Nothing to Ghost About

by Morgana Best

  Mom continued, more loudly. “He found God while he was in prison. He’s a changed man.”

  “Prison?” I said with alarm.

  Mom raised her hands to the ceiling. “Terence dearly wanted to be at Alec Mason’s funeral, but he was still in prison. But now he’s out!”

  Now I was really worried. “Mom, was Terence in Alec Mason’s organized crime gang?”

  Mom pursed her lips and shot me a cold glare. “He was, but he has repented. All his sins have been washed white as snow. You know how compassionate I am. I thought hiring him was the right thing to do.”

  I shrugged. “Okay, but he’s not allowed near the funeral home.”

  Mom hurried toward the front door, muttering to herself. I caught the words, ‘ungrateful’ and ‘little brat’. I went into my office and checked my messages. There were none. I really had to do something to drum up business. I sighed and left, being careful to lock the office door behind me.

  Terence Bailey was down the ladder when I got to the house. He looked tough, but I wondered if that was simply because I knew what he had done to make a living most of his life. Really he was just a man in his sixties with a tired looking face. He didn’t need to be up on the roof in the hot sun. “Miss Bay?” he said.

  “Laurel is fine,” I said with a smile.

  “I suppose your mother has told you about my criminal past,” Terence said, “but now I’m a blessed man! Blessed, I tell you, not lucky. Being lucky is not of God, but being blessed sure is. Praise be!”

  Call me cynical, but it seemed to me to be an act. “I don’t go to Mom’s church,” I said dryly. “I’m a heathen.”

  Terence gave me an appraising look and then curled his lips into a thin, mean smile. “Trouble finds me wherever I go. Big trouble finally caught up with Alec Mason. But I’m different now, so trouble is going to be leaving me alone.”

  I in turn summed him up, and decided to be upfront. I had nothing to lose. “Terence, the funeral business has been going downhill since Preston Kerr was murdered at Alec’s funeral. Obviously the two deaths must be related somehow. Do you have any idea who killed Alec Mason?”

  Terence thought for a moment. “You mean whoever killed Alec killed this Preston guy?” Before I could respond, he continued. “But he was a singer, so it doesn’t seem like he would run in the same circles as Alec.”

  I shook my head. “No, I don’t mean that. The police obviously thought that Alec’s killer would attend the funeral, so what if his killer killed Preston, too? It really is the only likely explanation.”

  Terence looked skeptical. “What motive would they have?”

  I shrugged. “Who knows? But surely there can’t have been two murderers. And the cops don’t seem to be making much progress.”

  He grunted. “And they likely won’t. Alec Mason was involved with people who had ears and eyes and money in all the right places, and if they don’t want to be found, they won’t be. People die sometimes, and everyone might even know it’s their doing, and nothing comes from it.”

  I was surprised by his words. “So you think someone killed Alec Mason, and nothing will come of it?”

  Terence leaned forward. “I know it.”

  “Terence! Laurel!” My mother shrieked from the front door. “Come in for a nice cup of tea!”

  I walked inside the house with Terence, and followed Mom into the dining room. She had laid out her best silver and finest antique china. I noticed Terence’s eyes light up. I’d have to keep a close watch on that man.

  Mom ignored me and gushed over Terence. “Terence,” she cooed, “have some sponge cake. I made it myself.” She cut a huge slice of the gooey, cream-topped cake and deposited it on his plate. She continued to ignore me.

  “Now, Terence, you are coming to the church working bee tomorrow? We’re scrubbing that place from top to bottom! It will be a wonderful time of fellowship and hard labor.”

  “I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Terence said. “Praise be!”

  Mom finally looked at me. “Terence found God in prison, and so he was granted an early release. How wonderful is that? Good things come to good people.” She narrowed her eyes at me, and I figured I wasn’t counted amongst the good people.

  “Praise be!” Terence said for the umpteenth time.

  I nodded, resisting the urge to ask what God was doing in prison. That seemed a smart thing for Terence to figure out, a good ploy to get out of prison early. Of course, I kept my opinions to myself.

  “Laurel, I left the chocolate cheesecake in the kitchen. I’m sure Terence would like some. Would you get it, please?”

  I stood up at the same time that Terence spoke. “Mrs. Bay, would you mind playing some of that lovely gospel music, please? Praise be! Do you have the hymn, Come ye Sinners Poor and Needy?”

  Mom jumped up. “Yes, I’m sure I have that one,” she said gleefully.

  I returned moments later with the cheesecake to see Terence stuffing a silver teaspoon in his pocket. When he caught my eye, he pulled it out of his pocket and polished it on his jeans. “It was a bit dirty, I’m afraid,” he said. “Please don’t tell your mother or she’ll be embarrassed.”

  “Just don’t do it again,” I said pointedly.

  Terence met my gaze and held it, his stare guileless. The nerve of the man! I’d have to call Duncan later and give him the heads up.

  Soon the mournful drone of Come ye Sinners, Poor and Wretched filled the house, dispersed with random interjections of “Praise be!” from Terence. I fought the urge to flee. I had to stay to ensure that Terence didn’t rob the place, so entertained myself by counting all the silverware and memorizing it. I wasn’t looking forward to the conversation I would have with Mom later. I knew she wouldn’t believe me, but I’d have to tell her, nonetheless. And I would tell Duncan, too.

  Chapter 20

  “God almighty works in wondrous ways! It took a cleaning bee to get her here, but my prodigal child is finally joining the flock!” Mom crowed as she made her way down the aisle, waving handfuls of rags over her head like pompoms.

  I ducked my head, my cheeks burning as a scattering of strange voices took up the cheer. It was all I could do not to run right back out the door.

  “I’m just here because Mom forgot her purse,” I protested, the light dawning on me that Mom had deliberately forgotten her purse. I avoided the eyes of a dozen or so faces staring my way. While I wanted to set the record straight, I did not want to insult them by outright declaring that I had zero intention of returning.

  A kindly woman smiled encouragingly at me from over her thick bifocals. “Of course, dear. You really should attend a service before you make a decision not to attend, though. We’d really love to have you. Our doors are always open.”

  And I had been right about Mom’s reaction. Mom had outright told me I was mistaken about Terence stealing her silverware. Duncan, thankfully, had taken the opposite viewpoint.

  Ian suddenly appeared at my side like a doleful specter. “Hello, dear,” he said in a patronizing tone. “I’m glad we finally got you to church. There’s a Bible study tonight. We will see you there, won’t we?”

  “No,” I said, “but you will see yourself stop calling me ‘dear’.” I had to find Mom in a hurry and hand over her purse, so that I could escape. Mom had beaten a hasty retreat after announcing to everyone that I was here, and now was nowhere to be seen. I looked around once more, and my eyes fell on Terence Bailey.

  He was peering at the silver candlesticks by the altar. I watched him for a few moments, and he didn’t move. I supposed he was wondering how he could sneak them out.

  “Oh please, you are not that desperate,” Janet’s voice said from behind me. “I know you’re a little overweight, but you can do so much better. You just need to wear more makeup.”

  I shook my head. “No way!” I whispered urgently. “I’m just making sure...”

  Janet interrupted me. “That he doesn’t steal anything?” she said loudly.
/>   Terence looked up at us, and took the candlestick out from under his coat. “I’m just cleaning it,” he said. He set it back in its place.

  He was fast. I hadn’t even seen him take it.

  “Come now, Janet. You’re treating our guest like a criminal,” Ian chided her. “The Good Book says, ‘Judge not lest ye be judged.’”

  “Yes, and it also talks about traveling blindly around ditches.” Janet shot back. “And that guy probably found more than a few ditches to dump people in. I prefer to travel with my eyes wide open, thank you.”

  Finally, I caught sight of Mom. She was clapping her hands loudly. “Ladies! And gentlemen, of course! Time for refreshments.” She vanished out a door at the back of the room.

  I was swept along by the crowd into a large room, pristine white with speckled tan tile, filled with folding chairs and long tables covered in thin plastic tablecloths. The tables were laden with cakes.

  I had almost reached Mom when one of the ladies thrust a cupcake into my hands. “It’s so good to have you here with us. Your mother said you’d like one of these.”

  I took the cake. “Thank you.” It emanated a heavy sweet scent of syrup and brown sugar, and it was covered with a scattering of some sort of shaven or crumbled reddish brown confetti. There was another smell too, but it was so masked by the smell of the sweet that I could not quite make it out.

  I was staring at the odd color of the icing, when Janet reached out and took one from the plate. “Oh my goodness! And I thought bacon couldn’t get better. Laurel, you don’t know what you’re missing.”

  “Thank you,” the woman said earnestly. “It’s my first time making them. I found the recipe online.”

  My mouth fell open. Bacon on a cupcake? Surely that went against the laws of nature. Cakes were for sprinkles and candied fruits or nuts, or a cream filling, but not bacon.

  “That vegetarian thing is ruining you to new experiences.” Janet said with a mouth full of bacon-laced frosting. “No wonder you can’t get a boyfriend.”

  “You’re a vegetarian?” the woman asked in alarm as she snatched the cupcake back from my hand. “Thelma! Why didn’t you mention that your daughter is a vegetarian?”

  “It’s just a phase she’s going through,” Mom said, waving a hand dismissively.

  Now was my opportunity. “Here’s your purse, Mom.” I thrust it at her. “Make sure nothing gets stolen out of it.”

  Mom shot me a glare of disapproval. I turned away, to see Terence stuffing cakes into his pockets at a rapid rate. I think some of the cutlery went in, too.

  “Just like a woman, to get all in a knot over a little bit of nothing.” The voice was familiar, and a clammy hand landed on my shoulder and gave it an overly familiar rub.

  I knocked his hand off my shoulder. “Touch me again and I’ll have you arrested,” I hissed in a low tone. “I’m not joking!”

  John Jones appeared unfazed. “You ought to get used to a little meat.” His tone was encouraging. “You can’t cook a man a good meal with carrot sticks and lettuce. Now, what time can you be ready for me to take you out to dinner tomorrow night? It’s not natural that you’re not married and you run a business. There is no man to provide headship for you.”

  “Listen carefully, John Jones,” I said firmly, all efforts to be quiet forgotten. “I am not your date. I am not going anywhere with you—ever. You need to stop harassing me.”

  John Jones gave a long-suffering sigh. “Laurel, I know you’re playing hard to get, but there comes a time when you need to settle down and find a man to take care of.”

  I finally lost it. “Listen to me,” I said again, this time loudly. “Keep away from me, John. Don’t ever speak to me again!”

  John looked at me with confusion. “This is the strangest courtship I’ve ever been a part of,” he said.

  Mom burst into shrieks. “How could you! My only daughter, making a public display of herself!” She ran from the room, dabbing at her eyes in a dramatic fashion. Some of the ladies shot glares at me, and ran after Mom.

  “See what you’ve done,” Ian said. “Your poor mother, having an ungrateful child like you.” He turned to those still in the room, those not consoling my mother. “It must be the Demon Alcohol talking.”

  They all nodded sagely.

  “Let me tell you; it soon will be,” I announced to all and sundry. “I’m off to visit with my good friend, the Demon Alcohol, right now.”

  Chapter 21

  I sighed as I picked up my cup of green tea. I relished my quiet times alone. To my delight, Mom was at church. She had organized a prayer group to pray against Sharon Anderson’s lust for Phillip Baker. I wondered how that would play out, given that Sharon and Phillip would be present, as would Phillip’s wife, Katherine. I bet Sharon Anderson was sorry she had ever confided in Mom.

  Just as I touched the tea to my lips, the doorbell sounded. Mom had asked Terence to install a musical doorbell that played the hymn, Only a Sinner.

  I sighed and set down my tea, staring at the wisp of steam that wafted invitingly above it. At least Duncan had taken care of Terence. When Duncan had gone to the church cleaning bee to have a little chat with Terence, he found his pockets crammed with cakes and cutlery, and his car filled with the church silver. Terence wouldn’t be on Mom’s roof again anytime soon.

  I was halfway to the door when it rang again. To the words of ‘Boasting excluded, pride I abase,’ I opened the door, to see John Jones standing there.

  “Mom’s not here,” I snapped, but as soon as I said the words, I realized he knew only too well that Mom was at church.

  He held up a rose that was half-smothered in grocery store cellophane. “Good day, Laurel.”

  I put my hands on my hips. “What do you want?”

  He frowned, glancing at the flower and back at me expectantly, as if I might somehow have missed it being shoved under my nose. “Your mother said if I gave you flowers, you might go to dinner with me.” He continued to hold out the flower to my face.

  This was all too much. “John Jones, I will never go to dinner with you. Go away now, please. Don’t make me get a restraining order on you. It’s getting late and I have to feed the sheep.”

  “Sheep?” John shot me an incredulous look. “Well, I should take care of the sheep for you. You should be preparing dinner, while a man works with the animals.”

  I took a step closer to him. “Stop right now, John!” I said angrily. “I just want to be left alone. There’s not a snowball’s chance in hell I will ever go to dinner with you. All hell would freeze over first!”

  As soon as I said the word ‘hell’ the first time, John Jones clamped both hands firmly over his mouth. He carefully laid the rose on the ground, and then backed away, as if he were dealing with a wild animal.

  I waited until I was sure he had driven away. No doubt my tea was now cold, so I decided to go and see the sheep. It was time to open the gate onto fresh pasture, anyway.

  “Arthur! Martha! First one here gets a treat!” I called as I waved the rose in the air. I had no intention of taking the thing into the house. I opened the gate to the fresh pasture, which was green and lush with new grass. The sheep had already been eyeballing the field for the last couple days. “Arthur! Martha!”

  I wondered where they were. They always ran over when they saw me. I’m sure they thought that my sole purpose in life was to feed them at every available opportunity. I finally saw them under the river oaks, and they were not alone. Basil was with them.

  Arthur and Martha were butting each other out of the way, vying for Basil’s attention as he patted their heads. The sheep noticed me and came running. Basil laughed as he was promptly abandoned in favor of a woman with a fresh flower.

  “Looks like they have a new favorite,” Basil said, a hint of envy in his eyes as he watched the sheep stare up at me expectantly.

  “Cupboard love, I’m afraid.” I ripped the petals off the rose and gave shares to each of them. “Sorry guys, that
’s all I’ve got today. I’d give you the stem, but I didn’t have a chance to cut off the thorns.”

  The sheep looked up at me with disgust. They waddled straight back to Basil, seeking out his hands and sniffing at his pockets to make sure he wasn’t holding out on them.

  Basil chuckled. “So you’re buying them flowers now?”

  I laughed. “No. Just sharing the overflow when my swarms of suitors shower me with more than I could possibly fit in the house.”

  Basil patted Arthur’s back. “Thanks for having Arthur and Martha here.”

  “You’re welcome,” I said. “ Arthur and Martha are such sweeties, and they keep the paddocks trimmed nicely.”

  He grinned. “And dispose of the gifts from your rejected suitors?”

  “That too.” I smiled at him. “It could be worse, though. At least he didn’t resort to clubbing me and dragging me back to his cave.”

  “That bad?”

  “I’m sure it’s nothing a little pepper spray wouldn’t fix.”

  At once Basil’s face was filled with concern. “Well, be careful. Please keep on your guard.”

  “I’m fine, really.” The pepper spray joke must have been a little too much. “I’m just letting off a little steam. John Jones is extremely annoying—and that’s an understatement—but I’m sure he’s perfectly harmless.”

  Basil shook his head and looked decidedly uncomfortable. “I’ve had a feeling lately that you might be in some sort of danger. Look, I realize that sounds crazy.”

  I hurried to reassure him. “It doesn’t sound crazy at all. I firmly believe in that sort of thing.”

  Basil looked shocked. “You do?”

  I nodded. “For sure. There’s a lot out there that we can’t prove. I’m very open-minded about visions, premonitions—you name it. I believe in tarot, all of that stuff.” And I talk to ghosts, I added silently. Not that I could ever tell anybody that one. I’d find myself questioned about what the voices tell me to do, and likely get a pretty pill to make them go away. Not that the stuff would work for my ‘condition’. You can’t medicate a genetic gift of sight. They’d already tried that when I was a young child, thanks to my mother.