Murder is on the Clock

by Fran Rizer

  I could hardly believe I’d be seeing my brother Jim after over twenty-five years. That seemed hard to believe, but when Jim graduated from high school and left to join the military, he didn’t come back. Sometimes he sent letters and he never forgot to send me a birthday card no matter where he was deployed, but he didn’t come home to visit, and he hardly ever called. Two years younger than John and ten years older than I, Jim was now in his forties.

  Jane and I sat down in the waiting area of the airport within sight of where passengers would come when they arrived. I listened for the announcement that his airplane had landed and heard about several others, but not Jim’s flight. Jane and I laughed when our cell phones sounded simultaneously. I knew who her caller was because she immediately shut it off. Mine was Bill.

  “Callie? Molly won’t even talk to me. What should I do?”

  My stomach lurched into my chest. I’d expected that.

  “I really don’t know,” I told him. “I guess just ask her nicely to talk and don’t argue with her.”

  When Jim’s plane was announced, Jane and I walked to the gate where he would come from the passengerrestricted area. I would have known who Jim was if I’d never seen him. He was a slightly slimmer version of my four other brothers with Daddy’s Parrish jaw and nose. His brown hair had darkened like my other brothers’ after being a cotton-top in youth.

  I saw Jim come through the gate in the middle of a crowd of travelers. The minute he saw me, he dropped his carry-on and ran toward me. A younger man behind him picked up the bag and followed at a slower, more leisurely pace.

  “Callie!” Jim cried, and the tone and pitch of his voice sounded similar to Daddy and our brothers, but Jim’s extra southern drawl with its twinges of Charlestonian was gone. Jim grabbed me off my feet and twirled around holding me close and kissing my cheek. When he finally put me down, he said, “I can’t believe it. I really can’t believe it.”

  I should have said something pleasant. I should have welcomed him. I should have, but I didn’t. As a little girl, I’d been very close to Jim and I’d been heartbroken that he moved away when I was eight years old. I remembered Jim threatening not to call again if I kept grumbling and crying every time I was on the phone with him. My tone reverted to that whiny little girl voice now, and I said, “Why didn’t you come home before now?”

  Jim’s mouth spread in a big grin showing bright white teeth that were perfectly aligned, probably the result of adult braces. “Because my father wasn’t getting married before and because I had no idea how my baby sister looked.”

  He was my brother! What was the meaning of that comment about my appearance?

  I finally said something less combative. “I’ve missed you.”

  “And I missed watching you grow up and knowing what you look like. I was only ten years old when you were born and she died, but I guess lots of people have told you how much you look like Mom. I hate I’ve been gone, but I’m here now. And who’s this young lady?” He motioned toward Jane.

  “One of my best friends—Jane Baker,” I said. Jane held her hand out toward Jim, but he didn’t shake it. He grabbed her in a big hug and kissed her on the cheek, too.

  The young man who had picked up Jim’s bag handed it to him and then just stood there. “Let’s grab the rest of the luggage and head home,” Jim said and turned to me. “I understand the wedding rehearsal is tonight. Will all of my brothers be there?”

  “So far as I know,” I said, thinking unless Molly kills Bill before we get home.

  In the baggage area, Jim and the young man each grabbed an expensive piece of luggage. “You can wait by the door,” I said. “We’ll pick you up in a few minutes.”

  “We’ll be riding in a hearse,” Jane said.

  “In what?” were the first words we heard from the younger man.

  “Callie’s driving a hearse,” Jane said.

  “I guess we’ll know it’s you when you pull up.” Jim said and grinned.

  When Jane and I drove up to the door of the baggage area, Jim and the younger man climbed in the back seat without a single glance behind them. I didn’t think they would have noticed if we’d still had a body back there. Jim was on a nonstop monologue about how much I looked like “Mom,” whom I’d never called anything except “our mother,” and even then, I hadn’t spoken of her often because I’d never known her.

  We were past the Charleston suburbs when Jane turned slightly in her seat toward where the men sat.

  “Jim, I don’t believe you’ve introduced us to your friend,” she said.

  “Sorry. I just got so excited about seeing how much Callie looks like Mom that I forgot all my manners,” Jim replied. “This is Eric. He’s my partner.”

  5:00 P.M.

  I looked at the clock, it was half past five I was so surprised, I could hardly drive

  The only thing I could think of to say was, “Hello, Eric. I’m Callie and this is Jane.“ “Glad to meet you,” Eric answered. “Don’t let James’ forgetfulness hurt your feelings. He’s been all jacked up about this trip ever since your father sent the invitation. At first, he had a hard time accepting that someone will replace his mother, but then he got so excited about seeing his family that he’s been chomping at the bit to get here.”

  “He could have come anytime he wanted in all those years,” I said.

  “I’ve tried to persuade him to make this trip since we first got together, but I’m just so pleased to meet you now and I look forward to seeing everyone tonight.

  Your father said we could stay at his house, but I’ve made reservations at the Sleep Easy Motel. I wanted to rent a car, but Mr. Parrish insisted we won’t need one. Said you or one of the brothers will be glad to drive us.”

  “No problem,” I said, thinking, My daddy has taken years to get past all his old redneck ways and stop telling those obnoxious sexist jokes. He stopped using the n-word completely after he got to know Rizzie, and he claims he’s not prejudiced against anybody for anything anymore. I really don’t think sweet Miss Ellen would ever have fallen for the person Daddy was before. I just hope he doesn’t show himself when he finds out Jim is gay. That could run Miss Ellen off. As for me, I’ve never considered anyone’s sexuality my business if I weren’t sleeping with ‘em.

  “Where do y’all live?” Jane asked Eric. I could tell she was a little nervous because Jane had made a concentrated effort to get ya’ll out of her vocabulary and lost a lot of her Southern accent. She claimed she didn’t want callers to be able to identify what part of the country Roxanne lived in by her vocabulary and accent.

  “James and I have been together since two years before he retired from the military,” Eric answered. “We’ve lived wherever he was stationed except when he was deployed to parts of the world that were fighting or where being gay would be illegal or dangerous.” He laughed. No, it was more like a masculine giggle. “He never let me go anywhere he thought our lifestyle would endanger me.”

  “I meant where do you live now,” Jane said.

  “New York.”

  “That’s not so far away,” I said. I couldn’t keep the criticism out of my voice. I’d missed Jim horribly when he first left home. As an adult, I’ve tried to live without giving or taking guilt trips, but as a child, I’d wondered if I’d done something to make my favorite brother leave. John had started taking a little more time with me, and I’d felt guilty that he’d taken Jim’s place as my favorite. When I grew older, I’d told myself Jim couldn’t come home because he was fighting for our country, but as an adult, I realized that military people get leaves. If he’d wanted to see us, he would have found a way to make it happen.

  I literally shook my head, trying to shake these unpleasant thoughts out of my mind.

  “Are you okay?” Jim asked.

  “I just have a mild headache,” I lied and changed the subject. “I guess living in New York is quite a change from growing up in little po-dunk St. Mary,” I said. I’d tried, but I realized even that sound
ed negative.

  “Oh, I’d love to live in a small town like St. Mary,” Jim said, “but even now, couples like Eric and me fit in better in bigger cities. Besides, Eric is a performer, and . . . ”

  My mind shot off in an unwanted direction and I thought, What kind of performer? Is he a performer like Jane is a fantasy actress?

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t hear the last part of what you said,” I apologized.

  “He said,” Jane answered for Jim, “that Eric performs as an extra in theater, and has been in some Broadway shows.”

  “Yes,” Jim said. “He gave up his dreams for several years while I finished my last tour of duty, so we settled where he can do what he likes best.”

  “You mean, the second thing I like best,” Eric said.

  Once more, my mind shot off in a blue direction, but Jim quickly added, “Eric says he would live anywhere with me because what he likes more than Broadway is James Parrish, but I enjoy New York, too. I have no aspirations to appear in the theater or create great art, but I love the variety of entertainment there and the diversity of people I meet.”

  “What about you, Callie?” Eric asked. “Is driving a hearse just your way of asserting your individuality or can I assume you work for a funeral home?”

  “I’m a cosmetician for Middleton’s Mortuary.” I answered.

  “Cosmetician? Callie, don’t you mean cosmetologist?” Jim asked.

  “Nope, the correct word for a cosmetologist at a mortuary is cosmetician,” I said and grinned. “Hang around me and you’ll be speaking Funeraleze before you know it.”

  “Is that what you always wanted to do?” Eric asked and then continued before I had a chance to answer. “I’m really interested in how people wind up in their jobs, so many of them are almost accidental.”

  “Kind of like that with me,” I said. “I earned a college degree in primary education, got married, got divorced, quit teaching and returned to St. Mary. I worked for a few weeks at a beauty parlor and couldn’t stand it. Middleton’s hired me and I’ve been there several years.”

  “Middleton’s Mortuary,” Jim said. “That’s the funeral home that handled Mom’s funeral. Do you go there often?”

  “Jim, you must be too tired to think,” I scolded. “If I work there, I go there.” “Same old Callie,” Jim commented. “My question isn’t so ridiculous. You could be a sales rep.”

  “A door-to-door casket sales person?” I asked.

  I admit my tone was snarky. To me, his question had sounded silly.

  “How should I know? Maybe you’re a telemarketer selling pre-paid funerals.”

  That struck Jane as funny. “Then we would both earn our living on the telephone,” she said through her laughter.

  “At least five days out of every seven, I’m at Middleton’s. I’m a full-time employee.” My tone returned to normal. I found it hard to believe Jim and I were picking at each other just like I do with my other brothers.

  “The Middleton twins were older than me, but I remember them,” Jim said. “Some of the kids my age were scared of them because they lived in a mortuary.”

  “They didn’t live in the funeral home. The family lived above it on the second floor of the house.” I felt compelled to correct him.

  “Do they live there now?”

  “No, the casket display room is up there. Were the twins identical then, when you knew them?” I asked.

  “What do you mean—then? If they’re both still living, they’re still twins,” Jim said.

  “But they aren’t identical anymore,” I answered.

  “What do you mean?” Eric interjected.

  “You’ll see. Odell will be at the rehearsal dinner tonight, and if Otis is back, you’ll see him at the wedding tomorrow.”

  “Come on, tell us how they’re different,” Eric said with his hands uplifted, pretending to plead.

  “Don’t waste your time,” Jim said. “Callie is the most stubborn person you’ll ever meet. If she doesn’t want to tell you, she won’t. We’ll just have to wait.” He leaned forward and tapped Jane on the shoulder. “What about you, Jane? Do you work?”

  Jane exploded. “What’s that supposed to mean? Do you think because I’m blind that the government pays my bills?”

  “Pardonnez moi,” Jim said with an exaggerated French accent. “Didn’t mean to offend you, mademoiselle. So far as I know, you might be the wife of some rich man who allows you to live in luxury without lifting a finger, but you said you work with phones. Are you a telemarketer?”

  “If I didn’t love you so much, James, I’d settle for that first option myself,” Eric said.

  “Jane was engaged to Frankie,” I said. “How much do you know about your brothers, Jim? Frankie is goodlooking and fun and sometimes he’s thoughtful, but a hard worker he is not.”

  “What happened? Why aren’t we going to a double wedding?” Jim asked.

  “Because,” said Jane, “your baby brother won’t get a job that he keeps more than a few weeks and he doesn’t want me working.” Her lips trembled, and she broke into sobs.

  Immediately, Eric loosened his seat belt, leaned over the back of Jane’s seat, and began patting her shoulder. “Now, now,” he crooned, “things will work out.”

  “I don’t think she’s upset about Frankie, but about her job,” I said.

  “What does she do?” Jim asked.

  The volume of Jane’s crying moved up several decibels.

  “Can I tell them?” I asked Jane.

  She nodded yes and said, “Go ahead. From what I’m gathering, neither of them ever speaks with Roxanne.” I had to laugh. After the day we’d had, that was funny.

  “Jane is a fantasy actress who works under the pseudonym Roxanne,” I said.

  “On stage?” Eric asked with keen interest.

  “On the telephone,” I said.

  “I don’t understand,” Eric said.

  “I do,” Jim responded. “I talked to a few of those in my teenaged years when I was in denial about myself.”

  “What do you mean?” Eric asked with enough sincerity that I couldn’t tell if he were really confused or putting us on.

  Jane stopped crying and laughed.

  “I’m a phone sex operator. Callie goes to work and makes her clients look good. I stay home and make my clients feel good.”

  Apparently, Jane had caught these two sophisticated New Yorkers off guard. Neither of them said anything.

  “Now I have a problem,” Jane continued after a long pause. “Roxanne works on a secured landline phone, and I’ve always felt confident that no one who knew me as Roxanne on the 900 line would find out who I really am. Today, a creepy man called on my cell phone and told me he knows who I am and where I live.” The blubbering started again.

  “We’re afraid that the man was threatening her,” I said.

  “But if he’s talked with her as Roxanne, he wouldn’t want to hurt her,” Eric said. “Maybe he just wants a date.”

  “I’m a phone fantasy actress, not a hooker!” Jane protested.

  I couldn’t help it. So far the day had been crazy and knowing my family, it could get even more bizarre before it ended. I thought it. I said it.

  “But, Jane, you really are a call girl.”

  Jane socked me on the right arm and almost made me jerk the steering wheel, but she laughed, too.

  “Maybe the caller is in love with you,” Eric said.

  “He might think he’s in love with Roxanne, but not me. He doesn’t know me,” Jane said.

  “He thinks he knows you if he called you on your cell phone,” Jim said. “I agree that this could be serious. In the old days, they’d begin tracing your calls. Nowadays, with caller ID, it should be fairly easy to find out who the caller is.”

  “I told the sheriff about it, and he checked my caller ID. It showed ‘unknown number’ but he wants me to record my calls.”

  “Can you do that?” Eric asked.

  “Yes, I have the most sophisticated
cell phone on the market. I can record calls, and a voice reads my text messages to me.”

  “Suri?” Jim asked.

  “No, a voice a lot like Sam Elliott’s,” I said. “Jane thinks Sam Elliott has the sexiest voice ever.”

  As we approached St. Mary on roads lined with the old oak trees draped with Spanish moss so common to our area, Jim asked, “Don’t we pass Crossroads Church Cemetery on the way home?”

  “Yes,” I answered.

  “Can you stop there? I’d like to visit Mom’s grave for a few minutes. I’ll come back later and bring flowers.” I heard a catch in his voice.

  “We’re not going to the house. We’re going straight to the church for the rehearsal,” I told him. “The whole family will be there, and you can meet the bride.”

  “We’re going to the church in this hearse?” Jane asked with both surprise and disapproval.

  “Odell will call me if he needs the funeral coach and bring me the family car when he takes it.”

  “How about stopping?” Jim asked. “I’d really like to visit Mom before meeting that woman Pa’s marrying.”

  “She’s not that woman. Her name is Miss Ellen, and she’s a good lady who makes Daddy happy.” I couldn’t help myself. I added, “You found someone who makes you happy. It’s Daddy’s turn.”

  Eric laughed.

  “What’s funny?” I asked.

  “James always told me you were feisty. Is your father being married at the church where your mother is buried?” he asked.

  “No, the wedding is at Miss Ellen’s church, which is Christ Lutheran.”

  “We used to go to Crossroads when I was little,” Jim said. “Every Sunday, Mom dressed ‘The Boys,’ as she called us, in Sunday School clothes and took us to church.”

  I was so shocked to hear that my mother’s name for her five sons was the same as mine that I couldn’t say anything. I’d worked a funeral at Crossroads, but I had no memory of ever going to church there. On the rare occasions that Daddy took us to church, we went to Beulah Baptist in St. Mary.

  “Is your father getting married at the same church where your mother is buried?” Eric asked. “I don’t guess there is anything wrong with it, but that would seem kind of strange to me.”