A Ghost of a Chance

by Morgana Best

  “I don’t want anything fun or stylish, either,” I said, when she paused for breath. I didn’t think Katy’s idea of fun was going to end up anything like mine. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I just want the split ends cut off.”

  Katy swiveled my chair, and I was staring into a mirror. She waved her hand at my reflection. “Don’t be a party pooper,” she said.

  “My hair isn’t a party, believe me,” I countered.

  “Let me just tell you what I was thinking. Can I at least do that? Let me tell you that, and then, if I can’t convince you, we’ll give you the Elspeth,” Katy said with a chuckle. As frightening as it was to be in a chair in front of this crazed woman with blue and pink in her hair, seconds from her doing something to my hair, I decided right away that I liked her.

  “Okay, that’s fair,” I said. “Tell me.”

  Katy took a deep breath, and then launched into her pitch, her hands moving this way and that so I could see them in the mirror as she explained what she saw for the future of my head.

  “Cut it short. I mean short. All right, and I know, you have this long hair, and it’s beautiful, it really is, but short is in. I’m telling you right now, it’s in. Short. Short, short, short. Shorter than Tom Cruise, all right? Like, to here. Can you see my hand? There. Okay, and then this gets shaved down, and a lot of women scream when they hear I want to shave their heads, but I’m telling you, this is movie star stuff. So we do that, and then I’m thinking hot pink. Streaks. I’m not crazy—it would just be streaks.”

  “Katy,” I said, my eyes wide, “um, err.” I was truly speechless.

  She smiled at me in the mirror. “I knew it. I got you! I convinced you. Finally, someone in this little town who will let me transform them into a star.”

  “No,” I said, and I felt a little bit bad as I watched the woman’s face fall. “I’m sorry, but no. Please just cut off an inch.”

  “All right,” Katy said with obvious disappointment, holding up her hands. “You’re the boss, right?”

  I smiled. “Thank you.”

  The woman got to work. “Your mother tells me you took over your father’s business.”

  I nodded.

  “Sit still, girl, or you’ll end up with a shaved head after all.”

  I laughed. “Sorry.”

  “Your father never came in here. I think your mother did his hair herself.”

  “Yes, she cut it for him,” I said.

  Mom had been cutting Dad’s hair for as long as I could remember. When I was younger, I used to sit in the kitchen on the floor watching her. She cut his hair while he sat on a dining room chair that had been pulled over to the sink. That way Mom could easily sweep the linoleum tiles in the kitchen. She was never great at it, but my dad always let her do it.

  “I thought so. Well, my uncle died a few years ago, and your dad was so great to my aunt and all of us. You know I go to church with your mother. I can’t believe I haven’t seen you there yet,” Katy said.

  “Church isn’t really my thing.”

  I don’t think that was what Katy wanted to hear from me, but to my enormous relief, she changed the subject. “You know, I cut the hair of only one regular guy, Lester Denning. Do you know him?”

  “No, I don’t think so,” I said.

  “He works over at the grocery store. He’s the manager there. He’s a really nice man, but strange too.”

  I could tell she was itching to drop some juicy gossip onto my lap, so I took the bait. “How so?” I asked. Her last client had been sleeping while she had her hair done, so the poor woman was probably itching to impart some good gossip.

  “He wears make up. I swear it. I don’t know if he dresses like a woman too, but he’s come in before, and he has splotches on him that he’s missed. It’s mainly concealer and stuff. There’s usually some under his ear, things like that. And you know, he keeps his hair so short, that I think he does it to put a wig on.”

  “It sounds like you find out some secrets,” I said.

  “Oh, that’s nothing,” Katy said happily. She was so interested in talking with someone new, I didn’t even think she was upset about not getting to dye my hair pink and blue. “Do you know Martin Kaplan?”

  I tried not to gasp. Martin Kaplan was my number one suspect in Tiffany’s murder. “Sort of,” I said carefully.

  “Well, his wife, Louise, comes here. Did you know he was having an affair?”

  “He was?” I asked, trying to sound shocked.

  “Yeah, with that poor girl who died. You know, the one who was murdered.”

  I nodded. “I did her funeral.”

  “Right, well, that poor girl, sweet as can be, Tiffany was her name, she went to my church too, but she fell in with the wrong sort of man. Sleeping with a married man, it just isn’t right.”

  “No, it isn’t,” I said when she paused for breath.

  “Still though, that’s something you work out with God, and I hope she got the chance when she passed. It’s not for me to speak ill of her.”

  “So Martin Kaplan’s wife knew he was cheating on her?”

  “Yes, of course she knew.”

  “Was she very upset?”

  The stylish shrugged. “She didn’t seem that upset about the cheating, ‘cause she seemed more worried about the business.”

  “The café?”

  Katy nodded.

  “Why would she be worried about that?”

  “Her grandfather had opened that café, and when he retired, her father ran it. Then, when her father was set to retire, he passed it on to Louise.”

  I wasn’t quite following her train of thought, and hoped she’d come to the point soon.

  “Well, with divorce laws and all that, since they’d been married for so long, he’d get half of the café, which means they’d have to sell it and split up the proceeds,” she continued.

  “I see,” I said, hoping that I did. “So are you saying that if they got divorced, she’d have to sell the café that had been in her family for decades?”

  Katy clicked the scissors at me by way of affirmation. “Exactly!” she said triumphantly. “That’s right. She was really upset about that the last time she came in.”

  “When was the last time she came in?”

  “Actually, it was the same day that Tiffany was killed,” Katy said. “Louise had only just found out about the affair the night before. Boy, was she furious!”

  I gasped. “So Louise Kaplan had the motive for murder!” My timing couldn’t have been worse. Katy’s scissors stopped and she turned to the counter. Standing there was Louise Kaplan.

  “Is that new shampoo for colored hair in yet?” Louise Kaplan asked Katy, while shooting a nasty stare at me. If looks could kill! Clearly she had overheard what I’d said.

  Katy appeared unperturbed and rustled around in a cupboard, finally producing a giant bottle of shampoo along with a giant bottle of conditioner. Louise Kaplan paid for them and left abruptly, all the while glaring at me.

  My heart was thundering so loudly in my chest I could practically hear it. Katy droned on, this time telling me about a client who’d had a child out of wedlock, but I wasn’t listening. I nodded at intervals. By the time I paid, I had no idea what Katy had said, past the stuff about Tiffany and Louise.

  I walked out of Katy’s shop on legs that felt like they were jelly, and the drive home was a blur.

  Chapter 25.

  I walked straight into the funeral home and called out for Tiffany. I knew it was safe to do so, as Mom was away at one of her many church meetings. This time, she had organized a prayer meeting to pray against Devil’s Food Cake.

  Tiffany materialized in front of me, making me jump and gasp. As familiar with ghosts as I was, I would never get used to their sudden appearances.

  “What is it?” she asked. “I would say you looked like you’ve seen a ghost, but you know…”

  Any other time I would have appreciated the joke, but now I couldn’t even crack a smil
e. “I think Louise might be your murderer,” I said.

  “Louise? Martin’s wife?” Tiffany asked.

  “Yes.”

  Tiffany floated around to the other side of me. “Whatever would make you think that?”

  “Could you perhaps, well, walk?” I asked. “If it isn’t too much trouble. This floating thing kinda freaks me out.”

  “Not a problem,” she said, as she lowered her feet to the ground. “Go on, tell me why you think it’s her.”

  I took a deep breath and launched into my story. “Well, I was just at Katy the hair stylist, and she told me that Louise found out that Martin and you were having an affair just before you were murdered.”

  Tiffany shrugged. “It could be a coincidence.”

  I waved my finger at her. “Circumstantial evidence perhaps, but I’ve put it all together now. Louise is the murderer for sure! I’m going to call the cops.”

  “Behind you!” Tiffany said urgently, just before she vanished.

  “Who are you talking to?”

  I swung around to see Louise Kaplan, the last person I wanted to see. She closed the glass doors behind her and took a step toward me. Her face was contorted and menacing, her eyes narrowed and glittery. “You shouldn’t spread rumors in a small country town. Who were you talking to?” She carefully put her bag on the ground. With one hand, she grabbed my wrist with her bony fingers and with the other, snatched my phone and looked at it. “Who were you talking to?” she asked again. “There are no recent calls on your phone.”

  I took a step backward. “I was just thinking out aloud.”

  She released me and picked up the bag. “So you knew my husband was having an affair?”

  This time I couldn’t keep my mouth from hanging open. “Yes,” I managed to say. “And the police already know, too.”

  “So? They haven’t arrested me, have they! I was the victim in all this. I’m angry, and my anger hasn’t gone away just because the little tart he was sleeping with is dead,” she said. “I’m sorry if that offends you, but I didn’t much like the girl.”

  “I understand,” I said in a conciliatory tone. I had to think of a way out of this, and fast. She wasn’t holding a gun, but she could have any manner of weapons in the big bag she was clutching to her chest. She was blocking my exit, otherwise I would just make a mad dash for it.

  Louise jutted out her chin. “I heard you say you figured out I was the murderer. You were about to call the cops.”

  “They won’t listen to me,” I said, looking around for something to use as a weapon. There was a huge potted plant, but there was no way I could lift it. There were two paintings on the wall, but I’d have to go past Louise to get them. I was backed up into a corner with no possible way of escape.

  “I can’t take that chance,” she said. She reached into her bag and pulled out a large knife. I watched with strange fascination as the long blade reflected the florescent lights overhead. It all seemed surreal.

  I’ve seen movies where intended victims manage to talk their way out of situations, but I couldn’t think of a single thing to say. I was doing my best to focus on a way out when I heard a sound in the other room. “Did you hear that?” I asked her. “Someone’s out there.”

  “Oh my God!” she said. “Do you think I’m stupid enough to fall for that?” She snarled and made for me with the knife.

  Right then, my mother burst through the glass doors and hit Louise over the head with what looked to me to be a large, leather-bound Bible.

  “Don’t you take the Lord’s name in vain!” my mother said to Louise, who had fallen to the floor in a heap and appeared to be unconscious.

  Mom turned to me. “I’ve called the police. They’ll be here any minute.”

  “But, what? How? When?” I stammered.

  Mom appeared calm, if not rather offended. “You could at least thank me, Laurel. I heard what Mrs. Kaplan was saying to you, so I called the police. I was waiting in the other room, but when she took the Lord’s name in vain, I knew I had to act.”

  I tried to process that, but then thought it better if I didn’t. “Thanks, Mom,” I said dryly, “but I thought you were at church praying against Devil’s Food Cake.”

  Mom shrugged. “I was the only one who showed, so I canceled it.”

  “What does that tell you?” I said before I could catch myself. She had saved my life, after all, but I wasn’t too happy about her motivation.

  “That God works in mysterious ways,” Mom said without missing a beat.

  Duncan burst through the glass doors and stopped when he saw Louise lying on the floor, her large knife beside her.

  “She intended to kill me,” I said. “She admitted that she killed Tiffany.”

  Duncan pulled out his cuffs and bent over Louise, who was regaining consciousness.

  Mom picked up her huge black leather-bound King James Bible and examined it for damage. “See, Louise, if I’d used the Amplified Bible or one of those new little versions with the fancy paperback covers, who knows what would have become of you! Let that be a lesson.”

  “You lead the craziest life,” I heard a voice say. I turned to see Tiffany standing next to the wall.

  “Tell me about it,” I said.

  My mom looked at me. “Who are you talking to?” she asked, but fortunately Duncan’s fellow police officer, Bryan, charged into the room at that point.

  “Don’t worry, Bryan,” Duncan said as he stood up. “I took care of everything.”

  “Like hell you did!” my mother said. She slapped her hand over her mouth.

  Chapter 26

  For a moment my chest caught as panic seized me. I closed my eyes, and forced myself to calm down. I remembered now. Last night, I had almost been killed. My mother, along with her King James Bible, had saved me.

  My mother. I thought of her immediately. I practically jumped out of the bed and ran for the door. After a quick detour to the bathroom, I made my way into the kitchen. The clock on the stove told me in bold green numbers that it wasn’t yet ten.

  Ernie was leaning against the countertop.

  “Coffee,” I said, pouring myself a large mug. “I must get coffee, and fast. I slept in. My mom.”

  “I heard your boyfriend wants to put his pet sheep here,” Ernie said with a snicker.

  “He’s not my boyfriend, Ernie,” I said crossly. “He’s just the accountant.”

  Ernie shrugged. “Whatever. But then you’ll be able to do a ewelogy.”

  I nearly coughed up my mouthful of coffee. “That’s not even funny,” I scolded him. “Your puns are getting worse.”

  “I can tell you’re cross by the look on your face,” he said. “It’s a dead give away.”

  I shook my head, left my coffee, and sprinted for the funeral home. I hesitated for a moment, thinking there was a possibility that Mom was at church. After what had happened, I wouldn’t be surprised if she lived there for a month. Yet when I reached the funeral home, the front door was open. I knew that I had made the right decision.

  I sprinted for my office. I might be safe—it was five to ten. To my dismay, there were voices inside. With my heart in my mouth, I pushed the door open.

  Just as I had expected, my mother sat in my chair behind my desk. Across from her were two people. One was a woman, crying into a tissue. The other was Ian.

  “Oh, this is my daughter, Laurel. She helps me here,” my mother said dismissively.

  I was amazed at how quickly the gratitude I had felt toward my mother the previous day had been replaced with a desire for her to move across the country forever. “Mom, can I speak with you?”

  “One second,” she said shrilly, holding up a finger at me. “We were just wrapping up. Mrs. Benson has lost her mother. We were looking into some packages.”

  I nodded and stepped outside, allowing my mother to finish. I thought it best, to avoid a scene in front of a customer. After Mrs. Benson had been escorted out the door and was safely out of earshot, I glared at M
om. “What were you doing?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Someone needed to be here for the meeting. Did you forget about it?”

  “No,” I said. “Of course not. Mrs. Benson was early. I arrived here with minutes to spare, to find you in my office conducting the meeting.”

  Mom stood up, and so did Ian. “You slept in,” she said in an accusing tone.

  “So what if I did?” I said. “I was still here in time. Anyway, I was almost killed yesterday. That was a frightening experience.”

  “Fear is not of God,” Ian said, butting in. “I’m sure you feel closer to God now, dear.”

  “Why are you here?” I said loudly, turning on the man so quickly he flinched and stepped backward.

  “Perhaps I should be going,” he said.

  “Perhaps you should.” I tried to glare a hole into the back of his head as he left.

  “Laurel, I have no idea why you’re always so rude,” my mother said. “Is this the gratitude I get for saving your life?”

  I ignored that. I knew that fact was going to be thrown at me forever. “Why was Ian here?”

  “He was helping me. It’s always nice to have someone lending a hand.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Lending a hand for what? Helping you tell people how many types of wood we can make coffins out of?”

  “Don’t be so smart, Laurel. You know we don’t make the coffins,” my mother said in a scolding tone.

  It was all I could do not to scream. “Mom, please don’t meet with clients with Ian. In fact, I would prefer you not to do it all.”

  Mom frowned. “I’m going to go to church.” She left in a huff.

  I went to the office and sat in my chair. I didn’t even notice that Ernie had come in until he spoke.

  “How you holding up, kid?” he asked.

  “Fine thanks, Ernie.”

  “Tiffany was looking for you,” he said. “She wants to say goodbye.”

  “She’s, um, going on?”

  The ghost nodded.

  “Good. Where is she?”

  “Out at her headstone, she said. She wants to meet you there. She said she was going to wait a bit.”