Fatal Impulse: A Widow's Web Novel (4 page)

T
he funeral director, a slight man with wire rimmed glasses perched on a hook nose, pulled a large map from behind his desk and spread it out between them. He spoke with a voice, cultivated to sooth those in mourning. “Most of our clients choose to be buried in Bayview Cemetery. Your mother told me over the phone that she did not believe you and Dr. Adams had yet purchased plots?”

Names filled the creased map, so neat and orderly. Andi opened her mouth, struggled for words, aware of his eyes upon her, then shook her head.

"Let's choose a place you can visit whenever you want, a place to go to remember your husband.”

Andi looked down at her hands clasped in her lap. The cluster of diamonds on her left finger reflected the light. Remembering her husband wouldn’t be a problem. Forgetting all he'd done to her might be. She took a deep breath and glanced at the map spread out between them, “How much for a plot?”

“A double plot would be-”

She cleared her throat and asked, “How much for a single?” She'd never worried about money during her marriage, but it had been on her mind since the accident.

Mr. Bolan blinked rapidly behind his round glasses. The clock on the wall ticked away the seconds. “It is traditional for a married couple to have a double plot.”

The thought of a headstone with her name and year of birth on it made her queasy. Martha grasped Andi’s hand and squeezed, then tapped one finger on the map. “He’s right, honey. Double plots are traditional.”

Thoughts tumbled through Andi's mind. What if she remarried? What if she moved back home to Missouri? The silence of the room closed in around her, the only sound was the squeak of leather as her mother fidgeted in her chair. Finally, she nodded.

Martha sighed and Mr. Bolan pressed his thin lips together as he wrote up the contract for the double plot. Andi signed the contract and asked, “What next?”

He centered a printed form on his desk and poised his pen, “We pride ourselves on providing a remembrance service that honors the memory of your loved one. A funeral is, after all, for the living.”

So many of Andi’s memories were locked away in a dark corner of her mind. She and Chad had kept their private lives private. Keeping it private would be her way of honoring his memory. Besides, she couldn't bear for people to know the truth. People would think she was weak, or deserved it.

He asked about surviving family members and where they lived, then asked, “Were there any civic organizations Dr. Adams was involved in?”

“He was a member of a fraternity in college, but I don’t recall the name.” The more questions he asked, the more she realized she didn’t know her husband. She could feel the wiry man’s eyes boring into her. “I’m sorry, I’m drawing a blank.”

He tapped his pen on the desk, then said, “Well, we’ll come back to that. Why don’t you consult with family or friends and then get back to me?”

The whole thing felt surreal. Andi couldn’t believe she was making funeral arrangements for her husband. What would she do? How would she make ends meet? Then it hit her like a ton of bricks. Her eyes widened and she spun to face her mother. "His office. His patients. We need to go by the office.”

Martha nodded as she plucked a tissue from the box on the desk and tucked it into her daughter’s hand. She said, “We can run by there before we go home.”

Mr. Bolan paused for a moment, a small smile hovering, but not quite lighting, on his lips. After a beat, he asked, “Now, about memorials. Many times our clients request that a donation be made to a local charity. Is there a charity you would like to list, perhaps one that Dr. Adams felt strongly about?”

He felt strongly about a lot of things, but the only charity that came to mind was the local animal shelter. Someone abandoned a cat in the neighborhood the previous summer. The lanky orange tabby cat looked like an awkward teenager. Andi fed him, afraid he'd never make it through the harsh Maine winter. Chad hated the cat, which he referred to as “it.” The kitty disappeared just as he’d started to fatten up. Although Chad never admitted to it, she suspected he'd gotten rid of the poor thing.

She took a deep breath, sat up straight in the chair and said, “Yes, as a matter of fact, I think donations to the Buccaneer Bay Animal Shelter instead of flowers would be nice.”

Martha stifled a cough and looked at Andi, eyebrows arched, but didn’t say anything. Mr. Bolan jotted the final notes in his book, then slapped it closed and pushed his chair back. “Might I suggest that you stop at the masonry shop to pick out a stone? We have some brochures with a variety of options available--”

The rest of the morning passed in a fog. Being a widow hadn’t even begun to sink in. Andi floated along on auto-pilot. After they finished with the funeral home and the mason’s, they drove to the south edge of town. They pulled into a small concrete parking lot and Andi stared at the squat red brick building with white columns and black shutters. Chad's receptionist’s yellow Subaru sat alone in the lot.

Martha stepped out of the car. "Did you bring your key?"

Andi shook her head. "I don't have a key." She examined a sheet of copy paper taped to the front door, then read it out loud. "Office closed until further notice due to an emergency."

"Then whose car is that?" Martha slammed the car door harder than necessary.

Andi tugged on the front door and it swung open. "Jennie's. Remember? You met her at the house yesterday."

“So he trusted her and not you?” Martha rolled her eyes. “I always thought he spent too much time at work.”

Andi glanced at her mother, but didn't comment.

Martha followed her daughter into the building. The waiting room, decorated in soothing shades of blue, had an air of relaxed sophistication. Dark blue fabric covered chairs lined the walls. White sponged clouds formed a border along the top of the walls, and a rainbow mural decorated the area blocked off for children. Though Andi had suggested a children’s area, he dismissed it as ridiculous, yet when his receptionist offered to paint the waiting area and surprised him with the clouds and rainbow, he praised it as a brilliant move.

That hadn't surprised her in the least.

The two women followed the sound of Jennie’s voice, and found her sitting in Chad’s brown leather chair in his office, on the telephone with a patient. Her long blonde hair cascaded past her shoulders in loose curls, and her slightly smudged mascara was the only visible imperfection in her cosmetic armor.

Chad’s dental certificate from the University of Missouri-Kansas City hung on the wall directly behind his desk, along with his undergraduate degree from the University of Colorado. A large color photo of him and his fraternity brothers on a ski trip hung on the wall to the right. Several of them had autographed it, and the words “Winter Break 1998” were written in large slanted script in black magic marker at an angle at the top right of the photo. He still talked fondly of his frat brothers, and kept in touch with several of them. They got together for ski trips, and the occasional golf trip. Someone should contact them, but she didn’t even know their names. He referred to them simply as his “brothers.”

His big oak desk looked as if he'd just left it, with the black flat-screen monitor on one side and papers stacked neatly in the chrome in-tray and out-tray. His small, precise doodles in the margin framed his neat handwriting on the blotter. The only personal item on his desk was the chrome business card holder Andi gave him for a birthday gift a few years ago. The room looked as if he might come walking in the door at any moment, ready to handle his patients.

Andi and her mother stood in the doorway until Jennie glanced up with red, puffy eyes. She smiled sadly and nodded a greeting, then murmured, “I’m so sorry.”

Andi nodded again. Her eyes should be puffy like that. But her eyes were dry, so dry they burned. She gestured towards the telephone and said, “Thank you for doing this. I really appreciate it.”

Jennie flipped the notebook closed, then kept her hand on top of it, fingers splayed. “It’s the least I can do. I hope you don’t mind. When I left your house yesterday, I thought about all that you have on your mind, and you don't need to worry about this stuff.” She swiveled in the chair, then pushed to her feet with an exhausted sigh.

“You’re right. I haven’t had time . . .” As Andi's voice trailed off, Martha cleared her throat. The three women stood there, the silence buzzing around them.

Andi motioned to the ski trip picture, "Do you know how to get in touch with Chad's friends from college?"

Jennie nodded and said, “Doctor kept his contacts in his agenda. I'd be glad to send them a letter if you'd like.”

Andi nodded and looked around the office. Thoughts tumbled in her brain, disconnected. Chad handled everything himself. He'd kept all aspects of the business close to the vest. But now, he was gone. And she would have to pick up the pieces.

“Jennie, I know this puts you in a tough position, but can you help wrap things up with the practice? And, of course, I’ll do anything I can to help you get another job.”

“I know. And I appreciate that. I don't what I'm going to do." The last word rose into a whine. She sucked in a shaky breath and closed her eyes for a beat, then produced two business cards. "I went ahead and called our accountant and corporate lawyer. I’m sure they’ll be in touch.”

Andi nodded and rubbed her thumb across the embossed cards. The familiarity in Jennie's voice rubbed her the wrong way, and from the look on her mother's face, it irritated her, too.

She touched her mother's arm. "Come on, Mama. We've got a lot to do."

Martha lowered her chin and stared at the busty blonde for a beat, then turned and marched out of the room with Andi in tow.

As they drove north towards home, Andi considered telling her mother that she suspected Chad of having a fling with his receptionist. She couldn't even elevate it to an affair in her mind. Chad laughed and denied it when she asked him about it, but the thought nagged at her. Still, she didn't want to say it out loud. Saying the words made it seem real, tangible. Besides, her mother hadn't liked Chad and would never let her hear the end of it.

At least the girl would take care of things at the office, which Andi couldn't handle on her own. The practice needed to be closed and the business wrapped up. Maybe there’d be a little money in it.

Money.

Her blood ran cold. She hadn't worked since she waitressed at Pizza Hut back in Missouri. No work experience. No degree. Who would hire her? How would she survive? She swallowed hard. Perhaps it would be possible to sell the business, maybe to a new dentist moving in. Dana would know about that. Andi missed her best friend. She couldn't wait to talk to her.

Just as it had throughout the day, fear niggled at Andi, taunting her. For the hundredth time, she closed her eyes and watched her husband topple into the ocean. Surely it had been an accident. She wanted to believe that, but felt guilty that she'd wished him gone many times.

Martha’s voice roused her from her reverie. As they turned into the subdivision, Martha said, “She seems like a nice girl.”

Andi nodded. “She is.” She stepped on the brakes and signaled as they neared the white, two-story house.

Her mother sighed heavily. “She seems very close to Chad.”

“She is,” Andi repeated.

“Do you think he was ever unfaithful to you?” Mama glanced at her, then added, “It just seems that he spent a lot of late nights at the office, and she’s a pretty girl.”

“She is.” Andi turned into the concrete driveway and stopped in front of the double garage, “And I would be lying if I said I never suspected anything. But it doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Do you trust her to help you close the business?”

Andi put the gearshift in park and turned the engine off. She sat for a moment and took a deep breath, then got out before answering. “The practice needs to be closed. She knows more about it than I do, and I think she’ll do the right thing. So, yes, I trust her.”

Martha swung out of the car. “With the business.”

“Yes,” Andi said, “With the business.”

“You ought to talk to Dana about the business stuff. She’s works for a lawyer, right?” The older woman rounded the front of the sedan, then ambled up the sidewalk, grunting with each step.

“Yes, she does.” Andi trusted her best friend more than anyone. “She’s on vacation right now. I didn’t want to bug her, but I sent her a text that I need to talk to her when she gets back. I’ll ask her before I let Jennie do anything.”

Andi inserted her key in the lock and pushed opened the heavy dark green door. Mama followed her daughter in and said, “I’m glad. Trust Dana. She’ll steer you right.”

Martha followed Andi through the tiled foyer and into the living room. “Have you thought about what you want him to be buried in?”

"They haven't even found him yet." Andi dropped onto the sleek gray couch. "I wonder if I should be out there. I should be, shouldn't I?"

Martha shrugged, "They'll call when they find the body."

"If they find the body."

Martha shook her head. "Think positive, sweetheart."

Andi let her head fall back and closed her eyes. Chad would want to look his best. His appearance and what others thought mattered to him. It seemed like such an odd thing, though, to worry about what a dead person would be wearing for eternity. How long would the clothes last? Would they rot, like his body would? Or did embalming keep the body from rotting? What would he look like if the insurance company questioned whether or not it was an accident and insisted that he be – what was the word they used? Disinterred? – in six months so an autopsy could be performed?