by Morgana Best
“It also says people are not allowed to wear two different fabrics at once.” I touched the edge of his suit. “This looks to me to be more than one fabric, John. You’re in danger of going to hell for this, according to your reasoning.”
John turned a deathly shade of white, and ran his hand through his combover. His mouth opened and shut in a good imitation of a goldfish.
I walked over to the refreshment table and selected the most fat-laden cookie on display.
Ernie appeared suddenly and without warning. “Laurel, it’s urgent!”
Chapter 7
I dropped my cookie.
“Are you okay?” Pastor Green shot me a worried look.
“Oh, yes,” I said, glaring at Ernie. “I just remembered something. I’ll be back in a second.”
I walked to my office, noting that Janet was talking to John Jones. How she found that man attractive, even pleasant, was beyond me. Ernie followed me closely, staying mercifully silent. “How’s the new ghost?” I asked once I was in my office, figuring that was the problem. “Frank’s not handling the afterlife?”
“He’s okay, other than being dead,” Ernie said, “but Laurel, he can’t move on until the murderer is found.”
I sighed. “I’m fully aware of that. It’s a common ghost problem, as common as ghost-specific problems can get, anyway.”
“Can you hurry up and find the murderer?” Ernie pleaded. “He’s very, very annoying. You wouldn’t believe how annoying a ghost can be.”
I have a pretty good idea, I thought. Aloud I said, “If solving murders was easy, we wouldn’t have detectives. And that’s the point; we do have detectives, so I’m leaving the detecting up to them.”
“Speaking of which, I have bad news,” Ernie said, his voice once more taking on an urgent tone.
“What is it?” I asked, swallowing nervously. It wasn’t like Ernie to act seriously, so whatever it was, it couldn’t be good.
“I overheard the detectives speaking,” Ernie explained. “Laurel, they blame Thelma. They think your mother did it.”
I was relieved. “Don’t worry, Ernie. It’s only natural they’d see her as a suspect. He was killed in her bedroom, after all.”
Ernie hovered over to me. “Not a suspect, Laurel, the suspect. They’re going to pin it on her. They said that nobody could be that strange, and that she’s playing it up to appear as though she isn’t fit to plead. That is, they think she’s acting insane, instead of simply being insane.”
I was at a total loss for words. “But why would Mom murder somebody?” I asked, my voice barely a squeak.
Ernie held his hands in the air. “Duh! They think she’s a religious zealot. They now realize she actually did hire him to escort her somewhere, but now they think she murdered him when she found out just what kind of escort he really is. Or was, I suppose, depending on whether you believe in ghosts or not. As a ghost, I do.”
I fixed him with a stern look. “You’re not joking? This is for real?”
Ernie nodded. “Yes. They said there’s no use looking at anybody else. They said it’s obvious that Thelma’s the murderer. Besides, she did have those hats with hat pins in them. They just want to wrap this up and then get outta town. I heard them with my very own ears.”
I had no idea what to make of all this, but unfortunately, it added up. Now it was clear I would have to track down the killer, and do so before the police arrested my mother for a crime she did not commit. “Wait a moment. What do hat pins have to do with it?”
“The murder weapon, of course.”
“Frank was murdered by a hat pin?”
Ernie burst into laughter. “Frankly, I have no idea if that’s Wright. The police took all your mother’s hideous hats, though.”
I shot him a withering glare. “Stop saying that! It wasn’t even funny the first time.”
Ernie shrugged one shoulder. “You know what this means, don’t you?” Before I could answer, he continued. “You have to solve the murder, unless you want your mother to go to prison.” He raised his eyebrows. “Come to think of it, it mightn’t be such a bad idea. At least you’d get some peace.”
I thought it a tempting idea, if only for a moment, if I were to be honest. “No, I can’t have Mom going to prison for a crime she didn’t commit,” I said firmly, and somewhat regretfully.
Just then, Frank appeared.
“Thank goodness you still have your clothes on,” I said by way of greeting.
“No one’s ever complained before,” he said with a wink.
I rolled my eyes. “Still in the business, I see. Well, your flirting won’t get you anywhere with me. Not only am I alive and you’re not, but I have a, um...” My voice trailed away.
“Boyfriend?” Ernie supplied.
I didn’t know if Basil was officially my boyfriend. I supposed he was, but he had not said as much. While I was hesitating, Frank sidled up to me. “Most of my clients had boyfriends—husbands, even.”
I held up my hand. “I don’t want to know. What I do want to know, is if you recognize any of the guests.” And I’m grateful I have wards around my apartment so ghosts can’t get in, I added silently.
“Guests?” he said.
Ernie groaned and put his head in his hands. “To be frank, this is going to be difficult.”
“Ernie!” I snapped. “And Frank, were you married?”
The ghost flickered. “No.”
“Did you have a girlfriend?”
Frank stared at the ground.
I took that as an affirmative. “What’s her name?”
Frank hovered upward. “She had nothing to do with it.”
I shook my head. Why were ghosts always so difficult? “Please just tell me her name. If you say she didn’t have anything to do with your murder, then it won’t matter, will it?”
Frank’s image faded. “Mandi. Mandi Major. She had nothing to do with it, though.”
“Thank you. Frank, there are six guests staying in Mom’s house. I want you to go to the house and take a long, hard look at each of them. And while you’re at it, Mom has a builder working in her kitchen. Get a good look at him, too. See if you recognize any of them, and then report back to me.”
Frank nodded and then vanished, thankfully followed by Ernie.
I went back to join the others. I headed straight for Mom, and drew her aside. “Mom, where did you have those old hats of yours with the hat pins in them? You used to have them on the hat stand downstairs, in the laundry room.”
“Oh, those?” Mom waved her hand dismissively. “Yes, that’s where they still are. Or where the hat stand is. The police confiscated the hats and hat pins,” she said as an afterthought.
“They did?” I said loudly.
“Shush!” Mom snapped. “What will people think?”
“Why did they do that?” I said in lowered tones.
“Not because they wanted to wear them to church,” Mom said waspishly. “They took them to help in their investigations. You’re an intelligent girl, Laurel; surely you could have figured that out for yourself.”
I took a deep breath. Perhaps I could let her go to prison, after all. The idea was beginning to be appealing.
Just when I thought things couldn’t get any worse, I was enveloped in a tight hug. When I finally managed to extricate myself, I looked up into the flushed face of John Jones.
“What are you doing?” I snapped. “Hug me again, and I’ll have you arrested.”
“Don’t be so rude to John,” my mother admonished me. “My dearest wish is that you and John marry.”
“Hell would freeze over first!” I snapped.
Mom’s jaw fell open. “Laurel, you said the H-word.”
“I can say whatever I like, Mom. This is my funeral home, and if you and John can’t behave, you’ll have to leave. I’ve already given John one warning.”
Mom and John clutched each other, but before they could speak, Ian appeared and handed me a foam brick. “Laurel, you should
take notice of the Good Word written on the brick.”
I wished I hadn’t accepted the brick, but I suppose it’s instinct to take something when handed it. I read it aloud. “Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself.”
“Mark chapter twelve, verse thirty-one,” Mom, Ian, and John said in unison. Their collective tones were overly sanctimonious.
“Hang on a moment, I’m missing something,” I said. “This is written on one of the bricks you were going to place on the wall between the mourners, between what you called the heathens and the righteous?”
The three of them nodded happily.
Chapter 8
I was sitting in Tara’s favorite café in the main street in town. If I were to be precise, it was really the only street in town. It was a warm day, but the breeze provided pleasant relief, as did the shade of the tree under which I was sitting, swatting at pesky flies.
Tara had been my best friend since high school, and when I had left to go to university in Melbourne, Tara and I had kept in close touch. Tara had married Duncan, now the local police sergeant, and today I wanted information from Tara about the murder weapon. I had already told her this when I had invited her for coffee, and she didn’t seem to mind, although I did not want to put her in an awkward position.
I was thinking on this and didn’t see her arrive. “Laurel!”
I squealed. My hands flew to my throat. “I didn’t see you.”
Tara laughed. “Obviously!” She sat beside me. “Should we be sitting out here with all the flies, or inside?”
“Up to you, but there are probably as many flies inside as they are out.”
Tara put her purse on the ground. “You’re probably right. Anyway, do I have some news for you!”
I was intrigued. “What is it? Have you found out what the murder weapon was?”
Tara waved a hand in dismissal. “No, not yet.”
She was going to say more, but I interrupted her. “Mom finally told me that the police confiscated her hats and hat pins.”
A strange look passed across Tara’s face. “If it does turn out to be one of the hat pins in your mother’s house, it doesn’t mean anything. The house was full of people, so they shouldn’t think it was your mother more than anyone else.” Tara’s words tumbled out, one after the other.
“What aren’t you telling me, Tara?”
She fidgeted in her seat. Unfortunately, the waitress chose that very moment to place our coffees in front of us.
“Oh, you already ordered?” Tara said.
“Yes, I got the usual. You didn’t want something different, did you?” Before she could answer, I pressed on. “What were you going to tell me?”
Tara swatted flies for what seemed like a full minute before answering me. “Laurel, I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about, but Duncan said the detectives suspect Thelma.”
“Is it just because of her, um, personality?”
Tara stared at her spoon. “Yes, I’m afraid so. They think she’s acting like it deliberately, so she can avoid prison by being not fit to plead. I didn’t want to tell you this, but you always said you’d rather know, no matter how bad it was.”
I nodded. I had my hand clamped over the top of my latte so the flies couldn’t dive bomb it. “I really do appreciate you telling me. Yes, I’d always rather know. I just don’t want to put you in an awkward position with Duncan.”
Tara smiled. “Leave Duncan to me. Anyway, I can’t wait to tell you what I found out. It’s about your mother.”
I looked into my latte. “I don’t think anything you could say about my mother could surprise me.”
“Don’t bet on it,” Tara said. “Have you ever heard about the narcissist mother and the scapegoat daughter?”
I was puzzled. “Is that kind some kind of Disney film or something?”
Tara nearly choked on her latte. “No, silly,” she said when she had recovered. “I was just watching YouTube, and I came across something on the narcissist mother and a scapegoat daughter. Sometimes there’s a golden child as well, but since you’re the only child, you’re it, the scapegoat. It explains exactly how your mother is. You should google it. It’s absolutely amazing. Some scapegoat daughters end up having to have absolutely no contact with the narcissist mother.”
“I can certainly relate to that,” I said seriously. “Thanks for the heads up. I’ll google it when I have time.”
“You’ll see! It will put her behavior into perspective. Apparently, it’s quite common.”
I had to laugh. “I thought I was the only one to have a mother like that. Anyway, back to the detectives suspecting Mom. Ernie already told me that, but he isn’t always the most reliable source. Tara, could you please do a spell to help the police find the real murderer?” Tara and Basil were the only two people who knew I could see ghosts. Of course, Basil could see them too, but Tara couldn’t. Tara practiced witchcraft. She was a solitary—that is to say, she wasn’t in a coven.
Tara’s expression turned solemn. “I’m already on it. As much as I don’t like your mother, no offense, I wouldn’t want to see her go to prison for a crime she didn’t commit.”
James and Jenny Thorogood walked into the courtyard, smiling at me before they took a seat under the shade of a tree on the other side of the courtyard. They were sitting with their backs to me, but were in full view of Tara. “Now see that couple who just walked in?” I said in hushed tones. “That’s James and Jenny Thorogood. There are another four people staying with Mom, and the seventh suspect is that guy who’s building Mom’s kitchen. He’s from her church.”
Tara snorted. “Of course he is. Your mother only hires people from her church, even if they’re not qualified for what they’re doing. Remember the time she got that electrician who didn’t have a license to change her fittings, and it blew the power in half the town?”
I put my hands over my eyes. “At least the builder’s definitely qualified. He charges her a fortune, but he does have a lot to put up with.”
Tara readily agreed. “You certainly can’t begrudge him his money. He sure earns it.”
I couldn’t speak for a moment, because some children ran past our table, yelling and hitting each other. “Basil and I are going to look into the suspects. We have to find the motive. If the police aren’t going to do it, then we’ll have to.”
Tara leaned across the table. “Be careful. Anyway, would you like cake?”
I groaned. “Well, now that you mention it. I was going to try to resist.”
Tara stood up. “I’ll go and order now. Do you want to come in, too, so you can choose?”
I shook my head. “No, just choose something you think I’ll like. Nothing healthy like a carrot cake or anything—something really bad for me would be nice.”
Tara laughed. After she left, I leaned back in my chair, enjoying the cool breeze as it carried the fragrance of eucalyptus trees to me.
“Laurel.”
I opened my eyes to see John Jones sitting opposite me. I had heard someone approach, but assumed it was Tara. “What are you doing here?” I said, none too kindly.
“I saw you sitting here and I didn’t think you wanted to be alone,” he said, winking at me.
I resisted the urge to vomit, only with some difficulty. “I’m not alone. I’m with my friend, Tara, and she’s just gone inside to order more food.”
“Why don’t I join you?”
I shook my head. “No, John. Tara and I wish to speak in private. We want to be alone.”
John’s hand flew to his mouth. “You’re not Olympians, are you?” he said. At least, I think that’s what he said, given that it was hard to hear him with his hand over his mouth.
“No, of course we’re not Olympians,” I said. “You know that.” I was entirely puzzled, but I think he had been hanging out with my mother so much that she had rubbed off on him. Still, for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out what he meant by Olympians.
“Oh, that’s such a relief,” John said. “
You had me worried there, Laurel. If you were an Olympian, then we could never date.”
“We cannot and will not ever date, John Jones,” I said angrily. “You need to stop harassing me. Remember, Thou shalt not covet another man’s girlfriend. Hezekiah chapter three, verse one.”
John looked horror-stricken. “Did you make that up?”
Mercifully, Tara returned at that point and shooed John from the chair. He walked away, looking back over his shoulder at me.
“I don’t know why Janet doesn’t just invite him out and get it over with,” Tara said.
I sighed sadly. “Janet wants him to ask her.”
“I think he only has eyes for you, Laurel.”
I held up a hand in protest. “Eew! Anyway, what did you order for me?
Tara smiled. “A white chocolate blueberry pie. What did you say to John Jones?”
“I pretty much told him to go, and said I had a boyfriend.”
Tara looked contemplative. “What exactly is the boyfriend situation?”
“I wish I knew!” I said, holding up my hands. “We’ve kissed, but we haven’t exactly talked about it.”
Tara giggled. “There’s nothing to worry about. Basil adores you, Laurel.”
I shrugged. “Why hasn’t he come out and made things clear?”
“It’s a progression, I suppose,” she said thoughtfully. “He has a lot of things going on at the moment, what with being a new millionaire and all.”
“He isn’t one yet,” I pointed out. “He has to wait until probate’s through, and that will be months.”
“Give him time,” Tara said. “Basil’s friend was recently murdered while he was parachuting with him, and then Basil found out he was the sole heir. He was even arrested. There’s nothing wrong between you, is there?”
“Oh, no, nothing like that,” I hastened to add. “Like I said, we’ve kissed, and we hang out together and stuff. I just hope....” My voice trailed away.
“You’re worrying about nothing. Men don’t kiss their friends.”
