Authors: Beth Solheim
At Witt's End (7 page)
A smile graced her lips as Paul Brink's words tiptoed into her mind. When Paul had generously offered to foot the bill for purchasing the mortuary and the five acres it sat on, Nan had refused. She wanted to do it on her own. Accepting his offer meant making a commitment. Her marriage to Clay had been a disaster and she wasn't ready to commit to someone else. Now she wished she hadn't refused. It was beginning to look like the dream of perpetuating her father's funeral enterprise would never be realized.
"I forgot to tell you Lon called,” Mr. Bakke said.
"Did he say what he wanted?"
"Not really, but he asked if you'd finished with the Fossums yet."
"I had the strangest conversation with Lon yesterday,” Nan said. “After he helped me load a body into the hearse, he told me he asked Carl Swanson to investigate the Fossums’ deaths. Carl refused. He said Carl got really nervous when he brought it up."
"What did he tell you? Does he think foul play was involved?"
"I'm not sure. But I know he's investigating on the sly. He said if Carl finds out, he'll push to get him transferred. Or fired."
"I can't believe anyone would hurt the Fossums. Richard Fossum didn't have an enemy in the world,” Mr. Bakke said. “He's the kindest person I know."
"Lon said the same thing. That's one of the reasons he's puzzled. He asked if Paul ever discussed any problems he had with Richard."
"Did he?"
"None that he ever talked about. Paul's pretty quiet about his business. There's a lot of confidentiality issues in the insurance business, you know."
"I suppose that's true.” Mr. Bakke tossed the cloth into a hamper.
"Lon said he wished he could get into Richard's office to look at his papers. He wants to see if he can figure out why Richard was depressed."
Sadie and Jane accompanied Nan, Mr. Bakke, and six men to the cemetery following the funeral of a woman who had passed and left no immediate family. She had been institutionalized and outlived the majority of her kin. Those relatives still living had long since forgotten her. Nan insisted that each client be treated with respect and dignity. This woman was no exception. Sadie, Jane, and Mr. Bakke willingly accompanied the woman on her final journey.
The tiny procession fell into place behind a patrol car with its flashers blinking rhythmically against the afternoon sky. Two cars followed the hearse.
After Nan parked the hearse at the cemetery, Mr. Bakke, still spry at seventy, walked toward the gravesite grasping Jane's arm with his right hand and clutching a psalm book in the other. Nan and Sadie followed close behind.
When Nan had offered Mr. Bakke a part-time job to assist with funerals and body preparations, the elderly man jumped at the opportunity. He preferred productivity rather than wasting his time in a vacuum. He had proved to be a valuable assistant. Many times Nan had to insist he pace his workload.
Work wasn't the only thing occupying Mr. Bakke's time. Jane was his other project. The romance had brewed over two decades and turned into a satisfying convenience for them both.
Mr. Bakke lived in Cabin 12. Cabin 12 had been reserved for the resort's caretaker, but when Mr. Bakke could no longer keep up with the duties of the expanding resort, the Witt sisters let him live there permanently. The resort now had three younger men handling the caretaking responsibilities.
Two gravediggers stood off to one side at a respectable distance as the attendees gathered around the burial hole. Four gentlemen from an area church and two local businessmen who had offered to serve as pallbearers lifted the casket from the hearse and placed it on the supports straddling the hole.
Mr. Bakke recited a psalm as they lowered the woman into the ground. He leaned in and placed a rose on the casket. The group then recited the Lord's Prayer. A gravedigger winced and looked out of the corner of his eye at his fellow digger as Mr. Bakke solemnly offered an off-key rendition of Amazing Grace.
Heavy silence surrounded the site. Nan nodded to the gravediggers. The pallbearers quietly returned to their vehicle.
As Jane walked back to the car, she poked her sister with her elbow. “Did you notice that car we met on the way to the cemetery?"
"What car?"
"That car with Carl Swanson and Judge Kimmer. Judge Kimmer was in the front seat with Carl. And Paul Brinks was in the back."
Sadie pressed closer to her sister. “Are you sure?"
"Positive. I know Paul and Carl are friends, but since when does Paul associate with Judge Kimmer?"
Sadie put her finger to her lips as Nan caught up with them.
"Thanks, Mr. Bakke. You did a wonderful job,” Nan said. “I couldn't have done it without you.” She nodded her appreciation to the sisters as she clasped their hands.
"Are you going to be home this evening?” Sadie asked.
"I have no choice. I've got a full slate with the Fossum family. In fact, Mr. Bakke, I'd like to take you up on your offer to help."
"I'll do it,” he replied. “And I refuse to accept that raise you gave me. Just pay me what you paid me before. I do it because I enjoy it.” He quickly added, “Not in a morbid sense, mind you. I enjoy it because I like being useful again."
Nan's eyes filled with gratitude.
"If you have a few minutes to spare,” Sadie said, “we'll stop by after you finish with the Fossums. Jane and I have something to tell you."
"Great. I'll see you then.” Nan slammed the hearse door and turned the key in the ignition.
Jane waved at Mr. Bakke as they drove off in the hearse.
Carl Swanson slowed his vehicle to a stop and turned off the overhead flashers. Reaching for his sunglasses, he shook them open and slipped the bows over his ears. “Where's my pen?” He ran his hand through a pile of debris strewn across the car seat.
Furious at being pulled over, Sadie hunched behind the wheel and waited for Carl to approach the passenger side of the Witt's End shuttle. She stared out the window as Carl rapped on the door.
"All right you old biddy, open the door.” He stuffed his shirttail into his waistband and hoisted up his pants.
After Carl's second rap on the glass, Sadie grabbed the door's release lever and pushed it forward. “I see you took your sweet time getting out of your car. Your hemorrhoids acting up again?"
"Anything to prolong your agony, Sadie. You know my day's not complete until I make you miserable. Oh, and by the way, it's going to get worse."
Ignoring his face protruding through the opening, Sadie crossed her arms over her chest and stared through the windshield at a dead dragonfly that had taken one flight too many.
"I'll wait all day if I have to.” Carl leaned his elbow on the door and scanned the seats in the van. He gave an exaggerated wave. “I suppose you've got a full load today."
"There's not a soul in here but me. I'm going to tell everyone you're waving at my imaginary friends."
"You be sure to do that. It adds fuel to my lawsuit. What judge would rule in favor of a crazy woman?"
After flicking a piece of lint from the dashboard, Sadie arranged the rearview mirror so she could check her image. She fluffed her spiked hair and turned her head from side to side before tapping on her ear lobe to set an earring containing zebra, leopards, and a menagerie of wildlife in motion. She cocked her head toward Carl. “You still here? I thought you'd be out chasing real criminals instead of preying on the elderly."
Carl placed a foot on the first step. “Get it out. Get it out right now.” Beads of sweat formed along the brim of Carl's cap from the sun beating down on his dark uniform.
"Get what out?” Sadie said.
"It's so sad when old people become babbling idiots. Your Alzheimer's must be in full bloom.” He put a hand on his raised leg. “You know what I want. Get it out.” Carl leaned closer to the petite five-foot driver.
"Oh yippie. It's frisking time.” Grinning, Sadie started to unbutton her shirt.
"What the hell are you doing?” Carl backed down one step.
"I know what you want.” Sadie leaned toward him. Spreading her zebra stripe shirt, she said, “I'm ready."
Flinching as Sadie rose from the driver's seat, Carl shouted, “Sit down. Button your shirt."
Sadie pouted. “No frisking today?"
"I wouldn't frisk those saggy old breasts if you were the last woman on earth. I couldn't stoop that low."
Smiling, Sadie dropped back into the seat. “Maybe not. But it might bring back memories. Don't you remember the times you practiced becoming a deputy by frisking my daughter? Everyone comments on how she resembles me."
"That's disgusting,” Carl said. “Your daughter is nothing like you. I remember every inch of her body."
"I'm sure you do.” Pleased that Carl accepted the bait, Sadie added, “Don't you just love those old memories? And doesn't it just kill you that she dropped you flat on your face when she caught you two-timing with Bubbles Borque?"
The flush creeping over Carl's face matched the deep red embossing on his cap. He removed his hat and ran his arm across his forehead. “For your information, I was the one who planned on dumping her. Bubbles made it easier."
"Is that why I heard you crying outside her bedroom window night after night? You sure know how to beg."
Carl tugged his cap back into position. “Get your driver's license out."
"Not until you tell me why you pulled me over.” Ever since Carl had filed the lawsuit, he made a point of pulling her over every time he spotted the shuttle van. “I haven't broken any law. What's the charge?"
"Same thing as last time. It amazes me someone as ancient as you still doesn't know the rules of the road.” Without looking up, Carl wrote on the ticket. “Of course senility tends to do that, doesn't it? I think you need your driver's license revoked.” Carl's gaze skimmed the bill of his cap and he looked up at Sadie. “I think I'll talk to Judge Kimmer about that, too."
"You're a good-for-nothing piece of sperm that didn't have the sense to quit swimming,” Sadie shouted. Reaching under the driver's seat, she pulled out a ruler and waved it in Carl's face. “See this? I'm going to prove I didn't stop too far past the stop sign. I'm going to put an end to your harassment. I have no intention of paying the last two tickets and I don't intend to pay this one, either."
Descending the van steps, Sadie got down on her hands and knees and placed the ruler on the pavement. “There. Look at that.” Waving at anyone who would listen, Sadie raised her voice. “Everybody look. Look at this ruler. This deputy is trying to give me a ticket for stopping too far ahead of the stop sign.” Cupping both hands around her mouth she shouted, “Harassment. Blatant harassment. This deputy is preying on the vulnerable elderly."
"You idiot,” Carl said, yanking Sadie up by her arm. Pushing her back toward the van's door, he put his mouth near her ear. “Get back in that van before I arrest you for causing a riot."
"Riot?” Sadie looked back over her shoulder as Carl squeezed her arm. “Seems to me everyone's avoiding you, not me. I'm a harmless old woman.” She massaged the pain in her arm caused by Carl's grip. “I hope this turns black and blue so I can show my attorney what you did to me."
Carl's gaze zeroed in on the reddened area. “That's nothing compared to what you'll feel the day I escort you off my property after the judge rules in my favor."
"That will never happen.” Sadie sat behind the steering wheel and glared at Carl. “You can make up all the lies you want about your grandfather, but you'll never get my land. Isn't it enough you got his money when your father died?"
"Not nearly enough,” Carl spat. “Have you decided on a nursing home yet? You're going to have to go somewhere when I escort you off my property. Think of the fun you'll have playing Bingo while you piss in your pants. That should give you something to look forward to.” Pushing further into the van he added, “Come to think of it, I'm going to have to evict old man Bakke, too. I hear you don't charge him rent. I'm not going to give him a free ride."
"I'm not worried. Judge Kimmer will rule in our favor."
Spittle flew as a hearty laugh burst from Carl's lips. “You really are stupid, aren't you? You're not one of Kimmer's favorite people."
"Then I'll ask for another judge."
"Won't help. The only other judge is retiring next week and the court calendar is full until Thanksgiving. Too bad."
Sadie pulled on the door lever and the panels closed against Carl's body.
Carl stopped the closure with his elbow and pried the door open. “My grandfather wanted me to have the resort. Your mother got him to sign over the deed by using sex. Everyone knows that. They also know that after granddad died, your mother ran the resort as a whore house."
"That's a lie, Carl Swanson. She did no such thing."
Carl interrupted. “For all I know, you're doing the same thing. But that will end soon.” Releasing his grip, Carl added, “Be sure to take your imaginary friends with you when you go. I don't want people thinking I'm crazy, too."
Sadie tapped the face of her watch. “You just wasted twenty minutes of our tax payer's time. If you'd put that much effort into proving the Fossums were murdered, you might get someone to vote for you."
Carl stopped mid stride. “What did you say?"
"Lon thinks it wasn't an accident."
"Lon better keep his mouth shut. And so should you if you know what's good for you."
"Don't come any closer.” The whispered warning was barely audible. Aanders hugged the counter and stared at the image. Through eyes glazed with fear, Aanders looked from the body lying on the embalming table to the pale image coming toward him. “I said stay there."
Tim moved closer to the embalming table, but hesitated when Aanders turned in withdrawal. “Please don't leave.” He reached for his friend. “Please stay with me."
Unable to grasp the situation, Aanders blurted, “This can't be real. You can't be talking to me if you're dead.” He squinted to bring the image into focus. “Are you dead or not?” The last word rose to a high pitch as Aanders saw Tim step closer.
