Better Dead

by Pamela Kopfler

  “Have you ever seen anything like it?” she said, as she settled in the swing at the end of the porch.

  “Can’t say I have.”

  “They match the plane, if you know what I mean.” She pushed off with her foot. “Toni Bolla—she’s not a guy, by the way—and Duke Fontana.”

  “Let’s not jump to any conclusions this time.”

  She raised a finger. “They had a stainless-steel briefcase with a lock on it.”

  “Most briefcases have a lock.”

  “Yeah, but he wouldn’t let me touch it. I bet it’s filled with cash to make the transaction. We’ve got to get in there.”

  An unlawful search and seizure could blow his chances of making a bust stick. Not to mention that he could be breaking into an innocent person’s private property. “You know about surveillance, don’t you?”

  “Sure. I watch detective shows.”

  “No drama. Just watch and report. No breaking into briefcases or confronting a guest if they do something that you think is suspicious. Watch and report to me. That’s all. Can you do it?”

  She put her foot down and stopped the swing. “But—”

  “No buts. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

  Her look said it all. She couldn’t be trusted to follow directions or stay out of trouble.

  * * *

  “You think the undertaker puts drawers on folks ’fore he buries ’em?” Nelda asked as she helped Holly wrangle a pair of pantaloons on Eudora. “Ain’t nobody gonna see ’em.”

  “I’d never thought about it until the honeymooners decided to take a peek under Eudora’s skirt.” And Burl had made her look like an idiot in front of Jake and the honeymooners. Now Jake thought her imagination was in overdrive, and he didn’t trust her judgment or her suspicions. A locked stainless-steel briefcase. Come on. Who wouldn’t be suspicious?

  Nelda shook her head, and her garlic necklace swung. “All folks care about is what shows on the outside, anyhow.”

  Holly tugged Eudora’s stuffed leg through a pantaloon leg. “You’re right about that.”

  If Jake didn’t want her to do anything, fine. What he didn’t know or couldn’t see wouldn’t hurt him.

  “So why we tusslin’ with Eudora to put pantaloons on her?”

  “Because now I know she needs them, even if no one else can see them.”

  “Humph. Guess you shoulda buried Burl in starched shorts.” Nelda slapped her hands together. “Heavy starch to give him a rash till kingdom come, ’cause he deserves it.”

  Holly giggled. “No. Flaming red jockeys, three sizes too small.”

  “You right.” Nelda stomped and covered her mouth as she laughed. “That’d cramp his style.” She stopped short, then jerked her head to look over her shoulder. “He ain’t up in here right now, is he?”

  Holly shook her head. “Thank God.”

  “Amen to that. I done had enough of that ghost.”

  “Me too.” Whatever it took, she was catching the smugglers. She needed to get Burl a one-way pass through the pearly gates, whether he deserved it or not and whether she did it Jake’s way or not.

  Nelda pulled Eudora’s other leg through the pantaloons. “Maybe we can get Eudora some glass feet for next year and some shoes.”

  “If we keep getting reservations and tour buses, we’ll get Eudora a whole new outfit for next year.” Holly pulled Eudora’s dress in place, then turned to Nelda. “And a big raise for you.”

  Nelda’s face cracked into a toothy grin. “Thanks to boob tube.”

  “YouTube.” Holly laid Eudora out in the coffin for viewing, then closed the lid and gave it a little pat.

  “I don’t care what you call it.” Nelda picked up a dust cloth and passed it across the coffin. “I was startin’ to think Holly Grove wasn’t gonna make it long enough for me to win my big skillet, especially since that tax bill came. Then boob tube got ’em callin’.”

  “I told you plantations with ghosts draw a bigger crowd. Even the small ones, like Holly Grove.”

  “But you don’t want Burl round forever. What if you get rid of your ghost? Then what?”

  “It doesn’t matter. Once a plantation is known as haunted, it will always be considered haunted.”

  “That’s what I call job security.” Nelda tossed the dust cloth over her shoulder.

  Holly caught a whiff of garlic and stepped back.

  “I was feeling a little worried ’bout makin’ you get that psychic and wonderin’ if I’d done the right thing. I mean, she might be able to get Burl outta here.”

  “I never really believed in that stuff.” Holly lifted a shoulder. “But then again, I never believed in ghosts until Burl came back.”

  “Humph.” Nelda picked up her bucket of cleaning supplies and ambled toward the kitchen. “I believe it. I believe it all.”

  “Are you coming back for the séance tomorrow night?”

  “You ain’t got a raise big enough for me to come back up in here for some lady to call up ghosts,” Nelda said, never breaking her pace.

  “Nelda,” Holly called.

  Nelda turned around and bumped the swinging door open with her generous backside.

  “Thanks for staying with me.” Holly fidgeted with her hands, trying to say the right thing. “I know the ghost thing is difficult for you.”

  “You ask that psychic if I’m gonna win my big skillet.” She turned, then jerked back, grinning. “And how big my raise is gonna be.”

  The kitchen door flapped closed behind Nelda and muffled her laugh.

  Holly sucked in a deep breath. She couldn’t manage without Nelda, and if the business kept growing, they’d need more help. She hated to admit it, but Jake had been right about the publicity. It was hard enough to keep the guests fed, their rooms clean, and to run tours every morning and afternoon, much less pick out a smuggler. Much more business and she’d be too successful to sleep. But that was a good thing. The only thing better would be if she could nail the smugglers and get Burl out of her hair.

  The low ring of the house phone sounded from the kitchen, followed by Nelda’s voice. Moments later, she busted through the kitchen door and thundered up to Holly. The whites of Nelda’s eyes bulged around her black pupils. “You ain’t gonna believe it.”

  CHAPTER 26

  Nelda opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Holly had known her all her life and had never known her to be speechless. Nelda nodded her head toward the kitchen. She looked like she’d seen a ghost.

  Ghost. Ire inched up Holly’s back. If Burl was tormenting Nelda again, she’d, she’d . . . Crapola. She couldn’t do squat to him. “Did Burl do something to you?”

  She shook her head.

  Holly remembered Nelda had answered the phone. Visions of accidents, death, and disaster whirled through her mind. “What is it, then?”

  “S-she’s on the phone.”

  “Who?”

  Nelda’s face melted from shock to awe. “Sylvia Martin.” She said the name like it should mean something important. Her lips spread in a smile.

  Holly searched her mind for a Sylvia Martin. “Who’s that?”

  Nelda released Holly’s hands and blew out a breath like Holly didn’t know who the president was. “That lady from Inquiring Minds.”

  “Inquiring Minds?”

  “You know. Sunday nights.”

  “What about Sunday nights?”

  “Inquiring Minds.”

  Holly felt like she was trapped in Groundhog Day. “Okay. Slow down and start from the beginning. Is anyone hurt or dead?”

  “No, but last week on Inquiring Minds, there was this man who could drive nails in his hands, and it didn’t hurt,” she said, as though Holly should be impressed.

  “Huh?”

  “And the week before that, there was a man who got sucked up in a spaceship and lived to tell it.” Nelda shoved her hands on her hips. “She seen our ghost on boob tube and wants to do a story on Holly Grove.” Nelda yanked Holly’s arm.
“Hurry up. She’s a TV star, and she called all the way from New York City. She ain’t got time to wait on you to get yourself to the phone.”

  Holly followed Nelda into the kitchen and picked up the landline. “Hello.”

  “Ms. Davis,” a pitch-perfect voice purred on the other end. “I’m so glad I caught you. My producer has been e-mailing you all day. I guess you’ve been out of touch.”

  “Busy.” Holly propped herself against the ceramic counter and twirled the cord of the outdated phone around her finger. “I haven’t had a chance to check my e-mail since this morning.” Or change clothes or eat.

  “I’d love to do a show on the ghost in the grove. We’ll need three rooms for this weekend.”

  “I’m sorry. I don’t have three rooms available.” Which was a welcome first.

  “I’ll make it worth your while.”

  “It’s not that. The rooms are all reserved. With the Haunted Pilgrimage and the YouTube video, I’ve been swamped.”

  “Surely you have something. Do you realize the publicity this will generate for your B & B?”

  Holly paced, tethered by the phone cord. YouTube had stirred up business, but not everyone surfed the Internet. Everyone watched TV. “Well, I do have one room with a loft. It’s a bit rustic, though.”

  “I realize Holly Grove isn’t a five-star hotel.”

  Holly brushed off the sting of Sylvia’s comment. “I don’t think you understand.”

  “My producer will handle the details. I’m thrilled you want to be on Inquiring Minds. See you on the thirtieth.”

  The phone clicked.

  “Hello?” Holly pulled the phone away from her ear and stared at it. “She hung up.”

  “She comin’?”

  “Looks like she’ll be here on Halloween weekend. We’ll have to clean up Abe’s cabin for her.”

  Nelda gawked at Holly. “You puttin’ a TV star in that place?”

  “I tried to tell her it wasn’t our luxury suite.”

  Nelda trotted to the pantry. “What am I gonna cook? I ain’t never cooked for a TV star before.”

  “Don’t worry about that. She probably weighs ninety pounds and is a vegan.”

  “Vegan?”

  “They don’t eat meat.”

  “Humph. She ain’t had my fried chicken.”

  “Since you’re going to be so busy with the gumbo competition and cooking for a full house, I’ll clean the rooms outside the main house, too.” That would give Holly every opportunity to investigate all her guests’ personal belongings for anything suspicious.

  “Fine by me. I’d rather cook than clean any day.”

  “Are you coming to the séance now?”

  “Not on your life.”

  “But you said you watch Inquiring Minds all the time.”

  “I ain’t never heard of nobody reachin’ through a TV and gettin’ somebody. I’ll be watchin’ from my La-Z-Boy, where it’s nice and safe.”

  “I think we should keep our new guest a secret until she arrives.” Smugglers probably wouldn’t be too keen on TV cameras if they knew they were coming.

  “Why?”

  “I want it to be a big surprise. Everyone loves surprises.” Except Jake. He wouldn’t like this one bit.

  * * *

  “I know you said you didn’t want to go to heaven, but you’re going if I have to escort you myself,” Holly said as Burl floated through the bedroom door of the Longfellow suite.

  The lights on the brass gasolier flickered. Burl looked up and grinned like he’d invented electricity. “Damn. I’m getting good.”

  “You flickered lights.” Holly snatched the black fabric cross of mourning from the canopy bed. “Big deal.”

  “You bet your sassy little heinie it’s a big deal. I blinked the lights every time the tour group entered a different room.”

  “Okay.” She folded the fabric in a tight square. “So you’ve got the tourists whipped into a frenzy.”

  “It’s what you wanted. Right?”

  Holly stuffed the cloth in a hidden compartment of the fireplace mantel. “Yes, but I need you to spy on my guests. You can see things I can’t. Like inside a locked stainless-steel briefcase.”

  “Blondie, I told you. I’m not ready to go to heaven,” he said, trailing behind her.

  Holly snatched the shammed pillows from the bed and smashed them under her arm. “I told you, you can’t stay here.”

  “Do you realize I’m getting closer and closer to being whole? I can turn lights on and off, not just blow out candles. I put my handprint on a mirror, for crying out loud. If I stay long enough, I’ll figure this out. And I’ll be whole again.”

  Holly just stared at him. “No one can see you, Burl.”

  He cast a glance down his body, then poured a pleading look over her. “You can.”

  She smashed the extra pillows in an armoire. “And I don’t want to.”

  Holly marched past Burl to the basket of pralines on the marble-topped bedside table. Holly placed one of Nelda’s pralines in a crisp waxed-paper sleeve on the feather pillow on the bed.

  Burl floated to her side. “You loved me once.”

  “And look what it got me.” She picked up the basket of pralines and hooked it over her arm.

  “Give me a chance, Blondie,” he said, following her like a lovesick puppy around the bed.

  “You had your chance. Now I’m on my own.”

  “I’m here for you.”

  Holly walked to the door, then turned to Burl. “I have six more turndowns to do tonight. Can you do that?”

  Burl squirreled his mouth to the side and looked away.

  “I didn’t think so.” She grabbed the antique brass doorknob. “I have a business to run, and thanks to you, one of my guests is a criminal.”

  She flapped her free arm against her side. “Mr. Dunbar requested a room with a view of the river. That’s why he’s here in the Longfellow suite.” She gestured toward the window. “Is he watching for a barge to push up onshore for a drop, or is he just like every other tourist enamored with the Mississippi?” Holly shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know. I can’t see what he’s doing in here, but you can.”

  Burl sliced his palm through the air in a flourish. “You think I’m just roving around this house all the time?”

  “Where else can you go?”

  “Hell if I know, but when I’m not here, it’s like I don’t exist. When I show up again, it’s in a room with you or Nelda. I can’t just drop in wherever I want to.”

  “You’re telling me you can’t take a peek in the rooms anytime you want?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “What’s not exactly?” She patted her foot. “And don’t you dare bend, shade, or twist the truth one iota.”

  “I’m not lying. I swear to God.” He cast a look upward. “And He’s listening. I’ve been thinking about this. I know I have more energy when you’re in the house and when people believe I’m here. Like Nelda. Or the people on the tours. They believe.”

  “Energy?”

  “Yeah. When you leave the house or sleep, I lose my energy after a while, and poof ”—he snapped both fingers—“I’m in that weird timeless hole until you come back.”

  “Surely you’re not saying I give you energy.”

  Burl lifted a shoulder. “Maybe.”

  “That’s ridiculous. Why do you fade out when I’m right here?”

  “Good question.” Burl fingered his chin. “How can I put this, Blondie?” He cocked a brow. “It’s kind of like when a lucky guy kicks his boots under his best girl’s bed.”

  Holly rolled her eyes, then yanked the door open. Everything was like bedroom rodeo to him. She huffed as she stomped down the stairs.

  Burl trailed behind her. “It’s like this. You may turn me on, but I’m good for only so long. And I can never predict how long.”

  “This is so like you. It has nothing to do with any of that stuff, and I have nothing to do with you being here. Period
.”

  “Hey, you turn me on.” He winked. “Always have.”

  “You screwed up your life single-handedly. Correction. You and the redhead screwed. The rest, you just screwed up solo.”

  “Let me make it up to you in this life.”

  “What life? You’re a ghost. Besides, you couldn’t make it up to me in ten lives.”

  “That’s why I’m staying. I messed us up in my lifetime, but I have the rest of yours to make it right.”

  CHAPTER 27

  No way would Holly give Burl the rest of her life. She’d do anything to get rid of him. Even hire a psychic. She groaned inwardly as Angel Dupree swept into the foyer. Her silky black hair floated across her shoulders as she turned to Holly.

  “The spirit is with us,” Angel whispered through crimson lips.

  Holly blinked and looked at Burl. Maybe Angel was a real psychic. Excitement tingled through her. Could Angel get rid of Burl?

  “Who the devil is this?” Burl asked, circling Angel. “And why is she whispering? I’m dead, not deaf.”

  “Can you see him?” Holly whispered, only because Angel had.

  “No.” Angel spun in the foyer. “I feel his presence.”

  “Bull,” Burl said.

  “The spirit is restless.” Angel closed her eyes and tilted her flawless porcelain face upward. She lifted her hands, palms up. “Oh, spirit guide, come to me.”

  Burl looked from side to side and smirked. “Who’s the spirit guide? I could use that dude.”

  Holly inched closer to Angel. “Do you think you can help me?”

  Angel opened an eye. “Shh. I must take in the energy of the spirit to tap my psychic powers.”

  Holly tilted her head. There’s that energy thing again.

  “Help you?” Burl asked. “What’s she talking about?”

  Eyes closed, Angel lowered her head and clasped her hands together. “He’s not yet accustomed to death.”

  Burl’s lip curled into a sarcastic smirk. “Who gets used to death?”

  “He feels alone.” Angel opened her eyes. “Forgotten.”

  “I’ll show her forgotten.” Burl squinted as he stared at the 150-year-old gasolier. The lights flickered.

  Angel smiled. “I have his attention.” She turned to Holly. “Did Aunt Claireese tell you our fee?”