I walked straight into the funeral home and called out for Tiffany. I knew it was safe to do so, as Mom was away at one of her many church meetings. This time, she had organized a prayer meeting to pray against Devil’s Food Cake.
Tiffany materialized in front of me, making me jump and gasp. As familiar with ghosts as I was, I would never get used to their sudden appearances.
“What is it?” she asked. “I would say you looked like you’ve seen a ghost, but you know…”
Any other time I would have appreciated the joke, but now I couldn’t even crack a smile. “I think Louise might be your murderer,” I said.
“Louise? Martin’s wife?” Tiffany asked.
“Yes.”
Tiffany floated around to the other side of me. “Whatever would make you think that?”
“Could you perhaps, well, walk?” I asked. “If it isn’t too much trouble. This floating thing kinda freaks me out.”
“Not a problem,” she said, as she lowered her feet to the ground. “Go on, tell me why you think it’s her.”
I took a deep breath and launched into my story. “Well, I was just at Katy the hair stylist, and she told me that Louise found out that Martin and you were having an affair just before you were murdered.”
Tiffany shrugged. “It could be a coincidence.”
I waved my finger at her. “Circumstantial evidence perhaps, but I’ve put it all together now. Louise is the murderer for sure! I’m going to call the cops.”
“Behind you!” Tiffany said urgently, just before she vanished.
“Who are you talking to?”
I swung around to see Louise Kaplan, the last person I wanted to see. She closed the glass doors behind her and took a step toward me. Her face was contorted and menacing, her eyes narrowed and glittery. “You shouldn’t spread rumors in a small country town. Who were you talking to?” She carefully put her bag on the ground. With one hand, she grabbed my wrist with her bony fingers and with the other, snatched my phone and looked at it. “Who were you talking to?” she asked again. “There are no recent calls on your phone.”
I took a step backward. “I was just thinking out aloud.”
She released me and picked up the bag. “So you knew my husband was having an affair?”
This time I couldn’t keep my mouth from hanging open. “Yes,” I managed to say. “And the police already know, too.”
“So? They haven’t arrested me, have they! I was the victim in all this. I’m angry, and my anger hasn’t gone away just because the little tart he was sleeping with is dead,” she said. “I’m sorry if that offends you, but I didn’t much like the girl.”
“I understand,” I said in a conciliatory tone. I had to think of a way out of this, and fast. She wasn’t holding a gun, but she could have any manner of weapons in the big bag she was clutching to her chest. She was blocking my exit, otherwise I would just make a mad dash for it.
Louise jutted out her chin. “I heard you say you figured out I was the murderer. You were about to call the cops.”
“They won’t listen to me,” I said, looking around for something to use as a weapon. There was a huge potted plant, but there was no way I could lift it. There were two paintings on the wall, but I’d have to go past Louise to get them. I was backed up into a corner with no possible way of escape.
“I can’t take that chance,” she said. She reached into her bag and pulled out a large knife. I watched with strange fascination as the long blade reflected the florescent lights overhead. It all seemed surreal.
I’ve seen movies where intended victims manage to talk their way out of situations, but I couldn’t think of a single thing to say. I was doing my best to focus on a way out when I heard a sound in the other room. “Did you hear that?” I asked her. “Someone’s out there.”
“Oh my God!” she said. “Do you think I’m stupid enough to fall for that?” She snarled and made for me with the knife.
Right then, my mother burst through the glass doors and hit Louise over the head with what looked to me to be a large, leather-bound Bible.
“Don’t you take the Lord’s name in vain!” my mother said to Louise, who had fallen to the floor in a heap and appeared to be unconscious.
Mom turned to me. “I’ve called the police. They’ll be here any minute.”
“But, what? How? When?” I stammered.
Mom appeared calm, if not rather offended. “You could at least thank me, Laurel. I heard what Mrs. Kaplan was saying to you, so I called the police. I was waiting in the other room, but when she took the Lord’s name in vain, I knew I had to act.”
I tried to process that, but then thought it better if I didn’t. “Thanks, Mom,” I said dryly, “but I thought you were at church praying against Devil’s Food Cake.”
Mom shrugged. “I was the only one who showed, so I canceled it.”
“What does that tell you?” I said before I could catch myself. She had saved my life, after all, but I wasn’t too happy about her motivation.
“That God works in mysterious ways,” Mom said without missing a beat.
Duncan burst through the glass doors and stopped when he saw Louise lying on the floor, her large knife beside her.
“She intended to kill me,” I said. “She admitted that she killed Tiffany.”
Duncan pulled out his cuffs and bent over Louise, who was regaining consciousness.
Mom picked up her huge black leather-bound King James Bible and examined it for damage. “See, Louise, if I’d used the Amplified Bible or one of those new little versions with the fancy paperback covers, who knows what would have become of you! Let that be a lesson.”
“You lead the craziest life,” I heard a voice say. I turned to see Tiffany standing next to the wall.
“Tell me about it,” I said.
My mom looked at me. “Who are you talking to?” she asked, but fortunately Duncan’s fellow police officer, Bryan, charged into the room at that point.
“Don’t worry, Bryan,” Duncan said as he stood up. “I took care of everything.”
“Like hell you did!” my mother said. She slapped her hand over her mouth.