Crack Of Death (A Rainy Day Mystery Book 3) Page 9

  “I am here to pay my respects,” Lila announced. “Which is more than I can say for you!”

  Carol’s eyes widened. “How dare you say that?”

  Lila gave a short, little laugh. “How do I dare? Just look at you, picking a fight with poor George. And at a funeral, no less.”

  Declan wore a pained expression as he inserted himself between the two women. “Lila, it’s lovely to see you,” he said, smiling at the purple-clad woman. “Why don’t you go in and take a seat? The service will be starting shortly.”

  Lila glared at him but he just smiled and nodded toward the sanctuary door. She huffed and threw one last glare in Carol’s direction before limping through the door.

  Declan turned his attention to Carol. “I know this is hard for you. It’s going to be a hard day for a lot of folks here in Latney. And everyone needs the opportunity to grieve or pay respects to Greta in their own way. Friends, acquaintances…” His voice trailed off, but the implication was there: enemies, too.

  Thankfully, Carol took the hint. She played with the collar of her black silk blouse, fingering the black pearl button at the base of her throat. “Fine,” she finally said, sighing. “I understand. And I’m sorry.”

  This time, Declan’s smile was genuine. “Don’t apologize. Today isn’t the day for that. Today belongs to Greta.”

  My throat constricted a little at his sentiments. He always seemed to know just what to say, and just what to do to diffuse a situation or to offer help. It was one of the things I loved best about him.

  Loved. I shook my head. Liked. It was one of the things I liked best about him.

  Carol sniffled and reached for a handkerchief hanging out of her purse. She dabbed her eyes and her nose, which was the color of a cherry tomato, and then stuffed it back in place.

  Everyone had followed Lila’s lead into the sanctuary, and Carol positioned herself in line. I moved in behind her when the main door to the church opened again.

  An elderly Superman stood in the doorway, his hands perched on his hips, his red cape billowing behind him.

  To his credit, Declan somehow managed to keep his composure.

  “Calvin,” he said, smiling at the costumed man. “How nice of you to join us. We were just heading into the sanctuary.”

  Calvin puffed out his chest. He was wearing a blue unitard with a handmade Superman logo pasted on to his chest. Instead of red underwear, he wore red boxers pulled up over his ample belly, along with a pair of red tights. He’d dyed his white hair black—with temporary color, I hoped—and he’d tried his best to fashion it into his best Christopher Reeve-esque hairstyle.

  “I made a couple of calls yesterday,” he said as he headed toward us. “Found out Superman was Greta’s favorite character. Figured the least I could do was show up for her funeral and give her a proper send off.”

  “That’s, uh, very kind of you,” Declan said. There were splotches of hair dye down Calvin’s neck, and I knew he was trying hard not to look at them. “Why don’t you join us in the sanctuary?”

  Calvin walked uneasily, his hands out almost as if for balance.

  “Are you okay?” I asked, stepping a little closer to him.

  He squinted at me. “Oh, I’m fine. Left my glasses in the car and I can’t see a darn thing.”

  “Do you want me to go get them for you?”

  He shook his head vigorously, and his carefully arranged hairstyle miraculously stayed in place. “Not a chance. Superman doesn’t wear glasses!”

  “But Clark Kent does,” I pointed out.

  He nodded. “Yes, but today I am Superman.”

  I couldn’t help but smile. Calvin was goofy and eccentric, but seeing him dressed as Superman, and for the reason he proclaimed, was exactly what I needed in that moment. It was probably what we all needed.

  I offered him my arm. “May I be your Lois Lane?” I asked.

  His face lit up. “Why, certainly,” he said as he hooked his arm through mine. “Today, and when we film my next movie.”

  I chuckled.

  If anyone could convince me to dress as a news reporter and star in a one-man movie, I was pretty sure it was Calvin.

  EIGHTEEN

  The dog stayed quiet, Lila and Carol did not end up in a fistfight, and Superman didn’t need to save anyone.

  As Greta’s service came to a close, I called that a success.

  Declan had struck just the right tone for the service. He spoke briefly about Greta’s life, reading some scripted remarks from her daughter, Heidi. He ended with a couple of personal stories of his own time with her at various church events, and he told these with sincerity and affection. I watched him with admiration as he delivered his remarks. Gone was the pastor who’d fumbled at times with his words during his Sunday sermons. Here, speaking passionately about a church member he so clearly loved, he was a different man. Confident. Inspiring.

  A weird feeling of pride washed over me.

  Mabel had returned from her trip to North Carolina, and she sang the closing hymn as we all filed out of the rows of pews and back into the foyer. Declan had announced there would be a small reception in the fellowship hall prior to a private interment.

  I had one foot out of the sanctuary when I spied Sheriff Lewis lurking by the front door. I hadn’t noticed him at the service, but since I was sitting in one of the front pews, there was a good chance I simply hadn’t seen him. He was dressed in his uniform of white shirt and khakis, his sheriff badge pinned to his chest. His trusty pipe was tucked in his shirt pocket and he reached for it as soon as he saw me. He pulled it out as he headed my way.

  “Surprised to see you here,” he remarked, fixing me with a steely stare.

  “Oh?” I tried to strike a noncommittal tone. “Why is that?”

  His moustache twitched. “No reason.”

  I smiled sweetly. Or at least I tried to. “Have you made any headway with the investigation?”

  He snorted. “As if I’m going to tell you.” His gaze moved from me to something behind me and he straightened and nodded.

  I turned to see who he was looking at, and instantly knew. Heidi, Greta’s daughter.

  I’d noticed her during the service, sitting alone in the front row. I was seated to her right, one row back, but the angle of the sanctuary allowed a partial view of her throughout the service. She’d sat ramrod straight, her eyes trained on Declan the whole time. I’d admired her composure as she sat through the eulogy, and wondered where she was drawing her strength from.

  I looked at her now, speaking with people who were offering their condolences. She had shoulder-length brown hair parted straight down the middle, and rather severe looking features: a sharp nose, high cheekbones, thin lips. I thought about what Greta looked like, her curly white hair and her face a map of soft, leathery wrinkles. It was hard to draw a resemblance from the woman standing in front of me to the woman I’d found in the chair.

  Heidi looked up, and noticed me staring at her. She offered an uncertain smile and I stepped forward.

  The sheriff leaned down as I made to leave. “You best behave yourself, Miss Day. I’ll be watching you.”

  I approached Heidi with what I hoped was a warm, sympathetic smile. “Heidi, right?” I asked, extending my hand.

  She held hers out and we shook. Her grip was surprisingly firm. “Yes,” she said, nodding. Her features were even sharper, more hawk-like, up close. “And you are Rainy. The woman who found Mother.”

  I shifted uneasily. “I am,” I said. “I’m so sorry about your loss.”

  Heidi’s thin lips spread into an even thinner smile. “Don’t be,” she said. “Mother is right where she needs to be.”

  “Yes,” I said, nodding, even though it felt like a peculiar thing to say. “In heaven,” I added.

  Heidi affirmed my words. “Yes. In heaven. With my father.”

  Now, normally, I thought people looked forward to going to heaven to be with Jesus and their Heavenly Father. At least that was what
I’d been taught through my very limited knowledge of religion and the afterlife.

  “Your father?” I repeated. “I’m sorry…has he passed, too?” As soon as I said it, I had a vague recollection of Declan telling me this a couple of days earlier.

  Heidi gave a slight nod. “Almost three years ago.” She was holding a program for the service in her hand and she used this to fan herself, even though it felt relatively cool in the foyer. St. Simon’s was an old church but it did its job with keeping the temperature at a comfortable level.

  “I’m sorry.” I sounded like a broken record, but I didn’t think there was much else to say in situations like these. “It’s never easy to lose someone you love.”

  I wanted to kick myself at the corny platitude that had just left my lips, but I was struggling finding the right words to say. Maybe there simply weren’t any.

  “It isn’t easy,” Heidi said. The smile was gone and a hint of sadness flashed in her eyes before she regained her composure. “But like I said, she’s where she belongs now.”

  I was glad Heidi was at peace with her mother’s death. I wondered if she had been filled in on the suspicious details the sheriff had inadvertently shared with me and Declan. Based on her current state, I leaned toward no. I could understand if she found comfort knowing her mother was in heaven, but I still thought she’d be a little upset if she knew Greta had gotten there prematurely, and had had a little help in getting there.

  And I thought she’d be even more upset if she thought that I had somehow been involved.

  NINETEEN

  Carol and I were washing dishes.

  The reception had ended and I’d offered to stay and help clean up. Declan and Heidi had left with a couple church members for the private funeral, and the fellowship hall had slowly emptied out until just the two of us remained.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to go?” I’d asked Carol. “To the funeral?”

  Carol pursed her lips and shook her head. “I wasn’t invited.”

  I frowned. “Oh.”

  Carol grabbed paper napkins and plates, stacking them into a haphazard pile. “It’s fine,” she told me. “Heidi wanted a private thing. They did the same when Nelson died.”

  “Nelson?”

  “Greta’s husband. He passed a few years ago. Pancreatic cancer.”

  She didn’t seem slighted by the lack of invitation, which was a good thing. We’d gathered up the rest of the paper products and then headed into the kitchen attached to the hall to wash coffeepots and empty cookie and pastry trays.

  Carol plunged a serving tray into the sink full of soapy water. She ran the dishcloth over the surface, scrubbing at the crumbs left behind. She rinsed it and then put it in the oversized dish drainer, where I plucked it out and dried it off.

  “Heidi seems to be doing okay with everything,” I commented as I stacked the tray onto a pile of other clean ones. They were cafeteria-style trays, red faded to a dull orange, and they’d been lined with scalloped paper liners to dress them up a little.

  Carol dropped a handful of silver tongs into the sink. “Oh, I’m sure she is,” she said. She scrubbed at a pair of tongs, removing bits of crumbs and dried chocolate. “As far as Heidi is concerned, Greta is right where she is supposed to be. Back with Nelson.”

  I’d heard essentially the same words from Heidi. “I take it she was pretty upset when her father died?”

  Carol rinsed the tongs and set them in the dish drainer. “I don’t really know,” she told me. “What I do know is that she was very upset when Greta started dating after Nelson died.”

  The tongs were hot and I wrapped the towel around them so it wouldn’t come in contact with my fingers. “Why is that?”

  “The whole ‘death ‘til us part’ was never good enough for Heidi,” Carol said, shaking her head. “She thought marriage lasted beyond the grave, that her mother should remain faithful to her husband’s memory.”

  I frowned. That sounded like a lonely existence, especially for a widow or widower who might outlive their spouse by years or decades, even. “But what about Greta? I assume she wanted to date?”

  She set another pair of tongs in the dish drainer. “I don’t think she did, initially. From what I’d heard, she loved Nelson very much. They had a very good marriage. But I think she got lonely, and George started paying attention to her.” She looked at me and smiled. “No matter how old you get, the attention from a man can be very flattering.”

  I smiled back. Carol might have had a couple of decades on me in the age department, but I definitely knew what she was talking about. I found Declan’s attentions flattering, and Gunnar…even though he was no spring chicken himself, he still somehow managed to make me weak in the knees on occasion.

  “When Heidi got wind of it, she was furious,” Carol continued. She was hunched over the sink, scrubbing out a coffeepot. “Couldn’t understand why Greta would turn her back on her marriage vows.”

  “But her marriage vows died with her husband.”

  “Not according to Heidi,” Carol responded. She turned the water on and filled up the pot, swirling the water inside to rinse out the suds. “The last several months have been pretty rough between them.”

  I waited for the pot to come my way, then reached for it to dry it off. “I thought George and Greta broke up, though?”

  Carol nodded. “They did. But by then, the damage had been done. Heidi was barely speaking to Greta.”

  I wondered how that decision sat with Heidi now. If she’d held a grudge against her mother for dating another man and not being true to her husband’s memory, was she regretting it now that her mother was dead? I knew that if it had been me, I would have. But then again, I wouldn’t have found myself in that situation in the first place.

  “So they weren’t talking? At all?”

  Carol pulled the stopper and the water rushed down the drain. She wrung out the dishcloth and draped it over the faucet. “Oh, Heidi still came by once or twice a week, but it was purely in a caregiving way. She took Greta to her appointments, and she made sure to pick up her medicines and get them sorted for the week. She was there most Sundays, getting everything set for the week. But there was very little conversation or warmth; at least not from what I saw.”

  My heart ached in a new way for Greta. I hadn’t known her at all, but she’d obviously been going through a rough period with her daughter. I was a bit less sympathetic toward Heidi, and a part of me hoped that she was at least feeling a little regretful over the state of her relationship with her mother.

  I finished drying the last of the dishes and Carol and I both moved back into the hall area for one last pass-through. There was a paper napkin on the floor, but otherwise, the room was spotless. It was hard to believe that it had been filled nearly to capacity just an hour earlier.

  The room was furnished with cafeteria tables and Carol sank down on one of the benches. “Thank you for staying and helping,” she said.

  She rubbed her temples and tried to offer a smile, but I could see that she was tired and sad.

  “No need to thank me,” I said. “It was the least I could do.”

  “No,” she told me, “the least you could do was not show up. But you did. So thank you. I know you didn’t know Greta while she was here, but I’m pretty sure you would have liked her. And I have a feeling she would have liked you, too.”

  Her words warmed my heart. “Thank you.” I studied her for a moment. She was wearing make-up but no powder or foundation could hide the exhaustion and sadness reflecting in her eyes.

  “Are you okay?” I asked. “Do you want me to stay with you for a little bit? Or go somewhere? For coffee or something?”

  Tears welled in her eyes and she quickly looked away, shaking her head. “No, I’ll be fine. I…I need to get through this on my own.”

  “Are you sure? I’m happy to stay.”

  Carol shook her head. “I just…I just need time. To come to terms with everything that has happened. Tha
t’s all.”

  “Okay,” I said uncertainly. “If you’re sure.”

  “I’m sure.” She tried to make her voice sound firm, but I wasn’t buying it. But I also didn’t know her well enough to press the issue either.

  Reluctantly, I reached for my purse and dug out my keys. “Alright, then. I’m sure I’ll see you around, especially with Dorothy Days and the quilt competition coming up.”

  When she glanced at me, I said, “I signed up to volunteer. I don’t know what I’ll be doing yet, but the meeting is this weekend.”

  Carol nodded. Her eyes darted in my direction before she glanced down at her hands. “Have you heard anything about the…cause of death?”

  I felt my pulse ratchet up a notch. Had she heard rumors about the sheriff’s suspicions? And if she had, then who else knew, too?

  “Excuse me?” I asked lightly.

  Even from where I was standing, I could see her swallow hard. “I heard the sheriff talking earlier today. He said something about an investigation.” She looked up at me with wide, worried eyes. “They don’t think something bad happened to Greta, do they?”

  My throat felt dry. I didn’t know what to tell her. One, I was certain that the sheriff had told me more than he’d intended when he’d let it slip that Greta had been poisoned. And two, I didn’t want Carol to know that he was considering me a potential suspect.

  “I don’t really know,” I said, which was the truth. The sheriff hadn’t given me specifics, and based on his past history of inept investigative skills, I wasn’t sure he knew what he was doing with this particular case, either. Carol still looked worried so I added, “I’m sure it was natural causes. We have no reason to think otherwise, right?”

  She nodded, a look of relief crossing her face. “I would hate to think of anything…sinister happening to her. She was such a sweet, kind woman.” Her voice broke a little and she cleared her throat.

  “I don’t think you have anything to worry about,” I told her.