by Morgana Best
“Yes, as we kept saying last night,” I said. “So I’ll ask him if he has any information he can give the police. We’ll tell him that we’re friends of yours and that you confided in me that you were worried about his gambling problem.”
“He always has a break at ten,” Jezza-Belle said. “His boss at the music shop is very rigid and insists he takes a break at precisely ten every morning. He always leaves by the back door, which is in an alley. We’ll wait for him there.”
And so, filled with caffeine, Jezza-Belle and I stood at the back of the music shop at five to ten. I insisted on being there early, but Jezza-Belle said that he would come out at precisely ten.
She proved to be right. As Harper emerged from the back door, a look of shock covered his face when he saw us. “Do you remember me?” I asked him.
“Of course,” he said. “You run the funeral home. You did Jezza-Belle’s funeral. Of course I remember you.”
“This is my mother, Thelma,” I said, “and we were good friends with Jezza-Belle. She confided in us that she was worried about your gambling problem, and we want to ask you if there’s anything we can do to help.”
Jezza-Belle held up her hands. “I know that sounds presumptuous of us, but we were such good friends with Jezza-Belle and we want to do this for her. Is there anything we can do to help?”
I nodded. “Jezza-Belle was worried you were involved with the wrong sort of people, that you owed the wrong sort of people money.”
Harper took a step backwards, and eyed us with suspicion. “Jezza-Belle never mentioned either of you.”
“I think she was embarrassed about us,” I said, “because we look kind of normal.” Jezza-Belle shot me a dirty look.
Harper appeared to be thinking it over, and then said, “You!” He nodded to Jezza-Belle. “You look way too conservative to be a friend of Jezza-Belle’s.”
“Ask me something private about Jezza-Belle and I’ll prove that I know it,” Jezza-Belle said.
Harper shifted from one foot to the other. “What was Jezza-Belle’s real name?”
“Annabel Judson,” Jezza-Belle said.
Harper narrowed his eyes. “You could have found that online.”
“I don’t think it is online,” Jezza-Belle said.
“What do you want?” Harper said, still clearly suspicious. “I only have a short break, so can you come to the point?”
“The point is that Jezza-Belle was worried you are involved with the Mafia or something. She was worried they were threatening you. She told us how much money you borrowed from her, and she was afraid that they would harm you if you didn’t pay them back.”
Harper folded his arms over his chest. “Who are you really?”
“You know I run the funeral home,” I said. “We are who we say we are.”
Harper shook his head. “Jezza-Belle would never be friends with people like you.” He looked from me to Mum. “I can see her being friends with you,” he said, pointing to me, and then to Jezza-Belle, “but not someone like you. Jezza-Belle would never be friends with someone like you.”
“Appearances can be deceptive,” Jezza-Belle said. “Jezza-Belle and I were such good friends that we have matching tattoos.”
Harper snorted rudely, a snort that disintegrated into raucous laughter. “Sure. Have you women come here to make fun of me?”
“We have matching tattoos in the very same place,” Jezza-Belle insisted.
“What a load of…” Harper said, and then his jaw fell open. He went the most ghastly shade of pale green I have ever seen, and then I looked beside me.
Jezza-Belle had ripped off her shirt. Apparently, she wasn’t one to wear one of Mum’s bras, and I got a very good look at a large colourful tattoo of a flaming skull on a certain part of her anatomy.
I stood there, frozen to the spot, not knowing what to do, when I spied Stephen Stonewall, the reporter. He was writing furiously in his notepad. I only hoped he hadn’t whipped his camera out at the wrong moment.
When I looked back at Jezza-Belle, thankfully she had covered up.
“I’m sorry I doubted you,” Harper said. “You must have been really good friends with Jezza-Belle. That tattoo is exactly like the one Jezza-Belle had. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“Neither have I,” I said. “I’ll probably be in therapy for years now.”
Jezza-Belle took over the conversation. “So the reason we’re here is that Jezza-Belle was very worried about your gambling and she wants you to get help for it. She was worried that some Mafia type guys were leaning on you to pay them back, and she was wondering if you could get help for your gambling. Isn’t there something like Gamblers Anonymous or something like that?”
While Harper seemed pleased that Mum a.k.a. Jezza-Belle was friends with Jezza-Belle, he was highly defensive about his gambling. “I don’t have a gambling problem anymore,” he said.
“Gamblers and addicts always say that,” Jezza-Belle said, coming straight to the point. “I, I mean Jezza-Belle, lent you over two hundred thousand dollars. Only someone with a serious gambling problem could be in debt to that degree, and Jezza-Belle thought that you hadn’t paid it back to your creditors. She was right, wasn’t she?”
Harper looked at his shoes, so I added, “Last night Mum and I saw you at the charity auction. We were just leaving, and we saw those five Mafia looking guys speaking to you and they seemed really angry.”
“I can pay them back,” Harper said. “Believe me, I’ll stop gambling now. What happened to Jezza-Belle gave me such a fright that I stopped gambling on the spot. I don’t owe those men much money anymore, and I’ve just applied for a credit card to pay them back.”
Jezza-Belle groaned. “A credit card, Harper, seriously?”
“It’s not ideal, but it’s better than being killed,” I said.
“I don’t owe them that much money,” Harper said. “Nobody is getting killed.”
“Jezza-Belle did,” I pointed out.
Harper looked at his watch. “Jezza-Belle wasn’t killed over money. Anyway, my break’s over. I have to get back inside.”
“How do you know Jezza-Belle wasn’t killed over money?” I asked him.
Harper turned back to me. “I meant she wasn’t killed because I owed money to anyone, that’s what I meant.” He hurried back into the shop.
“Do you still think he didn’t have anything to do with your murder?” I asked Jezza-Belle.
She was silent for a few moments before answering. “I’m sure he didn’t murder me, but do you think those Mafia men might have murdered me as a sign to him?”
“Surely not,” I said. “That’s going a bit far. Then again, who knows?”
We walked down the alley to my car, when the reporter jumped out at us. I let out a shriek of surprise, followed by, “Are you following us?”
“I’m just doing my job. I seriously think you need to take your mother back to the church. Clearly, the deliverance didn’t work on her.” He chuckled.
“If you took any photos, we’ll sue you,” Jezza-Belle said.
“We’ll see about that,” Stephen said smugly. “Do you have a quote for me?”
I clamped my hand over Jezza-Belle’s mouth. “No, she doesn’t.”
Chapter 12
I was excited because Basil was coming over to my house for dinner, and I hoped he would stay the night. Following Tara’s directions, weeks ago I had set up a protective magical barrier around my apartment so that ghosts could not get in. I didn’t want any ghostly eyes intruding on my privacy.
I languished in a long hot bubble bath that was filled with luscious rose and vanilla fragrance, and then slipped on a flattering summer dress. I hoped there would be no emergencies tonight. I had done all the preparation work for the funeral the next day, the funeral of Liliana’s father. There were still some things left to do, but they could all be easily taken care of the following morning.
Five minutes before Basil was due to arrive, I turned off my
mobile phone, and pulled the landline out of the wall. My relationship with Basil had moved to the next level at tax time, his busiest time of year, so we hadn’t had much time to spend with each other.
I’d like to say I had cooked a delicious meal, but truth be told, I had ordered it from a local restaurant. Still, by the time I plated it up, it would look home-cooked.
The front doorbell sounded, and I hurried out to let Basil in. Ernie appeared and gave me the thumbs up. He whistled at me. “Where have you been lately, Ernie?” I asked him. “You’ve been conspicuous by your absence.”
He shrugged. “Your mother creeps me out.”
“You and me both. What else is new?” I asked him. “That’s never worried you before.”
He faded in and out for a moment. “It’s just that your mother is possessed. That’s really scary.”
I had no idea how to respond. I opened the door and Basil swept me into his arms. “Not here—we have an audience.”
Ernie appeared to be insulted. “I’m not a voyeur,” he said in an offended tone and then vanished.
I walked as fast as I could to my apartment without appearing too eager, and then firmly shut the door behind Basil. “Alone at last,” I said. “No ghostly eyes here.”
Basil slipped an arm around my waist and pulled me into his arms. He pressed his lips to my cheek, and for a moment we stood there in each other’s arms. Then he kissed me, and I had to grab onto his solid arms to stop myself from toppling backwards. “What’s that delightful aroma?” he asked.
“Malaysian satay,” I said. “Unless you’re talking about me, in which case it’s rose and vanilla.”
Basil smiled and nuzzled my neck which had the usual effect of making me go weak at the knees. I wondered if we could forgo dinner altogether, but then Basil said, “Let’s eat. I’m starving.”
Basil and I walked hand-in-hand to my kitchen. “Can I help?” he asked me.
“Thanks, but all the preparation is done,” I said. I didn’t happen to add that someone else had done the preparation.
The Malaysian satay was delicious. I was fishing the salted caramel ice cream out of the freezer when the front door buzzer sounded loudly. “I’m not going to answer that,” I said to Basil.
“What if it’s the police?” he asked me.
“Surely they’d call first,” I said, but then I realised that my phones were turned off.
The buzzing was relentless, so I gave up. I walked with long strides to the front door, furious with whoever would be standing there. I flung the door open to see Jezza-Belle. “Jezza-Belle, I told you I was having dinner with Basil tonight.”
She stood aside a little and I saw Ian behind her. “Laurel, the Bible says to respect your elders,” he admonished me. “You shouldn’t call your mother names. I know she had a little problem with demons, but she’s over that now. Though she was scarlet, she’s been washed as white as snow.”
Jezza-Belle grimaced. I could see by the lack of mean expression on her face that she wasn’t Mum. I raised my eyebrows at her, looking for an explanation. Jezza-Belle wasted no time in giving me one. “I was watching TV by myself, when who should call by but Ian?” She shot him a fake smile. “What a pleasant surprise that was. Anyway, I’m still recovering from the knock on my head so I thought I should invite you and Basil over.”
Ian eyed us suspiciously. “You two aren’t living in sin, are you? Fornicators will not inherit the kingdom of God.”
“There is no chance of fornication around here, Ian,” I said crisply. He nodded his approval, but then I added, “Not with you visiting us.”
Ian appeared puzzled by my words.
“Anyway Ian, you and Audrey are living together. Isn’t that fornication? Why is it all right for you and not for anyone else?”
Ian frowned. “That’s different.”
I was about to ask why it was different, when Jezza-Belle spoke. “I told Ian I was tired, but he insisted upon staying, which is why I thought I should come and get you, Laurel.”
“Good idea, Mum,” I said. “Basil and I can pop over for a short time until Ian goes.” I hoped Ian would get the hint, but if he did, it would be the first time.
I trudged the short distance to Mum’s house, disappointed that my romantic evening with Basil was ruined. When Basil and I walked into the living room, I saw a huge Bible open on the coffee table.
“Ian wanted me to read from the Bible,” Jezza-Belle said.
“Thelma and I often spend evenings reading from that particular Bible,” Ian said, “so I thought I’d bring it over to help Thelma return to some sort of normalcy. She seemed to be having trouble with the words though, which is not like her.”
“Mum hasn’t been herself lately,” I told him. “Not since that big knock on her head.”
Ian folded his arms over his chest. “Let’s call a spade a spade, Laurel. There is nothing hidden that shall not come to light. Everything hidden under a bushel is always found. Thelma needed deliverance and that’s why she wasn’t herself. It happened before she had the head injury.” He waved his hand. “Anyway, let’s not look at the past, but forge on to the future. Why don’t we all take turns reading this Bible?”
I looked at the Bible, and saw it was quite a fancy one with long drop caps in a flowery font. “This is a very elaborate Bible. It must be worth a fortune.”
Ian’s face lit up. “It’s a family heirloom. Some people have trouble reading it, because the letter S in this ancient Bible looks like the modern letter F. Now, why don’t I just fetch some refreshments, and we can all sit around and read a chapter each?”
“Sounds like a load of fun,” I said sarcastically.
Ian nodded enthusiastically. “Quite so.” He disappeared into the kitchen, but soon reappeared wearing a deep frown. “What’s this tool of the devil I found in the refrigerator?” He held up a bottle of wine.
“That’s non-alcoholic wine,” Jezza-Belle said, as quick as a flash. “Do you go to that little supermarket on the far south side of town?”
Ian shook his head.
“They sell it there,” Jezza-Belle said.
“Non-alcoholic wine. What a good idea,” Ian said over his shoulder, as he disappeared into the kitchen. He soon returned with four coffee mugs, and filled each with what he thought was non-alcoholic wine.
“Where’s Audrey?” I asked him.
Ian took a gulp of the wine and then smiled primly. “Audrey is too tired to come out at night for Bible readings. Thelma and I finished reading the book of Philemon last time, so we’re up to the book of Hebrews. Of course, we’re reading the King James Version, the only Bible written by God.” He indicated that we should all sit around the huge Bible, and he turned to the first chapter of Hebrews.
The Bible was magnificent, line drawings on most pages, and the edges were gold. I gulped my wine, and then went to the kitchen to fetch more. Jezza-Belle must have bought it after she discharged herself from hospital.
When I returned, I refilled the mugs, but was careful not to refill Ian’s. To my dismay, he grabbed the bottle and topped up his own mug. “We’re up to Chapter Two now, Laurel,” he said.
Was I imagining it or was his speech slurred? I shot a look at Jezza-Belle. She, too, appeared to be under the weather, and then I realised that it made sense—after all, she was in Mum’s body, and Mum had never partaken of alcohol in her life.
“I’ll read Verse 17,” Ian said, as Jezza-Belle continued to giggle to herself.
Ian hiccupped. “Wherefore in all thingf it behoved him to be made like unto hif brethren, that he might be a merciful and faithful high prieft in thingf pertaining to God, to make reconciliation for the finf of the people,” Ian read smugly. He hiccuped again, and then said, “Your turn, Thelma.”
“Ian, it isn’t an f. It’s an s—it only looks like an f,” I said.
Ian giggled wildly in response.
Jezza-Belle sighed and leant over the Bible. “For in that he himfelf hath fuffered being te
mpted, he if able to f…”
“That’s enough!” I said loudly, and slammed the Bible shut. I had seen the rest of the verse: He is able to succour them that are tempted. “Come on Ian, Basil and I will drive you home.”
“But my car is here,” he protested. “And we haven’t finished reading the whole book of Hebrews.”
“You can save that for another time,” I said. “That will give you something to look forward to.”
“But my car is outside,” he protested again. “I’m not going anywhere. You can’t make me.” He took another slurp of wine, but missed his mouth and poured wine down his shirt.
I shook my head and signalled to Basil. He followed me into the kitchen. “What are we going to do?” Basil asked me.
“I’ll ring Audrey.”
It turned out that Audrey took it quite well. I explained that there had been a mix up with the non-alcoholic wine and that Ian had actually consumed the alcoholic wine. Audrey didn’t go to Mum’s church, so she was quite a reasonable person. She said she would call over to collect him presently.
We walked back into the living room to see Ian and Jezza-Belle taking turns to read the Bible. “It’s a wonder this didn’t make Mum emerge,” I said to Basil. “This is quite her thing.”
“Perhaps your mother can’t bear how they’re pronouncing it,” Basil said, “so she’s hiding. Jezza-Belle is reading 2 Corinthians 6:2.”
I looked over Jezza-Belle’s shoulder at the part she was up to: …have I succoured thee. “Oh!” I winced.
Chapter 13
I sat across from Reverend Brown in my office. A pleasant man, Reverend Brown was a local Uniting Church minister who usually conducted the non-denominational funeral services. He was always easy to deal with, and I never had any problems with him. I was, however, worried about upcoming funerals given that Jezza-Belle was still possessing Mum. My biggest fear was that Mum would take over Jezza-Belle at some point during a funeral and make a big scene.
