Read Online The Skeleton Takes a Bow (A Family Skeleton Mystery) by Leigh Perry - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Leigh Perry
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McQuaid and we found an empty pew to sit in together.
None of us talked much—I gathered none of the others had known Patty Craft that well, and of course I’d never even met her. Soon enough the music started playing and the funeral director asked us to stand.
Charles was one of the pallbearers, and the coffin was followed by the saddest funeral party I’d ever seen: one lone woman, looking frazzled and confused in a dress that I guessed had been bought specifically for the funeral. She had to be the dead woman’s sister Phoebe, though as far as I could tell, she looked nothing like her sister. There was a blown-up photo of Patty Craft on a stand by the coffin, and the late adjunct’s features had been so delicate that, especially with her short, asymmetric haircut, she looked almost elfin.
The service was given by a pastor who clearly hadn’t known the deceased and who either hadn’t bothered or been able to find out enough about her. His words sounded as if they’d been cribbed from a rack of sympathy cards.
At least Charles was able to do his friend proud with his eulogy, speaking about her devotion to academia, her gifts as a teacher, and the courage with which she faced death. Probably everybody in that room knew that there was a good chance that the woman had killed herself, but she still sounded heroic when Charles pointed out how hard she’d worked to keep her job and to stay current with research in her field. Since I hadn’t really known her, I hadn’t expected to need the package of tissues in my purse, but I ended up using several and sharing the rest with my colleagues.
At the end of the services, the funeral director announced that there would be no graveside service, because the remains were being cremated according to the wishes of the deceased, and invited us to join the family for refreshments in the room next door.
The receiving line was just the sister Phoebe with Charles staying by her side to introduce those people he knew. I offered my condolences without explaining that I hadn’t even met the deceased. I’d have left after that, but I was Charles’s ride and he didn’t look as if he was going to be leaving anytime soon.
So I made a beeline for the refreshment table. There’s something about awkward social situations that makes me crave salty snacks and sweets. At least eating chips and dip and fudge brownies gave me something to do with my hands.
I joined a couple of McQuaid adjuncts, who introduced me to a trio of adjuncts from other New England colleges. We all nodded cordially. There was no secret handshake for adjuncts, but we generally tried to play nice because chances were that sometime over the course of our careers, we’d be sharing the adjunct lifestyle at the same college.
We talked a little shop, and eventually Charles finished with his self-appointed duties and joined us. He knew all the adjuncts present—he’d been making the rounds even longer than I had and was better at maintaining networks.
After he made sure everybody had been introduced, a sharp-nosed brunette named Dolores said, “Did Bert not even show up? I know he and Patty broke up, but they lived together for, what, three years? The least he could do was show up at her funeral. Or did he not know she’d died?”
“I can’t say for sure,” Charles said, “but I did my best to inform him. I left a voice-mail message for him and sent an e-mail, but he never responded. I understand he’s been job hunting, and he may have relocated, so perhaps my contact information is out of date. I haven’t attempted to stay in touch with him.”
I was surprised by that last comment. Charles stayed in touch with everybody—he’d probably keep in touch with Sara if they ever worked for different universities. For him to drop a colleague told me that the guy must be a real loser. Or maybe he was one of the fair-weather friends who’d deserted Patty Craft when she became ill.
“That’s right—I forgot
None of us talked much—I gathered none of the others had known Patty Craft that well, and of course I’d never even met her. Soon enough the music started playing and the funeral director asked us to stand.
Charles was one of the pallbearers, and the coffin was followed by the saddest funeral party I’d ever seen: one lone woman, looking frazzled and confused in a dress that I guessed had been bought specifically for the funeral. She had to be the dead woman’s sister Phoebe, though as far as I could tell, she looked nothing like her sister. There was a blown-up photo of Patty Craft on a stand by the coffin, and the late adjunct’s features had been so delicate that, especially with her short, asymmetric haircut, she looked almost elfin.
The service was given by a pastor who clearly hadn’t known the deceased and who either hadn’t bothered or been able to find out enough about her. His words sounded as if they’d been cribbed from a rack of sympathy cards.
At least Charles was able to do his friend proud with his eulogy, speaking about her devotion to academia, her gifts as a teacher, and the courage with which she faced death. Probably everybody in that room knew that there was a good chance that the woman had killed herself, but she still sounded heroic when Charles pointed out how hard she’d worked to keep her job and to stay current with research in her field. Since I hadn’t really known her, I hadn’t expected to need the package of tissues in my purse, but I ended up using several and sharing the rest with my colleagues.
At the end of the services, the funeral director announced that there would be no graveside service, because the remains were being cremated according to the wishes of the deceased, and invited us to join the family for refreshments in the room next door.
The receiving line was just the sister Phoebe with Charles staying by her side to introduce those people he knew. I offered my condolences without explaining that I hadn’t even met the deceased. I’d have left after that, but I was Charles’s ride and he didn’t look as if he was going to be leaving anytime soon.
So I made a beeline for the refreshment table. There’s something about awkward social situations that makes me crave salty snacks and sweets. At least eating chips and dip and fudge brownies gave me something to do with my hands.
I joined a couple of McQuaid adjuncts, who introduced me to a trio of adjuncts from other New England colleges. We all nodded cordially. There was no secret handshake for adjuncts, but we generally tried to play nice because chances were that sometime over the course of our careers, we’d be sharing the adjunct lifestyle at the same college.
We talked a little shop, and eventually Charles finished with his self-appointed duties and joined us. He knew all the adjuncts present—he’d been making the rounds even longer than I had and was better at maintaining networks.
After he made sure everybody had been introduced, a sharp-nosed brunette named Dolores said, “Did Bert not even show up? I know he and Patty broke up, but they lived together for, what, three years? The least he could do was show up at her funeral. Or did he not know she’d died?”
“I can’t say for sure,” Charles said, “but I did my best to inform him. I left a voice-mail message for him and sent an e-mail, but he never responded. I understand he’s been job hunting, and he may have relocated, so perhaps my contact information is out of date. I haven’t attempted to stay in touch with him.”
I was surprised by that last comment. Charles stayed in touch with everybody—he’d probably keep in touch with Sara if they ever worked for different universities. For him to drop a colleague told me that the guy must be a real loser. Or maybe he was one of the fair-weather friends who’d deserted Patty Craft when she became ill.
“That’s right—I forgot
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