Eggs Benedict Arnold (24 page)

“
You
should
be sorry,
”
sniffed Doogie. He was still
nursing hard feelings. Or maybe he
’
d just felt embarrassed
in front of Sheriff Burney.

“
What I wanted to ask you,
”
said Suzanne,
“
since law
enforcement packed us on our merry way rather hastily last
night, was ... did Bo Becker hang himself?
”

“
What?
”
said Doogie.

“
Because if Becker
did
kill Ozzie, maybe he was over
come with remorse.
”

Doogie folded his arms across his broad chest and stared
at Suzanne with flat eyes.
“
No remorse,
”
he finally said.

“
You don
’
t think Becker murdered Ozzie, do you?
”
said Suzanne.
“
You
’
ve changed your mind, shifted your
paradigm.
”

Sheriff Roy Doogie continued to stare at her. Sometimes
no answer was an answer.

“
And Becker didn
’
t hang himself, either, did he?
”
said
Suzanne, a little excited now.

“
Let
’
s just say we now have parallel investigations,
”
said Doogie.

Suzanne
knew she shouldn
’
t, knew it was probably in
horrible taste, but she just had to talk to George Draper. She
caught him just as he and his assistants slid the casket into
the hearse and slammed the back hatch.

“
George. Mr. Draper,
”
she called.

George Draper stood by the side of his hearse, looking
even more gaunt and haggard than usual.
“
Hello, Suzanne,
”
he said.

Suzanne didn
’
t waste any words.
“
I
’
m assuming you heard about Bo Becker?
”

Draper
’
s face sagged.
“
Of course. Sheriff Doogie
phoned me last night. Roused me out of bed, in fact. I drove
out there immediately, had to see for myself.
”
He shook his
head.
“
Shocking, absolutely shocking.
”

“
So you think Becker was murdered, too,
”
said Suzanne.
“
Not a suicide.
”

That seemed to stun Draper.
“
Well... I. . . yes, I suppose so,
”
he finally stam
m
ere
d.

That was all Suzanne needed to hear.
“
Do you have any
idea what Bo Becker might have been involved in? I mean,
outside of the funeral home?
”

“
Not really,
”
said Draper.
“
Of course, he was mostly Ozzie
’
s assistant. I think Ozzie had been trying to get him into a program to be a morgue assistant.
”

“
When was the last time you saw Becker?
”
asked Suzanne.

Draper scratched his head.
“
He helped with the Ca
rr
-funeral Monday morning, then took off immediately afterward. I never saw him again. Must have ... I don
’
t
know... run into some kind of trouble.
”
He sighed.
“
Obvi
ously
he did.
”

“
But Becker was loading flowers into his car Monday night,
”
said Suzanne.
“
I saw him.
”

George looked stunned.
“
Where?
”

“
At the back door of your funeral home.
”

“
Did you tell Sheriff Doogie about this?
”

“
Of course,
”
said Suzanne.
“
What
I
’
m trying to figure out
is ... why did Becker end up at that deserted cemetery?
”

George Draper stared at her.
“
I don
’
t know.
”

“
Was he supposed to deliver flowers there?
”
asked Suzanne.

Draper blinked.
“
There were a few flowers in the back
seat of Becker
’
s car. I saw them last night. They let me look
inside his car.
”

“
Whose flowers were they?
”

“
I
’
m guessing they might have been from the Carr funeral on Monday,
”
said Draper.

“
They didn
’
t get left at Memorial Cemetery with the body?
”

“
Obviously not,
”
said Draper. He had a look on his face as though someone had screwed up.
“
Must have come back
in the hearse.
”

“
So why would Bo have taken them to that particular
cemetery?
”

“
I don
’
t know,
”
said Draper.
“
He doesn
’
t... he didn
’
t... always listen terribly well.
”

“
What if someone called the funeral home and told him
to take the flowers there?
”
postulated Suzanne.
“
Or left a message to that effect?
”

“
Then he might have done it,
”
said Draper, jingling his
keys nervously.
“
I mean ... it
’
s possible.
”

“
And someone could have followed him,
”
said Suzanne.
“
Or been waiting for him.
”

George made a motion to open the driver
’
s side door. He
was anxious to get going.

“
And drugs were missing from the funeral home?
”
pressed Suzanne.

“
Well . . . yes,
”
said Draper, making a sour face.

“We
don
’
t make a big deal of it. The families prefer to think of
their loved ones as looking quite natural. But to accomplish
that kind of miracle we do employ a rather large arsenal of
chemicals.
”

Jut
as Suzanne was about to climb into her car, Doogie pulled up alongside her. Suzanne pocketed her keys and hurried over to Doogie
’
s driver
’
s side window.

“
I had a feeling you weren
’
t finished with your questions,
”
said Doogie.

“
You
’
re right,
”
Suzanne told him.
“
And I
’
ve got a whop
per of a question for you.
”

“
Shoot,
”
said Doogie.

“
Do you think maybe Bo
’
s killer wasn
’
t after Bo at all? That he was really after George Draper?
”

“
First Driesden, then Draper,
”
mused Doogie.
‘
The thought had crossed my mind.
”

“
Missy
’
s not looking much like a suspect anymore, is she?
”
said Suzanne.

“
Nobody is,
”
grumped Doogie.

“
Maybe,
”
said Suzanne,
“
we should be looking at George Draper. What he might be involved in, if he has any prior
—
”

“
No,
”
interrupted Doogie,
“
I
need to do all that.
You
need to keep your flat little nose out of my investigation.
”

“
What about that funeral home consortium?
”
began Su
zanne.
“
What
’
s their name again ... ?
”

“
Roth Funeral Consortium,
”
supplied Doogie.

“
Could they be involved in something like this?
”

“
No idea.
”

“
Could you contact other law enforcement agencies in
th
e states Roth Consortium is in?
”

“
Why?
”
asked Doogie.

“
See if there have been any similar murders of funeral home directors?
”

“
That ain
’
t a bad idea,
”
allowed Doogie.

On
her way back to the Cackleberry Club, Suzanne had another small brainstorm.
Who owns the deserted church and graveyard, anyway?

If the property was in Deer County, she
’
d have to run
all the way over to Cornucopia to dig through records. But
if the church was situated in Logan County . . . well, then
she might be able to pull up that infor
m
at
ion at the county
courthouse.

Five minutes later, Suzanne parked in front of the red
brick building, sped up the sidewalk, then hurried down a linoleum-tiled hallway that smelled faintly of disinfectant.

At the battered wooden desk that stretched ten feet across, a barrier that separated the record keepers from the record seekers, Suzanne ran into Nadine Carr. Nadine seemed to be in the middle of filing papers related to her husband
’
s death. Suzanne
’
s heart went out to the poor woman. It wasn
’
t so long ago that she
’
d had to deal with the same heartbreaking tasks.

“
I
’
m so sorry about your husband,
”
Suzanne told her.
“
My sincere condolences.
”
Nadine
’
s husband, Julian, had been a soft-spoken man who
’
d eaten at the Cackleberry
Club a couple of times. Purchased books at the Book Nook,
too. On World War
II
and the Korean War.