by Tonya Kappes
TONYA
KAPPES
A
GHOSTLY
SUSPECT
A GHOSTLY SOUTHERN MYSTERY
Book Eight
Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Cover by The Cover Vault, Mariah Sinclair. Edits by Red Adept Editing Services.
Copyright © 2019 by Tonya Kappes. All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. For information, email [email protected].
About the Author
Tonya has written over 55 novels and 4 novellas, all of which have graced numerous bestseller lists, including USA Today. Best known for stories charged with emotion and humor and filled with flawed characters, her novels have garnered reader praise and glowing critical reviews. She lives with her husband and two very spoiled schnauzers and grew up in the small southern Kentucky town of Nicholasville. Now that her four boys are grown men, Tonya writes full-time.
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Also by Tonya Kappes
Magical Cures Mystery Series
A CHARMING CRIME
A CHARMING CURE
A CHARMING POTION (novella)
A CHARMING WISH
A CHARMING SPELL
A CHARMING MAGIC
A CHARMING SECRET
A CHARMING CHRISTMAS (novella)
A CHARMING FATALITY
A CHARMING DEATH (novella)
A CHARMING GHOST
A CHARMING HEX
A CHARMING VOODOO
A CHARMING CORPSE
A Camper and Criminals Cozy Mystery
BEACHES, BUNGALOWS, & BURGLARIES
DESERTS, DRIVERS, & DERELICTS
FORESTS, FISHING, & FORGERY
CHRISTMAS, CRIMINALS, & CAMPERS
MOTORHOMES, MAPS, & MURDER
CANYONS, CARAVANS, & CADAVERS
HITCHES, HIDEOUTS, & HOMICIDE
A Southern Cake Baker Series
(under the pen name of Maymee Bell)
CAKE AND PUNISHMENT
BATTER OFF DEAD
A Ghostly Southern Mystery Series
A GHOSTLY UNDERTAKING
A GHOSTLY GRAVE
A GHOSTLY DEMISE
A GHOSTLY MURDER
A GHOSTLY REUNION
A GHOSTLY MORTALITY
A GHOSTLY SECRET
Killer Coffee Mystery Series
SCENE OF THE GRIND
MOCHA AND MURDER
FRESHLY GROUND MURDER
COLD BLOODED BREW
DECAFFEINATED SCANDAL
A KILLER LATTE
Kenni Lowry Mystery Series
FIXIN’ TO DIE
SOUTHERN FRIED
AX TO GRIND
SIX FEET UNDER
DEAD AS A DOORNAIL
TANGLED UP IN TINSEL
DIGGIN’ UP DIRT
Spies and Spells Mystery Series
SPIES AND SPELLS
BETTING OFF DEAD
GET WITCH or DIE TRYING
A Laurel London Mystery Series
CHECKERED CRIME
CHECKERED PAST
CHECKERED THIEF
A Divorced Diva Beading Mystery Series
A BEAD OF DOUBT SHORT STORY
STRUNG OUT TO DIE
CRIMPED TO DEATH
Olivia Davis Paranormal Mystery Series
SPLITSVILLE.COM
COLOR ME LOVE (novella)
COLOR ME A CRIME
Grandberry Falls Series
THE LADYBUG JINX
HAPPY NEW LIFE
A SUPERSTITIOUS CHRISTMAS (novella)
NEVER TELL YOUR DREAMS
Bluegrass Romance Series
GROOMING MR. RIGHT
TAMING MR. RIGHT
Women’s Fiction
CARPE BREAD ’EM
Young Adult
TAG… YOU’RE IT
CONTENTS
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter One
“As I’m living and breathing.” Debbie Dually was the last person I thought would be waiting to see me in the vestibule of Eternal Slumber. “Debbie Dually, what on earth are you doing in Sleepy Hollow?”
Debbie glanced over at the elderly couple sitting on the couch. She pulled a feather and incense from her hobo bag.
“I need to see you for just a second,” she whispered as she leaned in and looked at me from underneath her blunt bangs. She tucked a strand of her chin-length bobbed brown hair behind her ear before she lit the incense.
“You probably shouldn’t.” I tried to stop her from lighting the smelly stick.
“It’s fine.” Debbie bounced on the balls of her feet, making the bell ankle bracelet come to life with happy jingling sounds.
“Mr. and Mrs. Clark, do you mind waiting one more minute?” I asked the couple, who were there to see me about preneed funeral arrangements.
Sounded creepy, but I’d found people took comfort in making their final resting place decisions and not leaving it up to their families to do. As the undertaker and owner of Eternal Slumber, I’d been able to provide these options a few years ago before any other funeral home was offering them to their clients. Now every funeral home out there offered different services, and sometimes I felt like I was behind the eight ball.
The Clarks huddled together. Mrs. Clark fanned her hand in front of her face to push away the earthy smell coming from Debbie’s smoke. Mr. Clark gave her the stink eye, but Debbie didn’t care. She fanned a little extra their way.
“Well, Roger does have an appointment with Doc Clyde about his gout.” Mrs. Clark glanced up at her husband. Her hand was gripped in the crook of his elbow.
“Don’t worry, Cissie.” His wrinkled hand patted his wife’s. “We’ve got plenty of time,” he assured her.
“Do not miss that appointment.” Debbie used the feather to brush more smoke over the top of the Clarks’ heads and concentrated on what she saw in the smoke. “I’m not sure they have that much time,” Debbie whispered.
“My friend has come all the way from Lexington, and she just needs one minute.” I grabbed Debbie by the arm. “If that’s okay?” I asked them through gritted teeth in hopes Debbie would get the hint to cool it.
She didn’t. Though she did disappear into one of the viewing rooms, probably to rid the place of an
y sort of spirits lingering in there.
Still, I had to make sure it was okay with the Clarks to wait a couple of more minutes, seeing how the last year I’d spent a lot of time and effort building the client list back and bringing the finances into the black for Eternal Slumber. Not that a funeral home should ever go out of business. There was plenty of business. Someone was always dying, but when they figured the undertaker was what you’d call a smidgen cuckoo, they didn’t feel comfortable leaving their loved ones in my hands.
After a couple of years of being ghost-free, I felt great and back in business. Not the ghosting business. The funeral home business.
“Hello,” Hettie Bell trilled when she walked into the front door of the funeral home, carrying a tray with a glass pitcher of the sweetest tea this side of the Mississippi. She set it down on the antique credenza.
Hettie stood a few inches taller than me. Her black hair was pulled into a low ponytail and her bangs were styled to the side across her right brow line. She had on a pair of yoga pants and a zip-up hoodie, no doubt ready to teach one of her classes at Post and Relax, her yoga studio.
“What is that awful smell?” Hettie fanned her hand in front of her face.
“And look here,” I said to the Clarks and waved Hettie over, hoping to avoid any more conversation about Debbie. “You’re here in time to enjoy a glass of Granny’s sweet iced tea.” I smiled at the elderly couple. “Do you think you could pour them a glass?” I winked at Hettie.
“I sure can.” She pinched a smile, her nose crinkling in an “eeww” kind of way. On her way over to pour them some iced tea, she whispered under her breath, “But you really need to get that smell checked out.”
I smiled and sucked in a deep breath.
Offering a glass of Granny’s tea was a new feature I thought would be nice for the clients. I had coffee and water already, but tea made people feel comfortable around here, making it a little easier to talk about why they were here. Let’s face it, they were here about death. Either a loved one had died, or they were anticipating the end of one’s life. Who didn’t need comforting when thinking about that?
“I have to be back to the Inn,” Hettie said after she gave the Clarks their tea.
“Tell Granny hello,” I told Hettie. Hettie helped out my granny, Zula Fae Raines Payne, at the Sleepy Hollow Inn when Granny needed her. “Thanks, Hettie,” I called before she shut the door behind her.
“Mr. and Mrs. Clark, enjoy that tea, and I’ll be with you shortly,” I said to them before I motioned for Debbie to come with me to my office.
The long, flowing ankle-length chiffon material waved around Debbie as she walked.
“I’ll take that,” I said and grabbed the incense out of her hand, snuffing it in the potted plant on the credenza next to the tray with the tea.
Debbie nodded and slipped the feather in her bag.
“Would you like a coffee?” I asked Debbie.
“I’ll take one of those teas.” She looked over at the Clarks.
“Sure.” I should’ve known. Granny’s tea was well-known all over these parts of Kentucky. She always boiled her tea in the same pot, every single time. She claimed it was “seasoned.” And I wasn’t one to argue with her. She was the master.
“Emma Lee, your obits are late.” Fluggie Callahan walked into the door of the funeral home. She was the editor in chief of the Sleepy Hollow News and here to get the list of obituaries and service times to put in this week’s paper. Her dirty blond hair was pulled up in a top knot, held in place by a scrunchie. “Mr. and Mrs. Clark.” Fluggie and the couple gave each other the Baptist nod.
Something I should’ve had done a few days ago but never got around to it.
“Good afternoon to you, too, Fluggie,” I greeted her. “I’ll get those to you after I finish up my meetings here.”
“What’s that stink?” Her white lashes were magnified under the big black-rimmed glasses she had on. She tried to find the source of the odor, her head twisting left and then right with her nose jumping up and down like a bunny rabbit. She slowly walked toward Debbie. “Hey, it’s you.” Fluggie made it sound as though she knew Debbie.
“Oh.” Debbie turned to Fluggie. She was holding the glass pitcher of tea over the mason jar. “Have you had any luck in the…”
I shook my head, giving Debbie a hard look. The thing with Debbie, she just started to blurt out things to people she didn’t know. This wouldn’t go well in the very southern Baptist town of Sleepy Hollow, so I knew I had to put a stop to any further conversations and get Debbie out of here as fast as I could.
“Never mind.” Debbie tipped the pitcher slightly. The orange-tinted tea poured out into the glass.
“I expect those obits later this afternoon.” Fluggie gave me a hard look before she turned to leave.
“Mr. and Mrs. Clark, it’ll just be a second,” I assured them and ushered Debbie down the halls to my office.
Along the way, we passed an employee-gathering space along with a kitchenette where I had a refrigerator, sink, microwave, coffeepot, and a small table that was used for the four employees that worked for me. Myself included. They didn’t work full-time and had other jobs.
It was also available to the families of Eternal Slumber clients during their loved ones’ service.
“Let me grab a coffee, and we can go into my office.” I really wasn’t sure why Debbie was there, but if it’d not been for her, I’m sure I’d be in a completely different place right now.
A place with a dress code. I’m talking a white coat. Not just any white coat. The kind that wraps completely around and buckles in the back. They are very popular in places such as padded rooms.
Mmmhhhhmmmm.
A few years ago, I’d had an unfortunate accident. A run-in really. With a plastic Santa. It was Christmastime, and the entire town was all decked out for the arrival of Santa. Artie’s Meat and Deli was no different. Artie had one of those big plastic Santa figures he’d put on the roof of the deli. It’d snowed for a week straight.
On that particular day, it was unseasonably warm, and the sun was shining. Since I’d been cooped up in the funeral home all day, prepping for the funeral of Ruthie Sue Payne, I’d decided to enjoy a little sunlight on my face and walk down the street to Artie’s Meats and Deli to grab one of their bowls of delicious chili.
Like Granny made the best sweet tea, Artie made the best chili. My mouth was watering all the way down the street. The sun warmed my face, and there was a giddy-up in my step. Business was on a roll, and life was good.
Too good.
Before I could walk under the Artie’s Meat and Deli awning, the sun had melted the snow on the roof, and next thing I knew, I heard something. I looked up, and down came that big Santa, landing right on my head, knocking me flat out.
I woke up in the hospital with more than just a knot. Literally, I thought I was a goner like the clients I’d put six feet under, because Chicken Teater, a resident of Sleepy Hollow who I’d put in the ground a few years prior, and Ruthie Sue Payne, who had been a current Eternal Slumber client, were standing right next to my hospital bed.
They were there to take me to the Big Guy in the Sky. The Maker.
Or so I thought.
When I started to talk to them, it was then that I realized I was alive, and Granny, along with Charlotte, my sister, were by my side, trying to get Doc Clyde to figure out what’d happened to my brain because I told them about Chicken and Ruthie.
It was the turning point in my life and when I realized Santa had knocked me into a world where I could see the dearly departed. Dead people.
Doc Clyde was quick to diagnose me with the Funeral Trauma. He said I’d been around the dead too long and forced Granny’s hand on giving me a vacation. I’d yet to be the owner of the funeral home, so I had to do what she said because once it got around our gossipy town, clients didn’t want the crazy undertaker dealing with their loved ones, and they started to cancel their preneed funeral arrangements.
Ruthie.
Ruthie was my first ghost client. Her ghost told me she was murdered. She wasn’t crossing over until I helped her find her killer and bring them to justice.
Sounded easy. Not so much. Trying to sneak around and not be seen talking to a ghost had proven to be a bit harder than I’d anticipated. I thought I’d been fooling everyone and keeping the Funeral Trauma in check. Little did I know that Sheriff Jack Henry Ross was watching my every move and knew there was more than the Funeral Trauma.
He had an internal instinct that I was communicating with the dead. That’s where Debbie Dually, a psychic, had come into my life.
Jack Henry took me to see her, and that’s when she told me about my gift. Or a curse.
A Betweener.
“Sit down.” I gestured for Debbie to sit down in front of my desk.
The sun was filtering into the old office. The wood paneling had long since needed to be replaced, but I rarely spent time in here. If I needed to see a client, I generally took them into one of the viewing rooms so they could picture what they wanted, or we went into my sister Charlotte Rae’s office.
Charlotte was no longer among the living, and I missed her every day. When she came to me as a Betweener client, I didn’t want to help her because I knew once I found her killer, she’d leave me… forever.
“I’ll stand.” Debbie’s hand shook as she brought the glass of tea up to her lips. She walked over to the window and glanced out.
“How’s David?” I asked about her only son. There was some tension, and she loved talking about him. Asking her about him would definitely break the ice.
“He’s in his first year of college.” She looked back at me and put her hand up to her mouth. “David,” she gasped. Her eyes clouded with tears.
“Debbie,” I got up from the chair and hurried over to her. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
“Tell me you see dead people. Murdered dead people.” A tear dripped out of her eye and down her face. “I need to hear you say it.”
