Matt saw Meacham say something to Denbigh. Denbigh nodded, then approached Matt.
“Mr. Jensen, I believe?” Denbigh asked in his clipped British accent.
“That’s right.”
“I am …”
“I know who you are, Denbigh,” Matt said.
Denbigh winced at being addressed in such a way, but he said nothing about it. “I am informed that you are the one who killed Mr. Butrum,”
“I am.”
“I am also told that a hearing found that the shooting was justified.”
“It did.”
“Nevertheless, whether justified or not, I must say that you certainly have a great deal of cheek. I mean, here you are, present for the funeral services of the very man you killed.”
“You’re calling this a funeral, are you?”
“Yes, of course. What would you call it?”
“Seems to me like it is more of a burying than a funeral. At least from what I have noticed,” Matt said.
“What do you mean? I have bought and paid for the finest coffin one can buy. And, as you can see, he is being transported to his final resting place in style.” Denbigh indicated the hearse that was even now receiving the coffin of the late Ollie Butrum.
“Excuse me, Lord Denbigh,” Lisenby said, calling over to him from his position at the back of the hearse. “Will you be present for the interment?”
“No,” Denbigh replied. “I shall leave that in your capable hands.”
“Very good, sir.”
“You aren’t going to the cemetery to see your friend buried?” Matt asked.
“He was my employee, not my friend,” Denbigh said.
“As I said, it isn’t much of a funeral,” Matt repeated.
“So, it is a service you want, is it? And would you have a vested cleric reading words and telling lies about what a noble life Mr. Butrum lived?”
“Are you saying he did not live a noble life?”
“You met him briefly,” Denbigh said. “Did he seem all that noble to you?”
“I would say—no,” Matt replied.
Quite unexpectedly, Denbigh laughed out loud, his laugh totally incongruous in the setting. In fact, some of the attendees, who had left the viewing room and were now watching the coffin being loaded onto the hearse, looked toward him in shock.
“Oh, my, I seem to have upset some of the locals who, no doubt, feel that I am not showing the proper respect for the late Mr. Butrum.”
This time it was Matt’s turn to laugh. “I doubt any of them are that concerned about it. In fact, I would say that most of them are glad to see him gone.”
“Do you believe you did the town a favor by dispatching Mr. Butrum?”
“I think that would be the consensus,” Matt replied.
“Consensus? My, that’s quite a word for someone like you to use. Are you an educated man, Mr. Jensen?”
“It depends on your definition of the term education,” Matt said. “I have some formal schooling, though most of my education was outside the classroom. But it was intense, thorough, and has been much more applicable to my life than would be a degree from some university.”
“What you are saying is, you can track a bear, but you know nothing of Chaucer.”
Matt began to quote:
Denbigh applauded, clapping his hands lightly. “Hear, hear, Mr. Jensen, you do know Chaucer. Is it limited to Chaucer’s
