The Luck Runs Out (13 page)

Shandy found it necessary to blow his nose before replying. “Not at all. Why should it? A man owes a duty to his profession.”

“You hit it right on the button, Professor. Oh, I know folks call me Harry the Ghoul and make jokes about vampires and bloodsuckers and the rest of it. I’m not claiming we’re all saints in my profession any more than they are in yours, if you’ll forgive me for raking up what’s better buried and forgotten, Balaclava Agricultural College being a fine old institution and a credit to the county ever since the time of Balaclava Buggins, may he rest in peace, as we say in the trade. The undertaking profession has had its share of crooks and fakers same as the institutes of higher learning, much as we try to keep them out, but I will say you won’t find many morticians who won’t at least put up a decent show of respect for the dead and compassion for the bereft at a time when it’s most needed.

“A human body may be no more than a shell, as the preachers say, but it’s a shell that’s maybe come in mighty handy to somebody for a lot of years and it’s entitled to proper handling when it’s outlived its usefulness. I’d say Martha Flackley’s been as useful as anybody, and I want her done right by. Well, there, I guess I’ve spoken my little piece, and now I’ll take myself off.”

Shandy got up to see him to the door. “If it’s not an impertinence, Goulson, I’d like to say that I’m honored you’ve shared your feelings with me. I’ll explain to young Flackley, who I’m sure will be both relieved and gratified, and I’ll also find out from the state police when you can—er—get on with it. Was that what you wanted?”

Goulson fiddled with his black fedora. “As a matter of fact, there was one other thing. You see, we don’t have any horses to draw the hearse. I could maybe talk to some of the boys from Hoddersville or Lumpkin Corners—”

“Never!” said his host. “I’ll tell President Svenson you need two Balaclava Blacks, and I think I can safely promise you’ll get them, though I feel it my duty to warn you that he may insist on driving them himself.”

“Heck, he’s welcome as the flowers in May, and I’m sure Martha would feel the same. Thanks a lot, Professor.”

“Not at all. You understand; of course, that the funeral would have to be held on a day that wouldn’t interfere with the Competition.”

“Naturally. Wouldn’t be anybody left in town to come to it anyway, would there? Think we’re going to take the cup again this year?”

“We’re going to give it the old school try, at any rate. Thanks for dropping by, Goulson. Here, let me get that door for you.”

With a certain amount of handshaking and shoulder slapping, the two men parted. A moment later, Helen was at her husband’s side.

“What was that in aid of?”

“It was a powerful lesson in the folly of pinning labels on one’s fellow humans,” said Shandy. “Helen, if you ever hear me refer to that man as Harry the Ghoul again, I hope you’ll do me a big favor and punch me square in the mouth.”

“
WELL, NATURALLY, YOUR WISH
is my command,” said Helen. “I’ll bop you anytime you give the word, but would you care to explain why?”

Before Shandy could do so the knocker sounded again. “Drat!” he exploded. “This is getting to be like one of those farces where people keep popping in and out.”

“That’s the way it’s been all day long,” Helen sighed. “I’ll go.”

Oddly enough, this caller was one Shandy didn’t mind seeing, since it meant he could clear up Goulson’s business forthwith. Frank Flackley stood there looking like a sheepish cowboy who’d come to town to mingle with the swells, which may have been how he felt.

“I couldn’t find a couple of things that ought to have been in Aunt Martha’s van and thought they might have left ’em back there at the pigpens,” he explained, “so I took a run down to see if I could find ’em. Thought I might as well drop in and say thanks for all you did, Professor, borrowing me that van from the school and getting my tools for me. Looks like Flackley the Farrier will be back in business tomorrow for sure.”

He grinned and slipped off the jacket Helen was offering to take from him. “Thanks, ma’am, that’s kind of you. I guess you must have thought I wasn’t very grateful back there at the house, after you going to so much trouble. See, it was sort of—oh, I don’t know—discouraging, I guess you might say, when they wouldn’t give me back the Flackley van. I mean, I’d got myself all fired up to take over the family business, and now it’s like as if I was starting on any new job that happened along. I guess you folks ain’t much interested in hearing my problems.”

“Of course we are,” Helen said graciously. “Sit down and let me get you a cup of coffee and a piece of pie.”

“Or a drink, if you’d rather,” said Shandy. “As a matter of fact, you came at the perfect time. I have something to discuss with you, and this will save my having to hunt you up tomorrow. Scotch? Bourbon?”

“Beer, thanks, if you got it. What did you have in mind, Professor?”

“Wait a second, I want my wife to hear this, too. I was about to tell her when you arrived.”

Helen was soon back, bringing a tray with a bottle of beer, one of brandy, and some glasses of appropriate sizes. Iduna followed, bearing a plate of crackers and cheese. At sight of her, Flackley rose from the chair he’d just taken and perked up a good deal.

“Happy to meet you, Miss Bjorklund,” he said when introductions had been duly performed. There was no doubt in anyone’s mind that he meant what he said.

“So you’re from the wide-open spaces, like me. We played South Dakota a few times, but to tell you the truth, I forget just where we was at. After a while you get so all them little towns look alike to you. Don’t s’pose you ever happened to catch our show, Rudy’s Rough Riders?”

Iduna shook her head until the golden curls seemed to shoot out baby sunbeams. “No, I never did. But I’m sure you took lovely care of those poor animals.”

“I done my bit. Are you going to be here long?”

Flackley did a neat bit of footwork and got himself seated on the sofa next to Iduna. Gallantly he raised his glass of beer and clicked it against the infinitesimal tot of brandy she’d allowed herself.

“Here’s looking at you.”

“And that’s no idle statement,” Helen murmured to Peter, as she handed him his brandy. “Is that enough for you, dear?” she added in a normal tone.

“Plenty, thanks. Flackley, what happened to Officer Madigan?” he couldn’t resist asking.

The bearded man grinned, quite unabashed. “Oh, she got relieved from duty. I guess the fuzz checked me out and found out I was no more than what I claimed to be, so they called off the bloodhounds. I don’t blame ’em for being suspicious, a roughneck like me coming out of nowhere, as you might say, just when Aunt Martha—” his voice faded.

“Mr. Flackley, I just can’t tell you how awful we feel about your aunt,” Iduna put in. “To think that last night this time she was sitting right where you are now!”

Flackley shifted as if the idea made him uncomfortable, but somehow managed to wind up closer to Iduna. “Yeah, I guess I still haven’t quite taken it in. I didn’t even know Aunt Martha till I got here. I guess she and my folks used to write back and forth sometimes, but you know how kids are, I never paid no attention. Then I struck out on my own, and then my folks died and I just sort of lost track of the family till the rodeo busted up and I took this notion to come back east. You have to admit it looks sort of funny, me coming here just when I did, and if you was to ask me why I done it, I couldn’t tell you. It plain hit me between the eyes, I got to go back, and I got on the bus and come. Almost as if it was meant to be, or somethin’. Not that I take any stock in that kind of stuff,” he added hastily.

“You’re right about Aunt Martha bein’ a lovely lady, though. I
am
goin’ to miss her. I been a rolling stone too long.”

He inched yet closer. “That’s a real nice house, out there at Forgery Point, but it gets lonesome in the evenings with nobody around. To tell you the plain truth, I didn’t really have to come down here after them tools tonight, I just couldn’t stand sitting there by myself thinkin’ about what happened. Not that I didn’t mean what I said about being grateful to you, Professor.”

“Of course,” said Shandy, “I understand. While we’re on the subject of your aunt, I suppose I might as well get our bit of business off my chest. It’s about Miss Flackley’s funeral.”

“Oh yeah. I been wonderin’ what I ought to do about that.”

“That’s what I wanted to tell you. Actually, you don’t have to do anything whatever. Our local undertaker, Harry Goulson, was here not fifteen minutes ago, offering to handle the whole thing at no charge to you or to her estate.”

“Huh? How come?”

“Essentially because the Goulsons have always buried the Flackleys, and he promised his father he’d continue the old custom. Goulson wants to use the old horse-drawn hearse that was last used for her father’s funeral. I think it’s damned decent of the man,” Shandy added in rather a fierce tone.

“Yeah,” Flackley replied thoughtfully. “Yeah, it sure is. You mean the whole thing, coffin, flowers, and all?”

“So I gathered. If I may say so, I think you couldn’t do better than take Goulson up on his offer and trust him to do everything the way your Aunt Martha would have wanted it.”

“This Goulson, what sort of a guy is he?”

“One of the best.”

“I meant is he old, young, middle-aged? Good-looker? Snappy dresser? Smooth line of talk?”

Shandy rubbed his chin. “As to age, I’d say he was more or less a contemporary of your aunt. He has an agreeable appearance and personality. Wouldn’t you say so, Helen?”

“Mr. Goulson is a very pleasant man. Everyone seems to like him. Being a snappy dresser wouldn’t be exactly appropriate in a man of his profession, but he always looks presentable.”

“Married, I suppose?”

“Yes, and a grandfather several times over. I’m slightly acquainted with his wife. She’s president of the garden club.”

“I figured. Well, what do you know?”

The question seemed to be rhetorical. Flackley stared into the fire for some moments without speaking. Then he said softly, “There had to be some reason why she stayed single all her life. Aunt Martha must have been real pretty when she was young. What the heck, no reason for me to pass judgment, is there?”

“I don’t think I follow you, Flackley,” said Shandy in that special tone of voice his students strove to avoid hearing.

“Well, Professor, seems plain enough to me. What would you think if you was in my place?”

“I’d think a decent man was trying to do a decent thing.”

“Isn’t that just what I’m trying to say? Sure, Professor, you can tell this Mr. Goulson I’d be much obliged and for him to let me know what he wants me to do when the time comes. I guess he’ll know how to go about the paper work, or whatever. The police have got her how, haven’t they?”

“Yes, they have. I’ll explain the matter to them in the morning and let Goulson take it from there.”

“That’s mighty nice of you, Professor. I appreciate it. Look, I better be gettin’ back. I’d hate to be lost among them Seven Forks late at night. Thanks for the beer, Miz Shandy. And it sure was nice meetin’ you, Miss Bjorklund. Be seein’ you again, I hope.”

“I shouldn’t be surprised.”

Iduna gave her dimpled hand in farewell and it was a moot question whether Flackley meant to give it back. Eventually, however, he wrenched himself free, buttoned up the handsome leather jacket he’d worn against the chill of the night, and went out to the borrowed van.

“What was he trying to get at about Miss Flackley’s having had an affair with Goulson?” Shandy sputtered. “Stranger things have happened,” said his wife, “though personally I can’t envision a lover’s embalming his old sweetheart as a farewell gesture.”

“It wouldn’t seem right somehow,” Iduna added. “No, it damned well wouldn’t, and I don’t believe it. I only hope Flackley doesn’t go sprinkling hints around.”

“Where would he sprinkle them?” said Helen. “He doesn’t know anybody in this area.”

“How long do you think it’s going to take that chap to get acquainted?”

“He does seem a friendly type,” she agreed. “Iduna, I have a sneaky feeling you’ve just acquired another fan. Think you could settle a roving cowboy?”

“I’ve settled a few in my time,” the guest replied with a saucy toss of her curls. “Well, if you’ll excuse me, I think I’m ready to call it a day.”

“I move we all turn in before anybody else decides to come visiting,” said Helen. “Give me that tray, Iduna, and go on upstairs. You deserve the bathroom first after the work you’ve done. At least I’m glad Flackley didn’t make any fuss about the funeral. Personally I think it’s a lovely thing for Mr. Goulson to do.”

“So do I, and I can’t see why Flackley couldn’t accept it as such. I’m going to see the President first thing in the morning about the horses.”

“I think Miss Flackley would have liked one of them to be Loki,” said Helen. “She had a special soft spot for him, I believe.”

“Helen, you appear to be the only person in the world who knew anything at all about Miss Flackley, and you only met her a couple of days ago.”

“Yes, and it positively breaks my heart that I’ll never get a chance to know her any better. Oh, Peter, such a dreadful waste of a genuinely good life! Honestly, I’ve never thought of myself as a vindictive woman, but if I ever got my hands on whoever stuffed her into that mash feeder, I’d—well, I don’t know what I’d do, but it would be something I’d no doubt be ashamed of for the rest of my life, so I hope I never get the chance. Give me a kiss and let’s go to bed. I need to get my mind on something pleasant for a change.”

T
HE FOLLOWING MORNING, SHANDY
slept a good deal longer than he’d meant to. A smell of fresh-brewed coffee and a sound of gentle womanly voices from belowstairs gave him a sense of well-being until he recalled that his first duty of the day must be to beard Thorkjeld Svenson on the delicate subject of Goulson’s using the college horses, and that his next would no doubt be at least equally obnoxious.

He got up and went to the window for the innocent purpose of seeing what sort of day it was, and his eye alit on two ladies in earnest conference down in the Crescent. They were Lorene McSpee and Mirelle Feldster. At that point, he pondered the wisdom of going back to bed and hiding under the covers, but Shandy was no poltroon. He shaved, took a shower, put on a plaid shirt of somber hues and a pair of work pants, and went to face whatever must be faced.