by Milda Harris
So, our plan was in full swing. We were standing in front of Vanessa Martin’s casket and peering in to look at her. She looked so young, with long brown hair cascading down the pillow she was lying on. She still looked youthful and full of life, just with her eyes closed. They did a great make-up job, as morbid as that sounds. If her eyes had been open, my guess is they would have been brown too. It was a sad waste. If only Ethan and I could have saved Vanessa this moment. I thought of Detective Dixon and his Styrofoam cup fetish and felt angry all over again. He should have listened to us! Maybe Vanessa Martin’s death could have been prevented if the police had even simply looked into the theory we had given them. I mean, I had even shown them her email!
From the vantage point of the coffin, we were able to clearly observe Vanessa’s immediate family. The immediate family – parents, siblings, and close relatives, were almost always sitting on the front couch in front of the casket. The woman that appeared to be Vanessa’s mother was hanging on another woman, possibly her sister since they looked a little alike and, carrying on into her shoulder. Nobody else was sitting on the front couch. Maybe Vanessa’s father wasn’t in the picture anymore. I didn’t see any siblings yet.
The rest of the room was full of the rise and fall of murmurs, as people carried on conversations in whispers. These were the relatives, friends, and neighbors mingling. Maybe one of them had some detail that would give us more to go on regarding Vanessa’s death. There were a lot of them, though, and we’d need to be very careful trying to glean information from them. In no way, could we interrogate anyone. Nobody wants to be interrogated at a funeral, especially if they’re in mourning. The last thing we needed was a hysterical scene, so a lot of our information gathering would have to be done by observation and eavesdropping.
Ethan was pulling at my arm with his hand. I had lost myself. Yes, it was time to move away from the coffin before anyone took notice of us. My hand still in his hand, he led me to some chairs toward the middle back of the room. It was a perfect place to sit, relax, and unobtrusively listen in on the whispered conversations happening around us.
I strained to hear the hushed whisperings. I was only able to catch snippets here and there of people gossiping about what went wrong with Vanessa. Another girl lost to heroin, who didn’t seem the type to do drugs in the first place. That was the general gist I got, at least, as I tried to listen in on people. It wasn’t helping much with my concentration either that Ethan was still holding my hand. He even started absently rubbing my hand in his – like we were really going out.
“What are you doing?” I whispered before I had time to think about what I was saying. I mean, what was wrong with me? My stomach was doing excited flips. Ethan Ripley was not only holding my hand, he seemed into it!
“Oh, sorry, just trying to look like a couple,” Ethan whispered back a second later, and fell back into just holding my hand in his.
Stupid, stupid, stupid, I scolded myself. What was wrong with me? I should just take what I could get. Would I ever learn to just go with it? Okay, I needed to go back to listening now.
It had to have been almost an hour since we arrived at the wake and my butt was falling asleep. It was more of the same for the last hour. Nothing interesting had happened. Most people were talking about the shock of it all. Nobody could believe Vanessa was gone.
People had come and gone, but I had spent the last twenty minutes listening to who I thought was Vanessa’s elderly aunt, prattling on about all her ailments. She had started with her arthritis and was now complaining about a pain in her lower back when she walked. She was going to see the doctor next week.
Troy Matthews had not made an appearance yet, if he was even going to. We didn’t know exactly what his relationship was with Vanessa anyway. If he wasn’t expected to be there, he had good reason not to show up. I still hoped he would.
There was a couple of younger women, probably Vanessa’s friends, wandering around in groups, but nobody odd or out of the ordinary. They all seemed normal enough. We had tried to make conversation with one group of them when they sat down next to us, but it was short lived – one of them kept tearing up and within minutes her friend had to lead her out of the room. It was really awkward and completely heartbreaking. They hadn’t come back, so Ethan and I sat back down in our chairs.
Now, the old woman I had been eavesdropping on or Aunt Eileen, as the man next to her was calling her, was complaining about her stomach, “And, I just can’t handle coffee anymore. It makes me sick. They couldn’t have brought some 7-Up for me?”
Her companion was nodding and he was probably wishing he was somewhere else. My stomach growled. I was starving. Lunch seemed like a zillion years ago.
“Are you hungry?” I whispered to Ethan, whose eyes had glazed over.
“Hungry?” He whispered back, snapping out of the bored zone he had fallen into.
His hand was still holding mine. I hoped it wasn’t sweaty or anything, my hand, that is. Even if his was, I could have held his hand forever if he’d have let me, “Yeah, my stomach is grumbling. Let’s go check out the food.”
“Food?” Ethan asked, as I pulled him toward the door, exiting the room.
There was almost always a room, from a kitchen to a living-type room, where some kind soul had brought cookies and other snacks. There was usually at least tea and coffee too, if not soda and water. I had been to this funeral home before and I knew there was a kitchen/dinette area right next to the restrooms.
Ethan followed me there in silence. This was a spot where people felt free to mingle and talk and it could be the best place for us to get some clues from Vanessa’s friends and family, but it was also going to mean that we’d have to talk to people and risk getting caught. Still, there was food and I was starving. We had already claimed to be only Vanessa’s acquaintances when we were talking to the girls in the other room. They had bought it. Hopefully, Vanessa’s relatives would buy it too, if they spoke to us. I knew in all likelihood that they would, but there was always that small chance that freaked me out.
The kitchen/dinette area was crowded with people talking, eating cookies, and drinking coffee and tea. It had to be around 6 pm by now and dinnertime. Some people had probably been there all day, so it was prime snack time. I hadn’t eaten since Ethan and I had lunch fifth period. I was starving. I glanced at Ethan, who must also have been hungry the way his eyes lit up at the sight of the snacks.
Ooo, they had cookies! There was chocolate chip, peanut butter, and snickerdoodles – heaven! I moved ravenously toward them and my butt was finally feeling blissfully awake. Thank goodness elderly Aunt Eileen and I weren’t going to have any common ailments to talk about – I’m sure she had a thing or two to say about her butt, if she was asked.
I grabbed a plate and was starting to fill it with the yummy goodness known as peanut butter cookies, until I felt Ethan’s body go completely rigid next to me. I looked up, followed his gaze, and almost dropped my cookies because standing next to the coffee pot, refilling her styrofoam cup of coffee and adding cubes of sugar, was the dead girl, Vanessa Martin.
Chapter 12: Freaking
I blinked twice. I blinked again. She was still there. It took me a good sixty seconds to rationalize why it couldn’t possibly be Vanessa Martin standing by the coffee pot getting a refill. I mean, come on, we weren’t in a world like that book Pride and Prejudice and Zombies for goodness sake. I had read that book a few weeks ago because one of my all time favorite books was Pride and Prejudice and I thought it was hilarious to find out someone had thrown zombies into the classic. Not that zombies drink coffee. They eat brains and the look-alike Vanessa was definitely drinking coffee and not eating brains. And, come on, if Vanessa Martin was alive and well, why the hell were we having a funeral?
No, no, no. She had to be Vanessa Martin’s sister. A twin sister by the freaked out expression that Ethan had on his face and I know had been matched on mine for the last minute. It wasn’t like we could ask anyo
ne – ‘Hey, why does that girl look like Vanessa Martin?’ either. It would totally give us away, hook, line, and super duper sinker, as in sinking to the bottom of the ocean.
Ethan was still staring, even though I had dropped my gaze back to the cookies on my plate. They were still there, alive and well. Phew. I looked back at Ethan, who was still gazing at the girl. I grabbed Ethan by the arm and led him to the other side of the kitchenette, near the doorway.
“Stop staring,” I whispered as quietly as I could, hoping nobody was eavesdropping on us.
“But she looks just like her,” Ethan spoke softly, tearing his gaze away to look at me.
“She has to be a twin or at the very least her sister,” I rationalized. “I don’t believe in identical cousins or people rising from the dead, at least outside of books and movies.”
“It freaked me out for a second though,” Ethan admitted and noticing my plate of cookies, grabbed one. “I thought I was seeing things.”
“Me too. Here, hold this. I’m gonna find out,” I said and handed Ethan my whole plate of cookies, as I headed toward Vanessa’s twin.
As I came toward her, she was talking to a balding man in his late fifties. I reached for the coffee pot as I tried to listen in on their conversation.
“But, Jenna, do you think you’ll be able to finish out the semester? Things were finally going so well for you, I don’t think you should push yourself too hard,” He sounded concerned.
“Don’t worry about me, Uncle Bob. I’ll be fine. I thrive under pressure,” Jenna said, sipping her coffee and looking around.
I had poured myself a full cup and looked to stall, so I reached for the powdered creamer. I also added sugar cubes. I wanted to keep listening for at least another minute or two longer.
“You pushed yourself too hard last time. You and your sister. Take it easy,” Uncle Bob urged.
“I’ll be fine,” Jenna said again, and feigned a look out of the room, “I should go in. Mom will be wondering where I’m at.”
“But, Jenna…” Uncle Bob started to say, but Jenna waved him away, already fleeing for the doorway.
I expected her to leave like she said, but instead I saw Jenna stop just before the exit, to talk to Ethan. Now, I was staring at her. Actually, I was staring at them. They almost made a cute couple, but I was actually thinking for a strange moment that Jenna looked to me like a black widow spider ready to pounce on Ethan. Still, maybe that was only because a huge pang of jealousy was coursing through me, watching Jenna talk to him. That, and Jenna was dressed all in black. I know black widow spiders also had a splotch of red on them, but whatever.
From this distance, Ethan seemed into her. He had his arm on the doorway and Jenna was leaning toward him. I knew I was staring, but I couldn’t help it. Was it possible to feel this jealous about a guy you had no chance in the world of ever going out with? Besides, it’s not like Jenna was going to pick up a guy at her twin sister’s funeral. What kind of a girl did that? I didn’t want to think about the answer to that question.
Before I could really delve into my jealousy about a possible Jenna and Ethan coupling, Uncle Bob started to talk to me, “Be careful, you’re gonna have more sugar than coffee.”
“Oops,” I had put in a good eight cubes of sugar into my coffee and although I liked it sweet, that was a little much. “I like it pretty sweet.”
“How did you know Vanessa?” Uncle Bob asked.
“My boyfriend’s sister was friends with her. I didn’t know her too well, but we thought it was sad, so we wanted to come,” I offered.
“It’s very sad. It’s like the family can’t get away from tragedy. First their dad. Now this,” Uncle Bob frowned.
“Oh?” I wondered if Uncle Bob would volunteer details.
Turned out Uncle Bob liked to gossip, “Their dad’s in jail. Embezzling, although there were more allegations, but they were never proven. Nobody ever would have known, except that he was stupid enough to get caught buying a house for his mistress, with money he wasn’t supposed to have. Tore the family apart. My sister went on anti-depressants. We were afraid she would go insane. They were completely blindsided. The girls had a really rough time of it. The family all thought the worst had passed, until…this.”
“Wow, I’m really sorry,” I managed to say and I meant it. While she was alive Vanessa had been going through a rough patch. Maybe she really did overdose. In her case it actually might make sense with that sort of family drama going on.
“What more can happen to this family?” Uncle Bob asked, but I don’t think he was actually waiting for me to answer because he continued on. “They really were the cutest little girls. Their mom always had them in matching outfits and they absolutely hated it. Vanessa was a tomboy and Jenna loved to wear pretty dresses. They were so different even though they were twins. It’s funny how that happens.”
I smiled at his reminiscing. Ah, the sentimental part of funerals – the stories are the part that really drew me to them. I loved the real remembrances of a person gone too quickly. It made me think of my mom. I wish I had more remembrances of her. If only she was still around…
By the time I managed to tear myself away from Uncle Bob, who after his brief reminiscing wanted to go on about how things couldn’t get any worse for the family, Ethan had eaten most of my cookies, and Jenna was gone, back into the casket viewing room. I, of course, was interested in Uncle Bob’s reminiscing, but how could I let Ethan eat all of my cookies?
“I saw you talking to Jenna…” I trailed off unsure what else to say, as I approached Ethan, grabbed the last peanut butter cookie off the plate, and devoured it. It was a good cookie and I was still starving. I dragged Ethan back over to the table to get some more of them.
“Yeah, she wanted to know how I knew her sister and we got to talking.” Ethan was grinning, “She’s going to meet us after the wake at The Pie Shop across the street.”
Had Ethan just asked the grieving sister out on a date? Didn’t it creep him out that she was also the spitting image of the deceased? Of course, I had no reason to be jealous of Jenna. Ethan could ask whomever he wanted to out for pie.
Ethan was looking at me oddly, “What’s wrong? This is huge! Jenna wants to talk to us about our theories. She thinks Vanessa could have been murdered too. She wasn’t a hundred percent sold, but she said it was totally unlike Vanessa to do heroin.”
“You told her our theory?” I tried to smile back at Ethan like nothing was wrong. I mean, Jenna was really pretty, even though she resembled a dead girl and all, and I couldn’t help but wonder if I was about to become the third wheel in a murder investigation.
“Well, we started talking and I felt like it would be okay to tell her,” Ethan explained. “She’s going through the same thing I am.”
I nodded, still feeling hurt for no reason. This was actually a great lead. Jenna Martin would have the inside scoop on Vanessa’s death. I just didn’t want her hitting on Ethan.
I didn’t have too much time to worry about Ethan and Jenna having a romantic connection, though, because Detective Dixon suddenly entered the kitchen/dinette area, heading straight for the coffee and his favorite thing in the world, Styrofoam cups. I know I should have felt optimistic, since Detective Dixon probably didn’t normally show up to an overdose victim’s funeral and this might be a sign that he was giving the murder angle we had suggested to him a chance, but I was actually more concerned that he would interrogate Ethan and I than anything else. We didn’t exactly belong at this funeral.
I poked Ethan, who had the same reaction as I did, and we tried to bolt, but unfortunately Detective Dixon saw us. We managed to make it out to the parking lot, though, before Detective Dixon caught up to us.
“Just drive away!” I urged Ethan as we ran to his car, but Ethan stopped and turned instead.
“Hi, Detective Dixon,” Ethan said.
Detective Dixon slowed his pace and walked up to us, “So, you want to tell me what the two of you are doing here
?”
“We could ask you the same thing,” I quipped.
Ethan shot me a warning look and turned to the detective, “Investigating my sister’s murder.”
Detective Dixon shook his head, “You’re not supposed to be here. The police are looking into the situation. Leave it alone. You don’t want to get in over your heads. Drug dealers are not nice people.”
“But Liz didn’t do drugs,” Ethan reminded him. “Did you look into Troy Matthews yet?”
“Yes, and he’s clear,” Detective Dixon said, almost too quickly.
Ethan shot me a look and I could see that neither of us believed that the detective had looked into Troy at all. He was still looking for some sort of a drug ring and here I had hoped, that maybe just maybe, he had given the murder angle some actual thought.
“Are you even supposed to be here?” I asked. “Isn’t it in bad taste for the police to interrogate the victim’s relatives at the funeral?”
Detective Dixon frowned at me, “I’m here to pay my respects and make sure that people like the two of you don’t crash the funeral. This is a serious matter. I don’t want to disrupt the family in any way. The two of you shouldn’t be here.”
I nodded, but I didn’t believe him. Detective Dixon was definitely at the funeral for a reason. He was investigating the case.
“The police have this under control,” Detective Dixon said again. “Go home.”
“We were just about to,” Ethan said, unlocking the car doors.
We both got in the car in silence. Detective Dixon watched us back out of our spot and drive out of the parking lot. Ethan and I rode in silence. I watched Detective Dixon out of the side mirror. As soon as we turned out of the parking lot, the detective walked back inside the funeral home.
“All clear,” I said.
Ethan took the next opportunity to make a u-turn and head over to The Pie Shop across the street. Hopefully the detective wouldn’t be going for pie after the wake too.
