Fran Rizer - Callie Parrish 05 - Mother Hubbard Has a Corpse in the Cupboard (21 page)

“Not necessary. Our people have always dug our graves by hand. The islanders will do it out of respect for Maum. I’ll add some gifts for Paw Paw, too, before Maum’s service. Come on. Let’s go back to the house. I wouldn’t mind being here after dark, but it might bother you.”

“Rizzie, if I work with dead people all the time, why would I be scared of a cemetery?”

“Never know.”

As we walked, I asked, “Are you sure you don’t want Middleton’s to open the grave? You know we can take care of everything.”

“I don’t need
everything
. We’ve always buried our own, and that’s what Maum would want, but like I said, I do want her embalmed. I bought the red outfit, and I want you to dress her and polish her nails to match. Our men sometimes build wooden coffins for our people, but I picked one at Middleton’s. I want Maum brought to the house in her casket tomorrow. Our people will spend tomorrow night at the house singing and sharing stories about Maum, and in the morning, we’ll bring her here. I understand that staying the night with her is called a wake and that embalming is necessary to do that. Traditionally, our funerals are quicker because we haven’t embalmed. I want everyone to see how pretty Maum looks wearing red.” Her dark eyes filled with emotion, and she sniffled. “Of course, most of her friends have already passed.”

“Then you’ll need the hearse back Friday morning?” I asked.

Tyrone answered. “The Gullah don’t need a hearse to bring Maum from the house to her grave. The men will carry her.” He cut a look at Rizzie. “I know I’m not quite old enough, but I want to be a carrier.”

“Of course,” Rizzie said. “I think Maum would like that.”

“Can I make a basket of grave gifts?” I asked.

“Sure. I’ll give you one of my best baskets. You go on back to town. Ty and I are going to clean up the house. Maum would have fits if anyone saw the house not looking spic and span. Call us in the morning when we can see her.”

“I want to be with my friends,” Tyrone pleaded. “Can I go off tonight?”

“If we get the house clean before too late, you can see your friends. I know it’s been hard on you spending so much time away.”

“Do you want me to come back and help clean?” I asked, though everybody knows that if I ever win the lottery, the first thing I’ll do is hire a maid.

“No, thanks. Ty can help with the heavy cleaning, and I’ll finish up while he hangs out with his friends. I’d kind of like to be alone.”

I’d like to say I had a date that night, but I didn’t. I could have gone over to Jane’s or out to Daddy’s, but I spent the evening reading and talking to Big Boy about everything that was on my mind including Maum’s death and why both Dr. Donald and Patel had dropped me. I watched the news on television, but it was just more about vandalism around town. I felt old because I thought,
What have times come to?

18

I take pride in taking pride in my work, but I believe I tried harder for perfection with Maum than I ever have with anyone. I wanted her nails to be perfect; her skin, a warm dark mahogany; her hair, a soft, silvery gray. Rizzie hadn’t said anything about it, but I added a touch of red lipstick after I put the red silk dress on her.

The telephone rang and when no one else answered it, I did. There’s an extension in my workroom.

“Hello. Middleton’s Mortuary. Callie Parrish speaking. How may I help you?”

“This is Dr. Walter Marshall Graham. I’m calling to inquire about the services for Mrs. Profit.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but he’d only paused to take a breath. He continued without giving me time to utter a single word.

“The newspaper said you’re handling the funeral but the family will gather at the Profit home for a wake Thursday night and process to the Surcie Island Gullah Cemetery Friday morning at eleven.”

Again I opened my mouth. Again he spoke before I had a chance.

“That doesn’t make sense. If they’re going to bury her on that wretched island with all those broken dishes and old liquor bottles lying around, why is a mortuary involved?”

Finally he stopped long enough for me to talk. “Mrs. Profit’s family requested that Middleton’s take care of certain aspects of the service while also following some of their traditional customs.”

“What exactly are you doing?”

“Sir, I’m not allowed to give out additional information. The obituary includes all the information that I’m allowed to tell the public.” That was the truth. Anything more than what’s in the obituary is private.

“I’m not the public. She’s my older sister.” He paused. I assume to let me think about it, and then he added, “And her name is spelled incorrectly in the paper and on your website. It’s spelled H-a-d-d-i-e space M-a-u-d-e, not Hattie Mae. I’m coming over there to see her.”

“Dr. Graham, we can’t let you see her until her family okays it. Nobody can view her until then.”

“I told you that I
am
her family. I haven’t seen her in over twenty-five years, so I can understand not being named as a survivor, but she is, or
was
my sister!”

“Then you may see her after her grandchildren okay it.” I said it as politely as I possibly could. I will never understand why people show up after their kinfolk die even if they haven’t been around for years. Seems it would make more sense to be there while the loved one was alive. I’d never heard Rizzie nor Maum mention a surviving member of their family. They always talked like the three of them were the only ones remaining.

“I’m on the way over there
now.
” He disconnected the phone, and I went back to work.

Rizzie and Tyrone had selected a pine casket with shirred crepe, cream-colored interior and swing-bar handles, which are long rods along both sides of the casket instead of individual hand holds. After Odell helped me casket Maum and place her in Slumber Room A, I pulled the door closed. I didn’t bother to post Maum’s name on the sign in the hall beside it because she wasn’t going to stay there for visitation nor the service. I called Rizzie to tell her to come see if everything was to her satisfaction before we transported Maum to the house.

“Be there in about an hour,” she said.

Recent days had been stressful, and I appreciated having some time in my office without a pressing responsibility. I was making a list of things I wanted to put in a grave gift basket for Maum when there was a sharp rap on the door.

“Come in,” I said, wondering how Rizzie had arrived so quickly.

“Are you busy?” Sheriff Harmon asked.

“Not right now. Have a seat.”

He pulled out his ever-present mini tape recorder as he sat down. “I understand Rizzie’s brother threw a hissy fit when their grandmother died.”

“Hissy fit” is Southernese for tantrum. Wayne’s got a college degree and a whole lot of criminal courses beyond that, but it’s hard to educate the Southern vernacular out of a true born and bred South Carolinian’s vocabulary.

“I guess you could say that.”

“Describe it. I’ve already talked to people at Peaceful Pines.”

“Since when is it against the law for a boy to be upset when the only mama he’s ever known dies?” Yes, my tone sounded defensive.

“How many times do I have to tell you? I ask the questions. It’s your place to answer them, not ask more. Describe the boy’s actions and words when his grandmother died.”

“First, he fell all to pieces, crying and sobbing. Then he got mad. Tyrone blames Dr. Sparrow for Maum’s death. He screamed that he hated him and he knocked a hole in the wall, but Rizzie is paying for that.

“Later, when Rizzie and I explained that Maum’s age and general health made it hard for her to endure the trauma and surgery, he said he wasn’t mad about that. Said he hated the way the doctor ‘dissed’ Maum by never looking at her or moving into the room. Said the doctor should have checked her incision, and Rizzie nor I could convince him that the doctor thought he was avoiding Maum having infection by not having the dressing changed.” I thought for a moment. “But then, of course, when they finally opened the bandage, the wound was horribly infected.”

“Did you see any of what he called ‘dissing’?”

“I agree that doctor has the worst bedside manner I’ve ever seen. He’d step inside and stand right at the door. Never looked anyone in the face, never said ‘hello’ or ‘good morning.’ One time when Rizzie tried to ask a question about Maum, he told her he didn’t have time to talk to her, he was in a hurry.”

“Now think carefully, Callie. Did Tyrone threaten Dr. Sparrow?

I didn’t want to say it, but Wayne’s known me since I was a little girl, and he’d be able to tell if I lied to him. I said, “I told you he screamed he wanted to kill the doctor, but you know how kids are, especially at his age and as stressed as he’s been.”

“Where was Tyrone last night?”

“Rizzie let him go off with his friends. He needed to get away. Why are you asking all this?”

“Someone shot Dr. Sparrow last night.”

I confess I wasn’t overly shocked or overly sad about that. I hadn’t liked the doctor either. Maybe a little pain and suffering would make him more sympathetic with his patients.

“How is he?” I asked out of nothing more than curiosity.

“Dead.” Wayne went silent for a moment. I guess he was letting that word sink in. “Since it’s a homicide, I sent him to Charleston as soon as he was pronounced and forensics had finished photographing. The body will probably come back here until his wife chooses a mortuary.”

Otis and Odell need all the business they can get, but I have to confess I hoped Mrs. Sparrow didn’t use Middleton’s when the law released her husband’s body. I’d disliked that man almost as much as Tyrone did, and I didn’t want to work on him. I do the best possible job on anyone I work with, but, frankly, I didn’t care how that doctor looked in his casket. Didn’t matter to me if he even had a casket. Just throw him in a deep hole and cover him up.

“When is Maum’s funeral?” Wayne’s words brought me to the present.

“Tomorrow morning. We’re taking her to the house this afternoon. They’ll have a wake there all night. The funeral will be at the Gullah cemetery tomorrow.”

“I hate to do it before they’ve buried Mrs. Profit, but if Tyrone threatened Dr. Sparrow, I need to talk to the boy as soon as possible.”

“He’s at the graveyard, cleaning it for his grandmother’s funeral.”

Wayne brushed his left hand across his forehead, making me hope he’d have the casts off his right hand soon. “I’ll talk to you later,” he said and turned toward the door before he stopped and looked back at me. “Have you ever seen the boy with a gun?” he asked.

I said, “Not really,” and that wasn’t a lie. I’d never actually seen Tyrone with a
real
weapon, but I’d seen him shoot stars out of targets with a BB gun at the fair, and I’d eaten meals at the Profit home where the main dish came from animals Tyrone had brought home from hunting, probably with a gun. I’d bet he hadn’t been hunting with a bow and arrow, but some things are better left unsaid. Don’t get me wrong. If I had any idea at all that Tyrone had actually shot someone, I would have told the sheriff, but I didn’t think the teenager would hurt anyone, and I didn’t want to add to his and Rizzie’s grief.

The sheriff hadn’t been gone long before “A Mighty Fortress Is Our God” played over the intercom. I was glad Wayne left before Rizzie came. I didn’t put any stock in Tyrone’s threat, but I felt that she didn’t need to be worried about Tyrone being questioned about a murder.

Standing inside the front hall was a tall, trim man who looked like a black Andy Griffith on the old
Matlock
television series. Daddy is a big fan of
Mayberry,
and I’d grown up seeing him watch anything with Andy Griffith in it. The man wore a light gray, maybe even some shade of white, pin-striped seersucker suit. Seersucker is summer wear, but he looked like he probably wore it year-round, a part of his image. With his right hand, he twirled a fancy walking stick with a carved ivory handle. I can’t swear that it was real ivory. Could have been plastic, but it looked antique enough to have been made before elephant tusks became protected.

“I’m Dr. Graham, and I’ve come to see my sister.” His haughty tone matched his pompous appearance. His thinning white hair was partially covered by a white Southern gentleman’s hat, and a diamond on his left little finger glistened.

“I told you on the telephone that I can’t allow anyone to see Mrs. Profit until after her children come.” This man flustered me. I admit that.

“They aren’t her
children.
Teresa is her grandchild. I have no idea who this Tyrone might be. Is he Teresa’s child?”

I almost explained who Tyrone was, but I realized that would be a violation of our privacy policy also.

“When will Teresa be here?”

“Any time now.”

“I’ll stay. I’d like to wait in the room with my sister.”

“That’s not possible.”

“Then I’ll just sit here.” He almost gave me a heart attack when he stepped toward Slumber Room A where Maum lay, but he stopped by the door and sat in the ivory satin striped wingback chair.

Maybe I should have stayed there and talked to him, but I didn’t want to. He made me nervous, and I was afraid his being there would upset Tyrone and Rizzie. I didn’t know for sure that he wasn’t lying. Rizzie had indicated she and Tyrone were Maum’s only immediate family. I stepped down the hall, paused, and acted like I was adjusting a silk floral arrangement on a small antique table by the door to Slumber Room B.