Ghost Blusters: Funny Cozy Mystery (Witch Woods Funeral Home Book 5)

by Morgana Best

  Averting their eyes from Jezza-Belle who was still giving Ian a lap dance, the three ladies formed a huddle. “I wonder what let it in?” Martha said.

  “Perhaps Thelma watched a horror movie,” Doris said thoughtfully.

  Francis shook her head. “There was a documentary on ancient Egyptian history,” she said. “It was on the night before last. Perhaps Thelma watched that, with all those pagan gods in it.”

  Martha and Doris nodded sagely. “That would do it,” Doris said.

  I looked back at Jezza-Belle to see she was removing her clothes. I ran over to her and grabbed her arm, pulling her off Ian. “Perhaps you ladies should take Ian away and pray for him,” I said, figuring that would do the trick. “I need to have a stern word with my mother.”

  “Good idea, Laurel.” Francis nodded in approval.

  Doris patted Ian’s cheeks until he revived, although he nearly fainted again when he caught sight of Jezza-Belle. The ladies hurried him out, praying for him all the way. I dragged a protesting Jezza-Belle into my office and locked the door behind us. I pointed to one of the office chairs. “Sit!”

  Jezza-Belle shot me a petulant look, but did as she was told. “This was hardly part of our deal,” I said in a stern tone, gesturing up and down her.

  She opened her eyes wide. “What you mean?”

  “Don’t play innocent with me,” I said, annoyed. “You very well know that when you leave my mother’s body and cross over, she will be left with your hairstyle. That’s hardly fair.” As an afterthought, I said, “At least you didn’t get a tattoo.”

  Jezza-Belle shifted uneasily in her seat.

  “You got a tattoo, didn’t you?”

  “Only one,” she said, crossing her arms.

  I gasped. “You didn’t! Where is it?”

  “Somewhere only your mother will see,” she said with a giggle.

  I walked behind my desk, sat in my chair, and put my head in my hands. “Tell me you’re not serious.”

  “I’m not serious.”

  I brightened up. “Really?”

  She smirked at me. “No. I got a tattoo. It was only one, though.”

  I was angry now. I thought about asking her what it was, but thought that would only stress me even more. “Look here, I agreed to help you, and now you’ve left a tattoo on my mother. Surely you know she thinks tattoos are of the devil.”

  Jezza-Belle was still smirking. “Yes, which is precisely why I did it.”

  I stood up and folded my arms. “Now see here, Jezza-Belle, if I’m to find out who murdered you, then you have to act and dress like my mother.” She made to protest, but I held up my hand. “Deal?”

  Jezza-Belle frowned at me; at least I thought she did behind those huge sunglasses. “You know, I don’t need your help. I could investigate by myself.”

  I waved one hand at her. “Sure, go ahead, but I’ll have you know that my best friend Tara is a witch, and so is my boyfriend, Basil. I’m sure they know a way to get you out of my mother.” I was lying, of course, but she didn’t know that.

  It seemed to do the trick. “Okay, we have a deal.”

  I waved my finger at her. “Not so fast. We have to set boundaries.”

  “You’re treating me like a child.” Jezza-Belle shot me a petulant look.

  “Well, if you act like a child, then you’ll be treated like a child.” I groaned and sat back in my seat. “Horrors, I’m turning into my mother.” To Jezza-Belle, I said, “These are the boundaries. I will do my very best to find out who murdered you as soon as possible, and you do your very best to act exactly like my mother. You have to wear her clothes, and speak like she does and generally act like her.”

  Jezza-Belle looked quite put out. “Okay,” she finally said. “On the other hand, it might be nice to stay in your mother just for fun.” I was about to say something, when she shook her head. “No, it’s weird being in your mother. I keep feeling all her disapproval and I can almost hear her lecturing me. It’s quite horrible, actually. Okay, I’ll do my best.”

  I was hugely relieved. “I’ll take you over to her house now and find you some clothes. I don’t know what to do about your hair.”

  “The red is only a spray-on colour,” she offered happily. “It will wash out.”

  “Well, the style won’t wash out, will it!” I said, irritated. “You’ll have to wear one of her hats.”

  Jezza-Belle shuddered.

  “And don’t go to her church, or speak to any of her friends, and don’t answer the door to anyone.” I unlocked the office door, and beckoned for Jezza-Belle to follow me. “Keep a low profile.”

  “I’ll be awfully bored.”

  I thought for a moment. My mother did have Foxtel, but it was only the Christian channel. “You can watch Netflix all day, and eat. That should be relaxing.”

  Jezza-Belle let out a string of foul language.

  I turned to her. “My mother doesn’t swear, and you just agreed to act like my mother.”

  “Oh dear, I am so dreadfully sorry,” she said in a good imitation of my mother’s pious tone, so much so that I had to laugh.

  “That’s good.” We had reached Mum’s house, and I unlocked the door. “Don’t answer her phone, no matter what, and don’t call any of your friends, as they know you’re dead. It won’t be so boring because I’ll check back in and tell you all the information I’ve found out. Now, let’s get you some horrible clothes.”

  An hour later, I had managed to wrangle Jezza-Belle into a black skirt, sensible black shoes, and a long-sleeved white shirt. Jezza-Belle had washed the red out of her hair, and I had forced her to wear one of Mum’s hats.

  “I don’t have to wear her perfume, do I?” Jezza-Belle asked in horror.

  “Of course not, not if you don’t want to,” I said, “but I don’t think her perfume is all that bad. You don’t like the scent?”

  “It’s the names.” Jezza-Belle held out a bottle.

  I read the label: Sobriety. “I assume that one’s alcohol-free.” I laughed at my own joke. I had never looked at Mum’s perfume bottles before. Where would she even buy perfume like this? I looked at the other perfume labels. Charity. Piety. Patience. Chastity.

  I was sitting on Mum’s bed, waiting for Jezza-Belle to check out her look in the bathroom mirror, when I heard a bloodcurdling scream.

  Chapter 6

  I ran to the bathroom and flung open the door. “What happened?”

  Jezza-Belle, speechless, pointed to the mirror. I couldn’t see the problem, so I asked again, “What happened?”

  “I look terrible,” she said in an anguished tone.

  I had to agree. “But that’s the look we’re going for,” I said. “Now let’s go downstairs and we’ll talk about the suspects.” Just then my text tone sounded. It was Basil. Where are you?

  I texted back, At Mum’s.

  I waited for a text back, but there wasn’t one, although someone rang the front doorbell. “I think it’s Basil,” I said to Jezza-Belle. “Sit in the living room, and if it’s anyone other than Basil, try to act like my mother. Better still, try not to speak at all.”

  It felt strange being in my mother’s house when she was not around. Of course her body was around, but with Jezza-Belle, the whole place took on a different vibe.

  I opened the door to see it was Basil. He held two cups of coffee, and there was a brown bag squeezed underneath his arm. “Sustenance,” he announced, holding up the polystyrene cups. “I thought you might need this.”

  I closed the door behind me. “Let’s go around the back,” I told him, “and sit in the garden. I need a break from you know who.”

  “The rock star who possessed your mother?”

  “That’s the one.”

  We went around back. I sat on the warm stone bench while Basil stirred sugar into my coffee. It was pleasant just to sit here next to him, watching the sunlight catch the gold in his hair. I almost wanted to reach out and tug on a strand, but I didn’t know if that wo
uld be weird. We hadn’t been together too long, and I didn’t know what to do with my hands when Basil was around. Thank goodness I could nurse the coffee.

  I took a bite of the bagel. “So what brings you here?” I asked.

  “Just checking in,” he replied. “I’m here for moral support.”

  He set his coffee down beside us, and then he placed an arm around my shoulder. He smelt amazing, like clean laundry, but he also had that natural Basil scent that made me want to curl my toes and scrunch up my nose. I leant into his shoulder and sighed. I wanted to kiss him then, only I didn’t know how. I pressed my fingers into the warmth of his chest and we leant on each other, our heads together.

  “Thank you for stopping by,” I whispered.

  “Of course,” he whispered back.

  He cupped my face with his large hands and pressed his lips to mine. When we kissed, my stomach exploded with butterflies. I sat back and took a sip of my coffee, my cheeks burning. We’d kissed before of course, but I wasn’t expecting how girlish I would feel when Basil kissed me in the warm light of day.

  I pulled away from Basil when someone cleared their throat loudly. I turned around to see Jezza-Belle looking at me. “For a moment, I forgot you were here,” I said to her.

  Jezza-Belle let out a grunt of disapproval. “I figured that. You know, I’m feeling quite sad now.”

  “Because you’re dead?” I asked her. It was probably not the most tactful thing to say, but then again, there was no getting around the fact.

  She shook her head. “No, because I just realised I’d never kiss anyone again.” She looked Basil up and down, and then added, “Unless of course, you’d like to lend me your boyfriend for a moment.”

  Basil stood behind me. “Eew.”

  “Keep your hands off him,” I said. “Anyway, who knows what happens on the other side? There could be lots of kissing.”

  Jezza-Belle appeared to be thinking over my words. I turned to Basil. “You missed out on a lot of fun. Jezza-Belle here discharged herself from the hospital, and then bought some interesting and quite scant clothing, and got a haircut.”

  With that, Jezza-Belle pulled off her hat, and Basil gasped. “It was bright red before, and standing up high,” I told him. “This is an improvement, believe me. And that’s not all; Mum’s stuck up friends came around with Ian, and…”

  Basil interrupted me. “Did they see her like that?”

  “They sure did! And she gave Ian a lap dance.”

  “You’re kidding!”

  I made a face. “No, sad to say. Anyway, let’s go back inside and get to work solving this case. The sooner we solve the case, the sooner Jezza-Belle stops possessing my mother and we will have Mum back.”

  Basil did not appear the least encouraged by my words. “It’s sort of a choice between two evils, isn’t it?” he said.

  I grimaced and held the door open for them. “So true. Anyway, I’ll get some pen and paper, and we can make some notes.”

  “I’ll order pizza. Jezza-Belle, what sort of pizza would you like?”

  Soon, the three of us were sitting around Mum’s dining table eating pizza, the heavenly aroma wafting through the room. I took a large bite and then looked at the list in front of me. “So, the lesser suspects are Lotti, Delilah, and Harper. Your hacker clients are Daisy Fairchild, her husband Donnie, and Phil Palmer. Well, Donnie was a wannabe client, but you know what I mean.”

  Basil stroked his chin. “Don’t write off Harper Harris so easily. Gambling is a serious problem. I’m sure people have been murdered over less.”

  I expected Jezza-Belle to jump to his defence, but she didn’t. “He did owe me over two hundred thousand dollars.”

  I gasped. “I didn’t realise it was so much!”

  Basil ate another slice of pizza before speaking. “My money’s on this Harper guy. I think we need to look into him first, Laurel.”

  “How was your relationship with your boyfriend?” I asked Jezza-Belle.

  She shrugged. “Well, he wasn’t the love of my life or anything like that. We were just having a good time, you know what I mean?”

  “But surely your relationship was solid. After all, you lent him so much money,” I pointed out.

  She shrugged again. “Yes, we did have a solid relationship, but I didn’t expect it to be one that would last forever.”

  I was a little confused by that, but let it go. “Can you think of anyone else, anyone at all? Think hard before answering. Is there anyone else you can think of who might have wanted to kill you? Surely you had other hacker clients.”

  Jezza-Belle took some time before answering. “I can’t think of anyone else at all. The other hacker clients I had were mostly people who wanted me to fake their résumés, you know, hack into a database and add that they’d worked for some big firm. And then there were some people who wanted me to hack into their academic record at a university and make it better, that type of thing.”

  “Maybe we should make a list of all these people and go through them one by one,” Basil said.

  I tapped my chin. “I’m not so sure. Were any of these recent, Jezza-Belle?”

  She shook her head. “The only two clients I’ve had anything to do with recently are Phil Palmer and Daisy Fairchild.”

  “Then I agree with you, Laurel,” Basil said. “The easier solution is usually the correct one. We’ll need to speak to the other members of the band, and Jezza-Belle’s boyfriend, as well as these two clients.”

  “Good idea.” I remembered my phone conversation with my best friend, Tara, that morning. Her husband, Duncan, was a police sergeant in town. “I forgot to tell you—Duncan told Tara that the police haven’t made any headway. They’re focusing on the boyfriend and the band members.”

  “But if it’s one of the hacker clients, how will the police find out about them?” Jezza-Belle asked, clearly agitated.

  “We can make an anonymous phone call,” Basil said, “and then…”

  Basil was interrupted by the sound of the front door bell. We exchanged glances. Basil crossed to the window to peek around the curtains. “It’s Pastor Green,” he said in horror.

  “Let’s pretend no one’s home,” I said hopefully.

  Basil shook his head. “My car’s parked out front. He’ll know I’m here.”

  “Jezza-Belle, act just like my Mum,” I said urgently. “Act very polite and very religious.”

  “I don’t know how to act religious,” Jezza-Belle said.

  “Did you ever go to Sunday School when you were young?” I asked her in despair.

  She nodded. “Yes, when I was five or so.”

  “Don’t you remember anything from Sunday School, anything at all?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Not really. I can’t remember much about it at all. I only remember those little songs we used to sing.”

  Basil nodded, and walked towards the front door. “Just go with that,” I said urgently.

  Basil showed Pastor Green into the living room, and he made a beeline for Jezza-Belle. “Thelma, how are you doing?” he asked with concern.

  Jezza-Belle shrugged, and I gave her a look of approval.

  “Goodness gracious me, Thelma! Did they have to shave your head?”

  Jezza-Belle nodded.

  “Yes, just to make sure she didn’t have concussion, but she doesn’t,” I said.

  Thankfully, he didn’t appear to know that I was lying. “Thelma, have they changed your medication? Did they find out what was wrong? Everyone in the church is praying for you.”

  “Jesus loves the little children, all the children of the world,” Jezza-Belle said nervously.

  Pastor Green shot an anxious look at me over his shoulder. He turned back to Jezza-Belle. “Quite so, quite so. Are you sure you’re all right?”

  Jezza-Belle nodded. “This train don’t carry no liars; truth is what the Lord desires.”

  I sighed inwardly. I didn’t want Jezza-Belle to recite classic Sunday School songs. I just wa
nted her to use them for inspiration. Maybe I should have pointed that out.

  “Is something wrong with your eyes?” Pastor Green asked Jezza-Belle.

  It was then I noticed she was still wearing the huge sunglasses. I had become so used to them that I hadn’t asked her to take them off.

  “O be careful little eyes what you see,” Jezza-Belle said. “There’s a Father up above and He’s looking down in love. So, be careful little eyes what you see.”

  “Mum’s not quite herself yet,” I said, and that was the truth. “It’s going to take some time.” I debated whether I should offer Pastor Green some coffee. That would have been the usual thing to do, but I wanted to get him away from Jezza-Belle as soon as possible.

  Pastor Green’s worried expression had not left his face. “I had better go, but please call me if you need any help, Laurel. I’m going back to prepare my sermon on Zacchaeus.”

  “Zacchaeus was a wee, little man,” Jezza-Belle piped up, “and a wee, little man was he. He climbed up in a sycamore tree, for the Lord he wanted to see.”

  I hurried to the pastor’s side and took him by the arm. “Thanks so much for coming to visit Mum,” I said. “I’d love you to stay for coffee and cake, but I’m trying to keep her quiet.”

  He patted my shoulder and looked down at me sadly. “I understand.”

  I opened the door, and shut it behind him the nanosecond he passed through. I locked and bolted it and hurried back into the living room. “I didn’t say to recite Sunday School songs,” I said crossly.

  Jezza-Belle looked affronted, but I didn’t know whether her manner was genuine or not. “I was doing my best,” she said in a plaintive tone.

  I decided to give her the benefit of the doubt. I turned to Basil. “Who should we investigate first? Do you still want to investigate Harper Harris?”

  Just then, my phone vibrated in my pocket. It was Tara.

  “Laurel, I thought you’d like to know. Lotti Lovelace has just been charged with assault on Harper Harris.”

  Chapter 7

  I relayed Tara’s words to Basil and Jezza-Belle. “I’m meeting Tara at a coffee shop now to get the low-down on the assault arrest.”