Death by Haunting Read Free

casket.
    “Not like the old days is it, Mavis,” croaked June, “when we used to place our dead in the living room until the funeral?”
    “It got to be too much if they died during the summer,” mused Mavis.
    Both ladies cackled.
    “I remember sitting up all night with my grandmother before they put her in the ground,” recalled June.
    “Why did you do that?” I asked.
    Both old crones looked at me as though I were a rather pretty but stupid pet.
    “Robbers,” said Mavis. “They’d steal in your house and take the jewelry right off the dead.”
    “Sometimes, they’d even take the bodies and sell them to medical facilities,” chimed in June.
    “This sounds very Dickensian to me,” I challenged.
    “Only uptown people could afford to let the funeral home keep the bodies until the burial, and even then, a family member would stay to keep an eye on the funeral home staff.
    “In the deep South, the staff would cut the hair and fingernails off the deceased and sell it to the voodoo priests. Sometimes they even cut off fingers to use in dark magic,” detailed June.
    Mavis nodded in agreement.
    “Whatever,” I murmured.
    June went on, “I hope it’s my first husband who comes for me when my time comes. I miss him so.”
    I countered, “I thought the love of your life was Arthur . . .”
    “Shush,” hissed June. “The dead do come for you.”
    Mavis sniffed. “Oh, I see that Josiah is too educated to believe in the old ways, but I can tell you first hand that Terrence died after Mama came for him.”
    June grabbed Mavis’ gnarled hands. “Really. Your mother came for him?”
    I snorted with derision. I don’t know why. Hadn’t Brannon come for me after I had fallen off the cliff and was near death? Why was I being such a booger? Guess I’m ornery, that’s all.
    Both women looked at me with scorn.
    “Tell me what happened, Mavis. I’ve got to know if there’s an afterlife. I’ll be going soon myself and it would be a comfort to know that a loved one would come for me.”
    “That’s just it, June. Terry hated Mama. She always berated him while living. I think it was just an odd choice to send her.”
    I bit my tongue trying to be diplomatic for once. I wanted to know why Mavis didn’t think her mother had come for her. “Why do you think your mama came for Terry?” I asked.
    Mavis blew her nose in an overused hanky. “Something was bothering him. Something fierce, but he wouldn’t tell me what it was. It started after your Valentine party, June. He was happy when we got there and then jumpy afterwards.”
    I suddenly became interested, as the purpose of the Valentine party was to introduce Jean Louis to Bluegrass society.
    I didn’t like Jean Louis. His lips said one thing, but his eyes said something else. Jean Louis was always asking questions, snooping.
    Hey! Wait a minute. That sounds like me!
    I didn’t trust him and had been keeping an eye on him until Matt had been shot, then gave up. I had other priorities.
    “What do you think was bothering him, Mavis?” asked June, greatly concerned. “Did someone say something to Terry that upset him? Had you been cattin’ around on him?”
    Mavis gave a brief smile at the last suggestion. “What a ridiculous idea at my age!” She shook her head. “Like I said, he wouldn’t tell me.”
    “Can you pinpoint exactly during the party when Terry became upset,” I asked. “It might be important.”
    Mavis put a finger to her lips in thought. “Well, I was talking to Mrs. Dupuy about the robbery last Christmas when Terry interrupted us, saying he wanted to go home. He was very insistent.”
    “What had he been doing?”
    Mavis spoke to June. “You know how he loved art. He was going into each of the rooms that were open for the party and looking at the artwork, saving the library for the last to look at your portrait. Of course, the portrait wasn’t finished, but he wanted to see the sketching on the canvas.”
    “Was he coming from