Jolly Dead St. Nicholas (24 page)

At noon, Adelaide donned a black pantsuit, white blouse and low-heel leather boots. She brushed her hair into place after applying minimal makeup. Oscar fretted around her ankles, getting cat fur on her pants. As she took a lint roller over the soft material she said, “No more of that. There’s food in your bowl. Go look.” He yowled up at her before prancing off toward his favorite window in the dining room. The ankle rubbing was obviously payback for rousting him from that spot earlier. Cats were like that.

As he’d done every day for the past five years when it snowed, Tim Hunter, owner of the local auto repair shop, had cleared her driveway and sidewalk. She paid him ten dollars a trip to keep them snow-free. Most of the residents along the street did the same, even though he didn’t want payment. Adelaide knew for a fact he donated the money to the local food pantry.

When this house was first built, there’d been no garage. Later, a frame structure was erected that could only be accessed from the alley. The driveway and a new single car garage were added in the late 1950s. The old garage was demolished at the same time.

She backed her car out of the garage onto the street. The snow was still coming down, but not as hard as before. She hoped it stopped before the graveside service.

As she approached Purcell’s Funeral Home on the corner of Buckeye Street and Acorn Avenue, she was once again struck by the sheer magnificence of the structure. Built in the late 1890s, it was three stories high with a portico-style porch. Thick, white pillars supported a wide balcony spanning the second story. It was painted a pale yellow, the shutters a gleaming white. Once the home of the town’s wealthy land developer, Bertram Thomas, it sat on a generous double lot. The extra land next to it, where gracious elm and sugar-maple trees once grew, was now an asphalt parking area.

Seeing that the lot was nearly full, Adelaide hurried into one of the few remaining spaces. An attendant quickly approached. He looked to be around twenty, with shaggy hair and crooked teeth. “You joining the procession to the cemetery after the service?”

She nodded. He was already putting the little magnetized purple flag on the roof of her car. It was close to one o’clock. Adelaide quickly exited the car and hurried across the parking lot.

Harold Purcell, looking somber but nattily dressed in a charcoal gray suit, opened the front door before she could reach for the handle. He didn’t smile, only nodded a greeting. People packed the wide entryway separating the two viewing rooms. The heavy floral aroma mixed with something that smelled like wet wool, almost made her gag.

She immediately spotted Vernon, standing near the wide mahogany stairway leading to the second floor. He waved as he battled his way through the pressing crowd to her side.

“I wondered where you were. This is something. They’re going to have to set up chairs in the other viewing room for the overflow.” He took her elbow, escorting her behind the staircase to where several racks, jammed with damp coats, sat next to an elevator. Harold and his daughter, Ruth, lived on the second floor. The embalming was done on the third floor.

As Adelaide slipped her coat onto one of the few remaining tubular hangers, Vernon said, “It’s a closed casket, by the way. I think Susan went downstairs to the lounge for some coffee. Her sister and brothers are handling the crowd. Her parents look very frail. I’m not sure where her son is.”

Half the basement of the funeral home was an area where family members could take a break when needed. Coffee and tea were available along with bottled water. The colors were subtle, the furniture comfortably plush. She remembered it well from when Albert had lain in a bronze casket here.

As they re-entered the foyer, Adelaide asked, “Is Reverend Preston here yet?” Being a little taller than those surrounding her, she was able to scan the crowd, but didn’t see the minister anywhere.

“He might be with Susan.” Vernon nodded a greeting to the Englers as they passed by on their way to find a seat for the service.

“This is just so sad,” Tina Engler told Adelaide. There were tears in her eyes.

“I doubt if Ethel will be here…” Adelaide began, only to stop when she spied her friend enter the funeral home.

Ethel pushed past well-wishers who wanted to know about Carl’s condition. “He’s awake.” she told Adelaide, grabbing her hand. “He’s a little disoriented, doesn’t remember much, but he’s going to be all right. The tests on his heart all came back negative.” The relief was evident on her face.

Adelaide sent up a silent prayer of thanks. One funeral this month was one too many.

“I need to pay my respects to the family. Is Susan up there? I can’t see past all these people,” Ethel said.

“She’s downstairs, but I think I just saw Eric approaching the casket,” Vernon said.

Looking around, Adelaide noticed something else. Officers Ray Butler and Judy Hess were present, dressed in their Sunday best instead of uniforms. Daniel had obviously wanted a police presence for some reason. Was he hoping they’d overhear something to strengthen the case against Douglas or implicate Susan? Speaking of Douglas, she wondered if he would show up.

As though reading her thoughts, Vernon said, “Looks like Douglas Underwood is going to be a no-show.”

“Can you blame him?” Adelaide responded.

“Not really. If he shows up he will be the center of attention, which I doubt seriously he wants,” Vernon said.

Adelaide whispered to Vernon, “Help Ethel make her way through that crowd. You’d better hurry and get a seat. Save me one. I’m going to slip downstairs to see if I can talk to Susan for a moment.”

But when she got there, Susan was gone and the lounge was empty. She heard the sound of organ music from above. The service was about to begin.

Adelaide slipped into her seat beside Vernon just as Reverend James Preston began speaking from behind a portable wooden lectern next to an ornate silver casket that was draped with dozens of red roses. Adelaide closely observed the stocky, dark haired minister whose brown eyes often twinkled with humor. His passions were golf in the summer, skiing in the winter. He and Adelaide had become good friends during his pastorate. She was so glad he was back, even if it was temporary.

As the minister read from a Bible passage purported to be Jerry’s favorite, Adelaide looked down front to where Susan sat in a row of chairs specified for the immediate family. She saw the back of Eric’s head. He was sitting next to Susan with an arm draped protectively over her shoulders. On the other side of Susan were her parents, looking small and hunched over. Susan’s brothers sat ramrod straight with their wives in the row behind Susan. The sister sat next to them with her head bowed as though constantly in prayer.

Adelaide saw Harold Purcell standing in the archway leading to the foyer. He looked dignified yet stricken at the same time. Those in the viewing room across the foyer were listening to the service via an intercom system. Out of the corner of her eye she spotted Ruth Purcell move into view, taking up a position along the opposite wall. The short, chubby woman wore her light brown hair in a medium-length pageboy. It occurred to Adelaide that Ruth would have been totally non-descript if it weren’t for her expressive green eyes, which were framed by long, dark lashes. For this occasion she wore a black pin striped suit that was tastefully tailored to minimize her girth.

Adelaide looked around at the crowd. The Englers were across the aisle from her. Next to them sat Dora Carmody and Gayle Nelson. Zelda Jackson was two seats away in the same row, a sour look on her face.

Everyone was standing up. Vernon pulled her to her feet, as the mourners began reciting the Twenty-Third Psalm. She dutifully said the words around the lump in her throat. Then the service was over. No one had been asked to say a few words about Jerry. She somehow felt cheated.

“Well, she made sure that was short and sweet, didn’t she? I’m sure she can’t wait to get him in the ground. At least Douglas Underwood had the good grace not to show up.” Adelaide heard Zelda say to Marsha Burns, who was sitting next to her.

Wiping the tears from her cheeks, Marsha walked away without responding.

Ethel was already speaking to a group of church members across the room. Vernon said to Adelaide, “Ride with me to the cemetery. I’ll drop you off to retrieve your car before we go to Susan’s.” He led her into the crowded foyer. They’d finally made their way to the coat racks.

Adelaide nodded her agreement. She watched as Ethel next approached Susan and her family. Momentarily, she joined Adelaide and Vernon.

“I’m not going to the cemetery or to Susan’s house afterward. I need to get back to the hospital,” Ethel said.

“Can Carl have visitors now?” Vernon asked.

“Later. They’re moving him to a regular room soon. I’m sure the police will want to talk to him again. I’d like to be there when they do.” Grabbing her coat off the rack, she left quickly, wending her way to the front door where many people were now exiting to get in their cars for the procession to the cemetery.

“I’ll get our coats,” Vernon said, turning to pick through the items still on hangers.

Adelaide felt a hand grasp her arm. It was Susan, looking extremely tense. She wore a basic black dress with no jewelry. Even her wedding ring was gone. “I need to talk to you sometime today, Adelaide. I’m really sorry for the way I acted yesterday. Will you be at our house later?”

Adelaide nodded. “I have some more questions for you, also.”

Susan’s son, Eric, approached. He looked almost gaunt in a black suit that seemed a little big on him. His tie was pulled away from his throat, as though he’d been tugging at it. Adelaide guessed that, being a college student, he wasn’t used to dressing up. He cast a wary glance at Adelaide then said to Susan, “Let’s go, Mother, it’s time to get in the limo. They’re ready to load the coffin into the hearse.” He guided Susan away without speaking to Adelaide.

The limo, in this case, was the spacious, well equipped dark gray minivan used to transport family members to the cemetery following a funeral service.

Adelaide preceded Vernon outside as they made their way to his black Cadillac Escalade. On the roof, one of the little purple flags fluttered in the breeze. Overhead the clouds were breaking up, revealing slivers of blue sky. The snow had stopped.

At the grave site, mourners stood huddled under a green canopy as James Preston said a few prayers and recited several Bible verses. The wind had picked up considerably, so the sun did little to take away the chill that seemed to cut through outer garments like a knife through soft butter.

Once the service was concluded, Adelaide made her way to James, drawing him aside. “Is there any way I can talk you into coming out of retirement? We need you at the church.”

He nodded. “Already taken care of. You’ve got me until they can assign a permanent replacement.”

Adelaide felt her knees go weak with relief. The congregation needed stability right now, something their beloved former pastor could provide.

“I can’t believe that antique letter opener I used for so many years was the murder weapon. If I’d only taken it with me,” James lamented.

“It’s not your fault,” Adelaide assured him.

He took Adelaide’s hands in his. They were warm and comforting. His expression was somber. “I don’t know Douglas Underwood very well, Adelaide, but I know Fran’s family. I served their church in Columbus in the early nineties. The DeWitts are devastated by all of this. I spoke with Fran’s father last night. As much as they abhor what Douglas has done to their daughter, they cannot believe he’s a murderer.”

Adelaide was in shock. The DeWitts had, in a way, come to Douglas’s defense. How could that be? Did Fran now feel the same way? She certainly hadn’t hesitated to throw Douglas to the wolves by blowing his false alibi out of the water. Perhaps she was rethinking things now that she’d put some distance between herself and her adulterous husband.

“Is Fran having second thoughts about the divorce?”

James shook his head. “Not a chance. Fran would just as soon see him burn in hell. But the DeWitts are very conscious of their public image. I think they just can’t stand the thought that the man married to their daughter is capable of such a heinous act.”

“I’m just glad you’re back, James,” Adelaide told him.

“You’ll never know how happy I am to be back, although I hate that it is under these circumstances.” He released her hands.

Vernon came up beside her, shaking the preacher’s hand. After Adelaide told him the good news about James Preston’s return he said, “We’re going to the Dovetail Inn for lunch after church on Sunday. Why don’t you join us?”

Adelaide didn’t recall accepting such a lunch date with Vernon. “We are?”

“You bet,” Vernon said, taking hold of Adelaide’s arm.

“I think I’ll take you up on that. Mind if my roommate comes along? My treat.” He chuckled at their confused looks. “Of course, I’m staying in town for a while since I’m going to be filling in at the church.”

Vernon’s brow furrowed a little. “You have a roommate?”

Adelaide was also surprised. James Preston had been a widower for over three years. “Well, I guess—”

“Who is this…person?” Vernon asked.

“Douglas Underwood. I’ll be staying with him at the parsonage. He’s the main murder suspect, so he can’t leave town. As you may already know, the bishop has generously granted him permission to remain in the house for now.” Before either of them could respond, he turned and walked away.

The first thing Adelaide noticed when she and Vernon walked into the Hatfield home was the absence of any Christmas decorations. Even the tree was gone. The place had been stripped bare of holiday cheer.

Who can blame them? I didn’t bother with such things the first Christmas after Albert died. It still isn’t the same without him.

She spotted James Preston circulating through the crowd but couldn’t catch his eye. Again relief and a spike of pleasure surged through her now that she knew he would be back in the pulpit, even if it was temporarily.