SEAS THE DAY

by Maggie Toussaint

  “I just left the hospital where I was sitting with a loyal staffer who got shot. Please carry your phone tomorrow. You’re more than the love of my life, you’re my lifeline in a sea of corporate corruption.”

  “Shot? They’re shooting people?” My voice broke as I talked. I took a moment to regain control. I needed to be the voice of reason. “It’s not safe for you out there. I thought corporate takeovers happened via computer or through share acquisition. Your life is at risk. I’m scared for you. I’m sorry your employee got shot, but I’m happy you were spared, even if that makes me a bad person.”

  “You’re not a bad person. You’re kind and generous. I’m serious about your phone though. You’ll keep it handy tomorrow?”

  “Of course, but my phone will be muted again for part of the day,” I said. “Estelle’s funeral is tomorrow.”

  “Oh.” He hesitated. “You still searching for her missing son?”

  “Yes. Now more than ever, I owe it to her to find Chili.”

  “I wish you would let it go. Someone beat that woman to death.”

  He meant well. I said that to myself silently before I spoke. “I’m careful.”

  An uneasy silence settled on the line until he said, “Two guys from Shell Island called me about the deputy who accompanied you to the bars. They thought I should know about the man you were dating. Their words, not mine.”

  The air went out of my sails at his comment, and emotion colored my words. “It wasn’t a date. I told you Deputy Hamlyn accompanied me to the bars. It wasn’t a big deal to either of us, and I thought you were happy I had backup.”

  “I wasn’t happy he was with you instead of me, but I trust you. It’s just the irritating calls on top of everything else kept me running on fumes all week.”

  “You have nothing to worry about here. I assume you’re coming home. Shall I fly out to help you pack?

  “It isn’t safe for you here, though that’s exactly where I want you. I’ll manage.”

  “I wish you were here already,” I countered. “Come home, let’s live our lives together. You need a new job without death threats.”

  “You’re the woman I want to spend my life with. Don’t give up on me, River. I’m sorting things out here, and I need to know you’re safe in the meantime.”

  “I’m safe. The doors and windows are locked. Major is out back.”

  “Major?” His tone soured. “Who’s he?”

  “A cat. I acquired a black cat this week. Didn’t I mention him already?” I yawned and sagged back into the pillows. “Sorry. I’m so tired I can barely keep my eyes open. It’s been a long day and a grueling week. I miss you.”

  “Miss you too. I want to be with you, and I’ll make it happen. Hang in there.”

  “Be safe tomorrow. Love you.”

  “Love you.”

  The call ended, and I stared at the shadowed bedroom ceiling. Pete’s company was under siege again. Others got hurt but Pete was okay. He would fix things, but he’d sunk his life savings into North Merrick. Getting his money out and walking away from a company that had his name on it would be difficult.

  But at least he was talking about it.

  Progress.

  Chapter Fourteen

  People occupied every seat of The Place of Prayer and ringed the walls. I stared at the cavernous space, built of no-frill warehouse materials. Two big viewing screens crowned a raised platform complete with a podium, microphones, and a dozen musical instruments. The traditional padded pews surprised me, but I’d never stepped foot in here before, so I shouldn’t have had any expectations one way or the other.

  Local ministers had been alarmed when this windowless box of a church went up. The sheer size of it was daunting. Then they’d scoffed because the preacher, a woman named Debra Findlay, would never fill the seats. They’d been wrong about this place and Pastor Debra.

  I wandered down the carpeted center aisle, looking for a place to sit, nodding at the people I recognized from last night’s dinner. Lucky for me, Vivian Declan waved me up to her pew, third from the front on the left. She stepped out in a cloud of something sinfully sexy to squeeze me in between her and Ms. Milly, one of the bridge ladies, who mostly smelled like moth balls.

  “Hey, Ms. Milly,” I said respectfully. “Good to see you.”

  She gave a terse nod of her cap of tight, white curls. “Good to be sitting on this side of the stage.”

  At that, I glanced to a nearby table holding an urn and a photo of Estelle. The azalea I sent sat on the floor in front of the table. “Me too.” I turned to Viv and spoke quietly. “Thanks for the seat. I didn’t know Estelle had so many friends. Everyone in the community is here.”

  “Last of her line, if Chili’s dead,” Viv whispered back. “Most folks came for the show.”

  I couldn’t conceive of a universe where a funeral was entertainment. The ones I’d attended were staid and proper. “Show?”

  “Your first time at the POP?” she asked.

  I nodded and even understood the acronym for Place of Prayer.

  “Hold onto your hat.” Viv chuckled. “This place is about to rock out.”

  A door near the platform opened and a group of musicians in dark clothing filed in and took places behind the instruments. Every microphone matched to a person.

  The lights went down, the screens glowed, and a spotlight focused on a slight young woman. The music began and she belted out a melancholy tune while the screens flashed photos of nature until they stopped on Estelle’s photo. Then the music intensified, the screens populated with words and half the people in the room stood and sang along for thirty minutes.

  A traditionalist, I was surprised by the ebullient atmosphere. Prayerful and yet not what I expected for nondenominational worship. Because I couldn’t see over the person in front of me if I remained sitting, I stood too, as did Viv. Ms. Milly staunchly sat on the pew.

  A vibrant redhead in a black robe joined the group on the dais, and the music quieted. Prayers and words of comfort flowed from Pastor Debra. She commended Estelle on living a sober and upright life and for being a wonderful mother to her sons. The pastor often raised her arms to the ceiling theatrically, the flowing sleeves of her robe making her appear angelic. After the prayers, everyone was invited to the social hall for refreshments and to meet the family.

  Viv and I exchanged glances. “What family?” I mouthed. “Chili’s not here and Kale is dead.”

  “Should be fun. I’m game if you are,” Viv said.

  “There’s no book,” Ms. Milly complained as we filed out. “In all my days, I’ve never been to a funeral where there’s no book to sign. These newfangled churches aren’t doing it right.”

  “Maybe it’s next door,” I suggested.

  “If it is, write my name in it,” she said, with a dismissive wave of her bony wrist. “I’ve had enough of this hoo-rah.”

  No one was quite sure of Ms. Milly’s age. Somewhere between ninety and a hundred, but we wouldn’t know for sure until she died, and maybe not even then. “Can I help you to your car?” I asked.

  She nudged me out of the way with her cane. “I can part the crowd as good as Moses, and I don’t want to give my great grandchildren any reason to put me in a home. I’ll do it myself.”

  I stepped out of her way with a glance to Viv. “Yes, ma’am.”

  When she’d thumped her way down the aisle a piece, Viv and I shared a smile. “I hope I’m that agile at her age.”

  Viv put a hand on her hip. “Honey, they don’t make ’em like that anymore. She’s outlived all her children and most of her grandchildren. You and I will be lucky to have thirty more good years, but sixty more? Puh-lease. Besides, who wants to be that wrinkled?”

  I thought of what a blessing it would be to be older, to have a wealth of children and grandchildren. I’d always dreamed of having a
large family. It would happen, I silently promised myself.

  We joined the throng edging toward the reception hall. From the outside, the two structures mirrored each other. Only as I was now seeing, the social hall was smaller than the church itself as it had rooms branching off it. Consequently, noise echoed in the packed hall. My gaze automatically drifted to the food table.

  Rows of store-bought cookies in plastic trays on one table and another table with cups of pre-poured punch. No one attended either table. I opted not to eat the generic cookies, though I did take a cup of the warm punch.

  “Who are the men by Pastor Debra?” I asked Viv, who clung to me like a blonde-headed burr.

  “Didn’t you hear about them?” she said, munching away on one of those sandwich cookies.

  “No. Who are they?”

  “They hung out at the Wine and Dine last night. Deputy Dawg kept his eagle eye on them.”

  I studied the two dark-suited and dark-haired men. They weren’t handsome per se, but there was something about them that drew my eye. “So?”

  “Get this. Ralph Ferarrelli and Anthony Barnegas say they’re Estelle’s long lost cousins. They moved into her house.”

  “That’s gutsy.” Neither name rang a bell. “Did they pay for her cremation?” I asked, craning my neck to see the men.

  “No. That’s even bigger news. Pastor Debra received an anonymous donation and instructions for Estelle’s funeral. Whatever money was leftover could go to the church. There was enough money for a casket funeral, but Pastor Debra went the ashes route and pocketed the rest. Ms. Milly is furious that they treated her friend that way. She gave me quite an earful before you arrived.”

  Viv ought to be the one asking questions about Chili’s disappearance. She had a much closer tie to the pulse of the community. “Did Ms. Milly spring for the expenses?”

  “No one knows who did it. Pastor Debra found a big brown envelope of cash on her doorstep. She dutifully paid for Estelle’s modest cremation expenses and banked the rest. Lance saw red when he heard about it, or so he said. The only item she had left to give him was the envelope and the letter, and those he had to fish out of the trash.”

  “How do you know all this?”

  “Bar talk, gal. You want to know anything about this berg, hang with me at the bar.”

  “No thanks. Pete didn’t like that at all.”

  “Deputy Dawg wishes you’d come back out to play.”

  “He shouldn’t. He knew it wasn’t a date last weekend.”

  “Speak of the devil.” Viv nodded toward the determined man striding toward us, hands in his pants pockets. She rewarded Deputy Hamlyn with a broad smile. “Why, Lance. How good to see you again.”

  “Afternoon, Viv, River.”

  I managed a smile, wondering how many people would report to Pete that I’d had a conversation with Lance. Surely, no one could misconstrue this meeting as a date. There were easily a hundred and fifty people squeezed into this room.

  “You find the guy that killed Estelle?” I asked.

  My comment caused his head and neck to lift. “There are no leads.”

  I nodded toward the two strangers in the room. “What about the newfound relatives?”

  He scowled. “I checked. They arrived after she was dead. I ran a background check too, just in case. No red flags.”

  “Viv says they moved into Estelle’s place. Is that legal?”

  “They claim to be her relatives.”

  “Claim is the operative word here. I don’t believe their story, and I never heard of them before. Did you run a background check on them?”

  “Why should I? It isn’t like Estelle was worth millions.”

  I barely heard him over the animated conversations nearby, so I asked him to repeat it. Finally, I understood his words. Estelle had nearly nothing in her estate, so he thought there was no point in investigating her so-called relatives.

  “What about life insurance?” I asked. “They may try to claim that.”

  “If they do, that’s the insurance company’s problem. I have no reason to vet them.”

  “Their sudden appearance seems suspect. Can’t you run a background check on them as a favor for me?”

  The two men in question flanked Lance. “Is there a problem here?” the tallest one asked.

  He towered over me by six inches and walked with the rolling gate of a waterman. The threat in his voice made me retreat a step.

  “No problem, Mr. Ferarrelli,” Lance said.

  He looked small next to the other two men. They easily outweighed him by fifty pounds and towered over him as well.

  “Good.” The two men walked out of the hall.

  “Whew. That one’s intense,” Viv said. “Wonder if he’s intense about everything?”

  “Don’t sleep with those men,” Lance warned. “They’re dangerous.”

  “I’m craving a little intensity,” Viv said, trailing after the men.

  “Vivian!” Lance called, but she didn’t stop. “I’ll rescue her in a minute. Listen, it’s too loud in here. Can we meet outside to talk about the case?”

  “I can come to your office on Monday morning.”

  “How about something sooner? Let’s meet for breakfast tomorrow at Aunt Ida’s. Seven too early for you?”

  My mouth watered already. There was always a chance the gossip patrol slept in on Sundays. “I can make seven.”

  “Good. Excuse me while I keep Viv from making a mistake.”

  He hurried away and it occurred to me that I’d made a date with the man. Rats.

  “Ms. Holloway?” a woman’s voice said.

  “It’s River,” I said to Pastor Debra. “You gave such a lovely tribute to Estelle. Thank you for that. What can I do for you?”

  “Please follow me into the sanctuary.”

  I did, puzzled when she stopped beside Estelle’s urn. “This is for you,” she said.

  The urn might as well be teeming with snakes. “I don’t understand.”

  She gestured to the ash-filled container.

  I searched deep for a voice. “You want to give me Estelle’s ashes?”

  “That’s what my instructions said. You’re to take possession of the ashes.”

  She sounded adamant. How could this be? “I read in the paper you were in charge of the arrangements.”

  “I did everything that was requested. Now, I’m finished.”

  My jaw dropped. My temples throbbed. “She should have a cemetery plot. A headstone.”

  “Those purchases weren’t specified in my instructions. If you want those items, that’s outta your pocket.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  I was supposed to pay for Estelle’s cemetery plot and headstone? I stared at the brass urn sitting on my kitchen table in bee-stung horror. As if I owned a spare cemetery plot or knew what Estelle Bolz should have on her tombstone. A person’s remains were special, sacred. I couldn’t dump her ashes in the backyard, and I darn sure couldn’t buy the lot beside her son Kale’s empty grave. Didn’t matter anyway. That space was already occupied.

  Best not to make a decision in haste.

  How bizarre that I ended up with her ashes. We weren’t blood kin. Oh, when I was little she used to say I was the daughter she never had. She knew my mom. I knew her kids. Chili had never been my boyfriend or even my best friend. We were friends. As adults, we’d done business together, but omigosh.

  Her ashes rested in my kitchen.

  “Welcome home, Estelle,” I said to the urn. “Make yourself comfortable while I change into comfy clothes. I still don’t know where Chili is, and I don’t know who beat you to death.”

  To my relief, neither Estelle nor the urn replied. I texted Viv to see if she made it home okay, and she said she was fine. After I donned shorts and a sleeveless blouse, I grabbed a g
lass of iced tea and a book and padded to the front porch. I turned on the ceiling fans and settled in for an afternoon of relaxation. Just me and my favorite author. I deserved a vacation after the week I’d had.

  Not three pages into the story, Lance’s SUV rolled into my drive. So much for my time out. I sighed as he sauntered up the sidewalk, hands in his pockets, in his usual polo shirt with the sheriff’s office emblem on it and black pants. His heavy aftershave preceded him up the stairs.

  “Afternoon, Deputy Hamlyn.” I gestured to the empty rocker near the glider I occupied. “Have a seat if you like.”

  “Hey, River.” He eased into the rocker. “Good to see you taking it easy.”

  “At Estelle’s funeral today, I realized life is short. I need breaks from responsibilities or I’ll turn into a drone.” I nodded to my glass. “Would you like water or tea?”

  “I’m good. Got a question for you about the funeral and decided not to wait until morning to have this conversation. See or hear anything related to either case?”

  Uh-oh. Breakfast at Aunt Ida’s was definitely off. “I got nothing. You learn anything new?”

  “The only new-to-you information I have is the Bolz brothers had criminal records. Each caught several speeding tickets and one DUI arrest. Both did community service after dyeing the water in the city hall fountain.”

  I grinned at the memory of a happier time. “I’d forgotten about that prank for Kale’s graduation. Neon green as I recall.”

  “That’s right. Glowed in the dark too, the file stated.”

  “How’d they pull that off?” I wondered.

  “The file said Kale claimed he’d overheard someone talking about a similar prank elsewhere, so he researched it online and purchased bioluminescent sea algae to doctor the fountain. Despite their good-old-boy exteriors, both Bolz sons had decent smarts.”

  He was talking about them both in past tense. He believed Chili was dead? I wouldn’t. I couldn’t give up hope. “You weren’t even here then.”