Murder on the Hoof: A Mystery (Colleen McCabe Series) (23 page)

The Food Lion was known for its efficient air-conditioning, something Colleen usually found uncomfortable, but today it felt good on her skin. Maybe it was her growing anger that was causing her temperature to rise. She needed to remain calm if she was going to question Sam without arousing suspicion. She took a breath and decided to pick out the card first. It would give her a reason to be in the store in case he asked. She strolled to the stationery and magazine aisle, all the while keeping an eye out for Sam. She found the cards and took a moment to consider them. She finally found one that conveyed her sincere sympathy, then went in search of Sam.

She crept along the ends of the aisles, casually glancing up each as she passed. As she was reaching the last section of the store, she worried that perhaps Sam hadn’t come to work today. Maybe he had been home when Bill had arrived to arrest Rita. Then again, maybe she was wrong in thinking ill of the man. She rounded the corner and saw him stocking a shelf with Rice Krispies. His back was to her, so she had an opportunity to observe him before he saw her. Nothing about the way he was carrying himself indicated that he had a care in the world.

She strolled up the aisle and stopped in front of the breakfast bars a short distance away. She could see in her peripheral vision that he had turned to grab more boxes and noticed her. She snatched a box of breakfast bars and moved as if heading toward the front of the store.

“Oh, hey there, Sam,” she said, trying to appear surprised to see him.

“Hello,” he said, and placed more cereal boxes on the shelf.

She studied his face. Did he appear nervous? Calm? Indifferent? It was hard to tell. It certainly didn’t look like he knew anything about Rita’s arrest.

“I was picking up a sympathy card,” she said. “For Rich’s family. I’m going to stop by there today.”

“Me, too. I heard they want a quick service.”

An awkward tension passed. He had finished stacking the boxes and was ready to move on. How could she keep him there without it seeming strange? Before she had a chance to think of a topic to talk about, his phone rang. She hoped the call was short and that it wouldn’t pull him away from talking to her.

“Hello?” he said into the phone. “What? When?” His eyes widened. “No, I didn’t know.… Yes. Of course I’ll come down,” he said, then ended the call and stared blankly down the aisle.

“Are you okay?” she asked after a moment.

He blinked, as if seeing her there for the first time. “They’ve arrested Rita.”

She nodded. There was no point in pretending she didn’t know. If Bill hadn’t already told Sam that Rita had broken into Colleen’s house, he most certainly would when Sam went to the station.

“What will I do without her?” he asked, struggling to keep from crying.

Colleen felt sorry for the man and guilty about having suspected him earlier. “Why do you think she did it?” she asked gently.

His sobbing grew louder, and a vacationer moved her child away.

“Why don’t we get you out of the aisle,” she suggested, not wanting a scene.

She followed him as he shuffled to the back of the store and went through the swinging doors to the loading dock. He stared out the open dock door.

“I never should have told Rita,” he said, less tearful now.

“Told her what?” Colleen asked, puzzled.

“About me and Doris.”

Her eyes widened in surprise.

“Marvin was right,” he said.

“But you said—”

“I know. I had already broken it off with Doris. I didn’t see the point in telling him. She was gone. Nothing was going to bring her back.”

“When did Rita find out?”

“After I told Doris we were through, I confessed the whole thing. I thought we were past it.”

“You may have been, but apparently Rita wasn’t.”

They fell silent. A bird chirped in the bushes behind the store. There it was: the reason Doris had been murdered. Rita had made Sam pay for his indiscretion by taking Doris’s life, proving the truth of the saying “Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.”

“Well,” he said, breaking the silence. “I’d best be getting down to the station.”

“I’ll see myself out,” she said, and discreetly retreated.

The cold air hit her as she pushed through the swinging doors and into the brightly lit store. She made her way through the checkout line and retrieved Sparky. She needed to tell Bill what she had discovered. They crossed the lot to the SUV and hopped in. She started the engine, dialed, and got his voice mail. He must be questioning Rita now, she thought.

“Bill, it’s me,” she said after his message was over. “Give me a call when you get a chance. I know why Rita killed Doris.”

Chapter 19

“Like the voice of a bird
singing in the rain, let grateful memory survive in the hour of darkness.”—Robert Louis Stevenson,
Prayers Written at Vailima,
1904.

Colleen signed her name beneath the sympathy card’s quote and exhaled. It had always been difficult for her to keep her emotions in check when it came to death. As a child, she had found it sad when summer’s flowers faded, and she had always preferred the pale green of spring buds over the final colorful curtain call of fall. She knew death was a part of life, and yet it always upset her, especially when it came unexpectedly and all too soon.

She stared at the salmon-colored facade of Bailey and Sons Funeral Home with its white columns and lace-curtained windows. Now that she had signed the card, there was nothing to delay her from leaving the security of her SUV and going inside. She hoped some words of comfort would come to her when she met Rich’s brother Michael. Although, given his family’s line of work, she imagined there was nothing she could say to Michael that he hadn’t said to clients many times before. Perhaps words weren’t necessary. Maybe her presence would be enough.

She cut the engine, exited with Sparky, and entered a peace garden next to the funeral parlor that the Baileys had landscaped to allow those grieving a quiet place to retreat. She wound her way along the slate path to the shaded bench surrounded by ornamental grasses. She didn’t think the Bailey family would mind if she tied Sparky to the bench while she went inside.

“I’ll be right back,” she said, and jumped at finding Myrtle standing at the garden’s entrance. “Myrtle, I didn’t know you were here,” she said, making her way back through the garden.

“Wish I wasn’t,” her former schoolteacher said with sincerity. “Thought I’d stop by and see if there was anything I could do.”

“How’s everyone doing with the play?” Colleen asked. She wondered if they had heard about Rita’s arrest yet and what impact it, combined with Doris’s and Rich’s deaths, would have on the show. She wouldn’t blame the group if the show ended up being postponed or canceled.

“We’ve got a few surprises up our sleeves,” Myrtle said.

“So it’s still on?”

“The show always goes on.”

So nobody had heard about Rita’s arrest yet. Colleen motioned to the front of the building. “Shall we?”

She opened the heavy door for Myrtle. It closed behind them with a gentle whoosh. She’d never gotten used to the eerie quiet of funeral homes. She was actually glad Myrtle was there with her. She tiptoed down the softly lit burgundy-carpeted hall and peered into the first room. Upholstered chairs lined the walls, but otherwise the room was empty.

“Maybe down here,” Myrtle said, and pointed toward the back of the building.

Colleen made her way to the next room. Chairs were arranged in rows before an expensive casket. She hesitated before stepping inside. Was Rich lying in there? She inched forward, Myrtle right behind her, and was relieved to find the casket empty. Of course it’s empty, she chided herself. They don’t just leave bodies lying around in empty rooms unattended with the lid open.

She studied the casket. It was shiny, with a slightly arched lid, rounded edges, and what seemed like layers of billowing fabric inside—the Rolls-Royce of coffins, she imagined.

“May I help you?” came a soft male voice.

Rich’s brother Michael stood in the doorway, staring at them with curiosity. He was a younger, thinner version of his brother, and the sight of him made her sad all over again.

“I’m sorry,” she said stepping forward. “I was merely…” She gestured around the room and then held up the sympathy card.

Michael smiled with understanding and accepted the card. “It’s thoughtful of you to stop by,” he said.

“I’m sorry about your brother,” Myrtle said. “Rich was a good kid, never gave me any trouble in class, even brought me an apple once.”

Colleen was surprised to see Myrtle retrieve a tissue from her purse and dab her eyes.

“I didn’t mean to come by before Rich’s viewing,” Colleen said, giving Myrtle a moment to collect herself. “It’s just that, well, I was thinking of him this morning.” She left out the information about viewing the footage of Rich’s final moments alive at the training exercise.

“You chose the correct casket,” Michael said, gesturing to the one in front of them. “Rich picked this one out himself.”

“He had already picked out his own casket?” Colleen asked, surprised.

“Planning for such events
is
our business.”

“Right. Of course.”

“It’s quite nice,” Myrtle said, shoving the tissue back into her purse. “Is there anything I can do for you? Perhaps call people about the viewing?”

For the first time, they saw a chink in Michael’s calm, professional demeanor, and his cheeks and nose flushed the way they do when someone is on the verge of tears. “What a kind offer,” he said. “We’ve notified family, but perhaps you might inform the rest of the theater company. I’m sure Rich would have wanted them here.”

Colleen bit her tongue. There might be one member he wouldn’t have wanted at his funeral—his killer.

“I’d be happy to tell them,” Myrtle said.

“I’ll be right back with the information,” he said, and left them alone in the viewing room.

“Poor man,” Myrtle said.

Colleen examined the empty casket. “Looks oddly … comfortable,” she said.

“I told Bobby not to bother with the fancy stuff.”

Colleen looked at her with raised brows.

“What?” Myrtle said. “If all goes well at the pearly gates, I’ll be floating around on a heavenly cloud, reading a good book. What happens with this old body won’t make a hill of beans’ difference.”

“What does Bobby have to say about that?”

“He
says
he agrees, but I’m afraid he might make a fuss. He’s not as strong as I am.”

“He’s stronger than you think,” Colleen said.

Maybe it was being in the quiet room with her old teacher, contemplating life and death, maybe it was her gratitude for not having had to face Michael alone, or maybe it was their affection toward Rich, but Colleen felt closer to Myrtle than she ever had. It almost made her forget how aggravating the woman could be.

“I heard your body doesn’t really stay all that preserved,” Myrtle said matter-of-factly.

“Myrtle,” she scolded in a hushed tone, and stole a glance back at the door to be sure Michael hadn’t overheard the remark.

Myrtle shrugged. “That’s what I heard.”

She had heard the same thing. Bill had once told her about an exhumation he had witnessed early on in his career and how the body had deteriorated despite embalming. The idea of decay didn’t bother her. In fact, it seemed perfectly natural and had made her conclude that, at least at this point in time, she’d prefer cremation over burial. Why bother trying to preserve the body when a person’s soul, the intangible thing that makes a person who she or he is, is gone?

She scrutinized the split-lid casket with its plush pillow and matching lining. It made sense that Rich would pick out such a lovely one—if that was even the right word to use for a casket. He had spent his life providing a final dignified repose for others. If anyone deserved the best, it was Rich. While marveling at the workmanship of the container, a groove on the side of the split lid caught her eye. She studied the semioval crown over where the lower half of the body would lie and then ran a finger along the edge of the lid.

“What is it?” Myrtle asked, noticing her furrowed brows.

“I don’t know. Feels almost like another part of the cap.”

“Maybe it has to do with how they open and close it,” Myrtle offered, also squinting at the section in question.

Colleen leaned closer and edged her fingernails along the groove. “Keep an eye on the door,” she whispered.

“What are you going to do?” Myrtle asked.

“The door, Myrtle,” she said, trying not to raise her voice.

Myrtle hurried to the doorway and peered into the hall. “Coast is clear,” she said loudly, then caught herself and covered her mouth.

“If Michael returns, try to distract him.”

“How?”

Colleen was losing her patience. “I don’t know. You’re an actor. Think of something,” she said, trying to keep her voice down, and turned her attention back to the lid.

She pulled at the lid’s edge, and a drawer slid out about a half an inch toward her. Did the coffin have a secret compartment? She tugged again, but something inside prevented her from opening the drawer all the way. She wiggled her pinkie finger into the opening and felt something hard and smooth. Whatever it was, one edge was slightly raised and was stopping her from opening the compartment completely. She needed something flat to wedge into the opening and force the object down while she opened the drawer. She pulled her keys from her pocket, but all were too thick to wedge into the opening.

“Myrtle,” she whispered. “Do you have anything thin and flat, like a paper clip or a nail file?”

“Would a ruler work?” Myrtle asked, removing a thin, clear, hard plastic ruler from her purse.

She couldn’t believe her luck. A ruler? Really? What else did Myrtle have in that purse? On another occasion, I’d like to find out, she thought. Right now, though, she needed to see what was inside the drawer before Michael came back and caught her monkeying with Rich’s coffin. She took the ruler from Myrtle, returned to the casket, and squeezed it into the slot. Here goes nothing, she thought. She pushed the ruler down hard while gently pulling on the lid. She got as far as she had before and then again the drawer stopped. Any minute now, Michael would come through that door. Maybe if she shook the drawer a little while she pulled, it might help.