, the funeral home was a generous stone’s throw
from my mother’s house, and it was a dark night. There were usually
plenty of stars to be seen in the county, but tonight, clouds
obstructed both stars and moon. Plus, Mom had not paid her church
friend to do any gardening at her house, so there were still plenty
of shrubs left, shrubs behind which any manner of killer could
hide. I shuddered.

When we were almost at the door, my
heel caught in the pavement, and I flew forward. The world wobbled
and tilted sideways. A hand seized my elbow, sending an electric
jolt up my arm. My forward momentum was strong and the heel was
still firmly lodged. I clung to Basil’s arm as I did my best to
free my heel. When I did so, I landed hard against his
chest.

“
I’m sorry. Thanks for
catching me.” I was embarrassed because Basil was still holding
me.
Should I pull away?

He leaned forward, pressing his lips
gently against mine. His kiss was soft and hesitant at first. It
quickly became hungrier, more insistent as he ran a hand gently
down my spine. His other arm crushed me to him, as if he were half
afraid that I would disappear if he relaxed his grip.

Every nerve in my body was suddenly
alive as I fell into his kiss. I curled my fingers gently into the
lapels of his jacket. Everything about the night washed away from
my mind. There was only that moment, that kiss. I hoped it would
never end.

And then, without warning, he pushed
me away from him. “This is wrong.” He shook his head and raked a
hand through his hair. “I’m sorry. That should never have happened.
I don’t know what I was thinking.”

I stared at him in confusion. I could
still taste his kiss on my lips.

“
We can’t be together,” he
announced. “Laurel, I’m sorry. I…”

“
Good night, Basil,” I said
with as much dignity as I could muster. I unlocked the door
quickly, went inside, shut it firmly behind me.

I leaned against the door until I
heard him drive away. Tears rolled down my cheeks. If he didn’t
want me, why would he kiss me like that?

Because the person he
really wanted to kiss ditched him after dinner,
an ugly, dark little voice nagged at the back of my
mind.

I should have driven home with Tara.
Or walked. Or jumped off a bridge.

Chapter 8

I walked down the long corridor to the
cosmetician’s room, not looking forward to seeing Janet’s work.
Usually, I was impressed to see what Janet could do with a body.
She was certainly one of the best in the business, a master at
making the deceased look as if they were simply
sleeping.

Yet there was nothing tasteful about
the funeral that was to take place that day. Lynette had been a
clown, and her daughter, Daisy, who was also a clown—I shuddered at
the thought—had instructed Witch Woods Funeral Home to bury the
deceased in her clown makeup.

Mom, needless to say, had been angry
when I accepted the request, but as most of our recently booked
funerals had canceled, we needed this clown funeral.

While I disliked clowns purely because
they scared me, my mother saw them as an affront to God. Of course,
she could see most things as an affront to God, if she was really
trying, and unfortunately, she was almost always really
trying.

Janet stopped by the casket, which was
mercifully closed, but then she lifted the lid. “This was one of
the better jobs I’ve had,” she said cheerfully. “I’m not exactly
happy that she bit it or anything, but I guess I sort of am. This
was fun. I wish everyone got painted up like a clown. Why not?
You’re just worm food when you die, your body at least. God takes
the soul and the worms get the flesh.”

It was a chilling thought. Sometimes I
forgot that Janet was religious. She went to my mother’s church, as
did just about everyone else my father had ever hired. I was
looking forward to the day when I could hire the first atheist who
filled out an application, if only to spite my mother. If I could
find a Satanist, that would be even better! I laughed at the
thought.

“
You’re so strange,” Janet
said. “Why did you laugh for no reason?” Without waiting for me to
answer, she pushed on. “This corpse looks amazing. If only she
could see herself.”

I had to admit that Lynette did look
good. It’s just that looking good meant she gave me the
heebie-jeebies. Her face was white, her lips red, and the paint
stretched on far past her natural lips. She had purple diamonds
around her eyes, and Janet had even put her bright red wig upon her
head.

“
She looks great,” I said
with a shudder, reaching forward and quickly pushing down the lid
to the casket. “Let’s get her out there. I still need to finish the
food.”

“
All right,” Janet said in
a bored voice. When she wasn’t being shockingly inappropriate or
shockingly rude, Janet sounded shockingly bored. We pushed the
casket along in silence.

When we reached the viewing room, Mom
burst through the door and hurried over to lift the lid. “I’ve
thought you had gone too far before, but this is it!” she
exclaimed. “It’s an abomination! God will surely strike us
down.”

“
I don’t think he will,”
Janet said. I was shocked. I was pretty sure I had never heard her
speak to my mother. “Who doesn’t love a clown?”

“
I’m telling you both that
God hates clowns,” my mother said firmly.

“
Why would you possibly
think God hates clowns?” I asked, puzzled.

“
It says so in the Bible,”
Mom explained slowly, as if Janet and I were stupid.

I tried not to roll my eyes. “The
Bible says that God doesn’t like clowns? I didn’t even think there
were clowns back in those days.”

“
And it shall come to pass
that I will punish all such as are clothed with strange apparel,”
she said, surely quoting a book of the Bible, just as surely as I
had no idea which one.

“
Did Jesus actually say
that?” I asked.

Mom shot me an angry look. “Jesus
wasn’t in the Old Testament, which you would know if you ever came
to church. But I think Jesus would agree with what his father, God,
said. One should agree with everything their father said, even if
you knew he was wrong.”

I tried to get my head around that
one, and failed. “Are you saying God was wrong in saying that
strange apparel wearers should be punished?” For once, I wasn’t
being sarcastic—I actually wanted to know.

Mom’s face went white, and she
clutched at her throat. I thought she might pass out. “No, Laurel!”
she screeched angrily. “Why do you always twist my words, you
horrible heathen child? Do you know, you took three days to be
born, and I knew you were going to cause me trouble. Why, I went to
the bathroom and a lady asked me whether I’d had a boy or a girl. I
was so embarrassed to say that I hadn’t had the baby yet! You
caused me trouble then, and you’re causing me trouble
now!”

I rolled my eyes. Here we go again,
the three-days-to-be-born story, Mom’s weapon of choice when she
was truly furious with me. I was relieved that Pastor Green was on
vacation, as I knew he would have dressed as a clown too, and
there’s no telling what Mom’s reaction would have been. She would
likely have spontaneously combusted.

“
Well, without this clown
funeral, we won’t be able to pay our bills.” I wheeled the clown to
the far end of the viewing room, in between two beautiful bouquets
of yellow roses, the deceased’s favorite flower.

I pushed open the lid and turned so I
didn’t have to look inside. Clowns were creepy enough, but a dead
clown was even worse.

I looked up to see that Mom had
followed me. “I won’t have a part of this! Rock stars are one
thing, but this is another. There will be mourners coming, dressed
as clowns. It isn’t right.”

“
I don’t think anyone else
will be dressing up as clowns,” I said hopefully.

“
I will not be a part of
this mockery,” Mom continued. “I’m leaving.”

I shrugged. I knew it was pointless
arguing with her.

Janet tapped me on the shoulder. “I
could stay and help,” she said. “If you pay me for the
hours.”

I almost agreed, but then a flash of
Janet speaking to the mourners went through my mind, and it was as
terrifying a thought as I had ever had. I smiled and shook my head.
“Thanks so much, but it will be fine. I appreciate the offer,
though.”

“
I’m going to leave then.
I’m tired of work,” she said, confirming the wisdom of my
decision.

I had the food and drink all ready to
go by the time Daisy arrived. To my relief, she wasn’t wearing her
clown makeup.

“
How are you?” I
asked.

Daisy forced a smile. “I’m hanging in
there.”

I showed her into the viewing room and
left her at the casket. I’d only walked about two steps when Anna
Stiles arrived, as impeccably groomed as always. Mourners walked in
behind her. No one was in clown makeup.

Anna walked over to peer in the
casket. “It’s a little weird, isn’t it?” she said loudly. “A dead
clown?” This time, she smelled like roses and jasmine.

I sneezed. I took her by the elbow and
maneuvered her outside the viewing room.

“
To you and me, but to her
daughter, it’s exactly what she wanted,” I hissed. At that moment,
a clown walked through the front door.

It gave me chills. I thought the dead
clown would be the scariest thing I saw at the funeral, but I was
wrong. The scariest thing I had ever seen was a clown that could
move and talk and come near me. And even worse, he wasn’t alone.
Five clowns followed him. They all wore makeup and full costumes,
with colorful patches, zany hats, and wigs. It really was a bit
much, and to me, it was scary.

Still, there was nothing I could do
about it. There was no stopping it, and as the funeral started in
earnest, there didn’t appear to be any problems. I kept an eye on
Anna. She did not say anything else inappropriate, but mingled and
spoke with a few people, offering her condolences. I wasn’t sure if
she told anyone who she was, or why she was there, but if she did,
no one seemed to mind her presence.

And then, disaster struck. Lynette’s
parents arrived. They were both in their eighties, and certainly
closer to ninety than they were to eighty. Daisy had spoken to me
about them briefly during our first phone call, but she had said
they didn’t speak to her or her mother often. Lynette’s father,
Frank, had resented his daughter for becoming a clown, and for
having her own daughter follow in her footsteps.

They were barely through the door when
the old man, Frank, let his jaw drop open.

“
You’ve got to be kidding
me,” Frank said in a loud voice. He turned to two of the clowns who
were standing nearby, talking. “Get out!” he roared. “This is my
daughter!”

One of the clowns stepped forward. It
was a woman with pink and purple hair and a big red rubber nose.
“Frank? We worked with your daughter. We loved
Sunshine.”

“
Her name was Lynette,”
Frank yelled. “Sunshine was a ridiculous phase she never managed to
outgrow. Leave now!”

Daisy hurried in from the viewing
area. “They’re welcome here, Grandpa,” she said. “They were Mom’s
friends.”

“
And you, I’m surprised you
aren’t in your little costume,” he said. Through all of this his
wife had stayed quiet.

“
Would you like some
water?” I asked him, in an attempt to calm him. It didn’t
work.