by Sara Blaedel
“Can you give them to Artie?” Ilka asked, as she was about to unload the coffin.
“I think she needs to talk. Your father probably spent more time talking to people than anything. It’s important for relatives to be able to talk about those they’ve lost. And you are like your father; you’re good at that.” Ilka wasn’t one hundred percent sure the nun meant that last remark.
“Of course,” she said. On the way into the house she glanced down at herself; her blouse and dark blue jeans would have to do. After all, they hadn’t scheduled a meeting.
In the arrangement room, Mike’s mother sat at the table with an open photo album beside her coffee cup. Ilka noticed the picture of her son, smiling broadly at the camera. “I just came from the police station. They say they’ll find out who did it. But who does these kinds of things?”
She was hurting badly. Ilka walked over and gave her a hug before sitting down across from her and pouring herself a cup of coffee.
“How could anyone hate him so much? And after so many years?” Shelby looked imploringly at Ilka, then shook her head. They sat for a moment in silence; then she twined her fingers together in her lap and fidgeted; it looked like she was working up the nerve to say something.
“I didn’t tell the police everything. I didn’t know if it could harm my son. But after what happened last night, I think I might have to.”
Ilka scooted forward and laid her hands on the table. “What do you mean?”
Shelby squirmed in her chair. When she finally spoke, she stared at Ilka, her eyes radiating pain and something else Ilka couldn’t put her finger on.
“My son was paid to leave town. I didn’t know about it back then. I thought he left because he was ashamed. Everyone thought that. But someone gave him money. A lot of money. So he could start a new life. He told me that the last time I talked to him. He’d changed his name to Mike Miller.”
She hid her face in her hands and breathed deeply to calm herself down. Ilka reached over the table, but Shelby didn’t take her hand.
“I hate this town,” she whispered, spitting each word out. “I regret every single day that I went out on the evening I met my kids’ father. We were both going to Wisconsin Parkside. I hadn’t noticed him before, but all of a sudden, he was standing there, and, well…”
A few moments later she explained she came from Chicago, where her parents and sister still lived. “But Tommy was from Racine, and when I got pregnant we bought the house here and had two kids. Emma was a year and a half when he took off. He ended up somewhere in Ohio.”
She breathed deeply again. “When Mike left, I thought for a while he’d moved in with his dad. But when I finally got hold of Tommy’s phone number and called, he said he hadn’t heard from Mike. And Mike wasn’t welcome, either, after what he’d done. It was in all the papers.”
“But you stayed here after he left you?”
Shelby nodded. “I had the house. And where could I move to? Back home with my parents?” Her lips quivered, partly from bitterness. Ilka shook her head.
“And I couldn’t move when Mike disappeared, either; he wouldn’t know where to find us. I feel like I’ve been tied to this place.”
They sat for a moment in silence. “Who paid your son to disappear?” Ilka asked. “Did he say?”
Mike’s mother shook her head. “I don’t know. But I’ve always been sure he didn’t kill her. He was so happy. No matter what I thought about Ashley Simpson, she made my son happy. Besides his afternoon job at the shop, Mike worked three evenings a week, at this Italian restaurant down by the harbor that closed several years ago. When he came home the evening it happened, he was in a good mood; he acted completely normal. He might even have been in a better mood than usual. They’d given him permission to bring Ashley along to the restaurant’s Thanksgiving dinner, and already he was talking about what he was going to wear, even though it wasn’t for another week and a half.”
She shook her head. “The next day he went to school, just like always. But he was home in less than an hour, down in the living room. White as a sheet. He couldn’t tell me what happened. I’d just had a shower, and I was on my way out the door; I had to go to work. Back then I was working full-time sorting mail. I still work there.”
By now the coffee was cold, and Ilka offered her another cup, but she declined.
“He broke down, completely. He insisted on going to the police, telling them he and Ashley had been together the day before. I tried to talk him out of it—what good would it do? But he wouldn’t listen. He said someone pushed her, because she hadn’t been out on the ice. She was up in the fisherman’s cabin, where they’d been together. It wasn’t any accident.”
Shelby shook her head again, as if the rest of the story wasn’t important. But she continued. “It was like the whole town decided it was him, even though everyone knew there were others besides Mike, then and before.”
After waiting several moments, Ilka said, “What others?”
“Like they say, she got around.” Shelby spoke quietly, as if she wasn’t sure she should let Ilka in on the town’s gossip back then. “There were stories about the men Ashley attracted. And it wasn’t just teenagers. They say she went after older men, and men with money. And yet she wanted my Mike. I didn’t understand what she was up to, but maybe she really did like him.”
Ilka leaned a bit farther forward. “Are you saying she was doing it for money?”
Shelby straightened up, shocked now. “No, definitely not. I just think she liked the power she had over men who fell in love with her.”
Jealousy, Ilka thought. If the young girl had been easy, it wouldn’t have been the first time in history that a boyfriend or girlfriend lost their head.
“If you only knew how much hate there is in this town,” Mike’s mother said. She folded her hands in her lap again. When people heard that Mike had been the last one Ashley was with, they broke out all the windows in their house, she explained. “People threatened us; they wrote the most horrible things on the outside of our house. At first, Emma didn’t dare go out alone. But after her brother left, things settled down, thank God. Like people were satisfied with running him out of town. We weren’t welcome in our own church, either.”
She held her head and breathed deeply, all the way down into her stomach. “I can’t stand thinking about someone who hated my son so much, just walking around out there. How could anyone kill him? And last night, how could they…”
Ilka felt the woman’s loneliness, an icy chill slinking across the table “How did Ashley’s family react back then?”
“They were angry and heartbroken, of course. Her mother died a few years ago, but the police have talked to her father. He moved to a nearby town five or six years ago, when he and his wife divorced. She had a brother, but he left Racine a long time before this happened. The police officer said they’re trying to find him.”
Mike’s mother stared blankly for a moment; then she laid her hand on the photo album. “Artie promised I could see my son. I brought along the pictures he asked for.”
Ilka stood up. She was relieved the conversation was over, but Shelby’s story also confused her. “I’ll tell him you’re ready.”
The woman nodded, but she seemed uneasy. Her eyes darted toward the door, as if she didn’t feel quite ready after all.
“Here, please, have one.” Ilka slid the bowl of chocolates across the table. As if that helped. “He’ll be here in a moment.”
She hurried out the door. She felt like a coward.
19
Ilka kept knocking on the door of the preparation room until Artie finally came out. “I can’t let anyone view Mike right now,” he said. “He hasn’t been embalmed, so he’s in no shape for her to see.”
“Then you’ll have to go out and tell her. You had an agreement.” Ilka wheeled and walked away, but she heard Artie follow. “She has the photos you asked for. How do you think she feels about going in there to look at him? She’s pulled
herself together to do it, and after what happened last night it’s probably not easier for her.”
“Okay, but—”
“If you want to send her home again, it’s you who has to tell her.”
“Give me a second here.” He walked over and washed his hands; then he took off his apron.
Ilka’s eyes widened. “Do you plan on talking to her wearing that?” She pointed at his Hawaiian shirt, the blazing colors, the parrots.
Artie ignored her and walked out, leaving her speechless.
Ilka stayed in the background as he gave Shelby a hug. “I’m so sorry about what happened last night,” he said, his arm still around her shoulder. “Believe me, it hurts to see you put through this; it was totally disgusting. And I’m sorry that someone could break into our building. We’ve had some problems with our alarm system, but of course this kind of thing shouldn’t be possible.”
He apologized again. Ilka had the feeling it wasn’t all about Paul’s daughter screwing up by opening the window so the cat could come in. Something else was going on. Maybe he was afraid Shelby might sue them for not taking better care of her deceased son; if she did begin thinking that way, it could turn out to be horribly expensive for them. Ilka let Artie keep talking. But then she heard Shelby wave off his apologies.
“The person who dishonored Mike’s body would have broken in even if you had bars on all the windows and doors. This happened because someone in this town still wants revenge.”
“I know what I promised you,” Artie said. He explained carefully that he couldn’t let her see her son after all. “Everything’s been delayed; we had to call the police after what happened last night.”
“You can at least let me see his feet,” she said. “That’s enough. He has two toes on his left foot grown together. I know you all say it’s my son in there, but I need to see it with my own eyes. I hope you understand.”
Artie nodded. “Of course. Just give me a minute. If you two would just step in there, I’ll bring him in.”
He pointed at the large chapel used for funeral services. It looked like a lecture hall, with rows of chairs filling the room, though the first row was filled with plush sofas. The entire room was in beige, even the ceiling and the soft carpet. Muted and austere in a way that couldn’t offend anyone or clash with any style or religious belief. The acoustics were good, thanks to a carpet so thick that you sank into it as you walked.
Ilka followed Mike’s mother inside and turned on the light. The vases were empty, and the pleated floor-length curtains were closed behind the catafalque that supported the coffins. A lectern stood to the right of the catafalque, and loudspeakers on stands were spread around the room so everyone could hear relatives talk about the person they had lost.
Jensen Funeral Home went along with any kind of funeral service the relatives wanted, so long as it didn’t involve alcohol or anything unseemly. According to Artie, one time there had been karaoke at the lectern, because it had been the great passion of the deceased. It had been nearly impossible to stop once it got going, because there was always one more person who wanted the microphone.
The door opened behind them, and Artie rolled the stretcher in. Mike was covered with a white sheet. The stretcher’s wheels left tracks in the carpet. Ilka couldn’t help but notice Shelby’s expression tighten as he approached the catafalque. She stepped forward and laid a hand on the woman’s back, then asked her if she was okay.
Shelby nodded. Her face was like stone, her fists clenched, but her eyes followed Artie as he parked the stretcher between the sofas and the catafalque.
He nodded and told her to take her time.
“I’m ready,” she said, and she walked over and stood at the end where her son’s feet stuck up.
Artie took hold of the sheet; then he waited until she gave him a small nod. He lifted the sheet, and Mike’s feet and lower legs appeared.
It took her only a moment to confirm what she already knew. She turned and collapsed into Artie’s arms.
Ilka had kept in the background, but now she stepped forward and pulled the sheet back over Mike’s feet. She thought about pushing the stretcher out again, but she decided that Shelby should be allowed to leave the room before her son. When and only when she was ready to leave.
She went out into the hallway to give the mother time. Ilka needed time herself, to gather her thoughts. Though she tried not to worry too much about the problems with coffin suppliers, she wasn’t used to giving in and letting herself be patronized. She took it personally that no one was willing to be helpful. On the other hand, she did have the coffin for tomorrow; she didn’t need to worry about that. But it exasperated her that they had simply shut her off.
Stop it, she told herself. Artie and Shelby came out, and Artie asked if there was anything she wanted her son to have with him in the coffin.
“Think it over,” he said as they stood in the doorway. “Don’t go out and buy something. It’s more like if there’s anything at home that you know meant something to him. Or to you.”
Shelby promised to think about it and let them know. “I couldn’t bring myself to throw anything of his away after he left; it’s all up in the attic, but I haven’t looked at it since then. I’ll come over tomorrow if I find anything.”
“And if you don’t have any clothes for him, we’ll take care of it,” Artie added quickly. He hugged her one last time.
She nodded and thanked them; then she glanced again at the open door to the room where the stretcher still stood before walking out.
20
Back in her father’s room, Ilka checked her phone. She had two messages, both from her mother. The first one: “Let us know when you land. Will pick you up at the airport.”
The next message was a bit more demanding: “You have three jobs Monday, and the entire week is filled up. The first job is nine o’clock Monday morning at Linde School in Virum.”
Ilka plopped down on her father’s bed and closed her eyes for a moment. Earlier that day, she had been more than ready to go home. Turn her back on everything and pick up where she had left off. If she had followed that plan, she might even have been sitting on a plane right now. But that was no longer an option.
Insulted? Vindictive? Enraged? Ilka wasn’t sure how she felt. Maybe she was just offended on her father’s behalf, but pride and vanity were involved, too. She was not going to take the coffin suppliers’ rejections lying down. Yet she didn’t feel at all like they had won the first battle. On the contrary. And it would suit her fine if they found out she could manage without them. Then there was Shelby. Ilka had to make sure she got to say good-bye to her son in a dignified manner. And finally, of course, there were all her father’s things. And the two half sisters she’d found out about. She was anxious to meet them, and she had in fact expected they’d stop by to say hello, but maybe they thought she needed time to settle in. As if she’d had time for that.
She smiled and glanced around the room, which was a complete mess. Almost everything lay in piles, and the two body bags she had begun filling had to be emptied again. What would Erik say if he could see her now? “Pack your stuff and go home,” or “Get everything under control and figure out what you want.”
To try to get herself going, Ilka filled several supermarket plastic sacks with things she was sure would be thrown out. She went downstairs with one in each hand and walked out behind the house to the big Dumpsters. She opened the door and tossed the two sacks inside, but as she was about to slam the door shut, something caught her eye. A jacket sleeve stuck up between the bags over in the far corner of the Dumpster.
Ilka stood on tiptoe and leaned over to grab the corner of the topmost sack. To her surprise she saw the bags of her father’s clothes she had packed for Sister Eileen to give to her parish, hidden under trash sacks. But the nun had said she would take the clothes to the parish herself, so…
Ilka stared at the sacks for a moment; then she leaned back and slammed the Dumpster door shut.
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br /> Back in the bedroom, she gathered up the drawings her half sisters had made for their father. She would drive out later and give them to the two women, use them as an excuse for showing up and introducing herself. She was nervous but curious—would she see any of herself in them? Or something of their common father?
“Couldn’t leave after all,” she wrote to her mother. “Something has come up I have to take care of. Could you handle my jobs? Get Hanne to help set them up.”
Her mother had helped several times when Ilka had been on a tight schedule, so she knew the routine on photo shots, how the school students were to be placed. Granted, she’d never actually taken the photos, but that was the easiest part. All she had to do was press the camera’s button, Ilka had explained.
Before sending her message, she checked her watch. Her mother was probably asleep and wouldn’t see this for another eight hours. Ilka would be asleep then, and her mother would realize it was too late to find someone to do the jobs. Ilka knew she was conscientious; she would step in when she saw there were no other options.
The sun was about to go down, and Ilka felt restless. With a hint of a smile on his lips, Artie had helped her unload the Costco coffin out of the hearse. He decided to cover the scratches with black shoe polish; he doubted the family would notice. Fortunately, the damaged side of the coffin would be turned away from everyone.
There wasn’t anything more Ilka could do to prepare for the next day’s service, and besides, she was hungry. And in need of company, of a normal conversation that didn’t include coffins, dead people, and complicated inheritances. She rose from the bed and picked her sweater up off the floor; then she went back downstairs to ask Artie if he wanted to go to Oh Dennis! for a bite to eat.
The preparation room door was open a crack, but she couldn’t hear the fan. The Beach Boys were, however, at top volume, with Artie humming along. She stepped inside. Mike lay on the table in the middle of the room. Artie was leaning over his face, concentrating on brushing another layer onto the crushed cheekbone. Then he studied the face below him before using his brush on the cheek again.
