by Ann Charles
“The Carhart house?” I shot Ray another blast of burning hatred. Prudence and her past were also not supposed to be on that list.
“That’s the one.” Ray’s gloat made me want to grab my stapler and commit a technical foul on his head.
Maybe I’d sic Prudence on his ass when we were there. That was if Zeke and Zelda Britton, the soon-to-be new owners of the Carhart place, were game to have their house on television. “Do I need the almost owners or the seller to sign off on the paperwork?” I asked Jerry, not even bothering with an attempt to convince him that taking a TV crew into Prudence’s lair was a splitting-atoms level of a bad idea.
“When will the sale close?”
“Early November if we have no delays.”
“Maybe we should get both to be safe,” Mona suggested, giving me a supportive smile.
Someone should get Prudence’s okay, too, but that wasn’t going to be me. That ghost had freaked the shit out of me too many times to count. I might have to call in sick if we ended up filming in her lair.
“Okay,” Jerry clapped his hands, a signal that the huddle was almost over and we’d be sent back onto the court to play ball again soon. “We’re on our way to tying up all loose ends. Violet and Ben, I’d like to huddle with you two this afternoon to discuss clothing and makeup choices and to toss some scripted lines around.”
Ben and I both nodded like matching bobble-heads.
After a final “Go team!” Jerry headed back to his office.
I pulled up Cornelius’s phone number. He didn’t answer, so I left a detailed message and hung up.
Downing my coffee in one long gulp, I stared out the plate glass windows and watched traffic roll by as usual.
Doomsday was a weekend away.
I fought the urge to climb under my desk and wait for the mushroom cloud.
* * *
Harvey’s pickup was parked out front when I pulled into Aunt Zoe’s drive after escaping from Jerry’s day-long seminar on how to walk, talk, and dress for the camera. He seemed to have forgotten I’d read the book—sort of.
I shut down the Picklemobile and sat there for a few sighs, switching modes from upcoming television starlet to wickedly cruel mother.
Finally Jerry’s years of being a pro-basketball player hounded by the paparazzi, wanting to talk about his wins and losses both on and off the court, were paying off. Back then, he’d learned from his fellow veteran teammates how to shine for the cameras even when his reputation was tarnished. Now he was teaching Ben and me the tricks of his glamorous trade.
It was too bad Jane hadn’t hired Tiffany Sugarbell instead of me back in April. The redheaded siren would have loved being in the spotlight, showing off her wares and talents in front of the cameras.
Me? I just prayed I made it through each day of filming without falling flat on my face or ass, or both. My smoldering reputation as Spooky Parker, the ghost Realtor, was about to get a squirt of lighter fluid.
If only I had Aunt Zoe’s creative talent and could do something with my hands other than wrangle children and kill white-haired freaks who weren’t quite human. Neither of which I was doing that well currently.
Maybe Doc would consider paying me to be his sex slave if this whole thing went south. I’d be content to work for room and board for three minus one chicken.
Inside the house the aroma of cooking meat blocked all further worries from surfacing. My nose led me straight to the kitchen, not even giving me time to shed my coat and kick off my boots. Harvey stood next to the sink mixing something in a bowl.
“What is that?”
“My momma’s famous ‘slaw recipe.”
“No, that smell.” I inhaled.
“Meatloaf.”
I peeked into the oven, licking my chops. “It’s heavenly.”
“It’s just baked meat and some spices.”
Just baked meat … “My dear, wonderful, amazing Chef Harvey.” I smiled for the first time since saying goodbye to Doc this morning. “How about you and I tie the knot and then you can cook for me and my kids every night.”
He hooted, leaning back on his heels. “No way in hell, girl. You’re too big of a nut to crack for this ol’ boy. Besides, I’m savin’ my pennies for one of them there catalogue women.”
“What’s a catalogue woman?”
“Mail-order bride.”
“Oh, yeah? What do those run these days?”
He looked me up and down like I was on the auction block. “A helluva lot less than a dame with two foals.”
“What about Miss Geary?”
Harvey and Aunt Zoe’s neighbor across the street had enjoyed each other’s company both night and morning-after for quite some time until she’d kicked him to the curb a while ago.
“She’s a daisy, but she’s into the younger studs now from what I hear.”
As in Rex, my ex, who’d used Miss Geary so that he could spy on me and my kids from close range. “I haven’t seen Rex’s car parked in her drive for weeks.”
“That’s because she found a new beau over in Sturgis. He has a chromed out Harley with one of those ‘bitch’ seats on the back.” He pushed me toward the dining room. “Now go get dressed for Ebenezer’s funeral while I round up the kids for supper.”
Right, the funeral. Joy.
Luckily for me it was Halloween time, because they didn’t sell funeral hats with veils at any of the regular department stores down in Rapid. However, in one of those stores that pops up in time for the spook-filled holiday selling costumes, animated yard decorations, and zombie pieces, I’d found just what I needed to disguise myself for the evening. I debated on adding a fake bloody stump for an arm, but I was supposed to blend in, not make people scream. Besides, it was a funeral after all, so I needed to remain respectful of the dead while trying not to end up as one of the non-living myself.
By the time I’d tucked up all of my hair in a nest of bobby pins and gotten all duded up minus the dress, hat, and veil, Doc had rolled into the drive. I greeted him at the door in my bathrobe.
He stood under the porch light dressed in the same slacks and jacket, but the cream shirt had been switched with a black one.
“Come in, Johnny Cash. Did you have fun stuck over in Folsom Prison today?”
“Not at all.” Doc stepped inside and shucked his coat. “How about you put those lovely lips next to my ear and blow my blues away.”
I closed the door behind him, noticing the tiredness in his eyes. “Next to your ear, huh?”
“For starters.” He pointed at my robe. “What’s under there?”
“A weapons arsenal that will make your knees wobble.”
“Nearly naked and deadly, I like that in a woman.”
I went up on my toes and hit him with a kiss. “Your lips are cold. Stick around after the funeral and I’ll warm them up for you.”
Grabbing his arm, I tugged him to the kitchen. Harvey was setting sliced pieces of meatloaf on the table.
“Where are the kids?” I asked Harvey.
“They already ate. Addy’s down in the basement playin’ with her chicken, and your boy’s up in his room. He was fillin’ my ears with stories from some book Doc gave him.”
I looked at Doc. “Another ghosts of Deadwood collection?”
“Something like that.” He held out my chair, waiting for me to sit before joining Harvey and me at the table.
For the next fifteen minutes, I forgot all about the chaos going on in my world and frolicked around in meatloaf land while Harvey and Doc talked about things I couldn’t remember moments later.
“Damn, this is good meatloaf,” I told Harvey as I plowed through my second piece.
“Get that googly look out of yer eyes, girl. My answer is still ‘no.’”
“Answer to what?” Doc asked.
My face warmed. I mimed zipping my lips at Harvey. Talking about the M word in front of Doc always made my armpits sweaty.
“She offered to get hitched, but I don’t want he
r. She comes with too many horns and rattles for this old man.”
Doc lowered his fork, a smile rounding the corners of his mouth. “You asked Willis to marry you?”
I opened my mouth and then closed it, worried I’d somehow jam my slipper in it.
“Yes sirree.” Harvey beat me to the answer. “But she only wants me for my cookin’.” He faked wiping tears from his eyes with his napkin.
Doc chuckled. “Can’t say I blame her. You do have a way with tongs and an oven mitt.”
“That’s what some of them feisty old mares down at the senior center whisper about me, too.”
I pushed my chair back, taking this opportunity to flee. “I need to get dressed.” I carried my pretty much licked-clean plate to the sink. “Harvey, I’ll do the dishes when we get back from Mudder Brothers.”
“Don’t worry, the young’uns can help me clean up. It’s good for ‘em.”
I patted him on the shoulder. “Thanks, heartbreaker.” I shot Doc a glance, not quite meeting his eyes. “Give me ten minutes.”
I shot out of the room like the starter pistol had fired.
True to my word, ten minutes later I kissed my grumbling kids on the head, snapped Harvey’s suspenders, and followed Doc out the door.
Doc didn’t mention my marriage proposal on the way down to Mudder Brothers, thankfully. It was probably in part because I filled the ride with inane chatter about my day, determined to keep things light and breezy between us.
He parked behind his office. When I started to climb out of his car, he caught my hand.
“Promise me you won’t sneak down into the basement tonight. I’d like to keep from repeating any parts of our last adventure in the bowels of Mudder Brothers.”
Bowels was the spot-on word for all the crazy crap that went down that night.
I crossed my heart. “Trust me, I don’t want to go inside that funeral parlor with all of its spooky rooms any more than you.”
He released me. “Let’s go see what this is all about.”
While I waited for him at the bumper, I secured my black hat and veil, completing my disguise. “What do you think? Am I sufficiently camouflaged?”
“I think I like your Morticia Addams look much more.”
“How about if I speak French to you? Would that make it better?”
“I don’t know.” He tucked my arm in his and led me across the parking lot. Mudder Brothers night lights acted as a beacon up ahead in the darkness. “Give it a whirl.”
My French was pretty limited. “Bon appétit.”
“Not bad, especially after that meal by the old guy who jilted you. Try some more.”
I wasn’t going to touch that jilted remark with a ten foot pole. “Déjà vu.”
“Yes, I do feel a bit like we’ve done this before. Although last time started out a bit more alarming.”
“Oh là là.”
“I like that a lot. Makes me want to watch your mouth when you say it. Let’s try that one again later when I have you in my bed.”
We were reaching Mudder Brothers’ crematorium-slash-garage. I swung wide, wanting to avoid it now that I knew more about what was inside.
As we drew close to the front door, I threw out one more. “Voilà.”
“Appropriately chosen, ma belle Violet.” He lifted the veil, searching my face. “Oh, Tish. Look at you, so pale and mysterious. Nobody will be looking at the corpse in there.”
That made me snort. “Okay, Gomez.”
He winked and dropped my veil. “Please be careful tonight, cara mia.”
“Oui oui.” I wasn’t sure if he was still in character with that endearment he’d thrown out or not, but it warmed the cockles of my cockles nonetheless. I squeezed his hand. “Good show, old man. Come on.”
“Hey, that’s my line.”
I entered Mudder Brothers first, pausing for a moment in the foyer to remove my smile from behind my veil and slip into a somber act.
Nothing had changed on the inside since the last time I’d been there. Well, other than the removal of George Mudder’s name from the license in the frame on the wall next to the ladies restroom.
Doc had said he’d wait about ten minutes before coming inside, so I made a quick pit stop in the ladies room to make sure my disguise was fully in place and no blonde curls were escaping. I stared through the veil into the mirror. Only my chin was visible. Had I gone too far? Would my mysterious caller even recognize me?
It was time to go see. With one last tuck of my hair, I stepped out and ran right into Rex Conner, the non-support-paying rat bastard. He appeared to be on his way to the men’s room, which was one door down.
“Sorry about that,” he said after I’d extracted my face from his chest. “Are you okay?”
He wore a black suit and a dark red tie, his blond hair perfectly coiffed, his jaw stubble free. Perfect as always on the outside while undoubtedly still rotten to the core on the inside. What in the hell was he doing here?
I kept my chin down so he couldn’t see my face through the veil and lowered my voice. “I’m fine.”
Pulling away before he had the chance to study me further, I made a beeline for the parlor, grabbing a program from the visitor sign-in table on the way. Inside, fifty or so mourners were congregated to pay their respects to Ebenezer, who lay front and center in his silver casket.
I slid into one of the rows near the middle of the room that had three empty seats by the wall lined with a one-way mirrored glass. I purposely took the seat against the wall, wanting to make sure if there were somebody watching from behind the glass, they’d see me. Drawing a handkerchief from my small black purse, I pretended to dab my eyes as I searched the room, on the lookout for my mysterious caller.
Up front Eddie Mudder lurked near the casket, adjusting flowers and toying with the temperature gauges. His infamous organ music that usually creeped me out was missing tonight. Maybe the Haskells had requested a silent viewing.
A dark-blonde, wavy-haired woman in a navy blue suit handled those coming up to pay their respects. She was new at Mudder Brothers, at least new since I’d been there last. Where had Eddie picked her up? Maybe she was a Haskell family member who’d stepped up to keep people moving past the casket. Whoever she was, the mourners seemed at ease with her, taking comfort in her touch.
Now that I had settled in for the show and had nothing to do but wait for my caller to reach out to me, I pondered Rex’s presence here while I scanned the program made up for Ebenezer.
Had someone called him, instructing him to show up tonight, too? Someone who knew Layne was his blood offspring? Or was this all tied to Rex somehow? Had Rex gotten himself into some stupid mess that was going to rain problems down not just on him, but me and mine by association?
Lord, how I’d like to throttle the son of a bitch’s neck and dump him down an old mine shaft. Maybe it was time to get that restraining order that I’d blown off before because he’d moved states away and shown absolutely no interest in the kids.
I glanced over my shoulder and saw Doc slip into a seat a couple of rows back on the other side of the room.
He held my gaze for a second or two, and then opened the program telling all about Ebenezer, his life’s work, and his remaining family.
The churning in my guts slowed, a calm washing over me from knowing Doc had my back.
Through the hazy veil, I searched the room again. Starting with the casket at the front of the room, I looked at each of the other mourners. There were twice as many people at this funeral than had been at the previous two Haskell funerals I’d attended with Natalie and Harvey. Ebenezer must have been popular.
Or had more money to will.
My eyes traveled over the sea of gray, white, brown, and blond heads. The red-headed population had no representatives present tonight. Tiffany should have come. She’d have loved standing out in the crowd.
Okay, that was kind of catty, and I should probably grow up and stop poking fun at the broad just because
she’d tried to steal two of my clients away with her hot body and good looks. Not to mention that she’d had sex with my boyfriend. So what if Doc hadn’t been seeing me at the time; that was splitting hairs.
A mature woman would try to be nice to the ultra-competitive bitch and try not to fantasize about rubbing gum in her flaming red hair or hanging weights off her perky breasts until they sagged or jamming a …
Wait. I was sliding backwards down a slippery slope. I needed to step back and get a clear perspective on reality.
I had Doc. For now, at least.
Cooper might want to shoot me, but he didn’t want to change real estate agents.
Cornelius wanted to keep me around because he’d decided I was his own personal ghost channeling genie.
So, there. Tiffany’s threats were all in her head. I needed to work harder not to let them get into mine.
Someone took the seat next to me.
I scooted over a little to make more room and held the handkerchief up to my face again.
“Nice try, Violet, but I can smell that it’s you under all of that black.” The sound of Rex’s voice made me grind my teeth all over again.
“Go away, Rex.”
“If you’re going to disguise yourself, use a different perfume. Not many women share your scent. Trust me, I know. I’ve been with a few and haven’t found one yet.”
Was that supposed to be romantic? Him sniffing women, looking for a scent match? Ewww. “What are you doing here?”
“I’d think it was obvious.” He pointed at the casket.
“So you didn’t get a phone call?”
“Was I supposed to? Is that how they are inviting mourners to funerals these days? I’d prefer a text, if so.”
I couldn’t decide if he were playing with me or serious.
“Listen, Rex.” I realized I was whispering a little too loud and stopped, shielding my mouth before continuing. “I don’t appreciate this game you’re playing.”
“It’s no game, not when I’ve spelled out exactly what I want from you. I don’t know how to make it clearer.”
“So you threaten my son.”
“What are you talking about?”
“That call.”
“What call?”