A Ghostly Undertaking by Tonya Kappes Page B

had been on a mission for years to get me hooked up with Sleepy Hollows’ most eligible bachelor. “That boy comes from good stock.”
    â€œNo, the part about you killing Ruthie.” I stood up and paced the veranda. “Everyone in town thinks that you killed her.”
    â€œEmma Lee, why on earth would I kill Ruthie?” She cackled as if it was a farfetched idea.
    â€œWell . . .” I crossed my arms and tapped my shoe, “for starters, you two hated each other and . . .”
    â€œThat’s nonsense,” Granny interrupted and protested as she looked the other way. “Hate is a strong word for a Southern woman to have in her vocabulary, much less use. You must watch what you say and how you say things, Emma Lee.”
    I ignored her and continued, “And she didn’t want to sell the inn and you do!” I pointed at her. There. She had to tell me about the developer now . “When were you going to let me in on the whole new development thing?”
    â€œWhen there was something to tell.”
    â€œAnd having a council meeting based around this wasn’t enough ‘something’ to tell?” I made sure to make the air quotes in the air. Granny always hated them. She said that you should never talk with your hands unless you needed to use sign language.
    â€œEmma Lee, you have enough on your plate to worry about this old inn.”
    â€œAnd the brooch.” I pointed to the ugly-­looking spider. “That was Ruthie’s.”
    Granny hid the brooch with her hand; her mouth dropped open. She gasped, “How did you know about this brooch?”
    â€œIt was in Ruthie’s pre-­arrangements.” I raised an eyebrow. “You should know better than anyone that the client always lists what they want to be buried with.” I reached over and tapped the top of her hand that was still covering the ugly pin. “And that was on her list.”
    A guilty look flushed her cheeks. She batted her lashes. “Earl wanted me to have it.”
    Ruthie and I both waited for the twitch.
    â€œHow did she know I kept it in my shoe box under the pillows in my closet?” Ruthie begged to know.
    â€œHow did you know it was under all of those pillows if you didn’t go through Ruthie’s things?” I asked.
    â€œEmma Lee, first off, I don’t like you accusing me of stealing something that was given to me by my late husband.” She cast down her eyes. I flickered remembering her words about hot-­tempered, redheaded women. “Secondly, how did you know it was in the closet under the pillows?”
    â€œAh, oh.” Ruthie pulled back and looked at me.
    â€œIt was in her arrangement packet on where I could find it.” I lied . . . yet again.
    â€œGood!” Ruthie nodded her head in delight.
    â€œEarl told me.” Lightly, Granny brushed her fingers across it like it was a pet spider instead of a brooch. “He told me that when Ruthie died, I was to keep the brooch.”
    â€œLiar!” Ruthie stomped around the front porch.
    Granny wasn’t lying. Her eyes were as calm as a baby with its belly full. No twitching whatsoever.
    â€œWhat about Hettie?” I threw my hands in the air, giving up on the whole brooch thing. As far as I was concerned, Ruthie had her explanation. Besides, she couldn’t take it with her to the other side, but somehow I knew Earl was going to hear about it once she got ahold of him in the great beyond. “They were talking about you firing her and her quitting. What is that about?” I lied about overhearing someone. I bet if I would’ve kept my big mouth shut at the café, I’d have heard something about the fight.
    â€œObviously she was sticking her nose in some business she had no business sticking her nose in.” Granny was good with words and switching them around to confuse me. “It’s time for dessert.” She got out