A Ghostly Murder by Tonya Kappes Page B

Preston was what got into you, I wanted to say, only I knew I couldn’t.
    â€œEmma Lee.” Mamie stepped between me and Dixie. “Don’t you dare let anyone eat a bite of my chess pie. Dixie had no right giving my recipe to that, that, that . . .” Mamie turned toward Beulah, who was still in the back of the viewing room where we’d left her. “That hillbilly with money. She stole my pie recipe!” Mamie tugged on the hem of her jacket, gathering her wits.
    â€œSo you work for Beulah Paige?” I asked.
    â€œI do,” Dixie said between slurps. She handed her cup over the table for one of the Auxiliary women to refill it.
    â€œHow long have you been working for Beulah Paige?” I asked, wondering when Beulah Paige got a maid. Even more, when Beulah decided to bake anything, much less chess pie.
    â€œNot long.” Dixie’s words were short and sweet.
    â€œWoo-­hoo, Dixie,” Beulah Paige waved a few envelopes in the air.
    â€œExcuse me.” Dixie and her tea walked off. “I need to distribute the Auxiliary invitations for her.”
    â€œAuxiliary invites?” I put my hand on Dixie. “Is it that time of year again?”
    In order to be a member of the Auxiliary Women’s Group, you had to be invited by the leader. When Ruthie Sue Payne died, the women voted Beulah Paige as the new gossip queen . . . er . . . president. Another time Granny was knocked out of running for something else.
    â€œI guess.” She shrugged and pulled away.
    I watched Beulah hand Dixie the invites and utter a few words, which I could only imagine were instructions. Beulah had a funny way of doing things. She called them the proper way; I called it rich ­people’s way of doing things. It didn’t seem too proper to be handing them out at a funeral, and that was my opinion.
    â€œI hope you have one of those for me,” I said with a big smile on my face when Beulah walked up to get a glass of iced tea.
    â€œEmma Lee,” Beulah pulled her lips into a tight smile. “Not this year. I remember you received a generous offer last time and didn’t take it.”
    â€œI’m going to accept this time,” I responded matter-­of-­factly.
    â€œNo.” Her smile was still tight to her face. “Not this time.”
    Dixie walked by, about to hand out her first invite to Hettie Bell.
    â€œYou don’t want to do that.” I patted her arm. “We don’t allow solicitations of any sort at funerals. It’s not polite.” My eyes slid to Beulah. “And Jack Henry is right over there if I need him.”
    We all turned and looked at Jack Henry. Not his finest moment. His mouth dripped with barbecue sauce from his pulled pork sandwich. He gave a slight wave. I waved back as though he knew what I was doing. It was best to leave him in the dark about my little blackmail scheme.
    â€œTree!” Beulah pointed to Granny, and then pointed to me. “Apple!”
    â€œWhat?” For a second, I thought she knew about the apple pie!
    â€œThe apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree,” Beulah spat. Her fists balled.
    She grabbed an envelope and handed it to me before she pulled down the black veil and huffed off in a different direction.
    â€œNice going.” Mamie folded her arms next to me. “Now, let’s go put that platter back.”
    Ahem, I cleared my throat.
    â€œI hate to say it, but Zula Fae is right.” She lifted her cane in the air. “No one is at Burns, they are here. And that little hot hunk of yours is stuffing his mouth. You aren’t on anyone’s radar. Beulah wants to stay as far away from you as possible. Plus . . .” Her fine silky eyebrows rose a trifle. “You can look for my file. Grab my teeth.”
    It only took me a half a second to go back in the media room, grab the platter and dart out the back door.
    â€œYou are going to