by Morgana Best
Alum laughed. “Before I was shot, I was barely ever home. I lived for my work. This was just a place to sleep; I wasn’t even here to eat much of the time. I used to eat take-out at the office.”
I smiled and nodded. I could see that. The ultra modern kitchen was open plan, and in the living room was a single sofa facing the TV on the far wall. A large desk dominated the room. It was covered with files, pens, and a laptop. The desk top was rather untidy. A huge air conditioner dominated the wall. There was no cozy fireplace for intimate nights in winter.
“It needs a woman’s touch,” Alum said with a grin.
My legs trembled. Did he mean me? Or was it just a saying, just something someone would say without any thought? I really had to stop reading things into everything he said or did. I just wished he would pull me into a passionate embrace and clear up matters once and for all.
Alum poured me a glass of wine, and indicated we should sit on the couch. Unfortunately, he sat up one end of the couch, so I followed suit and sat up the other. I had imagined we would sit together sipping wine, his strong arm around me, but sadly that was not how it played out.
Nevertheless, we still fell into easy conversation, just as we had back when he had appeared to me in spirit form. It wasn’t all that long ago. We discussed the case. It was good to talk to Alum so easily, but it would have been nice to talk about something other than police work.
“This consultancy puts an end to all your financial worries, doesn’t it, Prudence?” Alum said. He had just returned from the kitchen after fetching the wine bottle.
I shrugged, holding out my glass for the offered topping up of wine. I silently counseled myself to be careful not to drink too much, so I could keep my wits about me. “I don’t actually have the job yet,” I reminded him. “It all depends how I go with this trial.”
“That’s just a formality, I’m sure,” Alum said as he sat down on the couch. “I’m sure Larry’s impressed with you. How could he not be?”
My stomach did flip flops at the way Alum was looking at me. “I hope you’re right,” I squeaked, hoping Alum wouldn’t guess the real reason for the way my voice sounded. “I’ve done my best with the case so far, contacting Mrs. Cornford. There’s nothing else I can do, really.”
Alum’s expression changed. “Prudence, please don’t go out to Mrs. Cornford’s house alone.” I frowned. He hurried to continue. “Please take me with you, if you want to go.”
“Sure,” I said, but something in my voice made him fix me with a steely gaze.
“Prudence, please don’t go alone. I don’t have a good feeling about it.”
I had to laugh. “So who’s the psychic now?”
“You always tell me that you’re not psychic, that you’re a clairvoyant medium.”
I laughed again. “Touché! But seriously, if I do feel the need to go out there, I’ll stay in my car.”
“And keep your doors locked,” Alum said, his tone solemn.
I nodded. “I will.”
Alum seemed pleased with that. “Now, let’s eat. I hope you enjoy my cooking, Prudence.”
We walked over to the table, a beautiful old table that appeared to be rosewood. It was the only timber in the entire room, apart from a rather nice looking dining chair. I wondered why there was only one chair.
“Are you wondering why there is only one chair?” Alum asked me.
I was taken aback. “Maybe you really are psychic,” I said for a joke.
“No, just a detective,” he said with a smile, as he wheeled his desk chair over to the dining table. “I have to admit that I’m a stereotypical bachelor. If I do work at home, it’s always on the couch watching TV. I bought this dining chair today so you can sit here when you visit.”
I was touched by the gesture, and also by the implication that I would be coming here for more than one meal. Although, if he thought I would be a regular guest, why hadn’t he bought two dining chairs?
“It’s great that we’ll be working together on cases,” Alum said.
My spirits plummeted. Is that why he had bought a chair for me, so we could sit here and discuss cases? This was driving me mad. I just had to know. Still, there was no way I was going to come out and ask him. I just wasn’t that brave.
We chatted together over dinner, and I enjoyed every second of it. The time passed all too quickly. I helped him clear away the plates, and then he took my dessert from the fridge.
“Lemon meringue pie, my favorite,” he said with delight.
I noticed all the color had drained from his face. “Alum, I suspect you’re supposed to be on bed rest, aren’t you?” The expression that crossed his face gave me the answer. “How about we eat this on the couch,” I said, “so you can relax a little more.”
Alum readily agreed, and went to sit on the couch, while I placed the desserts onto plates. As I carried both plates over, I saw that Alum was already fast asleep, his head resting back on the edge of the couch.
I carried the desserts back to the kitchen, which was only a few steps away at any rate, and placed them back into the container. I couldn’t see a blanket around, but Alum’s jacket was still his desk chair so I covered him with that as best I could.
That did not wake him at all. It was clear that he was in a deep sleep. I didn’t know what else to do, so I let myself out.
Chapter 13
I was sitting inside the funeral home chapel, with my purse on the seat next to me, saving the seat for Alum. He had called me that morning to apologize for falling asleep, and although I had assured him that I didn’t mind, it was clear that he was awfully embarrassed.
No doubt many people found funeral homes to be somber and dour, but I found them anything but boring. Spirits generally liked to hang around them, and I had no doubt that Mrs. Cornford’s spirit would attend her own funeral. Spirits generally did. I only hoped that the sight of her murderer would jog her memory, and I had absolutely no doubt whatsoever that her murderer would be there.
Larry obviously thought the same, because he was sitting with another officer—at least I assumed he was another officer. It was clear they were detectives by their manner and their clothes. They were sitting at the back of the chapel, no doubt to keep an eye on proceedings and stay as anonymous as they could.
Most of the town had turned out. Everyone knew Mrs. Cornford to some degree, and I’m sure most of them didn’t like the woman. I figured they were attending her memorial service out of curiosity. Just then, a horrible thought occurred to me. Constance, Iris, and Barbara were likely to attend. I groaned and put my head in my hands. Why hadn’t I thought of that before? It was obvious.
I moved along to the end of the row, and put my purse on the seat I had saved for Alum, a seat next to the wall. If any of my friends did show up, then at least I could sit between them and Alum as a buffer.
My worst fears were realized only moments later. Constance marched into the room with a flourish. She looked around the chapel, and when her eyes alighted on me, she hurried past the seats to me. “Do you think the media will be here?” she asked eagerly.
“No idea,” I said, taking in the abundance of make-up on her face, and her clothes that looked more like she was attending a prince’s ball than a memorial service. “Are the others coming?” I asked her, unable to keep the dismay from my voice.
Constance looked behind her. “Oh, here they are now.”
Iris and Barbara sat next to Constance. “A lot of people are here today,” Barbara said by way of greeting. “Prudence, can you squeeze along to the end of the row?”
I felt my cheeks burn hot. “I’m saving a seat for someone.”
All three women swung their heads to look at me at once. “Who?” they all asked in unison. “Is it a man?” Barbara asked, her eyes lighting up.
“Yes, it’s that detective you met the other day at my house,” I said wearily.
“Have you...?” Iris asked.
“No!” I said. “Shush, he comes now.”
“Hello, again,” Barbara said in her most flirtatious manner.
“We meet again,” Constance said in what I think was meant to be a posh tone, but in fact sounded more like that of a bloodthirsty vampire in an old horror movie. Iris, mercifully, remained silent.
Alum shifted in his seat. There was no further opportunity for conversation, because the minister stepped up to the pulpit and began his talk about Mrs. Cornford. He spoke in a monotone, and I felt myself drifting off to sleep. It was hot and stuffy in the chapel, and the claustrophobic atmosphere didn’t help. Constance repeatedly whispered in my ear, asking me questions about Alum, clearly ignoring the fact that he was sitting on the other side of me and wasn’t hard of hearing. All I could do was nudge her in the ribs, but it had no effect whatsoever. Iris kept giving me the thumbs up, which of course Alum could have seen, given that he wasn’t horrendously short sighted. I felt a headache coming on and looked through my purse for some Advil.
Just then, I became aware of Mrs. Cornford’s spirit. She was making no attempt to communicate with me, but I hoped she would do so if she recognized her killer, or killers.
I looked around the room to see the four suspects. Sally was sitting directly in front of me, but Boris McIntosh was in the front row, sitting alone. I figured that Mrs. Cornford’s ex-husband wasn’t present, or surely he would have been sitting in the front row as well. The builders were on the other side of the chapel, sitting a few seats from the front, with women who were probably their wives. I looked around the room to see if I could see anyone else who would be a likely suspect, although I had no idea how just the sight of someone would give me any clues.
I wanted to speak to Mrs. Cornford, but could hardly do so aloud here. I would just have to wait until after the service.
As Mrs. Cornford’s nephew crossed to the front of the room to give the eulogy, Alum leaned over to me. “So sorry about last night,” he said.
Unfortunately, Constance overheard him, because she whispered in my ear, “Tell him not to worry. Doctors can give him pills for that.”
I elbowed her in the ribs rather too hard, and hissed, “It’s nothing like that!”
Constance merely smirked at me, and then winked. “If you say so.” She laughed uproariously.
Mrs. Cornford’s nephew’s eulogy was unremarkable, but typical, I suppose, of most eulogies. He said Mrs. Cornford was a lovely person, and a wonderful aunt, but he did read in a deadpan monotone directly from several sheets of paper that were not in any order, so this speech did not make much sense. He did not seem at all perturbed by this, and was simply going through the motions and didn’t appear to care who knew it. He in no way came across as someone lamenting a dear departed aunt. I wondered about their relationship, but then again, there was no one else giving a eulogy, so he probably liked Mrs. Cornford more than anyone else in town had.
When the minister went back to the pulpit, he told everyone they were welcome to tea and coffee in the next room, and that there would be no graveside service due to the police not yet releasing the body.
I was saddened by the fact that all eyes were dry—not one person was crying or even had a tissue to their face. I also wondered how I could get out of hanging around the memorial service, because I knew that Alum and I were about to be subjected to a round of intense questioning.
And I was right. Barbara grabbed one of Alum’s arms and Constance grabbed the other, and they propelled him past me to the next room.
“So,” Constance began in her usual overbearing manner, “Prudence was working on a case with you?”
Alum simply nodded.
“Please don’t ask too many questions,” I said. “You know that Alum was injured in the line of duty, and he’s still recovering.” Unfortunately, that only made their eyes light up even more.
“Yes, it can’t be too good to be injured in the line of duty for a man of your age,” Iris said. “It would be bad enough for a young man, certainly not you.”
I resisted the urge to strangle her with difficulty. To my relief, Alum looked amused.
“Oh hush, Iris,” Barbara said. “You’re being offensive.”
“I am not!” Iris said angrily. “It’s a fact! How can facts be offensive?”
I was tempted to give her an example, but I was in a dilemma. I wanted to speak to Mrs. Cornford’s spirit, but I could hardly leave the women alone with Alum. Thankfully, Alum spied Larry. “If you’ll excuse me, ladies, I have to speak to Detective Brown. Prudence, I’ll call you later.” He tapped my arm.
Before he had taken as many as five steps, the three of them rounded on me. “So what’s going on between the two of you?” Barbara asked me.
“He’s good looking for someone his age,” Iris said.
“Is he from a good family?” Constance said. “Has he solved any major crimes? Has he been on TV? Did he go to Oxford or Cambridge, or some other prestigious university?”
“I doubt it,” I said, puzzled. “This is Australia, not England, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
Constance was not put off. “Then what about Yale? Harvard?”
“Are the two of you an item?” Barbara persisted.
“I have to speak to the spirit of Mrs. Cornford,” I said. “And I have to do it before she leaves. The three of you stay here.”
To my surprise, they did as they were told, and I slipped behind the building. I hoped no one would see me talking to myself out there, not that I was actually talking to myself, but that is certainly how it would look. I sneaked down beside the massive red geranium bushes at the back of the building, and called softly, “Mrs. Cornford? Mrs. Cornford?”
There was no sign of her at first, but I waited. Finally, I could feel her presence, although not too strongly at first. “Did you recognize the person who murdered you?” I asked her, not beating about the bush.
“No,” she said.
“Do you think the murderer wasn’t at your memorial service?”
“I don’t mean that,” she said. “I can’t remember. I do think it was someone I knew well, but I just can’t remember who it was yet.” Waves of distress emanated from her.
“I’m sure you’ll remember in time,” I told her. “It takes a while for people to transition to the spirit realm. It just takes time.” I could sense her agitation lessening somewhat.
“I have remembered something,” she said.
As usual, I didn’t actually hear her words; it was more of an impression of what she was saying, although it did come across loud and clear. “What?” I asked her.
“It was something to do with my renovations. I was murdered because of my renovations.”
Chapter 14
“Yes, I’m sure. She said she was murdered because of her renovations.”
I was speaking on the phone with Larry, sitting in my walled garden while Mary slept. Now and then, Possum and Lily ventured out, crept up to Mary, hissed at her sleeping form, and then sprinted into the house. I am sure they did it for dramatic effect.
“And that’s all she said?” Larry asked me.
I said that it was. “I asked her straight out if she knew who killed her, but she said she didn’t remember. All she could remember at this point was that it had everything to do with her renovations.”
“Is there any chance she could be confused?” Larry said.
“Well, yes, I suppose,” I said. “Newly departed spirits do get confused, but she did seem sure about this.”
Larry ended the call, after asking me to keep him informed. I said that I would. I thought it through. What could it all mean? That either one or both of her builders had killed her—perhaps she owed them money? But still, if builders killed everyone who owed
them money, there would be fewer people in the world. That made no sense. What else, then? If the builders didn’t kill her because of her renovations, then who did? Was there a body buried under the house, and the renovations would uncover it?
I decided to go back inside because the air was starting to chill. It was ever so slight, but an evening chill always descended suddenly in these parts. Mary jumped up to follow me, and then barked. Just as she did, I heard a car coming up the road.
I hurried to the front door and saw with delight it was Alum. He smiled broadly when he saw me. “Prudence, I hope you don’t mind me calling in unannounced. I didn’t get to say goodbye to you after the memorial service earlier. I thought we could eat that lemon meringue pie that we didn’t get to eat last night.” He held out the container.
“It’s great to see you,” I said, perhaps a little too enthusiastically. “Please come in.”
As soon as we sat down, I told him what Mrs. Cornford had said. “I just have to figure out the relevance, though,” I concluded.
Alum waved his finger at me. “Now, Prudence, don’t get involved in the investigation. Just report what you know to Larry, and then leave it to Larry and the other officers to do the investigating. This can be a dangerous business, as I know only too well.”
“It can’t hurt to think about the case,” I pointed out.
“Sure,” he said, “only if you don’t have a sudden revelation about the case and go rushing headlong into trouble.”
I laughed. “As if that would happen.” His expression sobered me. He had been shot, after all. “No, I won’t do anything to put myself in danger,” I added soberly.
“Well, sure, we can talk about it,” Alum said. “I’m going crazy with boredom, being on sick leave.”
“How about some coffee with the pie? You stay there and rest.” I took the pie to the kitchen, and made the coffee. Just then my eyes fell on my Aynsley teapot.
I hurried back into the room, and handed Alum his coffee and a plate of pie. “Something just occurred to me,” I said as I took my seat. “I noticed that the cups on Mrs. Cornford’s table were poor quality china. I mean, the ones she and her guest were drinking from when she died were everyday china.”