Yew to a Kill

by Kim Smith

  “Oh, so you do remember me?” Dwayne asked, pulling out a metal folding chair at the table and sitting on it backwards. The clang of the metal legs against the concrete floor was deafening and Dwayne seemed to enjoy the way he startled the man with the noise. “What do you know about this shit then?”

  “I have no use for Rafe. I never have.”

  Now I was like a poker player waiting on cards. Something was going on here, and I was not being included. No wonder Dwayne was so surly as we came in.

  “Funny you should say so. I never did ask, did I? But since you mentioned it, is he involved in Bubba’s murder?” Dwayne asked.

  “How should I know? I know he could be. That’s all I’m saying.”

  “And I’m asking you if you think he is involved, that’s all I’m askin’.”

  The man glared at him. “Do you?”

  “You ever see the movie Sixth Sense?” Dwayne asked.

  “No,” he answered, tapping the picks absently.

  “It’s about a kid who can see dead people. No one else believes him but the doctor who’s working with him. Well, in the end we find out the kid is talkin’ to a dead person. His doctor. The damn doc is the deadest of them all.”

  The silence grew deeper as the two sized each other up, and I stood with my mouth open waiting for the other shoe to fall.

  “So what are you saying?” the man asked finally, his voice a hushed whisper.

  “I’m sayin’, maybe what you think is true ain’t the truth at all,” Dwayne said, shoving the chair away. The action sent it spinning a few feet where it came to rest still upright. Dwayne straightened. “Maybe what you see is just what you wanna see.”

  “I know what I know, man. And—”

  “Bull shit. The clues say the real tale. The cops believe in all those hidden signs like that movie had. You know, stuff dressed up in red, there just to catch our attention, only we don’t see them until someone points them out.”

  With a disgusted cluck of his tongue against his teeth, Dwayne spun around and strode out the door. I ran to catch up. Later, in the car, I wanted to grill him like a bison burger, but I could tell he was in a black mood, and I would likely get no answers.

  ####

  Tuesday morning, I met Dwayne at the office.

  I plopped my bag down on the desk in the front room and walked into my space. He followed me in and dropped into a folding chair.

  “We can’t be stepping on SLPD’s toes through all this mess. We’ll get chunked in the pokey,” he declared.

  “Ha! You’re a big one to talk. You haven’t even spilled your guts about that incident at Pearl’s Petunias. And if that isn’t interfering in their case, well, I don’t know what is.”

  “Drop it, Wall-ass. You’re in way over your head. It’s not about their case. It’s totally private business.”

  I wrinkled my nose at his hot temper. “Oh. Well, I don’t know what the plan is then. I’d hate to do anything to piss you off.”

  He dropped his gaze. “Sorry. Don’t mean to take it out on you. That guy, Clyde something or other? He was interested in Bubba. I guess he got told.”

  “Told?”

  “Yeah, you know, brushed off. For Rafe’s sake.”

  This was the closest he’d ever come to letting me in on his private life. I started my computer. “Okay then, that’s all I needed to know. It’s okay if you keep your business to yourself, I guess. I just want to make sure you’re not keeping information from me that might get me into trouble with Sal.”

  He nodded. “I know, right?”

  “Right. So, we can forget the documentary crap so far as Pearl’s is concerned. In fact, that whole idea turned out to be a bad one. Now, there’s a good possibility someone at Bubba’s funeral might be a suspect. You know sometimes the killer comes to the big send-off. Least, that’s what happened to me.”

  He coughed a little. “Um hm. I remember.”

  “I’ll take my camera for certain. We need to ask around about that contest. We should stay over at the flower shop in case the killer or killers decides they want to have another look around.”

  Dwayne gave me a horrified look. “Like we need to be there and get killed, too. You’re nuts.”

  “Yes, as a rachet rabbit. But that’s what keeps us in video money, don’t forget.”

  He closed his eyes and in his best Desi Arnez voice said, “Ay ya ya ya.”

  “So I say, we have nothing else to do today, why not go visit that Stegall guy?”

  Dwayne sat up straighter. “That casket place? That’s gonna scare my goose.”

  “You should have pre-plans anyway. It’s a smart thing to do.”

  He jabbed his thumb into his chest for emphasis. “How did I know this was gonna become a plan about me and dying?”

  “Come on, let’s go. When you were on the phone with them yesterday, it occurred to me that if he is still holding Carrie’s spot for the contest, maybe we can talk him down on the entry fee. I will get Aunt Nancy to loan me some money. She’s always hollering about my lack of Christian love and stuff.” I placed my hand on my heart and looked heavenward. “We can pay if for her. You know, a sort of gift?”

  He sighed and finally nodded in agreement, albeit a bit reluctantly. He knew our financial situation as intimately as I did. But giving a gift to his friend’s sister? I knew that would get him.

  After calling my aunt, who agreed to drop cash off at my bank account on her way to run errands, Dwayne drove us to Crafty Casket over on Valerie Road. It used to be a furniture company until the owners moved their organization to Taiwan where they could obtain cheaper labor.

  When we walked into the front room, it was like being in the funeral home. Dark, quiet, and smelling like lilies, the room instantly made me recoil. I hoped Dwayne wasn’t watching. He was worse than anyone I’d ever seen about dead people and anything to do with dead people.

  A pretty young brunette dressed in a pink tee shirt greeted us from behind a tall counter. She looked like she might just be out of high school, maybe a freshman in college.

  “Can I help you?” she asked. I noticed the lip ring and wondered if she ever got grief from customers about it.

  “Yes, you may. We’re looking for Mr. Stegall. Is he in?” I brushed off a piece of lint from my black jacket and hoped I looked presentable. I wanted him to agree to everything I asked for, so he had to like me in every way.

  “He’s back in the store room checking on stock. I’ll just go get him.” And she pushed through a swinging door to the storeroom or whatever might lie behind.

  Dwayne poked me in the ribs. “If you say one word about checkin’ into pre-arranged funeral stuff and wantin’ to look at caskets, I’ll never speak to you again.”

  “Well, it might break the ice if he thinks we are buying something.”

  “Uh, uh. No way.” He thrust his lower lip out like a two-year old.

  When the swinging door swung outward and a thin man with hollow cheeks and a receding hairline strode toward us, I smiled my best Scarlett O’ Hara smile. If Dwayne wouldn’t play the needy customer part, we would have to do it the other way.

  “Dear Mr. Stegall,” I said, a little breathlessly. “How are you today?”

  “Fine, fine,” he said, smiling in return. Tentatively, he held out his hand to shake. He appeared to be trying to place my face and came up empty. “How can I help you folks?”

  “Well, my friend and I were wondering if you had any openings left on that contest? You know the one for casket spreads? We overheard some talk, and you know how it is in small towns. We just had to come over and get the whole story.”

  He nodded. “Oh yes, indeed I do. Let me just grab a copy of the rules and regulations.” He leaned over to a small clear plastic brochure stand and lifted one of the colorful tri-fold pieces of paper out. “Here you go. It’s all in there, but if you have questions you can certainly ask, or call me later. The numbers are all listed.”

  “Oh? So you do have roo
m for one more? How wonderful! Isn’t that wonderful, Dwayne?” I put my hand on my heart and bit my lips with eyes pointed skyward. “I just know we can do this. That prize money will pay for a lot of necessities.”

  Stegall’s ears practically swiveled. “You sound like winning is of vital importance, er...Miss...Mrs...?”

  “It’s Miss. Miss Wallace. I’m so sorry, I never did introduce myself. I’m Shannon Wallace and this is my friend, Dwayne Brown. We’re working with Miss Carrie Thames. Poor thing.” I paused to wipe an imaginary tear. “She’s so lost now with her dear brother gone.”

  Stegall’s mouth formed an oh, and his smile deepened. He was just like a crappie bobbing on my stringer. He coughed softly and said, “I spoke to Miss Thames about this the other day. I told her all she needed to do, and I even promised her a spot. I’ll keep it open for her.”

  “How fabulous!” I reached out and patted his arm. “Thank you so much, Mr. Stegall. She’s going to be so grateful to you for your kindness. I just know it. And,” I leaned closer. “You will keep the fee down for her, right? I’ve brought my checkbook, ready to pay the fee. If you can make it affordable of course.”

  “Well, five hundred dollars, same as everybody,” he said, removing his arm from my touch.

  I pursed my lips and shrugged. “Oh well, we haven’t got that much, and wouldn’t it be just terrible if she didn’t fulfill her Bubba’s last wish?” At the last, I tried to squeeze a tear out for real. It was hard, until I poked myself in the eye with my knuckle.

  Mr. Stegall squirmed. “Well, I sure would hate to be unfair—”

  “There’s only a hundred dollars to spare. She told me so. Poor Bubba, he left her with a terrible load,” I interjected. Dwayne shut his mouth tightly and nodded at this. I supposed he was amazed at what was unfolding. I certainly had brass.

  Stegall thought for a few moments. Then he nodded and said, “I guess I can accept that. But y’all can’t tell a soul though. I’ll be ruined. No one will ever enter such a contest again.” He moved aside and muttered to the brunette who stood with her pierced brows raised in surprise.

  I pulled out my checkbook and assured him we would be as silent as a grave. I didn’t realize the impact of my words until I heard Dwayne coughing. I caught his own tears of laughter as he turned away and gave me room at the counter to sign the check.

  Chapter Seven

  On Wednesday, Dwayne and I drove together to the funeral in the florist’s van and he parked it behind the building at the funeral home where a couple other vendors were parked. We hurried around to the front. Dwayne carried a hastily-planted philodendron gingerly, careful to keep it away from his gray suit. I had my smallest video camera tucked in my tote, and we both sported the required set of dark glasses to hide red, swollen eyes if we cried. And we would. We always did.

  Jason greeted people as they entered, and Theo, his assistant, kept guests moving to the right rooms. When we approached, Theo looked down at the plant and then raised eyebrows at me. “For the Thames funeral.”

  He tilted his head back slightly and examined me until I felt uncomfortable. What he was questioning, I had no idea.

  Jason interrupted our stare-out. “If you’re here for the Thames ceremony, you should get going. They’ll be starting soon.”

  We’d arrived in plenty of time to view the body, do some quick surveillance, and find seats. Bubba looked pretty nondescript in death; gray, ashy skin and dolled up in a pale blue suit straight out of the seventies.

  Dwayne shivered as we walked away from the dais. “That suit. Ugh.”

  “Only you would think of that now.”

  “Can’t help that I’m precise in my fashion sense. Bubba would kill whoever put him in that get-up.”

  “Riiiight,” I whispered. “Mr. I-Don’t-Know-Peach-From-Apricot.”

  He ignored me and made his way to a seat. I kept walking to the back of the room, where I set up near a curtained off area to film the guests as they filed back and forth to the casket and out into the waiting area.

  No one seemed out of place. They either knew Bubba’s family, or they were family themselves. That is, until Sal and Dan showed up. I gritted my teeth. He saw me and sidled over.

  “What’re you doing here, Miss Wallace?”

  “Filming,” I answered. Then for emphasis, I pulled out the camera, adjusted the viewfinder, and angled it for the best picture. Then, I tapped the record button.

  He lowered his voice. “For what reason? Don’t you think this is just a tad macabre even for you?”

  I punched the record button again which paused the now-running capture, and turned to face him. I hoped the disgusted look I was aiming for worked.

  “I’m providing my services to the deceased’s family just as you are, Detective. And don’t think I don’t know about the little item you swiped from my apartment. You’re playing dirty, but remember you’ve met your match.”

  He caught my free hand and lifted it to his lips. “Watch yourself, Caro, you’re talking to a cop.”

  I snatched my hand back as if he’d shocked it, then fumed when he grinned at my discomfort. He sauntered back to where his partner, Dan Justice, waited. They went over to Mr. Thames, Bubba’s father, to offer condolences or whatever it was cops said when they were at a funeral.

  My hand still tingled a little, and I tried to shake off my attraction. Sal was bad news no matter how I looked at it. I wished my body understood that. I watched him moving around the room, and it occurred to me that he had been busier than usual lately, working a lot of hours. Wondering why that mattered to me made my head throb over one eye.

  I filmed Mr. Thames for a while. He was an enigma to me. Stocky, hair cut short in a steel-gray severe style reminiscent of his military days, and a voice nothing short of rough. I made a mental note to ask Carrie what his title had been. I was voting for drill sergeant. His whole demeanor said he was a take-charge, put-up-with-no-bull sort of person. I remembered what she said about not mentioning the G word in his hearing. What would he do if he found out his son was gay? Would he be upset enough to kill him over it?

  Carrie and her mother flitted among the guests, stopping to view Bubba’s body with anyone who cared to see him. Carrie no longer cried each time, thankfully, but her eyes had swollen to slits, and her makeup was smeared. Her mother disappeared behind the black curtain pulled to one side to give privacy to the family.

  Carrie stood talking to her father.

  What if Carrie and Mr. Thames were in cahoots with one another? Even though Dwayne claimed she had been out on a date and had an alibi, I wasn’t letting her off the hook so fast, everyone knew murderers were usually someone close to you.

  I set the camera on a small table off to the side of the casket, and let it roll. Then, I hurried to where Dwayne was saving my seat. I could retrieve the video equipment after the service. I decided to shoot the cemetery gathering, too. You never knew who might show up; vandals, killers, just about anyone.

  “Where have you been?” Dwayne asked, relief flooding his face.

  “Filming.”

  He put his hand on his heart. “Girl, you know I hate doing these things alone. Don’t leave me again.”

  “All right. Don’t get your drawers in a knot about it.”

  He pulled out a wad of tissues and thrust them at me. “You better keep some handy. Just as soon as that fat lady in the pink hat behind us wails, I’m gonna to lose it.”

  I looked away. “Well, not me. I’ve been spending time at a therapist’s office, trying to get a thicker skin.”

  “Must be nice. I’ve spent twenty dollars at the spa for three months trying to soften mine,” he sighed.

  The music started and kept me from clonking him one.

  He didn’t make it through the service without a lot of tears, and I genuinely felt sorry for him. It is hard saying goodbye to your friends.

  After the service, when everyone filed out of the building to head for cars, I took my camera from the table
and filmed the crowd discreetly from a distance. I wanted to make sure I got as many of the guests as possible. If Bubba’s murderer was in there, I could easily have him or her on camera. Sooner or later, someone’s face would help either us or the cops.

  ###

  Dwayne drove the van around the lot, getting into place so we could go with the procession down to the graveside. When I realized I was going to miss my ride with him if I didn’t speed it up a little, I cut the camera off and bounded over to his car.

  “Did you see anything?” he asked as I slid in. “Don’t know. Got just about everyone here on screen, though, so maybe I have something and just don’t know it yet.”

  He shifted to drive. “I guess so.”

  “Where to from here?”

  He looked at me. “You have to ask? That weird Japanese dude already cornered me and asked if we’ve come to any conclusions in the Great Cemetery Burglary Caper. I guess Jason filled him in. I told him we were onto something and planned to set a trap.”

  My mouth fell open. “A trap? What kind of trap do you have in mind, Slick?”

  He frowned. “Hell if I know. I figured with your connivin’ mind we’d come up with something.”

  “Oh brother.”

  We got out at the graveside, and I walked slightly to the left of the area, peering under the maroon awning at the guests who were seated. Dwayne followed me as I moved around the back of the group, observing all the guests standing outside the covered area. Nothing appeared unexpected.

  Situated a short distance away, arms folded, dark glasses in place, the funeral home bunch were like black crows waiting for the service to end so they could usher the family back into their limos.

  Theo and Jason wore matching suits, reminding me a little of the Blues Brothers. Especially with the extremely serious faces on them.

  I turned back to the group at hand. If a killer was among them, he or she was camouflaged like a patch of the Bermuda grass spanning out in every direction. My gaze fell on Mr. Thames. Donald. Drill sergeant. His head was held high, and his total erectness seemed off to me. He should be bowed by the grief, not buoyed up. But the pain of loss did strange things to people.