"According to her lawyer," I said, throwing Nigel under the bus, "she didn't want a fuss. She had her cremains sent to me, and she left me the house. That's how we found out." I put on a very sad face.
"That does sound like her," Pete said.
"I'm sorry for your loss," I added.
"Thank you. We'd been together for a year or so. But she didn't want to make that public."
I'll bet. With three suitors, I had to wonder if she had any interest in the men at all. From what I'd learned so far, Aunt June was very savvy. She'd know how these men really felt, and I had the strangest feeling that she didn't return their affections.
What I didn't ask was how did the spider get out of his enclosure on the third floor and down to kill her on the first. It wasn't like she'd cuddle with him while watching TV.
"It was hard," Pete continued, "having to identify her and do the autopsy. I made sure it wasn't invasive. That was the least I could do."
"You poor thing." I patted his hand. "I can't even imagine."
"Well." He sobered up quickly. "I am a professional first and foremost. But I felt I owed it to her to be the one who made the call as to cause of death."
Of course he did. If Pete had killed Aunt June, he'd need to make sure he was the only one to examine her.
"Who handled the cremation?" I asked.
His eyebrows went up. This was what made him wary? Why wouldn't he want to tell me, her heir, that?
"I'd like to see if anyone signed their online book, maybe posted some stories about her. And I should probably see if there are any fees that still need to be paid."
He relaxed. "That would be Maplethorpe's."
I made a huge display of typing that into my phone. "Would that be in Guttenberg?"
He shook his head. "No. It's outside of town. They handle almost all the rural funerals in the county. Tommy Maplethorpe built the funeral home outside of city limits so that no one would think he was favoring one town over the other."
Or to avoid looking like he was from Behold. Was he like Jared in thinking those folks were nuts?
"Smart!" I proclaimed. "I'll look him up today."
I stared meaningfully at the file in an attempt to get him to hand it to me. He did not.
"Is there anything in that file that might help me get closure?" I hated being so obvious, but some people are so thick that you have to spell it out.
"I'm sorry. I can't show it to you. Medical professional courtesy. You understand."
Yeah—that you made that up just now.
"Tell Tommy that I sent you." He smiled again. "I'm sure he knows about my connection to Aunt June."
"I will. Thanks." I got to my feet.
Pete stood up and held his hand out. I shook it.
"I hope you don't mind if I ask a personal question, Merry."
Get ready to lie about my nonexistent relationship with his girlfriend…
"Did you know your hair is green and white?"
I didn't miss a beat. "Nothing gets past you, does it?"
He tapped the side of his nose. "I'm very observant."
Not observant enough to have noticed it when I got here.
"Basil offered to do my hair." I chewed my lip. "I really didn't expect him to color it."
Pete laughed. "Well, that sounds about right." He reached into his wallet, extracting a card that he handed to me. "Call me if you need anything. That's my number."
This extremely intelligent observer didn't seem to realize that I'd called him to make the appointment.
"I will! Thanks!"
Maplethorpe's Funeral Home and Crematory was, like Pete said, just outside of town. And unlike the other buildings that were rotting away on the outside, this one looked like it was brand-new. A tall, white home with large columns, it gave the appearance of Tara from Gone With The Wind.
A chime went off when I opened the door, and I was immediately greeted by a short, very somber man in a three-piece suit. He bowed deeply.
"Mrs. Ferguson. I'm so glad you stopped by. Coroner Oroner called," he said without a trace of irony.
Of course he did. I was getting kind of tired of the network in this place. Everyone knew where I was and where I was going.
"Thank you. I apologize for not coming sooner. You see, I just found out about"—my voice hitched as if snagged on grief—"Aunt June's death when the urn was delivered."
Tommy Maplethorpe nodded as if he expected this. "There were no services." He sighed. "I suggested to Mr. Hickenlooper that everyone deserved a farewell, but he said her will was resolute on the matter. Please, do come back to my office where we can talk."
I felt a surge of excitement thinking it meant he had something to tell me. As we walked through the tastefully dour funeral home, he nodded at a woman about his same age. She nodded back and scurried for the door.
"My sister," he explained. "I always have someone in the foyer ready to greet anyone who comes by."
I didn't respond because that practice seemed like an idiotic thing to do. Didn't most people call the funeral home to pick up the deceased? Did people around here just show up with a body? Then again, my experiences in this county over the last couple of days did make that seem less laughable.
We sat down in a well-appointed office decorated in dove gray.
I started. "You collected her from her home?"
"Yes. After Coroner Oroner examined her at the site."
It took all I had not to giggle.
"Was there an online guest book?" I asked as somberly as possible.
"You know…" He frowned. "There must be, because our website creates one when we enter the deceased's name. It never occurred to me to look it up because we weren't having services."
Tommy typed on his keyboard and turned the monitor away from him, toward me.
