by Morgana Best
Jezabeth sighed. “Which coffins are available?”
The consultant opened another glossy brochure. “We have these nice wooden ones and then there are also some new environmental coffins made out of cardboard.”
Jezabeth’s eyes lit up. “Cardboard? That sounds perfect. Yes, we can bury her in a cardboard coffin.” She eagerly thumbed through the brochure before letting out a shriek. “What? These cardboard ones are as expensive as normal coffins.”
“Yes, they are a little more expensive than the lower-priced range of coffins, and they take a week to make, maybe longer,” the consultant said.
Jezabeth was clearly in a temper. “All right, so what’s the cheapest coffin you actually have in stock right now, as of this minute?”
“I’ll have to go out and make a few calls to find out,” the consultant said.
“You do that,” Jezabeth spat.
The consultant soon returned and showed Jezabeth a photo. I noticed all the mints had disappeared, and Hemlock was chewing. “We have this coffin in stock, and it’s in the lower price range. Your mother could be buried in this coffin the day after tomorrow.”
“It’s a deal,” Jezabeth said, “unless you have any further objections, Agnes?”
“That’s fine,” Agnes said.
“Now, do you want the coffin to be placed above the ground? For the service at the cemetery, a minister usually talks and then someone gives me a subtle nod and I press the button to lower the coffin,” she said.
“But we’ve already told you there won’t be a minister,” Jezabeth yelled.
“Well, how would you like to have the service?” the consultant asked. I wondered if she’d ever had anyone as difficult as Jezabeth before. I figured not.
“I don’t know. Would you like to say anything at the gravesite, Hemlock?”
“Yes, I’d like to say something and I’d like to place some roses on top of Grannie’s coffin,” Hemlock said.
“Okay, then we don’t want you to lower the coffin while we’re there. Poor Hemlock will be too upset seeing the coffin lowered. We’ll say something and then after we leave, you can lower the coffin.”
The consultant left the room for a few minutes. She didn’t give a reason this time. I wondered if she had left to have a stiff shot of gin. Goodness knows she would have needed one. When she returned, Jezabeth had to sign a lot of paperwork, as did the aunts.
“The death certificate will be mailed to one of you,” the consultant said. “Who should I send it to?”
“You can send it to me,” Jezabeth said. “You have my address.”
The consultant scrawled something on a piece of paper.
“Since it isn’t an open casket, do you mind if we see Gorgona, I mean Euphemia, before the funeral?” Aunt Agnes asked.
Jezabeth waved one long, bony finger at her. “Do whatever you like, so long as it doesn’t cost anything.”
“Then is it possible to see her?” Agnes asked the consultant.
“Well, let us put some make-up on her first,” the consultant said. “Could you do that on the morning of the funeral? We’re not prepared for you to see her today. It takes time.”
“I don’t want you to see Grannie,” Hemlock said firmly. “I know Grannie doesn’t want you to see her like that. Grannie wants everybody to remember her how she was.”
“We were her cousins and we want to say goodbye to her,” Aunt Agnes said firmly.
“I don’t want you to and I’m her granddaughter,” Hemlock said. She burst into another bout of fake tears.
“Can’t you see you’re upsetting Hemlock?” Jezabeth said tersely. “Poor Hemlock! She’s sensitive, and she doesn’t want you to see her grandmother.”
“Nobody is gonna look at Grannie!” Hemlock screamed.
“I understand you might not want to look at your grandmother, but we, her cousins, would like to say our last goodbyes,” Aunt Agnes said calmly. “Jezabeth, please grant us our dearest wish by letting us see your mother.”
“No!” Jezabeth snapped.
I raised my eyebrows. So much for Aunt Agnes’s plan to have an open casket or a viewing. Now we were going to have to find another way to procure Gorgona’s hair to have it tested for poison.
“But we want to see our cousin,” Aunt Maude said. “Cousins outdo granddaughters.”
“This isn’t a card game,” Jezabeth snapped. “I’m her daughter and I won’t allow you to see her.”
“Well, I’m an executor and I want to see her,” Aunt Maude said.
“Why don’t you all discuss it outside?” the consultant said. “I don’t want to hurry you out, but I have other clients arriving at any minute. It was lovely to meet you all. I’ll see you again the day after tomorrow.” With that, she ushered us out of the office.
Aunt Agnes stayed back. “Where do you keep the body?”
The consultant looked surprised. “The body?” she echoed.
“Yes, where is the body of Euphemia Jones now? I assume it’s not on the premises.”
The consultant shook her head. “Oh no, we’re taking good care of her.”
“Yes, but exactly where is she?”
“Oh, she’s at our head office morgue.”
“In Lighthouse Bay?”
The consultant nodded.
“Thanks,” Aunt Agnes said.
As we walked out, we saw Hemlock sitting on the side of the road, her head between her knees.
Jezabeth marched over to us. “Look what you’ve done!” she yelled at Aunt Agnes. “You’ve given Hemlock an anxiety attack by wanting to see her grandmother. She told you she didn’t want you to, but you kept insisting. How can you be so nasty? You’ve upset Hemlock.” With that, she marched away to her car, leaving Hemlock sitting on the side of the road.
“Your plans to see Gorgona nearly worked out,” I said to Aunt Agnes. “What a pity Hemlock objected.”
“I’ll have to drive past the morgue and see if we can break in,” Aunt Agnes said. “Then we can take some of her hair.”
“I have an idea,” Aunt Dorothy said. “We could swap the bodies. I saw it on a TV show. They thought they shot someone who was a spy, but the spy set it all up. She had someone else’s body in the bushes and she swapped places with them. If we swap the body, then we can take as many samples of Gorgona’s hair as we want.”
“Have you completely lost your mind, Dorothy?” Aunt Agnes said, while Aunt Maude chuckled.
Aunt Dorothy looked affronted. “I thought it was an excellent idea. If we can’t get some of her hair, then we can swap her body for someone else’s, take her home to the manor and take lots of hair samples there.”
Aunt Agnes groaned. “Honestly, Dorothy! Sometimes I wonder about you. If we couldn’t take some of her hair, then how would we be able to take her whole body?”
Aunt Dorothy looked crestfallen. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
“I’ll drive past the morgue now,” Agnes said. “What’s the address again?”
I consulted my notes. “It’s 199 Flinders Drive.”
“Did you say 199 Flinders Drive?” Maude said. “That’s where Pillsbury works! He’s a cosmetician.”
Chapter 10
Linda and I were sitting at a local café with the aunts, staring at the DVD cover of Karen and the mystery man. “We really can’t see his face,” Linda said, peering at the photo.
When the waitress approached, Maude snatched the DVD cover from her and turned it upside down. After we gave our orders for coffee and cake, Maude flipped the cover up. She tapped her chin. “What if we take the photo home and scan it, then take it to a photo studio and have it blown up?”
Aunt Agnes pulled her reading glasses out of her handbag and took the DVD case from Maude. She turned the case this way and that. “I don’t think there’s enough of his face to see, no matter how much it’s blown up. You can only see the corner of his mouth and the edge of one eye. You can’t even see his nose, and a sheet is covering the top of his head.”
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“Could we pressure Karen into telling us who he is?” I suggested.
The aunts shook their heads. “Well, maybe as a last resort,” Aunt Agnes conceded, “but she’s hardly likely to give us the information, considering she was no doubt being blackmailed over it. She wants to keep that secret at all costs, especially if she murdered Gorgona.”
“Then if Karen won’t tell us, who can?” I asked.
Aunt Agnes slapped the DVD cover down on the table hard, making us all jump. “I know! Killian Cosgrove wouldn’t have known, but Mrs Mumbles might have.”
“Why would she have known?” I said.
“Mrs Mumbles is a clever woman,” Aunt Agnes said. “She was having an affair with Killian, and given that she seemed to be insanely jealous, I bet she kept a close eye on Karen. If anyone is going to know who Karen was having an affair with, then it would be Mrs Mumbles.”
“I think it’s an awful stretch, Agnes,” Aunt Maude said. “It’s a long shot.”
Aunt Agnes shrugged. “Maybe, but can you think of any alternatives?”
We all shook our heads.
“But even if Mrs Mumbles does know the identity of the mystery man, why would she tell you?” Linda asked.
Aunt Agnes narrowed her eyes. “You do have a good point, Linda.” She was silent for a moment before saying, adding, “You know, that’s the angle we can take.”
I was puzzled. “What angle?”
“The angle that Mrs Mumbles probably hated Karen. After all, she was clearly in love with Killian Cosgrove and he didn’t leave his wife for her.”
“But he…” I began, but she interrupted me.
“Whatever the reason, Valkyrie, the fact remains that he didn’t leave his wife for Mrs Mumbles and so she probably resented Karen, hated her even. She might be only too pleased to tell us who Karen was seeing.”
“That might be true,” I countered, “but she won’t be happy with us, given we’re the reason that she’s in jail right now on remand without bail, awaiting trial.”
“We can only try,” Aunt Agnes said. “What can it hurt?”
“I assume she’s in a Sydney prison, so it would involve booking in for a visit and having to go to Sydney,” Maude said. “That’s a waste of a whole day.”
“It isn’t a waste of a day if we get something out of her,” Agnes countered.
“Is there anybody else who would know who Karen is seeing?” Linda said. “I know! Why don’t we follow her?”
“That’s a fantastic idea,” Aunt Agnes said, just as the waitress appeared with the coffee.
“Will you be bringing our cakes soon please?” asked Aunt Maude. “We would like our cakes with our coffee.”
The waitress apologised and went to fetch our cakes.
“We should split up on this one,” Aunt Agnes said. “Valkyrie, why don’t you and Linda tail Karen? Maude, keep an eye on Cary and things at the manor, while Dorothy and I will go and see Mrs Mumbles.”
“Sure,” I said. “When do you plan to do this?”
“We will book in for the soonest appointment,” Agnes said. “Valkyrie, do you have your iPad on you?” I nodded. She pushed on. “Make me a list of prisons in Sydney where women are held on remand, and I’ll call them all and try to track down Mrs Mumbles.”
“What if she refuses to see you?” I asked.
She shrugged. “Well, then we won’t go, but I imagine she would be bored in prison and would be at least curious as to why we want to visit.”
“Maybe.” I was unconvinced.
And so, an hour later, Linda and I found ourselves sitting in a café not far from Killian and Karen’s nail salon in a major shopping centre.
This time, we had both ordered decaf coffee as our caffeine levels were through the roof.
“I wish we could see inside the salon from here,” Linda lamented.
“We can see who comes and goes,” I pointed out.
“And it’s good that it’s a major shopping centre and there is no back way out,” Linda said. “We’ll be able to see Karen when she leaves.”
“What if her lover lives somewhere else and only comes to town once a month or something?”
Linda sighed. “I hadn’t thought of that. This could turn out to be quite boring. Would you like some cake?”
I clutched my stomach. “No, I couldn’t eat another thing.”
“When I rang up to pretend to book an appointment with Karen earlier, they said she was only available until noon and after that I’d have to book with some other woman,” Linda said. “I made an excuse, of course. I wonder if it’s worth booking in for a pedicure, and cross-examining those other women. They might have a clue about who she’s seeing.”
I disagreed. “I don’t think so. Don’t forget, Karen jointly owns the salon along with her husband. Sure, he’s in prison now, but she would have been careful for ages to make sure no one from the salon knew that she was having an affair.”
“You’re right.” Linda turned over her phone on the table and looked at the time. “It’s noon now, and there’s no sign of her.”
“She’s probably instructing the staff or something,” I said, before grabbing Linda’s arm. “Look, here she comes now.”
Karen Cosgrove walked out of the salon and headed in our direction. I took a menu from the table and stuck my head behind it. Linda did the same. “She just passed us,” I said, peeking around the menu. “She’s going into the supermarket.”
“She has to come back past us,” Linda said. “We don’t have to move.”
Karen was only in the supermarket for five or so minutes before she came out. “Get ready,” I said to Linda. “Oh, wait! She’s gone to the health food shop.”
Karen was in the health food shop for a further five minutes. “Here she comes now,” I said.
Linda rolled her eyes. “I hope she leaves now. This is going to be boring if she goes into every single shop.”
“Okay, she’s heading away. Let’s go.” I stood up.
Karen headed away from the shops and down the escalators to the car park. Linda and I kept our distance, but there were plenty of shoppers around us to hide us.
“Okay, she’s going to her car. It seems to be in the general direction of my car,” Linda said.
I nodded to the far exit diagonally opposite us. “I think she’ll leave that way.”
I got in Linda’s car. She reversed and then drove off slowly in the direction of Karen’s car. She followed her, taking care not to get too close.
“I googled her home address and it looks like she’s headed there now,” I said with disappointment.
“Maybe she’ll stay there all afternoon and the boyfriend won’t visit,” Linda said.
I pulled a face. “And I doubt he could go to her house anyway, because his car would be seen outside. I think this is a wild goose chase.”
We drove along to the outskirts of town. Although I had heard of the street in which she lived, I didn’t realise it was a new development with hardly any houses around. Hers was the only house built in her cul-de-sac and all the others were under construction.
“That’s convenient if the boyfriend wants to visit her,” Linda said as she parked down the road and we watched Karen’s car drive into her garage.
“I’ve been thinking about it,” I said. “She would have had a routine with her lover. Obviously, he wouldn’t have gone to her house because of her husband, Killian. That means Karen would have had to go elsewhere to visit her lover.”
“That’s true!” Linda exclaimed. “And since he was married, then they couldn’t meet at his house either. They must’ve met at a motel.”
“And at a motel where nobody knew them,” I said. “Clearly, Karen didn’t want news of her affair getting back to Killian, so I’d be surprised if they met in a motel in Lighthouse Bay.”
“But since Karen was married and ran a business, she wouldn’t have been able to get away often.”
I turned to Linda. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, Karen was married and ran a business in Lighthouse Bay with her husband. That means she would have been very careful with her absences, or her husband would have known something was going on.”
“But her husband was having an affair with Mrs Mumbles,” I said. “He must have had unexplained absences.”
“Then that’s when Karen had her opportunity,” Linda said, “but my point is, she must have been having an affair with someone who lives in town.”
“That’s true,” I said. “And we have established that they couldn’t have met at her house. Maybe, it’s someone from the same shopping centre, and then no one would be any the wiser.”
Linda readily agreed. “I think it must be something like that. You know, Killian Cosgrove used to go to those orchid club meetings, so that’s when Karen would have had plenty of time to get up to no good.”
I clutched my head with both hands. “This is doing my head in! I doubt we will ever figure this one out. I think we’ve come to a dead end. And we might as well leave, because we can’t sit outside her house all day, hoping this person will show up.”
Linda opened her mouth to say something, when Aunt Agnes called me. I swiped my screen.
“I know who the mystery man in the photo is!” Agnes exclaimed.
Chapter 11
“Who was it?” I asked.
“Franklyn Sutton!”
Linda and I exchanged glances. Just then, my phone cut out. I pressed the button to call Aunt Agnes back, but it went straight to voicemail. “Have you ever heard of Franklyn Sutton?” I asked Linda.
She nodded. “The name does sound a bit familiar, and your aunt said it as if she expected us to know who it was.”
Just then, my phone rang again. “The phone cut out,” Aunt Agnes said, stating the obvious.
“Who is Franklyn Sutton?” I asked her.
“He’s a town councillor.”
Linda and I looked at each other and nodded. “That’s right. I saw him on TV the other week,” I said.
“He’s on TV all the time. He has political aspirations.”