Fran Rizer - Callie Parrish 05 - Mother Hubbard Has a Corpse in the Cupboard (2 page)

“That wouldn’t make any difference.” I turned my attention to Jane and touched her hand. “It’s okay. You’re not very close to him, and the sheriff is on his way.”

Patel understood then. “Sorry. I didn’t realize …” His last word faded as though he was embarrassed to state what he hadn’t known.

“Why are they going to wash off a dead person’s hands and face before the cops arrive?” Jane interrupted.

“The fellow who was getting your sausage dog fainted. The wet cloth is for him, not the dead man.”

“Is the body anyone we know?”

“No. He must work at the fair because he’s wearing a Middleton’s Midway denim windbreaker.” Didn’t tell her that the bloody hole went right through the “e” in “Middleton’s.”

“A Middleton’s jacket? A mortuary coat? Did Otis and Odell order funeral home T-shirts, too? When?” Her voice took on a shrill pitch.

I couldn’t help it. I cannot tell a lie. Well, I can, but I try not to. I burst out laughing just about as loud as James Brown sings out of my cell phone. Not the best thing to do under the circumstances, but the mental image of the Middletons advertising the funeral home on T-shirts was funny. “My bosses don’t have printed shirts. You know our uniforms are black or midnight blue suits for male employees and black dresses for females,” I answered, still trying to calm her by patting her hand. That’s one of the first rules in Mortuary 101—appropriate touch is calming. When working with the bereaved, pat them on the shoulder and say, “Now, now,” in a comforting tone.

“Middleton’s Midway is the name of the company that runs the midway, the people who work running the games and rides,” I explained.

The wet cloth had roused the shaggy-haired fellow, and other employees helped him back through the opening to the kitchen area.

“Did you say you’ve called the police?” Patel asked me.

“Yes, they should be here any minute.”

“Will you help me move him out of the tent?” He reached down and grasped one of the corpse’s hands. I slapped Patel’s arm away without even considering that hitting a stranger could be considered assault. I was raised with five older brothers and never thought twice about popping them when I disagreed with whatever they said or did, which resulted in lots of swats when we were kids. I grew up, but I’m not so sure my brothers will ever behave like adults, which is why I refer to them as The Boys with a capital T and a capital B.

“You can’t move the body,” I scolded in a tone that, even to me, sounded like a stern teacher voice. I probably shot him a severe look, too.

“That’s tampering with evidence.” Same tone. Then it occurred to me that Patel’s cultural heritage was probably less understanding of a woman swatting a man than the cultural upbringing of my redneck brothers.

“All your customers know he’s here, and what if the sheriff arrives while you’re moving him? You could be arrested.” I added, trying to convince him that his welfare was my concern.

“What customers?” Patel asked.

Sure enough, the clientele had rushed out, carrying their food trays, cups, bottles, and cans with them, apparently unaware that the law allows drinking alcohol at the Jade County Fair, but only inside establishments with alcohol licenses. It’s illegal to walk around drinking a beer, and Sheriff Harmon’s deputies won’t hesitate to haul anyone guilty off to the pokey.

“I just wanted to move the victim away from the tent. As you can see, it’s not good for business,” Patel defended himself.

“The victim?” Jane yelled. “Did he say ‘victim’? You mean it’s not some old man or woman who had a heart attack? Is this another murder?” She burst into tears.

“Not unless a heart attack leaves a bloody hole in a man’s back.” Sarcasm dripped from Patel’s lips.

Jane sobbed even harder and began touching the calves of her legs. “Do I have blood on me?” she demanded.

I saw a reddish brown spot on her jeans near her knee, but I wasn’t about to say so. If I did, she’d really go ballistic. Just then, a server placed a paper food tray with a sausage dog and vinegar raw fries in front of Jane. I picked up the bill and pulled my wallet from my jeans. Jane carries her own money and amazes me by always knowing exactly how much she has, but she was busy crying. I thought it could be her hormones, but the truth is she always cries around dead people, while it doesn’t bother me as much because of my job.

“No, no” Patel said and snatched the slip of paper, brushing my hand as he did.
Well,
I thought
, that was almost as strong as my hitting his hand. He just assaulted me right back.

“Let me treat the blind girl,” he said as he scribbled something on the bill and handed it to the server.

That did it. Jane exploded. “Blind girl? Blind girl? You think I can’t handle my own money because I can’t see?” She jumped up, tears streaming down her face. “How much is it?”

The server read the bill to her. Jane reached into her pocket, pulled out a modest roll of paper money with a rubber band around it, and counted out the correct amount before shoving the bills back into her pocket and pulling a handful of change from the pocket on her other side. She counted out exact change, then said to the server. “He comp’ed the charges. This is your tip. When’s the last time someone tipped you a hundred percent?”

“How’d she do that?” Patel watched with amazement.

“She can distinguish the coins by feel,” I answered. “She keeps her paper money in an exact order and has a system of folding it that lets her know the value of any bill she has in her pocket.”

“Amazing,” he said, then jumped when “I Feel Good …” shouted from my chest.

“Just my phone,” I explained and then answered it, “Middleton’s Mortuary. Callie Parrish speaking. How may I help you?”

“Callie, you’re not at work,” Rizzie said. “What’s going on? Why didn’t you and Jane come with me?”

“Think hard and you can guess. What keeps showing up in my life?”

“Men?”

I chuckled, “I wish, but first, tell me about Maum. Is she all right?”

“No, her hip is broken. We got Dr. Redmond, the same cardiologist that treated your dad. Tests show that Maum’s heartbeat is irregular and that’s probably what caused her to fall, but Tyrone is convinced he should have done something to prevent it.” I heard a catch in Rizzie’s voice before she continued. “The heart doctor is moving her to Healing Heart Medical Center

and calling in Dr. Midlands. He’s supposed to be the best orthopedic surgeon for elderly hip replacement. Come when you can. I’ve gotta go. Maum is being put in the ambulance now, and I’m going to follow.”

“Did Tyrone drive to the hospital?” He was only fourteen, and Rizzie normally wouldn’t let him drive in town although he’s been driving on Surcie Island since he was ten years old.

“The ambulance driver wouldn’t let him ride with them, so he came in the Gastric Gullah Econoline. Don’t worry. I won’t let him drive your Mustang.” I heard Rizzie sniffle and knew she’d been crying. “I have to go now.”

Patel stared as I tucked my cell phone back into my bra before returning to the topic of the dead man. “I wish you hadn’t called anyone about this body. We’re like old-fashioned carnies and gypsies. We take care of our own problems.”

“Buh-leeve me. That won’t fly in Jade County.”

“What won’t fly in Jade County?” a familiar voice asked from behind me as a comforting hand patted my shoulder.

2

“Okay, Callie, where’s the corpse this time?” Sheriff Wayne Harmon asked as I turned around.

Dalmation!
The word exploded in my mind. When I used to teach five-year-olds, I’d cleaned up the language I’d learned from my brothers and created kindergarten cussing.
Dalmation
for mildly cussable situations, followed by
One Hundred and One Dalmations,
and for the cussedest word of all—
Shih tzu!

Though I’d called the Jade County Sheriff’s Department, I hadn’t expected the sheriff himself to report to the scene. Only six weeks before, all five of the fingers on his right hand had been shattered by a crazy murderer with a hammer. Wayne had undergone extensive surgery and still wore casts.

Seeing his arm supported by a sling brought unpleasant images to my brain. I claim to never give nor take guilt trips, but my conscience sometimes nags me about the man I shot, and I don’t like to remember that day. The killer deserved to die for at least two murders he’d committed or maybe even for what he did to Wayne Harmon’s hand, and it was self-defense, but I fired the bullet that killed him, so what does that make me? I don’t like to think about it.

“Over there.” I pointed.

“Callie,” Jane said, “will you guide me to the table farthest away from the body?”

I helped her to the opposite side of the tent and then returned to the sheriff. Same old. Same old. I had to answer questions. Like I knew anything this time. The man was a stranger and even though Patel had been part of the fair for years, he claimed he’d never seen the dead man before. Or if he’d seen him working the midway, he’d never noticed him.

The forensics team worked while Jed Amick, Jade County’s coroner, who is our very own Ichabod Crane—tall, skinny, and dorky, but a smart man—watched. I moved away from the vicinity of the corpse and sat with Jane. She’d finished her sausage dog and Dr Pepper. Now she twisted her head from side to side.

“What are you looking for?” I asked.

Ex—scuse me. Jane can’t actually “look” for anything, but we’ve been friends since high school, and I’ve picked up her habit of using sight words though she can’t see anything.

“I smell something,” she said and sniffed.

“Don’t start that,” I scolded. “It’s your imagination. That body isn’t smelling yet.”

“I don’t mean that. It’s something delicious to eat.”

I inhaled hard then, but I couldn’t identify any new odors beyond the usual fair foods. Thank heaven we weren’t near the farm exhibits. Even clean, hog pens and other animal enclosures have odors that I never learned to love growing up on Daddy’s farm.

Sheriff Wayne Harmon walked over to our table. Well, actually, he strutted. He’s got great abs and a cocky walk, but I’ve never considered him date material. The sheriff is twelve years older than I, but that’s not why I’ve never thought of him romantically. He was my older brother John’s best friend when I was a little girl, and he was over at our house so much that he seems like my sixth brother. Dating Wayne would feel like incest.

“You two look like geese straining your heads around.”

Just then “I Feel Good …” sounded loud and clear from my chest. “It’s my cell phone,” I explained as I pulled it from my bra and said, “Hello.”

“What’s going on?” Rizzie asked. “Why aren’t you and Jane here yet?”

“First, is Maum all right?”

“They’ve got her here at Healing Heart, but she’s not handling this well. She doesn’t understand about breaking her hip. She’s crying to go home. She has to have surgery, but the doctors need to regulate her heart before they can fix the hip. Tyrone is all upset that he didn’t catch her when she fell, but the cardiologist said her heartbeat is really irregular and a sudden drop in the rhythm is probably what caused her the accident.” Rizzie’s words piled out right on top of each other.

“She’s already been admitted?

“Yes, but what I called to tell you is we’ve got your Mustang and my van here at Healing Heart. Dr. Midlands has been by and says he’ll operate as soon as Dr. Redmond okays it, but that may be several days.”

“As soon as we can, Jane and I will meet you at the medical center.”

“I still want to know why you didn’t come with me.”

“I found something and knew I’d have to talk to law enforcement. I shooed you out of here so you could get to Maum and Tyrone without being delayed.”

“I’m not asking anything more. You can tell me when I see you.” Her heavy, exaggerated sigh told me she’d probably guessed what I’d found.

Wayne had been listening. “Who’s at the hospital?” he asked.

When I explained about Maum, he said, “I already know you found the body, and Jane didn’t see anything, so you can go meet Rizzie if you want. I’ll get a more formal statement from you later.”

“I can’t,” I explained. “Rizzie has my car.”

“Call one of your brothers to come get you. Otis or Odell will be here to pick up the body, but we don’t know how long that will be. Gotta wait for forensics to finish and then no telling how much time Amick will take.”

Patel politely looked away when I reached back into my bosom for my phone. Sheriff Harmon didn’t give it a second glance. He’s used to me and never seems too surprised at anything I do.

I called my brother Frankie. He’s the youngest next to me, only two years older, and we’re closer than I am to my other brothers except John, the oldest. Besides, Frankie is engaged to Jane, so he should be the one to come get us. When I explained the situation, he got ticked off at me.

“Why do you drag Jane into these things?” he demanded. “If you keep getting her into situations like this, I’m going to make her stop hanging out with you as well as quit that job of hers.”