A Ghostly Grave (7 page)

 

Chapter 9

T
here wasn't much more spying I was going to be able to do on Marla Maria since the media was there and she had my Jack over there to protect her, which made me somewhat jealous. Figuring out how to get the agreement was on my mind, but since my stomach was growling so loud it could wake the dead, I decided to venture over to the square. The Cattlemen's Association burgers didn't sound so bad after all.

I made sure the doors to Eternal Slumber were locked up tight before I walked across the street. The quartet was in harmony heaven with the sweet sounds echoing all through the hollow, and most of the town was gathered around the gazebo, eating and drinking.

“Zula for mayor!” The group of Auxiliary women marched in a circle raising signs in the air with Granny leading the pack. “Zula for mayor!”

I dodged them and headed straight for the burger stand. The last thing I wanted to do was hold a sign up all night and that was what would happen if Granny saw me. She would expect me to do the right thing and get the word out.

I could hear her now—­
Emma Lee, we are family. Family sticks by one another
—­while she stuck a sign in my face.

“There's no stopping her.” Hettie Bell walked up and nudged me when I was in line. She had on her capri pants and light blue button-­down, topped off with her white high-­top Converse tennis shoes.

“You aren't helping matters.” I shook my head and looked down at my boring jeans, black T-­shirt and Sperry Top-­Siders.

“Me?” Hettie pulled back. “What did I do?”

“All that positive energy you claim she's getting and all the peaceful-­breathing crap don't help.” I pretended to do some sort of yoga pose, which I was not good at. “I like Granny's Southern ways without the calming crap added in. She looks crazy running around town doing the downward dog in every line she's in.”

“She was doing some crazy stretch when she was in line at Artie's Deli and Meats earlier when I was there picking up supplies for our camping trip,” the person in front of us turned around and said. “Nice town by the way. Looking forward to exploring the caves.”

“See?” I pointed to the stranger. “They don't even live here and noticed her.”

“She's fine.” Hettie tried to assure me. She knew just as much as I did, that when Granny did something she went full force. Yoga included. “Maybe I can tone it down a bit.”

“A bit?” I questioned. “A lot, please.” I rolled my eyes.

I didn't mind Granny getting into shape with yoga, but all the mumbo jumbo
n
amaste
junk was going a little overboard.

“Truce?” Hettie put her hand out.

“Truce.” I took it and shook. “But I want you to come to the Watering Hole with me tonight.”

“Eww.” Her button nose curled. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She fidgeted. “That place is nasty. Why on earth would you want to go there?”

“I need to go see what it's all about.” I took a step forward. I was next in line. “Let's just say it's for research.”

“Research?” Hettie's eyes narrowed. A smile crossed her face. “Does this have anything to do with why they dug up that man?”

“I said research.” There was no way I was going to tell Hettie what was going on. Like I said, I barely knew her since she was new in town, but there were possibilities of a friendship. Well, depending on if she went to the Watering Hole with me, which would be a total “friend” thing. “Are you going to go with me?”

“You buying?” she asked.

“Sure.” I agreed, but didn't even think about how much that was going to cost me. If I had anything to do with it, I was hoping Sugar was going to be there. At least that was where Chicken had said Sugar liked to hang out, and with a little liquor in him, I was sure it would give him some loose lips. It would be very interesting to hear his version of the marriage of Chicken, Marla Maria and Lady Cluckington.

After I ordered my burger, I told Hettie Bell I would grab a picnic table near the little Higher Grounds Café booth. It was still in eyeshot of Granny, but far enough away so Granny wouldn't be able to distinguish me from all the other people.

“She sure is serious about becoming mayor.” Cheryl Lynn had a blinking button on her shirt. The on and off lights spelled ZULA in red dots. She put a cup of coffee in front of me. “You are going to need a lot of this to keep up.”

“Yes you are.” Mary Anna Hardy came up from behind us. She had on her best Marilyn Monroe look—­the flirty little white dress, high heels, boobs propped up to her chin and bright red lips all completed by her bleached-­blond hair teased to heaven. Higher the hair, higher to God, was Mary Anna's motto. She set her plate of barbecue on the table and quickly raked her hands through her blond hair, making it even bigger. “Zula is not going to let O'Dell Burns take the position.”

“You could probably take him out for her using your shoes,” I teased and took a big ol' bite out of my burger, which was not to be compared to Bella Vino's. If I squeezed my eyes really tight, I felt like I was there.

“She sure could use them. She'd get the job done.” Mary Anna winked. “You know my Marilyn always says”—­she did the sign of the cross before she paid tribute to her icon—­“Give a girl the right pair of shoes and she will conquer the world. No doubt in my mind that Zula could rule the world and more if she put on these shoes.”

“Don't give her the chance,” I warned Mary Anna. “Say, I need to come in and get a trim.”

“You sure do.” Her eyes moved around my head. She plunged her fingers deep in my brown hair. “You are getting a tad bit mousey.”

I jerked away. Jack Henry's fingers were the only fingers I wanted in my hair.

“Thanks,” I grumbled underneath my breath and took another bite of my burger. I really didn't want to get my hair done, but I needed to get in the chair to hear all the ramblings of Chicken and Marla Maria.

“I've got an opening tomorrow.” She couldn't resist sticking her fingers back in my hair. “You need a brow wax too.”

“You ready?” I eyed Hettie Bell when she walked up.

“After I finish my burger.” Her eyes narrowed.

Before she could sit down between Mary Anna and Cheryl Lynne, I jumped up and grabbed her by the elbow.

“Take it with you.” I smiled at the girls. “See y'all tomorrow.”

“What was that about?” Hettie jerked away once we were out of sight and across the street on the sidewalk in front of Eternal Slumber.

“Mary Anna was all in my hair and made me an appointment with her tomorrow.” I walked up the steps with Hettie following. I unlocked the door and pushed it open.

“You could use a little touch-­up.” Hettie Bell's eyes focused on my outgrown highlights.

“Shut up.” I stepped inside the vestibule. I had to get my keys to the hearse. “Come on.” I held the door open for her and flicked on the lights.

“Nope.” She shook her head.

“Nope what?”

“I'm not going in there.” She pointed to the inside of the funeral home. “Dead people are in there.”

“What do you think they are going to do? Talk to you?” I kind of laughed but secretly wished she was a Betweener and knew my pain.

“I'll stand right here and eat my burger.” She held it up in front of her.

“Fine. I'll grab my keys and be right back.” I shut the door behind me. I had no idea why people were always so scared of a funeral home. Granted, I had been around it all my life, and before I was a Betweener, I still didn't understand it.

The dead were the last thing anyone had to be afraid of. Now that I was a Betweener, I saw firsthand that ghosts didn't haunt you. They wanted to get on with their afterlife just as much as the living wanted to get on with their lives.

“Charlotte?” I called out when I heard the back door close. The back door was the employee entrance, which was next to my little apartment. Granted, it was more of an efficiency, complete with a bedroom, kitchenette, bathroom and small television room. It was plenty enough for me. Just the perfect size for cuddling with Jack Henry.

I walked to the back to see why Charlotte was here. After I told her about Granny losing her keys, Charlotte decided to go home early to beat the crowd that was expected for the opening ceremony in the square, but I knew her all too well. I was sure the news of the lost keys sent Charlotte Rae straight to bed.

“Charlotte?” The back door was standing wide open. I grabbed my cell from my pocket and called Jack Henry. “I think someone has broken into the funeral home.”

“What?” Jack sounded confused. I could hear Marla Maria cackling in the background. “Who?”

“Is that your little funeral girl?” I heard Marla giggle a little too close to the phone.

“Jack Henry, why are you in Marla's double-­wide?” There was a sense of urgency in my voice as a jealous tick crept in my soul. “Don't you piss on my leg and tell me it's raining, Jack Henry Ross. You tell me why you aren't outside taking care of the
press
.”

Tears started to sting my eyes. Marla Maria might be older than us, but she sure was pretty. Not to mention a beauty queen. And a cougar.

“Is that little boy trying to hit on my Marla Maria?” Chicken Teater stood next to me in the back hallway winding up his arm again.

“No.” I shook my head. “I don't think so.”

“You don't think what?” Jack Henry asked in the phone.

“Nothing!” I pushed the
END
button. I didn't care if he came to my rescue. I was mad. Marla Maria was trying to dig her talons into my man. I turned to Chicken. “And you!” I pointed. “Where have you been? Were you here? Did you see who was in here? Did they touch your body?”

“Stop throwing your hissy fit. This isn't going to find out who killed me.” Chicken tried to calm me but my heart was racing a mile a minute.

“If it weren't for you, Jack Henry wouldn't be over there protecting your harlot!” I shouted and darted back down the hall to see if anything had been taken. “I have got to figure out what happened to you so Marla Maria can go rot in jail!”

There was no time to spare. Getting to the Watering Hole and gathering evidence was the next step and Hettie was still waiting out front.

Whoever was here couldn't get to the basement where Chicken's body was, because there were only three people who had an elevator key; Charlotte, Vernon, and me. We took that one away from Granny when we caught her doing makeup on a client, Bessie Sue Knoll, when she knew good and well Mary Anna was the cosmetologist of the funeral home. Granny didn't care.

Poor old Bessie Sue Knoll had laid there looking like she had fallen face forward in a clown's makeup bag.

“Keys.” I gasped and rushed into Charlotte's office. Her desk drawers had been pulled out and dumped all over the floor. “Granny's extra keys,” I groaned.

There was nothing I could do about it until tomorrow, because anyone who could change out the locks would be over at the square tonight. Plus the stores were closed and I wouldn't be able to get new locks anyway.

My office was still locked. I unlocked it and grabbed the hearse keys.

“Hettie.” I rushed to the porch. “Did you see anyone run away from the back?”

“No,” Hettie said. She was standing on the sidewalk talking to Mable Claire. There were so many people walking around, whoever broke in could blend in easily.

“Marla Maria didn't kill me.” Chicken stood next to me looking intently.

“Hold on.” I held up a finger and walked back inside. Chicken followed. “What do you mean she didn't kill you? She's my number-­one suspect.”

“Wasn't she just all over your little no good sheriff?” He put an image in my head that made my blood boil. “How could she be in two places at once?”

“You're right.” My eyes popped open. I bit the corner of my lip. Marla Maria couldn't have been the one to break into Eternal Slumber since Jack Henry was
protecting
her, but that didn't mean she didn't kill Chicken. Marla Maria had her hand in Chicken's death. I paced back and forth trying to recall all the clues. “Agreement, divorce, money—­half a million in real estate is the prize.” I shook my head. “None of this adds up.” I snapped my fingers. “John Deere guy!”

“Who?” Chicken followed close on my heels as I walked up and down the hall.

I stopped. Chicken nearly walked right through me.

“The guy with the John Deere hat.” I went back to my office, unlocked the door and flipped on the light. I went straight over to my little notebook and opened it. “Here. There was a guy hiding behind a tree while they were digging you up. Remember you told me to look away? Marla Maria
baby
.”

Chicken nodded, doing the one-­two punch in the air. “That little twit. I showed him.”

“Is he in cahoots with Marla Maria?” I started to jot down what I was thinking. “The whole media put a damper on her plan and she told that guy to come here and check out what we had figured out using the new forensic equipment.”

“I told you that boy was more slippery than snot on a doorknob.” Chicken smacked his hands together. “I bet he was the one who turned my Marla Maria against me and put all them ideas in her head.”

“Don't you worry, Chicken.” I looked up at him after I scratched a few more notes on my notepad. “I'm going to bring whoever murdered you to justice.”

“There ain't nothin' that can't be fixed with a glass of sweet tea.” Chicken licked his lips. “I sure wish I had me a big ol' glass.”

There was a burning fire in my gut. Not only was I going to put Marla Maria in jail for murder, I was also going to get her claws out of my man.

 

Chapter 10

H
ettie Bell talked and talked
and
talked about the yoga studio all the way to the edge of town where the Watering Hole met the county line. Sleepy Hollow was a dry county, which meant there was no alcohol sold or served at any of the establishments in town. But the next county wasn't and that was where the Watering Hole was strategically placed.

Jack Henry told me that when he joined the sheriff's department, they assigned him to what they called Watering Hole duty. He would sit in his cruiser every single Friday and Saturday night to catch many of the locals who would immediately head to the Watering Hole for a little weekend fun only to drink a little too much fun stuff. When they left, Jack Henry was there to pull them over, give them the Breathalyzer, and haul their drunk butts off to jail.

He said that most of the time, he would put the drunks in the cell for them to sober up and release them the next day.

“Do you think that is a good idea?” Hettie cocked her head to the side and stared at me intently. “Emma Lee, I don't think you were listening to a word I said.”

“I was.” I could see the old neon cowboy boot half lit up in the distance. It was an icon. In grade school everyone talked about the boot and for as long as I could remember, the lights on it were never all lit at once.

“Then what did I say?” Hettie jerked her head.

“You were telling me about your studio plans.” I lied but made it general enough for her to believe me. Clearly, my head wasn't into yoga, nor was my body.

Hettie crossed her arms and gave out a sigh. Evidently, my answer was enough to satisfy her.

I pulled into the gravel lot. There weren't too many cars. I scanned them looking for Sugar Wayne's but it wasn't there. A few motorcycles lined the front. I had heard there were a lot of riders who came here.

“Vroom, vroom.” Hettie giggled. “I might find me a Harley man and ride off into the sunset.”

“Let me know so I won't be waiting around,” I joked, and turned the hearse off. If Sugar Wayne wasn't there, I was wasting my time. My phone buzzed. “Jack.” I stuck it back in my pocket.

“You aren't going to answer?” Hettie's eyes grew big. There was never a time I didn't answer a phone call from Jack Henry.

“We are here to have fun!” I yelled and jumped out of the car. My idea of fun was talking to Sugar, hopefully a drunk Sugar, and help get more information on Marla Maria to pin her for Chicken's murder. Then the media would leave and she wouldn't need to be protected by Jack Henry Ross. “Fun,” I muttered under my breath before I clicked the key fob to lock the hearse up.

“There a dead body in there?” A lady had jumped off the back of a motorcycle. She had a cigarette tucked in the corner of her mouth that wiggled up and down as she talked. Her eyes squinted from the smoke swirling up around her face. My eyes couldn't get past the Harley shirt shredded on the ends, like she got stuck in a paper shredder, which exposed a large fat roll with stretch marks all over it.

“No.” I shook my head and walked past her.

“I'll be dammed!” the woman shouted, catching my attention. “Honey,” the woman pointed to me and then to the motorcycle that was pulling into the Watering Hole. The bike looked like a Christmas tree traveling on wheels, there were so many colored lights all over it. “I might kill him tonight so stick around. You might have you a new client.” She cackled, leading into such a deep cough I was sure she would fall over dead from not being able to catch her breath.

I almost asked her if she wanted to smoke another cigarette, but I figured being a smart-­ass in such an establishment wouldn't make me very popular, since smoke was rolling out of the door when Hettie and I walked in.

“Look how cute this is, Emma Lee!” Hettie Bell ran up to the bar and patted the bar stools, which were disguised as horse saddles.

I smiled and nodded. I was eerily aware that all eyes were on us, not to mention, our attire did not fit in at the Watering Hole. There were five or so men playing billiards on the far end of the small bar. There were only four tables with four chairs and the rest of the seating was along the bar.

“I'll have a cosmopolitan.” Hettie plopped her purse on the bar top.

“Y'ull have a what?” The bartender cocked his lip to the right, his mustache twitched a little. He firmly planted his hands on the bar top and leaned his body weight on them, leaning a little closer to Hettie.

“Umm . . .” Hettie nervously stalled, “whatever you have on tap is fine.”

“That's what I thought.” The man growled, grabbed a glass from the stack and flipped the beer tap, filling the glass to the rim. Hettie and I didn't say a word. He slammed the glass down in front of her. He looked at me. “What do you want?”

“The same is good for me.” I gestured to Hettie's drink and moved slightly away from the leather-­clad man who popped a squat on the horse saddle next to me. I had to breathe out of my mouth to avoid the smell of cologne the man must have bathed in before he decided to come to such a fine establishment. There was nothing like the smell of cologne and smoke mingled together with beer.

Without acknowledging me, the bartender poured the drink and slid it my way.

“He scares me.” Hettie tilted her head to watch the bartender go down to the end of the bar and take care of the Harley momma. The bartender poured her a whiskey shot and one for himself. They cheered and threw the shot back, coming up for a big laugh at the end.

“So does she,” I said about the Harley momma.

“You new around here, baby?” The man clinked his glass up against mine.

I pulled my glass closer to me and tried not to look at the man.

“You are that funeral girl.” He smacked the counter. I instantly knew who it was when I saw the gold ring.
Sugar.

“I am a funeral director.” I corrected him. Being called funeral girl got old real fast. “Do I know you?” I played dumb.

“Who is your little friend, Emma?” Amusement grew in Hettie's eyes. She threw a cocktail napkin across me and over to Sugar. “You have some black stuff dripping down the side of your face.”

“Damn. Damn. Damn.” Sugar grabbed the napkin and tried to get off the saddle, only his five-­foot frame was too short and he had to jump. He tumbled off, luckily landing on his feet. He rushed off.

“What the hell was that?” Hettie laughed.

“That is why we are here.” I picked up my beer and took a gulp. I was going to have to flirt with Sugar Wayne. I smiled when I looked over at Hettie. “Hettie, I need a big favor. I mean big.”

“What?” She sounded a little cautious.

I looked to see if Sugar was on his way back, because I had limited time to tell Hettie what she needed to do.

“I need you to flirt with this guy. Get him to drink a lot.” I unbuttoned a ­couple of her buttons. She jerked away.

“Have you lost your mind?” she yelped.

“No.” I rushed; Sugar was walking back. “Here, trade me.” I got up from my saddle and pushed her over to mine. “Please. It's about the exhumation of that body.”

“Shit, Emma Lee.” Hettie scooted her beer in front of her. “You okay, darlin'?” she asked Sugar.

He lit up like a firecracker.

“I'm good now.” He winked and leaned closer to Hettie before he took a deep inhale. “You sure do smell good. Is that . . .”

“Eau de toilette Bell.” Hettie swung her head, making her bob swing from side to side. I grinned, knowing she was referring to her own smell.

“That's it.” Sugar grinned. “That's that expensive stuff.”

“Ummhmm.” Hettie rolled her eyes and took a drink. “So what do you do?”

“Besides drive my big hog?” Sugar winked again. He gave me the creeps; I knew he had to be freaking out Hettie. “I'm Sugar Wayne, the big realtor in Lexington. Sweeten the deal with a little Sugar on it. Haven't you seen my commercials?”

“You are him?” Hettie's mouth dropped. Slowly she turned her head and glared at me. “I didn't know we were in the company of a celebrity. Did you, Emma Lee?”

“Yeah, funeral girl, you need to give me the respect I deserve.” Sugar leaned back in the saddle and looked at me behind Hettie's back. “Your lovely friend, and I mean
all
of her is lovely”—­his eyes went straight to the unbuttoned part of Hettie's button down—­“seems to know a man when she sees one.”

“Where?” Hettie yelped.

“Where's what, baby?” Sugar leaned back up against the counter.

“A man,” she muttered under her breath toward me. She threw her hand in the air. “I need another drink on him.” She pointed to Sugar. Reluctantly, Sugar nodded.

“Don't worry about Emma Lee.” Hettie elbowed Sugar. “She keeps to herself.”

“As long as she keeps away from me and my love for you.” Sugar laid it on thick. I started to feel a little bad for asking Hettie to flirt with him, but I had to have answers about his part of the agreement he had with Chicken. “It's been a bad day, baby.”

“He's up to his old tricks.” Chicken Teater appeared, standing between Hettie and Sugar with a big grin on his face. “The night I met Marla Maria he was hitting on her. Little did I realize she wanted a date with me. Ask him about the time I met Marla Maria.”

“So tell me.” I leaned on the bar using my elbows. “What were you doing at Chicken's place earlier?”

“How do you know Chicken?” Sugar questioned and downed the rest of the glass of beer. He smacked the counter. The bartender didn't skip a beat. He had a new glass of brew in front of Sugar in no time.

“He was a friend of my daddy's. Plus my Granny put him in the grave four years ago,” I said casually. “And I had to dig him back up today.”

Sugar shook his head. “You ought to be ashamed of yourself for digging up a good man from his resting place after all of these years.”

“You knew him well?” Hettie patted Sugar's hand, which was resting on the bar, with a look of disgust on her face.

Sugar took the gesture as if Hettie wanted to hold his hand. He grabbed hers and held it to his heart.

“Knew him?” His eyes glazed over. I couldn't tell if he was getting emotional because Hettie had given him some sort of hope or if he was upset thinking about Chicken. “I was his best friend. Why'd you go digging him up anyways?”

Hettie tried to tug her hand away when Sugar put it on his leg and put his on top, but he held tight.

“I do what I'm told and don't ask questions.” I couldn't help but smile when Hettie gave me the stink eye to help her out. “What did his wife say about all of that?”

“She said she didn't know why they dug him up. But the police don't go digging up graves unless they have good evidence.” Sugar smacked the bar again. The man could drink beer faster than anyone I had ever seen.

“I heard he was murdered,” the bartender said as he pulled the tap putting more beer in Sugar's glass. “At least that was what that fancy reporter said on his way back to Lexington when he stopped in here for a beer.”

“Really?” I asked, keeping the questions going.

“Seriously, why are you here?” Chicken stood behind the bar questioning my intentions while he checked out the drinks. “I sure do wish I had a sweet tea. Marla makes the best sweet tea; not that Zula Fae's isn't great, but mmm-­mmm, Marla Maria's is pretty good too.” Chicken's eyes looked into the air like he was remembering how great it was to be alive. “She loved to come to this old bar. I quit drinking, so she would bring me a jug of sweet tea to sip on while she drank her beers.”

I grinned. Memories are all we have and Chicken was living a special one that included Sugar.

“Chicken sat right here.” Sugar smacked Hettie's saddle. “That crazy wife of his sat where funeral girl is.”

“Emma Lee is my name. ‘Funeral girl' is getting a little old.” I huffed. “How would you like to be call realtor guy?”

“Add a little Sugar.” He kissed the air and blew it my way.

“Ugh.” I groaned. “I knew Chicken Teater because he was friends with my daddy. He didn't seem like he would hang out with you.”

“I don't know what that means, but Chicken and I did some business dealings years ago and became fast friends.” Sugar took a long drink from his glass. He could finish a glass of beer in two big gulps. The bartender set another drink in front of Sugar. My plan was working well. He even let go of Hettie's hand.

“Why were you at his house?” I questioned again, hoping he had forgotten the first time I asked him.

“Lady Cluckington.” Sugar took the last of his beer and chugged it. “Sweet Lady. Marla Maria is killing her just like she killed Chicken.”

“How so?” Hettie suddenly took a vested interest in what Sugar had to say. She leaned a little closer to Sugar, exposing her chest a little more, making eye candy for him.

“Chicken knew something was going to happen to him.” Sugar's eyes narrowed. “He made me promise the week before he died, and he wasn't a bit sick like them doctors in Lexington said he was.”

“Made you promise what?” Hettie coaxed him. All I had to do was sit back and listen.

“I promised him I would take great care of Lady and continue to show her at the pageants. One problem,” Sugar's eyes closed. He stopped talking. His head bobbled up and down.

“Now what?” Hettie asked me. “He's about to pass out.”

“I don't know.” I shrugged. “I have to have more. But I don't know what. Just encourage him.”

“Gross.” Hettie's face contorted. She let out a sigh before she took her hand and reached out to touch Sugar's painted-­on hair. “You okay, Sugar?”

“With you I'm doing great,” he muttered. Hettie grimaced and her nose curled.

“What do you think about Marla Maria?” she asked in a breathy voice.