Heartbreaker

'Yes, ma’am, I am,' Nick assured her. 'Please go on.'

'Just yesterday I received a bill from the doctor for cremation services. I was thunderstruck, and I called him up right away. I was certain there had been a mistake.'

'The dog was cremated?'

Bessie Jean dabbed at the corners of her eyes with her handkerchief and then began to fan herself again. 'Yes, he was. The doctor told me that my nephew had called him and told him we’d changed our minds and to go ahead and cremate poor Daddy.'

The rocking chair was really moving now, the floor creaking beneath it.

'And the vet followed those instructions without consulting you?'

'Yes, he did,' Viola said. 'It just never occurred to him to check with us first.'

'Your nephew-'

'But that’s just it,' Bessie Jean cried out. 'We don’t have any nephews.'

'If you ask me, the culprit wanted to get rid of the evidence,' Viola said. 'Isn’t that right?'

'It would seem so,' he agreed. 'I’d like to look at those flowers.'

'Oh, you can’t do that, dear,' Viola said. 'Justin helped me dig out the roots and plant new flowers. He saw me out there, down on my knees, struggling so, and even after the hard day he’d put in doing carpentry work up at the abbey, he was kind enough to come over and help me. I simply can’t keep up with the yard anymore.'

'And who is Justin?'

'Justin Brady,' Bessie Jean answered, impatiently. 'I do believe I already mentioned him.'

'No, you didn’t,' Viola said. 'You told Nicholas that three workmen moved into the Morrison house and two others lived with the Nicholsons. You didn’t say their names. I heard every word you said as clear as a bell.'

'Well, I meant to,' Bessie Jean replied. 'I’ve only met the three across the street. There’s Justin Brady. He’s the only one we like.'

'Because he helped me,' Viola said. 'And then there’s Mark Hanover and Willie Lakeman. They were all sitting on the porch steps together drinking beer, and all of them saw me struggling, but Justin’s the only one who crossed the street to help me. The other two kept on drinking.'

'Well, young man, do you believe Daddy was murdered, or do you think we’re just a couple of dotty old ladies making up stories?'

'Based on what you’ve told me, and assuming that it’s accurate, I agree that your dog was killed,' Nick said.

Laurant’s eyes widened. 'You do?'

'Yes,' he answered.

Bessie Jean clasped her hands together. She was elated. 'I knew the FBI wouldn’t fail me. Now tell me, Nicholas, what are you prepared to do about it?'

'I’m going to look into this myself. Some samples of the soil where those flowers were planted would help. And the water bowl… you do still have it, don’t you?'

'Yes, we do,' Viola said. 'It’s packed away in the garage with all of Daddy’s favorite toys.'

'Will you keep us apprised of developments?' Bessie Jean asked.

'I most certainly will. You didn’t happen to wash that water bowl, did you?'

'I don’t believe we did,' Viola said. 'We were so upset, we just put it away so we wouldn’t be… reminded.'

'Viola wanted to take the painting down and pack up the pictures, but I wouldn’t let her do it. It’s a comfort having Daddy smiling down at us.'

In unison, everyone paused to look up at the oil painting. While Nick was wondering how the women could tell that the dog was smiling, Laurant was pondering how the sisters could feel such affection for the nasty- tempered animal that snapped at everyone who came into the yard. He’d bitten so many people, the vet kept his shot record posted on the waiting room bulletin board.

'We do hope the culprit turns out to be someone from outside our peaceful valley. We don’t like to think that one of our own could do such a terrible thing,' Viola said.

'I wouldn’t put such cruelty past the sheriff’s boy. Lonnie’s always been trouble. The boy’s got a real mean streak inside him that runs deep. He gets it from his father, of course.'

'He’s a sneaky one all right. His mother passed on several years ago. I don’t mean to speak ill of the dead, but she was a mousy woman. She didn’t have any backbone at all, not even when she was a young girl. She was a whiner too, wasn’t she, Bessie Jean?'

'My yes, she was.'

'You said there were a lot of strangers in town,' Nick said. 'Have you noticed anyone hanging around your house or Laurant’s?'

'I spend a good deal of my time sitting on my porch and I will occasionally look out the windows at night, just to make certain things are as right as they should be. Except for the man I saw going into Laurant’s house yesterday, I haven’t noticed anyone in the yard or lurking about. Like I said before, most of the strangers are workmen helping out at the abbey. Some of them come from as far away as Nebraska and Kansas.'

She planted both feet on the floor and brought the rocker to an abrupt stop. Leaning toward Nick and Laurant expectantly, she asked, 'You’ll stay to supper?'

'It’s macaroni night,' Viola announced as she pushed against the cushions with both hands to raise herself out of the low chair and then headed for the kitchen. 'Macaroni and brisket and homemade cinnamon rolls, and I’ll make company salad.'

'We don’t want to put you to any trouble,' Laurant protested.

'We’d love to join you,' Nick said at the same time.

'Laurant, why don’t you help Sister, and I’ll keep Nicholas company,' Bessie Jean suggested.

'Come and set the table, dear,' Viola said. 'We’ll eat in the kitchen, but we’ll use the Spode.'

Bessie Jean didn’t waste any time. As soon as Laurant disappeared, she leaned even farther out of the rocker and demanded to know how Nick and Laurant had become so friendly.

He’d been waiting for the opportunity. In the barest of details, he told her about his friendship with Tommy and how he had been called in to help when a man came into the confessional and threatened to harm Laurant.

'The unfortunate incident brought us together,' he explained. 'Our experts are all in agreement that the man was just a blowhard out to get some kicks. You know the kind. He wants to scare people, to stir up things and cause trouble. He wants attention, that’s all. They figure he’s not real bright. He probably has a low IQ,' he added, 'and is most likely impotent.'

Bessie Jean blushed. 'Impotent, you say?'

'Yes, ma’am. That’s what they figure he is.'

'Then you didn’t come here to investigate Daddy’s murder?'

He’d wondered how long it would take her to figure that out. 'No, but I’m going to look into it all the same,' he promised.

She sat back in the rocker. 'Tell me a bit about your background, Nicholas.'

She wouldn’t let him skim over it. She drilled him with the experrise of a master interrogator. She wanted to know everything about his family too.

Laurant saved him by appearing in the doorway and calling them to dinner. Nick followed Bessie Jean into the kitchen. The delicate flowered china rested on a white linen tablecloth that almost completely covered the chrome legs of the kitchen table. Nick charmed the ladies with his gentlemanly manners by rushing to pull out their chairs for them. They beamed with pleasure.

Company salad turned out to be a square of lime Jell-O nestled on a bed of iceberg lettuce with a dab of mayonnaise on top. He hated Jell-O, but he ate it anyway so he wouldn’t hurt their feelings, and while he was gulping it down, Bessie Jean filled Viola in on the incident that occurred in Kansas City.

'The things people will do for attention these days. Terrible, just terrible. Father Tom must have been very upset.'

'Oh, he was,' Laurant said. 'He wasn’t sure what to do, so he called Nick for help.'

'Something good came out of it,' Nick said. He winked at Laurant across the table and added, 'I finally met Tommy’s sister.'