A Bloodhound to Die for (10 page)

  
11
“Comforting the Survivors”

S
usan and I had sat together in the fifth row of All Souls, and were now strolling among large pine trees to the graveyard, two hundred yards behind the church, where Sara would be laid to rest. Bright sunlight and high humidity. We were both eyeing the black smudges that were moving in slowly from the east.

“What’s our chance of getting damp?” Susan asked idly.

“Thirty percent this afternoon, and fifty tonight.”

“You obviously disagree, since I see your umbrella in your bag.”

“Just prudent. They’re guessing along with the rest of us. I’ve been in toad stranglers when they predicted thirty.”

“You’re getting older and more cautious, Sidden. An
umbrella
and
flat heels? Where’s your adventurous spirit?”

“I’m not risking a sprained ankle from stepping into an armadillo hole out here. We have two more cemeteries to walk through this afternoon. You can live dangerously if you wish. I knew you were gonna mention my choice of footwear before the day was over,” I grumbled, “and slow down, I’m beginning to sweat!”

She laughed and we slowed our pace until we reached the large open-sided green tent. Millers’ Brothers Mortuary had arranged about fifty folding chairs inside and a good two hundred had attended the service. We stood with the overflow in the sunshine and listened to Reverend Williams’s brief summation of Sara’s life.

When the long line began forming to walk by the immediate family, seated directly in front of the casket, I halted Susan and turned her back toward the church.

“We’ll have to pass on offering our final condolences. That line will take an hour. Everyone says a few words, and some say more than a few. Mrs. Watson also has Sherlock sitting in front of her knees. He seems to be behaving, but I’d hate to make him break training if I walked up close to him. He knows my smell and he might be bored. We have twenty minutes to reach Gospel Holiness downtown or we’ll be late and I don’t want to be late.”

Susan hesitated. “I wouldn’t mind missing Leon’s
service. I’m still angry with him over the way he treated Sara.”

“The way he was
rumored
to have been treating Sara. Anyway, if you don’t go, you will possibly miss meeting the man I might marry sometime in the future.”

I had taken several steps into the trees before she could catch up with me and halt my progress.

“YOU MIGHT MARRY … WHO?”

“Lower your voice,” I said, laughing. “It’s too soon to be announcing my coming nuptials. For all I know, he may be already married. I just met him this morning.”

Susan dramatically placed a hand over her heart and groaned.

“One of these days!” she threatened. “First thought that entered my mind was that you meant the idiot who just escaped from prison, your long-term admirer from afar. Is he still loose?”

“I guess so. I haven’t been told differently.”

“You really aren’t going to help them look for him?”

“Nope. I didn’t appreciate their attitude.”

“I talked briefly to Hank last night. He mentioned that
your
attitude left a lot to be desired—but I’m with you, to hell with them!”

“Thanks,” I said dryly. “Now if you’d just change
your
attitude and tell me who told you about the love triangle…”

We had reached her car. She unlocked it, slipped in
quickly, turned her key, and started the engine. We stood with the doors open and the air conditioner on high to dispel the pent-up humid August heat. When the air was bearable to breathe, we climbed in just as a single large drop of rain splattered against the windshield.

Susan had ignored my last question while maneuvering her Lumina minivan out of the church parking lot. I decided not to push her for an answer. She’d tell me in time.

I once again admired the pristine condition of her car. She had it washed once a week, detailed and simonized monthly, and was a fanatic about maintenance. It looked just as good today as when she’d driven it out of the dealership.

“How many miles have you racked up on this thing?”

Her gaze dropped automatically to the odometer before she answered, but I bet she already knew within fifty miles.

“Eighteen thousand plus. She’s been mine for three months now.”

“You’ve had this one for over three years!”

“After thirty-six payments to the bank, Miriam and I are debt free.”

“Don’t you want a new model?”

“I hate car payments. Miriam and I are going to grow old together. Don’t ever mention trading in her presence again.”

I laughed. Wayne and Donnie kept all our vehicles running smoothly, but they had dents, scratches, the odd burns from my smoking days, and a great many more miles on their meters.

“You never told me about the guy you met this morning,” she reminded me. She changed the wipers from intermediate to high, as the water was now sluicing down the glass, softening the lovebugs that were stuck to the pane’s surface from the ride so far today and that would haunt us for the next three weeks. We were in the middle of our second lovebug attack of the year. She changed the air vents to blow on the windshield because the quick change from hot air to cool water was making the glass fog.

“His name is Leland Kirkland. He’s Leon’s elder brother, who’s home for the funeral. He lives in the extreme north portion of the state. If I can ascertain that he’s not married, engaged, living with someone, or seriously committed, I am going to have lunch with him this week.”

“Jesus, why bother? You’ve already gone the longdistance dating commute with Jonathan. Are you a glutton for punishment?”

“You haven’t seen him,” I said smugly.

“So he’s a hunk, so what? Why don’t you do your shopping locally?”

“Susan, you’re my best friend, and I want you to remain my best friend,” I explained wearily. “I have to be honest here. I don’t think the pot can call the kettle
black, if you get my drift. I’m not Julia Roberts in looks and temperament, and Brian Colby is not Hugh Grant. Let’s practice a little tolerance.”

After a deafening silence, she finally answered in a faint voice.

“Touché.”

We were lucky in finding an empty parking place almost beside the canopied sidewalk. Susan reached under her seat and groped around for her umbrella and muttered with disgust when her hand came up empty. I pushed on my door, opened it, and ran around to her side. We huddled close under my umbrella’s cover until we reached shelter.

The temperature had plummeted ten degrees in fifteen minutes. The wind had picked up and was blowing spray the width of the walkway. We hurried close to the inner edge and were both wet from our hips to our toes by the time we entered the church vestibule.

I stacked my wet umbrella against the wall with the others and brushed ineffectively at my damp navy voile skirt. Maybe it wouldn’t shrink too much above my knees. I caught a glimpse of my hair in the hall mirror and felt despair. The heavy moisture had turned my smooth hairdo into a riotous mass of kinky curls.

“I know what you’re thinking, Sidden, and it isn’t that bad,” Susan whispered.

“The hell it isn’t,” I hissed softly, momentarily forgetting my hallowed surroundings.

We were seated near the front, only four pews back
from the immediate family. We were on time, but most of the attendees were still on their way, driving slowly because of the heavy deluge of water.

Out of the blue I remembered a cute story I had read years ago of a millionaire’s funeral in a cold northern state, in January. He had asked to be buried on the coldest day of the month, when the worst weather conditions prevailed. Only three had attended the outdoor interment in the family burial vault: a nurse, an elderly housekeeper, and his limousine driver. They were very startled later when they were informed that they were to share equally in his twenty-million-dollar fortune.

I smiled as I remembered. That couldn’t happen in a small Southern town in Georgia. We take funerals of townsfolk as a sacred commitment. We go to see and be seen. No telling what you would miss if you skipped one because of a little rain and wind. We have attended during hurricane warnings, tornado watches, and all other disasters, mainly because the surviving family members would never forgive you if you stayed home.

Susan leaned close and mouthed into my ear, “Point him out.”

“He’s to the left of his mother.”

“He’s bald!” she said, sounding surprised.

“No, he isn’t,” I said with a smile. “He has a high forehead.”

She rolled her eyes upward at my nonsense. I glanced back. The church was slowly but surely filling. It would be another twenty minutes or so before the
services could be started. I wondered if I had time to dash to the bathroom. I discussed it with Susan and we both decided to go. She asked the lady sitting next to her to save our seats.

The rest rooms were off a corridor on the right, and when we entered, the four stalls were full and several women were at the long dressing table trying to repair the wind and rain damage to their makeup and hairdos.

I recognized one of Leon’s first cousins and flinched when I saw her turn her angry countenance on Susan.

“Well, I hope you’re satisfied, Susan. Spreading all those lies about Leon got him killed! Florence told me what you said about him. You should be ashamed of yourself!”

Susan stood frozen in shock. You could have heard a pin drop on the indoor-outdoor carpet. A few seconds later she regained her poise.

“And you are…” she replied unemotionally.

“Oh, you wouldn’t know her, Susan,” I drawled. “Edna doesn’t read, so she wouldn’t frequent a bookstore. Maybe we should all take up a collection and buy her a Ms. Manners book on etiquette, if they print one with lots of illustrations.”

“You stay out of this, Jo Beth! You’re not the hotshot you think you are. You saved the hostages and even the damn dog. Why couldn’t you have saved Leon?”

A woman standing next to her and having a strong family resemblance put a hand on Edna’s shoulder, which she angrily shrugged off.

“You owe Susan an apology, Edna,” I said quietly. “If I were you, I think I’d ask Florence who-all she told, and then check who they told. I wouldn’t be surprised to find out that you confided in a few more yourself. Come along, Susan, we don’t want to be late in paying our respects. Ladies.”

When Susan and I were back in our seats, I reached for her hand and squeezed it gently.

She managed a wan smile. “Thanks.”

“Forget it. Consider the source.”

During the service, I happened to glance her way and saw tears brimming her eyelids. I wanted to throttle Edna for being such a bitch. Half the town had contributed to the tragedy. I vowed silently that I would never again ask her who had told her and would stop trying to find out how the vicious rumor had started. A lot of people were suffering and any action on my part couldn’t bring back the three people who had died.

Reverend Willis announced that the graveside services had been canceled due to the inclement weather. We began lining up to speak to the family, and say our farewells to Leon.

I had always believed, even as a child, that viewing the body in the casket was a barbaric ritual. Prettying up a corpse, dressing it in pastels or backless business suits, and displaying it on padded satin seems a bit much. Some of our townspeople still practiced the old ways of bringing the body home and sitting up all
night with relatives and friends. To each his own, but I had made it quite plain in my burial instructions that my casket would be sealed.

I looked ahead and noted that Edna was not in the receiving line. Since Leon’s parents, two brothers, and a sister were there, no cousins were needed to represent the family. I was relieved. I wouldn’t put it past Edna to make a public scene as Susan was passing. I focused on the flowers that were at each end of Leon’s casket. I had no desire to view his remains. Instead, I remembered the sunny afternoon just five months ago that he came with Sara to pick up Sherlock from the kennel.

He had laughed and held Sherlock and was surprised by the loose wrinkled-skin soft bundle of fur. That’s the way I’d remember him.

We moved past the family, briefly touching hands and patting shoulders, and I nodded with sympathy when we reached Leland. Both Susan I and took a deep breath of the rain-laden air when we reached the sidewalk. Two funerals down and one to go. A truly depressing day.

  
12
“A Puzzling Incident”