by Tonya Kappes
“Ernest, you got her?” Granny asked my new lawyer. “I’ve got to get back to the Inn so I can get my repast food on over to Cissie Clark’s house. I want to make sure I’m leaving her in good hands.”
“I’m not good hands?” Jack Henry gave Granny a goodbye hug.
“What house? I thought they were going to have it here?” I thumbed through the pages until I found the repast sheet where her family had specifically asked to use the viewing room next to Purdy’s.
“Nope. Changed her mind a couple hours ago. Said it was best to have it at the house.” Granny pinched her lips together as a big sigh escaped through her nose.
“She didn’t call to tell me about the plans changing.” I knew exactly what was going on here.
“Word has gotten around.” Granny’s words flew all over me.
Cissie Clark’s little message was sent loud and clear without coming out and saying she wanted nothing to do with me or Eternal Slumber.
“Fine. If the Fords want to play that way and listen to Cissie Clark, I’ll play that way,” I warned and snatched up the folder.
“Emma Lee, now is not the time to be making any more enemies than you need to.” Ernest peeled off the blue leisure jacket and hung it on the back of one of the chairs in front of my desk. He unbuttoned each cuff on his pale-pink shirt and rolled each sleeve up like we were about to get down and dirty.
“He needs to let go a little and relax.” Debbie jingled her ghost self into the room. “If he’s going to be asking all sorts of questions about my death, I should be here.”
The new shadow of a ghost scooted in from the bathroom and stopped next to Debbie. The two of them seemed to have a conversation that I couldn’t hear.
“Emma?” Ernest smacked his hands together. I didn’t even see him sit down in the chair, much less scoot it up so he could have a surface to write on. “I have to know.”
“Know what?” I took my eyes off the two ghosts.
“Can I see you for a second?” Jack Henry opened the door to my office. “Excuse us, Ernest.”
“He sounds serious. I’m guessing he wants to know if you see me.” Debbie ghosted through the open door.
“I’m sorry,” I said to Ernest on my way out the door. “I’ll be right back.”
It was my ingrained southern roots that forced me to apologize. It was a way of life and taught to us at an early age.
Debbie and Jack were waiting for me in the vestibule. I took a quick look in Purdy Ford’s viewing room. Vernon hadn’t brought her up yet. I looked at my watch, and the funeral was going to be starting in an hour. There were things that needed to be done. It was a job, and no matter if I was a suspect, life still went on.
“Where are you going?” Jack Henry didn’t sound very pleased with me. “This is serious, Emma, and I don’t like how you’re just ignoring it. I know you see Debbie. I can tell by the way you’re acting, and if she doesn’t get the fact that it doesn’t look good for you, then you’ve got to find a way to get out of this. Trevor O’Neil isn’t going to stop. He’s already mad about the parking tickets, so I paid them for you.”
“I have to get Purdy’s funeral ready.” I was happy to see that John Howard Lloyd had already put all the chair covers on the viewing chairs. I walked down the rows and ran my hand over all of the fabrics on the tops of the chairs to take out any wrinkles. “Yes. I see her. She’s also got a lot of ghosts following her.”
John Howard had also left the memorial cards on the first seat in the front of the viewing room. I picked them. I smoothed out the long window curtains on my way back to put the cards on the stand where the mourners could sign the family’s register and pick one of the cards up.
“Debbie.” Jack Henry was so cute in how he talked to the Betweener clients even though he couldn’t see them. “It’s so important to tell Emma who might have something against you.”
“There’s Goddess Jillian, who loves to try to go by ‘Debbie’ and imitate me.” Debbie held up her hand and started to count off the people. “Mystic Mervin, Warrioress Roma, and Angela Ariel, to name a couple that are in town for the psychic convention.”
I hurried back to the stand, where I put the cards down, grabbed the pen out of the holder, and quickly wrote down the four names she gave me.
“This is a great start.” I looked at Jack. “Goddess Jillian, Mystic Mervin, Warrioress Roma, and Angela Ariel.”
Debbie could hear Jack Henry and everyone else, making it nice for me to not have to repeat everything back to my Betweener clients.
“Any last names?” He looked over my shoulder.
“When we take our oath as a provider to the spirit world, we don’t keep a last name professionally. I have mine because of David.” Debbie’s shoulders slumped. “Oh, David,” she cried out.
“I’ll go see David. I promise. Let’s do what Jack Henry said and get some sort of leads to check out before Trevor locks me up and I can’t do anything to help you.” The importance of finding out who would be upset with Debbie was starting to settle in.
“I’ll go get on my database and look up these people.” Jack Henry didn’t seem so positive when he took the card and looked over the names again. “Maybe a couple of them have some sort of record. That’d be great if they did.” Jack Henry gave me a quick kiss. “I’ll be back for the funeral procession.”
“I love you,” I told him.
“I love you, and this is why we need to get this all cleared up.” He reached out and squeezed my hand before taking off.
“Are they at the convention?” I asked Debbie and straightened the cards on the stand next to the signing book.
“They are making appearances on different panels, but they aren’t from our area. They come from all over the world,” she noted.
“How long is the convention?” I asked, knowing it was of the utmost importance to get there before it was over. I flipped open the signing book to the middle and ran my finger down the center to crack the spine so it lay flat on the stand. Satisfied, I flipped it back to the first page and was happy to see my little trick worked.
“Only four days. Today is the first day, so the quicker the better.” The other ghost appeared next to her. “Emma, this is Ernest’s wife. He’s been talking to her every night since she passed, and she wants him to know that she loves him, but he needs to ask Zula out.” She did a little skedaddle with her fingers, shooing me away. “Go on and tell him so Kate can rest in peace.”
“You want me to go in there and tell him that I see his dead wife and she wants him to date my granny?” I laughed.
“Who wants to date Zula Fae?”
The voice caused me to jerk around.
My elbow caught the stand. I reached out to stop it from teetering, but I wasn’t quick enough. It tumbled to the ground, scattering the cards all over the place.
“Who are you talking to, Emma Lee?” Bea Allen Burns had snuck into Eternal Slumber without me hearing her. She was looking at all the cards on the floor. Her heavy lashes that shadowed her cheeks flew up to meet my eyes. “Are you sick?” Her face looked like she was weaned on a pickle.
Chapter Eight
“Are you sick? She asked if you were sick?” Mazie asked about Bea Allen when I told her about the little visit.
We stood in the back of the viewing room while Purdy Ford’s loved ones went by the casket to get one last view of her and a last goodbye before Pastor Brown did his sermon to send her off.
“Can you believe her?” I’d found myself opening up more and more to Mazie about my personal life, not just my Betweener life.
It’d been a long time since I’d had a really good friend. In high school I wasn’t so popular. Let’s face it, living in a funeral home wasn’t the coolest thing for a teenager, and certainly no teenage boy considered it a good thing to date the funeral home girl. That was the nickname the mean girls in high school gave me, and it stuck.
“She’s so nosy.” Mazie didn’t say anything I didn’t already know.
The funeral was going fine. I didn’t even bother saying anything to Purdy’s family about the repast. I took Granny at her word, and she was right. I’d already had one falling-out with Bea Allen when she first showed back up in Sleepy Hollow after being gone for years. I was smart enough to know not to chew my cabbage twice.
“Did David say anything?” It was a good opportunity to ask her about the drive back.
“I did get some information about some clients to look into.” Mazie dug in her purse and pulled out a piece of paper. “This guy had come to the house several times before David left for college. He claimed that Debbie had told his wife he was cheating. He was there to confront her. Plus he dragged his wife with him a few times. Debbie never answered the door.” She pulled out another sheet of paper and unfolded it. “David said his mom didn’t want to call the cops, but he did. There was a police report and everything.” She handed me a printed-out version of the report. “I went back to the library and did a little research.”
I scanned the paper and found the address of the man and a statement from David, not Debbie.
“This is great.” I looked at her with wide eyes and a little excitement.
“That’s not all. David said he had checked the caller ID at Debbie’s business before he drove your hearse to Sleepy Hollow, and that guy had been calling consistently since David had gone off the college.” Mazie nodded. “This guy has been stalking her.”
“How did you know that?” I asked about her allegations.
“David told me there were also daily messages from the guy.”
“Did David let you listen to them?” I asked with urgency because those needed to be turned over.
“I asked to listen to them, but he wouldn’t let me. He was odd. He said that he had to think things through and listen.” Mazie rolled her eyes. “Whatever that means.”
“Listen?” I wondered if he meant he was trying to hear from Debbie.
“I thought we’d head to this address tomorrow and check this guy out,” Mazie suggested.
“There’s a few places I have to go. The Psychic Convention is my first stop, then I’ll see David.” I shook the paper. “And now this.”
“What time?” Mazie bounced with excitement. “Tomorrow is my off day.”
“Six a.m.” I told her the convention was open from seven a.m. to seven p.m. “The quicker I get out of Sleepy Hollow, the fewer chances Trevor has to stop by.”
I looked up to the front of the viewing room, where the Auxiliary women had gathered around Purdy Ford. Beulah Paige waved Mazie up there.
“It’s time to give our memorial. I’ll be here by six a.m.,” Mazie said over her shoulder on her way up the middle of the viewing room.
After all the women gave a fond memory of Purdy, Pastor Brown got up to the podium.
The sleeve on his brown pin-striped suit coat was a little too small, hitting above his wrist bone, exposing a tarnished metal watch. His razor-sharp blue eyes made his coal-black, greasy comb-over stand out.
“That man needs a new suit.” Debbie Dually had ghosted up next to Purdy.
I laughed and tried not to, but Debbie was getting a good look at our local preacher.
“Emma Lee,” Granny scoffed from the back row.
Bea Allen Burns was sitting in the row in front of Granny, and I couldn’t help but notice she’d turned around.
Granny noticed, too, because she hopped up and grabbed me by the elbow, dragging me out of the viewing room.
“You better hide that crazy because I heard Bea Allen Burns is using your little murder rap against you. She landed the Clarks’ arrangements today. You laughing at a funeral is a downright disgrace.” She snapped her beady eyes at me. “Do you understand?”
“Yeah.” I looked into the viewing room and noticed Bea Allen was still watching us.
“Remember.” Granny was about to give me some of her sound advice. “You can’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear.” She patted my arm. “I’m going to finish this funeral for you. Ernest said you didn’t talk to him about the case.”
“I will. I have to still run the business.” Granny had sold the funeral home to me, which made her more than qualified to finish the service.
“No. You need to go on over to the Inn where Ernest is having supper and answer his questions.” There was no wiggle room in Granny’s request. She meant business, and no one ever went against what Zula Fae Raines Payne said, or they would meet a side of her you never wanted to cross.
I gave the viewing room a good once-over before I took Granny’s advice and walked across the town square toward the Inn, stopping at the gazebo where Debbie was found by the Clarks.
“Come back to the scene of the crime?” Debbie appeared, as did Kate, Ernest’s wife. “Or are you on your way to tell Ernest about Kate since you didn’t do it earlier?”
“Debbie, you know I can’t go around telling people their dead loved ones are sending them messages. They will tell Granny who will tell Doc Clyde,” I hummed. “Maybe not Doc Clyde since they are on the outs. But whichever doctor she tells will have me locked up.”
“How on earth do you think Zula Fae is going to find everlasting love if Ernest isn’t going to let go of Kate?” Debbie asked, playing matchmaker.
“I guess Ernest will have to come to an agreement with himself.” I sucked in a deep breath.
“But how is Kate supposed to go on and live her afterlife?” Debbie swept alongside of me and Kate did too.
“When I find out who killed you, and you go to the great beyond, you can take care of Kate.” It was a logical explanation since Kate wasn’t a Betweener client, which made me not responsible for telling Ernest anything.
I stomped up the steps of the Inn without Debbie following me. Ghosting away after I refused to do something the client wanted me to was one of the characteristics each Betweener client had in common. It was like they were punishing me, and in Debbie’s case, she very well might be because it was my life that was really on the line.
There was nothing better than the smell of fried corn bread and brown-bean soup. Especially when Granny made it. The smell of Crisco and onions swirled around me before I even opened the screen door and walked into the Inn.
Crisco was one of the secret ingredients Granny put in her bean soup. It was definitely not low in calories. Neither was the fried corn bread. The sound of silverware and murmuring floated from the dining room.
“Gross.” Debbie reappeared, alone this time, pinching her nose. “I can’t stand onions.” Her voice contorted from cutting off her nasal passages.
It was hard to protest Debbie’s dislike for onions as I ignored her and walked into the dining room to find Ernest Peabody.
“Where is that awful blue jacket?” Debbie drifted above the room.
I stood up on my tiptoes to get a look over the tops of the heads.
Dusk filled the mountains with purple mist and streamed through the dining room through the back wall that was all glass. The Inn had a picturesque view like no other place in Sleepy Hollow. All the tables were filled, and most of the patrons were eating bean soup and corn bread. A few of Granny’s waitstaff were busying themselves with refilling tea and water glasses.
“I don’t see him,” Debbie reported back to me.
Me either, I thought to myself, making sure I didn’t respond to Debbie.
I took a quick look in the gathering room across the hall and found Ernest in a huge stack of cream pillows sitting on the large brown couch. The blue leisure suit matched Granny’s baby-blue floor-to-ceiling drapes perfectly.
“Mr. Peabody,” I greeted him with a smile. He sat up. “Granny is going to finish up Purdy Ford’s funeral for me so I could come talk to you. I’m sorry about earlier.”
“Fine.” He gave a hard nod and picked up his briefcase off the floor. He put it on the coffee table with a thud.
“Before you start, I do have some information about some of the people in Debbie’s industry that m
ight have a motive.” I hadn’t figured out what the motive was, but it was the list of names Debbie had given me. I took Purdy’s memorial card, which I’d written the names on, out of my crossbody bag and handed it to him. “You can write those names down if you want. I’d like to have the paper back.”
“Who are these people?” Ernest asked after he’d scanned the list.
“They are psychics that’ve had some type of issue with Debbie Dually in the past. I never had an issue with her. She was my advisor.” I tried to be as vague as I could be.
“Advisor? You believe in all the mumbo googly jumbo?” There was a hint of laughter in his voice that seemed to mock me.
“I try not to make fun of anyone’s beliefs.” I didn’t even tell him I believed in God, or he would have given me all sorts of reasons believing in a psychic was wrong. The same song and dance Doc Clyde had given me when I tried to explain to him that I did see spirits.
I’d embraced the reasoning that I’d become a Betweener as a gift from God, to be able to help people cross over while bringing justice to their demise. It was my way of accepting that I saw them. My purpose in life. Once I’d realized my gift, my stress level had gone way down, but my life had gotten a lot more complicated.
“Did she tell you something in your future you didn’t like and that’s what your argument was about?” he asked, clearly trying to give motive for being a suspect.
“No. She’d given me a reading a few years back, and she came to see me to make sure I was doing what she saw as my future.” It wasn’t a lie. Debbie had asked me to confirm my duties as a Betweener. To see murdered spirits.
“Why was she yelling?” He took a file out of his briefcase and opened it. “According to sworn testimony from the Clarks and the sheriff, she was yelling at you about between something. What was between you that she wanted resolved?”
“Between something?” Debbie came into the room. “Betweener! Tell him I wanted you to make sure you could see me after I’d seen my own death.”
“Own death,” I gasped and threw my hand over my mouth. It was the first time Debbie had admitted she did see her own murder before she was killed.
