"For what profession?" I asked.
“We told you that Irwin kept up his licenses. He taught me everything he knows. After the kids were grown we took the job as rural undertakers. We went all over to the different farms when people went belly up and we transported the bodies to the morgue."
"They let you have a mini-morgue in your barn?" I asked, astonished.
"No. That, young lady, was the bargain of a century. The school district surplus manager called us when we were looking for another cooler for the shop and told us he had this. It was just the thing to have on hand. We can store an elk in there after the hunt, or pheasants. Or we can store bodies. And since I sent Irwin on an errand, you're going to need to help me with one of those bodies."
Her words didn't immediately sink in.
"Over there." She jerked her head in the direction of the metal table. Just beyond the table on the ground was a long black bag. I recognized it as similar to the one I fell on at the mortuary. Seeing the bag helped the reality of the word "body" sink in. The room started to move, and my stomach started churning. I focused on breathing. In, out, in, out.
I’m not usually the type to become sick at the sight of something gruesome, but this wasn’t like when I cut my finger open. This was gruesome in an entirely different way. Knowing how this person had become a body in a bag was enough to unsettle me to the core. I continued my makeshift plan to try and talk to LaDonna to stall until something happened. I didn't know what, but something.
"LaDonna, who is this?"
"Who?"
"The person in the black bag!"
"Don't get snippy with me, young lady." She said this like a regular grandma would say it. "It's that damned JoAnne, if you have to know."
She responded every time I asked a question, so I kept going. "JoAnne. You mean the florist?"
"Yes, yes,” she said impatiently, “from JoAnne's Flower Basket."
"Why did you kill her?" I asked, as if it were as common as asking where she bought her shoes.
"She was just plain mean, that's why. And her arrangements were terrible."
I couldn't disagree with either of those statements.
"But doesn't she have a family or loved ones who are worried about her?"
"Family!" she shouted. "My family is ruined, my poor boy is gone! No one cared about my family. I don't give a hairy rat's patoot about Jo...Annnnes family. Besides, if she didn't want to get herself killed, she shouldn't have been so rude to me."
This woman was crazy, there was no telling what might set her into a rage, but the talking kept her from aiming at me as attentively so I kept going.
"LaDonna?" I kneeled down next to the bag, "Did you kill Derrick Gibbons?"
Her face grew pale and all expression washed out of her face. She stared into space for a moment, and then, as I watched, her face grew redder and redder and began to screw up, growing tighter with every moment.
“I had to protect my son. I’ve had to protect him his whole life. He thought he was in love with that…common thief. Bobby wanted to sign away his money, his land. That idiot Derrick fancied himself some kind of developer. Thought he was going to get rich off of some kind of plant they use to make gasoline. I’ve never heard anything so stupid in my life.”
I wanted to keep her talking to stall. I needed to think of something while she talked. “You mean switch grass?”
“Whatever it’s called, it’s all a bunch of hooey if you asked me. There’s plenty of oil in the ground. Besides, farming doesn’t bring the kind of money that the land underneath the farm does. That politician offered double what it was appraised for.”
“You mean Landon Powell?”
“Yeah. See this land here is valuable. I’ve had all kinds a people out here nosin’ and askin’ around.”
She still had the gun trained on me. You’d think the old gal’s arm would be getting tired by now. I desperately needed something or someone to intervene.
“Why is this property so valuable?” I asked.
“You know what? You really are a stupid young thing. Just because you know how to work on a computer doesn’t give you any smarts.” She looked at me in a way I imagined she had probably looked at her husband a million times; disgusted and annoyed. “You’ve seen all the development out here. Mr. Politician told me he was building a ski resort up here; a mega-resort is what he called it. He said they were gonna have the Olympics here again, and that he was going to build the finest European ski village in the country. He showed us pictures and everything. He said he had some eye-talian designer coming out to draw up the plans after we sold it. I told Bobby this is just what we had been praying for, but no.
He wanted to be a farmer
,” she mimicked in a childish voice.
“Why didn’t you just sell the land? Why did Bobby have to be involved?”
LaDonna let out a sigh that suggested the years of fatigue she had been carrying on her shoulders. “When Irwin and me got married, Daddy didn’t come to the wedding. He hated Irwin. Said he would never amount to anything. Daddy died after we had moved away and had our kids. When we came back for the funeral we found out that Daddy left his house to me in his will, but he left all the land to Bobby. He was named after Daddy, and I guess Daddy thought that meant he should have all of his land.” Her voice betrayed her tough exterior. The disappointment was apparent.
“So you killed Derrick because he wanted to be a farmer with your son?”
Her eyes lit up and the sadness and fatigue left her. She straightened up and looked as if she peered through me rather than looking at me.
“I had to
protec
t him! A mother must protect her offspring. It’s the way of nature. That detective came and told me about Derrick’s girlfriend. He told me that Derrick wasn’t gay, and that he was running around town with some tramp. I tried to convince Bobby to break it off with him, before he found out the truth. Bobby thought he was in love. Can you believe that? Bobby was always in love with the first man he’d run into that showed any kind of interest. The guy he was with before Derrick used to beat on him,” her voice cracked, “he threatened to leave Bobby all of the time, but then Bobby found out he had been infected with HIV. The son of a bitch gave it to my son. He knew he had it and never told Bobby. Too bad that man died suddenly.” LaDonna’s eyes grew dark and distant. A wicked smile slowly spread through the wrinkles around her mouth. “Quincy, my dear, did you know that they can’t trace a murder by insulin, not if the bastard was a diabetic? He had a lot of money hidden away too. Thought Bobby didn’t know about it.”
Sweet little old LaDonna had revealed herself as a cold-blooded killer. It wasn’t likely she was going to let me go after telling me all of her dirty secrets. I had to think of a different approach. I needed some way to distract her. If I could just knock the gun away, I had a size advantage, and maybe I could knock her over, long enough to get away.
“You were just protecting your family, LaDonna. Anyone would do the same. Derrick was out for himself. I hated him too. He stole my business away just because he wanted to compete with a buddy. A guy from the mortuary—he told me how he and Derrick would compete with each other. When Derrick started dating Camille LeFay, the politician’s girlfriend, Doug started pursuing the politician’s wife. It was all a game for them. When Doug got his own mortuary to run, Derrick had to have his own shop—it didn’t matter that he didn’t know how to run it properly, he just wanted to be one up on his buddy. LaDonna, I’m on your side. I found out that Derrick was dating the last woman because she had information on the politician’s land dealings. He thought that he would get investors for the switch grass farm and develop it and then sell it to one of the huge energy companies for a profit. He was using your son, just like you said.”
She swayed almost imperceptibly. I thought maybe her gun arm was dropping slowly. “No one is on my side, Quincy.” The arm holding the gun popped back up, steady and sure, training the barrel right at me.
“Was Derrick a diabetic?” Another wicked smile curled the corners of her mouth. I didn’t need a verbal answer. “The casket spray looked an awful lot like my work, LaDonna.”
“I know, dearie. What a wonderful coincidence it was that your aunt and I trained at the same place.”
“And the banner with the lettering?”
“Everyone steals bows and banners from a warm grave, Quincy. Don’t be naïve.”
“Funny you chose that particular person’s final resting place to defile. I checked my records. That person truly was someone’s ‘
Beloved Son.’
I made three banners for that family; I did guess correctly about which one you chose to use, didn’t I?”
“You did,” she said, cold as ice. "I had to get rid of him, Quincy. He caused my little boy to hurt himself. My little baby! That good for nothing husband of mine wouldn't do it. He never understood Bobby. He never accepted the fact that Bobby was gay. I knew it from the day he was born. He was different than my other kids. I knew that, but I loved him. How could anyone think that my precious little baby was anything less than perfect? How could his own father turn away from him?" Tears tracked down her face and sputtered on her lips as she yelled. "Enough!" She looked at me with rage behind her eyes and she pointed the gun at my face.
"Quincy, it's too bad that we met when we did. I would have liked getting to know you. You've been so helpful. You're going to help me now. You need to drag that bag over to the middle of the floor underneath that big hook. Then we'll hoist it up with the hook and send it over to the drawers in the fridge. I would have had Irwin do it, but he was driving me nuts. Besides, you're a strong young woman, it's better to have you do it."
The panic set in.
The bag would probably be heavy, I could buy some time dragging it slowly. If she complained, I would tell her I needed help and when she came over I would try to knock the gun out of her hand.
I tried to drag the bag but it was heavier than I could have ever imagined.
"Put your back into it, girl."
"It won't budge, LaDonna. Are you sure just one person can do this?"
"Irwin manages. He is built like a bull though. You sure you can't do it?"
I conjured up some tears. "Please, LaDonna, I'm trying to h-h...help you," I sobbed, "but it's too heavy!"
Her face softened a little, but it was probably due to the inconvenience of it all rather than any feelings of empathy.
"Oh for hell sakes, I have to do everything around here. Move over."
When she came within two feet of me, I crouched and lunged at her while letting out a primal scream, like I'd seen when football players pushed the tackling dummies on TV. I lowered my shoulder and plunged into her sternum. We tumbled to the ground.
She lay still beneath me. I lifted my head slowly. Her eyes were closed and her arms were splayed out wide, above her head. She must have hit her head on the ground and been knocked out. The gun rested a few inches from her hand. I got up and kicked the gun away then crouched over her and made sure she was breathing and had a pulse. She did, thankfully.
I picked up the gun and thought I would put it under my waistband like I had seen in the movies. I tucked it in but I was afraid it would go off. I tried to think of a place where I could stash it that no one would suspect.
The Body Bag.
I reluctantly unzipped the bag, knowing that mean old JoAnne would be staring back at me. I held my breath and tugged on the zipper. The opening revealed a bulging burlap bag of sand. The body bag was full of sand bags. I felt a surge of relief, glad—in a sad way for LaDonna’s confusion and hope for JoAnne, even though she was a nasty woman. I stashed the gun and zipped up the bag.
While LaDonna laid there on the floor like a lump with a gray curl and set hairdo, I had time to slow down my thoughts and think about my situation. I became aware of a loud droning noise that I hadn't noticed while I was fearing for my life. I heard a big clunk in the direction of the body drawers, and then the constant noise stopped. The sound was familiar, it was the motor of the cooling system of the refrigerated drawers cycling off.
I paused for a moment to look at my surroundings and decide what to do about LaDonna. I didn't have my cell phone, maybe I had left it in the car; I wasn't sure. Besides, I didn't have my keys to the van. LaDonna had tossed them into the gravel after she locked the van doors. I didn't dare leave her; she could die there because of me. Yes, she was a murderous criminal, but I didn't want her death on my hands or my conscience.
I searched the walls of the building for a telephone. If I could call 911, I could tell them where we were. If LaDonna woke up and gave me any trouble, I could hold her gun on her until help arrived. But if she woke up, I would know she was okay, and then I could just run. She couldn't outrun me, could she?
I didn't see a phone anywhere. I thought maybe I would just take off and find help somewhere, but LaDonna was looking kind of gray. I couldn't just leave her.
I heard a faint sound coming from inside the big metal box. I paused and listened carefully, and I heard it again. It sounded like a muffled voice. I followed the direction of the sound to one of the drawers and fumbled with the handle until I figured out how it worked. The chest-high drawer finally opened and I looked down into the red, scowling face of JoAnne from JoAnne's Flower Basket.
Her mouth had been gagged and her hands and feet were tied with old shop rags. She had been stuffed into the drawer, and it looked like she didn't have any room to move. I pulled the gag down, out of her mouth.
"JoAnne, are you okay?"
"AAAHH, AAAHH!" JoAnne screamed, over and over again. She screamed, then took a breath and then screamed again.
"JoAnne! It's me, Quincy. I'm here to help you."
"AAAHH, MURDERER! AAAHH!" She stopped making noise long enough to spit in my face. I had more than enough to deal with without this treatment, so I yanked the gag back into her mouth.