Downright Dead Read online

  “Of course, he didn’t capture an image of a ghost on video. If he had, that would have been valuable.”

  “But—”

  “I understand Inquiring Minds recorded the séance too. Why was his video valuable enough to steal when neither video has photographic evidence of a ghost?”

  “I, uh—”

  “Furthermore, why would anyone push him off the roof if they had what they wanted anyway?”

  Buster scratched his head.

  “Look at the photo of that rooftop,” The judge said. “Do you see one or ten things that could trip a man up in that picture?”

  The judge turned his attention to Holly. “You, young lady, need a lawyer, because I can smell a lawsuit cooking right now.”

  “But he wasn’t supposed to be up there. I warned him and put up signs and everything.”

  “Tell that to your lawyer.” The judge tucked his pajama top in his pants. “I want no more talk about murder just to get your name in the paper unless you have hard evidence, a witness, or a confession. You may be running for sheriff, but you answer to me until then.”

  “Yes, sir,” Buster said.

  “And Holly, if you see your ghost, why don’t you ask him if he saw the victim fall off the roof or if someone pushed him? He’s the only one who will know.”

  Holly nodded.

  “If you’ll excuse me, I have to make a few official comments to your guests.”

  * * *

  “Thank you all for your patience on this very stressful and tragic night,” Judge Maison said to Holly’s guests still gathered in the entrance hall. “As you know, Chief Deputy Sheriff Fulton has been conducting an investigation into the tragic accident that led to the death of a young man far too soon. It’s standard practice to investigate all accidental deaths, and we will continue to do that. His family will need closure, and we want to be prepared to answer their questions. I’ll need you to make yourself available to give your statements.”

  “How long will this take?” Angel asked.

  “We should be able to get the paperwork finished in a day. It takes as long as it takes.” Judge Maison scratched his balding head. “Doesn’t really matter. All this rain today pushed Bayou St. Agnes over the only road out of Delta Ridge. That’s the problem with being a small town situated in the oxbow of the Mississippi and no bridge across it for miles. It’ll be a day or two before it retreats to its banks.”

  “What?” Sylvia shoved her way to the front of the group. “There’s got to be a way out of here.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Holly said. “I’ll comp your rooms, and we have plenty of supplies.”

  The judge nodded. “The only way out will be by boat or high-water vehicle, but those are reserved for emergencies.”

  A collective groan stretched across the entrance hall.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Holly’s bare foot was practically blue from the cold by the time she made it to her room to put on a pair of shoes. Lordy, what a night.

  She staggered through her bedroom to the bathroom in the dark. Something just wasn’t right about this whole thing with Tru, but who was she to argue with the judge or Jake about evidence?

  Tru had obviously fallen from the widow’s walk, which was a whole other problem. A legal one. Acid bubbled in her gut. But she couldn’t think about that right now. She had guests to take care of and more questions to answer downstairs.

  She shucked out of her skirt and blouse, then kicked off her remaining slipper on top of the pile of clothes in the corner of her bathroom. She tugged on a pair of yoga pants and a T-shirt she’d left hanging on a hook on the bathroom door.

  As she washed her face, she tried to make sense of what had happened. It had to be an accident. If someone pushed Tru, I would have seen that person in the hall or on the widow’s walk, wouldn’t I? Yes, I would.

  Holly dried her face then pulled her bathroom door open and flipped on her bedroom light.

  A scream was trapped in her throat as she jumped in a spasm backward and hid behind the bathroom wall. Her heart thudded in her ears.

  Wait. I couldn’t have possibly seen what I saw. No way. She peeked around the door frame.

  Jumping Jehoshaphat!

  Standing in the middle of her bedroom, Burl stood dressed in a white tuxedo like he’d worn for their wedding ten years ago. Not a translucent ghost of her nearly ex husband but a solid image with a silver glow all around it. Holly blinked and clutched her chest.

  He had to be a hallucination from the stress. Exhaustion? Maybe she’d fallen asleep and didn’t know it. She rubbed her eyes.

  Burl was still there. Just like last time he came back. Oh, crapola.

  “Bet you didn’t expect to see me here again, did you?” He opened his arms and gave a sly grin.

  “B-B-Burl?” She stammered.

  “In the flesh.” He glanced down at his body. “Kind of.”

  She gripped the doorframe like a vise. “What are you doing here? Why are you here?” She shook her head as though that would clear her vision. “I don’t understand. You’re supposed to be . . .”

  “In Heaven?” He lifted his hands, palms up, and eyed the ceiling.

  “Yeah. It’s a one-way ticket.”

  He dropped his hands to his sides. “I’m on furlough, kind of.”

  “Who gets a furlough from Heaven?” She pinched her brows together. “Why?”

  “I asked for it,” he said, stuffing his hands in his pockets. His brows slanted down over sad puppy eyes. “Guess you’re not as glad to see me as I am to see you.”

  “Wait. You came just to see me? Can you do that?”

  “Not exactly.” He dug a white patent leather shoe into the rug.

  Holly took a tentative step from the protection of the bathroom door. “Did you get kicked out of Heaven?”

  “No one gets kicked out.” He thumbed his chest. “Not even me.”

  “Lucifer got kicked out.” But Burl was never that bad, although she wouldn’t be totally surprised if Burl was a heavenly washout.

  “Contrary to what you may think of me, I’m no Lucifer.” He ambled to the French doors and looked out the window. “I came here of my own free will.”

  Holly took another step into the bedroom. “You get free will in Heaven?”

  “Up to a point,” he said, but didn’t turn to face her. Could he lie on furlough like the old Burl?

  “Spit it out, Burl.” She slammed her hands on her hips. “Why are you here?”

  He turned on his heels to face her. “I want to earn my wings.”

  “Seriously?” She all but rolled her eyes. He’s got to be making this up. “Like Clarence in that old black-and-white movie we used to watch with Mama at Christmas. It’s a Wonderful Life, right?”

  “Not exactly like that, but sort of.” He sat on the edge of her bed, but the mattress didn’t sag.

  Creepy.

  “Okay.” Holly folded her arms over her chest. “I’ll bite. How do you earn your wings, and do I have to do anything to make that happen?”

  “Glad you asked.” He eased off the bed and paced as he talked. “It’s no secret I barely made the cut to get in that mile-high club, right?”

  Oh, no, he didn’t just refer to Heaven as the mile-high club. She stared at him with her mouth hanging open. “Burl! Do you know what you said?”

  Thunder clapped and shook the house.

  His eyes widened. He slapped his hand over his mouth and looked skyward. “Freudian slip.” He held his hand to his heart. “I swear. You can’t count that one.”

  “Count? What are you talking about?”

  He looked back at her. “Nothing.”

  An old distrust inched up her back. Same Burl. He’s not telling me something and I know it.

  “I’m just saying I know what it’s like to stare down the gates of Hell. Saint Peter thinks it makes me uniquely qualified for an important job that can help me earn my wings.”

  “What job is that?”

&nbs
p; “Fixer.” He puffed out his chest and laced his thumbs under his lapels. “I mean Heaven is great and all that, but I want something to do.” He winked at Holly. “And wings are really cool. You know how I loved to fly.”

  “Okay,” Holly said, drawing the word out. “What does a fixer do?”

  Burl grinned. “I thought you’d never ask.” He held up a finger. “Stay right there. I’ll be right back.”

  He disappeared.

  Whoa. Was that real? She staggered to the slipper chair and eased onto it. He’d come back as a ghost once. She shook her head. Why should she be surprised he’d come back as an angel? Or did he?

  Couldn’t be. I’m asleep. That’s it. She rubbed her cold foot. Or, I’ve finally lost my mind. Of course, Nelda always said that if you think you’re crazy you’re probably not. And if you are crazy, you don’t know it because you’re crazy.

  She sighed. I may not be ready for the psych ward, but this is not normal. Even for me. She leaned back in the chair and closed her eyes. Just very, very tired.

  A chill settled over her as the acrid scent of smoke filtered into her senses. She popped her eyes open and gasped.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Burl stood grinning and as proud as a cat holding a twitching mouse for his owner in the middle of her bedroom on her best heirloom rug. He held a semitranslucent Tru by the collar.

  “I’m b-a-c-k,” Burl said in a singsong voice.

  “What the . . .” Holly stammered as she skittered behind her slipper chair for protection. “Why? And why on earth did you bring him back?”

  “I heard you needed a ghost.”

  She shooed them away with both hands. “Take him back right now!”

  “You!” Tru lunged for Holly.

  She shrank into the corner. Holy moly.

  Wild eyed, he fought against Burl’s grip.

  “Relax, bud.” Burl tightened his grip on Tru. “I’m one of the good guys.” He threw a glance her way. “She is too.”

  “I don’t care who you are.” Tru clawed at Burl’s grip with blackened fingernails. “Get your hands off me.”

  “Ingrate.” Burl held him at arm’s length and eyed Holly. “Can you believe this little pile of . . .”

  Tru’s singed hair stood on end as though he’d stuck his finger in an electrical socket. Soot marked his cheeks and forehead, and his coat hung in tatters.

  “Mercy!” Holly grabbed two fists full of her hair and mashed them to her skull to keep from pulling her hair out by the roots. “Why did you bring him back?” Was this payback for faking a ghost? Oh, good gravy.

  “He didn’t bring me back,” Tru shouted. “Look at me. I’m dead.”

  “But you’re in a better place,” Burl said.

  Tru screwed up his brows. “Huh?”

  “Get it?” Burl slapped his knee. “Better place. Haven’t you heard that before at a funeral?”

  Tru hung his head and sighed. “Not funny, man.”

  Holly almost felt sorry for Tru.

  “Sorry, bud. Afterlife humor.” Burl let go of Tru’s collar and slapped him on the back. “You’ll get used to it.”

  “When?”

  “You’ve got all of eternity. That depends on you.” Burl nodded toward Holly. “And her.”

  “Me?” She pointed to her chest and shook her head. “Not again. How can you do this to me?”

  “You’re kidding me, right?” Tru said. “She’s the reason I’m dead.”

  “How can you say that?” Holly wagged a finger at Tru. “I told you it wasn’t safe up there. I warned you about what happened to Mackie. If you hadn’t broken the rules, you wouldn’t have fallen off the widow’s walk.”

  “I did not fall.” Tru glared at her. “I was pushed.”

  Holly froze for a second. “But . . .”

  She slumped against the slipper chair. The last sliver of hope that this was all just a terrible accident rushed from her. So it was true. One of her guests was a murderer. She’d suspected it all along but didn’t want to believe it. “Who did it?”

  “If I saw the person, do you think I would’ve let anyone push me off the roof without taking that person with me? Some coward sneaked up behind me and pushed me over.” He scowled at her and took a step forward. “It could have been you.”

  Burl grabbed him by the collar. “You can rest easy on that one, bud. If she was ever going to kill anyone it would have been me.” Burl’s eyes softened. “But she didn’t.”

  “What do I have to do to get Tru where he needs to be?” Holly asked.

  “Here’s the deal.” Burl clapped Tru on the back. “Old Tru here couldn’t accept the fact that he was in that place where he could go either way.” Burl made a thumbs-up, then a thumbs-down motion.

  Holly recalled Tru being sucked into a red-hot hole in the earth and shuddered.

  Tru groaned. “I wasn’t exactly prepared to die.”

  “Who is?” Burl quipped. “Anyway, he got sucked down under, and I don’t mean to Australia. Saint Pete wasn’t ready to let him go, so he sent me to fix it.”

  “You’re going to fix,” Holly gulped, “him?”

  Burl gave Tru the once-over. “Not exactly.”

  “So why am I still here?” Tru picked at his singed hair. “Why didn’t you just fly me up to Heaven with you?”

  “Don’t rub it in, bud. I’m going to get those wings,” Burl cocked an eye at Tru. “Unless you belong where I found you.”

  “You mean I could go back down there?” Tru asked.

  “Or take the highway to Heaven.” Burl shrugged. “Or hang out as a ghost forever. Not my call.”

  “Wait a minute. You don’t mean he could be stuck here with me.”

  “That’s above my pay grade, too,” Burl said. “All I know is I made a deal with the gatekeeper down there. He’ll trade Tru for the soul of whoever is responsible for his death.” Burl tilted his head forward and eyed her. “He’ll collect on his time. Y ’all figure that out any way you can.” Burl glowed a moment, then disappeared leaving her with the ghost of the worst houseguest she’d ever had and a murder to solve.

  Just peachy.

  * * *

  “I don’t trust you,” Tru said, as he followed Holly across her bedroom.

  “Well, I don’t like you,” Holly said without so much as a sideways look at him on the way to her bedroom door. She didn’t have time for any of this. Jake needed to know right away that Tru was positively pushed off the widow’s walk and one of her guests did it. Her stomach pinched a bit. She wasn’t looking forward to telling him she had another resident ghost and Tru’s death was no accident. With her hand on the doorknob, she looked over her shoulder.

  Tru stood, arms crossed, with a pout of a two-year-old.

  Holly whirled around to face him. Sucking in a breath, she matched his body language as they had a stare down.

  He snorted. “That’s brutal.”

  “I’m working on honesty because lying gets me in trouble.” If she’d just admitted Burl was gone, would Tru have come to debunk her ghost? Nope. He’d still be alive. Even though she didn’t push him off the roof, she felt responsible. Somehow, she was going to make this right, even if she didn’t like him one iota.

  “I can handle it.” Tru faded a bit. “No one likes me.”

  Holly patted her foot. “No one? What about your mother?”

  “Dead.” His image flickered.

  “Father?” She asked.

  “Dead,” he said matter-of-factly.

  “Do you have any family?”

  “Nope.”

  Her heart dipped into the pool of loneliness she’d felt since she’d lost Mama and Grandma Rose, the last of her small family. Crapola. I don’t need to feel sorry for this guy. “Friends?”

  “Real or online?”

  “Real.”

  “Just my fish.” He shrugged. “Guess they’ll die too.”

  “Fish. That’s it?” No need to ask about a girlfriend. At least she didn’t have to fac
e his family after what happened. “I’m not surprised. You could really use some work on your social skills.”

  “Social skills are overrated.”

  She had to get rid of this guy fast. “I’ll call an animal shelter and see if I can get your fish rescued.”

  “Why would you do that?”

  “It’s the right thing to do. Just like figuring out who pushed you off the widow’s walk.” She cocked her head to the side. “Speaking of which, we need to set a few rules if we’re going to work together to get you where you need to be.”

  Tru’s image faded a bit.

  “Are you okay?” she asked.

  “Do I look okay?” He bugged his eyes out and swept down his singed clothes with a flourish. “I’m a freakin’ ghost, which do not exist according to metaphysical science.”

  “See, you should trust me. You thought I was lying about Burl, but—

  “Duh.” He shook his head. “Don’t rub it in. I got it, but I don’t have to like it.”

  “It’s just when Burl was a ghost and he faded like that, he—he disappeared for a while.”

  “Where did he go?”

  Holly shrugged. “He said it was like a black hole or something.”

  “As long as it’s not where I was.”

  “I want you out of here, so I need you to help me figure out who pushed you.”

  “You could have knocked me off the roof as easily as anyone else here.”

  “A testament to how many people you’ve totally teed off and why you don’t have any friends.”

  “Ha. Ha. What if you don’t want to find my killer because it’s you?”

  “They do have the death penalty here in Louisiana.” She pointed a finger at him. “You are not worth dying for, a life sentence, or my eternal damnation.”

  “You probably didn’t plan to get caught.”

  “You don’t have to believe me or trust me.”

  “Good, because I don’t.”

  “Not that you care, but whoever murdered you is under this roof. I’m not letting anyone get away with murder at Holly Grove.”

  “Unless it’s you.”