A Ghostly Undertaking

by Tonya Kappes

  “Fine.” I bit my lip. I couldn’t believe what I was about to say. I paused and thought one more second before I spoke. “If trying to find out who killed you will get you out of here and not let everyone think I have a case of the ‘Funeral Trauma,’ I’ll do it.”

  I reached over and picked up one of Ruthie’s memorial cards and the pen from the visitor log. “Tell me what you remember.”

  “What are you doing?”

  “I’m taking notes.” I tapped the pen to the card. “This is how I’ve seen it done on NCIS.”

  Ruthie rolled her eyes. She didn’t argue. “I felt something pinch me, like a ring.”

  “Ring,” I stated out loud as I wrote it down. There was no significance to the word, it just seemed like I needed to write it down. “Big hands or small hands?”

  I had no idea where I was pulling these questions from, but I needed to gather any information I could. What I really needed to do was go back and watch past episodes of Ghost Hunter or Paranormal Mysteries to see how they handled ghosts.

  “What does that matter? It was two hands.” Ruthie shoved her arms out in front of her like she was pushing something. “Wait.”

  She paced back and forth making the forward pushing motion several times as if she was replaying the incident in her head.

  “Hello?” A male voice called out from the vestibule.

  I bit my lip. Ruthie was about to tell me something.

  Dang. It seemed important too.

  “Emma Lee?”

  “I’m sorry. The viewing is over for the night,” I called out on my way to see who it was. Normally I would let a latecomer visit, but Ruthie was about to tell me something important and this was far from normal.

  I stepped out in the foyer to find Sheriff Ross. He was looking official in his Sleepy Hollow brown uniform.

  I couldn’t help but inwardly swoon when he took off his hat, exposing his high and tight haircut and deep brown eyes. He could rock a five-­o’clock shadow like no one’s business.

  “Hey, Jack.” I put my hand on my chest. “You scared me to death. Don’t you know how to knock?”

  His mouth tilted to the side, giving me an irresistible smirk. In a low Southern drawl he said, “Emma Lee, I saw you through the window talking to someone.”

  “Me?” I pointed to myself. I shrugged, trying to keep a straight face, “Nope, not talking to anyone.”

  He put his hat back on and walked past me into the viewing room. He craned his neck as if he was looking for something. He turned around, narrowing his gaze.

  Ruthie fluffed her hair. “Whooo-­eeeee he sure does come from good stock.”

  I chuckled and threw my hand to my mouth.

  “I . . .” I couldn’t tell him about Ruthie’s ghost. He would have me committed. It wasn’t like we were good friends. He had been popular in school—­you know, the hunky athletic type. His crowd didn’t hang around the creepy funeral-­home girl. “I was singing and cleaning up for the night.”

  “Were you?” He weaved in and out of the chairs, making his way to the casket. “I didn’t know you were a singer.”

  “I’m not.” I ran my hands through my hair. My nerves were shot and standing here with Jack made them even more electric.

  “Why did you laugh out loud?”

  “Umm . . .” Great. He was going to think I was crazy anyway. “I can only imagine how I looked from the outside as I was in here singing my heart out.”

  He studied me for a moment. I tried to stand still and not give any sort of crazy-­girl vibe. Yes, I was going to have to go back and watch some reruns of NCIS. They always watched body language, and my insides were like a ball of electricity.

  “I went by and saw your granny tonight.” He took off his hat again when he stopped at the casket and held it close to his chest. Like a good Southern gentleman, he was paying his respects to Ruthie. His lips moved like he was saying a silent prayer.

  “You did?” I questioned after he turned back around.

  Ruthie fanned her hands toward Jack like she wanted me to tell him that she had been murdered. There was no way I was going to do that. Not yet at least, not until I had more information.

  “I did. I even had some of that fine sweet iced tea she makes.” He grinned. His eyes bored into me. “And some cookies.”

  Granny could make some dang good tea. She boiled her tea in the same pot, every single time. She claimed it was “seasoned.”

  “I’m a little curious about her relationship with Ruthie Sue Payne.” He rubbed his chin, making a little scratchy noise. “Something isn’t right with Ruthie’s death. I thought I’d pop over before Zula went to bed to ask a few more questions I had.”

  “I thought she already told you everything she knew.” I ran my hands through my hair. It had been an exhausting day and it only seemed to be getting worse. “Granny came home from the doctor and found Ruthie facedown, nose planted in the worn green carpet at the bottom of the steps.”

  “It’s no secret they weren’t close. Enemies in fact.” He pulled out a little notebook. He showed me a page with all sorts of chicken-­scratch writing I couldn’t make hide nor hair of. “I have a few witnesses that came to me after Ruthie’s fall, giving me details of just how much Zula and Ruthie fought.”

  “Oh, Jack.” I brushed past him and pretended to straighten the slipcovers on the back row of chairs. “You can’t possibly think that Zula Fae Raines Payne could murder anyone.”

  “Murder? I didn’t say Zula murdered Ruthie.” He paused. I could feel him staring at me, and couldn’t help but be a little paranoid that he was watching my every move. “I said something wasn’t right. Maybe Zula missed something or overheard something. Did Ruthie have a bad hip? Arthritis?”

  Ruthie rushed up to him, creating a whiff of air.

  I shrugged, a little angry at Jack. He might be a cutie patootie, but I suspected he thought my granny was a suspect.

  “Do you feel that draft?” Jack put his hands out to see where the puff of air had come from.

  “I know he can’t see me, but can he feel me?” She tried to blow on him several times. He didn’t flinch. “Tell him that I was murdered.”

  “Draft?” I said through chattering teeth, pretending like I had no clue what he was talking about. I shook my head at Ruthie as she took a seat in the last row. Jack didn’t take his eyes off the curtains as he walked over there. He used his hands to feel for a breeze. “What are you, a weathervane?”

  “Funny, Emma Lee.” He pushed the velvet curtains back and ran his hands along the window. “Strange. It’s tight, but you should get that checked out. I bet this old place has some big heating bills.”

  “Luckily it’s spring.” My heart fell to my feet when Jack came back and nearly sat right down in Ruthie’s lap. I rushed over and grabbed him by the biceps, veering him toward the chairs on the other side of the aisle. “Is this too far back from the viewing? I’ve been trying to decide if we have too many rows of chairs.”

  “I really wouldn’t have minded that hunk to sit in my lap.” Ruthie grinned.

  I laughed out loud. I couldn’t help it. Jack jerked away.

  “Emma Lee, is everything okay?” His dark eyes clouded with suspicion. “You’re acting funny.”

  “I’m fine.” I waved off the notion. What I really wanted to say was that I was not okay. I could see ghosts.

  He didn’t look like he believed me. He’d always been pretty smart.

  “What were you saying about Granny and this silly notion she had anything to do with Ruthie’s death?” I had to change the subject before I cracked and he had me committed.

  Ruthie leaned in her chair, taking in our conversation.

  “I’m not going to leave any stone unturned.” He pulled a piece of paper out of the back pocket of his brown polyester pants and jabbed it toward me. “I’m
here to serve you a warrant. I am stopping the funeral.”

  “For what?” Speechless, I stood there trying to wrap my head around the folded papers he handed me. Warrants were for those types of ­people who were troublemakers. As far as I knew, I wasn’t one.

  “Ruthie Sue Payne is not to be buried until I get to examine all the evidence, police reports, autopsy reports and any other reports I deem necessary in order to rule out any foul play.” By the look on his face, he was not joking.

  “I have to put Ruthie’s funeral on hold?” I asked, watching him jot something down on that little pad of paper.

  “Yes. That’s exactly what I’m telling you.” He nodded but continued to write. “Until further notice.”

  “Further notice?”

  “Yep.” He tapped the folded paper in my hands with the edge of his pen. “It’s all in the warrant.”

  “That could take days.”

  “Maybe weeks. Months,” he casually said like it was no big deal.

  It was a big deal. Keeping a body in the refrigerator was not on a funeral-­home director’s high-­priority list.

  Ruthie stood up and wrung her hands. Her jewelry jingled. I watched to see if Jack could hear her noisy baubles, but he didn’t turn Ruthie’s way.

  Thinking about keeping Ruthie in the refrigerator made my stomach curl. Especially with no next of kin to claim her.

  “I guess you are going to have to figure that one out.” He pointed toward the casket. “That is not going anywhere near the ground.”

  He placed his hat back on his head.

  “How do you know it wasn’t some random accident or killer on the loose?” I asked. “Think about it. ­People come in and out of the inn all the time. ­People we don’t know.” Granny was always telling me how strange some of the earthy hikers that came to Sleepy Hollow to explore the caves and gorges were.

  “I’m checking all of that.” He started to walk to the entrance. “Like I said, no stone unturned. No Ruthie in the ground.”

  I snarled. He didn’t have to talk to me like I was a child and didn’t understand what he was telling me. I got it. Ruthie or her ghost was going nowhere until I solved the crime.

  “Wait.” I jumped in front of him. “What about Granny?”

  “I told her to get a lawyer just in case.” He reached out and touched my arm. “I adore Zula. But sometimes ­people do things out of character when they get mad. I’m not saying she did it. But I am saying that something isn’t adding up with the whole falling accident.” He pointed to his gut. “Call it intuition.”

  “I told you!” Ruthie stood behind Jack, nodding in agreement over his shoulder. “I was murdered. Ouch.” She reached around and pressed on her back. The same place she had told me the hands that shoved her were placed.

  “Trust me.” He reached out and put his warm, strong hand on my shoulder. Giving it a little squeeze, he said, “I want to prove Zula didn’t do it. So make sure she cooperates, and you too.”

  “We will.” I pictured Granny on one side of me and Ruthie on the other. Ruthie’s spider brooch began to haunt my memory of Granny wearing it exactly where Ruthie had specifically written in her arrangements. And they really didn’t get along.

  But murder? No way. Now I had to find out exactly who had done this to Ruthie. Granny’s future was at stake. The Sleepy Hollow Inn was the first stop.

  Chapter 4

  After Jack left, I rushed to my office. Charlotte loved to buy office supplies. She was the only kid I knew who couldn’t wait for school to start because she loved getting new paper, pencils and a Trapper Keeper. If I was going to do this detective thing, I could take a lesson or two from Jack. Starting with getting a little notebook out of the supply closet.

  I made sure that Jack’s cop car was nowhere to be seen when I jumped into the hearse, my ride. It was highly unusual for ­people to drive a “death coach” around, but I couldn’t afford to buy a car, and the hearse got me where I needed to go. And right now I needed to get over to the inn to see Granny.

  I looked up and down the street to make sure Jack wasn’t parked somewhere, staking out my every move.

  It was about as good of a time as any to make a visit to one Zula Fae Raines Payne.

  Wincing from stomach pains, I realized I had forgotten to eat, being so busy with the layout and my run-­in with Ruthie. I pulled into the local burger joint, getting all sorts of stares from the tourists who had stopped to grab a bite before they headed to the caves.

  “What? Haven’t you seen a hearse go through a drive-­through?” I mumbled and manually rolled down the window as I pulled up to the speaker.

  “Can I help you?”

  “I’d like a number-­two meal with a Coke.”

  “Pull around.”

  “That stuff will put you in a pine box like me if you keep it up.” Ruthie appeared in the passenger seat.

  I jumped. “What are you doing here?”

  “I’m going with you to see exactly what kinds of lies Zula Fae is going to tell you.”

  “She doesn’t lie.” I pulled up to the window and waited for the fast-­food cashier to tell me what I owed. Maybe Granny stretched the truth, but she never lied.

  “I want to hear for my own ears what she has to say about me.” Ruthie pointed toward the cashier hanging out of the drive-­through window with her hand open.

  I dropped some money in her palm, waited for my food and finally drove off before I said anything to Ruthie.

  “Aren’t you supposed to stay at the funeral home?” Wow. The movies really did have this ghost thing all wrong.

  “I can go anywhere.” She shrugged. “Why would I stay there, when all I care about is figuring out who killed me? The quicker we figure it out, the faster I get to join the love of my life—Earl.”

  I didn’t mention that Earl’s love had been my Granny.

  “Why do you insist that Granny had anything to do with this?” I reached into the bag and took a handful of fries before turning the hearse on Main Street. With my mouth full, I said, “You are making it very difficult for me to help you if you continue to accuse the ­people I love.”

  “I’m not accusing her. All I know is that someone pushed me.” She winced, wrapping her hand behind her back. “Zula lives there. She hates me. It’s easy to jump to the conclusion that she killed me.”

  “What’s wrong?” I took a sip of Coke and drove around the town square to get to the inn.

  “I swear there is some sort of bruise right here.” She continued to knead her back. “Can you look and see?”

  The thought of looking at what was under Ruthie’s pajamas sent chills up my legs. Though it would be interesting to know if she really did have something under there causing her pain. Did ghosts really feel pain? Apparently Ruthie did. Her eyes squinted as she continued to rub.

  “It’s going to have to wait until later.” I gulped down my food before I pulled into the gravel parking lot of the Sleepy Hollow Inn. A flashbulb going off caught my eye and Ruthie’s.

  The man from Ruthie’s visitation, the one who had been sitting with the mayor, was across the street from the inn with a camera in his hand. He jumped back into his Mercedes when our eyes met. He sped off, spitting loose gravel under his tires.

  “Do you know that guy?” I asked Ruthie. He definitely wasn’t from here. The only person who drove a fancy car like that was Mayor May. She had a fancy PhD from an Ivy League college.

  “Never seen him a day in my life.” Intensely she stared after the speeding car.

  “He was at your visitation.” I took one last sip of my Coke and watched the car turn the corner, heading out of town. “He was talking with the mayor about something that is going to be brought up at the council meeting.”

  “He was probably there because she never has time for anyone and he finally pinned her down at my layou
t.” She tapped her fingernail on the window.

  Across the street, I spotted Jack sitting on a bench in the square staring at us . . . me.

  I had a feeling he’d show up here.

  “I thought he would be watching to see if I came by here.” I waved at him. He smiled, melting my heart.

  “Do you have a boyfriend?” Ruthie asked.

  “No.” I turned the car off, grabbed my notepad and opened the door. “Guys think it’s a little creepy to date the funeral girl. At least in this small town.”

  “I’m going to have to take you to a karaoke bar,” Jack hollered across the road.

  “What?”

  “You must love to sing, because you are doing an awful lot of it lately.” His smile faded, his eyes hardened. “Are you sure there isn’t anything you need to tell me about Ruthie?”

  My mouth slammed shut. I was going to have to watch when and where I talked to Ruthie, because Jack was keeping a close eye on me.

  Ruthie must’ve agreed with my dating issues because she didn’t say anything. She shuffled her kitty slippers to keep up with me as I headed up the front steps of the inn.

  There was nothing like the Sleepy Hollow Inn in the state of Kentucky. The pale yellow brick made the white four-­pillar-­long veranda stand out. As soon as I stepped on the porch, the tension in my shoulders seemed to fade away, but not Ruthie. She didn’t fade anywhere.

  Four white rocking chairs on the front porch screamed relaxation and the potted ferns between them were the biggest this side of the state.

  Granny said she gave them a sip of tea to help keep them looking so fresh. Maybe I should be sipping more of Granny’s tea and less Coke, I thought, looking back at Jack.

  He gave a slight wave. I turned back around. I didn’t mind the attention from him, even if it was under false pretenses.

  “Maybe you should do something with your hair.” Ruthie reached out. “Don’t worry.”

  “What’s wrong with my hair?” I asked under my breath so Jack’s supersonic ears couldn’t hear me.