“Thanks. No point vacuuming the suite or the hallway to the garage until we get the flowers out of there. There will be petals and leaves all over. I’m going to do my best to get as many arrangements over to the cathedral as possible. Most nursing homes don’t take funeral flowers anymore and I hate to throw them in the dumpster while they’re still fresh. I think we should make a few arrangements from the leftovers for the shelter and take them over when we visit Winter.”
“That’s a great idea, very thoughtful.” The two of them got to work: Sue hummed as she cleaned; Jennifer caught up on the email, called Desta to discuss the transfer, and asked her to see if Marcia could bring the transfer vehicle with flowers trays so they could double their load. She phoned Peter, who was getting bored with just his social media work and was anxious to get back to the funeral home. He was seeing his doctor in a few days and hoped to be fully mobile on crutches.
Jennifer then called Regina, who suggested they visit Winter the following day. Nothing had changed, Regina told her, Winter was still not engaging in conversation or responding to anyone. Jennifer’s heart sank, she was hoping Winter might show some sign of engagement, or offer a clue as to what or who she was grieving.
She leaned back in her chair and looked up at the ceiling. Shaking her head sadly she thought, if only Winter could give us a clue. Anything we could work with. Her grief and pain must be too horrible to face. Jennifer sat quietly for a few more minutes before returning to her work.
Opening the Gordon file, she scanned it slowly. Once she was sure all the details were covered she pulled up the national news on her computer.
A headline caught her eye, rather the byline did. It was written by Anne Spencer. Jennifer caught her breath, she always got a little excited when her sister went national.
The article was about an affinity fraud. Anne had mentioned it to Jennifer when they were in Las Vegas a few months ago. Victims were embarrassed and ashamed and often refused to discuss it with media or police, making it challenging for police and prosecutors. Anne had been investigating a religious television network for some time. Part I of the article outlined the individuals who perpetrated the fraud and how they approached and won over their victims. As she read, Jennifer was shocked at the size of the fraud and the number of people who’d lost their life savings. In spite of their loss, most still refused to speak out. Anne’s research and tenacity in getting facts were evident in the first part of the piece. Jennifer sent her a text congratulating her on the article and told her she was looking forward to Part II.
She heard Marcia’s and Jeff’s voices as they entered the funeral home together. “Jeff and I are off to the crematorium,” said Marcia, poking her head into Jennifer’s office. “We have the funeral coach. I’ll leave the other van so you can load the flowers and pick up our funeral suits at the cleaner’s on the way back.”
“Thanks Marcia, thanks Jeff. See you later.” Satisfied she had caught up on the phone calls and emails, Jennifer entered the suite and started moving the family flowers to the garage. She then scouted the rich selection of arrangements in the chapel and pulled the occasional flower to take to Winter. Coming across an Osiria rose she pulled it to add to Winter’s bouquet. She took a deep sniff. The rose was an exquisite mixture of white and purple. Jennifer would always associate an Osiria rose with Mr. Wisener.
She placed the flowers in a glass vase and took it upstairs, hoping to brighten the apartment a bit before she took them to Winter. Grimsby greeted her at the door. She tossed him a treat, and rubbed his ears. Making a tray of sandwiches for the staff for lunch, Jennifer popped it in the fridge, then went back downstairs.
As she entered her office the phone rang. It was the bank manager, who introduced himself as Austin Putnam, assuring her that the financing of Williams Funeral Home was possible. He asked her what time she wanted to come in to review the mortgage. She requested the possibility of him coming to the funeral home instead. He agreed. They set the time for fifteen minutes before Jennifer closed the funeral home that evening. ‘Having a police sidekick makes taking care of business awkward, she thought. On the other hand, it’s nice to have the bank come to me. That would never have happened before I took over the funeral home.
Jennifer felt her anxiety grow at the thought of being responsible for the Gordon funeral; it was too large. She felt restless, as if she had not caught up with all the little details a funeral that size demanded, even though she’d gone over her checklist more than once. She had rehearsed it over and over in her head, trying not to obsess minute details. What if someone forgets to put the pall on the casket or put it on incorrectly? What if the pallbearers face the wrong way and the casket goes on the grave backwards? What if ...
Stop it, she said to herself. Large funeral, small funeral, owner or funeral director, your anxiety’s going to be the same. You’ve done dozens and dozens of funerals and you know what to do. If you do make a mistake it makes you human. You’re not perfect. People are not there to watch you, they are there to support the Gordon family. Her self-talk helped bring her anxiety down a few notches.
She took a deep breath and went looking for Sue, finding her dusting the already clean front office.
“Ready for a break?” Jennifer asked. “Tea or coffee?”
“Tea sounds great. Be right there.”
Marcia texted Jennifer just as she finished make the tea. “How tall is Sue?” she asked.
“How tall are you Sue?” Jennifer asked aloud as Sue entered the lounge.
“5’7.”
Jennifer sent the info to Marcia who came right back with: Have funeral suit that should fit her. We R same height.
“Marcia has a funeral suit for you, if you are comfortable with that.”
“From detective to director! It’s a good cover. Tell Marcia thanks, I’ll take her up on it. Speaking of detective,” Sue added, raising an eyebrow as she caught Jennifer’s gaze. “I’d like to review today’s procedures with you in the event that something happens. I don’t think for a second Travis will show up, but we do need to have a plan in place. Tell me what you’ll be doing from the time you leave here until we return.”
Jennifer went through every step with Sue, it took over ten minutes to cover it all. She finished a final reminder to put her phone on vibrate or meeting mode during the service.
“We could ask the police escort to stay at the cemetery entrance,” said Sue, mostly to herself. “The OPP didn’t say much other than they would have a few people there. Should be able to spot them. Then there’s me. That’s about five.” She stopped her musing. “I need something from you Jennifer.”
“Sure. What?”
“I need you to listen. If I tell you to get down or move, don’t think about it, just do it. Are we on the same page here?”
Jennifer looked at Sue carefully and nodded. “We are.”
“Good. Now, tell me what you want me to do as a funeral employee so I don’t stick out.”
“You can ride with me. We have enough staff with the limo company. Just follow me around. Putting Marcia on lead car was a good idea, it allows me some flexibility and we can leave the cemetery before everyone else.”
“Are we in a car?” asked Sue.
“The funeral coach.”
“With the casket?”
“Yes.” Sue looked a little strained. “Is that going to be a challenge for you?” Jennifer asked kindly.
Sue exhaled. “It reminds me of my mom’s funeral. I tried to get into the hearse when she died. I was only four years old mind you, but I wanted her back. My dad pulled me out.”
Jennifer felt bad for her, losing the years of not knowing her mother and having to live with such a horrific memory. “Riding in the coach might be a challenge under the circumstances. I could put Jeff on coach and you and I could drive one of the family cars if that would help.”
“We can’t change the past. It’s not a good memory, I admit that, but it is behind me. I was lucky to have had a good s
tepmom.”
They heard the garage door open and the sound of voices.
“Our suits are hanging in the garage. Who’s hungry?” asked Marcia.
“I made sandwiches earlier,” said Jennifer. “And there are cupcakes.”
“Perfect,” said Marcia. “Nice and light.”
Shortly after 1 p.m. Jeff met up with the limo service and left to get the Gordon family. When they arrived at the funeral home they spent some quiet time together in the suite. After greeting hundreds of visitors, they were starting to show fatigue. When the time came to leave for the church, Jennifer pulled the coach up to the chapel doors, organized the pallbearer’s, and gave them their instructions. If Sue’s uncomfortable riding in the coach she hides it well, Jennifer thought as the procession pulled out.
All went well: the procession pulled up to the cathedral at 1:55 p.m.; the officiants were waiting; Marcia seated the family; Jennifer and Jeff placed the pall and wheeled the casket to the altar. The church was packed. The music from the organ and choir swelled and filled the sanctuary with the richness of sound. Jennifer loved the music, she never tired of it.
At the end of the service, the process was reversed and the procession, led by a police escort, left for the cemetery. As the procession started, Jennifer felt a subtle, intense shift in Sue’s mood. She broached the subject with her.
“My job for today is nearly over. I sense you’re on heightened alert.”
“I am. As I said earlier, Travis could hide in this crowd. I just don’t think he would. There’d be no point. With all the politician’s and mayors and former mayors present one has to wonder if he’s connected to any of them.”
Because of the size of the crowd attending the graveside service, Marcia asked the pallbearers to take the casket to the grave immediately. Cars were still parking by the time the casket was placed. Jennifer and Sue stood a respectful distance away and watched, monitoring the approaching mourners. Jennifer had arranged for family seating and an awning and, once the family took their places and the mourner’s assembled, the short graveside service began.
Marcia timed everything perfectly, thought Jennifer. Working in Toronto with numerous interments in a day the cemetery staff encouraged the funeral directors not to waste time. Roads in and out of many older cemeteries were too narrow to take more than one car, and if two processions met on one of those roads it was chaos. It was much easier if the cemetery staff worked with the funeral homes and had one of their people lead the way to the grave site. Jennifer’s recurring nightmare of driving around and around a cemetery unable to find the grave would haunt her dreams when she had a large service, like the Gordon funeral, to do. Last night had been no exception; she’d wakened with a start and disturbed Grimsby.
“We can leave now,” said Jennifer. “Are you OK with that or do you need to scan the crowd more?”
“I’d like another minute.”
“Of course.” Sue moved alone down the line of cars. Within thirty seconds a man approached Jennifer. Her heart pounded.
“Ms. Spencer?”
“Yes?” Jennifer knew Sue was watching, but she was scared.
The man handed her an envelope, turned and disappeared quickly into the crowd. Sue quickly returned to her.
“Let’s go,” she said. “They’re on it.”
Jennifer was routed to the spot, her heart pounding in her chest. Sue took her arm and steered her to the coach. “I’ll drive,” she said. “May I have the keys?”
Jennifer responded to the pressure of Sue’s hand squeezing her arm and pulled the keys from her pocket. Only when they were safely in the car and pulling away did Jennifer fully focus on her surroundings. She saw three men walking quickly to a vehicle. The man who handed her the envelope was in the middle.
“They got him!” said Sue happily. “Yes!” She turned to Jennifer. “Oh my gosh, I’m sorry. I got caught up in the moment. Are you OK?”
Jennifer’s laugh was a bit weak. “You knew this was coming?”
“If Travis was going to have someone hand you another envelope what better place than a funeral? He knows you well, knew you wouldn’t make a scene.” Sue’s voice grew serious. “He’s toying with you.”
Jennifer nodded. “I’m glad you’re here. Are you going to be able to be part of the interrogation?”
“No. My job is you.” Her smile made Jennifer feel much safer.
“Tomorrow we go to see Winter?” asked Sue. “Do you have a time yet? Our self-defence officer wants to get started. If there are no funerals we could use the lounge.”
“We’ll probably visit in the morning. I want to go the Falls and walk down the parkway to look at the initial’s in the tree.”
“I have a friend at a Toronto station checking on Winter’s background. He promised to have that information to me tomorrow.”
Sue’s pulled her phone from her pocket and hit answer. She handed the phone to Jennifer. “Will you put it on speaker, can’t answer while I’m driving.”
Jennifer complied.
“Ziegler.”
“Where are you going now?” said the officer on the other end of the line.
“Funeral home. ETA less than five minutes. Good job.”
“Yeah,” said the officer. He disconnected. Sue slowed for a stoplight.
“Sue,” said Jennifer quietly. “Look.”
Standing on the sidewalk at the corner was Travis. He looked straight at Jennifer.
8
Travis. How did he find me? Jennifer’s brain froze after that thought. It felt as if time stood still she was so frightened. The expression on his face masked nothing—dark and sinister he held her gaze. She couldn’t move or speak; she felt like a deer in the headlights. She could only watch. He took a step toward the funeral coach.
“Cripes,” said Sue. As she grabbed her phone, Travis turned and walked the other way.
Jennifer didn’t listen to Sue’s conversation. She tried to watch him as he walked down the street and turned the corner, but with the coach a few cars back he disappeared quickly. Jennifer’s heart slammed against the walls of her chest. Her shoulders curved in with the ache. When the light changed and Sue pulled into the intersection, Travis was gone.
“He must have ducked into one of the buildings or had a car waiting,” said Sue in frustration. “We can’t follow him. I have to get you back to the funeral home.”
A squad car approached in the other lane, lights flashing and turned down the street Travis had gone. Sue acknowledged the officer with a nod.
“I cannot believe the nerve of that man,” barked Sue. “He was taunting us. He can’t know his guy was apprehended, not yet. He knew our route. Knew you were in the hearse.”
“Maybe the guy who handed me the envelope texted or called him.”
“We’ll know soon enough, once we get our hands on his phone.”
“Let’s check the note when we get back to the funeral home.” Jennifer tried to settle her racing mind. “I want to take a photo.”
“There’s an officer on the way to pick it up. They’re probably waiting for us.”
“Then I’ll open it now. I tried not to touch it. I didn’t even notice if the man had gloves on or not.”
“He did. That’s what made me suspicious. I saw him put them on as he stood at the edge of the crowd.” Sue exhaled slowly, her anger diminishing. “I think Detective Sergeant Gillespie is expecting an intact envelope.”
“Then don’t look while I open it,” said Jennifer. “I don’t want to compromise the investigation, but I do need to know what’s going on.”
“Fair enough,” said Sue, her eyes on the road as Jennifer opened the envelope.
It is not death, but dying that is terrible.
Jennifer read it aloud then pulled her phone out and snapped a photo just as they pulled into the funeral home. She had to take the photo twice, her hands shook so much.
“Where should I park?” asked Sue.
“Back the coach into a spot c
lose to the garage behind the building.” Jennifer noticed a car parked near the garage.
“There’s our mailman.”
Jennifer watched as a plainclothes officer got out of the vehicle and took the note from Sue. Sue unlocked the door and the officer and Sue led the way into the funeral home, checking carefully for signs of an intruder. When they were satisfied it was clear, they chatted for a few minutes in the lounge. Jennifer went inside and straight to her office. Her hands still trembled as she did a Google search. She looked up the quote: it was by Henry Fielding, author of Tom Jones.
Glancing at the time she realized she had about an hour before the bank manager came. She needed to decompress, do something physical and mindless. She took off her jacket and started vacuuming. The physical work helped push her anxiety into the background. I
haven’t seen Sue for a while, thought Jennifer about halfway through her task. She turned off the vacuum. Walking towards the lounge she could hear Sue talking to Marcia, laughing about something together. Jennifer allowed herself a smile. Probably Ryan, she thought. She decided to let them visit and went back to work.
Cleaning up after a funeral tended to make her a little sad for her families. The hard part for the family, the long days and nights, holidays were ahead. The funeral was just the beginning of the journey. She was lost in thought when Marcia came up behind her and tapped her on the shoulder.
She shrieked so loud even Marcia jumped. They both burst out laughing as Sue poked her head around the corner.
“It never fails,” laughed Marcia gleefully. “I get her every time. Coffee’s on, let’s sit for a minute.”
Jennifer settled into her favourite club chair with her coffee.
“That was a good funeral. The staff did well, you were cool, calm, and collected,” said Jennifer.
“Did you see Mr. Whitney hovering on the sidelines?” asked Marcia. “I think he was hoping for an epic fail.”
“I did notice the grave set-up was perfect this time,” laughed Jennifer. “Once word gets out that we own two funeral homes the poor man will be apoplectic.” She looked at Sue and Marcia. “So what were you two yakking about?”
Winter's Mourning Page 8
