Catharine Bramkamp - Real Estate Diva 05 - A 380 Degree View (17 page)

“Because they were old.”

“I thought they were younger than you.” I blurted out, which demonstrates why I should not operate my life before a good amount of caffeine is delivered into my system.

Prue ignored me and gestured to the refrigerator.  “Get out the dozen eggs and we’ll boil them up right now. I’m bringing eggs to the funeral service.”

“Which is?”

“Tomorrow.  The church had an opening.” 

“Difficult to schedule funerals.” I pulled the eggs out of the dark refrigerator. “Death can be so last minute.”

“You have no idea.”

              “Whose funeral?”  Ben blinked and automatically glanced at the espresso maker.  I pulled it off the gas and poured three cups then refilled it so we could do it again.

“Sarah Miller’s grandparents.  Suzanne called all the right people so the girl will be taken care of. They can’t reach the daughter, the lines are iffy on the Ridge and she may not have a real phone at any rate.”

“Most of us just use our cells.” I said, a small defense of Sarah’s mother.

Ben emptied his mug of coffee and held it out for more.

“Not yet.”

I loaded the eggs into a pan with water and set that on the stove while the second round of coffee was percolating.

I looked out the window while I waited for water to boil, I knew enough not to watch the pot.  Outside about five inches of snow glittered in the growing morning light.  Cars came down the street slowly, chains clanking, clanking.  The outside was muffled in cotton. The whole world looks so pristine before the first shovel takes to the driveway, before the first anxious path is cleared to the car.  Snow is so lovely in those first precious minutes before we have to get organized and figure out how to get to work.  But in this minute, there was a soft peace all around us.

“Do you think they made up?”   I asked. 

“Yes,” Ben yawned. “About as well as we made up.”

Chapter
Seventeen

The hearse blocked the whole street.  Neighbors who in the past just nodded to Sarah without saying anything more, helped direct traffic and explain to the drivers of two trapped cars that it will only be a another minute or so.  The trapped drivers, neighbors as well, abandon their cars to watch, their feet getting soaked in the slushy road snow.

Scott started out by just holding Sarah’s hand. He felt it was an important job, and he was right. As a gurney loaded with a black bag pushed through the front door, Sarah cried and sagged against him.  Scott held her close, his arm around her, his other hand steadying her as best he could. It was cold, but he knew she was colder inside than outside.

Hell of a thing. He wished he didn’t know exactly how she felt.

The second bag was rolled out, Suzanne Chatterbox following close behind.

“Here.” She handed Sarah a list; bullet points for emphasis, many items already check off and completed.

“I called most of the Brotherhood.  You don’t need to worry about food for the service, just come at two o’clock.”

“They didn’t want a service or anything.” Sarah said faintly.

“Nonsense, the service isn’t for them anyway.” Suzanne said firmly.  “Do you want to call your mother or should I have Maria Johnson continue to call?”

“That would be good.”  Sarah’s voice was small and faint.

Finally Suzanne turned her attention to Scott.  “Here is your copy.”  She thrust the list at him and he took his obediently.  Suzanne took in the two of them, Sarah leaned against Scott who, for the first time, looked like an adult and able to handle his responsibilities.

“Take care of her.” Suzanne instructed.  “Remember, the funeral is tomorrow at two o’clock, Methodist Church.”

“They were Baptist.” Sarah’s voice was a little stronger.

“The Baptist minister will be there.” Suzanne checked another list. “The Methodist church is easier to get to in this weather.”

Scott’s phone beeped. Suzanne looked at him disapprovingly and she marched off.

“That was the Northern Queen.  They have power.”

As if in answer, the living room lights in the house flared on.

He squeezed her hand and gently pushed her to an upright position.  “Do you want to stay here?”

She took a deep breath. There was nothing left to do but weep.  She squinted at the house and considered her position.  She squared her shoulders and marched back inside.  She flipped off the lights avoiding the two chairs.  She found her purse and her keys, slipped on her grandfather’s galoshes and walked back outside to Scott.

“I’ll come to your place.”

Prue took an envelope from Maria Johnson who had her cell phone glued to her ear and couldn’t stay for coffee.  She just waved and moved on intent on whatever Brotherhood task she’d been assigned.

I made up another batch of coffee for Carrie and Patrick. They emerged on cue, Patrick looking adorably disheveled and Carrie just looking adorable because that is her job.

She still wore her ring. I could shine a flashlight through it and light up both our kitchen and the kitchen across the street. So the behemoth diamond was still with her.  At least all was well in that department. 

Prue made steel cut oatmeal on the aforementioned gas stove, because everyone knows to buy a house with a gas stove in case of a power failure. 

I asked the obvious question in order to banish the elephant in the room.

“What are you going to do about Carrie’s parents?”

Patrick took a sip of his coffee, grimaced.  Carrie pushed the carton of milk towards him and he glanced at the label, and then poured it into his cup.

  “Clearly, we can’t ignore them.  So I called them yesterday and invited them to participate in the wedding, you know fully as the bride’s parents, and gave them an estimate of what their half would cost. Just the rough numbers, we haven’t firmed things up with the caterer yet.”

“Who’s catering?”

“Thomas Keller, he’s doing it as a favor to Dad, but I added in what he normally would charge, if you could get him to do it at all.”

“Of course.” Thomas Keller was such a famous chef I was surprised he even had time to cook anymore.

“What did they say when explained the price of being part of the family?”

Carrie grinned.  “Patrick was wonderful!  There was this big silence, so Patrick talked about how much he respected their desire to be part of the family and be full partners in the wedding process, and of course they should be in the wedding and Patrick could help Dad buy a tux because the rentals never fit quite right.”

“Do you think that will do it?”

“Not at all.”  Patrick drank up his doctored coffee.  “So I brought up our own family tradition: if the groom’s family pays for the wedding, then the bride’s family pays for the honeymoon.”

“You’re the first to be married in your family,” I pointed out to Patrick.

Carrie nodded.  “They don’t know that.  So we began making suggestions for honeymoon destinations, like Istanbul or to the Galapagos or I suggested a cruise to Easter Island on a private yacht.              

“What did they say?”

“Nothing. They got off the phone in a hurry.”

“It’s not the end.”

“We know, but we won a battle, and that’s important.” 

Once we ate, and washed up with cold water, the question was, what can be accomplished with no electricity?  I could make phone calls, and intended to, but my unfortunate habit was to shower and be clean before I worked, and I felt grimy and gritty and unwashed. I was not taking a cold shower. What Prue did not mention is that even though the water heater is gas, the pilot light is electric.

“Poor Sarah.” Prue finished rinsing the last oatmeal bowl and handed the chilly bowl to me to dry.

“Will she be okay?”

“Yes, but she is such a lost soul.”

We stood around while Patrick called the airport.  “They have electricity, I’ll need to leave.”

We waved him away. He opted to shower at home.

Just when I was considering which book to read, we were interrupted by another call.

“Who?”  She paused then handed the phone to me.

“Have you seen Mattie Timmons?”  It was Maria Johnson, who would run out of cell charge soon if she wasn’t more careful with her calls.

“Why would I know where Mattie Timmons is?” I responded.

“We saw you talking with her at the funeral, then at Penny’s open house.” Maria said, matter-of-factly.  “Have you seen her lately?”

“As in yesterday?”

“Yes.  Her babysitter called and Mattie hasn’t picked up the children. Of course the phone isn’t working. School is closed, but still, three more children is a lot more children.”

“I’m not taking the kids.” I defended myself immediately.

She paused. Ha! I knew it. I stood my ground.  “I have to work with Sarah to figure out her house plans.” I offered, just so she knew I was contributing to the general community effort.

“I’ll call Michelle.” Maria said after a minute or two. 

“Thanks for letting us know.” I hung up the phone.              “We should visit Mattie Timmons.”  

Prue stayed home. I gave her the job of sitting by the phone in case anyone called. What an antiquated concept, sit by the phone. The power came on just as the three of us left. I felt we were abandoning Prue but she waved us away. “Just come back quickly. I want a hot shower.”

              The drive was slow. We silently regarded the white and pink dogwood, once confident of spring, now weighted down by wet snow.

“Good thing it snowed after the house tour.” Ben remarked.

The house looked the same.  I could see the wood ripple under the eaves and grain of inexpensive lumber emerging from under an increasingly faded coat of paint.

“Not the best side of town.” Carrie concluded.

“No, but she was keeping it together.”

Carrie squinted at the shabby house. “Wasn’t her husband in construction?”

“Not so you could tell.” Ben confirmed.

“She works at a dentist office.” I remembered Danny told me she had a job but still bled him dry for alimony anyway.  His passing did not make her life any easier. It was enough to drive a woman to murder.

“What if she’s dangerous?”

“Oh please, with three kids?”  Carrie brushed past me and banged on the door.

My phone buzzed, on cue. I glanced down. It was my mother. If she wanted to call the house, she could. Then I realized Mom probably had called the house and Prue, true to her name Prudence, had not picked up. My grandmother did not have anything as high tech as caller ID on her wall mounted princess phone, so how she knew not to answer her daughter’s calls was nothing short of voodoo magic. I shook my head in awe of my grandmother, and let my mother go to voice mail.

“Hello!  Anyone home!”  Carrie banged the door again then pushed it open.

“You can’t.” I started to say, just walk in, but changed my mind. Apparenly she can just walk in. Ben and I trailed behind Carrie.

The short hall branched to a kitchen on the right and the living room on the left.  I remembered the long sliding glass doors from the living room led to the back yard.  I glanced at the dimly lit yard.  Ben flipped on the kitchen lights and they blazed in white-hot fluorescent splendor.  A second later the TV in the living room popped on, three lights down the hall turned on.

I felt like primitive man, look fire!  Look moving pictures!

“Mattie!” I called. “The power’s on.” Just in case she was hiding in her bathroom and needed to use her curling iron for a hair styling emergency.

“Mattie!”  I called again.  Ben walked to the back of the house and quickly returned. I held my breath for a minute; I do not have good luck with master bedrooms and bodies.

“Not there.”

I let my breath out.  I turned towards the living room. There was no one in the living room to appreciate the morning news (top story, power outages across the tri -county area).  Ben picked up the remote and snapped off the TV.  I glanced around.  I saw a few toys, a video game consol on top of the TV, a DVD player. I was surprised the TV wasn’t a new flat panel model. People may not be able to pay rent, but they manage to pay installments on what is really important, a big screen.  Not Mattie.  I kind of admired her for holding out.

“What’s that in the back yard?”  Carrie asked.

“A swing set. ” I replied. “Toys.”

I glanced out the window.  A lump the size of a person was awkwardly positioned on the back lawn. It was covered by an inch of snow.  The back outdoor lights cast a yellow glow on the figure, making it look almost human.

              It was human.

“Oh crap.” I said out loud.

“Better call your friend.” Ben said.

              Tom Marten made good time.

“I suppose you are here under the auspicious of the Brotherhood?”  He was justifiably suspicious. 

“This or take the kids.”

He tucked his notebook back into his jacket pocket. “You chose wisely.” 

Tom didn’t try to keep us away, but did politely ask us not to muddy the already muddied and snow covered body and surrounding muddy evidence. I didn’t see why we couldn’t stomp around; kids, animals, and the weather had already effectively destroyed what was left of the yard.

“The killer could have come in the back or the front.” Tom observed unenthusiastically.  “Shit, and those kids.”  He dragged his hands down his face. 

“The front door was unlocked.” I pointed out helpfully.

“No one locks their front door in this neighborhood.” He kicked at a soggy clump of grass. “Too much trouble to remember to bring along a key. I keep telling people if the door’s not locked, it’s harder to collect insurance if they’re robbed. But they don’t listen. Especially if we went to school together.”             

“She had evidence. She told me.”
I said.

Tom looked at me with a gimlet eye. “She told everyone.”

“Didn’t that bother Lucky or even Penny?”  I asked.

“Debbie was prepared to do something about it, but I don’t know if Mattie ever turned over the evidence. Maybe not.”  The grass clump broke free and he pushed it aside.

“Summer is depending on that CRT.” I pointed out.

“A lot of people are depending on the largess of Lucky, now that he’s gone,” Tom responded.

“Is that bad?”

“I told you, it makes it more complicated.”

If a class action suit was successful, there would be nothing left for the town. Without Lucky’s money, Summer may have to shut down the theater, the Brotherhood wouldn’t be able to afford more books; the police wouldn’t get any more laptops.

It was very complicated indeed.

“Then who?”

Tom squinted at me. “Everybody?”

Mattie did have family; there were people, other than us, or the members of the Brotherhood, who could take over. Tom looked more haggard than usual. I told him so.