What She Deserved

by A. L. Jambor

  Now, as Junior looked down on Charlie in his prepaid casket, he smiled. It had a flaw on the side facing away from the mourners, and Ginger hadn't taken the time to look at it closely. It was a small thing, but the idea that Charlie Jackson would be spending eternity in a flawed casket gave Junior a deep sense of satisfaction. It felt almost as good as the day Senior had his back yard paved so that mourners wouldn't have to pay for parking.

  Constance and Mari pulled up to McGinty's in her 2005 Chevrolet sedan and both were stunned when they saw the parking lot full of cars.

  "I didn't expect so many people," Mari said.

  "He was a son of a bitch, but even sons of bitches have friends," Constance said. "And enemies."

  Mari had only been to two funerals in her entire life -- her father's and her mother's -- and she had been numb during the services. As she entered the building with Constance, she saw the sign for Mayor Charles Jackson's memorial and they went inside.

  "He always brought out a crowd," Constance said.

  "But he hasn't been the mayor for years."

  "Sweetie, these good folks are paying their respects so they can go to the buffet at Morton's following the service."

  They entered the room and saw the casket at the other end. Mari scanned the room looking for Ginger.

  "Are you looking for someone?" Constance asked.

  "Charlie's sister, Ginger. She's the reason I'm here. She asked me to come."

  "I don't recall her name as one of the sisters."

  "She was born when they went back to Wisconsin."

  Constance was quiet and had a quizzical look on her face.

  "She's never mentioned in any of my books."

  "I know. I was pretty surprised when I met her." Mari hesitated. "She told me she was their fifth child."

  Mari watched Constance's face for a reaction, and she wasn't disappointed. Constance's eyes widened.

  "She said fifth child?"

  "Yes, their fifth."

  Constance narrowed her eyes. "Which one is missing?"

  "She talked about her sisters and Charlie."

  Constance's eyebrows went up. "Let's find a place to sit before they're all gone."

  When they found two seats together, they left their bags on them.

  "Let's go to look at the old bastard."

  "Constance!"

  She took Mari's arm and they went to view Charlie Jackson's earthly remains.

  "She did a good job," Constance said. "He almost looks alive."

  "She's the one who owns the beauty salon, right?"

  Constance nodded. "Greta Fisher."

  "I think she did my hair."

  "She does everyone's hair."

  Ginger came up behind them and put her hand on Mari's shoulder.

  "I'll be so glad when this is over," Ginger said softly. "When I saw him in here, it finally hit me that he's really gone."

  "Ginger, this is Constance Penny. She runs the Historical Society in Cape Alden."

  "Nice to meet you," Ginger said. "Maybe we should talk. I've been looking through his papers. He saved everything. If you're interested in looking through them, let me know."

  "Thanks," Constance said. "How long will you be here?"

  "For at least another week." Ginger looked at Charlie. "Birdie has been crying for days, but I still can't muster a tear."

  "Don't worry, sweetie," Constance said as she patted Ginger's arm. "No one liked him."

  "Constance!" Mari cried.

  "Oh, it's okay," Ginger said. "He was a tough man to like, even for his family."

  "What about his kids?" Mari asked.

  "They aren't coming. It's just as well, I guess. It will make it easier to handle his estate." She looked from Mari to Constance. "He made me the executor."

  "Oh, you poor thing," Constance said. "I'll bet his house is a mess, too. I might know someone who takes care of that sort of thing. They come in and take all the junk away. God knows what they do with it, but at least it's gone."

  "When I had my mother's funeral, I was numb," Mari said. "I didn't start crying until everyone left and I was alone. Seeing her things made it real, you know, that she would never touch them again, or look at my high school graduation picture again." She felt her eyes tearing. "It still gets to me."

  Ginger put her hand on Mari's shoulder. "I was bereft when my mother died."

  "I was, too." They looked at Constance. "I think it's something about mothers."

  Someone came up to Ginger to give their condolences. They greeted Constance, too. Mari glanced at the coffin and saw Ghost Charlie standing at the head. His malicious stare made Mari cringe, so she looked away, but she could sense he was still there.

  He's not real, she thought. He can't hurt you.

  She stayed near Constance's side as she talked to other mourners, but poor Ginger was stuck shaking hands with strangers and hearing maudlin stories about her brother. When the funeral director announced that the service would begin, Mari and Constance went to their seats, and Ginger sat alone in the front row.

  The pastor was unfamiliar to Mari, but he gave a nice, generic eulogy. When he was done, people were given a chance to get up and say something, but few did. Most of his contemporaries were dead, and Ginger didn't feel comfortable talking about Charlie.

  Walter announced that Virginia Turner, Charles Jackson's sister, had arranged a small buffet to be served at Morton's Inn in his honor. The room emptied quickly as people rushed to get their cars out of the lot. Only a small group would be going to the cemetery.

  "I wouldn't miss seeing him put in the ground," Constance said. "I want to make sure he's good and buried."

  Ginger was riding in a limousine and asked Mari if she and Constance would like to join her. Once they got to the cemetery, the whole service was a grim affair made worse by the menacing figure of Ghost Charlie, who glared at Mari from the other side of the plot. Mari defied him by patting Ginger's hand and putting an arm around her shoulders.

  When the service was over, the limo dropped Constance at the parking lot and took Ginger and Mari to Morton's.

  "It was the only place I could get," Ginger said. "Do you think it's tacky?"

  "No, no way. The locals love Morton's."

  "I really miss Birdie right now. She has a better head for these things."

  "You're doing fine. I haven't heard anyone complain."

  "I couldn't think what to do. I've been so preoccupied with everything that I nearly forgot I had to have this gathering at all."

  Mari put her arm around Ginger's shoulder. "No one is going to care, Ginger. They just want to show him respect."

  And eat until they burst.

  "I know." Ginger patted Mari's hand on her shoulder. "I just feel so alone here. I'm used to having my girls or Birdie around to help me."

  The buffet was being served in the big, back room. The doors separating it from the front were open and tables had been pushed up against the wall. People gathered in groups, sipping drinks, and talking about Cape Alden in the sixties and seventies. Constance arrived shortly after Mari and Ginger and she headed to the bar.

  "Do you want anything?" Constance asked them.

  "White wine," Ginger said.

  "Beer for me."

  Ginger looked tired. "It's so big."

  "What is?" Mari asked.

  "The house, and the real estate woman said it needs a lot of work. Charlie left money so I guess I should fix it before trying to sell it."

  "You'll get more for it," Mari said.

  "I suppose." She looked at Mari. "I just don't care. I wasn't expecting anything, and now, it just seems like such a big responsibility."

  "You can always dump it on his kids." Mari smiled, but Ginger looked even sadder.

  "I left them messages. They just don't care. The lawyer is convinced they won't even contest the will. I can't figure it out. How bad of a father was he? How can they not care that he's dead?"

  "Maybe he just didn't have time for them."
<
br />   "But they act as if he never existed," Ginger said.

  "Maybe they're just spoiled brats."

  Ginger smiled and shrugged. "Maybe. It's so sad. All he had was a strange looking cat."

  Constance returned followed by a young man who helped her carry the drinks. Mari had no idea what time it was, but Phil hadn't come to the funeral, so she had left a text for him telling him they would be at Morton's. She saw him come in and waved. He looked tired.

  "Hi," he said.

  "Hello, Phil," Constance said.

  "I didn't know you knew Phil." Mari smiled. "This is Ginger Turner. Ginger, this is Phil."

  "How do you do, Phil?"

  "I'm fine."

  Mari looked at Phil.

  "Where've you been?" she asked.

  "My car wouldn't start. I had to call Triple A. It was a dead battery."

  "So, you have to get a new one." He nodded. "They have cake on the table."

  "I'm not hungry for cake."

  "How can you not be hungry for cake?" she asked. "Everyone is hungry for cake."

  "I'm not a big cake man."

  Her eyes widened. "But it's so good."

  "I'm sure it's great. I just don't want any."

  She shook her head. "I just don't know you at all."

  "I'm gonna go see what else they have," he said.

  Constance and Ginger were smiling at her.

  "He's very nice, dear," Ginger said. "How long have you known each other?"

  Mari glanced at Constance. "Since May."

  "Well, you could do a lot worse," Constance said.

  "We're just friends," Mari said, and then Ginger and Constance smiled at each other. "I mean it."

  "Of course you do." Constance raised her eyebrows.

  "Whatever." Mari rolled her eyes. "I think I'll go get some cake."

  She joined Phil at the buffet where she pulled his arm so he would bend over and whispered in his ear.

  "Do you see him?"

  "Who?"

  "Charlie. He's standing at the end of the table. He's been following me since the funeral."

  Phil smiled. "How does he look?"

  "He looks pissed off. He's freaking me out."

  Phil put his arm around her. "Eat some cake."

  They mingled with other mourners for two hours, and then Ginger told Mari she was going home.

  "I know I'm supposed to stay, but at my age, I'm sure they'll forgive me if I go. I'm exhausted." She took Mari's hand and squeezed it. "Thank you for coming." She looked at Constance and Phil. "You, too. You helped me more than you can know."

  After Ginger said goodbye, Mari walked her to the limo and they waited for the driver, who had been eating at the buffet. The sky was clear and the stars were bright. After the driver arrived and opened the door for Ginger, she got inside.

  "Do you need a lift, dear?" Ginger asked.

  "No," Mari said. "I'm fine.

  "Would you mind coming to the house tomorrow?" Ginger asked. "I could use some help sorting things out."

  "Sure. What time?"

  "Whenever you want; I'll be there."

  She waved as Ginger rode away, and then saw Charlie standing in front of Morton's. Now he looked sad. Maybe he regretted not knowing her better, or hacking her mother to death with a steak knife.

  Mari walked toward the entrance to Morton's and he moved in front of her.

  "I won't tell her," she said. "I wouldn't hurt her. Now get out of my way."

  She closed her eyes, and then walked through him and into Morton's foyer. She saw Phil and Constance at the bar paying their tabs and she leaned against the wall as she waited for them. Phil saw her and smiled.

  "I can take you home," he said.

  Constance came up beside him.

  "It's up to you, sweetie," she said.

  "I'll go with Phil."

  She let Constance give her a hug and then they walked out to the street where Phil had parked his car.

  "I almost hate to move it," he said as they got into the car.

  "The summer is almost over," she said. "There'll be plenty of parking then."

  It was too dark to see Phil's cheek ripple as he clenched his teeth. He would start his new job the day after Labor Day. He wouldn't be here when summer was over.

  They waited until Constance had driven away, and she watched Charlie give Constance the finger.

  "That son of a bitch," Mari said.

  "Who?"

  "Charlie. He just flipped her the bird."

  "I guess he didn't like Constance."

  "I'm glad he's dead, but it wasn't hard enough. He didn't get what he deserved."

  Phil reached over and patted her hand.

  "Maybe he had a miserable life. Maybe he did get what he deserved."

  "You didn't see her, Phil. You didn't see what he did to her."

  "No, but I have seen the autopsy reports, so I can imagine." He paused. "No, he didn't get what he deserved."

  When they got to her apartment, she asked if he wanted to come upstairs.

  "For a minute," he said.

  When they got inside, Phil sat on the loveseat and Mari went into the bathroom to change. She also wanted a minute to cry and she didn't want to do it in front of him.

  She rinsed her eyes in cold water and then put on her sleep shirt. When she came out, Phil was dozing off, and she didn't have the heart to wake him. She turned off the light and slipped into bed, and sometime in the night, Phil left, leaving a note that simply said, "Call me."

  Ginger

  Ginger's call woke Mari at ten. Sunlight filled the room, making her reluctant to open her eyes, but she had promised Ginger she would go to Charlie's house and help her.

  As she walked to his house, Mari thought about what Charlie had done. Why had he moved back to Cape Alden? Why take a chance on anyone finding out he had murdered Charlotte? After witnessing the scene in the cottage she believed it was the only way he could be absolutely sure Ginger would never find out that he had killed her mother.

  Perhaps he'd planned to have the cottage destroyed, obliterating any trace of his crime. Constance Penny had fought him for years. The fact that he continued to fight for its destruction only confirmed Mari's theory in her mind.

  Now, as she walked up to his house, she noticed the peeling paint and loose boards that would have to be fixed before the place was sold. It had been neglected for years, much like the owner himself. She knocked on the door and Ginger greeted her with a weary smile. Beelzebub was there, too.

  "He is a strange looking cat," Mari said.

  "I think he's been in a few scuffles. I guess he decided it was time to come inside or the next one might be his last."

  Maybe he just identified with his damaged owner, Mari thought.

  The inside of the house was bigger than Mari expected. She tried to imagine it when Charlie's wife was alive, when the furniture was new, and the carpets bright and clean.

  Ginger was wearing Capri pants and a sleeveless blouse. She looked tired but more relaxed than she had at the funeral. They walked through the first floor to see what they would have to do and Ginger made a list, and they decided to start with the kitchen.

  "Did she like giving parties?" Mari said as they looked through the cabinets.

  "I'm sure she did, but she wouldn't invite just anybody. Only the cream of the crop would do, like people who could advance her husband's career."

  "What did she look like?"

  "She's on the wall over the mantel in the living room."

  Mari went to the living room and looked at the photographs on the mantel. Olivia's portrait was in the center and looked as if it had been painted in the 1950's. She looked like Bette Davis in "All About Eve." She even wore her hair the same way. She looked at the world as if she didn't give a damn about anyone.

  His kids' photos were framed and displayed at an angle on the mantel. Mari was surprised he'd kept them there, considering they had abandoned him. Perhaps Charlie didn't understand that they
no longer cared about their father.

  The girl was cute, standing next to a pink bike, and the boy was dressed in a military uniform. He was probably going to a military academy. In another, they were with their mother behind Charlie as he stood at a podium. It was symbolic of the relationship they'd had with their father, and Mari bet Charlie had looked at that photo and never seen the kids' expressions, or his wife's fake smile.

  "I'm going upstairs." Ginger was at the entrance to the living room. "Do you want to look through his bedroom?"

  "Sure."

  Mari followed Ginger upstairs. She couldn't have planned it better. She was going into Charlie's inner sanctum alone.

  "That's his room," Ginger said, pointing to the one at the top of the stairs.

  The furniture must have been bought in the seventies. It looked like her mother's bedroom set, the one she bought when she got married. Sleek lines, no handles on the drawers, very modern looking, but despite the warm color of the wood, the pieces left her cold. They had no personality, and she wondered why Olivia had chosen them. She seemed more sophisticated in her portrait. This furniture could be found in any furniture outlet, not the type of place Mari imagined Olivia would shop.

  She opened the closet door and glanced at the men's suits, shoes, and ties on a rack on the door. She wondered when Charlie had worn them last. Most were out-of-date suits that must have cost a fortune when he had them made.

  Mari pushed them aside, and then pulled the boxes on the overhead shelf down one at a time. One was filled with photographs of Olivia and the kids. Perhaps the darling children would want them. She put that one on the bed. The next few boxes were filled with papers pertaining to Charlie's administration, including two filled with pamphlets bearing the words, "Vote for Charlie Jackson." If there was a smoking gun, she hadn't found it in his closet.

  "When did you become so boring, Charlie?" she said aloud.

  She put her hands on her hips and looked around, then went to the female dresser and opened each drawer. They had been cleared of women's underwear, or socks, or whatever Olivia would have kept in them, and filled with more election memorabilia. Mari sighed as she walked to the male dresser and opened the top drawer. It was filled with socks, and the other drawers held men's clothing and nothing more.