Bones and Drones

by K A Goodsell

The text was from Gage.

  Here’s your drone photo of the Inn

  I opened the photo and smiled at the view of the Inn. It was a great picture. As I zoomed in and scanned the front porch, I noted that it must have been taken recently—the pumpkins were knocked over, just like I’d noticed earlier.

  I scanned the sides and front of the Inn until I came across a person caught in the photograph. It was Andre. There was his truck.

  Huh. If the pumpkins had just been broken when Mrs. Morrow came by the Inn Friday morning, this photo had to have been taken at some point on Friday or Saturday. But Andre had told me he was off all weekend. So why was he at the Inn, appearing to load tools into the back of his truck?

  I clicked back onto Gage’s message and wrote:

  When did you take this photo?

  He typed immediately.

  Friday afternoon. Mom wanted it ASAP

  I examine the photograph some more.

  Did you see Andre around? He’s in it.

  A speech bubble appeared, then disappeared. A moment later, it was back.

  Shit, I’m not supposed to have anybody in the photo. We probably can’t use it now without his permission

  I smirked:

  Well, let’s go get his permission then. Meet Raimy and me at the boathouse in half an hour.

  The boathouse was freezing, since the only thing keeping the cold wind and leaves out was two large doors. One faced the parking lot, and the other led directly into the river which was flowing high due to the rain we had recently. An area where you could lower your boat into the river just barely poked out from the crest of the water.

  A noise came from the edge of the boathouse that sounded like moving metal. I walked toward the sound and found Andre standing in the middle of a boat that was crushing another boat. They must have fallen during the storm that came through. The winds at one point had shaken our house, so I could only imagine what happened to this flimsy-looking type of metal structure. He was cutting through a piece of shrapnel that was piercing a boat cover.

  I opened my mouth to say hello, but he caught sight of us before we could say anything, causing him to jump inside the boat and stumble backwards.

  “Oh! Are you okay?” Raimy and I rushed to him. Gage came up behind us and offered his hand to pull Andre out of his awkward seated position in the twisted fiberglass materials.

  I worried about the boats shifting again with him stuck between them.

  “Sorry,” he apologized, wincing as Gage helped pull him back to his feet. “I had no idea you all were standing there. You got me good.” He smiled for a fraction of a second and then with Gage’s help stepped out of the boat.

  “What are you doing? It looks dangerous,” Gage remarked as he wiped his hands against his jeans leaving streaks of white powder from the fiberglass. “Shouldn’t someone be here helping you?”

  “I was just looking to see how damaged my boat was from the storm.” He waved at the boats. I hoped it was the one on. “It’s that one.” He pointed to the one completely crushed.

  “Sorry about your boat,” I said as he removed his protective glasses.

  “It’s okay,” he said, looking back at the boat. “It’s just a boat. Not like it was a person.”

  All four of us looked down for a moment.

  He looked back over to us, trying to fake a smile. “Can I help you all with something, or were you just stalking around the boathouse when you aren’t supposed to be? I tell the Chief all the time you kids are doing this kind of stuff, and I’ve about had it—”

  “No,” I stopped him. “That’s not us. I promise. We came looking for you, actually. We have you in a photograph that Gage took with his drone for the Inn. His mom would like to run it as part of the advertising for the Harvest Festival, and since you’re in the photograph, even though you’re tiny, we still need your permission to run it.”

  Andre took off his gloves and tipped his hat up off his forehead. “What kind of photograph?”

  “Here.” Gage pulled a folded copy from his back pocket and handed it over to Andre, who took one look at it and shrugged.

  “That’s fine.” He handed back the photo and put his gloves back on.

  That was easier than I’d expected. I figured he’d at least fight it, but maybes he was more of a gentle giant than I knew.

  “Are you sure?” I pushed. “I mean, it’ll be all over the paper, the town square, etc.”

  He shrugged again. “It’s a nice photo. Plus, like you said, you can hardly see me. Gage, I’m sure your mother loves that photo since it shows all the hard work we’ve been putting into keeping all the landscaping looking bright.”

  “Except for the pumpkins that got bashed,” I pushed again.

  He straightened up. “I can’t believe that happened. Those were my pumpkins. I grow them every season for the steps of the Inn when I’m growing the pumpkin for the Harvest Festival.”

  I’d forgotten about that. He grew huge pumpkins, hundred-pounders sometimes, that sat in the middle of the town circle during the festival.

  “Any idea of who broke them?” Raimy shoved her hands into her jeans pockets.

  He shrugged once more. “No idea. I wish I knew, though, because those took months to grow. I already told Tag when he was over at the Inn the other night to keep an eye out for people knocking over mailboxes, pumpkins, or anything that’s not their property. That’s why I was asking you all if you were stalking around the boathouse.”

  “Understood,” Gage replied. “If you hear anything, can you let us know?”

  Andre nodded and made eye contact with me. “Paislee, I know this is a long shot, but I know you’re working on Teddy’s case.”

  “I can’t say anything,” I told him. “I’m not allowed to. But I haven’t found anything yet.”

  He nodded again in understanding. “I shouldn’t say anything more, anyway. I’m still under investigation with the sheriff’s office.” He looked back at the boat. “You never know who could be up to something in this town. You shouldn’t leave any stones unturned.”

  I’d never liked the smell of Grimes Funeral Home. It was a reminder that this was where people came to mourn, to cry, to let their hearts sink. It was not necessarily a floral smell that I would bottle for perfume. Even the music that my mom played sounded sad. It was supposed to be comforting, but I wanted to cry when I heard it.

  As Nat opened the door and stepped inside before me, I smelled the clean and overly perfumed air. It was like my mother was covering up the smell of death, even though you would never smell it truly.

  “That would be wonderful.”

  A voice that sounded familiar rang out from the sitting area to our right as we stood in the entryway.

  There sat Rebecca.

  It was still odd to think I hadn’t seen her since she graduated. Most residents, and even prior residents, of Pine Grove who still had family in the town tended to come around holidays and wandered around the town, and we’d somehow pass by each other. But not Rebecca.

  She was probably away at college, although I’d heard a rumor that both of her parents passed away in a private airplane accident overseas. I guessed that rumor was true, unfortunately, since Rebecca was the one making decisions with my mother.

  What type of stone should the gravestone be made of? How fast can it be there? Will it be an unmarked grave until then? How long does it take the grass to cover the hole properly? Is the rainfall you had recently going to affect anything?

  That last was an interesting question. It actually may. My mother explained to her that since water runs underground, and since Hale Cemetery is flat, that there may be water at the bottom of the grave. It had happened once a few years ago, and the family was upset because the person they were burying had drowned. But with Rebecca, it didn’t seem to faze her. She even asked if the coffin would float or not. Interesting thought pattern.

  I was glad that my mother was the person to plan the funeral arrangements, as I was never
much help with that portion of the business. My brain can only think about so many things at once, let alone handle the funeral details, manage her team, schedule everything, handle the immediate family, and deal with the extended family and friends. I was sure there were more details, I just didn’t know about them.

  The closest I’d ever been to planning a funeral was jokingly planning my own with Raimy. We were probably fourteen at the time when we were lying on the floor in my bedroom during a sleepover.

  “If I die before you, can you make sure my funeral has something to do with dead authors? I’ve love to see Edgar Allan Poe walking around and telling people he’s hearing things under the floorboards.”

  “Oh my God, it would be an honor. Can you make sure mine is High School Musical themed?” Raimy had shouted.

  “Sure, just as long as we can have basketballs all over the floor during the wake. Hazards and party favors.”

  “Keep everyone on their toes. I like it, Grimes.”

  Those funerals would never happen, but just think about it. It’d be hilarious.

  Even though we were just joking, it was the details that made a funeral and a wake successful and meaningful to the family and friends of the deceased.

  The outfit that was chosen (sometimes ahead of time by the person who died or their family when they knew they would pass—such an odd thought. No, I want the blue dress on my death day, not the red one).

  The makeup put on the deceased to make them look somewhat alive again.

  The color of the velvet lining that some people put into the casket.

  The way the smell of flowers can make a person sick depending on how many bouquets people receive for the wake. Sometimes the whole funeral home is covered, and my mom ends up bringing home a few. It was odd to know that all she did was remove the “Sympathies” banner from the bouquet and now it was in our kitchen.

  The world had changed. That much I knew. Funerals back when Pine Grove was established were private, quiet affairs, and no one really stood around the grave when they lowered the body. That was done overnight.

  Rebecca caught sight of me in the entryway, and it was too late for me to scamper downstairs into the offices.

  She waved, and a smile came across her face. That was a surprise. What was also a surprise was that she left my mother talking in the living room to walk over to say hello. The look at on my mother’s face was a pure rage for a moment, but then she got her shit together.

  “Paislee Grimes,” Rebecca said before putting her arms out in front of her for a hug. “Good to see you again, with me put together more. I looked like shit the other night.”

  “It’s completely understandable,” I assured her, hugging her back. She smelled like peaches. “I’m sorry for your loss, again.”

  I didn’t know why that phrase is always so awkward and difficult to say. I felt bad. Someone in her family had died. But she must have heard it a hundred times.

  “Thank you. Teddy looks great. Better than alive, I swear.”

  “Oh, you’ve seen him? They are all set with his makeup?” I always thought they looked like they belonged in a wax museum instead of in a casket. My mother sometimes put perfume on the bodies, which left a cloud of makeup powder, baby powder, and perfume in the air around the casket.

  “How’s Raimy’s obit coming?” she asked.

  “I think it’s going fine. She wants to be a journalist.” I smiled at her. “She writes all the obituaries in Pine Grove now to get some experience under her belt. Plus, she’s great at it.”

  “I think that’s such a great idea. You really get to immortalize someone’s life through their obituary.”

  “I couldn’t have said it better myself.”

  Mom entered the entryway. “He’s all set whenever you are, Rebecca.”

  “I heard you discussing headstones,” I interjected as Rebecca turned to walk away with my mother back toward the living room, most likely to grab her coat so we could go outside to choose what type. “Go with granite. It lasts longer.”

  She nodded. “I forgot you were so into headstones and stuff. That sounds good. Mrs. Grimes, I’d like to order it in granite please.”

  My mother agreed and winked at me before they entered towards the kitchen.

  “Are they gone?”

  I turn around to see Tag standing at the top of the staircase that goes downstairs to the offices and the morgue—if you even want to call it that. It’s a simple, five-person temperature-controlled area that can hold bodies with an area for embalming, makeup, and anything necessary to prepare people for their final rest.

  Tag was wearing his deputy uniform. Honestly, though, the first thing I noticed was his perfect teeth. They were always so white, so straight, and so shiny, if that’s even a thing.

  He unclasped the “Do Not Enter” chain that drapes across the staircase and clasped it shut behind him. “What are you doing here? Helping your mom?”

  “Mourner duty.”

  We nodded at each other.

  “Been there, done that,” he joked awkwardly. “Real and not real.”

  “I feel you.” I smiled at him, not knowing how to continue this conversation. He was so different from his other brothers. Much more professional and quieter, even though he was the star quarterback in high school and a social butterfly, unlike Rebecca—who he seems to avoid. “She’s not here.”

  He breathes out heavily in relief. “I’m not, like, trying to avoid her or anything,” Uh huh, sure. “But we haven’t spoken since high school when I dumped her at prom. I’m different now, but it’s just weird. I was an asshole in high school.”

  “Totally,” I lied, playing around. I had no idea what he was like in high school, but I kind of got the point. I bet he changed; I could see that.

  “I just want to tell you—” he glanced around us. “—I saw your dashcam footage. I know you left before him and he stayed behind.”

  I pursed my lips, “Are you telling me you know I’m innocent?”

  His eyes widened. “I’m telling you that I know you weren’t involved if anything occurred.”

  I crossed my arms over my chest. “I know that because I told you that.”

  He nodded, realizing it probably wasn’t the best statement. He pulled a small notebook from his back pocket. It was the same one he used while interviewing me. Here we go again.

  As he opened the notebook, I noticed he clasped his pen against the strap that kept it shut. The pen rested upon the back where an emblem of a pine tree was engraved. Very appropriate for the deputy’s office to have their own notebook emblem for the town.

  “Do you think Elgort did anything?” I let the tenseness in my shoulders go as I looked up at Tag. He was flipping through the sheets of paper quickly until I asked my question.

  “I don’t know, P.” He stopped flipping and looked at me. “We won’t know until we talk with everyone.”

  “Okay,” I nodded, understanding.

  “Oh, how’s your investigation going about Daniel Lockwood? Any leads on who could be related to him or maybe who did this?”

  I let my arms drop. “So, does that mean you all have no idea who did this still?”

  His eyebrow lifted, and he put the notebook away again. “If you find anything out, please let me know first.”

  Why does he want to know first? So, he can get credit for it?

  “Is Chance here?” I look towards the staircase.

  “Yeah, I was just with him,” Tag snaps out of his thoughts and reaches back to unclasp the chain for me. I walk past him and down the staircase. “Say hi to Gage for me later if you see him, by the way. I never see him at home or cottages lately. Your partnership seems to be going well.”

  I stopped dead on one of the last steps and looked up at Tag. “Yeah, it’s going well.”

  “That’s good. It’ll be good for him to have someone to hang out with. He’s a quiet guy.”

  “Okay.” How do I respond to that? Yeah, totally, he’s so shy. I’ll
fix that.

  “Okay,” Tag repeated, peering around the hallway doorway again, then hesitantly walked out of sight.

  I didn’t understand why people hid from others. Just go say hi, get it out of the way, and move on.

  Life’s too short.

  Speaking of which, I walked into the morgue, two doors down from my mother’s cluttered office, and see Chance putting the final touches on Teddy.

  As I approached Chance, he nodded at me and raised his gloved hand up for an air high-five, which I gladly give him. It was our tradition. Curtis, his assistant for makeup and styling, was in his mid-thirties, isn’t married with five Corgis, which was kind of like being married. I couldn’t see his hair underneath his backwards Detroit baseball hat, but it was usually a new color at least once a month. Last month it had been a deep blue. Looked good. I liked it better than orange.

  Teddy’s body was lying on the metal platform in the middle of the room. His was wearing a plain black suit, and I had to say it looked dapper on him. Honestly, though, it was always weird to see someone that you’ve known throughout your life dead in front of you.

  I looked at his hair, already styled into a retro look, slightly slicked to the side. I leaned down and got even with the cot, to see that they hadn’t touched the back of his hair. Why would they though? He’ll be lying in a casket, so who’s going to even see.

  “Do you like the look?” Curtis chimed in. His voice nearly hummed with the echo in the bare, concrete room.

  I stared at Teddy. She was right, he looked like he was alive, and even better. I almost expected to see him open his eyes and look at up at me. “He looks alive.”

  “Great, job done.” Curtis clapped.

  I stared at Teddy while Chance stitched up his side near the rib cage.

  “I think I’m having a midlife crisis.” I mumble. I wonder if either of them ever had a midlife crisis and bought a car he couldn’t afford, or bought a summerhouse, or had a mistress or something horrible.