Putting the Fun in Funeral

by Diana Pharaoh Francis

  Kevin showed up just before ten. He was my store manager. He wore a green sweater vest and a bow tie. He squeezed in and slammed the front door. “What in the name of Jesus is going on out there?” he asked. “Are we giving away free condoms today or something?”

  “My mother died,” I said baldly. “Murdered.”

  He stutter-stepped and looked at me. When it was obvious I wasn’t kidding, he looked up. “There is a God.” Then back at me. “Congratulations.” With that, he jigged to his office, singing “Ding Dong the Witch Is Dead” off key.

  Val watched him go. “He took the news well.”

  I grinned. “Almost as well as I did.”

  “Jen’s been turning cartwheels. Literally. She also keeps giggling. My sister does not giggle.”

  “Some things just have to be celebrated.”

  “Amen to that. Thanks for giving me the scoop. And congratulations.”

  I ushered her out and then started going over my day. Unfortunately, thanks to my mother, my schedule was shot to hell. The day got worse when less than a half hour later, Detective Ballard showed up again, this time with her partner.

  I rolled my eyes as she entered the store first, the door chiming softly. The place was swarming with customers. Kevin had chased out the reporters who tried to horn their way in. They could buy or they could leave, was his motto.

  My employees had really stepped up. Angie was manning the register, and Kevin was helping customers. Monica and Dean were on their way in, along with Randy and George. The store needed all the extra coverage it could get today, what with the flood of rubberneckers.

  I had retreated to Kevin’s office to call my mother’s house. Specifically, I’d called Deirdre, the housekeeper, to make sure everything was OK and that the animals were getting cared for. She didn’t offer me condolences, and I didn’t pretend I needed any. Her voice was crisp.

  “The mistress was found on the back patio,” she said without waiting for me to ask. “The police have been here since early yesterday, and I don’t know when they’ll wrap up.”

  “You’re feeding them?” I asked, already knowing she was.

  “Certainly,” she said, sounding insulted.

  “Then they’ll take as long as humanly possible. Your food is legendary. If you need me for anything, let me know,” I said. “I wish I could tell you what’s going to happen with her estate, but I have no idea.”

  The employees were likely going to get sacked, including Deirdre. That was the only thing that sucked about my mother’s death. I knew I wasn’t going to inherit a damned thing, which was more than fine by me, but I hated that everybody on the estate would likely lose their jobs.

  “We will be fine, Miss Rebecca,” Deirdre said.

  “All the same, you know how to reach me. Any references you need, you can count on me.”

  I hung up and went to the doorway of Kevin’s office, watching as Detective Ballard and her partner wound their way through the maze of people and displays to me. I was aware of Ballard’s partner’s slow up-and-down scrutiny. His gaze lingered on my legs, which my dress and heels showed off to perfection. They are almost my best feature, according to the girl squad, second only to my ass.

  I didn’t greet either one of them as they stopped in front of me. I just waited with that distantly bored look that used to piss my mother off to no end. It clearly grated on Detective Ballard, whose lips thinned. She looked like she’d eaten a raw onion.

  “Miss Wyatt,” her partner said, offering his hand. “I’m Detective Jeffers.”

  I gave him a limp-fish handshake.

  “I believe you know my partner,” he said, letting go and motioning toward his dark-skinned companion. She still looked awful, like sleep was a wish and never a reality. She nodded at me.

  “I wonder if you might have somewhere private we could talk.”

  “I do,” I said and didn’t move.

  He frowned. The man wasn’t bad looking. Sort of in the bad boy handsome-pretty club, with a crooked nose and a cleft chin. I hated cleft chins. His eyes were a mossy brown, and his hair looked due for a cut. He was broad shouldered and lean waisted, like he took physical fitness seriously, unlike the doughnut-glutton cops of legend.

  “We’d like to ask you a few more questions,” Detective Jeffers prompted me.

  “You mean questions about my relationship with my mother and whether I might want to kill her?”

  Jeffers cut a sharp look at Ballard, who didn’t look the slightest bit cowed. OK, I had to admit I was impressed by that. The woman owned her shit.

  “I’m sure Detective Ballard didn’t intend to make any accusations.”

  “Sure she did. Didn’t you?”

  Ballard shrugged unrepentantly. “We haven’t ruled you out. You could take a polygraph test.”

  “I could also tell you to fuck off again.”

  Ballard’s mouth tightened and I couldn’t tell if she was trying to stop a smile or a grimace.

  “We’d appreciate your cooperation,” Jeffers said smoothly. “The faster we find your mother’s killer, the sooner this zoo is over.” He waved at the reporters clustered outside.

  He’d found my weak spot. I sighed. “This way.”

  Kevin’s office was a fishbowl. I led the detectives back into the warehouse to my office. I made a pot of coffee and poured a round for each of us before parking behind my desk.

  “Miss Wyatt—” Jeffers began. I cut him off.

  “Fair warning. I am not particularly patient, so better ask questions I haven’t already answered.” I looked at Ballard. “Go ahead.”

  Her brows rose. Jeffers glared at my dismissal, and I ignored him. He’d probably expected to charm me. He had that aura around him, like he thought he was God’s gift. I bet his invitations to bed didn’t get a lot of refusals. I liked Ballard better.

  She flipped open her notebook and jumped back in where she’d left off yesterday. “Was your mother seeing anyone romantically?”

  “I don’t know.”

  A sharp look. “Any previous boyfriends or lovers who might be holding a grudge?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “What about friends?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Ballard dropped her notebook into her lap and gave me a disgusted look. “I thought you were ready to cooperate.”

  “I am cooperating. I’m answering your questions, aren’t I?”

  “I don’t know is not an answer.”

  “Of course it is. It’s just not the answer you want.”

  “Miss Wyatt—may I call you Rebecca? Surely you know more about your mother’s life than you’ve told us,” Jeffers inserted smoothly.

  I leveled an impatient look at him. “Surely I don’t. And no, you may not call me Rebecca. It’s Beck. I hate Rebecca.”

  “Let me guess: your mother called you Rebecca,” Ballard said dryly.

  Nail on the head. “Do you have more questions?”

  The other woman sighed. “How about you tell us what you do know.”

  “My mother was a very successful real estate agent, and she was stupid wealthy. She never talked about family, and I never met any. She saw a lot of people socially and threw a lot of parties, but I couldn’t say if she had any actual friends. I doubt it, but then she was a different person with me than with other people. As far as I could tell, she was frigid, cruel, impatient, and she enjoyed watching people suffer, especially me. You should talk to her housekeeper, Deirdre. She’d know more.”

  Ballard was writing notes, nodding. “We already have.” She looked at me. “The housekeeper tells us you were a regular visitor. Seems odd since you disliked her so much.”

  “I didn’t dislike her. I despised her. And yes, I went to see her once a week, sometimes more often.”

  “Why?”

  “She didn’t give me a lot of choice.”

  “How so?” Jeffers asked, leaning forward like I was going to offer some great revelation.

  “She th
reatened to have me blackballed and put me out of business.”

  Ballard’s brows rose. “Could she do that?”

  “Yep.”

  Both of them looked disbelieving, and I didn’t bother to explain. I could tell them that my mother had made of point of referring clients to me so that I grew dependent on the same clientele. I couldn’t tell them that she had dirt on just about everybody in town and that they’d do what she wanted to keep their secrets from getting out. If that meant blackballing me, that was a small enough price to pay. The ones she didn’t have dirt on, she didn’t mind finding other ways to get at them.

  Jeffers started to take a breath, and I shook my head. “Move on.”

  Ballard jumped in. “What about enemies?”

  “Everybody. Anybody. Except maybe the staff. She paid them enough to buy their loyalty. There’s not a lot of turnover in her household.”

  Ballard scribbled notes.

  “The estate is unusual,” Jeffers said.

  “Is it?” I wasn’t commenting. A lot of what was on the grounds was devoted to making me suffer.

  “The rock climbing wall was unexpected,” he said.

  I couldn’t figure out what he wanted me to say. I sure as hell wasn’t going to tell him how the wall had actually been used. I glanced at the clock. “I’ve got a busy day. Is there anything else?”

  Ballard exchanged an “I told you so” look with her partner.

  “You haven’t asked how your mother died,” she said.

  “You said she was murdered.”

  “Usually the families of victims want to know details.”

  I shrugged. “I’m just happy she’s dead. I trust you wouldn’t lie about that. But if her death was hideously embarrassing, that would make my day. Was it? Was bondage involved? A sex swing maybe?”

  Jeffers gave a choked cough. “You do realize that statements like that make us wonder about your possible involvement.”

  “And gee, I thought honesty was the best policy. If you want to investigate me, go right ahead. You’re barking up the wrong tree, but it’s your time to waste. My time is valuable, however, and I’ve given you all I intend to.” I reached into a drawer for a stack of folders on the upcoming estate sales.

  “What about the beneficiaries of her estate?” Ballard asked.

  “Not me. That’s all I know.”

  “Do you know who her attorney was?”

  “For all I know, she was repped by Judge Judy.”

  It made me ridiculously happy to see Jeffers rub his forehead like he was getting a headache. Or a tumor. So much for his confidence in handling me.

  “Would you be willing to take us on a tour through the house? Tell us if anything is missing or where your mother might have stored her papers and valuables?”

  “Ask Deirdre.”

  “We’d prefer you.”

  “Too bad.” I stood. “It’s not been a pleasure, and I have to say I hope whoever killed my mother gets away with it. Public service.” I pointed to the doorway. “Don’t let the door hit you in the ass on the way out.”

  Ballard and Jeffers both stood and set cards on my desk. I could swear Ballard smiled. Maybe because Jeffers looked so irritated. He definitely wasn’t used to getting kicked to the curb.

  “We’ll be in touch,” Jeffers said. “Call if you think of anything that might be helpful.”

  “Sure,” I said and swept the cards into the trash as soon as they walked out the door.

  Chapter 4

  Details of my mother’s murder got into the paper the next day. She’d not been dressed in bondage gear, but it was decently embarrassing. The main house had a series of big, ugly gargoyles around the roof. Apparently one had been in need of repair, as well as the stonework where it perched. The creature had been left on a scaffolding to return it to its spot on the roof. My mother had been on the patio beneath when the scaffolding gave way and the stone beast had fallen on her, stabbing her with its huge penis and crushing her under its weight. Don’t ask me why my mother had gargoyles with giant penises guarding her house. The paper called it a stone protrusion, but I knew the truth. According to the article, the scaffolding had been tampered with, making her death a murder. No wonder the detectives hadn’t wanted to tell me. I’d never have stopped laughing.

  I’d barely picked myself up off the floor when my cell rang. Jen.

  “Oh my God! Can you believe it? Crushed by a gargoyle and impaled on its penis? Could it be any more perfect? Didn’t she know about safe sex?” She broke into laughter, sobbing with delight. I followed suit. Pretty soon I was back on the floor, holding my ribs and doing that silent laugh thing when you’re out of breath and can’t stop.

  After a few minutes, I managed to collect myself. “Do me a favor and call Lorraine and Stacey. I’ve got a meeting in forty-five minutes.”

  “Of course. But we’re having dinner tonight to celebrate. You cook. We’ll bring all the fun.”

  I agreed and hung up then went to get dressed. I’d been up since five, going for my usual two-hour morning run. Even knowing mother was dead, I felt the need to speed faster with every step. I’d run sixteen miles practically at a sprint until I finally made myself stop. Finally made myself remember that I didn’t need to run out of fear anymore. Maybe I could start running because I liked it. Maybe I could stop doing it altogether.

  I put on a gray skirt and a soft green sweater with short sleeves. I picked out a matching pair of heels and added earrings and a necklace. I examined myself in the mirror and then flipped myself off in the mirror before collecting my purse and tote.

  I didn’t mind the clothes, but they weren’t my style. I looked like the society types I tended to do business with. I looked like my mother. The uniform of the job. I preferred to dress for comfort.

  I reached my appointment exactly at ten. I entered the lobby of the Marcross Hotel and crossed to its exclusive restaurant, The Bronze Raven. Garrett Hornsby the Fifth rose as I came in.

  “I’m so very sorry to hear about your mother,” he said, kissing my outstretched hand. He was old-school manners.

  Not that he was particularly old. I guessed early thirties with a spare build and a finely chiseled face. His dark hair was combed low over his forehead and across his eyes. His designer suit was black, with a crisp white shirt and a tie that matched my emerald green sweater. He was handsome in a reserved sort of way. He didn’t wind my clock, but I bet he didn’t have any trouble getting laid. No trouble at all.

  I sat, setting my tote and purse beside him. “Don’t be sorry,” I said. “I’m not.”

  His brows rose, his dark eyes curious. “You have never spoken of her to me.”

  “And I don’t mean to start today.”

  The waiter approached. “My usual, Andre,” I said with a smile.

  “Of course, Miss Wyatt. And you, Master Hornsby?” Andre had lived in the U.S. for years but still sported an English accent and some of the language foibles.

  “The same.” He glanced at me. “Better bring plenty of extra bacon. I’m not sharing this morning.”

  I stuck my tongue out at him and then shrugged. Bacon deserved its own level on the bottom of the food pyramid, if you asked me. Andre retreated after delivering coffee and orange juice.

  “You’d think that you’d order extra bacon instead of stealing mine every time,” Garrett said, stirring cream into his coffee.

  “But when I’m ordering, I don’t intend to steal. It’s only when it arrives and smells so divine that I lose my self-control. My breakfast does come with bacon. It’s not like I’m lying in wait for yours.”

  “And yet every time, yours is not enough. There should be a lesson there.” He grinned at me.

  “Business now or later?” I asked, already reaching for my tote. Neither one of us liked to wait.

  “Are you sure you don’t have personal business you need to be doing?” he asked gently.

  “Nope.”

  He looked taken aback and a little bit hur
t. Inwardly I sighed. I considered Garrett a friend. At least as much a friend as I allowed myself to have outside Jen, Stacey, and Lorraine. He and I had been doing business for a number of years, and he had shared a lot of bacon with me. I liked him and I didn’t want to offend him.

  I bent forward, looking at him earnestly. “Look, it’s really okay. I wasn’t close to my mom at all. I’d like to say I was, but she and I didn’t get along. At all. It probably sounds horrible, but I really am more relieved she’s gone than anything else.”

  He blinked at me and then reached out and took my hand between both of his, his dark eyes warm. “For your sake, I’m glad. I’m sorry that you and your mother didn’t have a better relationship. Family is important.”

  I shrugged and drew back. “I wouldn’t know. Now how about we change the subject? Please?” I smiled to take any sting out of the words.

  Garrett smiled back, shaking his head. “Anything for you, my darling. But if I can do anything at all, please let me know. You always have my friendship and support.”

  I blinked, not quite knowing what to say to that. Garrett always seemed so reserved. His warmth surprised me. “Thanks,” I said finally, smiling. “You’re a gem.”

  I pulled a plastic file out of my bag and unlatched it, pulling the contents out. “Here are the pieces I’ve set aside for you, along with all the information on provenance, makers, and the like. There are some very interesting jewelry pieces and a collection of ivory dogs that appear to be at least three hundred years old. Then a list of furniture pieces. I loaded images onto a thumb drive.” I passed it over to him.

  He paged through the thick stack, asking questions and making notes on the sheets. Andre brought our breakfasts—crab eggs benedict for me, with four slices of bacon, and an apple German pancake topped with a thick basil cream for Garrett. When Andre set the plate of extra bacon in front of him, Garrett shoved it toward me with his fork.