A Farewell to Yarns

If Mel VanDyne had expected emotional fire?  works at the funeral, he was disappointed. The widower behaved with cool decorum. John Wagner stayed close to his father, looking vaguely belligerent but otherwise no more upset than any stepson who was only slightly fond of his late stepmother. Jane noticed both of them casting a quick eye over the assembly once or twice, but whether they were looking for Bobby or merely curious about who was in attendance, it was impossible to say. John sat next to his father, and on his other side there was a mousy woman Jane remembered from volleyball days, presumably the downtrodden Joannie. Beside her there was a lean, red-headed man in his thirties who leaned across Joannie and whispered to John a couple of times. Jane assumed that he was the brother from the London office.

Closest to the family were a number of muscular, stern-faced young men. Jane realized that they must be bodyguards. Of course a man of Chet's money and international standing must have them, so why did she find their presence so foreign and alarming? Other than the family and the bodyguards, the funeral was well attended by a lot of extremely well-heeled people, presumably Chet's wealthy friends who had flocked in from whatever fashionable watering holes they normally frequented. The women's clothes were magnificent, and the men all looked like aging movie stars. Jane tried to picture Phyllis socializing with these people and failed.

Next in the pecking order were the small legion of people she assumed were Chet's staff and business associates. They were identifiable by their yuppie looks and fawning demeanors.

There wasn't a tear in the crowd. If anyone genuinely grieved for Phyllis—besides Chet—they were keeping it well hidden. Jane sat listening to the bland service, obviously conducted for a woman none of them knew well, and tried to find a feeling of true loss somewhere in her own heart. All she found was guilt.

The only interesting part of the ordeal, as far as Jane was concerned, was the fact that a couple of network news crews had gathered outside the church during the service. Chet, John, John's wife, Joannie, and the red- headed Wagner son had taken places with the minister at the door of the church in a sort of reverse receiving line. Being in the back row, Jane was among the first out. As Chet opened the door for her, a cameraman leaped into action, focusing on Jane as she came down the steps clutching Mel's arm to keep from taking a header on the icy steps.

Accustomed to cameras, VanDyne snarled, 'Buzz off, boys,' and shoved her unceremoniously through the crowd and into the red MG.

“Andy Warhol promised me fifteen minutesof fame,' Jane mused as they roared off. 'I wonder if it's all going to be in five-second intervals. Did you learn anything?'

“Not a damned thing. They didn't even seem to notice that he was missing.'

“They were all probably too relieved to question a good thing.'

“Jane, do you mind if I drop you off at home? I've got to get back to the coroner and see what he's found out.'

“Far be it from me to keep a man from his coroner,' Jane said. Did he mean he would have otherwise offered her lunch or something semidatish?

When he'd left, she called Shelley. 'I saw you come back with VanDyne,' her friend said. 'You look smashing, by the way. Want to go someplace fancy for lunch before deterioration starts to set in?'

“I'd love it. Shelley, Bobby was murdered overnight.'

“I know. Suzie told me.'

“It wasn't even in the paper. How did Suzie know?'

“She had to run down to the mall early this morning to set up for a lingerie sale. It was the talk of the town. Who did it? Why there? When? Where do we send out thank-you notes?'

“Shelley, you don't mean that.'

“I know I don't. But he's a hard person to feel sorry about. Was the funeral hideous? What about lunch? We can pick the whole case apart.”

Over crab quiche and white wine, Jane told Shelley what little she knew about Bobby's death. 'So nothing at the scene helped them?' Shelley asked.

“Apparently not. Unless VanDyne is concealing information from me—which is entirely possible. The only reason he was being chummy with me was so he could go to the funeral 'disguised' as a friend of a friend of the family. Shelley, there is such a thing as an unsolved crime—'

“Probably many more of them than we're led to believe,' Shelley agreed.

“I have this awful feeling Bobby and Phyllis are going to end up in that category. The thing that scares me is the thought that whoever killed them may not be through.' She took a last bite of her quiche. 'Suppose it was somebody like Mr. Finch—not that I think it was—but if he killed them for something he imagined was an insult to him, he might just go right on and bump off Fiona or somebody. On the other hand, suppose it was Chet or John Wagner—'

“Then it's a domestic matter, not likely to go any further,' Shelley said firmly.

“Not necessarily. If one of them did it, they might think somebody else had a clue—maybe even us—and is a danger to their getting away with it.'

“Us? What do we know?”

Jane paused. 'We might know lots of things we don't realize are significant.”

Shelley waited while the waiter came and took their plates and dessert orders. When he'd gone, she crossed her arms and leaned forward. 'Jane, what's on your mind?”

Jane lowered her voice. 'Shelley, this little memory jiggled through my mind during the service. Remember when Chet and John came over that night and we went to the door because Bobby didn't? Picture what happened.”

Shelley frowned. 'Nothing happened. They came in the door. That's all.'

“No, they came in a locked door ...' Shelley leaned back in her chair. '... that we didn't open.'

“Right. John Wagner had a key.”

The waiter hovered until they were done and the shopping mall was too crowded for further conversation. They left the restaurant, and Jane got out a little notebook she carried in her purse. 'Let's see. I've got Mike's CDs to get and something for Thelma and Dixie Lee. That ought to finish it up.'

“You're not buying Mike a CD player, are you?'

“Good Lord, no! I can't afford a thing like that. Thelma's getting it. I hate for her to give the kids such expensive gifts. She only does it to put me in a bad light.'

“Come on, Jane. That's not fair. They're her only grandchildren, and she's got plenty of money to spend, so why shouldn't she?'

“Yes, you're right. But I wish Steve's brother Ted and his wife, Dixie Lee, would get on with having kids, so she could disperse her interest a little. I should be grateful she didn't buy Mike a car. I was afraid she was going to.'

“All right. Let's get the CDs first,' Shelley said, glaring dangerously at a group of women who had jostled her.

Standing over a rack full of Billy Joel CDs, and finding themselves momentarily alone, Shelley said, 'There are lots of reasons he could have had a key. Phyllis might have given it to him. She probably did.'

“Yes—it's not really the key itself that's bothering me. I just meant it was something like that. Or several somethings skittering through my brain—Shelley,' she gasped, 'do you know what these things cost?”

After purchasing four of the shiny plastic disks, they moved on to a luggage store, where Shelley knew there was a sale on extremely good, frumpy handbags. That took care of Jane's mother-in-law. 'She'll just take it back,' Jane groused.

“Of course she will, but she might apply the credit to a suitcase and then get the urge to go on a trip. You can't lose.'

“Oh, Shelley, you are a comfort to me!' Jane said with a laugh.

A matched set of necklace, earrings, and bracelet in very good mock turquoise and silver let Jane mark her sister-in-law's name off her list. 'That's really pretty stuff,' Jane said. 'I can't believe they aren't hot at that price.