Funerals Can Be Murder (A Baby Boomer Mystery Book 5)

by Susan Santangelo

  Should I feel guilty that the box I gave Claire was very heavy? Nah.

  As we headed toward the front door of the funeral parlor, I noted with satisfaction that Fancy Francie’s van was already here. Two women, one of whom was Helen K., were busily unloading food.

  I shooed Mary Alice, Claire, and Nancy into Slumber Room A, then turned to make my way toward Melinda Mallory’s office.

  I screeched to a halt when I saw the woman in question sprinting toward me, her face like a thundercloud.

  “Carol, what the hell do you think you’re doing,” Melinda hissed, grabbing me by the elbow and pulling me into Slumber Room B which was, mercifully, unoccupied. “This is a respectable funeral home, not an Irish bar. You asked me to reserve Slumber Room A for a memorial service. We do not serve alcohol at a memorial service. It simply isn’t done.”

  “It’s done all the time at Irish wakes,” I countered. “And the widow requested that Will Finnegan’s memorial service be handled like an Irish wake. With all the trimmings.”

  Only a tiny lie, but I was sure that, if I’d bothered to consult Louisa, she would have agreed. And if she didn’t, I was certain I could sway her to my point of view, especially if we shared an Irish coffee or two while we were having a chat.

  “And on top of the Irish whiskey you ordered, and more Guinness Stout than Fairport’s St. Patrick’s Day celebration,” Melinda said, ignoring my explanation and continuing her tirade, “there are two strange women in our kitchen—which is reserved for staff only—warming up corned beef and cabbage and heaven knows what else.”

  Melinda wrinkled her nose. “The smell of the cabbage is overpowering. I’m very sensitive to odors.” And she sneezed for extra emphasis.

  “We could lose our license for this…this…function,” she said. “It’s probably illegal, too. What if the police show up? What’ll I do? And with my father away at a conference on new embalming techniques, I’m completely on my own.”

  The police were showing up, of course. That is, assuming Mark and Paul came through. But shutting down the memorial for illegal service of alcohol would not be tops on their agenda.

  “Now, Melinda,” I said in the voice I use to coax Lucy and Ethel into taking their monthly heartworm pills, “everything will be fine. The memorial service will only last two hours, two and a half, tops. When it’s over, I promise to help clean everything up. And Will Finnegan will have the sendoff he rightly deserves, after the unfortunate first attempt to hold a service for him here.

  “It’s the right thing to do,” I finished, yanking my arm free. “You’ll see. Everything will work out exactly as it’s meant to this time. You have my promise.”

  “Well, at this point, there really isn’t anything I can do to stop the service,” Melinda said. “Just be sure that you keep it as proper as possible. I don’t want anyone getting drunk here. Or, heaven forbid, sick from too much food and drink. We just had the carpeting cleaned.”

  She spun around and marched down the hallway to her office.

  I waited until I was sure her door was closed, and then raced to Slumber Room A to see how my gang was doing. Louisa and Jack were due to arrive in less than half an hour, and everything had to be completely ready before they got here.

  Wow. Nancy, Claire, and Mary Alice had done an amazing job.

  Slumber Room A had been completely transformed during the time I’d been having my “discussion” with Melinda. Framed photos of Will Finnegan graced every possible surface in the room, including a large poster of a smiling Will that had been hung dead center—pardon the pun—right where a casket would be if this were a traditional service.

  The chairs had been rearranged in clusters around each of the photo displays, and Irish music played in the background. A row of chairs had been placed to the left of the poster, where Louisa, her children (assuming they showed up), Jack and Deanna would sit.

  I know you’re thinking how weird it was to put Will’s girlfriend in the same row with his official widow. But, be assured that I checked the Emily Post etiquette book and found nothing to forbid that seating arrangement.

  In fact, I found nothing that covered that situation at all. So I just went ahead and did it.

  “The room is fabulous,” I said, congratulating my three cohorts. “After a few drams of Irish whiskey, I’m sure people will start to relax. Someone’s bound to say something incriminating.”

  Claire narrowed her eyes and gave me a look. “Are you crazy, Carol? That’s it? That’s all you’re going to do to force a confession, serve Irish whiskey? That’s the dumbest idea I ever heard.”

  “Of course that’s not all I’m going to do,” I snapped. “I have a brilliant plan, but you don’t need to know all the details.”

  I turned my attention to Nancy and Mary Alice. “Your job is very important. When people start to arrive, act as hostesses and keep the food and drinks coming. Especially, the drinks.

  “It would really help move things along if you acted like you were both Will’s girlfriends, too. Try to start conversations with women about the special relationship you had with him. If you could cry a little, that’d be a nice touch.”

  Nancy nodded her head. Like me, she’s a fabulous weeper when called upon. Her ability to whip up tears on demand got us out of lots of tight situations when we were in high school.

  Mary Alice looked scared. “I can’t do that, Carol. Pretend I was one of Will’s girlfriends, I mean. What if somebody I know sees me and doesn’t know I’m pretending. I’ll be so embarrassed.”

  “Just do the best you can,” I said. “And keep your ears open. If you hear anything important, tell me right away.”

  “What about me?” Claire asked. “Am I supposed to be one of the girlfriends, too?”

  “No, I have a much more important job for you,” I said. “I want you to keep your eye on Helen K. from Fancy Francie’s. She’s in the kitchen now, preparing the food to be served. She’s near the top of my list of Will’s jilted girlfriends. Cozy up to her, ask if she needs any help, that sort of thing. And start a conversation about Will. Say he did your landscaping or something. See if you can get her to talk.”

  Claire nodded. “Got it.”

  “Remember, the main purpose today is to find out the truth about Will Finnegan’s death,” I said.

  “I’ve never done anything like this before,” Mary Alice said. “What if we do find out what happened? Do we call the police? You don’t expect us to handle this all on our own, do you?”

  “Relax,” I said. “Mark will be here all during the service. Along with our least favorite police detective, Paul Wheeler. They’re counting on us to start the ball rolling. We’re their official helpers.”

  Claire raised a skeptical eyebrow.

  “No, this time we really are,” I said.

  “You’ve given us our orders,” Nancy said. “What are you going to be doing? Leading the memorial service?”

  “Don’t be silly,” I said. Although it wasn’t a bad idea. Too bad I didn’t think of it earlier.

  “I’ll be overseeing everything, and everyone. If things work out the way I hope, someone’s going to get the surprise of a lifetime.”

  I spied Deanna, the first to arrive, standing stock still at the doorway, her face white as she stared at the huge poster of the smiling Will. Nudging Mary Alice, I said, “Go help Deanna find her seat. It’s time to get this show on the road.”

  Deanna was followed immediately by Jack, Louisa, and two sullen-faced young people. I hadn’t seen that look since Jim and I took away Mike’s driver’s license for coming home reeking of beer when he was seventeen.

  I noted that the boy was wearing wrinkled chinos and flip flops, an odd wardrobe choice since it was a chilly late fall day in our corner of the world. The girl was similarly dressed down in old sweatpants and a matching sweatshirt. And flip flops.

&n
bsp; The quartet stood in the doorway and gaped at the poster of Will. “Gross,” said the girl. Louisa shushed her, then started in my direction, holding her in the same kind of death grip Melinda had used on me a short time before.

  I was pleased to hear a gasp from Nancy. Or maybe it was Mary Alice.

  “My gosh, who is that man? He looks exactly like Will Finnegan.”

  I smiled. Just the reaction I was hoping for. But from someone else.

  I made a beeline for the family before they could settle themselves in for the service, fingers crossed mentally that I’d get a positive reception.

  “Carol,” Louisa said, gesturing around Slumber Room A, “this really is…something. I never expected anything like this. Will would have loved it.” And her eyes filled with tears.

  “I’m so glad you approve,” I said, uncrossing my fingers. “I had so little time to put the service together, and since Finnegan is an Irish name, that became my theme.”

  “He didn’t deserve it,” said the young man. “I’m leaving before this stupid thing starts. Otherwise, I may puke. Come on, sis. Let’s get out of here.”

  Louisa shrugged. “What can I say? They were never reconciled with their dad. I can’t really blame them for reacting this way. Maybe it is better that they leave.” She looked at Jack for help.

  “You’re right. I’ll go out and tell them they don’t have to come back inside, Louisa,” he said.

  Jack’s offer was perfect with me. Because my plan called for Jack to vamoose from Slumber Room A asap.

  As Louisa nodded, and she and Deanna took their places as Mourners-in- Chief, I grabbed Jack by the hand and propelled him from the room.

  “I know you want to be at Louisa’s side all though the service,” I said. “But since Will was your brother, I figured it would be appropriate for you to lead the memorial service and give a eulogy of sorts.”

  Jack looked shocked. Then angry.

  “For heaven’s sake, Carol, why are you telling me this now? I don’t have anything prepared. I’m going to look like a jerk up there. You should have warned me.”

  “Don’t worry, Jack,” I said, taking a sheaf of papers from my purse. “I have the whole thing outlined for you. All you have to do is study it and you’ll be fine.”

  I looked around for a private place, and came up with the only one where I was sure none of Will’s girlfriends would find Jack. I’m sure you figured out where.

  “Just take your time, Jack,” I said, pushing him in the door of the men’s room. “I’ll knock on the door when it’s time for you to make your entrance.”

  “But, what about the kids?”

  “I’ll take care of them,” I said. “I have years of practice as a mom.”

  And, if I knew kids, they were both long gone by now, anyway.

  “Thanks a lot, Jack. You really are a sweetie.” I gave him a modest peck on the cheek. “Now, remember, don’t come out until I rap on the door. That’s very important. As a matter of fact, it’s critical.”

  Jack realized there was no arguing with me. “I just hope I can read your handwriting,” he said to my retreating back.

  Although this whole interchange with Jack had taken less than five minutes, I was shocked at the number of mourners who were already streaming into Slumber Room A. Mostly of whom were female.

  The line was moving slowly, as all of them stopped to sign the guest book, then gasped at the huge poster of Will, hanging on the wall to greet them.

  Just as I had planned.

  Several mourners were paying their respects to Louisa. And I was pleased to see that she was introducing everyone to Deanna as a dear friend of Will’s. Isn’t it odd how life can work out sometimes?

  The bar setup in the corner was doing a brisk business, and the buffet table groaned under the weight of the various food platters. I saw Claire at the buffet, helping Helen K. to arrange the plates and cutlery.

  Claire gave me a discreet nod, and I nodded back.

  Nancy and Mary Alice were circulating among the mourners as instructed. I was pleased to see that Nancy was clutching a white handkerchief, which she frequently used to dab her eyes.

  It was a nice touch, even if it hadn’t been my idea.

  “Nice party, Mom. Even if the guest of honor isn’t here to enjoy it.”

  I whirled around at the sound of Jenny’s voice. “Sweetie! I didn’t know you’d be here.”

  “Oh, come on, Mom. You didn’t think I’d miss this, did you? Especially since I was here the first time. Mark told me I could come if I was a very good girl.”

  “Mark’s here? Oh, thank goodness. Where is he?”

  “He and Paul are already at the buffet table,” Jenny said. “I should tell you that neither of them expect anything to happen today. They came because Chief Flanagan ordered them to. That’s why I got to come. If this were an official stakeout, I wouldn’t be here.”

  “I’m glad you’re here,” I said. “I can use all the support I can get. Now, I have to do something about the music.”

  I dashed to the adjoining room, where I had stashed a collection of Irish music CDs. I selected the one titled, “Coffin Music For Mourners.”

  That should do it. Nodding with satisfaction, I loaded it into the CD player and waited. In a few moments, an Irish tenor was singing, “I Am Stretched On Your Grave.”

  I turned the volume up, in case the sound didn’t travel enough to be heard next door, then realized with a start that I heard a soprano voice harmonizing with the tenor’s. And the voice was coming from Slumber Room A.

  It was Louisa, standing straight and tall in front of her dead husband’s poster, tears streaming down her face.

  Wow. Either she was the greatest actress in the world, or she really still had feelings for guy, despite everything.

  Someone had dimmed the lights, and the room was as silent as, well, a tomb. All eyes were on Louisa. It was quite a moment.

  And just what I needed to put the final touch on my plan. So I snuck out and cranked the CD player up to its maximum volume. Then I doubled back to the men’s room, tapped on the door, and whispered, “Jack, it’s time.”

  I led him into Slumber Room A. My timing was perfect, because Louisa was just finishing her song. Jack raced to her side and embraced her, then turned to face the mourners.

  And all hell broke loose.

  Chapter 45

  A clear conscience is usually the sign of a faulty memory.

  I couldn’t tell where the first scream came from. But it was immediately followed by several more.

  Just like I expected.

  I scanned the crowd and saw Mark and Paul at the front of the room. I was pleased to see that they both had their police persona in place. And were ready to act if necessary.

  “What is going on in here?” demanded Melinda Molloy, marching into Slumber Room A from a side door I’d never noticed before and heading straight to me. “Turn that music off right now. I warned you, Carol.”

  Then she turned and saw Jack. Her face drained of color and she began to yell like a banshee.

  “How can you be here? You’re dead. I know you’re dead. I made sure of that with the scissors!”

  Jack backed away from Melinda. Well, who could blame him? He had no idea what was going on. Or who this screaming woman was. Poor guy.

  In a flash, Mark and Paul were beside Melinda and led her, weeping, out of the room.

  I hoped they planned to question Melinda in the funeral home, because I had a hunch there was more drama to come. No way did I want to handle another hysterical woman, who could also be a murderer, on my own.

  By this time, Slumber Room A was in chaos. Louisa and Deanna seemed completely dazed. Jack made his way back to Louisa’s side and whispered something in her ear.

  Deanna looked at me and mouthed, “What the heck is goin
g on?”

  I shrugged my shoulders. “Beats me,” I mouthed back.

  I grabbed Mary Alice and Nancy, who were standing together near the main exit. “Mingle with the guests. Herd them in the direction of the bar. This isn’t over yet. Where’s Claire?”

  Nancy gestured in the direction of the food. “The last time I saw her, she was over there.”

  As I started through the crowd, I saw Claire beckoning to me frantically from the edge of the room. From the panicky look on her face, something was very wrong. Claire never loses her cool, no matter what.

  She grabbed me and pushed me toward the room where the CD player was still churning out Irish music at a deafening pitch.

  Jenny was on her knees, giving mouth-to-mouth resuscitation to a prostrate Helen K.

  “I think she’s had a heart attack,” Claire said. “I’ve called nine-one-one and Fairfield Ambulance is on the way. If she dies, it will be your fault. This time, you’ve gone too far, Carol. I hope you’re satisfied.”

  “That’s a terrible thing to say to me!” I said. “And it’s so unfair. I never wanted this to happen. I just wanted to find out what happened to Will Finnegan. And I thought Helen was involved.”

  A part of me felt guilty that Helen had collapsed when she thought Will had come back from the dead. Especially because I had counted on that happening, since she’d reacted exactly the same way at Fancy Francie’s.

  I made a mental note to apologize to her, later. Once I was sure she was off the official suspect list.

  “She’s coming around,” Jenny interrupted. “Stop arguing and help me get her up.”

  “I guess I overreacted,” Claire said as she and I struggled to get the still pale Helen onto the nearest chair.

  “What happened to me?” Helen asked. “Why did I collapse? Oh, now I remember. It was stupid of me to react the way I did. Will’s not worth it. Alive or dead.” She leaned back and closed her eyes. “Just give me a minute or two, and I’ll be fine.”