A Ghostly Murder (12 page)

“Great.” I shrugged and turned back around.

The sound of a cabinet opening caught my attention. Then Pastor Brown's footsteps.

“Here are the checks from the other collection.” He handed me a stack of paper checks. “You will log the number on the check, who it's from, and the amount in this ledger.”

I opened the notebook. Mable Claire's handwriting was clear and neat. After I counted the sticky money and put it in the zipper deposit bag, I worked on the checks. It was going to take me forever to do these. I worried about how much time I was going to have to snoop.

“Yes.” I heard Pastor Brown talking to someone.

I bent back in the chair and looked through the open door he had disappeared through. He was sitting behind a desk, and the back of the chair was to the door. The phone cord left the receptionist-­type phone and tugged around the chair.

“I came in and Emma Lee Raines was counting the cash right here,” he let the other person know. “Yes. Emma Lee. Mable Claire wasn't able to come today, so Emma had volunteered yesterday after church to come in and count it.”

I smiled. I did kind of like him bragging on my volunteering until I figured out who it was he was talking to.

“Thanks, Jack Henry, for all your work. I must've not seen it in there. It's my fault.” Pastor Brown said a few more words and hung up.

Great. Now Jack Henry was going to be on my ass about the money. He was way too smart to think Pastor Brown had misplaced the money and it had just shown up.

Quickly I got to the last check.

“Junior Mullins?” I asked and looked at the check. It was written when Junior was still living.

“Of course I pay my little tithe to the church.” Junior appeared next to me, looking down at the check. “It might only be ten percent, but it's what the good book calls for.”

“Excuse me?” Pastor Brown walked out of the office.

“This check is from Junior Mullins.” I thought it was strange. “And for two thousand dollars?”

I gulped when I heard Junior say “ten percent.” Wasn't ten percent a lot? Considering Junior had one of the cheapest funeral packages and lived in the old folks home, I figured he was on a fixed income.

“Two thousand dollars.” Junior's face set. “Fine. I know it should've been three thousand, but I was afraid the home of the near dead was going to up my rent. Hell, I didn't know I was going to die.”

“Emma Lee?” Pastor Brown's hand waved in front of me. “I hope you know ­people's tithe to the Lord is a private matter and this information doesn't leave the office.” He took the check from my hand. “Mable Claire is very good at keeping every penny coming into the church discreet.” He took the ledger and stack of money, along with the checks. “I hope I can count on you to do the same.”

The image of them talking on the sidewalk this morning was stamped into my brain. Did Mable Claire know everything about the money coming in and out of this place? Just how much did Sleepy Hollow Baptist Church have?

One million dollars for sure. Where was it?

“Of course I won't say a word.” I made the sign of the cross like Granny always did.

“Dear, we aren't Catholic. Your discretion is appreciated.”

“Yes. Yes.” I nodded. “But do the deceased members ever leave the church money in their wills?”

It seemed like a good question to start with.

“It's not unusual for them to leave the church a little something.” He smiled. “After all, it all belongs to God. Have you ever seen a U-­Haul behind a hearse?”

“No sir,” I laughed. My first Betweener client, Ruthie Sue Payne, used to say that. “But what do you do with the money?”

“Pay bills, pay salaries. It's not cheap to run a church,” he said.

“Salaries?” I guess I had always thought everyone did volunteer work.

“Sure. Mine.” He pointed to himself. “The accountant. The lawyer. The secretary. Handymen. A bunch of ­people are on salary at the church, but no one in the community realizes that when they have a hard time paying their ten percent tithe.”

“Ten percent, huh?”

“Are you going to keep throwing it up in my face?” Junior protested from across the room. “I've always paid my ten percent. At least most of the time.”

“It's what the good word says. Most members of the congregation don't pay the full tithe.” He picked up the Bible next to the collection plate and walked back into his office. He held onto the money in one hand and the Bible in the other. “If you will excuse me, I have to go write next week's sermon. Thank you for your help. You have no idea what a ray of light it was to see you yesterday and this morning.”

“Thank you,” I said. “Your sermon was lovely, and I was happy to see the old photo of you and Granny and . . .” I tapped my temple before I took the picture out of my pocket. “Granny, you and Mamie Sue Preston.”

Pastor Brown's eyes drew together in an agonized expression. I held the picture up so he could get a good, long look and I could get a read on his face. There was definitely surprise and shock running throughout his body.

“Pastor, are you okay?” I asked.

“Fine. Fine.” He rocked back and forth. He put the ledger and the Bible, along with the money, back on the table. “I had no idea you knew Mamie Sue Preston.”

“Oh, she and Granny were good friends.” I for sure was going to get struck by lightning.

“They were?” He looked shocked. “It wasn't the same after Mamie Sue moved away, and then came back.”

“Mamie Sue moved away from Sleepy Hollow?” This was news to me.

“Right after we graduated from high school.” He paused and took the picture out of my hands. “As a matter of fact, a ­couple weeks after this photo was taken, I went off to seminary school. I came home about a month into school to visit, and Mamie Sue had gone. Zula Fae told me she went to visit Mamie and she was gone. Disappeared.”

“Really?” I asked. “Disappeared?”

“It wasn't until years later, after I had taken over as the pastor here at Sleepy Hollow Baptist, when Mamie showed up in the front pew, looking just like the teenage girl she'd always been.” He laughed. “She was the envy of all the women in the Auxiliary. She had on a big hat and fancy clothes.”

“I bet.” I could only imagine what Ruthie Sue Payne and Granny thought when they saw Mamie Sue strutting down the aisle at the Sunday ser­vice. “Where was she all those years?”

“I don't know. We never really talked after she moved back.” He handed the photo back to me. “She became sort of a recluse. She had her family's wealth and she had the big house in the new Triple Thorn subdivision. She had everything she needed. But God . . .” He pointed upward. “She came to church every single Sunday. I tried to reach out to her, but she kept everyone at arm's length.”

“Did she?” Then it would make sense to leave the millions. “Did she tithe her ten percent?”

“I have no idea what kind of money she had inherited from her family's coal mine shutting down in Eastern Kentucky, but she did make up for years of not being part of the congregation,” he said.

“Did she have any family?” I knew Fluggie Callahan had told me Mamie didn't.

Which reminded me, I hadn't heard from Fluggie in a ­couple of days. I was going to have to stop by the old mill and see if she'd uncovered any more details about DD LLC.

“None.” He shook his head. “Her momma and daddy were both the only children in their families. She was the only child between them. Plus she never got married. Say, why all the interest in Mamie Sue Preston?”

“I had seen her headstone from afar when I was finishing up Cephus Hardy's funeral. I found it interesting, that's all.” I sucked in a deep breath and tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. “I asked Granny about her, and she told me she was an old friend.”

“Really?” Pastor Brown asked. “I'm glad to see Zula Fae forgiving Mamie.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“You know that Granny of yours can be a grudge holder. I thought she was going to rip Mamie's fancy hat off during the singing of ‘Amazing Grace' when someone told her Mamie had switched her funeral arrangements to Burns.” He shook his head. “It wasn't one of Zula Fae's finest moments.”

“I'd say not,” I agreed.

“I'm just glad to see Zula is forgiving in her older years. We aren't getting any younger. Thankfully, our Lord doesn't hold grudges.” He picked the ledger and the money back up. “I really have to get going. Next week's sermon isn't going to write itself. Don't forget about the spaghetti dinner.”

“See you Wednesday.” I closed my eyes and tried to swallow the lump in my throat. I held onto the table just in case the big guy in the sky struck me dead. I wasn't planning on going to the spaghetti dinner or next week's ser­vice, but I wasn't telling Pastor Brown.

I got up and left out the front door of the church. I couldn't stop smiling.

I guess a man of the cloth wasn't too good for a little gossip.

I looked up to the heavens and whispered, “Thank you.”

 

Chapter 21

T
he chirping noise coming from my back pocket wasn't my normal text tone. I had forgotten Jack Henry had given me the new phone and I hadn't yet figured out the new settings.

It was a text from Charlotte Rae. A girl from Dusting Dixies was at Eternal Slumber to see me. She'd followed it up with an emoji of a grumpy face.

“Bring it on Monday.” I did a little skip down the street back toward the funeral home.

“Wait.” Junior planted himself in front of me.

Even though he was a ghost and I knew I could blow right through him, it still creeped me out, so I giddy-­upped on around him.

“Aren't you going to go and try to figure out my bank account or something?” he asked.

“If there is something you need to tell me, then tell me,” I encouraged him.

“That's the problem.” The wrinkles around his eyes deepened.

We stopped. He fanned the smoke that was coming from his toupee away from his face.

“What's the problem?” I coughed the words in my hand like I was choking, just in case someone saw me talking to myself. The last thing I needed was a visit from Doc Clyde, and the last thing Granny needed was someone telling her I was crazy. She was already going nuts trying to figure out who was planting all these stolen items in her Inn.

“I see things I think you need to know about. I have no idea what they mean to me and my murder. I only know I got a feeling you need to check them out.” His tone rang out with desperation. “I really want to go to the other side. Mamie Sue might be having a good time in this Between area, but not me. No sir-­ree am I liking this at all.”

“What exactly do you want me to look into?” I needed something to go on. Some sort of path, since I hadn't even looked into his murder.

“I have stolen a pie. I have stolen money from the Lord. I needed you to see my tithe, and I need you to investigate that.”

“You mean to tell me you are stealing all of this stuff and pinning it on Granny?” I couldn't believe I had to help a thief in the afterlife.

“I needed your attention.” He protested like what he had done was a-­okay. “You pay a lot of attention to Zula.”

“You have my attention now.” I stopped right in front of Pose and Relax.

“Are you okay, Emma Lee?” John Howard was on the sidewalk with a hammer in his hand.

“Emma, God I'm so glad to see you.” Hettie Bell pulled me into the yoga studio and John Howard followed. Junior did not follow, he was nowhere to be seen. “I saw John Howard working so hard on your flower bed, and I asked him for a tiny favor.” She held her finger and thumb together with a little distance between them. “I wanted to see if he could nail down the squeaky board. But when I walk all over the floor, it doesn't squeak. Can you remember where it was?”

I walked on the floor a ­couple of times, but nothing happened.

“It seems I fixed it doing my fake yoga.” I tapped her on the back. “Gotta go. I've got a date with a cleaning lady for Eternal Slumber,” I said.

I also had a date with Junior Mullins at his place in the home of the near dead. I left that little tidbit out.

“Dang.” Hettie Bell scratched her head. “Are you sure you can't remember?”

“Nope.” I stepped back outside and nearly ran right over Mable Claire, who was walking down the sidewalk.

“You have got to watch where you are going.” Mable Claire jumped out of the way.

“Just the person I wanted to see.” I noticed the Dusting Dixies van in the driveway of Eternal Slumber over Mable Claire's shoulder. “How is Beulah?” I asked.

“I don't know. I haven't seen her.” Mable Claire adjusted the yoga mat under her arm.

“You didn't go see her this morning?” It seemed odd, since they were thicker than thieves. More important, I wanted the answer to why she couldn't volunteer to count the church offering.

“No.”

“Oh, I volunteered to count the church collection, since you couldn't be there.” I shook my head. “I couldn't believe all the cash ­people give to the church.”

“Money? I thought it was missing.” She jammed the mat even further under her arm.

“No.” I couldn't help but notice how much she fidgeted.

“Oh dear.” She bit her lip. “I have to go.”

“Is there something you need to tell me?” I called after her.

She didn't answer. She stuck her hand in the air, waving me off, and waddled down the street.

Mable Claire's behavior was odd. She knew something, but what?

The blue Dusting Dixies van sat in the driveway of Eternal Slumber. On the side of the van, there was a big white dandelion being held by a fairy with wings. The fairy was carefully blowing the dandelion. The little white seeds were in the shape of a fluffy duster. It was cute. Killer cute?

“I'm so sorry I'm running late.” I walked in and noticed it wasn't Dixie Dunn, who I expected. “Oh.”

“Hi, Dixie sent me.” Tinsie smiled. “She didn't like the idea of a funeral home with the dead and all. Plus none of the other girls wanted to do it, so she just sent me.”

She stood with a blue apron tied neatly around her waist. Her hair was pulled up in the plume of black I had originally seen when she'd opened the door to Mamie Sue's mansion.

Tinsie was tiny, like her voice. She had a clipboard and pen in hand. There was something written on the paper that was clipped on the clipboard.

“I went through some of the checklist while I was waiting for you.” She turned the clipboard around so fast, I didn't see a thing. “Things like curtain cleaning.” She leaned in and covered her mouth with the back of the clipboard. She whispered, “The other girl says it's important.”

“Yeah.” I rolled my eyes, knowing she was talking about Charlotte Rae. “I'm sorry I had no idea we had an appointment.”

“Oh.” Tinsie's face reddened. “I thought we said today before you got the boot from Ms. Bellefry's house.”

“No biggie.” I shrugged.

That night and the moment with Beulah Paige were a little blurry, especially since Beulah had blamed me for her untimely illness.

“Where do you want to start?” I asked.

I was disappointed that Dixie wasn't the one who showed up. It was Dixie I had the questions for.

“Like I said.” She pushed her fingers in her messy bird's nest, adjusting what was falling down. “I had already gotten a start. The estimate will not include when there is a dead body lying in one of those rooms.” She did a shimmy shake. “Eww. The thought.”

“Really? They are dead.” I laughed and ignored Mamie Sue, who had decided to show up. “At least their living form is dead.”

“What does that mean?” Suddenly Tinsie's face went grim.

“Oh, a little undertaker humor never hurt anyone.” I gave a wry smile, but she wasn't budging.

“I think we should get started.” She held the clipboard close to her chest. “I'm not feeling the humor in this job. And it's going to cost you more, since it's . . .”

“Got all sorts of dead ­people in the freezer?” I laughed. Her expression grew still. “I'm joking. I understand. I got the cold shoulder all my life when I asked ­people to come over.”

“You mean you live here?” she asked. Her brows arched.

“All my life.” I pointed down the hallway. “Back there was where I grew up with my family. Then my sister and I took over, and we did an entire remodel, leaving me a little efficiency in the back.”

“It doesn't bother you when you have dead ­people up here?” She nodded toward one of the viewing rooms.

“Not a bit.” I kept my jokes to myself. “Enough about me. You are going to be the one who cleans?”

“Unfortunately I'm all you got.” She peeked inside the viewing room and stepped inside. I believe she was looking to see if any clients were laid out.

Sadly, business wasn't booming.

“Emma Lee!” Charlotte Rae bounded down the hall. Her heels clicked with rage. “All the Auxiliary women have decided to cancel their pre-­need arrangements because of Beulah Paige Bellefry's fight with you.” She stopped at the entryway of the viewing room. She didn't care Tinsie was there; she was going to tear into me. “Do you want to tell me all about it?”

“Well,” Tinsie spoke up. “Emma Lee had diarrhea and used Beulah's personal bathroom in her bedroom. But that's not all.”

“I think she was asking me.” I scowled at the new cleaning lady. “It wasn't
that
bad.”

“Oh, you mean when you tested out all the perfumes and the makeup?” Tinsie asked.

“You did what?” Charlotte Rae's body was shaking with fury. She tapped the toe of her fancy tan heels.

Today she wore a green pantsuit, making her red hair pop around her like she was an angel.

“It is a really good moisturizer,” Tinsie said. “You should try it. You look like you care about your looks.”

Charlotte Rae straightened her shoulders and flicked her long, curly hair down her back.

“Yes. I'm glad you can tell that
unlike
my sister,” her hazel eyes slid toward me, “I like to be presentable, and I feel it's very important for the business we are in. Unfortunately, she is single-­handedly killing our business, for a lack of better words.”

“I'll just run out to the van and grab you a sample.” Tinsie headed toward the front door of the funeral home, leaving me with Charlotte Rae.

When the door clicked closed, I knew I was in trouble.

“How on earth do you think we are going to stay alive with all of your crazy behavior?” Charlotte Rae threw her hands in the air.

“But . . .”

“But nothing! I have a home to take care of. I like to look nice, so I have a clothes budget, and you are dipping into it with every single meddling situation you put us in.” She shook her perfectly manicured finger at me. She must've just come from the salon, because they were not her usual shade of color, pink. They were fire red, to match her hair and anger. “This is it. I didn't want to tell you like this, but I'm going to be taking a position with Hardgrove Funeral Homes.”

“You are what?” The room had suddenly gotten chillier than the freezer in the basement. There was a bite in the air. Tinsie walked in and stood quietly behind Charlotte. I wanted to blurt out what Arley had told me about Hardgrove, but my anger stopped me.

Charlotte Rae needed to see the grass wasn't greener on the other side.

“Hardgrove has been pursuing me for a few months.” She winked at me. “Years, if you know what I mean. But who's counting?” She had a smug look on her face. “I didn't say anything, because I felt bad for leaving you. But when we had so many cancellations, I realized that I can't keep bailing you out.” Her words were cold and exact. “I'm sorry, Emma. But this is all yours. I even had the lawyers draw up the papers to put you in charge of this mess.”

“Have you told Granny about this?” I asked.

The whiz of a moped was heard in the distance. It was getting closer and closer. I knew it was Granny.

“I guess you don't have to answer that.” I glared at Charlotte Rae.

We had always had our differences, but we were family, in a family business. Charlotte didn't see it that way. She never had. She'd always seen it as an income.

“I told Hardgrove I could start immediately.” Charlotte's lids lowered.

The front door of the funeral home slammed shut; Granny stomped in.

“What the hell do you think you are doing?” Granny's eyes bugged through the magnified lenses of her aviator glasses, and her hair stuck out from underneath the tight helmet. “Charlotte Rae, you get right back in that office and do your job. The job I left in your hands.” She turned to me. “And you, you get in your office and stay in your office. Not run all over town volunteering for the church, going to church, and showing up at Auxiliary meetings.” She glared at Tinsie. “You clean this place up, and I mean clean it up!”

Tinsie opened her mouth. Granny put her whole hand out in front of Tinsie to shut her up.

“Granny, I'm sorry.” Charlotte Rae lifted her chin, not looking directly at Granny. She lowered her eyes. “I've already taken the job, and I'm going to train tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Granny shrilled, huffing and puffing out of her nose. “Wait until your momma and daddy hear you jumped ship! Going over to those no-­good Hardgroves.”

I thought Granny was going to blow, just like a pressure cooker.

On that note, Tinsie's mouth shut. She pinched her lips together and darted outside. We heard the sound of the Dusting Dixies van doors slamming.

Charlotte Rae tugged on the edges of her fancy green suit coat. “I'm not going to be able to stay at this circus you want to call a funeral home. We are the joke of this and every town around us. Do Momma and Daddy know what you've done?” Charlotte warned Granny.

I was sure the floor shook from underneath me from Granny's anger spewing out of her body.

“I will not lose my license because of her!” Charlotte Rae jabbed her finger at me.

“Me?” I took a small offense at her words.

“Yes.” Fire came out of Charlotte Rae's eyes. “You! In one year you have single-­handedly torn down a family business that took years to create!”

“Now, that is not fair,” I protested. “You could've left your little throne in there and hit the pavement like me.”

“You need to be locked up.” She did the crazy sign around her ear. “You are crazy! Crazy!”

“Wait just a minute.” Granny stopped Charlotte from storming off. “Emma Lee is not crazy. She is doing the best she can, but this is a joint venture I felt the both of you could do together.”

Tinsie came back in with her head down and her hands filled with a bucket of cleaning supplies. She took out the duster and sprayed something on it before she started going over the curtains.