“Are we going somewhere today?”
“Happy Bear Funeral Home.”
“I doubt they have Herman Butler laid out this quick.”
She snickered. “Sure do, word is the widow wants him buried real quick-like.”
“Wasn’t there an autopsy performed at least, surely there has to be one before they bury him.”
“His injuries seem consistent with a fall ‘or so the new coroner said,’ so one wasn’t performed.”
“I suppose it would be hard to tell if he was whacked in the head before he fell unless they did an autopsy, which is standard policy with a suspicious death.”
“Highly unlikely that could ever be proved now,” El said. “Did you meet Jeremy yet? He’s the new medical examiner. He just moved from Gratiot County just a few months past.”
“Is that right now?” I thought about it for a moment and then, “Sounds like the new examiner has a lot to learn about procedures.”
“Maybe,” El grinned. “I hope he’s cuter than the last one, and younger.”
“Oh El, you’ll never change.”
El’s eyes twinkled. “Nope.” She stared at the kitty-cat clock on the wall, the one with the moving eyes, and changed the subject. “Let’s get over to the funeral home before we miss anything.”
“It’s not what you’d call a social engagement you know.”
“Who says it isn’t. I wonder who is gonna be there? Seeing as how Herman was from outta town, maybe nobody will show.”
“Nobody except a couple of gawking seniors that is.”
I threw on a sun-yellow dress that was about the only one I had, the rest had burned up in the fire. When I stepped back into the kitchen, Eleanor erupted into a fit of the giggles, her belly moving like the ocean was inside.
“And just what is your problem?” I asked in indignation. “It’s the only dress I have.”
“You look lost under all those ruffles.”
She was right, this dress was all ruffles, they even blew into my face and I had to blow them away. “I don’t see what else I can do unless you want to stop by Walmart.”
“You look like Big Bird!” Eleanor again went into a fit of the giggles until I gave her my evil eye. “We don’t have time to shop, we need to get over to the funeral home.”
“Well, I sure would love to catch Betty Lou there.”
“At least we can agree on something for a change,” she smirked.
I proceeded outside with Eleanor and spotted my neighbor across the way Leotyne who went to pointing and laughing, jumping up and down like a complete nut job that I had already pegged her to be. Seriously, what had I done to deserve this kind of neighbor? I promised tomorrow I’d file some kind of complaint. I mean isn’t putting a curse on someone against some kind of camping ground ordinance?
We barreled up the road and arrived at Happy Bear Funeral Home which was kind of easy to spot as it was covered with pink and yellow streamers and balloons.
There were times in your life where you’ll have the occasional funeral to attend, but at my age it’s common place.
“Happy Bear Funeral Home seems like a strange name for a funeral home to me,” Eleanor remarked.
“Somehow happy and funeral just don’t go together.”
“Unless you’re the mortician.”
“I bet he’s happy all the time.”
“And most likely laughing all the way to the bank.”
We parked, and as we made our way inside, a young woman dressed in a red dress with a white ruffled apron greeted us.
“Welcome to Happy Bear Funeral Home where death is never a reason to be sad.” Her plastic smile was worthy of a late night infomercial for zit cream. She obviously took her time learning the lines. The least I could do is play along.
I smiled. “Really? Is your mother laid out here?”
“W-Why no,” the girl said. “It’s a motto the owner came up with, isn’t it great?”
“Very clever,” I replied. “In a morbid kinda way.”
“Would you care for any refreshments?”
That got Eleanor’s attention. “What kind of snacks do you have?”
She presented a silver platter filled with what else, but finger sandwiches.
Eleanor gasped. “I sure hope they aren’t made from real fingers.”
“Of course not!” the girl laughed.
As we made our way toward the viewing room, I couldn’t help but overhear the voices that carried from inside an office.
“I told you, I want Herman cremated,” a woman’s voice said.
I recognized Betty Lou standing just inside the office.
“I explained this to you already, Mrs. Butler. There are very specific instructions in how the remains are to be handled. All Butler descendants must be buried in the Butler family cemetery on the hill.”
“I know, I know all about that quaint little resting place, but I don’t even plan to stay so why plant him there.”
“So you don’t plan to stay in the Tawas area?”
“No, we just came here because Herman inherited that huge house and all. I plan to put it on the auction block first chance I get.”
“Why such a rush?” the funeral director cleared his throat. “The will hasn’t been even read yet.”
“Herman didn’t have a will, and as his wife and sole heir, I stand to inherit everything.”
“Well then, that’s none of my concern. The funeral is taken care of by the Butler Foundation.”
“The what?”
“It’s a charitable foundation that funds activities in the area. Why just last year it helped pay for a new wing at the County Medical Center. It also earmarked funds for the funeral costs of the Butler’s funerals.”
“That is a load of baloney. So you’re saying this Butler Foundation paid for a new wing at a nursing home?”
“Yes, that’s right, it’s one of the main contributors.”
“Well I’ll be retaining a lawyer and looking into the matter. I’m selling that mansion, Mr. Henderson and moving the hell out of here.”
I tried to move, but my knee didn’t cooperate and I froze just as Betty Lou nearly ran into me. She was dressed in yet another strumpet dress, although this one was black.
“You!” she shouted. “Why are you here?”
“I came to show my respects.”
“Somebody needs to show you out the damn door.” Betty Lou locked eyes with both El and I. “Somebody get these women out of here.”
The funeral director rushed from his office, his rosy cheeks flushed to a point that they looked painted on. “Now, now, what is the problem, Mrs. Butler? These ladies are upstanding members of the community, and as such, are welcome to be here.”
Betty Lou huffed. “Fine let the old hags stay then. I’m leaving and will be back later.” She rushed outside like the place was on fire.
“I-I’m sorry. You’re Agnes Barton and Eleanor Mason, right?”
“Why yes we are.” Eleanor said. “And whom would you be?”
“I’m Martin Henderson, owner of Happy Bear Funeral Home.” Martin ran a hand over his sparse white hair before offering it to the ladies; his paunch barely noticeable under the cut of his fine tailored suit.
“Why aren’t you a handsome Devil,” El’s eyes searched the room. “Is your wife around?”
“Oh no, my wife died a few years back, massive heart attack.”
El batted her eyelashes. “Oh my, I’m so sorry, Mr. Henderson.”
“Don’t be silly.” He smiled. “Death is another journey is all.”
“That sounds awful,” I spat. “It’s like you’re happy about her death.”
“Yes I am, Agnes.” He held up his hand. “Don’t get me wrong here, but before my wife died she laid out a very detailed plan on how she wanted her funeral to be.”
“She wanted you to be happy?” I motioned around me at the balloons and streamers. I couldn’t help but sneer when I said it.
“She wanted it to
be like a party, and that is basically the concept behind Happy Bear Funeral Home.”
“This place is gonna go under real fast.”
“Oh, Aggie. Don’t give him a hard time. I love the idea.” Eleanor smiled. “I’m single and available Mr. Henderson.”
He laughed slyly. “Please, call me Martin, Miss Eleanor.”
“Seriously, can we view the body if you two are done?” I walked in the large room that had rather sinister looking paintings hanging on the wall. “This doesn’t look too happy to me.”
“Those are the paintings of the Butler family. I must admit they are quite serious looking, but men in those days were quite serious about business,” Mr. Henderson said.
“Where did they make all their money?”
“They were in the shipping and logging business the best I can recollect,” El replied.
Mr. Henderson cleared his throat. “Old money from the sounds of it.”
“Quite,” El said as she gave the funeral director a hard stare. “I have lived in the area for twenty years whereas my friend Agnes is newer to the area.”
“I see, well… I have only recently moved here from Grayling, Michigan. My father owned a funeral parlor there and I took it over when he died fifteen years ago. With my wife gone, I decided to sell the business and relocate to the East Tawas area.
“Why is that?” I asked.
“I have always loved the Tawas area and wanted to move here and live on Lake Huron.”
“You have lake front property?” El asked. “I live on the lake too, but it’s not much bigger than a cabin really.”
“Nothing wrong with that, dear. I kind of get lonely living all alone in a large house.” He flirted with Eleanor who was just sucking it up!
I changed the subject “So what did you think of Mr. Butler’s body?”
“I’m not sure what you mean?”
“Did he look like he might have just fallen out a window.”
“Well, I’m not sure about that one. I’m no coroner.”
“No, but I’m sure you have seen bodies that had similar injuries to them.”
“Well this is a rather odd question, Agnes, and I feel a little uneasy about answering it.”
El gave me a kick. “Leave that man alone, Aggie.”
Martin swallowed and led us away from the pack of spectators.
I pursed my lips. “I’m sorry, but we heard that an autopsy wasn’t done, is that right?”
“I’d love to help you it’s just that, well… I can’t.”
“And why is that?” I snapped.
“It would be against my policy. Maybe you should ask Mr. Butler’s widow.”
“I told you so, Aggie,” El shrugged.
“Oh you did not! Fine, it’s just that I’m really surprised that the sheriff didn’t insist on one.”
“Isn’t it standard procedure, Aggie?” Eleanor asked.
“I’m not really sure, but I’d love to find out.”
I thanked Martin, and El and I approached the body. The bald headed body that laid in the casket did look like the same man we had saw yesterday, except for the make-up mind you.
“Why do they layer the make-up so thick?” El frowned. “It’s just creepy.”
“I suppose to make them look alive.”
“Well, it’s not working.”
I stared across the room and saw Andrew Hart speaking to a woman with silver hair.
Why that rat! Andrew is back in town with a mystery woman in tow? I could tell by the way she clasped Andrew’s shirt cuff, that they were more than just acquaintances, much more. At this point, he didn’t notice either El or I, so intent was he on the woman next to him. Is she his new girlfriend? She’s tall and thin as a stalk of corn in fall. Her silver hair was styled and spiked to perfection like she was from New York City… I bet not a strand of hair would blow out of place in a hurricane. They can both go to Hades for all I care. I dragged a startled Eleanor off before she had time to react.
We made our way back to El’s Caddy. “Did you see that woman with Andrew?” El asked. “You didn’t tell me he was back in town.”
“I didn’t know!” I said as we climbed into the Caddy, spun onto the road, and raced to the sheriff’s department.
“Did you two break up?”
“We had an argument before he left and he promised he’d come back. I guess he just didn’t mention with whom.”
“Oh my. Do you want me to get rid of her?” She giggled. “We could give her some Cat Lady’s moonshine, it about killed you the one time you drank it.” She laughed. “We’ll need a boat and chains and weights though.” She sucked one finger into her mouth.
My eyes widened. “What in the world for?”
“To get rid of the body, silly.”
“If I didn’t know you were joking I’d turn you into the state police.”
El rolled her eyes. “I’m kinda a joking and kinda not. Is that a bad thing?”
“Yes! We solve crimes, we don’t perpetrate them.” I snapped.
Chapter Eight
When I made the turn into the parking lot of the sheriff’s department the lot was packed. We had to park quite a distance from the building, as even all the handicapped spaces were taken.
As El and I huffed and puffed our way up the path, we saw a man hop into his car that was parked in the space that should be reserved for the handicapped.
“Oh look, Aggie, he’s handicapped.”
“Yup, he can’t read,” I added.
Eleanor took a stance behind his car, legs spread and hands on hips, right behind the car in question.
“El, please, before you get run over.”
“Not until I give this jerk a piece of my mind.”
I rolled my eyes, I knew this was gonna be a scene I’d rather not witness.
The car inched back, but Eleanor with a menacing look in her eye glared at the car like she was sizing up an opponent.
The occupant of the car moved his arm out of the window and motioned Eleanor with a wave of his hand. She didn’t budge one inch. Then he gave her the finger and she reached into her bag and pulled her Pink Lady revolver out.
“Eleanor, put that thing away before somebody gets hurt.”
“Oh somebody will. Him.”
The car door flew open and the young man started screaming. “She’s pointing a gun at me! Somebody help!”
El put her gun away. “Big baby, it’s not even loaded.”
“You don’t look handicapped to me,” I added.
“You old bats better get out of my way or else I’m telling Uncle Clem.”
I stared at this young skinny fella. The tee he wore was about as tight as the skinny jeans he wore. I scratched my head for a moment. “Clem Peterson is your uncle?”
“Like in Sheriff Peterson?” Eleanor laughed.
“Y-Yes wh-why?”
“Don’t you know handicapped spots are for handicapped people?” Eleanor shouted. “We had to park a half mile down the street. Don’t you know us older folks have medical issues and bad constitutions.” El began to fan herself and slumped to the ground.
“Oh great, see what you did now, the poor dear has fallen out. If she dies it’ll be your fault and I’ll testify at your murder trial,” I insisted.
“I didn’t kill her!” he cried. “I park here all the time and nobody ever says squat.”
I knelt to check El’s pulse and played like I was giving her CPR until the man ran inside the sheriff’s department. “Stop it now, El. He’s running for reinforcements.”
I helped her up and she was in a fit of the giggles, but tried to look serious when the sheriff ran outside with a defibrillator.
“What in the hell is going on?” Peterson yelled.
“Your nephew there was parked in the handicapped spot and El and him got into a little discussion about it is all.” I took in a hard breath. “We had to park clear to the street.” I waved my handicapped parking permit in his face.
“She was j
ust on the ground while that other one told me I was gonna be charged with murder.”
Peterson turned to his nephew. “I told you a thousand times not to park in the handicapped spot, Clint.”
“Are you gonna give him a ticket or let him off the hook ‘cause he’s related to you?” Eleanor taunted Peterson.
“Like I have time for this crap.” Peterson stomped his way inside, returned a few minutes later with a ticket in hand, and gave it to Clint.
“You have to be kidding, Uncle. Tell me you’re not giving your own nephew a ticket.”
“It’s a sizeable fine so you best find a job here in town to pay me back while you’re here.”
“But it’s summer vacation,” he whined.
“Sorry, kid.” Peterson said and walked back inside.
El always one to get in the last dig stuck her tongue out at Clint. “I guess we won’t be seeing you at the beach.”
I pushed Eleanor inside where the sheriff awaited us. “In my office,” he said. “Somehow I figured you two would show up.”
We followed the sheriff and felt every eye in the room on us. When we stepped into the sheriff’s office, he closed the door behind us.
He sat and rocked back on his leather chair waiting for us to speak, but I was eyeing up his office. He had a computer on his desk with a few picture frames scattered about. Along one wall were three file cabinets, it was quite a tiny room really. A large window displayed the view of Lake Huron.
“Nice office,” I finally said.
“Thanks,” he choked out. “Is there a purpose for your visit today or should I wait to find out on the six o’clock news?”
“I was just at Happy Bear Funeral Home. I overheard there wasn’t an autopsy performed on Herman Butler.”
“Happened to overhear via a glass held to a door perhaps,” he mocked.
“Hecks no,” El confessed. “I’d rather not divulge our source, but it’s common knowledge around town.”
“You mean gossip, but just to get the two of you out of my office, I’ll confirm that the coroner didn’t feel an autopsy was warranted in this case.”
“Doesn’t one have to be performed? I mean surely you can’t rule out foul play.”
“Of course not, Agnes. We are still investigating and keeping a watchful eye on the widow, but really there is just not enough evidence to suggest a crime was committed.”
Madison Johns - Agnes Barton 02 - Grannies, Guns and Ghosts Page 5
