Murder Passes the Buck (10 page)

pays for itself.
”
“
Kitty,
”
I said,
“
you watch too much T.
V.
”

The parking lot was packed when we pulled in and we had to park on the road. We left our coats in the cloakroom, which was almost full. A funeral warrants a big turnout. This was a big event.

“
I can
’
t help noticing you
’
re wearing a red dress,
”
I said to Cora Mae when she peeled off her black wool coat.
“
I thought black was your color, and since this is a funeral, it stands to reason you would wear black.
”

“
Not if I want to stand out in a crowd,
”
she replied, squeezing past Kitty.
“
You don
’
t know anything about snagging a man, do you?
”

With Cora Mae in the lead we headed down a short narrow hall to the Green Room, where Chester was laid out. My second hope for the evening
— getting a look at Chester — was dashed when I spied the closed casket. My first hope for a lead stood at the head of the casket next to several flower stands, bawling his eyes out.

I headed over, but the room was filled with people I knew and I slowed down to greet them. Most of these people had been at Barney
’
s funeral
— Elma and Waino Latvala,

the entire Sheedlo family, Lila Carlson, and all of them were hoping for a little extra information about Chester
’
s death. After all, as the
sheriffs
mother, I might have some extra juicy tidbits to pass around.

I wanted to talk to Chester
’
s son before I shocked everybody with the truth of the matter.
“
I
’
m not at liberty to discuss it right now,
”
I told each of them.

People buzzed around, spreading my mysterious comment to those who hadn
’
t heard. Kitty piped up and said,
“
You
’
re causing quite a stir.
”

“
I hate it when I do that.
”

By the time I finished fending people off, Bill Lampi wasn
’
t hiding out behind the flower arrangements any more. I looked around for him.

I saw Onni Maki slither by. He grinned like a cat that had just swallowed the canary. He wore a green suit that matched the walls of the room, a paisley shirt, and a thick gold chain around his neck. His thinning hair was wrapped around the top of his head to hide a large bald spot, and when he swept his hand through his hair to make sure it was in place, I noticed a gold ring on his pinky finger.

Cora Mae was gaining on him from behind, her Wonderbra pointing the way. She

had a grin on her face, too, like a timber wolf closing in on a bunny rabbit.

I wasn
’
t sure which one to feel sorrier for.

Ed Lacken, the funeral director, stood by the door, looking stiff and proper, his face pinched and red like his bow tie was on too tight.

I poured pink punch into a paper cup and wandered into the bathroom. I set the punch on the sink and went into a stall. I needed to be alone.

Barney had died fourteen months, ten days, and sixteen hours ago, and standing in the funeral home remembering his funeral brought back some of the pain I was trying to forget.

My sad secret
— that Barney hadn
’
t really died of a heart attack like I
’
d told everyone at his funeral — weighed heavily on my heart. The few people who knew the truth, Cora Mae, Blaze, and the funeral director, were sworn to secrecy. It
’
s the way he would have wanted it.

The truth is, Barney drowned in his waders. He went out trout fishing on the Esca-naba River, and his body was found floating downstream six hours later. He must have stepped into a deep hole, the waders filled up with water, and he sunk like a boat anchor.

After discussing it with Blaze, we decided Barney wouldn
’
t have wanted people to know he went that way. Sure, he was doing what he loved, but he also prided himself on his outdoor skills, and stepping in a hole wasn
’
t a dignified way to end a great fishing career. Barney would have considered stepping in a hole a stupid thing to do.

I
’
ve relived what I imagine were the last few minutes of his life over and over and over again, and I was trying not to go there right now.

I gave myself a few minutes, then splashed cold water on my face and rejoined the group.

Bill Lampi, dwarfed by the flower arrangements, stood alone at the foot of the casket, so I hurried over.

He was a small man, about five foot five, wasted-away thin like he had chronic wasting disease. A pair of oversized coke-bottle glasses magnified his eyes so they appeared owlish, three times larger than they really were. He wasn
’
t big and strapping like most Finns.

I offered my sympathies to him, and he broke down. He didn
’
t take his glasses off, just wiped the tears away as they slid through the frames. His father obviously meant a lot to him.

I put a hand on his bony shoulder and said,
“
I
’
m going to do everything I can to catch the maniac who did this and bring him to justice.
”

Bill Lampi continued to cry until his brain processed my comment, then he stiffened and abruptly quit crying.
“
What do you mean?
”

“
I mean whoever killed your father is going to be sorry. I
’
m after him.
”

“
There was no suggestion of foul play. No one told me Pa was murdered.
”
His voice was shrilling up, hitting high notes.
“
Was Pa murdered?
”

A tall blonde with legs that ended pretty near up to my neck appeared from nowhere and wrapped her arms around Bill. His face slid into her cleavage, which was monumental. All I could think was, wait till Cora Mae gets a load of this. Cat fight for sure.

She turned to me.
“
I
’
m Bill
’
s wife, and I want to know what you think you
’
re doing?
”
In spite of a soft southern lilt, she managed to give the words a frosty northern edge.

Friendly would not be the word that came to mind if I had to describe her.
“
Just offering my condolences to the family,
”
I said.

“
Oh, Barb,
”
Bill
’
s voice was muffled down in the valley. He raised his head and bellowed,
“
She says Pa was murdered.
”

The room went dead quiet, starting with the Elma and Waino Latvala corner of the room because that group had been eavesdropping on me all night. It spread like a wave. Waino stuck one finger in his ear and with a turning motion adjusted the volume on his hearing aid.

“
Your pa wasn
’
t murdered, sweetheart,
”
she said, warning me with eyes as cold as icicles.
“
Just an old lady, probably senile, trying to make trouble where there isn
’
t any. Don
’
t you pay any attention.
”

I studied Barb. She was a beaut
y
for around here, if you like obvious dye jobs and makeup plastered on with a trowel. Apparently most of the men in the room did, because I began noticing the entire room was craning one giant neck in our direction, and the men weren
’
t looking at me.

Blaze pushed through the crowded room, scowling as usual, the smell of his cheap cologne swirling around him.

“
Figures you
’
re involved,
”
he said. He took my elbow and moved me away.

Looking back, I saw Barb watching me. If looks could kill, I
’
d be six feet under. Then the voices started up again, louder than before, filling the room with speculation and anticipation. This was bigger than any of them could have ever hoped for. The phone

lines would be burning up tomorrow.

Ed Lacken came by before Blaze could chew me out and asked us to take our seats for the service. I wanted to sit up front because I had a speech to make, but Blaze had a grip on me that I couldn
’
t shake.
“
The front
’
s for family,
”
he said.
“
You sit here.
”
He pointed to an empty seat next to Little Donny. Sitting behind me, Cora Mae swiveled her body in Onni
’
s direction. Kitty took up two seats, her legs spread wide.

Ed Lacken started out by saying what a fine man Chester had been and what a loss to the community. Then he asked if anyone wanted to say a piece. Floyd rose from his seat with his bible and headed up.

Great. A sermon.

“
Chester was a God-fearing, law-abiding, upstanding family man,
”
he thundered.
“
And we should all be proud we got to know him.
”

As far as I knew, Chester hadn
’
t been to church once in his whole life. If he had a relationship at all with God, he kept it to himself. As far as law-abiding went, he made moonshine in his cellar and sold it to the neighbors, and spit on the federal government and its interfering ways just like the rest of us. I wasn
’
t sure about the family man part; Floyd may have got that right.

Floyd paused with an arm raised to the heavens and shouted to the funeral director.
“
How much time I got to say my piece?
”

“
Whatever you need.
”
Ed shouted back at him because everyone knows what a defective hearing aid Floyd wears. Personally I think if he
’
d remember to change the batteries, he
’
d be fine.

Floyd blah-blahed until I feared he
’
d never shut up, but eventually he sat down with a winded huff.

I glanced over my shoulder searching for Blaze. Cora Mae and Kitty turned around to see what I was looking at. Blaze, standing in the doorway, seemed in deep conversation with someone in the hall so I trotted up to the front.

“
I didn
’
t know Chester all that well,
”
I began. I needed to talk fast to get it out before Raging Bull could react. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him snorting his way down the aisle.
“
But I know he didn
’
t deserve what he got, and I know he wasn
’
t shot with God
’
s gold bullet like Floyd thinks. He …
”

“
… will be sorely missed,
”
Blaze finished for me, arriving at my side.

“
I
’
m not quite done,
”
I whispered to him.

Blaze grinned out at the crowd. Through clenched teeth he said,
“
Ma, you
’
re done.
”

“
Thank you,
”
I said to the crowd and walked back to my seat as gracefully as possible considering Blaze
’
s arm grip.

“
That sure was a fine funeral,
”
I said after the service as Blaze helped me into my coat. Everyone was milling around drinking coffee and eating ginger cookies.
“
I
’
d like to stay a little longer.
”

“
I
’
m putting you out in the truck while I round up your partners in crime. Thanks to you I
’
ll be working overtime tonight.
”

“
Doing what?
”

“
Damage control.
”

Blaze found Cora Mae and Kitty, loaded them into the truck, and planted himself well away from the side of the truck until I pulled onto the road. He didn
’
t say a word about my driving, which was a relief.

“
Is his hand on his gun?
”
Cora Mae asked, squinting to see in the dark.
“
He looks like he
’
s ready to draw and fire.
”

I leaned around Cora Mae to take a look.
“
Showing off, I guess.
”
Leaning back I said,
“
I didn
’
t get to talk to Bill Lampi long enough to find out anything. Blaze comes along every time I
’
m getting somewhere and ruins it. Did you get a load of Bill
’
s wife?
”

“
Sure did,
”
Cora Mae said.
“
She
’
s wearing falsies. I
’
m sure of it.
”