Merry, Merry Ghost

Keith dashed away.

Peg’s hands clenched into tight hard fists. “Kim was reckless and greedy and a cheat. I always thought she encouraged Gina to spend more money than she had. Maybe that’s not fair. Gina still buys and buys and buys. In high school, Kim flirted with anybody, everybody. Mitch was crazy about Kim. She was the prettiest girl in the junior class. Mitch was wonderful, but having him wasn’t enough. She always wanted more. She was the one who made Mitch mad that night. She was running around on him. Mitch found out and lost his temper. He stormed out. That’s why Ellen died. Worst of all”—Peg’s voice was flat and empty—“Kim was cheating with Tucker. We never let Susan and Tom know that it was Tucker. Tucker dropped her immediately. I wasn’t sure whether he was sorry at what happened or if he had never cared about her and only used her to make a fool out of Mitch.”

Out of breath, cheeks flaming, Keith ran full tilt at Peg. She caught him up and turned away, hurrying across the playground to her car.

Johnny lifted a hand, took a step after her, then stopped. With a frustrated shake of his head, he walked swiftly toward the police cruiser.

Never be late for a wedding or a funeral. I was at St. Mildred’s a good fifteen minutes before the service. Unseen, I stood in the narthex near the side table with pamphlets about church teachings. The casket, covered with a cream and silver pall, waited near the central aisle. The church was filling quicky. Susan Flynn’s many friends had come to bid her farewell.

I always found the order for the burial of the dead beautiful and comforting: God is our hope and strength, a very present help in trouble.

I saw every mourner who entered. I felt a rush of relief when Leon Butler arrived. He looked solemn and unaccustomedly formal in a old blue suit which likely hung in his closet most of the year. He sat on the Gospel side of the sanctuary near the back.

I sped outside. The parking lot was full and cars were parked on both sides of the street. I finally found Leon’s battered old pickup near the entrance to the forest preserve. I flowed into the passenger seat and opened the dash compartment. It held maps, a tool kit, receipts, and a large half-eaten Hershey bar with the wrapper neatly folded back over the open end. I fished out a receipt from Hanley’s Hardware. Now I needed something to write with. I had almost despaired when my fingers touched a stub of a pencil.

I placed the sheet on the dashboard and quickly wrote on the back of the receipt:

Mr. Butler—It is urgent that I speak with you about Susan Flynn’s will. After the funeral, please meet me in the forest preserve at the end of the pier. Thanking you in advance for your cooperation—Susan’s friend whom you met Saturday night.

St. Mildred’s was bounded on one side by the cemetery, on the other by the forest preserve. The entrance to the forest preserve was about twenty feet from Leon’s truck. I draped the note over the bottom curve of the steering wheel. It could not be missed. I opened the latch on the passenger door. Otherwise, Leon would surely wonder how a note was placed inside his locked truck.

Everything depended upon Leon. Saturday night I’d realized there was a deep affection between Leon and Susan. I was counting on Leon to be willing to climb any mountain for Susan Flynn and her grandson.

Mourners were still walking into the church. I entered the room where the family waited to be summoned to the front pews.

Jake Flynn nervously rolled a crumpled tissue in one hand. Her purple silk dress made her look pale. “Where’s Peg? She promised to be here in plenty of time. I told her not to go to the park. It wasn’t appropriate.”

Charlotte Hammond smoothed her graying hair. “We have at least ten minutes.”

The door opened and Peg walked in. She closed the door behind her, leaned against it. There was a desperate, intense quality to the stricken gaze that moved from face to face. “Somebody killed Kim Weaver last night.”

“Kim?” Gina’s voice rose in shock.

Charlotte Hammond lifted a shaking hand as if in denial.

Peg took a deep breath. “A new will leaving everything to Keith arrived at Wade Farrell’s office yesterday. In the mail. Instead of giving the will to Wade, Kim Weaver kept it. She took the will to the old brick factory last night. Someone killed her.”

“A new will?” Jake lifted a trembling hand. “That can’t be. Susan wasn’t going to sign the will until Monday morning.”

Peg stared at her mother with a mixture of horror and despair.

Gina came to her feet, strode across the room, grabbed Peg’s arm. “Kim can’t be dead.”

Tucker lounged on a small sofa. His face was calm but his eyes were alert and wary. Jake struggled to control her breathing. Harrison gripped a chair arm, as if the room had suddenly become unsteady. Charlotte watched him with concern.

“Kim is dead. She is very dead.” Peg’s voice wavered with hysteria. “The police think she told someone about the new will. Last night she went to the brick factory with the will and someone shot out a tire on her car and the car went into the pit.”

Harrison clenched his hands. “What about this purported will? Where is it?”

“No one knows. The police can’t find it. It may have been lost in the water.” Her face suddenly twisted in bitterness. “Does that make all of you happy? Especially one of you?”

The door began to open, bumped against Peg.

She stepped out of the way.

A silver-haired man in a dark suit slipped inside, spoke softly. “If the family is ready…”

As the age-old liturgy unfolded, those who had surrounded Susan in life sat together to bid her farewell. Yet each seemed as separate from the other as figures on an Edward Hopper canvas. Plump Jake Flynn’s dark purple silk dress, even though unflattering, was appropriate for a funeral. As she dabbed at her eyes, I wondered if she remembered Susan and her generosity or if she was exulting that Pritchard House was hers