He’d probably transfer his loyalty to anyone who fed him.
Mr. Hazelthorne was a phlegmatic, red-eyed man. He had obviously been crying, but was otherwise stoic. I introduced myself and took him back to see Mother.
“Nice dog,” he said. “Betty Lou always fancied little dogs.”
I assumed Betty Lou was Mrs. Hazelthorne. When she saw her red-eyed husband, she grew weepy herself. I had to leave the room. I’m so not cut out for this kind of work. I wandered off to the chapel where services are sometimes held.
The chapel is very traditional, bordering on old-fashioned. It’s what people expect. Burgundy carpeting and dark wood. Seating on both sides with a wide center aisle. The benches look like standard pews, but the pieces come apart. The size can be adjusted. It’s supposed to be easy, and taking the things apart really is, but Harry and Walter need about an hour with a rubber mallet to put them back together. Up front is a platform with machinery hidden by drapery. Coffins come in on rollers and then are raised into position. The sound system is new, too. Mother sank a bunch of money into the place before the economy tanked. Now everyone wanted funerals on the cheap. She swore they were doing okay, but I worried.
Hephzibah sat at the organ, flipping through the hymnals. “Boy, them Lutherans are a serious bunch. Give me something with a beat any day. Is Betty Lou about ready?”
“I have no idea.” I sat next to her on the bench. “Mother is doing the service arrangements with the husband right now.”
“Good. Betty Lou wanted to see her Clarence one more time.”
“Speaking of, I’m calling Corinne’s aunt tonight. I think she’s almost ready to cross over.”
Hephzibah gave me a look. “Did she you hit you up about solving her murder?”
“I promised to make sure it was being handled. That’s as far as I go.”
“Unh-huh. Sure it is, doll.”
“I don’t think Corinne expects me to solve her murder. She’ll go with you.”
“If you say so. Hey, you haven’t seen an old guy hanging around the dang train station, have you?”
“What kind of old guy?”
“A dead one. Sometimes they get away from me. Lester Jacobsen had a heart attack, and he was supposed to make it to the hospital, but he didn’t. I heard a rumor that he’s wandering the rails.”
I was pretty sure I had seen him twice. “Any idea what he looks like?”
“Little guy. Bushy mustache. Lots of white hair.”
“I saw him. He asked me about his mother, which I thought was weird.”
“Sometimes people don’t know they’re dead and they get confused. If you see Lester, try to hang on to him. I’m afraid he’s gonna be demon chow if I can’t locate him soon.”
“...and this is where we hold services, unless you have another location in mind,” Mother said, leading Clarence Hazelthorne into the chapel.
He looked around. “This will be fine. Betty Lou would like it here.”
“Oh, I do, Clarence. I do.” Mrs. Hazelthorne clasped her hands together.
“I’m not sure about the urn,” he said. “I think the brass might be nice and shiny over the mantle.”
“Trust me,” Mother said firmly. “Pewter is the only way to go. May I make some hymn suggestions?”
I stayed out of the way until Mother had safely guided Mr. Hazelthorne through the arrangements Mrs. Hazelthorne had chosen. He shuffled out the door.
After a few sniffles and some hand-wringing, Mrs. Hazelthorne went meekly with Hephzibah. They simply joined hands, took a step, and vanished. A little puff of air blew past my face. I’m not sure what I expected. Maybe smoke and a flash of light? Angels singing? Maybe a little drama? It was so mundane. Hands. Step. Gone.
Goodbye, Betty Lou.
Mother beamed at me. “We have so much to discuss,” she said. “I’ll make the French vanilla coffee.”
I followed her down to the little kitchenette in the employee section. It was very quiet, with Harry and Walter both gone. When the place is
Mr. Hazelthorne was a phlegmatic, red-eyed man. He had obviously been crying, but was otherwise stoic. I introduced myself and took him back to see Mother.
“Nice dog,” he said. “Betty Lou always fancied little dogs.”
I assumed Betty Lou was Mrs. Hazelthorne. When she saw her red-eyed husband, she grew weepy herself. I had to leave the room. I’m so not cut out for this kind of work. I wandered off to the chapel where services are sometimes held.
The chapel is very traditional, bordering on old-fashioned. It’s what people expect. Burgundy carpeting and dark wood. Seating on both sides with a wide center aisle. The benches look like standard pews, but the pieces come apart. The size can be adjusted. It’s supposed to be easy, and taking the things apart really is, but Harry and Walter need about an hour with a rubber mallet to put them back together. Up front is a platform with machinery hidden by drapery. Coffins come in on rollers and then are raised into position. The sound system is new, too. Mother sank a bunch of money into the place before the economy tanked. Now everyone wanted funerals on the cheap. She swore they were doing okay, but I worried.
Hephzibah sat at the organ, flipping through the hymnals. “Boy, them Lutherans are a serious bunch. Give me something with a beat any day. Is Betty Lou about ready?”
“I have no idea.” I sat next to her on the bench. “Mother is doing the service arrangements with the husband right now.”
“Good. Betty Lou wanted to see her Clarence one more time.”
“Speaking of, I’m calling Corinne’s aunt tonight. I think she’s almost ready to cross over.”
Hephzibah gave me a look. “Did she you hit you up about solving her murder?”
“I promised to make sure it was being handled. That’s as far as I go.”
“Unh-huh. Sure it is, doll.”
“I don’t think Corinne expects me to solve her murder. She’ll go with you.”
“If you say so. Hey, you haven’t seen an old guy hanging around the dang train station, have you?”
“What kind of old guy?”
“A dead one. Sometimes they get away from me. Lester Jacobsen had a heart attack, and he was supposed to make it to the hospital, but he didn’t. I heard a rumor that he’s wandering the rails.”
I was pretty sure I had seen him twice. “Any idea what he looks like?”
“Little guy. Bushy mustache. Lots of white hair.”
“I saw him. He asked me about his mother, which I thought was weird.”
“Sometimes people don’t know they’re dead and they get confused. If you see Lester, try to hang on to him. I’m afraid he’s gonna be demon chow if I can’t locate him soon.”
“...and this is where we hold services, unless you have another location in mind,” Mother said, leading Clarence Hazelthorne into the chapel.
He looked around. “This will be fine. Betty Lou would like it here.”
“Oh, I do, Clarence. I do.” Mrs. Hazelthorne clasped her hands together.
“I’m not sure about the urn,” he said. “I think the brass might be nice and shiny over the mantle.”
“Trust me,” Mother said firmly. “Pewter is the only way to go. May I make some hymn suggestions?”
I stayed out of the way until Mother had safely guided Mr. Hazelthorne through the arrangements Mrs. Hazelthorne had chosen. He shuffled out the door.
After a few sniffles and some hand-wringing, Mrs. Hazelthorne went meekly with Hephzibah. They simply joined hands, took a step, and vanished. A little puff of air blew past my face. I’m not sure what I expected. Maybe smoke and a flash of light? Angels singing? Maybe a little drama? It was so mundane. Hands. Step. Gone.
Goodbye, Betty Lou.
Mother beamed at me. “We have so much to discuss,” she said. “I’ll make the French vanilla coffee.”
I followed her down to the little kitchenette in the employee section. It was very quiet, with Harry and Walter both gone. When the place is
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