A Ghostly Undertaking

by Tonya Kappes

  I twisted the light and squatted down to get a better view.

  “It’s a bruise.” I dismissed the small black and purple circle that was no bigger than a dime and moved away.

  “It’s not just a bruise.” Ruthie craned her neck and shifted her pajama top to see if she could get a look at it. “It hurts.”

  “Bruises hurt.” I didn’t see what the big deal was. Old ­people were always bruising themselves. “I’m sure it’s from the fall. You did fall down a flight of stairs.”

  “How many times do I have to tell you that I didn’t fall?” Ruthie mumbled. “I’ve been feeling it since the two hands pinched me and then pushed me.”

  “Wait!” I twirled my finger, signaling her to turn back around. “Let me see it again.”

  Ruthie stood and I placed both my hands on her back. The bruise was in a perfect place for a pinch from someone’s right ring finger.

  “Did it feel like your skin got pinched by a ring?” I pulled my hands away and then put them back.

  “Maybe it was a ring.” Ruthie agreed. Her voice escalated.

  Did we have our first real clue? Excitement boiled in me. I walked over to the closet in my office where I kept different suit jackets and a jewelry box for quick wardrobe change in case I needed one. I was notorious for spilling food on myself or a drip of coffee or two.

  I grabbed a ring and put it on my right ring finger.

  “Pull your shirt back up,” I ordered her, and put my hands on the spot on her back. Ruthie’s skin and pajama top were so thin, it would be easy to give her a little pinch.

  I bent down and got real close. There seemed to be some sort of imprint on her skin where the small bruise was.

  “Hold on.” I took a closer look and outlined some indentions in the bruise. “Look.”

  Ruthie twisted and turned to try to get a look.

  “What is that?” Ruthie questioned. “It looks like it branded me.”

  “It’s some sort of imprint from the ring.” I zeroed in on the small detail of a pointy-­shaped thing and a hole. The hole looked like it should be filled.

  I picked up my notebook. “I think we have our first real clue.”

  I jotted down my new discovery and drew a picture of what I had seen.

  Chapter 9

  Knock, Knock.

  I jumped and looked around to find Vernon Baxter knocking on my office door. He was a stately older man I was sure was the cat’s meow in his younger years. His salt-­and-­pepper—­more salt than pepper—­hair, along with his steel-­blue eyes, made him look very old-­Hollywood debonair.

  “Hey, Vernon.” I had completely forgotten Dr. Baxter was coming in to do the autopsy on Ruthie that Jack Henry had ordered. “You scared me.”

  Ruthie walked over to Vernon, big grin planted on her face. Her jewelry jingled when she reached out to touch him. He stepped forward, walking right through Ruthie. She looked down, almost disappointed that he didn’t feel her.

  She gathered her hands to her heart, sadness dripped on her face, she hung her head and disappeared.

  Odd. I took in Ruthie’s reaction when she saw Vernon. Quickly I jotted a V in my notebook to remind me to ask Ruthie about her reaction when she saw him.

  “Sorry, Emma Lee.” His blue lab coat made his hair look much grayer than normal. There was concern surrounding his eyes. “I’m a little shocked that Sheriff Ross is investigating Ruthie Sue’s death as a murder.”

  “No stone unturned is what he said to me.” I closed the notepad. The clock on the wall said I had fifteen minutes to get to the town council meeting and I didn’t want to be late. The last thing I needed was to bring more attention to myself. Especially now that I was undercover.

  I held Ruthie’s file out for him to take. Now that the death was considered under investigation for a possible homicide, all the paperwork had to be changed. And the death certificate would take even longer to get. Like it or not, Ruthie was going to be here for some time.

  “I hope they find out who did this.” There was such a sincerity in Vernon’s voice, it made my own heart ache. He took the file and opened up to the first page, where we always tape a living photo and death photo of the client. He stared at the page. “She was such a good woman.”

  Ruthie came back into the office. She looked like she had been crying. She stood on Vernon’s right side with her hands, one over top the other, placed on her heart. Vernon bobbled his head to the right and looked at the empty space next to him as if he could feel that something or someone was there.

  Many times during layouts at Eternal Slumber, family members would make the comment that they could feel their loved one there, but was Vernon that “close” to Ruthie to be able to feel her?

  “Does he have any suspects?”

  “I don’t think so, at least I haven’t heard of any. But I can’t wait to see what you find out.” I didn’t let him know about the bruise or anything else that Ruthie told me. If he was a good coroner, he’d see it for himself. “I’ve got to go to the council meeting. I’ll see you later.”

  I stuck my notebook in my purse. Vernon followed me out of the office and I locked it behind us.

  “Vernon?” I stopped him from going back to the basement to work on Ruthie. I didn’t want to pry, but I needed to know why Ruthie was so touched by seeing him and why her death was clearly affecting him the way it was.

  “How well did you know Ruthie?”

  The wrinkles around his eyes softened, almost dewy. “We had some social gathering, if you know what I mean.” His brows lifted. “We old fogeys have to stick together.”

  Vernon walked me to the front door. Along the way I fluffed the floor-­to-­ceiling drapes that hung from the hallway of wooden encased windows, so they would bellow out on the bottom.

  Eternal Slumber once was a beautiful old home, which Granny had restored.

  “I’ll let you know.” Vernon held the door handle. “It could take weeks for some of the tests he’s ordered to come back.”

  Ruthie stood between us. I tilted my head to the side so I could look at Vernon. Contrary to popular belief, ghosts weren’t see-­through. At least not Ruthie’s.

  “Weeks?” Ruthie stood outside when I opened the door to leave. “It’s freezing in that cooler. Especially in this.” She lifted up the edge of her pajama shirt.

  “Thanks, Vernon.” You’d think I was getting better at having two conversations, but I wasn’t.

  I heard him lock it when I made it to the other side. Normally we didn’t bother locking the funeral-­home door during the day, but with a killer on the loose . . . no one was safe.

  “We don’t have weeks, Emma Lee.” Ruthie was already sitting in the passenger seat of the hearse when I got in.

  “We will talk later,” I mumbled under my breath. Unfortunately, there was nothing I was able to do. A warrant was a warrant. Ruthie’s body was in the hands of the law. “I’m on my way to the courthouse for the council meeting. Maybe the guy that was talking to the mayor at your layout will give us some insight to why someone might want to murder you with the proposal he is going to present at the meeting.”

  Ruthie didn’t like my answer. Her arms were crossed, her face was stern and her eyes bored into me.

  Chapter 10

  There was silence as I drove slowly down the street in front of the courthouse to find a parking spot big enough for the hearse, but all the spots along the street were filled. Finally, I had to settle on a spot a ­couple of streets over. It would have been much easier to walk from Eternal Slumber, but I didn’t know that everyone in the town was coming out to the meeting. Generally, no one showed up at these things.

  I walked faster when I heard the courthouse clock chime five o’clock. My curiosity was killing me and I wanted to get a good seat, but by the looks of things, it was going to be standing room only.

&nbs
p; I was right. The meeting room was filled to the gills. I inched my way to the back left corner.

  I didn’t see Ruthie, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t lingering around somewhere. In fact, I was sure she’d show up. Even though she was a ghost, she was just as nosy in the afterlife as she was in the living life.

  Rolling up on my tiptoes, I could see Granny in the front row, along with a few other business owners, and Hettie.

  Why were Granny and Hettie there? Who was at the inn? Not that Granny had to tell me her agenda, but she always did. Why was today any different?

  Bang, bang, bang. Mayor May brought the gavel up and down. The sleeveless dress showed off her toned, tanned arms. Every woman in the room looked envious. Mayor May had no underarm skin flapping going on what-­so-­ever.

  The mayor gave a little wink and wave to ­people greeting her.

  I covered my mouth as I saw Ruthie appear behind the mayor and mock her every move. Ruthie had the wink and wave down to a tee.

  “Did I tell you that she had been ignoring me up until my layout?” Ruthie yelled over the crowd.

  I pretended not to hear or see Ruthie, but she did do a good impression of the mayor, which brought a smile to my face.

  “I’m bringing Sleepy Hollow council meeting to order.” Mayor May smiled, Ruthie smiled, standing at the podium with the gavel haphazardly dangling from the tips of her bright red fingernails.

  There should be a law against a mayor who was so pretty. Her fashion sense was the envy of every woman in Sleepy Hollow, including me. It was rumored that she had a stylist from Lexington that she secretly went to once a month.

  Her red knee length dress fit her as if it was made just for her, giving a hint of her lean legs, which ended in five-­inch heels.

  “We are going to go over our regular agenda.” The Mayor sashayed her way back to her seat, where she had the biggest name plate on the council. Never once did she bobble on those heels. Before sitting down, she said, “Then we will open the floor to any public discussions.”

  She ordered the treasurer to go over the budget, which took about ten minutes, followed by event planning and the usual items.

  “Thank you.” Mayor May nodded, Ruthie nodded, to the council members as each of them gave their monthly report. “Let’s open up the floor to any business the community feels needs to be addressed.”

  “I’d like to address the good ­people of Sleepy Hollow.” The gentleman from Ruthie’s layout stood up and buttoned the middle button on his black suit coat.

  “Please come forward.” Mayor May pointed her gavel toward the podium at the front of the room. “You need to state your name clearly for the secretary.”

  Ruthie rushed next to the man’s side.

  The man followed her orders. He put his papers on the podium and adjusted the microphone. I dug into my purse and pulled out my notebook and pencil.

  Ruthie read the papers over the man’s shoulder and then looked up at me. It looked as if Ruthie’s ghost had seen a ghost. She shook her head.

  “I told them no, Emma Lee!” She shouted and pointed to the mayor and the other council members.

  No, what?

  “Scott Michaels.” He spoke into the microphone and tilted his head toward the secretary. She was too busy to look at him as she continued to take the minutes from the meeting. “I’m with Grover and Grover Developers.”

  Developers? Suddenly I remembered Scott Michaels standing across the street from the inn with his fancy camera. Oh no!

  I glanced over at Granny. She was sitting on the edge of her chair with her ankles crossed and hands planted firmly in her lap like a good Southern woman.

  Was this why Granny updated the inn with more modern furniture? Did Granny know about this all along?

  I jotted down everything Scott Michaels was saying. He went on and on about how building a five-­star hotel would bring more tourists to Sleepy Hollow and the perfect spot was where Sleepy Hollow Inn was located because of the extra land and the easy route to the caves.

  He had all sorts of papers with land plots, designs and a new logo for Sleepy Hollow. Things I didn’t understand were in there.

  “This is why she wouldn’t see me when I went to talk to her.” Ruthie stood nose to nose with Mayor May. “She went behind my back and made Zula a deal!”

  Ruthie was on the verge of losing it. There was no way Granny would ever give up the inn to a big-­time hotel chain. She loved Earl and the inn he gave her. She loved being there among the tourists and cooking for them. Granny loved to be known as the town’s best hostess. She did it in the funeral business, she did it at the inn.

  “We are in the early stages of talks with Mrs. Payne.” He gestured toward Granny. Slightly she turned in her seat and nodded to the residents.

  My mouth dropped. I couldn’t believe my eyes. Had Granny known about this all along?

  “I don’t agree with this!” Hettie Bell jumped to her feet and stood up and pointed her finger directly at Granny. “Ruthie Sue Payne did not agree with this and now that she’s dead, you think you can just sell the inn?”

  Ruthie made her way over to Hettie and clapped her hands, giving Hettie a standing ovation. Her jewelry jangled louder and louder with each clap.

  “That’s right, Hettie Bell. You tell them,” Ruthie said.

  Too bad Hettie couldn’t hear her or even the crowd that was getting rowdy.

  Bang, bang, bang!

  “Order!” Mayor May slammed the gavel so hard, the echo rang in my ears. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave, Ms. Bell, if you are not able to control yourself and act like a lady.”

  “What can we do as a community if we don’t want a big hotel coming in here and destroying everything Sleepy Hollow stands for?” Hettie protested. If I didn’t know better, I’d think Hettie had more at stake in Sleepy Hollow. But what? Why was so she concerned about what Sleepy Hollow stood for? She wasn’t even from here.

  There were a few more comments and concerns from the collective group.

  “You can draw up a petition and have at least seventy-­five percent of the community against the proposed hotel.” Mayor May flipped her day planner and ran her finger down a page. “The petition needs to be filed in two days.”

  “Two days?” Hettie questioned. “That doesn’t give me time to really make a campaign. Do you know anything about this Grover and Grover? Did any other company make offers? How do you know there isn’t another site in Sleepy Hollow to develop?”

  Hettie made some good points. I jotted each of them down.

  “That’s enough!” Mayor May stood up. Her eyes narrowed as much as her skirt. “Two days, Ms. Bell.”

  The crowd rumbled.

  Bang, bang, bang.

  Mayor May yelled above the chatter, “We will convene in two days to discuss any further plans with the development. Mr. Michaels is going to post the plans in the hallway for you to make a decision for yourself. If you want to sign a petition after you see the plans, find Ms. Bell.” She smacked the gavel down. “This meeting is adjourned.”

  Everyone filed out one by one. I slipped outside without anyone seeing me.

  “I can’t believe you could do that to Ruthie when you knew she told the mayor she didn’t want to sell.” I couldn’t see Hettie, but I could hear her.

  I peeked around the side of the courthouse to see who she was yelling at. The shadow of the sinking sun hid my prying eyes.

  “You know nothing about this,” Granny hissed back at Hettie like a snake. “You are fired!”

  Granny held her head up, straightened her back and walked down the sidewalk toward the inn.

  “You know what,” Hettie yelled after Granny, “I quit! It gives me more time to get a petition signed and stop this nonsense!”

  “That, you need to check out.” Suddenly, Ruthie stood behind me. Her ey
es were as big as saucers.

  Chapter 11

  There was no way I was going to go and see Granny after all the commotion from the council meeting. She was fit to be tied as she stomped her way back to the inn after Hettie yelled back at her. Granny was too classy to even give Hettie a second glance, but I knew she was plotting her sweet revenge. And going to see her at this moment would only put me on her bad side, which was someplace I didn’t want to be.

  I needed to be on her good side so she would tell me the truth behind her rendezvous at midnight with Doc Clyde and her little conversations with the developer.

  Stopping by Higher Grounds Café to enjoy a fresh cup of coffee might take just enough time and space from the meeting for me to go pay her a visit.

  Anyway, it was almost six o’clock and Granny would have her hands too full at the inn with the supper crowd to be bothered with me.

  The line was out the door and down the sidewalk at Higher Grounds. Walking past, I couldn’t help but overhear a few hushed whispers about the meeting and the big news of a new developer in town. I made my way to the end of the line.

  Hmm . . . maybe I could get some information that I didn’t have if I went in, sat at the counter having one cup of coffee while “minding my own business,” but keeping my ear close to the ground just in case.

  “Shooo wee, I heard there was a little ruckus over at the council meeting tonight.” Cheryl Lynne Doyle grabbed my arm. She pulled me out of the crowd and into the café. “I’ve got a table of one, just for you.” She patted my arm in an empathetic way.

  I wasn’t sure if that was a dig to my single status, but I went anyway. Cheryl Lynne and I grew up together in Sleepy Hollow. It wasn’t until high school that Cheryl Lynne blossomed and suddenly got very popular, leaving me in the dust, and I didn’t mean cremation dust . . . social dust.

  All the guys loved how Cheryl Lynne’s Southern drawl was just that . . . drawn out. It was even prettier coming out of those perky red lips of hers. Cheryl Lynne was far from stupid even though she was the perfect stereotype of a blonde: petite, ample breasts and a perfect size six, without a single blemish . . . ever!