by Kira Reese
“I’m sure of it,” Sharon was saying. “I am sure that is the brooch my mother owned. It was supposed to be buried with her. Where did you get it, Beverly?”
I looked closely at the jewelry piece. It certainly resembled the description Sharon gave me the night before of her mother’s favorite piece of jewelry.
“My usual vendor was here a couple of weeks ago. He had this one with several others and I bought them all.” Beverly peered closer. “I have to agree with you, Sharon. This brooch definitely looks like the one your mother showed me once. Do you have any papers of certification or anything else regarding its origin?”
Sharon nodded. “I have the card my father gave my mother describing briefly the piece when he gave it to her years ago. I also have the authenticity papers stating its history. I recall it came from Brussels. At the time, my father had a very good friend who worked in finance in Brussels and he asked him to get it for him. They had been friends since boyhood.”
That explained how the piece reached Sharon’s parents, but I wondered how this brooch made its way from the mortuary and finally to this shop. I didn’t voice my thoughts, but I surmised there was a thief in the workings of the funeral home.
Chapter 2
The Brooch
“I still can’t believe it,” said Sharon.
We had hurried back to her house to retrieve the papers to prove the brooch belonged to Sharon’s mother. Once we returned and showed them to Beverly, she quickly returned the jewelry to Sharon, who offered her compensation.
“Anne was one of my best customers, Sharon. I am happy for you to have it back where it belongs.” Beverly had lovingly wrapped the jewelry in tissue paper and then boxed it for Sharon.
Later, we sipped iced tea on Sharon’s deck and discussed the possibilities of John Goff stealing from bodies delivered to him for services.
“John was not a friendly person, but he was very professional in the way he dealt with families and took great care in preparations for services,” said Sharon. “I simply can’t believe he would steal from the bodies.” She dipped her head into outspread hands. “Candy, I have to find out what happened at the mortuary. I’m devastated that my mother’s last wish was not granted.”
“What are you planning to do?” I said. “I agree the matter needs to be looked into.”
“First of all, I am going to the police,” said Sharon. “If I need you, will you be willing to help me out? I will pay for your services, just like any other client of yours.”
I assured Sharon I would do all I could. We discussed my pending cases waiting for me, and in the end we decided to go to her local precinct together.
“I want you to call me as soon as you know anything. I have an associate who can fill in for a few days if you need me back here,” I told my best friend. “But first, it’s to the precinct.”
It was late afternoon on Saturday by this time. We picked up our purses once again and left for the police department. The detective investigating the murder of John Goff worked in his office. This was one file that meant overtime for the police department. At the front desk, an officer whose name read Sam Checkers greeted us. He took the information Sharon gave to him and told us to wait a few minutes. He closed the door behind him when he entered Detective Bruce McMillan’s office. After a few minutes, the detective came out to speak with Sharon. I was impressed by his detailed questions. She was then told to follow Officer Checkers to a small room where he would take her statement. Once that was completed, she signed the paper and we left.
“I feel better about it all now,” said Sharon. “I don’t know how you do it. I’m glad to turn it all over to the police. I have mother’s brooch back in safe keeping, and I’m happy to let them have a go at it from now on.”
I laughed at her. “That’s one rare difference between us, Sharon. It was hard for me to hold back on getting right in there with the police on the matter. I can assure you that from my standpoint, I had a very good first impression of their expertise.”
For the first time since a light lunch, we both decided we were ravenous. Sharon pointed out a restaurant on the wharf. During the meal, I noticed a couple who eyed us from a corner table.
“Don’t look back,” I said, “but there is a couple who seem interested in either you or me, or both of us.” Sharon asked for a description. I gave her a brief one, since I did not want to let them know I was as interested in them as they appeared to be in us. “She is actually quite attractive with thick short hair, sort of bobbed cut. She isn’t exactly thin but appears to have a slim build.”
“Did you say someone is with her? Is it a man or woman?”
“It’s a man. I can’t see him fully, but he has a haircut that looks like one Elvis sported years ago. It is black and he is sitting taller than she is.”
“That could explain rumors,” said Sharon. “Everyone suspects Vickie Goff is having an affair with the husband of a good friend of hers. Her friend is Janice Scholten, a psychic. The man you described fits the description of Sean Scholten.”
I had to laugh. “Tell me Janice the Psychic missed seeing the fact of the affair.”
“Either that or she chooses to ignore it all.” Sharon moved her hands to her lap as the server placed the seafood sampler in front of us. “Vickie and John Goff were rarely seen together in public. I have no idea what went on at home, but they seemed to lead two different lives outside the business.”
We changed the topic and Sharon spent the rest of the time at the restaurant expounding on her nonprofit business. I found it all fascinating, until we noticed there were only a few diners left. Sharon paid the bill, insisting on treating me, and we walked to her car. Three spaces down, the couple, who sat looking at us from time to time, got into an SUV. I pointed out the two to Sharon, who affirmed it was Vickie Goff and Sean Scholten. She continued her line of conversation about her work, and while I listened, I also watched in the outside mirror at the SUV following us. I did not mention it to Sharon, but when we left the jewelry shop earlier that day, I noticed Vickie Goff, who appeared to be window shopping outside the antique store. At the time, she did not give reason for me to wonder who she was. She was one of many shoppers doing the same thing.
Sharon poured two glasses of wine when we settled in her living room. The visit had been a good one between us. The next day was Sunday, and I would be driving home again.
“This has been a good break for me,” I said. “I hope they get to the bottom of the goings-on at the mortuary.”
“I’ve been thinking while I uncorked the wine,” said Sharon. “I think I’m going to pay a visit to Vickie Goff Monday and ask her about that piece of jewelry.”
I hesitated before replying. “Be careful if you do that. And let someone you trust know the time and where you are going.” It was my habit to be cautious in all matters. I didn’t think Sharon took it seriously that the couple had their eyes on us. Now I was sure they were intent on focusing on Sharon and perhaps simply wondering who I was. I finally told her about them following us to the street that Sharon turned onto to get home.
“It’s a small town,” she said. “I suppose they were taking the long way home.”
I decided to let her think everything was innocent, and maybe it was, I told myself, but again I cautioned her to be safe.
Sunday morning brought more sunshine and a warm day. Sharon placed two coffee cups on the table with steam rising up. She was still in her summer sweats she slept in and padded out to the front door where she retrieved the Sunday paper. She opened it and spread it on the table. The headlines glared. Local Mortician Found Murdered on River Bend Road.
I read the entire story aloud while Sharon poured more coffee. John Goff was found with three strategically placed stab wounds in his upper torso and one in his neck. The murder was vicious. It did not appear he put up a fight. Later I would discover more details about the case, but for now the police were not releasing details other than those stated in the article. I reached
for a notepad on the counter and took notes. When I arrived home I would bring up the article online, but for now there were several things of interest in the story.
“I think when I get home I’ll spend personal time on finding out more about Goff and Sons Mortuary,” I said. “In the meantime, let me know what the police discover about your mother’s jewelry. It’s a good thing we chose to go into that shop.”
Sharon agreed. “If we hadn’t, it may have been sold before I ever had a chance to find it. We would never have known about the undercover operations of the funeral home.” She looked at me. “I hate to keep talking about it when you only have a few minutes left here,” she said. I told her to tell me her thoughts. “Something tells me that this isn’t the first thing stolen from bodies,” said Sharon. “I wonder how many other victims there are out there.”
I knew people were often buried with wedding rings still on their fingers, and I had heard of more than one strange story of being buried with bizarre items, as well. Sharon had a point. As much as I wanted to delve into this more, I knew I should stand by and let the Sand Ridge Police Department do its job.
We quickly hugged, and I waved as I drove down Sharon’s driveway. I called from my window, “Be careful, Sharon. I’ll be back soon.” She blew me a kiss.
Chapter 3
Visit to the Mortuary
Early Monday morning, Sharon Mayes called her office in New York and told her secretary she would not be in until afternoon. She showered quickly and grabbed her purse. When she arrived at Goff and Sons Mortuary, the receptionist in the side office greeted her. In her hand was a brochure ready to hand out. The woman appeared to be in her fifties and was someone unfamiliar to Sharon. She knew there were some she did not know, since in the lake area people moved in and out from season to season.
“I would like to speak with Vickie,” said Sharon. “Is she around?”
The woman smiled and told her she would get her. When Vickie came into the reception room, Sharon asked her if she could speak with her privately. Sharon thought it odd that neither woman appeared to be grieving. She understood Vickie’s lack of love for her deceased husband. Perhaps the receptionist maintained a lack of grief because it was her job to be receptive toward all who entered.
“We can go into the next room,” said Vickie. She closed the door behind both of them and sat down. She offered Sharon a cup of coffee, which she declined.
“I don’t want to take up a lot of your time, Vickie, but something strange happened Saturday. I think it has something to do with the funeral home and services for my mother.”
Vickie shifted to the edge of her chair. “I do hope things went the way you wished. I did not keep up with the business side of John’s matters. I can have Catherine look at his files, if you wish.”
“The service was lovely,” said Sharon. “This has to do with a piece of jewelry that belonged to my mother. I left it with John and instructions for him to pin it to my mother’s dress. I promised her I would follow her wishes to be buried with the brooch. It had great meaning to her.”
“I am sure John followed your wishes, but I’m not sure what this has to do with the event you had over the weekend.” Vickie’s eyes held Sharon’s.
“A good friend of mine visited me over the weekend. We shopped in several antique shops. One that my mother especially enjoyed is owned by her good friend Beverly. I looked at pieces under one of the glasses and there it was. My mother’s brooch was there for sale. Candy and I went home and retrieved papers proving it was the same piece. Beverly generously insisted I have it back.”
“Then what is the problem?” asked Vickie. “I am glad you have it back in your possession.”
“The problem is that I wonder how it got from this funeral home to wherever and eventually to the shop where Beverly bought it from one of her vendors.”
Vickie slowly nodded her head as if stymied like Sharon was. Then she sat up straight. “Are you accusing Goff and Sons of stealing from dead people before burial?”
“I’m not accusing anyone. I want to know how reliable and honest your employees are.”
“It’s like I told you. John was secretive about his business. At least, he was when it came to me. He did not want me to know anything about it. That was fine with me. When I fell in love with him, I failed to realize that I would cringe when my husband came home from work.” She chuckled derisively and then said, “It wasn’t as if he had been working on an assembly line all day or in a respectable office somewhere. It didn’t take him long to figure out his line of work repulsed me.”
“We will all be dead someday,” said Sharon. “It’s a fact of life.”
“Of course it is but that, doesn’t mean I wanted to be married to someone who handled dead bodies for a living.”
“Why didn’t you divorce him?”
“Goffs never divorce,” said Vickie. “If you need anything else, call Catherine. She knows what goes on around here more than I do.”
On the way home, Sharon put several things together. Why did Vickie marry John to begin with? She knew what he did for a living before the “I do” was promised. The affair between Vickie Goff and Sean Scholten shouldn’t be a surprise after hearing of the inner workings of the Goff marriage. She could understand why Vickie withdrew from all interest in the business. But that still did not solve what went on before burials. Sharon decided to go on into work and call Candy that evening. She felt sure her friend had more insight than she did in a matter like this one.
***
Sunday night Nick arrived home at the same time I did. There was no time to get to my computer to find out everything I could about Goff and Sons Mortuary. We talked about our weekend, and I told Nick about the murder in Sand Ridge.
“How is it that murder and crimes follow you no matter where you go?” he said.
“I don’t know. It’s just one of those strange happenings in my life, I guess.”
It was good to hear the familiar chuckle coming from my tall handsome boyfriend. His reddish-blond hair highlighted crystal blue eyes that appeared to always be laughing.
“I think that funeral home needs to be thoroughly investigated, for starters,” I said.
“I thought you had enough going on in your own office,” he said. “Why get involved in something in the small town of Sand Ridge? Sharon has the brooch back, and I’m sure she is happy about that.”
“She is very happy but was shocked at how it turned up in Beverly’s antique shop. What if there are other thefts that families have no idea about.”
Nick agreed, but emphasized the police in Sand Ridge would take care of it. I knew he was right, but my trade drew me to the case. I told Nick I was going to spend spare time on the computer doing a little research, anyway. He chuckled again and wrapped me tightly in his strong arms.
When Natalie entered my office the next day she had already been working for an hour.
“You came in early for a Monday morning,” I said.
“Michael is visiting his family in Upstate New York, so not much went on for me.”
My associate was dating a police officer, Michael O’Neil. Natalie fell hard for him, and the feelings were reciprocated. I figured it had been a longer weekend for her than she was accustomed to. She told me he would not be home until the following weekend.
“It’s good we have these time-consuming cases going on right now,” she said.
We both turned when my receptionist, Evelyn Foster, came in. The forty-five-year-old was neat and trim, as usual. She wore a tailored suit as if she still worked in a large firm for the top executive. I didn’t mind, since she definitely gave clients an excellent first impression of the professionalism I wanted my office to project. After greetings, Evelyn went to the tea bags and dipped one in steaming hot water, while pushing the button on the answering machine. I planned to tell Evelyn and Natalie about my eventful weekend when we got our first break. The morning raced by, and we each snatched a break at different times.
“I brought my lunch,” said Evelyn, “but I suppose I can use it for my afternoon snack.”
Natalie stated she had not thought to bring anything with her. Evelyn turned the open sign to closed on the front door and locked it. We rode together in Natalie’s car. At the restaurant, while eating deli sandwiches, chips, and side salads, I told them of my weekend.
“Wow!” said Natalie. “That was sure more interesting than mine.”
“What will your friend do about investigating?” asked Evelyn.
“She is not an investigator, but she knows the victim’s wife and planned to see her today to find out what was going on at the funeral home. She thinks her mother was not the only one stolen from.” I explained Sharon’s line of work. “Before I left, we went to the precinct and she signed a statement of what happened. They appear to be on their toes, but murder doesn’t happen often in Sand Ridge, so I’m not sure what their approach will be.”
The lunch hour passed quickly, and soon we were back at our desks but not before we hashed over my story. I told them of my plan to delve into it on my own time. Natalie eagerly offered to do the same on her computer at home if I wanted her to do so. I knew she had good insight, and I gratefully accepted her offer.
“It will take up my evening times without Michael,” she said. “Besides, I find this very intriguing. It’s too bad we aren’t officially on the case.” Her enthusiasm snatched at me like a fly ball out of reach. That was my wish exactly.
Chapter 4
Back Home
Arriving home, my cell rang just as I set my purse on the kitchen table and went to the refrigerator for iced tea. Sharon asked me if I had a few minutes and I told her I did.