Grave Intent (3 page)

Janet gave him a reassuring pat on the arm.
“I wouldn’t worry about Sally,” she offered. “Sometimes it takes
her a little while to warm up to people, that’s all.” Janet knew
Sally Mouton could be very territorial when the spirit moved her,
but in many ways the highly organized, sixty-eight-year-old
spinster had earned the right. She’d been serving as Savoy Funeral
Home’s secretary and hostess for more than twenty-five years.

“I hope you’re right,” Chad said. “Sometimes
I think she—”

The chirp of a telephone in the distance
silenced Chad and sent his eyebrows into a high arch. “I’d better
get that before the answering service picks up,” he said nervously,
and handed the spray back to Janet. “I hate to run out on you
but—”

“No problem. Go.”

He gave her a scant nod, then hurried
away.

Janet went into the viewing room, anxious to
get Ellie back in her sights and to rid herself of the prickly
arrangement once and for all.

She found her daughter sitting quietly on the
floor at the front of the room near the foot of a polished oak
bier. Atop the bier sat a pine casket, the top half of which lay
open, revealing an elderly man in a dark blue suit. Ellie’s ease
around corpses never ceased to amaze Janet, but the child’s abrupt
stillness did.

“You okay, honey?” Janet asked. She placed
the spray over the casket’s closed bottom lid and straightened some
of the roses that had wiggled free of symmetry.

“Uh-huh,” Ellie said.

Janet glanced down and saw Ellie staring into
the basket of carnations in her lap. “You sure?”

“Yeah.” Ellie scratched the end of her nose.
“Mama?”

“Yes?”

“Do you like horses?”

Slightly taken aback by the question, Janet
paused before answering, “I guess so.”

“Even mean ones?”

“Now what would make you ask something like
that?”

Ellie shrugged.

Janet waited a bit longer, and when Ellie
didn’t question her further, she went back to adjusting the
spray.

Sighing loudly, Ellie placed the basket on
the floor, stood and walked to the head of the casket. She peered
inside. “Mama?”

“Hm?”

“Is there a kid heaven then a grown up
heaven? Or is there just one where everybody goes together?”

A shiver slipped down the back of Janet’s
neck. Her encounter with Chad had offered a small respite from the
notion of impending trouble, but Ellie’s newest question caused it
to snap back into place with a vengeance.

“I’m not positive,” Janet said. She
swallowed, and her throat felt coated with briars. “From what I’ve
heard, though, I think everybody goes to one place.”

“Even teenagers? Do they go to the same place
as everybody else, too?”

“I’m sure they do.”

“And do people have to pay to get into
heaven?” Ellie asked, her questions becoming more urgent. “You
know, like when we go to the movies and have to buy a ticket to get
in?”

Janet frowned. She was used to Ellie asking
unusual questions from time to time, but these were downright
weird.

“Do they?” Ellie pressed.

“I don’t think so.” Janet quickly plucked a
brown-tipped piece of foliage from the spray, then held out a hand
to Ellie. It was definitely time to get out of this place. “All
done here, Miss Wonderful. Time to go home. We still have a lot to
do before the recital.”

Ellie patted the corner of the casket as
though signaling goodbye to Mr. Rasmussen, then went over to Janet
and took her hand.

“Mama?”

“What, baby?” Janet asked, leading Ellie
across the room.

“When somebody dies and goes to heaven, can
they come back and visit?”

Gooseflesh made another run along Janet’s
arms. “I don’t know. Why?”

“’Cause I need to know.”

“Need to?”

Ellie pulled Janet to a stop and faced her.
“Yeah,” she said, her face solemn, her blue eyes sad. “’Cause how
else am I gonna know if I can come back to you and Daddy after I
die?”

The words sent a crushing blow to Janet’s
chest. She scooped Ellie into her arms and hugged her tight.
“Sweetie, you don’t have to worry about stuff like that for a long,
long, long time.”

Ellie gave her a tentative smile. “Long,
long, long?”

“Even longer,” Janet said. Then, with her
daughter still clutched to her breast, she hurried out of the
building, praying that the obscure dread that had followed her
around all day hadn’t been sent to prove her wrong.

CHAPTER TWO

Janet dug through the refrigerator for grated
cheese, mentally sorting through the tasks she had yet to finish
and attempting to ignore the persistent nagging in her gut.
Although the sense of foreboding had abated after she’d left the
funeral home, it refused to go away

“Hey, any doodlebugs live here?”

The sound of Michael’s voice calling from the
living room caused Janet to sigh heavily with relief. At least he
was home in one piece, which meant one less worry for her to hold
onto.

“Daddy!” Ellie jumped up from her seat at the
table and with a shriek of laughter ran to meet her father as he
crossed the archway into the kitchen. She jumped into his arms.
“Look how I’m pretty,” she declared, showing off the pink and white
tutu she wore, complete with purple fanny pack

“Prettiest little girl in the world for
sure.” Michael lifted Ellie high into the air, then pulled her
close. She snuggled against him. “Are you ready for your big
night?” he asked.

“Yep, but Mama says I gotta eat supper
first.” Ellie pointed to the plate of spaghetti on the table.

“Sounds like a plan to me,” Michael said.

“Good,” Janet said, backing out of the
fridge. She let out a puff of exasperation and held out a container
of cheese “Then maybe you can get her to eat something. I haven’t
been able to get her to sit still for five seconds.”

Michael lowered Ellie onto a kitchen chair,
then went over to Janet and took the small, green canister from
her. “You want her to eat Parmesan?” he asked with a mischievous
glint in his eye.

“Funny.”

Michael leaned over and kissed her lightly on
the lips, “Tough day or just being grouchy?”

“Both,” Janet admitted, and closed the
refrigerator door. “Sorry. I’m a little fried. I’ve still got to
get to the mall to buy leotards. Ellie ripped her last pair when
she was getting dressed.” She peered around Michael’s shoulder.
“Ellie, eat a little something, honey, will you? We’re really
late.”

“But I don’t want to eat worms,” Ellie
said.

Janet rolled her eyes and sidestepped
Michael. “Just try a little.”

Ellie shook her head. “I can’t. Look, they’re
wiggling on the plate!”

“Your spaghetti is
not
wiggling,”
Janet insisted.

“It’s only five,” Michael whispered. “A
little early for supper. Maybe she’s just not hungry.”

Ellie, obviously overhearing, clapped
enthusiastically. “Yeah, I’m not hungry. Can we have pizza?”

Janet swatted Michael’s arm. “Thanks a
lot.”

He grinned sheepishly and loosened his tie.
“So where’d the two of you go off to earlier? Chad said you came by
the funeral home with a delivery but didn’t stick around long.”

“I had too much to do. Lock up the shop, cook
supper, dress Ellie for the recital, now the mall. And I still have
to pack for our trip to the cabin.” Janet turned away and gathered
up Ellie’s plate and cup, feeling a twinge of guilt. It wasn’t as
if she’d lied to Michael. She did have a lot to do. The
rest
of the truth, though, had nothing to do with chores. She just
didn’t know how to explain the real reason she’d rushed out of the
funeral home without sounding like a loon.

Janet gave Michael a brief smile on her way
to the sink. “Besides, I knew I’d see that good-looking face of
yours at home.”

Michael waggled his eyebrows. “So you think
I’m good-looking, huh?”

“I think you’re pretty, Daddy,” Ellie
said.

“Thanks, doodlebug.”

“Now what about
your
supper?” Janet
asked him as she scraped leftovers into the garbage disposal.
“Think I can get some food into you for a change?”

“Maybe later. I’ve got to shower, put on a
fresh suit, then get back to the funeral home and take care of a
couple of things.”

“You
are
coming, right?” Janet
asked.

“Uh . . . where?”

“The
re-ci-tal
.”

Michael gave her a lopsided grin.

Janet returned it despite her pensive mood.
“Seven o’clock, okay?”

“Yeah, Daddy, you gotta come see me be a
butterfly.” Ellie scooted off her chair and ran up to him.
“Watch.”

Janet groaned as Ellie wound up for an
impromptu performance. “Ellie, we’re so late. You need to put your
shoes on and get your costume bag out of your room.”

“Okay,” Ellie said, then leaped across the
floor and did a swaggering twirl before Janet could protest
further. She flitted back and forth in front of her parents. “What
about that?”

Michael applauded loudly. “Beautiful job!
You’re the best butterfly ever.”

Ellie beamed, then skipped away in search of
her shoes.

“A ballerina with a fanny pack,” Michael said
as soon as Ellie was out of earshot. “Think they’ll convince her to
take it off?”

“Not unless someone brings a tub of water,”
Janet said. “You know the only time it comes off is for her
bath.”

Michael chuckled. “True.” He went over to
Janet and gathered her in his arms. His eyes locked onto hers. “You
okay?”

Janet hesitated for a beat. “Yeah. You?”

“Yep.”

“You look tired.”

“You worry too much.”

“No really.” Janet brushed a finger across
his left cheek. “You look kind of pale.”

“A funeral director’s supposed to look
pale.”

“Be serious.”

“I am.”

Janet grinned and leaned her forehead against
his chest. “You know if you’d rather wait to go to the cabin
after—”

“No way,” Michael said, and cupped her chin
in his hand. He gently lifted her head so she faced him. “We’re
going, beautiful,” he said softly. “And I’m bringing
surprises.”

Within minutes of collecting shoes, costume
bags, and ballerina, Janet had Ellie buckled in the back seat of
the Caravan with a coloring book and crayons and was backing out of
the garage. She glanced across the street toward the funeral home
and noticed three cars parked in the lot. She hoped Chad had been
right about the Rasmussen viewing being small. If a large crowd did
show up, or if they got another death call before Michael had the
chance to leave for the recital, he would feel obligated to
stay.

Not that she’d blame him. Janet knew it was
part of the job. A tough, sometimes thankless job. She’d discovered
that firsthand eight years ago, shortly after they were married.
Not long after their honeymoon, Janet offered to work at the
funeral home. She wanted to understand more about the industry that
consumed her new husband and thought, having earned a management
degree from LSU, that she might be able to contribute something to
the family business. So she’d filled in as an additional hostess
when the need arose, filed death certificates, and had even driven
the hearse a few times. It didn’t take Janet long to figure out,
however, that it took a special temperament and talent to work in
funeral service, and she didn’t have either. Though she felt
purpose when helping grieving families, she couldn’t handle being
surrounded by death and sadness every day. Such a concentration of
both in one place seemed to suck the life out of her. That’s when
she decided to open a flower shop near the funeral home. From
there, she could still help the bereaved but also brides and new
moms. Janet needed that balance of light with dark.

Michael, on the other hand, appeared to
maintain a healthy internal balance despite what he dealt with each
day. His good-hearted, optimistic nature rarely allowed him to
remain depressed or sullen for too long, even in the direst of
circumstances. The last three years had certainly proven that. He’d
spent two of those three years in hell and this last year pulling
his way past the second rung of purgatory. He was due a break and
some time off.

Unfortunately, one of Michael’s favorite
getaways was his family’s cabin, which was located in Carlton,
Louisiana, four hours north of home. He tried to schedule time off
every July, specifically the last weekend of the month, when
Carlton held its annual summer fair. Ellie loved going for the
carnival rides and looked forward to the trip each year. Janet
enjoyed the fair as well, but she secretly hated the cabin. The
place was old, surrounded by woods, and held ancient memories that
always made her feel like an outsider.

“Mama, I can’t find yellow.”

Pulled from her reverie, Janet glimpsed into
the rearview mirror to make sure Ellie hadn’t unbuckled her seat
belt to search for the missing crayon. She hadn’t.

“Use blue,” Janet said.

“I can’t make the kitty’s face blue!”

“Then use brown.” Janet checked the mirror
again. It puzzled her how quickly Ellie had snapped out of her
melancholy once they’d left the funeral home. They were no sooner
out the side door than she was back to her chatty, bouncy self. So
far Ellie hadn’t brought up another question about death, and Janet
didn’t press the issue. She had enough to handle with her unnamed
worry still chugging along at a decent rate.

“What color was Mary’s little lamb?” Ellie
asked as Janet took a right on Union Street.

“What, hon—oh, damn!”

“Mama, you said the D word!”

Janet winced. “Sorry.”

“What’s wrong?”

“We’re almost out of gas.” Janet looked at
her wristwatch to verify the time illuminated on the dashboard
clock. She only had an hour to find leotards and get Ellie to the
auditorium. She glanced down again at the fuel gauge, which sat
flat against E.