Funerals Can Be Murder (A Baby Boomer Mystery Book 5)

by Susan Santangelo

  “Well, of course I will,” I said, crossing my heart and looking as sincere as possible.

  “And your assignment is only for organizing the memorial service, nothing else,” Jenny said. “Mark was emphatic about that.”

  “I still don’t understand how you got to tell your mother about official police business,” Claire said. “I’ve never heard of anything like that before.”

  “Claire, you’re always such a stickler for proper procedure,” Nancy said, putting her arm around me. “Obviously, this is an unusual case. And unusual cases call for unusual procedures. Besides, Mark would never bend the rules without permission. He doesn’t want to lose his job.”

  Claire tsked. I think she was a little jealous, although I knew she’d never admit it.

  “Have you fixed a date for the memorial service?” asked Nancy. “I want to mark it in my datebook.”

  “You didn’t even know the guy,” Claire said. “Why in heaven’s name do you want to go?”

  “Because, with Carol in charge, I’m betting it will be the most entertaining memorial service Fairport has ever seen. And I don’t want to miss a minute of it!

  “And, besides, you’ll need our help, right Carol?” Nancy continued. “Remember how organized I was when we were planning our high school reunion a while ago? We’ve now morphed into the official Finnegan’s Wake planning committee.”

  Oh, boy. I thought I’d never recover from all those endless reunion planning meetings Nancy had insisted upon. And her checklists and timelines.

  Although, why couldn’t the memorial service be entertaining? I’d bet that would be a surprise to everyone, especially if we served liquor. Not enough to cause a drunken brawl. But just enough to loosen a few tongues. Like a pleasant interlude at a local pub.

  The more I thought about it, the more I liked this idea. We’d give Will Finnegan an Irish wake of sorts, and send him off in style. What could be more appropriate? And Louisa had given me free rein to organize anything I wanted. She and Deanna just wanted the whole thing over and done.

  Jenny’s phone pinged. After she checked it out, she rose to her feet and said, “That text was from Mark. He and Paul are on their way over here now.”

  She sent back a quick reply, then said, “All right, everybody out. Except Mom, of course. They want to talk to her alone.”

  My face must have registered my dismay. I would have been a lot more comfortable with this police visit if my cohorts were with me for moral support.

  Jenny gave me a quick peck on the cheek. “Don’t worry, Mom. You’ll be fine on your own. After all, it’s your brain they need right now.”

  Then she threw her arms around me and gave me a fierce hug. And whispered, “Just don’t be too bossy, okay? Let them talk, too.”

  Chapter 43

  If there’s a Guinness Stout, is there also a Guinness Thin?

  “This is the most irregular police investigation I’ve ever been involved in,” fumed Paul, following Mark and me into the dining room. “It’s absolutely ridiculous to rely on the assistance of someone from the general public to solve a criminal case. Especially someone who has a track record of sticking her nose into things that are none of her business. I think Chief Flanagan is way off base.”

  “Be sure you let him know that when it’s time for your performance review,” said Mark. “Somehow, I don’t think it’ll get you a promotion. Or a raise in salary.”

  He pulled out the chair at the head of the table and gestured for me to sit in it. Which immediately calmed my nerves. Although Mark had his professional detective face on, that gesture assured me that, for this meeting, I was in charge.

  Or, at the very least, I would be taken seriously.

  My mind flashed back to the last time Mark and Paul were in my house together on police business. It seemed like a million years ago, right before Jim’s retirement. That visit, because Jim was suspected of his retirement coach’s murder, marked the beginning of my sleuthing career. And also led to Mark and Jenny reconnecting after so many years apart, leading to their recent marriage. And the potential births of my possible grandchildren.

  I smiled.

  “It’s not funny,” said Paul, misinterpreting my reaction as usual.

  I ignored him and turned my attention to my son-in-law. Chocolates or not, he had some explaining to do. And an apology would also be nice.

  “This certainly is a surprise,” I said. “You couldn’t get me out of your office fast enough earlier today. What gives?”

  And I gave him my sternest mommy look.

  Mark blushed, something he used to do when he was a little boy and was under pressure. “I was out of line, Carol. You really caught me off guard. And when I gave the jewelry…”

  “The jewelry that I brought to you,” I reminded him.

  “When I gave the jewelry you brought in to Chief Flanagan,” Mark continued, “he saw a chance to use your involvement to get some positive publicity. The department just finished an online survey, and we took a lot of heat about not being involved enough with the community. I guess he figured this would be a great way to show how the public can assist the police in solving crimes. Go figure.”

  “I don’t get it, myself,” said Paul.

  “You don’t have to get it,” Mark reminded him. “Or like it. We’re here under orders from the chief.”

  He turned his attention to me. “So, what’s all this about another memorial service for Will Finnegan at Mallory and Mallory?”

  I shifted in my chair. I still wasn’t sure how to approach this with Mark and Paul. No matter how impressed the Fairport police chief was with me at the moment, apparently the whole thing was an attempt to get favorable publicity for the police department, not take me seriously as a sleuth.

  Especially when I told them I was throwing an Irish wake.

  But what the heck. I knew that, more often than not, my instincts about people were right on target. And as far as the other times, well, I’d rather not go into them, if you don’t mind.

  “In all the mystery stories I’ve read, especially Agatha Christie’s,” I began, ignoring a snort of disgust coming from across the table, “the mystery is always solved when the detective gathers all the suspects together in one place and reconstructs the crime. I figured that if a memorial service were finally held for Will Finnegan, people who had a connection to him, especially his girlfriends, would show up.”

  Another snort of disgust from Paul. Or was this one from Mark?

  I ignored it and smiled at both of them. Sweetly. “I’m so glad you’re both open to ideas, because I have a few more.”

  “Sarcasm duly noted, Carol,” Mark said, his lips twitching. “Go on. I, at least, am listening.”

  “As I was saying, Will Finnegan was a real Romeo. And I’m betting that Will sent all his girlfriends a ‘goodbye, it’s-been-nice-knowing-you’ letter before he left town. Which was a fatal mistake.”

  I took a deep breath and continued with my theory. “I’m sure that one of Will’s jilted girlfriends murdered him, and another one planted the scissors. Or maybe it was the same person who did both. But that doesn’t make any sense.”

  “None of this makes any sense,” Paul said with a scowl. “In fact, it’s the stupidest, thinnest case of circumstantial evidence I’ve ever heard. Based on sheer speculation and the overactive imagination of an elderly woman with too much time on her hands.”

  Elderly woman! That did it. I sprang from my seat, ready to smack him one, then realized I could be arrested for assaulting a police officer.

  “Take it easy, Carol,” Mark said, putting a restraining hand on my arm and pulling me back into my chair. “Ignore him. Talk to me. I’m willing to go along with this scheme because you’ve been right on target with some ideas in the past.”

  Mark shifted his gaze to Paul. “Just in case you’ve forgott
en about that. And I don’t see you making much progress on the Finnegan case, yourself.”

  “I’m following up some leads,” Paul said, a little too loudly. “These things take time in the real world, unlike what’s shown in fictional detective stories.” He glared at me, daring me to contradict him.

  “Who have you talked to?” Mark asked.

  “That hairstylist, Deanna, for one,” Paul said. “She’s definitely on my suspect list. I already talked to her once, and I was going back this afternoon to talk to her again. I think she knows more than she’s saying.”

  “I’m sure she’ll be at the memorial service,” I said.

  If I haven’t solved the case by then, maybe you can talk to her there.

  I didn’t really say that last part. Of course.

  Then I turned my full attention to my son-in-law. “Helen Konisburg from Fancy Francie’s should provide the food for the service. I have a hunch that she was another one of Will’s girlfriends.”

  I suppose, at this point, I should have been clearer about exactly what kind of food was going to be served, but I chickened out. I had to get them to buy into the idea of the memorial service first, before I sprang the Irish wake theme on them.

  “And Melinda Mallory will be there, since the memorial will be at the funeral home her family owns,” I said. “She could be another of the girlfriends.”

  I was pleased to see that Mark was making a few notes while I was talking. At least he was taking what I said seriously.

  Time for me to switch gears and ask Mark to share some information.

  “What about Isaac Weichert? I know you talked to him last night. Did he tell you anything important?”

  Then, a horrible thought struck me. “You don’t think he’s involved, do you? I mean, he’s not on the suspect list, is he? That would just devastate Mary Alice. It’s the first time she’s shown a real interest in another man since her husband died.”

  Mark put on his official cop face. “He told me a few things that may or may not be helpful, Carol. And that’s all I’m saying.”

  I gave up. Gracefully. I knew from previous experience that, when he had that official look on his face, pressing him for more information would only make him defensive. And angry.

  Besides, I had other fish to fry.

  “Of course, Will’s widow, Louisa, will be at the memorial service,” I continued, “as well as other family members. Including Will’s brother Jack. Who’s been in love with Louisa for years.”

  I waited for a beat to let that information sink in, then added, “That gives both of them a motive for wanting Will out of the way. Permanently. I hope I’m wrong about that, though. They’re both really nice people.”

  Of course, Paul couldn’t wait to shoot my theory down. “You’re jumping to conclusions again, with no real evidence to back it up,” he said. “Typical behavior for someone who bases her knowledge of detective work on reading mysteries.” He sat back in his chair, confident that he had poked enough holes in my theory that I shouldn’t be taken seriously.

  “How in the world do you know about this so-called romance?” Mark asked, his face mirroring skepticism.

  “I paid a condolence call on the family, delivered some food, and got to talking with Louisa. I wasn’t prying, no matter what you may think. It just came out in the course of our conversation.”

  I shrugged and tried to look innocent. “People confide in me.”

  In the interest of family harmony, Mark raised his eyebrows and let that remark pass. But he seemed more and more interested in my so-called wild theories. And he was definitely taking more notes.

  “Jack’s resemblance to his late brother is amazing,” I said. “In fact, he came to my door a few days after Will’s death and scared the heck out of me. For a few seconds, I thought it was Will, back from the dead.”

  Hmm. Now that was an interesting thought.

  I wondered if other people—particularly Will’s girlfriends—would react the same way I did when they saw Jack at the memorial service. I already knew that he’d arrived late to the first one, so none of the guests, a.k.a. Will’s possible girlfriends, had seen him.

  “You’ve got that pensive expression on your face that always scares me, Carol,” Mark said. “What are you thinking about now?”

  To share, or not to share? That, indeed, was the question.

  “It just occurred to me,” I said slowly, “that Jack’s appearance at the service could be a real shock to some people, because he looks so much like his dead brother. Maybe, enough of a shock to force a confession out of one of the guests.”

  “Assuming he’s not guilty, himself,” Mark said.

  I flushed bright red. First I’d come up with a reasonable scenario with Jack in the starring role as First Murderer. Then I came up with an equally reasonable scenario with Jack as the bait to identify the murderer.

  “I guess I can’t have it both ways,” I admitted. “But I think that Jack is key to clearing up this whole thing. One way, or the other.”

  Time to come clean on my Big Idea.

  “I’m sure this memorial will be something people will talk about for years. Especially since it will be done as an Irish wake.”

  Both Mark and Paul looked puzzled. “What’s that?” Mark asked. “I’ve never heard that phrase.”

  “Oh, you know how the Irish are,” I said. “Any excuse for a party. Good food, maybe a little fiddle music. Some Jameson’s whiskey. And a wee pint, or two, of Guinness to drink a toast to the deceased. All bound to loosen people’s tongues. Don’t you think?”

  I smiled at them sweetly. “I’m sure Chief Flanagan will love the idea, being such a good Irish lad himself.”

  Chapter 44

  If anyone has the nerve to ask me how old I am, I always add on at least ten years. That way, everybody tells me how fantastic I look for my age.

  “Tell me again why we had to be here so early,” Claire said. “The newspaper article said the memorial service won’t start until eleven o’clock. That means we’ll be sitting around, with nothing to do, for at least an hour. You wouldn’t even let us stop to get coffee.”

  “Oh, stop griping,” said Nancy. She slammed the car door shut and turned to me. “I’m sure Carol has a good reason. But it really is weird that we’re here so far ahead of the family.”

  I ignored the two of them. Claire always complains about anything she’s not in charge of, and Nancy…well, Nancy sometimes joins her. But they both go along with me. Eventually.

  I turned to the third member of my group. “Are you absolutely sure that Isaac and his partner are working today, Mary Alice? You checked with him this morning, right? Neither of them called in sick, did they?”

  Claire rolled her eyes. Even the usually patient Mary Alice seemed annoyed at my questions.

  “Carol, for heaven’s sake. You’ve asked me about Isaac at least ten times since I got in the car. And the answer is always the same. I talked to Isaac at eight o’clock. He seemed surprised to hear from me so early, but he confirmed that he and his regular partner are working the nine-to-four shift today. Please, don’t ask me again. You’re starting to sound like a broken record.”

  “A damaged CD,” Nancy said. “Nobody plays records anymore.”

  “And why is that so important to you, Carol?” Claire asked.

  “I was wondering the same thing,” Mary Alice said. Then, her eyes widened. “Oh, my gosh. Isaac isn’t a suspect, is he? He’s such a nice guy.”

  “Don’t worry, Mary Alice,” I said, sidestepping a direct answer. “Isaac’s not high on my list. But by an odd coincidence, he and his partner were the paramedics who answered Will Finnegan’s nine-one-one call the night he died.”

  I didn’t want to add that Isaac was also on a ride-along with Paul Wheeler the night of the first memorial service. That would have necessitated a
lot of questions about the community police course, and what a ride-along meant, and gotten us way off track.

  Something I never do.

  And I never would have mentioned how key Isaac could be to clearing up this whole mess. After all, Mark had hinted that Isaac gave him some helpful information, which he refused to share with me.

  Well, I had some inside information of my own. Not that this was a competition between me and the police. Of course not.

  “Who’s Isaac’s partner?” Nancy asked. “Is he single?”

  That made me laugh. “Nancy, you really are too much sometimes.”

  “Isaac’s partner is a woman, Nancy,” Mary Alice said. “Her name is Pam Augustine, and she’s absolutely gorgeous. Carol and I met her at Fancy Francie’s a few days ago.”

  Mary Alice shook her head. “I don’t understand why Isaac is dating me when he could be dating her.”

  “Because you’re gorgeous, too,” I said. “And besides, Pam Augustine is much too young for him. Isaac has the good sense to choose to spend his time with someone who can relate to the same things he can.”

  “I guess you’re right, Carol,” Mary Alice said. “Thanks for giving my ego a boost.”

  “Any time,” I said. Time to get back to business.

  “When we get inside the funeral home,” I said to my team, “I’m going straight to the office to talk to Melinda Mallory. One of the things I want you to do right away is figure out which spots in Slumber Room A are the best for keeping an eye on everyone’s comings and goings. That needs to happen before anyone else gets here.”

  Nancy raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow and said, “Slumber Room A? You’ve got to be kidding.”

  “Nope. That’s what the rooms are called.” I reached into my car and pulled out a cardboard box filled with photos. “Here,” I said, handing the box to Claire, “take this inside. Deanna gave me these pictures of Will from vacations they took together. Spread them around the room, so that, everywhere people look, they’ll see Will. Let me know if you need more. I have another whole box from Louisa. She was glad to get rid of them.”