Make the Ghost of It (Witch Woods Funeral Home Book 3): (Ghost Cozy Mystery series) (9 page)

Chapter 17

I got home, parked Basil’s car, and staggered into the funeral home. I leaned back against the door and then slipped to the ground, the tears now falling freely. Ernie appeared and stood looking at me for a while. He had never seen me in this state before, and I think he was at a loss for words. I wiped my eyes. “I’m all right,” I said in a weak voice.

“I’m sorry,” he said, and then he vanished.

I was a little annoyed with myself. I should have asked him where Lewis was.

I walked up the stairs to my apartment, and looked in the bathroom mirror. I laughed, in spite of myself. I looked like a clown—long black streaks of mascara were running down my face, and my eyes were black pools where I had wiped them. I washed my face, and forced myself to take some deep breaths. I thought I should make a nice hot cup of tea, and then think about the suspects some more. No sooner had I sat down than Tara called.

“OMG, Laurel, are you all right? Duncan just told me what happened.”

The tears threatened to fall again, but I held them back. “No, I’m not all right. Basil didn’t do it.”

“Of course he didn’t!” Tara said. “Do you want me to come over?”

I thought about it for a moment, but then thought that perhaps she should stay at home. I didn’t know if it was Duncan’s night off, but if it was, I didn’t want to interrupt their alone time. Duncan had such a heavy work schedule and they barely had time together as it was. “Thanks, Tara, but I’ll just have an early night. I’ve got a crashing headache.”

“I’m not surprised. Anyway, Duncan told me something else. I don’t know if it will help, though.”

My interest was piqued. “What is it?”

“Okay, so you asked me to get Duncan to look into Norbert’s and Violet’s backgrounds to see if they had criminal records,” she said.

I nodded, and then realized that Tara couldn’t see me. “Yes, but we’d already found out that Violet’s husband died in somewhat suspicious circumstances, and that’s how she became a millionaire.”

“Oh, you know that already?”

“Yes,” I said. “But thanks for looking into it, anyway.”

“Oh, but there’s more.” Tara’s tone was excited, and I held my breath, waiting for her to continue. “Duncan said there was nothing on record, so I asked him to ask an old buddy from Sydney. He was able to call in a favor, and he found out that Norbert was suspected along with Violet. The police seem to think that the two of them were having an affair, and that’s why Violet’s husband was killed—apart from all the millions of dollars, of course.”

I tapped my chin. “But why didn’t Norbert and Violet get married then?” I asked her.

“I’m not sure what you mean,” Tara said.

“Okay, let’s assume for a moment that Norbert and Violet have killed Lewis now, to get Lewis’s millions. Basil and I were snooping around, and we saw them get a marriage license from the courthouse. Whatever stopped them getting married if they both killed Violet’s husband back then?”

“I don’t know,” Tara said. “I don’t have a head for all this detective stuff. I only married one.” She forced a laugh. “Don’t worry, Laurel. I’m sure Basil’s name will be cleared.”

I wondered whether Tara really did think that, or whether she was only saying it to make me feel better, but I didn’t want to put her on the spot by asking her. I thanked her for finding out the information, and then hung up.

I stirred two large spoonfuls of sugar into my tea. I don’t usually have sugar in my tea, but I felt I needed it. What could I make of this new information? It didn’t make sense. I wanted to speak to Lewis, but Lewis was nowhere to be seen.

I stared at my tea so long that it went cold. I took my cup and poured out the remains of the tea. I still felt at a loss, so decided to go downstairs to my office and do some paperwork. That would take my mind off things. I was too tired to make any sense out of the whole Norbert and Violet thing anyway.

I hadn’t even reached my office, when Ernie materialized in front of me. “How’s it going, kid? Good to see you’ve stopped crying.”

I leaned against the wall. “I meant to ask you before. Have you seen Lewis around?”

“No, I haven’t.” He shook his head as if for emphasis. “I’ve been wondering where he was.”

“It’s highly doubtful that he has crossed over,” I said, “given that his murder hasn’t been solved yet.”

“Have you and that accountant got any clues as to who it could be?”

I pulled a face. “The cops arrested Basil tonight.” Ernie’s jaw dropped open, and I continued. “And just now, Tara told me that Norbert and Violet knew each other when Violet’s husband was killed, leaving her a millionaire.”

Ernie looked thoughtful. “Do you think they were in it together?”

“Put it this way; they’re both now at the top of my Suspects List. The only other ones on that list are Simon Smarts and Theo Derringer. I don’t trust either of those men, but I’m beginning to think that they were just doing dirty business rather than doing murders.”

“Can I do something to help?” he said.

I was touched. “That’s lovely of you, Ernie,” I said. “Actually, there is something you could do. Could you please go over to Violet and Norbert’s motel room and see if they say anything that would implicate them in Lewis’s murder?”

Ernie looked smug. “I’ve already done that,” he said. “I’ve spent a lot of time over there. They haven’t said a thing about murdering Lewis. In fact, Norbert keeps telling Violet that he thinks it was suicide.”

“Suicide?” I echoed. “Even the police didn’t bring that one up.”

Ernie nodded. “Yes, he was going on and on about a well known case in England where they found the risers cut, and people were arrested at first, but then the police thought it was suicide.”

I was shocked. “Well, that means that they didn’t do it! That means I’m back to Theo or Simon.”

“It doesn’t mean anything of the sort.” Ernie shook his head. “It just means that Norbert and Violet weren’t in it together.”

I rubbed my temples. “Yes of course, you’re right. I’m just not thinking clearly.” Then something else occurred to me. “Ernie, why didn’t you tell me this about Norbert and Violet sooner?”

Ernie smirked. “You didn’t ask.” And with that, he vanished.

I was irritated with Ernie, but at the same time I was pleased with the information he had just given me. So Norbert and Violet weren’t in it together. Could it have been Norbert by himself? But what did he have to gain? Well, there were Violet’s millions. And what about Violet by herself? After all, she thought she was to inherit all of Lewis’s estate. My only problem with that was that I couldn’t figure out why she hadn’t waited until after she was married to him to kill him. That is, unless she truly was in love with Norbert.

This was doing my head in. I walked back up the stairs and thought about going to bed. I knew there was no way I would be able to sleep, but I had to do something to take my mind off it.

My television wasn’t yet working, so I opened my iPad and logged into Netflix. I searched through what seemed like hundreds of movies, and couldn’t find anything I’d like. I figured that the romantic movies would remind me that Basil was custody, and the action movies would make me tense. It was then that I decided to paint the walls.

I had plenty of energy, so much energy that I felt like a current of electricity was running through me. Painting seemed like the ideal distraction. I went to the main bedroom where I had stored my cans of paint, rollers, paint tray, and brushes. I got out a can of paint, cracked open the lid, and gave the paint a good stir, and then carried the can into the bedroom in which I had been sleeping.

I removed the temporary bed and my clothes. I then attacked the walls, formulating a plan with each brushstroke.

What did I know for sure? The only thing I knew for sure was that Norbert and Violet weren’t in it together. That meant I had five options: it was either Norbert, Violet, Theo, Simon, or Simon and Theo in it together.

I needed to speak to Lewis. He hadn’t crossed over—I was sure of that. So where was he? I would have to summon him. I opened my door and tried calling out to him, with no response. Ernie hadn’t seen him, so that left me only one option. I had to hold a séance.

Chapter 18

It was well past midnight when I finally stopped painting. The paint fumes were overbearing, so I decided I’d have to sleep downstairs in the funeral home. I could sleep well enough in a chair—I had slept in a seat on the Melbourne to Sydney overnight train many a time when I was at college. It wasn’t the most pleasant night’s sleep, but at least I knew it was doable.

The old sash window in the bedroom had partially closed itself, and with a sigh I walked over to push it open all the way. I looked out. The window faced the sheep’s paddock, and I could see them now, like white balls of cotton illuminated by the moonlight. The moon was waning, but still bright.

A shadow moved close to the building. Someone was there. I looked again, but there was nothing. It must have been a trick of the moonlight, my imagination. Still, the hair stood up on the back of my neck and my heart beat ever faster.

I shook my head. I was tired; Basil had been arrested, and my thoughts were going into overdrive. Whoever had killed Lewis couldn’t possibly be after me. I didn’t even know which of the suspects it could be, so I was safe.

I kept telling myself that while I dragged my pillows and blankets down the stairs. I infinitely preferred this climate to Melbourne’s. No matter how hot it got here during the day, the nights were guaranteed to be cool.

I awoke on the floor of my office. My office chair had proven more uncomfortable than I had imagined, so the floor it had to be. It wasn’t so bad, and I was sure that I’d had about four hours sleep. I staggered to my feet and stretched, then headed for the nearest coffee machine.

The Nespresso machine in the funeral home kitchen was, as always, a welcome sight. I turned it on, and when it had warmed up, I dropped in one pod. The ensuing sound was my most favorite sound in the world.

Soon I felt almost human again. I thought if I kept overdosing on coffee, I might make it through the day. I don’t remember being this tired.

Now what had I forgotten to do? I looked in my appointment book. No services today. Oh, that’s right! I was going to hold a séance.

I had never used an Ouija board before, but Tara had given me one as a gift many years ago. I had kept it locked in one of the filing cabinet drawers in my office, because if my mother ever saw it, her head would surely rotate three hundred and sixty degrees, and she would call in an exorcism team. Of that, I had no doubt. Mom thought scented candles were a tool of the devil, so she would probably need years of therapy if she ever saw me using an Ouija board.

Even after two coffees, I still felt sleepy and groggy. I debated whether or not I should go outside to get some fresh air, but had another coffee instead. I still felt fuzzy headed.

I unlocked the drawer and brought out the Ouija board with something akin to a guilty sense of excitement.

Surely this would bring Lewis through, from wherever he was. I knew that murdered people often took a long time to come through, but he had seemed quite fine with that. I supposed it had taken a while to sink in. I needed to ask Lewis questions about each one of the suspects because Basil might be denied bail. Who would know? I couldn’t take that risk. I had to find out who the murderer was, and fast, and I had to do it by myself—with help from Lewis, if possible.

I took the Ouija board to the memorial service room. I hoped that this room, given that Lewis’s memorial service had been held in it, would be the place he would most resonate with.

I walked past the empty coffin—there was always one on display for prospective clients—and opened the lid. It was a habit of mine. I didn’t like staying in the same room as a coffin unless the lid was open—call me weird. I walked to the back of the room, and sat down with the Ouija board just in front of the platform.

“Is anyone there?” I said loudly. “Lewis, are you there?”

Nothing.

I gripped the wooden planchette more tightly, and asked again, more loudly this time. “Lewis! Lewis, are you there?” I was practically yelling now.

I wondered if I needed more than one person. After all, this was my first time using the Ouija board. I tried once more, and this time, I could actually feel Lewis coming through.

Just then the door to the memorial room flew open. I looked up with shock. Surely Lewis wouldn’t use the door?

“Laurel? Where are you? I heard you yelling. Are you there?”

I was filled with utter horror. It was my mother. I ducked down, hoping she wouldn’t see me. I frantically looked for somewhere to hide the Ouija board. I eyeballed the coffin. It was on the other side of the aisle, and my mother would see me if I went for it and dropped the board in there. Perhaps if I was very quiet she would go back out and look elsewhere, and then I could hide it in the coffin. I also debated whether to stand up and just walk quickly toward her and then steer her out of the room.

Too late. My mother had sneaked down the aisle. She caught sight of me. Her reaction was precisely as I imagined it to be.

She was struck speechless.

Her hands flew to her throat.

She went as white as any ghost I had ever seen, and staggered backward. She fainted, and as she did so, she fell into the coffin.

I ran over to see if she was all right, but she looked quite peaceful lying there in the coffin. I wondered what to do. Should I throw water on her? Perhaps better to leave well enough alone. I knew she was going to give me an earful, and then some.

Just then, Lewis materialized. “You were yelling for me?”

“Yes,” I said. “Where have you been?”

He didn’t answer, but looked past me into the coffin. “Oh, I’m so sorry about your mother, Laurel. When did that happen?” He tried to pat me on the shoulder, but his hand passed right through me.

“She’s not dead,” I said. “She just passed out when she saw me using the Ouija board. Anyway, where have you been?”

“Have I been somewhere?” Lewis said. “I thought I’d been asleep. Being dead takes quite some getting used to, you know. I thought I was here only yesterday.”

“No, it’s been a while.”

Lewis simply shrugged. “Well, I just found out who killed me, and I feel I’m going to go now. You know, cross over, or whatever you live ones call it.” He looked quite pleased.

“Wait!” I said. “You haven’t told me who killed you.”

Lewis was already fading. “Goodbye, Laurel,” he said. “Norbert killed me.” And with that, he was gone.

“Norbert is the murderer?” I yelled after him.

He reappeared. “Yes. Can I go now?”

Just then, the memorial room door flew open for the second time that day. It was Norbert.