02 Outwitted Read online

  Beth Solheim

  Outwitted

  OUTWITTED

  A Sadie Witt Mystery

  Book Two

  An Echelon Press Book

  First Echelon Press paperback printing / April 2011

  All rights reserved.

  Copyright © 2011 by Beth Solheim

  Cover illustration © Nathalie Moore

  Echelon Press

  9055 G Thamesmeade Road

  Laurel, MD 20723

  www.echelonpress.com

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. For information, address Echelon Press LLC.

  ISBN: 978-159080-666-1

  eBook: 978-159080-667-8

  For old friends who taught me to

  believe in something more!

  My appreciation to my publisher, Karen Syed,

  for her continued encouragement.

  1

  "You'd think I'd be used to the smell of embalming fluid by now." Sadie Witt fanned her fuchsia fingernails under her nose. She grimaced as the odor hit her again. "At least it hasn't affected my brain."

  "I wouldn't be so sure." Sadie's sixty-four-year old twin sister raised her head and peered over the recipe magazine she had propped against Mr. Bakke's urn. The urn of ashes sat in the center of the kitchen table. "Remember the magazine article? It said the afflicted person would be the last to recognize the symptoms. Aren't you supposed to wear a mask when you use embalming fluid?" Jane sniffed the air. "That's one powerful stink. I thought Nan told you to rinse off when you finished embalming."

  "I did. I toweled everything off. You know how fussy Nan is. The embalming cart glistened like a mirror." Sadie lifted the hem on her hot-pink crop top and took a deep breath. "I hope this smell doesn't ruin my new outfit. I plan to wear it tonight to the Fertile Turtle."

  "You mean you dressed like a floozy for work? That's disgusting."

  "I had my lab coat over it so Nan couldn't see it." Sadie raised the lid on Mr. Bakke's urn and peeked in. "Good morning Mr. Bakke."

  "I'm not going to Senior's Night if you wear that outfit. When you bend over in your mini skirt, you'll clear the dance floor before the band knows what happened." Jane tucked her fists under her elbows. "Look at your hair. What color did Big Leon use? It looks like a flamingo exploded on your head."

  "I'll have you know Big Leon played with colors for twenty minutes before he found the perfect shade to go with my outfit." Sadie picked at her heavily-moussed hair making sure the tapered ends stood erect. "Just because you dress like a cadaver doesn't mean I can't wear color." Jane had no taste whatsoever when it came to fashion. Her twin wore neutral colors to make her voluptuous five-foot-six frame appear smaller. It didn't. "I don't know why you bother to go shopping because all you ever buy is beige. Beige is not a color. It's a disease."

  A twinge of optimism tapped on Sadie's brain. For too long she had endured the shroud of gloom trudging alongside Jane no matter where she went. But this week appeared different. Jane had finally regained some of the spunk she'd lost since Mr. Bakke's tragic death. Although Sadie would have preferred her sister's return to normalcy to lean more toward renewed energy than to sarcasm, Sadie welcomed the barbs once again effortlessly rolling off Jane's lips.

  The fact that Jane considered going to the Fertile Turtle might constitute a miracle. It left Sadie speechless. Not a single crosser showing up at Cabin 14 for over a week might also be a miracle. Crosser free. Not a dead guest in residence. It still concerned Sadie that even after six months Jane refused to discuss the deceitful crosser who triggered Mr. Bakke's demise. Most recently departed who failed to cross over were gentle souls. But once in a while a downright nasty crosser made an appearance.

  "I wonder if all funeral directors are as fussy as Nan. If I follow the rules and keep everything bacteria free, she thinks I'm doing a good job."

  "Did you know the assistant's job would be so complicated?"

  "It's not really complicated. After watching Mr. Bakke assist Nan all those years, I had a pretty clear idea. It's those darn regulations. They don't make me nervous, but Nan worries about a Health Department inspection, so she's forever scrutinizing my work. It drives me nuts."

  "Maybe if you followed directions, she wouldn't check your work."

  Sadie caught a glimpse of movement on the cabin's porch and strode over to the screen door. "Did you notice anything?"

  "Did I notice what?" Jane placed a checkmark next to a recipe in the magazine.

  Sadie put her hand over her eyes to shield the sun. Her gaze scanned from left to right before settling on the swaying porch swing. "I thought I saw a man on the porch."

  Sadie joined Jane at the table. "Offering to assist Nan is the least I can do. It wasn't her fault she lost her helper. I was the murderer's target. Not Mr. Bakke."

  "Are you sure he really wanted you dead?"

  "Of course I'm sure. He wanted me dead so he could cross back over to the other side with me," Sadie explained. "He was too lazy to seek someone on the brink of death by himself, so he decided to take the easy way out. He set the trap to kill me. That worthless bugger intended to encroach on my light. Unfortunately, Mr. Bakke stepped in front of me."

  "I know a horrible circumstance changed our lives forever, but it's not your fault you're a death coach. It must be a hateful job." Adding to Jane's already pinched expression, she continued, "It's not fair you have two jobs and I don't have any."

  "Oh, not this again." Sadie released a weary sigh. "I don't have two jobs. Working as a funeral assistant is my real job. Serving as a death coach isn't a job. It just happened. Don't tell me you don't have a job. You're co-owner of Witt's End Resort."

  "Since we hired a manager, it doesn't seem like a job," Jane said. "I'd rather be busy like you. You're either dealing with the crossers or helping Nan at the mortuary. I sit here and twiddle my toes. Maybe you should find someone else to be a death coach."

  "You know it's my duty to guide them. How else will they learn to cross over?"

  "The fact they couldn't cross over shouldn't be your problem. Let them find their own way." Jane exhaled slowly as she ran her hand lovingly across the back of Mr. Bakke's chair. "It's nice not having any crossers this week. Thanks for spending time with me. It helped me relax."

  "The crossers do take a lot of my time, don't they?"

  "You're just noticing?" A smarter-than-my-twin revelation tweaked Jane's lips before it faded. "It would be easier if I could see them. You know how embarrassed I get when I sit on them." Jane waved her hand toward Belly LaGossa, the rotund canine snoozing on a braided rug. "Even our stupid dog can see them. It's not fair."

  Sadie had to deal with the crossers and Jane lived the life of a normal mortal. That's what wasn't fair. Sadie lived as a mortal, but nowhere near normal. To observers, their twin status wasn't obvious, either. They looked nothing alike. Petite at five feet, if Sadie could get her hands on the man who deemed her a death coach, she'd stuff cheese in his nose. It had to be a man. What sane woman would saddle her with the responsibility of guiding the dead on their final journey?

  Sadie caught another glimpse of movement on the porch and stepped back toward the screen door. "Did you notice anything?"

  "Notice what?"

  A tear rolled down Jane's cheek. Jane's bottom lip bounced in uneven tremors as Sadie put her arms around her sister. "It's not the crossers, is it? It's Mr. Bakke." Sadie pressed her mouth against Jane's temple. Air from her lips softly fluttered Jane's hair. "I know you miss him. I do too. I think about him every day."

  "I do." Jane sobbed deeply. "I can't stand it without him."

  Sadie
rubbed her hand up and down Jane's arm. "If I could have prevented his death, I would have."

  Jane dabbed at her eyes with her apron. "I'll always regret not telling him I loved him the day he died."

  "He knew. Mr. Bakke knew how much you cared about him. He had a good life because of you."

  Belly jerked his head up off the rug and stared at the door. He cocked an ear before drawing in a deep, inquisitive sniff.

  "I'm not looking forward to any new crossers. I hope they're gone for good." Jane dabbed at her eyes again. "I hate dealing with their crap."

  "For your information, it's not crap. It's important," Sadie argued. "You don't have to deal with the crossers. I'm the death coach. Not you."

  "Why can't just one crosser enjoy a peaceful visit for a change?" Jane's voice rose as she finished the question. "They're always in turmoil."

  "That's because they have unfinished business and aren't able to cross over. Death decisions aren't peaceful. They're stressful. Quit worrying about it."

  "Then quit telling me about them."

  "Then quit asking," Sadie snapped back.

  Belly barked and nudged the door with his nose.

  Jane glanced at the screen door. "What do you want, you silly thing? I just let you in ten minutes ago. Go back to sleep."

  Sadie parted the curtain and peered out the window.

  "What's so interesting?"

  "A bare ass." Sadie crossed to the screen door and strained her gaze to see the right end of the porch.

  "Someone in one of those nasty thong swimming suits?" Jane huffed in disgust. "They should be outlawed. I can't imagine how anyone can walk around with a string between their butt cheeks."

  "Well this guy doesn't have one on. All I see is a bare ass." Sadie frowned and turned toward Jane. "Did you read the newspaper this morning?"

  "Yes. Why?" Jane joined Sadie at the screen door.

  "Was Jed Perry's name listed in the obituaries?"

  "Not that I recall." Jane craned her head in the direction Sadie pointed. "Why would his name be listed?"

  "I think Jed's about to join us."

  "Good. I always liked Jed. Do you think he's looking to rent Mr. Bakke's cabin?" Jane pushed Sadie aside and grabbed the door latch.

  "I doubt it. I think he's dead."

  "No! Are you sure?" Jane pushed through the door. "Where is he?"

  "I'm positive. He's standing three feet in front of you with his hospital gown flapping open. He's either dead, or he took a wrong turn in the hospital."

  Jane shook her head slowly as Sadie's words sank in. "Do you realize what that means? Jed's parents never found a trace of his sister since her disappearance. Now you're telling me Jed is dead?"

  Jed Perry's shoulders stiffened and he turned to face the sisters. He hung on to the porch railing with one hand trying to keep a breeze from swirling his hospital gown up around his chest with his other hand.

  He tugged at the fabric. His gaze darted from side to side as fear and confusion clouded his expression.

  "What's going on?" Jed moved closer to Jane. "Why am I at Witt's End?"

  "That's a shame." Jane retreated into the cabin. "Jed was such a nice man. Who'd have ever thought he'd end up in Cabin 14?"

  "Jane?" A puzzled expression channeled Jed's brow. He turned to follow her.

  "Jane can't hear you, Jed. She can't see you either." Sadie held the door open. "You'd better come in."

  Jed looked down at his hospital gown. "What's going on? I'm supposed to be at the hospital. I'm scheduled for surgery." He grabbed at the back of his gown, clasped the edges together, and backed toward the railing.

  "I think you should come in and sit down," Sadie held the door open. She gave a twiddle of her fingers to encourage him toward the entrance.

  "I'm not going anywhere. I want to know what's going on." He patted his index finger over the bridge of his nose. "I'm dreaming. I'm having sinus surgery and I'm hallucinating, aren't I?" He nodded briskly at Sadie. "Aren't I?"

  Sadie shook her head. Watching Jed sort through the terror and uncertainty left her unable to draw a breath. If she faltered, her overwhelming compassion for a friend and neighbor would rob her of the strength she banked on to deal with her new crosser.

  "No, Jed. You're not hallucinating. You need to come with me. I've got something to tell you."

  2

  "They can't see you, Jed." Sadie watched Jed back up against the log siding and tug at the hem on his hospital gown. "Those guests are waving at me, not you." Sadie waited for him to realize stepping inside made more sense than sorting out his predicament with his particulars flapping in the breeze.

  When she first became a death coach, Sadie's impatience flustered her crossers. Her abrupt attitude hampered the crosser's ability to understand why they ended up in Cabin 14 at the Witt's End Resort. After years of trying to zero in on one simple sentence to convince a crosser they no longer fell into the category of the living, she found the answer. There wasn't one.

  Sadie understood her crossers cynical first impressions and endured their bouts of skepticism. However, she refused to tolerate their questions regarding her sanity. She already put up with the local mortals thinking her a bit off-kilter because she talked to imaginary friends. Sadie couldn't help it if she had to give instructions. She was their death coach. That's what death coaches do.

  Belly waddled in behind Jed. Four black hairs protruding out of the tip of his stubby tail circled in staccato motion signaling his excitement. He grunted, flopped down, scratched at the hot-pink bandana around his neck, and rolled on his back waiting for Jed to acknowledge him. Slighted by Jed's lack of interest he pawed at the crosser's leg.

  "What's going on?" Jed backed up against the door out of Belly's reach. "What's going on?"

  "You sound like a parrot. Sit down and I'll tell you what's going on."

  "I'm supposed to be in the hospital. Did they discharge me?"

  "You could call it a discharge. You might call it a celestial discharge." Sadie smiled and pointed at the table. "I know this doesn't make sense, but if you're willing to listen, I'll try to explain."

  Jed kept his gaze on Sadie and carefully skirted her. "What happened to your hair? It's usually not so colorful." As Jed pulled a chair away from the kitchen table, he waved his hand in front of Jane's face.

  Sadie patted her gelled spikes. "There's nothing wrong with my hair. It matches my outfit." She lifted her shirt hem and held it up to her hair for a color comparison. "See?"

  Belly propped his chin on Jed's knee and whined pitifully.

  Jed circled his hand in front of Jane's face again. "How come your dog can see me but Jane can't?"

  "He's not my dog. He belongs to our neighbor." Sadie paused, waiting for Jed's gaze to settle back on her.

  Belly had wandered onto the Witt's End Resort property several years earlier and took up residence with the Witt sisters. Even though Belly bore his role as chief resort hound with an unflappable air, Sadie refused to claim ownership. No sense paying for a dog license.

  Belly's heritage had everyone puzzled. He had long legs, a stubby nose, a rotund body covered in brown spots, and a cropped tail. The dog also had only one testicle.

  "Jane can't see you because you're dead."

  Jed released a heavy breath of resignation and slumped forward in his chair. "Now I know you're crazy."

  Jed had worked as a handyman around Pinecone Landing for years and years. His genteel manner and strong work ethic made residents seek his skills. No task proved too large, too difficult. Sadie held great respect for the six-foot-eight gentle giant. She knew cries of sorrow would ripple through the community when residents learned of his demise.

  Sadie stared into eyes filled with apprehension. Her voice wavered. "Jane can't see you or hear you. Only other crossers, death coaches, or animals can see you. When you didn't cross over to the other side, you became a crosser."

  Jed's mouth hung open as he stared at Sadie. "You've got to be kidding. Ho
w stupid do you think I am?" He dismissed her comment with a flick of his wrist. "If I'm dead, why…" He sat forward in his chair. "If I'm dead, why did I end up here? I've been in Cabin 14 a million times. I unclogged your drain. I sat at your table and ate pie hot out of the oven. I even said prayers over Jane's parakeet when we buried it. I wasn't dead then."

  Jed's challenge echoed through the cabin. The same challenge every crosser offered, the defiance accompanying disbelief. "I know it doesn't make sense. That's why you need to listen. I'm a death coach and it's my job to help you."

  "See, I told you it was a job," Jane chimed in. "You always say you don't have two jobs, but I just heard you tell Jed it's a job. Why don't you admit it?"

  "Find something to do, Jane." Sadie set her jaw set firm with impatience. "Go watch TV or go down to the marina and check on the dock boys while I talk to Jed."

  Witt's End Resort sat on the shore of Pinecone Lake in northern Minnesota. The year-round resort had doubled in size since the sisters assumed ownership thirty years earlier. It featured a motel, fourteen cabins, a thirty-slip marina, a live-bait shop, a gift shop, and a restaurant.

  Harren Funeral Home sat at the edge of the resort property. The Witt sisters had held a land lease on the mortuary and its five acres until Nan Harren purchased it outright a few months earlier. Nan and her eleven-year-old son, Aanders, occupied an apartment in the mortuary originally designed to house mortuary science students. Sadie loved Nan like a daughter. She cared for Aanders like the grandson she wished she had and relished the loving friendship.

  Jed looked from Jane to Sadie and back to Jane. His eyebrows shot up in relieved recollection. "That anesthetic must have been a doosie. They warned me I might have weird dreams. Medication does strange things, you know, but I never thought they'd be this bad." A dry snicker caught in his throat as he forced a laugh. His fingers worked the hem on his gown.