Domestic Affairs (Tiara Investigations Mystery) (11 page)

CHAPTER 13

Continuation of statement by Leigh Reed.
 
I guess Hamilton & Sons Funeral Home didn’t have all that many offspring because Janice Marshall’s defection left them short staffed.
 
But the show, so to speak, had to go on.
 

Tara, Vic and I walked away, so Paul, our chauffer for the evening, and the funeral director could talk business. I wore an emerald green Roland Mouret sheath dress and a cardigan. Even though this was the funeral, I was not as formally dressed as I’d been for the viewing. My reasoning went something like, the dead person has already seen me.
   

I leaned in to whisper. “Of course, Janice Marshall dropped them and absconded to parts unknown.”

Victoria leaned in. “She couldn’t take a chance on seeing us.” The black silk pencil skirt and jacket, along with a white blouse, looked smashing on her.

“Good Lord, no,” Tara said. “She might be crazy, but she’s not stupid.” Tara’s new suit was deep sapphire.
 
She wore grey heels.
 

“The difference between crazy and stupid is like the difference between beer goggles and drunk goggles. Or having a thick head and having thick hair.” As if on cue, just as I said that, Al Ford walked up.

How did he have the gall or foolhardiness to be in the same room as Tara?
 
“Paige told me they found Mrs. Englund. You see now that I didn’t have a thing to do with it.”
 
His voice was louder than I cared for.

Hoping he’d take the hint re: volume, I practically whispered. “We don’t know what happened that night.”
 
The Tiara Investigations detectives had agreed earlier that if Al showed up for the funeral we would bide our time and discuss what he did to Tara’s car at a more appropriate occasion.
 
We owed Paul that much.

“So Paige and Beatrice are in touch?”
 
I caught Vic’s drift:
 
how did Paige know the police had found Bea?
 
The kidnapping hadn’t been in the news and we sure as hell hadn’t blabbed it. The question seemed to irritate Al and he walked off.

A gentleman I didn’t know seemed to be waiting to join the conversation.
 
“Are you Leigh Reed?”

“Yes.”

He handed me an envelope and I opened it. It was a subpoena for the Bennett divorce trial on Thursday, the state senator running for Congress from my district.
 
“Really? In a funeral home?”
 
I folded the paper in half and stuffed it in my tobacco-brown clutch which matched my shoes.
 

“Are you Tara Brown?”

Tara held out her hand. “Are you a butt-hole?”

“Are you Victoria Blair?”

We huddled and he began to slither away. Tara wadded her subpoena into her handbag. “We knew one of us would have to go.”
 

 
“Ms. Brown, we’re ready to go in, but we’re missing the last pallbearer.” It was the funeral director addressing Tara.

“He’s right here.” As fast as you can say embalming fluid, I grabbed the subpoena server’s elbow and wheeled him around to face the chapel doors.
 

Tara got on his other side. “Congratulations you have just become a pallbearer.”

Victoria fell in behind him, like a drill sergeant behind a private. “Don’t get any bright ideas.” Yep, that’s how we roll.
 

Over Tara’s shoulder, I saw Asher Charles making a bee-line for us.
 
She peeled off and waited for him.
 

“Hello, Tara.”
 
His teeth were on high beam.

“Just who we wanted to see.” She smiled and lifted an eyebrow.

“Oh?” As self-absorbed as he was, he knew he was looking a gift horse in the mouth.

“There’s a young woman we need you to find and question about Thomas Chestnut’s death. Her name is Janice Marshall.”

Victoria and I gave the server a little shove towards the other pallbearers and went back to Asher.
 
 

His eyes never left Tara. “Can we have dinner some night this week?”

“Just look for her. We can talk later.” She walked toward Paul coming out of the office and we followed.
 

“Are you going to have dinner with him?” Victoria whispered.

“Yeah, I’ll do that as soon as I start using a nine digit zip code.”
 

The guests filled up about half the chapel. Paul and Tara walked down the aisle to the first row. They were followed by Al and Paige Ford. Beatrice and I were next and Victoria brought up the rear. The Tiara Investigations Detectives sat together since Vic and I had come stag, if that term is still in use.

The pallbearers were seated on the other side of the center aisle. The newest addition slipped out and came over to us. “You can’t make me be a pallbearer! I’m leaving.”

“I’ve got a gun.” I stared straight ahead as I spoke.

“I’m staying.”

The organ music was not too loud and not too low, so we took the opportunity to talk. I patted my handbag.
 
“This might turn into something more complicated.
 
Mr. Bennett is a Democrat. This says Judge Braxton will be presiding. He’s a big Republican. Is Bennett still planning on lying?”
 

Victoria leaned in closer. “The last time I talked to his wife, he was still denying he had an affair. She knows he’s just saying this as a way to keep her.”
 

Tara, our very own attorney, pinched the bridge of her nose.
 
“Perjury is a way to go to jail.”

Granted, our business is dealing with the stupid, like the guy who took home one rose after being caught, thinking that would make it okay, but this was an especially sad case.
 

The service was tasteful and simple. Thomas Chestnut had not been a churchgoer. Tara and Paul are, however, and their Reverend Richardson conducted.
 
My hat is off to a minister who can pull this off well without knowing the deceased. There was to be no graveside service. He would be cremated at a later date.
 
Attendees were invited to dinner at Paul’s country club in Gainesville on Lake Lanier. Their eighteenth hole looks out over a spot known as cocktail cove. I could tell you more about that place but a funeral service is neither the time nor place. I’ll just say that if you know how to scuba dive you can pick up all the designer sunglasses you want there. I was young once, too. I’ll leave it at that.

“Are you going to shoot me in the back if I leave now?”
 
The conscripted pallbearer looked around to be sure no one could hear him. It’d be bad for business if people saw him being bossed around.
 

“You can go.” I’m nothing if not fair.
 
He scampered off and I met up with Vic and Tara in the lobby.

Bea was standing with them and looking around.

“Are you looking for someone?”

“A gentleman lent me a handkerchief last night. I wanted to thank him. I lost the one he gave me, but I can at least offer to replace it. I don’t see him. He wasn’t anyone I knew. I thought if I saw him I’d ask for his initials and get him a new handkerchief monogrammed.” She walked off to continue to look for her mystery man.
 

I pulled my heels up out of the carpet. We were waiting for Paul to settle up with the minister and the funeral home. “That’s class for you. Beatrice would never drive around in a car that looked like it was being held together with electrical tape.”

Tara stopped giving Al Ford the evil eye long enough to talk to us. “Why did Jack do that?”

“He wanted to be sure I noticed the doors were off.
 
He didn’t have time to put them back on.”

“But you drive without the doors sometimes, right?”

“Of course.”
 

“Here’s Paul,” Tara said. The funeral director was handing him the guest book. Bea had given up looking for the man who’d given her the handkerchief.

“Did Bea drive by herself?” Without waiting for an answer, I walked to Paul.

“Can I take a look at this?” I reached for the book.
 
“Go ahead. I’ll ride with Bea.”

***

 
Beatrice and I sat in her silver Volvo going over the names of the viewing guests. “Is there anyone here who you don’t know?” She was petite and her car seat was pulled so far forward, she was almost at the windshield.
 

“I recognize all these names.”

“So the anonymous gentleman didn’t sign in? Can’t say I’m surprised. What did he look like?” I kept an eye out for Paul, Tara and Victoria. We were to follow them to the country club.
  

“I don’t remember. I don’t even remember getting a good look at him. He was just behind me handing me the handkerchief.” She pulled out of the parking lot behind Paul’s Mercedes.
 

“Why did he offer you a handkerchief? Were you crying?” I asked.

“No. I had just told Paige that I saw some friends I needed to talk to, and his arm reached around my shoulder with it.” She squinted one eye as she tried to look back into her recent past.
 

I was happy she was remembering more. “Could it have been Al Ford, even though I wouldn’t think he’s accused of being a gentleman very often?”

“No, he was in front of me.”

“Did you notice any odor in the handkerchief?”

“Are you suggesting I was drugged? Because I prefer that to thinking I’m losing my mind.”

“Do you have a better explanation for the fainting and the amnesia?”

She shook her head. “Now we need to figure out who and why.”

“My guess is that the
who
is Thomas Chestnut’s killer. But why would someone kidnap you? Did Thomas ever tell you anything that someone might want kept secret?” I didn’t have enough info to figure that one out, but I did have a stroke of genius on another problem. “Do you mind if we take the long way? Turn onto Suwanee Dam Road.”

Just to have something else to talk about, I asked about the baby. She enjoyed talking about Anniyah and that seemed to sooth her.
 

“When this road ends, turn left onto Buford Dam Road.”

“Are you taking me back to where I was taken when I was kidnapped?”

“Yes, I want to show you something. Trust me, okay?”

She wasn’t happy about it and we didn’t speak until we got near the dam.
 
I pointed to a sign for a parking lot that read, Powerhouse Road. “Pull in here and park.”
 
We got out of the car and walked to a fence that separated us from the steep, rocky hillside leading down to the dam. We were standing on the far side of where we’d looked for her the night before.

“What in the.…?”
 
 
Bea leaned out for a better view.
 
“Are those what I think they are?”

“They’re the goats you saw. You weren’t imagining them.
 
They were brought here in the early 80’s to chew the grass on this rise.”
 
I tried to count them in the dark, but gave up. “In 2009 there were seven. A few were lost to coyotes and then they brought in a mule, an animal deadly to coyotes. These goats are all females; they bring in males for breeding.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t even give it a thought.”

Bea pulled up to the country club entrance and a valet was right there. “Do you mind if I go on home?”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m a little tired. It’s been an emotional few days.
 
 
I felt so guilty that I was about to break up with Thomas after I learned he’d been killed.” She stretched her arms out over the steering wheel and looked at her hands.
 
That brought something to mind. “I’m glad we never got around to shopping for rings.”

“You know, Paul feels uncomfortable with everyone offering their condolences since he hadn’t even seen his stepfather for a few years.”

“I get that. My husband was the love of my life.”
 
What I heard was my
real
husband. “We were married thirty-five years.”

“Can I at least get you a dessert to take home to Kelly?”

She hesitated, on the verge of saying no. “Get two.
 
That’ll be nice with a cup of tea.”

I let the young man standing at my door open it and I ran inside. After handing my scarf and gloves off to the coat check attendant, I followed the noise to the dining room. The older I get, the more often I opt for those two items over a coat.
 
Occasionally an Atlanta magazine or the newspaper will write about my sense of style.
 
Here’s my secret:
 
wear solid color everything or have a damn good reason not to.

The hostess led me to the private room Paul had reserved. I gave him a quick hug and told him what I needed. He relayed the instructions to the nearest server.
 

Tara hugged me and whispered, “Where’s Bea? Is everything alright?”