Fran Rizer - Callie Parrish 05 - Mother Hubbard Has a Corpse in the Cupboard (23 page)

I cried like a baby.

19

Starving. I realize that’s an exaggeration, but it’s how I felt. Besides, hyperbole is my habit. The delicious smells of a ton of foods on the kitchen counters and table tantalized and reminded me I’d skipped lunch. Well, not really two thousand pounds of food, but a whole lot. I’d known that the Gullah people prepare a big meal for after a funeral, but apparently, the guests had brought dishes for tonight, too. Rizzie hadn’t had time to do all that cooking.

Even though the Profits and I were good friends, as a representative of Middleton’s, I couldn’t just walk in and grab a plate of food. Odell circulated around the room, shaking hands and nodding his head in response to comments from the mourners. I looked around for somewhere to set my basket and overnight case. Tyrone solved the problem by taking them from me and putting them in Maum’s bedroom. I followed him there and noticed that the dresser mirror was turned backward. I knew this was a custom in several cultures.

About an hour after Odell left, I realized that there would be no official meal; people just ate whenever they wanted. I filled a paper plate with Gullah food though there were all kinds of things that weren’t Gullah. I’d missed Rizzie and Maum’s cooking since Gastric Gullah had been closed despite the fact that Tyrone and I had eaten a lot of their dishes out of Rizzie’s freezer. I hoped their friends were as good at cooking as the Profits. I sat on the floor in the kitchen. Rizzie had declined the funeral home’s offer to deliver folding chairs, and every seat in the house was occupied by someone near Maum’s age. Younger people all stood or sat on the floor. Dr. Graham looked around. Seeing no place to sit, he dropped the bouquet of roses on the floor and reached for the red ribbon across the seat of Maum’s rocking chair.

“No!” Tyrone shouted. “Don’t sit there.”

I noticed that when Dr. Graham dropped the flowers to the floor, a few petals fell off. They looked like even the roses were crying or bleeding for Maum.

A big man wearing African clothing offered his seat on the couch to Graham. I had to stop feeling so negative about the man. He wasn’t young, probably in his seventies, and I’d always been taught to respect my elders. After eating, I tried to listen to the tales and yarns about Maum. Her long-lost brother told stories about when he was a child, but since there was twenty years difference between him and Maum, they sounded more like anecdotes of a mother and son.

I must have looked tired. Rizzie told me that they would stay up all night, but that I could lie down in Maum’s room.

“Won’t your uncle be there?” I asked.

“If he needs to rest, he can take a nap in Ty’s room.”

About midnight, I excused myself and lay down on Maum’s bed. Technically, as a representative of Middleton’s, I should have stayed awake and within sight of the casket, but I didn’t think there would be any problems if I took a nap.

The next morning, a lot of people had gone home to change clothes for the funeral.

Rizzie and Tyrone were polite enough to let me shower first in their one bathroom. I put on my work uniform—a fresh black dress and low heels, then I sat in the main room and welcomed guests while Rizzie and Tyrone got ready. Uncle Wally was the last one to use the restroom. He came out wearing the same suit he’d worn the day before. Most of the people who’d been there the night before were back, freshly dressed in either traditional Gullah garb or Sunday best clothes.

The clock’s hands crept closer and closer to eleven. A few minutes before the minute hand reached twelve, Rizzie stood by the casket and said, “If anyone wants to tell Maum goodbye, come now before we close the coffin.”

I certainly didn’t correct her and explain the difference between a casket and a coffin. I know the difference and use the words interchangeably myself. Everyone lined up and passed by Maum. When they’d all gone by, Rizzie and Tyrone stood by the casket for several minutes. They both kissed Maum on the cheek, then Rizzie turned and looked at me. I stepped forward and closed the lid just as Odell came in. He walked over to Rizzie and asked, “Are you sure you don’t want to use the hearse?”

“No. Carrying our loved ones to their graves is a sign of respect.” She turned toward me and said, “Get your basket, Callie.”

The same men who had carried Maum into the house the day before took their places beside the casket with Tyrone at the front. I followed them outside and was surprised to see a white stretch limousine parked in the drive.

If I didn’t worry it would be disrespectful, I’d say people poured out of that vehicle like clowns out of a car at the circus. Some Gullah, some not, but all wearing red shirts. Rizzie’s mouth stretched into a tremendous smile.

“Who are they?” I asked her.

“Customers,” she answered. “Maum used to tell everyone how much she loved the color red.”

She turned toward the red shirts and called out, “Welcome. Thank you for coming.”

The procession was led by Tyrone at the front of the casket, followed by Rizzie and some of the people who had been at the house, many carrying baskets or white ceramic bowls and pitchers. A big, muscular man between the people from the house and the red shirt people at the back carried Maum’s rocking chair.

When we reached the edge of the cemetery, Tyrone stopped. He called out
Sez weh leh weh maa’ch een,
which was a Gullah request for permission to enter the graveyard. They all paused for a few minutes, then walked toward the open grave.

We Maum w’ary. Wa dey een heaven. Weh peeceubble mo’nuh. Keep we fom ebil, bad mout’.
Rizzie said in a chanting tone. I knew what it meant. She’d said that Maum was weary and had gone to heaven, and that the mourners were peaceful and she requested that the mourners not be victims of evil spells or a curse. Then she added,
Yuh him,
and waved her hand toward the casket. I knew that this was her way of saying, “Here she is.” “Him” is used for both males and females in Gullah. Rizzie had released Maum to go to her rest.

Even though the grave had been dug by hand, Middleton’s had put our casket-lowering equipment and a canvas awning in place, but no seats. Rizzie must have told Otis or Odell, “No chairs,” for there as she had for the house.

The Gullah mourners went forward and smashed bottles, bowls, and the ceramic pitchers around the grave site. Rizzie had told me this would happen. She’d said, “The broken glass and dishes ‘break the chain,’ so no one else in our family will die soon.”

Under Odell’s direction, Tyrone and the men placed the casket on the equipment. Rizzie and her friends spoke to the crowd, sometimes in Gullah, sometimes not. Odell lowered the casket, and the mourners took turns with shovels until the ground was level over the grave. The man carrying Maum’s rocking chair with the roses back in place in the seat placed it at the head of the grave, right beside Paw Paw’s marker. Those of us with baskets placed them on the grave. These were gifts for Maum in the afterlife.

A few more words in Gullah, and the procession reversed itself and returned to the house. Even more food had been added, and this time, the food was served as a meal with everyone sitting anywhere they could including on the front and back porches. I was on the front porch. Good grief! I knew Rizzie’s a great cook, but it must be in the blood. Everything I tasted was delicious.

I noticed a plate piled high with food on the porch railing. No one touched it, so when I started back inside, I picked it up.

“Oh, no!” several people said. An elderly man in traditional clothing took the plate from me and set it back on the porch.

Saraka,
he said. “That is the food for the departed.”

When Sheriff Wayne Harmon came in, I assumed he’d come to express his condolences. I could have kicked him when he went over to Rizzie and said, “I hate to ask this, but I really need to talk to Tyrone about where he was night before last.”

“Can’t this wait?” I asked with what I’m sure was a hateful look.

“It’s all right,” Rizzie said. “We’ll go into Maum’s room and talk there. I know I can be with Tyrone while you question him since he’s underage and I suppose I’m his guardian now that Maum’s gone. Can Callie sit in with us?”

“It’s not usual, but I’d rather let her than argue with her about it.”

“I’m Ty’s guardian, and I’m asking her to be there,” Rizzie said.

“That’s something else we need to talk about,” Wayne said. “So far as I’m concerned, you’re an adult and head of this household now, so you’re in charge of him, but you might want to see a lawyer and make guardianship legal.”

“Ty,” Rizzie called. “Come here a minute.” The teenager’s face showed dried tear tracks, but he smiled.

“What is it?” he asked. “Do I need to do something?”

“The sheriff wants to talk with you. Let’s go in Maum’s room.”

The smile disappeared off Tyrone’s face. The three of us went into the bedroom and closed the door.

“First, I’m not arresting you,” Wayne said to Tyrone, “so you don’t need the Miranda rights.”

“Miranda rights? Arresting him?” Rizzie exploded so loud the mourners probably heard her in the front room.

“No, I just said I’m not. Tyrone, have you heard that Dr. Parrot was shot the night your grandmother died?”

“Serves him right.”

“I understand you threatened Dr. Sparrow at the nursing home.
 

“I hate him. I want him dead. If he’d taken better care of Maum, she wouldn’t have died.”

“Ty, we’ve talked about that,” I interrupted. “Your grandmother was just too old and fragile to endure that break and surgery.”

“I don’t care. I hope that doctor
dies
.”

“He did,” the sheriff said. “Dr. Sparrow died on the steps of the hospital. A really fine shot in the front of his head. As hunters would say, “A clean kill.”

“Do we need a lawyer?” Rizzie asked.

“I hope not,” Wayne answered, “but Tyrone needs to tell me where he was that night after your grandmother died, and I need to see all of his weapons.”

The teenager’s face fell. “I didn’t shoot the doctor. I never even thought about that. I was gonna hire a root worker and pay for a spell.”

“Tyrone Methusalah Profit! Don’t you dare even think of finding a root doctor! You have no idea what you’d be messing with!” Rizzie’s horror showed on her face.

“Maybe the root worker told you to hoodoo the doctor yourself with a bullet,” Wayne suggested.

“I never found anyone who’d tell me where to find someone to work a spell. That’s where I went that night. I heard there was a hag or worker on the next island over, but nobody would tell me anything.”

“You said you were going out with your friends,” Rizzie accused. “You told me you were meeting someone when you left walking. Tell the sheriff who took you looking for somebody to put a mojo on that doctor.”

“Nobody. I walked.”

“So you have no way to confirm where you were that night after you threatened to kill the doctor?” The sheriff looked worried.

“No, sir.”

“Show me your gun.”

“I can’t.”

“What do you mean you can’t?” Rizzie demanded.

“I heard about somebody shooting Dr. Sparrow, and I knew someone would tell you about me threatening him, so I threw my gun off the bridge.”

20

If it hadn’t been for Big Boy, I would have felt lonely. I’d grown used to having Donald at my place, and then he’d dropped off the face of the earth with no calls or anything. Immediately after that, Tyrone had stayed with me while Rizzie sat at the hospital, then the rehab center, with Maum during her illness. This afternoon, I was not only home with no one except my dog, I couldn’t even go next door to visit Jane. She’d finally relented and let Frankie take her to the doctor to confirm her pregnancy.

One thing about my dog, he doesn’t need any encouragement to show his affection. He couldn’t get enough of having me all to himself. I’d curled up on the couch with a mystery novel, a Diet Coke, and a MoonPie, but Big Boy kept nuzzling his nose between my face and the book. I rubbed him in his favored spot. Well, it might not be his
very favorite
place, but it was his preferred location that I was willing to stroke—between his ears. All that did was encourage him to try to climb into my lap while he slobbered all over my book. Buh-leeve me. Almost a hundred and fifty pounds of Great Dane is too much to sit on me.

When he licked my cheek, I realized that Big Boy’s teeth hadn’t been brushed recently. That’s when I thought about how long it had been since I’d washed or groomed him. As a tiny puppy, I’d sometimes taken Big Boy into the shower with me. That stopped when he was only a couple of months old for two reasons. He grew too big and he grew too old. Maybe spending my girlhood in that house of testosterone I called home created an overly active sense of modesty in me, but it seemed weird to be naked in the tub with Big Boy after he was older. Oh, I don’t mean I’m overly modest when I’m doing the deed, but I definitely felt that way about bathing with my dog. It’s like that time when he was a puppy and Donald and I were all hot and bothered, but I put a stop to everything because puppy Big Boy was watching us.