Icing on the Casket

by Catherine Bruns

  Linda must have heard us, because she was standing in the doorway of Eddie's office. Her thin face looked pale and tired. "Oh, I'm so glad it's you. Hello, Dom. Hi, Sally. Thanks for coming. Let's talk in the office."

  My father and I seated ourselves in the plush chairs while Linda settled herself behind the desk. She twisted a ballpoint pen between her slim fingers. "I want to thank you both for all that you've been doing to try to help me find out who killed Eddie, but I just can't handle it anymore. I need to distance myself from the place."

  "You don't have to explain anything to us," I said. "It's your business to do with as you please."

  She smiled. "I appreciate that and thought I should tell you in person that I've decided to sell the funeral home to Arthur."

  My father sucked in a loud, obnoxious breath, which I tried to ignore.

  "Are you sure? It sounds like Arthur will be getting what he wanted all along. We don't even know if he's the one who—" I didn't finish the sentence.

  Linda nodded her head adamantly. "I know I accused him before, but it was all in the heat of the moment. I refuse to believe he killed Eddie. We're talking about his own flesh and blood here."

  My father and I said nothing.

  Linda must have taken our silence for disbelief. "What other choice do I have?" she cried abruptly. "I need the money, and he's offered me a fair price."

  Why was she getting so defensive? Maybe Arthur had threatened her. "Does Eddie have any other assets that you could sell? What about waiting until someone else comes along to buy the place?"

  "Eddie had nothing else, save the funeral home. The will isn't being read until later today. His attorney, Roger Dudley, has been out of town the past few days. He did inform me over the phone that Arthur will be present for the reading as well." Her face was pinched tight with worry. "That must mean Eddie left him something. What, I have no idea. It may have been his attempt at a peace offering."

  I'd only been to a will reading once before, and the experience had not been pleasant. It hadn't been for a relative but a murder victim instead. The whole experience had left a terrible taste in my mouth as slighted family members slung more hateful words around than a roadside diner did with hash. But I was curious what Eddie could have left his brother. "Can you let us know the details afterwards?"

  She shot me a puzzled look. "Why?"

  "Maybe it's a motive for Eddie's death."

  "Oh." Her face fell. "That makes sense. If it helps, I've seen Eddie's will before. He made it out shortly after he received the funeral home from his father, and I was a witness. The funeral home goes to me, but if I die, it passes on to Terry." Her brow furrowed. "I don't remember Arthur being named at all."

  "Doesn't Terry have to be present for the reading?" my father asked.

  Linda shook her head. "Roger contacted him directly, and he's asked that we proceed without him. If I remember correctly, Eddie left him some personal items. A gold watch that belonged to his father and some other trinkets. He might be a little upset to know that he isn't getting cash—then again, there isn't any."

  I made a mental note to ask Brian to check out Terry's records and see if he'd made any recent trips to the US. Perhaps there was another suspect that I hadn't considered yet.

  Linda came around the desk, and we took that as our cue to leave. "I hope you don't mind, Sally, but I've told Arthur about your fabulous cookies. He may be getting in touch."

  "Of course not." Never mind the cookies. I still couldn't believe that Linda might be selling her husband's pride and joy to a possible killer. Money was a strong motivator.

  My father took her hand between his. "I hope you know what you're doing."

  "Me too," Linda said weakly.

  "What will happen to your employees when Arthur takes over?" I asked.

  "There's only Zach and Charlene to consider, and Charlene has already stated she plans to look for another job." Linda wiped at her eyes. "I do hope Arthur decides to keep Zach on, but it's not my problem anymore. To tell you the truth, I'm not sorry to see the last of him. Zach's been acting kind of strange lately."

  "How can you tell?" my father said as I nudged him.

  Linda's mouth turned up at the corners. "It might be best if Arthur starts with a clean slate."

  As far as I was concerned, the entire funeral home needed a clean slate. Eddie's death would surely leave its mark on the place forever.

  Linda exhaled sharply as she walked us to the door. "The truth will come out soon, I'm certain. The police were here earlier with a search warrant, but I don't believe they found anything."

  We said goodbye and the door closed and locked behind us. Dad slung an arm around my shoulders and led me in the direction of Starbucks. "How about a mocha Frappuccino, baby girl? My treat."

  "Sounds good, as long as it's a decaf." The word still sounded foreign to me, and I wondered if I'd ever get used to it. Probably not.

  The heavenly aromas of cinnamon and roasted coffee beans wafted through the air when my father opened the door. This was my place, my people. I'd once worked as a barista for a Starbucks in Florida while married to my first husband, Colin. It had been a difficult time for me—trying to save a marriage that there was no hope of saving while also trying to forget my one true love. I'd been the one to support us financially and had worked over sixty hours a week just so we could get by. On the plus side, I'd made some good friends while working there, and fond memories rushed back to me now.

  "I still don't understand," I said as my father gave our orders to the barista.

  He looked at me quizzically. "What?"

  "Charlene is very attractive. Okay, she likes older men. That's not unusual. But in most cases, the man has money or is drop-dead gorgeous." Sadly, Eddie was neither of those.

  My father stared in surprise. "Baby girl, you know it's what's on the inside that counts."

  "I do know, but I'm afraid not everyone thinks the same way."

  He gave me a solemn look. "You're forgetting something. I'm thirteen years older than your mother. She's always been a knockout, while I'm just your average Joe. I didn't have any money when we met. She could have done way better than me."

  "Well, you're special in your own way, Dad." So was my mother, which might explain both their mindsets. Whatever the reason, I was grateful they'd wound up together.

  Dad stroked his chin. "I am, aren't I?" He paid for our drinks, and we walked back to his car. "Then again, so was Eddie."

  "This has to be the most unusual murder case I've ever—" My phone buzzed, and Brian's name flashed across the screen. "Hi, Brian."

  He cleared his throat. "Sally, I wanted to let you know that we've arrested Charlene Jones for the murder of Eddie Phibbins."

  Boy, they worked fast. I put a hand over the phone and addressed my father. "Charlene's been arrested."

  Dad nodded soberly. "Yeah, I saw it coming."

  "But why? I'm not convinced it's her."

  "Hello?" Brian's irritated voice boomed from underneath my hand. "Excuse me. I don't mean to interrupt your chat session, but could I have your attention, Sally?"

  "Sorry. My father's with me. Why was she arrested?"

  "We obtained a search warrant for the funeral home and found a vial of cyanide in her workstation. It was hidden in her cosmetic tray," Brian explained. "She swore she didn't know how it got there."

  "That sounds too convenient," I murmured. "Charlene's not stupid. Why would she put it there?"

  "She had a motive," Brian reminded me. "Everyone who was questioned said she had a crush on Eddie, but he resisted her advances. He also paid her a miserly wage for a job that requires a fair amount of talent. Not everyone can do what she does."

  Or want to. "Do you think she's innocent?"

  "It doesn't matter what I think. It's all about the evidence, and my job is to bring her in." He paused. "Of course, if she's not the one, it may catch the real killer off guard."

  That had been my thought too.

 
; "She's asking for a lawyer," Brian went on. "More specifically, she'd like Gianna to represent her. Can you locate her? Charlene said that Gianna recently represented her sister and comes highly recommended."

  "Well, she is the best."

  Brian ignored my comment. "Is there any chance you can find Gianna and have her down at the police station within the hour?"

  My ego deflated a bit at his words. For a moment, I'd thought that Brian had called to take me under his wing so to speak, like a mother hen does to a baby chick. He'd shared details with me on cases in the past, but it looked like this time would be different. "Sure. I'll call and ask her, but I don't think it will be a problem."

  My father, who had been listening in, already had Gianna on speed dial. He motioned to me with his phone and whispered, "Your sister said she'll go over now and wants to know if you'd like to tag along for the ride. She's only a couple of blocks away and will drive over to pick you up."

  "Sounds good to me."

  "Sally, are you still there?" Brian asked.

  "Sorry. Yes, my father just spoke to her. We'll be there in about ten minutes."

  A deafening silence met my ears. "We?" Brian echoed. "What's this we stuff?"

  "I'm only going along for the ride, no worries."

  He muttered something under his breath that sounded like a curse word. "And that's all. You'll wait by the front door until she's done talking to Charlene. Or in the car would be even better. Like normal people do, Sally."

  What was that supposed to mean? "Yes, of course. I wouldn't dream of interfering. Has Linda been notified yet?"

  "If you must know, she hasn't. We're trying to keep Charlene's arrest under wraps for a while, so I'm counting on you and your morbid father not to say anything to anyone."

  I fumed at his remark. "Jeez, we're not two years old, Brian."

  He grunted in exasperation. "Some days, I wonder. Sally, I swear, if you—"

  "Gotta go. See you soon," I said sweetly and clicked off without another word. "Wow. What a grouch."

  My father's eyes practically bugged out of his head. "Maybe Charlene really did kill Eddie because he wouldn't leave Linda. If he'd pretended to be interested in her, he might still be alive."

  I had no answer for that.

  "How about I go along with you and Gianna?" he asked hopefully. "Then we can all talk to Charlene."

  If my father came along, Brian might toss us out into the street. "It doesn't work that way, Dad. You'd have to wait out front, like me. Anyway, you've got a more important job to do. You need to keep Charlene's arrest top secret. The police are counting on you."

  I didn't think he'd buy it, but Dad nodded eagerly. "Sure. I'll be a regular Sherlock Holmes. You and Mike are coming for dinner tonight, right? We need to discuss our next step in the investigation."

  Yes, I'd created a monster.

  My phone beeped with a text from Mike. I need to finish this kitchen tonight. Will be late. Save me some dinner? Then when we get home, maybe my beautiful wife and I can pick up where we left off last night?

  His words warmed me from head to toe as I typed out, Totally. Can't wait. I added several hearts and smiley face emojis.

  I shielded my eyes against the sun and spotted Gianna's car approaching. At least my husband and I were back on the right track. And our precious daughter was safe, basking in the glow of her grandmothers' love. My thoughts returned to the fortune cookie message I'd received, and I couldn't help but wonder about my safety as well.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  As Gianna drove toward the police station, she chatted gaily about the new words that Alex had learned to speak. I made appropriate replies and tried to be attentive but was lost in my own little world.

  Was there someone else who'd been involved in Eddie's murder that I hadn't accounted for? Another person who had access to the building and also performed embalming? The scenario had me baffled. Someone had poisoned a well-respected mortician, embalmed him, and then placed him in one of his own coffins. Before they could dispose of the body, they'd taken off and left him in his funeral home, where my father had been the one to stumble upon the body. He must have interrupted the killer before they could finish the job. The killer must have known there were no wakes scheduled for that day and assumed they were in the clear.

  Or had they meant for Eddie to be found like that? Was the killer trying to frame someone else, like Charlene? And what about Terry, Linda and Eddie's son? Could he have come home and killed his father? But what was his motive? England was only seven hours away by plane. Although Terry was out of the country, he couldn't be discounted.

  "You're awful quiet," Gianna said observed. "Everything okay?"

  I pulled out my phone and dashed off a message to my father, asking if he could try to reach Terry again. "Fine. But I'm not convinced Charlene did this. Doesn't it seem a little too obvious to leave cyanide in your makeup table? As far as I know, it doesn't cover blemishes."

  Gianna almost smiled. "After what I see in the courtroom daily, nothing surprises me anymore."

  "Not to put you on the spot, but is there any way I could talk to Charlene as well?"

  "You know better than that." Gianna scolded me like I was a five-year-old.

  Hey, it had been worth a shot. I said nothing further as she pulled her car into the adjoining lot next to the one-story, gray brick building. I'd visited the police station several times over the past few years—actually, too many to count. The last time I'd been here, Brian had joked about getting me my own parking space.

  I tried another tactic. "If Charlene doesn't mind, would it be okay then?"

  Gianna's brown eyes narrowed as she shut the engine off. "Sal, it nulls the attorney-client privilege. I'd never agree to anything like that."

  "But if she agreed, you'd be okay?" I persisted.

  "Yes, but I would never ask her. And why would she agree to it when she barely knows you? The whole thing is unethical. I couldn't get behind something like that. You know I believe in total honesty."

  "Well, you did ask Chantal to come to the bakery, and you weren't exactly truthful about it," I reminded her.

  Gianna lowered her eyelashes and sighed. "You're right. I'm a hypocrite. A dishonest attorney."

  "No, you're not! I was only teasing. Besides, you had your reasons."

  Her face was grim. "I need that woman out of my house before I go insane." She slammed the car door with renewed force. "What kind of attorney am I? What example am I setting for my son? Will I turn the other cheek every time my child does something wrong?"

  Good grief. "Gi, I didn't mean to sentence you to a lifetime of remorse. If this is going to upset you, I'll stay out front. Promise."

  She sighed and linked her arm through mine as we walked into the station. "If you can get Brian and Charlene to agree, it's all right by me."

  Brian was in conversation with the man stationed behind the front desk when we arrived. He spotted us and immediately walked over. "Thanks for coming, Gianna. I'll bring Charlene into the interrogation room, where you can chat with her privately."

  "Brian," I interrupted. "Is there any chance—"

  "Forget it," he snapped and turned away.

  So much for that. Resigned, I sat down on the hard, wooden bench that was located against the wall while Gianna looked at me sympathetically. "Sorry, Sal."

  "No worries. Maybe you can find out if she and Eddie really were carrying on."

  "I thought you said she denied it."

  "Yes, but there's always a chance she's lying." I snapped my fingers. "Hey, could you get your hands on a copy of Eddie's will?"

  Gianna looked doubtful. "Has it been read?"

  "No. Not until sometime this afternoon."

  She frowned. "I wouldn't be able to check it out until it's a public record. We don't even know if it has to go through probate. If there's still money owing on the funeral home, that's a given. Do you know who the attorney or executor is?"

  "Linda said his name is Roge
r Dudley."

  "Oh, sure. I know Roger. We've been in court together a few times. I'll contact him. He may give me some information after it's been read."

  While we were speaking, a door down the hall opened, and Charlene came into view. She was dressed in a hunter green shirt and matching pants with her wrists cuffed in front of her. Brian had placed a hand under her elbow and guided her toward the interrogation room. Charlene's eyes locked on me and then Gianna. She exhaled sharply, as if she'd been holding that one breath for an eternity. Brian didn't even glance our way. After a few seconds, he reappeared in the doorway and motioned to Gianna. He closed the door after she'd entered.

  "Don't you have to stay in there with them?" I asked.

  He shook his head. "She's allowed to have a private talk with her attorney. Besides, we have visual monitoring without audio."

  The door to the interrogation room reopened, and Gianna gestured at Brian. "Can I have a word with you?"

  He walked over while I shot off a text to Josie, letting her know I'd be back at the bakery within the hour. She responded right away, saying Dodie was there and they'd be okay until I returned.

  Brian came back over to me, shaking his head in disbelief.

  "What's wrong?" I asked.

  He pinched his nose between his thumb and forefinger. "It appears that Charlene has requested your presence. Gianna swears she had nothing to do with it."

  "Are you serious?"

  "Unfortunately, yes," he said dryly. "For some odd reason, Charlene believes you can help her too."

  "I'll do my best." Before Brian could say anything further, I rose from the bench and walked into the room, shutting the door quietly behind me. Gianna motioned for me to sit at the table next to her.

  Charlene stared at me with a somber expression. She looked like she'd aged since the last time I'd seen her. There were strands of gray in her hair I was certain hadn't been there before.

  "I didn't do it," she blurted out. "You both have to believe me. I adored Eddie."

  Gianna's face was unreadable as she tapped a ballpoint pen on the table. "Who could have planted the cyanide in your room?"