Chapter 15
Barrett’s Funeral Home
“You’re sure you don’t want to go home?” Bent studied Vera with blatant skepticism.
She didn’t bother trying to produce a smile.
She felt like hell. He was right about all the things he was no doubt thinking.
Her head hurt. She felt ill. That late lunch he’d forced her to eat was on the verge of making a reappearance.
But she was absolutely positive she did not want to go home and crawl into bed.
She had too much to do. It was never good to allow a case to cool when so many little fires had been ignited.
Every member of Thomas Wilton’s household and personal staff was feeling the heat. If a single one of them was holding back, right now was when they would be most worried. The tension and fear that worry prompted made them vulnerable.
“No.” Vera dredged up a ghost of a smile. “I need to talk to Eve. She’ll take me home.”
Bent made one of those faces that warned he thought she was making a mistake. “Okay. Should I walk you in?”
She wasn’t even going to answer that. “I’ll see you later.”
Her exit from his truck was less than graceful, so she didn’t dare make eye contact with him once she was walking away. He would be shaking his head and thinking that she was too hardheaded for her own good.
Maybe she was, but if he didn’t understand that was her way by now, he was well behind the curve and probably wouldn’t ever catch up.
She pulled open the glass entrance door. Damn, when had it gotten so heavy. Lucky for her no one greeted her, which meant she could scurry on to the mortuary room without having to exchange all the usual chitchat with someone who wanted to sell her a deluxe funeral and burial package.
As she neared her destination, she couldn’t decide which was worse: the fake floral odor of a funeral home or the atrocious music playing softly in the background.
She needed to remind Eve that when she died, she wanted to be cremated. She would not have half the town scrutinizing her cold, dead face and stiffly styled hair. Or talking about her infamous history over her casket, or any of the other stuff that people did during visitations.
At the mortuary room door Vera knocked, then braced herself for her sister’s reaction to her arrival.
Eve did not like to be interrupted when she was preparing a visitor.
That was what she insisted on calling the dead people who ended up on her table.
Vera reminded herself not to say corpse or dead body.
When Eve didn’t open the door, Vera knocked again. Maybe her sister had started wearing earbuds and didn’t hear the knocking. Doubtful. Eve liked conversing with her visitors. Yeah, there was that too.
But that was just Eve’s way. She wasn’t psychic (that they knew of), and she wasn’t off her rocker. Well, not any more than Vera, anyway. They simply had their eccentricities. Didn’t everyone?
“Vee, what’re you doing here?”
Startled, Vera whirled around, suffering a bout of lightheadedness for her effort.
“Hey.” She steadied herself. The sudden movement had sent a blast of pain through her skull.
A wince constricted her face before she could stop it.
Then she frowned. Why was Eve dressed in a business suit?
Where were her scrubs? “I thought you were working.”
“I am.” Eve grabbed Vera by the arm and pulled her toward the lobby. “I don’t have a lot of time, so you’ll have to talk while I prepare.”
“Okay.” The fast pace was not working well with Vera’s overall physical condition, but she kept her mouth shut and allowed her sister to drag her along. What the hell was she preparing for?
Eve ushered her into a parlor and quickly closed the collapsable door that separated it from the long corridor.
There were about a half dozen of these “parlors” along the corridor.
At least two had those same collapsable doors between them for opening up into larger spaces for the visitors who had more friends and family than a single space would hold.
Vera grimaced when she noticed a casket surrounded by more of those unpleasant smelling flower arrangements on the far side of the room.
Chairs and sofas lined the rest of the space.
Tissue boxes sat on side tables and, of course, that sad music played softly.
Eve hurried around the room, checking that all was as it should be.
She was in her element—perfectly at home.
Funerals were Eve’s thing. Vera just didn’t get it. She frowned, making her head hurt all the more. Her sister wasn’t usually a part of this aspect of the business. Her work was behind the scenes—preparing her visitors for their last hurrah.
At her questioning look, Eve said, “We’re shorthanded. I have to host this visitation. Which starts in a few minutes, so talk fast.”
That made sense, Vera supposed.
Eve adjusted a floral arrangement. “Luna called,” she said when Vera remained mute. “Mr. Andrews came through the surgery. He’s in stable condition, but they won’t know how he’s going to do until he wakes up. I was supposed to let you know, but I got busy.”
Vera snapped out of the near coma she’d lapsed into. Good grief. The day was practically over, and she hadn’t taken a moment to wonder how Luna’s father-in-law was doing. “That’s good news.”
Eve’s scurry around the room concluded at the casket.
She unlocked it and then opened one half, revealing the prepared visitor inside.
Hoping Eve would be still for a few minutes, Vera joined her there.
She put extra effort into not staring at the woman in the glittery pink box.
When had they started adding sparkles to the paint on caskets? Just too weird.
“What’s wrong with you?” Eve surveyed her from head to toe and back. “You look terrible, and you’re acting like you’re drunk.”
Vera supposed she did. The jeans and tee weren’t exactly proper attire when she wasn’t working from home.
But then she hadn’t dressed this morning for leaving the house.
“Someone popped in this morning and hit me with . . .” It hurt to recall that moment.
“I don’t know what. The weapon wasn’t found.
Anyway, the blow put me down, and now I have a concussion.
I can’t drive or run that marathon I had planned.
Bent dropped me here so I could talk to you. ”
“Someone broke in at the farm? You didn’t have the alarm set?” Eve stopped tidying the satin lining around the edge of the now-open casket.
“I disarmed it because I had a visitor.” She frowned. “Not your kind of visitor—a person of interest in the case. We’re not sure at this point if someone else came in after I unlocked the door.” She shrugged, grimaced when the move affected her head. “Anyway, I wanted to talk to you about Luna.”
Eve held up her hands stop-sign fashion. “First, you tell me what the hell is going on.” She glanced at the corpse in the coffin as if to say, Excuse me. “What marathon were you planning to run?”
With all that was happening just now—Luna’s mother-in-law dead at the bottom of her stairs, her father-in-law in intensive care after major heart surgery, and three dead as well as another on the verge of death, not to mention this damned concussion—the silly marathon remark is what got her sister’s attention?
“There’s no marathon, Eve, I was . . . anyway, I’m helping Bent with the triple homicide out at the Wilton place.
One of the persons of interest stopped by the house, and while we were talking someone ambushed me or us.
” Sounded pretty amateurish on Vera’s part to be caught off guard like that, but it was the way it happened.
A frown furrowed deeply into Eve’s face. “You must have really made somebody angry.”
Wow. No sympathy here. Obviously if she was conked on the head, it was her fault.
“Probably.” Why argue? Besides, it was the nature of the beast in her chosen profession. “I’m not here to talk about that. I’m worried about Luna.”
“She seemed okay when we talked.” Eve finished tidying the liner. “She called about an hour ago and said she was heading home.”
“She’s driving back alone?”
Eve shot her another of those looks. “She’s done it a million times. She’ll be fine.”
Vera looked around to ensure they were alone. They were except for the dead woman. Vera frowned again. “Is that Mrs. Ingle?” The woman had been her and Eve’s art teacher back in middle school.
“Yes.” Eve patted the corpse’s cold, dead crossed hands. “She was such a good teacher.”
Vera’s frown deepened. “All I remember is the way she used those wooden paintbrush handles to smack me on the back of the hand when she caught me talking.”
Eve glowered at her. “Why were you talking in class?”
“Because I was a kid. That’s what kids do.”
“Ignore her, Mrs. Ingle. She still has a disrespectful streak.”
Vera wanted to roll her eyes, but she was certain it would be painful. “Seriously, I’m worried about Luna and what happened to Jackie.”
“You think she had something to do with Jackie falling?” Eve shook her head. “Come on, Vee, we both know that’s ridiculous.”
Vera took a moment to clear her head of the dozens of questions and possibilities whirling there.
“I know she would never set out to do anything to harm anyone. But something went down that she’s not telling us.
I can feel it. That cut-and-dried recap of how it happened is missing some element.
I hear it in her voice and see it in her eyes every time we talk. ”
Eve appeared to consider her words for a time. “I trust you more than anyone on this planet outside Suri. If you say something’s off, then it’s off. How do we figure out what it is without getting Luna in trouble?”
“I’m not entirely certain that’s possible.” The thought of that damned hardware store receipt had Vera’s gut twisting into knots. She should have looked into that today, but she hadn’t expected to end up at the ER with head trauma. She had no time for this sort of issue cropping up. Damn it.
“Look,” Eve said, drawing her thoughts away from the worry swelling inside her, “I don’t have much time. The Ingle family will be here soon. What can I do to help with the Luna situation?”
Vera couldn’t hold back her smile.
“Seriously? You’re smiling.” Eve shook her head again. “Sometimes I don’t get you, Vee.”
“I’m just thinking what a good sister you are and how grateful I am that you’re mine.”
The road for Eve hadn’t always been easy. But she had found her way, and Vera was immensely proud of her.
“We need to call Bent.” Eve’s voice and expression were dead serious. Before Vera could ask why, she went on, “I’m afraid that bang on the noggin did something really bad, Vee.”
Vera waved her off. “Just talk to Luna when the right opportunity arises. Make sure she knows she can tell us anything, and we’ll figure out how to make it right—as soon as we know what it is.”
“I will. I’ll do that tonight. Jerome won’t be back until tomorrow at the earliest, so I’ll go over and stay with her. We’ll talk and finish the final touches on the nursery.”
Vera hugged her sister. “That’s perfect.”
Eve stiffened but did manage to hug Vera back just a little. Eve had never been much of a hugger.
“I can get Charlie Keller to give you a ride home,” she offered, looking contrite now for being huffy when Vera first arrived.
“Charlie? I didn’t know he worked here.” The kid was younger than Luna. God, it was scary how fast time seemed to be flying lately.
“He does the pickups for Barrett’s.” Eve grinned. “If you want, he could drive you home in the hearse.”
“No thanks. I’m going across the street to visit Mama first. If Bent isn’t available when I’m ready to go, I’ll let you know.”
“Say hi for me,” Eve called over her shoulder as she finished preparing the room for Mrs. Ingle’s visitation.
Vera smiled again for her sister’s sake. She could not wait to get out of this place. “Will do.”
Dealing with death in this way had never been Vera’s cup of tea. Give her a mutilated murder vic anytime.
Not that she enjoyed seeing someone murdered . . . oh hell. Whatever. Anyone—including God—listening to her thoughts got it, hopefully.