by Gen Griffin
“I know that much,” Gracie said. “He texted me pictures of the baby when she was born at four o'clock this morning. She's cute. Looks a lot like Katie.”
“She's cute. I got the same texts. Couldn't help noticing that Ian wasn't in any of those pictures,” David said. “Ten bucks says he was drunk and didn't show up at the hospital.”
“If that's the case, Katie isn't ever going to forgive him.” Gracie shook out her golden waves and sighed. “I'm sure I'll find out all the details soon enough. I told Katie that we'd visit her at the hospital after we left Grover's funeral.”
“Sounds fine to me,” Cal said. “But speaking of the funeral, we really do need to get going. The memorial service starts at nine o'clock and its already eight thirty.”
“I don't really think anyone is going to show up,” Trish said “Grover wasn't well liked.”
“True, but southerners love a good funeral. You may be surprised by how many of the folks who live down at the assisted living center didn't have anything better to do this morning other than attend Grover's funeral. Besides, it still doesn't look right for us to be late. We're pillars of the community. Everyone in town looks up to us. At least, that's what Momma used to say when she was discretely kicking the shit out of our shins every Sunday in church when we'd try to fall asleep during the service.”
Trish laughed. “I spent some time talking with your Momma last night. I can picture her kicking you during church.”
“Go to sleep during a service and you'll feel the wrath of Loretta Walker for yourself. She says none of us will ever be too old for a whupping.” Gracie smirked and rolled her eyes. “She's gotten me a few times.”
Trish giggled but then sobered. “I'll be relieved when today is over.”
“You and me both,” David said. “The only thing I hate worse than a funeral is wearing a suit. I can't wait to take this thing off.”
“Me neither.” Trish couldn't help winking at him as she spun on her heel and headed for the truck.
Chapter 45
“Crashing Grover's funeral is a horrible idea,” Kerry told Curtis as he pulled his sheriff's department cruiser up to the back door of the funeral home. He hadn't liked Curtis's plan to snatch Trish from the funeral home last night and he didn't like it any better now that they were about to put it into action.
“All you have to do is get us in.” Curtis shifted awkwardly in the massive suit he'd bought while they were in the city the previous night. Kerry
“What if someone recognizes you?”
“They won't. I'm wearing a suit. Suits blend into the crowd. No man stands out in a suit.” Curtis fanned himself with the newspaper that contained the details of Grover Shallowman's funeral arrangements on page 4A. The big man was sweating profusely in the early morning heat.
“We're making a mistake.”
“Go knock on the door,” Curtis ordered. “Get us into the building. I can take care of the rest from there.”
“I don't think I can do this.” Kerry felt sweat rolling down his own spine as he stared at the back door of the funeral home. “Too many witnesses here. Someone will realize I helped you.”
“Don't you dare try to chicken out on me, you lily-livered coward.” Curtis leaned close to Kerry's ear. “Its you or Trisha. Who do you want to live?”
“We can come up with a better plan,” Kerry said with a shudder. “We need to get out of here before someone sees us.”
The back door of the funeral home opened and a tall, skinny man in a neatly pressed but boring black suit stepped outside with a cigarette in his hand. He stopped short when he saw Kerry's cruiser.
“Time to rock and roll,” Curtis said under his breath. The big man pushed the cruiser door open and stepped out with a broad smile on his face.
Kerry had no choice but to get out of the cruiser and follow after him.
“Officer Longwood. How can we help you today?” The man in the suit was Whitt Jones, funeral director. Kerry knew him better than he would have liked to. The man had handled Kerry's parents' final arrangements.
“I um. Uh. I'm. Well.”
“Hello. My name is Jack Michelson and I'm a close friend of the Shallowman family.” Curtis looked directly into Whitt's eyes as he lied. He held out his hand to shake Whitt's. “I had some car trouble on the way here from Silver City. Fortunately Officer Longwood came to my assistance.”
“Oh. That was very nice of him. I think you'll find all of our local police force to be very accommodating and friendly.” Whitt shook Curtis's hand with a smile on his face. “We're glad you could make it.”
“I'm glad to be here. As glad as I can be under the circumstances anyhow,” Curtis said. “I was wondering if you could do me a small favor?”
“Certainly.” Whitt ran one hand through his graying, thinning hair. “We try to make our funerals as pleasant of an experience as possible for everyone involved.”
“Is there any way you could let me have a moment alone with Grover's body?” Curtis asked. “He entrusted me with a special personal item that I promised him I would place in his casket before he was buried.”
“Not a problem,” Whitt said. “Why don't you come right this way? The memorial is just about to start so the back room is still empty except for the casket and Mr. Shallowman himself. If you want to put something in the coffin, now is the perfect time to do it.”
“Thank you so much,” Curtis replied as Whitt held the door open for them to enter the funeral home.
Chapter 46
“And then I told Grover that if he shot at the mailman one more time and I didn't get my magazines, I was going to make sure that he suffered dearly the next time he had to come down to the salon. I told him I'd mix poison ivy into his shampoo.”
Trish closed her eyes and laid her head against Addison's shoulder as several people around them laughed. Granny Pearl and some of Grover's other long-term neighbors were standing in a small group near the door of the chapel. They had taken to telling the real stories about Grover which weren't suitable for retelling during the memorial service that would be beginning in less than 30 minutes. There was a certain amount of humor in the recollections, but Trish didn't have the energy to enjoy them.
“I don't know if I can do this,” she whispered.
“You missing Grover?” Addy didn't even try to hide the surprise in his voice. The two of them were sitting side-by-side on a stiff embroidered love seat in the funeral home's lobby. David and Cal had been recruited to help Loretta and Trish's mother arrange a memorial display in the front of the chapel where Grover's service was being held. Trish and Addison had been left to greet the guests who, if they showed, would likely begin arriving any minute.
“No,” Trish started to rub her eyes and then stopped herself. The last thing she needed to do right now was smear her mascara. “I mean, I feel like I should miss Grover but-.”
“He wasn't real likable,” Addy filled in.
“He was a miserable old coot,” Trish agreed. “But I need to pretend that I'm really going to miss him for the next couple of hours or all of his friends are going to think I'm a horrible human being.”
“He didn't have any friends.” Addy draped his arm around Trish's shoulders. “Trust me. Most of the folks who are going to show up today are just here because Southerners like funerals. Gives the old ladies at the senior center an excuse to put on their best dresses and eat three times the calories that their doctors have told them they should be consuming.”
“You're bad. What am I supposed to say to these people when they show up? ” Trish was struck by a familiar feeling of shyness mixed with a healthy dose of awkwardness. “I didn't grow up in Possum Creek. I don't know any of these people. They'll probably all know who I am, but I'm not going to have a clue who they are or what I'm supposed to say to them.”
“They're not so bad. Watch closely and learn. Granny Pearl raised me right.” Addison winked and stood up as a small group of gray-haired old ladies pushed through the doub
le doors. He plastered a welcoming smile on his handsome face. “Mary Sue. Elise. Edna. Good to see you ladies could make it. Y'all are looking beautiful today.”
The three women giggled and blushed like school girls as Addison continued to lay on the charm, introducing Trish almost as an afterthought. The women barely had time to express their sympathy before Addy had them moving along into the main chapel and was greeting an elderly couple who had just walked in.
Addison's southern gentleman act was a wonder to behold. Trish stood by his side in awe as he complimented, flirted and yes ma'am, no ma'am-ed his way through the steady stream of arriving guests. His courteous, complimentary act was a sight to behold in and of itself. His flawless charm made Trish feel awkward and slow in comparison as she mechanically thanked total strangers for coming to pay their respects to her grandfather. Most of the strangers chose to hug her. Half of the mourners seemed more interested in her relationship with David than they did in Grover's death.
“Trisssshhhhaaa!” A familiar voice broke the monotony of 'sorry for your loss' and 'let us know if you need anything's.
Trish's heart sunk in her chest as she looked past a kinky-curled granny to see Nellie walking towards her in six-inch tall stiletto heels and a slinky black dress that was so short Trish wondered if it was actually supposed to be worn as a shirt.
Addison glanced towards Nellie and did a double take. Trish sighed as Nellie closed the distance between herself and Trish in three sexy steps and then flung herself around Trish's neck.
“I've missed you!” Nellie exclaimed.
The hug felt suffocating and awkward. Trish made no effort to return it. Nellie pulled away after a minute. “I love your shoes.”
Trish glanced down at the simple, classy wedge sandals with their fake wicker straps. Gracie had picked the shoes. And the matching toenail polish she was wearing. “Thanks. You really shouldn't have come.”
“I wanted to be here for you.” Nellie grinned at Trish. Her wide brown eyes were guileless and decorated with elaborate swirls of brown and green eye shadow. Only Nellie would wear fake eyelashes to a funeral. “I know how hard your grandpa's death must be for you, especially since you and Curtis have been having problems. ”
Trish gritted her teeth and tried to think of a polite way to tell Nellie to go to hell.
“I'm sorry, I don't think we've met?” Addison saved Trish from having to say anything at all. She watched with a sinking sense of dread as Nellie took in his broad shoulders, square jaw and turquoise blue eyes.
“I'm Trish's sister. My name is Elanor but most people call me Nellie. You are?” Nellie batted her fake eyelashes up at Addy. Her dress left very little of her B-cups to the imagination as she tugged the hemline down to further expose herself.
“Addison Malone.” Addy held out his hand to shake hers. He was still smiling but there was a wariness in his smile that hadn't been there when he was flirting with the ladies from the senior center.
“I don't shake hands with beautiful men. I'm a hugger.” Nellie wrapped her arms around his neck and giving him an air kiss on both cheeks.
“Nice to meet you.” Addison smiled at her but even he seemed a little bit taken aback by a girl who would wear a micro-mini dress to a funeral.
“The pleasure is all mine,” Nellie replied with a sultry smile. “Maybe we can get to know one another better after the funeral?”
“I don't think so,” Trish cut into their conversation. “Nellie, you shouldn't be here. Its not appropriate. You never even met Grover.”
“I'm not here for Grover.” Nellie reluctantly turned her attention away from Addison. She smiled at Trish. “I'm here in case you need comfort or support.”
“You're the last person on the planet who I would turn to for comfort or support.” Trish smoothed the hem of her dress and resisted the urge to slap her step-sister across the face. She wasn't about to fall for Nellie's innocent act. She'd fallen for it too many times before and learned her lessons the hard way.
“Oh please, Trish. Are you never going to forgive me?” Nellie raised her voice just enough that several people turned in their direction. “I'm sorry about upsetting you. I never meant to ruin our relationship. You're my sister and I love you. I'm just trying to be here for you when you need me. Please, don't ask me to go.”
“Give me one good reason to let you stay.” Trish held up one of her fingers.
Nellie cast a sideways glance at Addison and then to the group of old people who had just walked through the front door and were heading towards them.
“Can we talk somewhere more private?” She asked.
“Like where?” Trish asked. “We're in a funeral home, Nellie. The memorial will be starting any minute.”
“Let's go to the bathroom. I have to pee and we should be able to get a little bit of privacy in there.” Nellie held out one hand to Trish. “Please. Come with me to the bathroom?”
“If you have to pee, there's a really nice bathroom at the gas station up the road,” Trish said. “Why don't you get back in your car and head on up there. When you're done peeing, you can get on the interstate and go back to Brooksville.”
Nellie blinked at her, looking genuinely taken aback. “Trish, please. We need to talk. It will only take a minute. Promise. Give me two minutes of your time.”
Trish sighed. “If I go to the bathroom with you, will you leave immediately after the funeral?”
“If you still want me to go after we talk, I'll go.” Nellie smiled hopefully at Trish. “Come on, sis. At least hear my apology.”
“Fine,” Trish decided it was more effort to argue with Nellie than it was to go along with her. She turned to Addison. “Do you mind staying here and greeting any last minute arrivals?”
“I'll do whatever you need me to.” Addy eyed Nellie for a moment longer. “If y'all are going to go to the little girls room, you need to go ahead and do it. The service will be starting any minute. I'd hate for you to miss my speech about how growing up around Grover changed my life and taught me so many valuable lessons.”
“Oh god. Everyone is going to know you're lying.” Trish hesitated briefly as Nellie tugged on her hand.
“Its a funeral service, not a courtroom. Lying is permitted.” Addy gave her a one-handed wave. “Hurry back. You don't want to be late for my performance. I'm going to get an Oscar for this.”
“I wouldn't miss it,” Trish told him as she let Nellie drag her off towards the back of the funeral home.
Chapter 47
“Help me get him out of the coffin,” Curtis told Kerry.
“What?” Kerry looked down at Grover's cold, waxy corpse. “No way. I'm not touching him.”
“We need to get him out of the casket.” Curtis flipped both halves of the coffin lid up into the air.
“Why?” Kerry demanded.
“Do you want to walk away from this mess or not?” Curtis asked.
“Why would you even ask that question?” Kerry put both his hands on his hips. “My whole life is on the line here. If I get caught helping you, my career is over. My life is over.”
“Help me get him out of the casket,” Curtis pointed down to Grover. “I promise it will be worth it. Trust me. I already told you that I have a plan. You're going to walk away clean. No one will ever find out you were a dirty cop.”
Kerry closed his eyes, gritted his teeth and grabbed hold of Grover's stiff shoulders. It took every ounce of strength he had to roll the old man out of the silk lined coffin. The old man wasn't heavy but his body was awkward to carry. Kerry dropped his end of the corpse twice before he successfully managed to set him down on the ground underneath the covered rolling cart the coffin was sitting on top of.
“Get his feet under the skirt,” Curtis ordered.
Kerry stared down at the old man loafers that were poking out from under the cloth that covered the table. “He won't bend.”
“Slide him forward.”
Kerry grabbed Grover's body by the head and tugged
him as hard as he could by the ears. After several yanks, the old man moved far enough forward that his feet were tucked under the table skirt.
“Holy hell.” Kerry was panting hard as he stood up. “We did it. He's hidden under the table. Now what?”
Curtis smiled at Kerry as he raised one big fist. “Now you get in the coffin,” he said as one of his huge hands smashed down into Kerry's skull.
Kerry's world exploded in pain and his vision swam. Curtis hit him again and Kerry fell down onto his knees. Curtis struck him a third time and Kerry landed on the floor. The last thing he would remember was staring up from the carpeting and seeing Grover's glazed dead eyes staring back down at him.
Chapter 48
“Tell me he's single,” Nellie said the minute the bathroom door had closed behind them.
“What?” Trish glared at her step-sister. Up close, Nellie's short, slinky black dress was covered in a dizzying pattern that mixed skulls with hearts and the occasional sequin. Her designer heels were six-inch tall spiked stilettos with cherry red soles.
“The guy who was helping you welcome everyone to the memorial service. He's beautiful. Tell me he's single?”
“It doesn't matter if he's single or not. You're not staying in Possum Creek.” Trish used a splash of water from the sink and used the dampness to smooth down a few stray flyaways as she checked her reflection in the mirror. The green and white dress that Gracie had picked out for her was cute, functional and didn't interfere with her cast. It looked like a nun's habit compared with Nellie's dress.
“Trish, I miss being sisters.” Nellie hopped up on the bathroom counter and stretched out her of her long caramel colored legs. She had tattooed a giant purple orchid on her thigh recently. The skin surrounding the new tattoo was still slightly reddened. “I want to be in your life. I want to know your friends. It feels so weird to walk into a room and see you with some guy and not even know his name. We used to tell each other everything.”