“Okay,” Hannah said, as cars began to arrive. “Let’s go.”
Maggie was sitting over near the side exit, where she would have a clear view of the bereaved family members. Hannah was hanging out in the foyer, trying to avoid the funeral home owner, AKA Queen of Darkness, Peg Machalvie, and her sons, AKA Creepy Minions, Hugh and Louis, while she scoped out everyone who entered. Claire was twitchy and bored on the back row, feeling awkward and obvious. She was hoping Walter would arrive soon so she could corral him into sitting with her.
‘He’s too old for you,’ Laurie said.
‘I’m ignoring you,’ Claire replied.
‘No, you’re not. If you were ignoring me, you wouldn’t even acknowledge my presence.’
‘La, la, la.’
‘You’re going about this investigation all wrong, by the way.”
‘What do you mean?’
‘The question you should be asking is with whom did Gigi meet on the morning of the day she died. Notice how much my grammar has improved upon my death.’
‘We think she met with Jillian.’
‘But you don’t know that for a fact,’ Laurie said. ‘Find out with whom she met and you’ll know why she died. Or is it with whom she did meet? I’ll have to ask Aelius. That man cannot carry a tune but he sure does love to talk about words.’
‘How do I find out who it was?’
‘By detecting, my dear.’
‘Do you know?’
‘I only know what you know,’ Laurie said. ‘I only have access to your thoughts and what you see and hear.’
‘I think Jillian did it.’
‘You need more than an opinion, doll face; you need facts.’
‘Where do I begin?’
‘At the beginning, of course.’
“Excuse me,” Walter said, looking down at her with affection. “Is this seat taken?”
Claire gladly welcomed Walter to her row. The other rows were beginning to fill up now, and pre-recorded organ music was playing over the sound system. Gigi’s casket was closed, thank goodness. Claire could barely stand to be in a room with a casket, let alone with a dead body on display like hamburger in a grocery store, under a red spotlight to make it seem more lifelike.
Eugene came in with Sam, who looked every bit like a bodyguard. No one who saw him, with his scanning eyes and menacing scowl, could think otherwise. Eugene stopped at the casket, patted it awkwardly, and then he and Sam sat down in the front row.
“Everything all right with Eugene?” Walter asked.
“Physically, he’s safe,” Claire said. “Emotionally, he’s struggling. Hannah turned out to be the perfect person to take care of him, though. She understands him and he trusts her. It’s all good.”
“I’m glad,” he said. “I’m dreading this will business. I hate this part of my job.”
“Greedy relatives waiting to hear what they won, and then threatening to contest the will if they don’t like what they hear?”
“They can’t break this one,” he said. “This is not my first rodeo, as they say.”
“I like you, Walter,” Claire said. “You’re not like any attorney I’ve ever met.”
“That’s high praise, indeed,” he said. “Thank you.”
“What should I do during the will reading? Where should I sit?”
“Say absolutely nothing, no matter how much you’re provoked. You’re there on behalf of Eugene, so you sit with him, as his advocate, to hear the wishes of the deceased.”
“Chip and Jillian are going to flip out.”
“Well, if they do, it will be in front of a room full of witnesses, and it won’t make the slightest bit of difference.”
The family arrived, and although she was assigned to Chip, Claire couldn’t help but notice that Jillian’s face was so flushed she looked ill. Chip was dressed immaculately in a black suit, but he was chewing gum, which struck Claire as inappropriate. Everyone he spoke to or shook hands with, there he went, chomp, chomp, chomp, on that gum. If his aunt had been alive, she would have insisted he spit it out immediately.
Claire finally got a good look at Chippie Junior. He was beauty and grace where his father had been gawky and gangly, and movie star handsome where his father had been cute, but he kept flipping his forward-brushed hair across his forehead in a way that betrayed his youth.
Claire caught one exchange between father and son where Chip gripped his son’s arm so tightly that the boy winced, and whispered something into his ear that made his son flush with anger, but it ended almost as soon as it began, as Jillian moved in to separate the two, a big fake smile plastered on her face. Chippie Junior sat on the other side of his mother, away from his father. Chip sat next to Sam, and Hannah sat on the other side of Eugene.
The music swelled and then stopped. To Claire’s surprise, the clergyman who walked up to the podium was Ben Taylor, whom she had met in the hospice house garden. Suddenly, all her mother’s talk of the new minister, Reverend Taylor, came back to her. Half listening, she had pictured an old man, not this young, vibrant sweetheart of a guy whom she had poured her heart out to in the garden. She also remembered Chip saying he missed seeing her mother at church. They all must go to the Rose Hill United Methodist Church, Ben’s church.
Claire caught Ben’s eye and he smiled at her. It made her instantly teary-eyed. Walter handed her a handkerchief.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Funerals do this to me,” Claire whispered.
She wished fervently that Ben had officiated at Laurie’s funeral, instead of the dour-faced old man who said three words about Laurie and then spent an hour castigating the congregation for not taking the Bible seriously enough.
“You ignore the word of God at your own peril!” he had shouted over and over.
Laurie’s ex-wife and a former girlfriend had made the graveside service a ludicrous drama-fest, what with the fist-fighting and hair-pulling. That had been the first time she heard Laurie in her head, after a day of near-constant piano playing in there instead.
‘I don’t know what piece would best accompany a girl fight at a funeral,’ he’d said, after the women were physically separated but still cursing each other. ‘Maybe something by Chopin.’
Whereupon, Claire’s head was filled with classical music.
“If we think of the world as our church, our mosque, our synagogue, our temple, our shrine,” Ben said, “then all of us are fellow congregants, and our actions should be the same outside in the world as they currently are inside our separate houses of worship.”
“He’s very progressive,” Walter said.
“He’s the best,” Claire said.
“If the Earth is our spiritual school, then everyone is your friend, your brother, your sister, your classmate, your teacher. To practice our religion is to tolerate each other, teach each other, help each other, forgive each other, and love each other. It’s acting with kindness, it’s feeling compassion. The more we do that, the more we fulfill our purpose here on Earth.”
‘He’s not so bad,’ Laurie said in her head. ‘He needs to stop soon, though, or he’ll lose them. They’re hungry, their clothes are hot, itchy, and too tight, and they have to pee. Oh, wait, that’s just you.’
Claire ignored him. He was starting to get on her nerves.
“Gigi had a larger-than-life personality and a great big heart,” Ben was saying. “She will be remembered by the people she loved for the many ways in which she left our Earth school better for having attended.”
‘Your friend Tuppy says hi, by the way,’ Laurie said. ‘Nice chap, your Tuppy. Terrible at chess, but a gifted tennis player.’
“Stop it,” Claire said, and aghast, realized she had said it out loud. Several people turned to look, and she flushed with shame.
Walter took her hand, patted it, and looked straight ahead. He nodded to Ben to continue. Tears filled Claire’s eyes until she could not see. She spent the rest of the service with her face buried in Walter’s handk
erchief, trying not to sob out loud.
When everyone stood to leave, Claire hurried out and hid in the farthest stall in the women’s restroom. There she took out her make-up kit, repaired her face, put drops in her eyes, and talked to Laurie.
‘I’m done,’ she told him. ‘You can’t talk to me anymore. You’re interfering with my ability to get on with my life, to be here, to be present, with the people I care about. I love you, I miss you, but I can’t have you here anymore. I’m letting you go. I’m sorry, Laurie, but please, please, please, leave me alone now.’
She didn’t wait to hear what he had to say, or what he would play on the piano. She checked her face in the mirror, decided to feign amnesia about what happened during the funeral, and left to find Chip, whom she was supposed to be watching.
She found him with the other family members and Walter, gathered in a small room furnished with sofas and coffee tables, a faux living room for the bereaved. Sam had stationed himself outside the only door to the room, and merely nodded to her as she passed him.
“Good, Claire’s here, so we can start,” Walter said.
He smiled at Claire and she felt bathed in his warm regard. She sat down on the only unoccupied chair, which coincidently gave her an unencumbered view of the whole family.
Walter wasted no time with preamble. He read the will, and as anticipated, Jillian had the most visceral reaction. As soon as she understood what was being said, she gasped and almost stood, but Chip grabbed her arm and forcibly pulled her back into her seat. Chip seemed to be working out his emotions on his gum. He blinked a little more frequently, and his face was flushed, but he held it together.
Chomp, chomp, chomp.
Eugene didn’t seem to be paying attention. He had his hands clasped in his lap and was staring at them. He didn’t seem to hear or care what was being said.
After Walter finished, he said if anyone had questions he would stay as long as they needed. Jillian and Chip were the first to approach him, and there followed a heated exchange.
Finally, Chip said, “That’s it then,” and left the room.
“You haven’t heard the last of this,” Jillian told Walter, and followed him out.
Claire was torn. She was Eugene’s advocate and Walter’s teammate, but she was supposed to be following Chip.
Eugene was still looking at his hands. Claire went over and sat down next to him.
“Hey,” she said. “We’re all done here. We can go up to the reception or back to Hannah’s if you’ve had enough.”
His mother’s wishes were to be cremated, so there would be no graveside service.
Eugene looked up at Claire, sadness in his eyes.
“Wh, wh, what would Mother have wanted me t, t, to do?” he asked her.
“What do you want to do, Eugene?” she asked him. “You’re in charge now.”
“Then why do you and Walter c, c, control everything?” he asked, not without a little resentment.
“I don’t know why your mother made it that way,” Claire said. “Honestly, I thought I was witnessing her signature, not signing on as your guardian.”
He snorted a short laugh.
“She duped you,” he said. “That’th a g, g, good one.”
“I’m glad to be the one helping you,” she said. “And Walter is a lovely man. We both want whatever’s best for you, Eugene, and we both agree it should be what you want, not what anybody else wants.”
“If that’th true,” he said. “If that’th really t, t, true, then I want to g, g, go home.”
“To Hannah’s?”
“No,” he said. “My home.”
“You can’t right now, Eugene, because they don’t know what killed your mother.”
“Or who k, k, killed my mother,” he said, clenching his fists.
“Or who killed your mother,” Claire said. “Sam’s outside, and he’ll take you wherever you want to go.”
“Well, I gueth if there are p, p, people who loved my m, m, mother, and they are at the retheption, I sh, sh, should shake handth with them and th, th, thank them for coming. She’d like that, wouldn’t she?”
“She would.”
“Then I guess I’ll do that,” he said. “It’s the leatht I c, c, can do.”
Walter spoke to Eugene briefly, said he would be in touch, and if he had any questions he should call. Eugene shook his hand and in a very formal way, thanked him for coming. Walter and Claire exchanged a meaningful look and he winked at her.
Claire delivered Eugene to Sam and walked rapidly to the parking lot, looking for Chip. She found him in an altercation with his son. His son’s lip was bloody and Jillian was standing between them.
“You’re a freakin’ idiot,” Chippie Junior said.
Chip lunged but Jillian pushed him away.
“Haven’t you done enough?” she hissed at him.
Chip threw up his hands and turned away. He then hurried to his car and spun his tires leaving the parking lot. Claire went to her car, and as she did so, overheard Jillian saying, “Come on, sweetie-pie, let’s get you cleaned up,” to her son as if he were six instead of sixteen.
Claire saw Maggie hanging back at the edge of the crowd that had gathered to watch. She stuck out her tongue at Claire and held up her phone. Claire held up hers and nodded. She had to drive slowly to avoid running over people as she left the parking lot and headed north. She hoped she could catch up to him without breaking too many laws.
By the time she reached the interstate she realized he must have been flying because she’d been driving way too fast and never caught up to him. She pulled over into a gas station and called Maggie.
“I lost him,” she said. “I’m next to the interstate and I don’t know which way he went.”
“Way to go,” Maggie said. “I, on the other hand, am right behind Jillian. Her son had his own car and I don’t know where he went. We’re headed your way.”
“I’m going to cruise past the strip club and see if he’s there,” Claire said.
“Good luck,” Maggie said.
Evidently, it was way too early for anyone to be working at the strip club. She circled the parking lot but there were no cars parked there. Dejected, she drove around aimlessly, scouring the parking lots of the businesses on the same frontage road as the club. As she passed a motel, she noticed a bright red Mustang with temporary tags parked in front of one of the rooms. When she drove around to the back side of the building, there was Chip’s BMW.
“Bingo,” Claire said. “Who’s the good detective now?”
No one answered, and no one played a single note on the piano in her head.
She called Hannah.
“I’ll get there as soon as I can,” Hannah said. “We need someone to follow each of them when they leave.”
“We don’t even know that they’re together,” Claire said. “It could be a huge coincidence.”
“They’re together,” Hannah said. “They’re connected by his father. I’ll be there in ten minutes. Hey, Aunt Deliah! Can you take my kid for an hour or so?”
The call ended.
‘Which room should I watch?’ Claire wondered, ‘the Mustang room or the BMW?’
Again there was no answer from Laurie.
‘I’m going with the Mustang,’ she thought. ‘I bet she doesn’t care who knows they’re here together.’
Claire circled back around the parking lot to the front of the motel and backed into a space that gave her a good view of the room. A young woman came out of the room with an ice bucket and eventually returned with ice. With no make-up on, dressed in yoga pants and a T-shirt, she looked too young to be in a room with a man Chip’s age.
Hannah arrived, backed in next to Claire, and jumped in the passenger side of her car.
“How’d you get here so fast?”
“I know a short cut,” she said. “Plus I drove like a bat out of hell.”
“What do you think?” Claire asked.
“The tags match.”
> “Did the cops bring her in for questioning?” Claire asked.
“They might have; no one’s telling me anything,” Hannah said. “I can’t even get Skip to drink a beer with me, let alone ply him with chips. Scott’s got those boys on a short leash.”
“She looks so young,” Claire said. “It makes me want to smack him.”
“Well, she’s at least sixteen ’cause she’s driving,” Hannah said. “So, it’s legal.”
“Sixteen is way too young to be making those kinds of decisions,” Claire said.
“You’d know,” Hannah said.
“Thanks.”
“Oooh, look,” Hannah said excitedly, as she scrunched down in her seat, “Here comes Jillian.”
Sure enough, Jillian’s Lexus came rolling through the parking lot toward them. Claire stuck a ball cap on her head and flipped the car visor down. Jillian was too busy scouring the motel to notice them.
“It’s sad to me that there was a reception after Gigi’s funeral and not one of these people bothered to attend,” Claire said. “She was so good to all of them.”
“As soon as Jillian sees his car, the stinky stuff is going to hit the whirly thing,” Hannah said.
Maggie’s Jeep crept into the parking lot. She backed in on the other side of Claire.
“Where’d she go?” she asked.
“Around back,” Hannah said.
Maggie pulled out and drove around the backside of the motel.
Hannah’s phone rang and she answered it on speaker.
“She’s banging on the door of the room he’s parked in front of, but no one’s answering,” Maggie said.
“Is she armed?” Hannah asked.
“I don’t think so,” Maggie said. “But by her mood, I’d say she’s still dangerous.”
“Her mighty anger doth power her fists,” Hannah said. “For hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.”
The door to the Mustang room opened and Chip and the young girl came out, but not in any hurry. They got in her car and backed out.
“Follow them!” Hannah yelled.
Claire started the car and put it in gear. Hannah called Maggie to tell her what they were doing.
Maggie gave them an update.
Sunflower Street (Rose Hill Mysteries Book 8) Page 13
