on the small rise beyond the tree.
I glanced back at Ruth, who had chosen off-white lace for the funeral. I wondered if that was the dress she’d been married in. In the circles Aunt Caroline and Willis traveled, people would have buzzed over a woman not choosing black, but here, with neighbors Ruth had known forever, no one would misunderstand or say anything unkind.
The small crowd dispersed, and Ruth remained still and tearless while two men shoveled spades of clumped red clay over the casket. The sickly-sweet scent of dying flowers drifted toward me on the hot breeze.
“Ready to head back to Houston?” whispered Willis, who’d been squirming next to me like a leech on a hook.
“First we’re paying our respects at Ruth’s place,” I whispered back.
“You didn’t tell me that.” He focused on his Rolex. “I have to return to town. Considering this funeral cost you a tidy sum, I only came to keep an eye on how your money was spent today. I must say, they did a fine job on the flowers... and the service benefited from those lilies you insisted on. Surprises me they could find such lovely ones, seeing as how we’re out here in—”
I elbowed him in the ribs. “Would you shut up? Ruth is still praying.”
Willis hadn’t even flinched when I hit him. It seemed his workouts were effective for more than networking with the “right people.”
“Abby, I must leave. I have a client waiting,” he said.
I pointed in the direction of the sleek black Lincoln parked on the grass about fifty yards away. “That hearse is headed back to Houston. Why not hitch a ride and I’ll drive your car back to town later tonight?”
“You can’t be serious,” he replied.
“I’ll be satisfied I’ve received the best service for my dollar with passengers in that contraption going in both directions. How’s that for a sound business decision?”
“Um... maybe the hearse could wait for you and I’ll drive back in my car now?” The sweat on his balding forehead drizzled past his temples.
“You’re not squeamish, are you, Willis? Besides, another dead person back in Houston is patiently awaiting that hearse’s return so they can experience city traffic one last time. Say, do you suppose the Six-ten Loop is actually purgatory? Miles and miles of endless, congested highways going around and around and—”
“Abby, I’m not—”
“Seriously, Willis. The hearse driver told me he has another funeral.” I smiled, deciding I hadn’t had this much fun in a long time.
He adjusted his sunglasses and cleared his throat. “If that’s what you want, I’ll happily accommodate you.” With that, he turned stiffly and handed his car keys to me. “When can I tell Kate to expect you?”
“I’m not sure,” I replied. “Tonight sometime. Borrow my car if you need one. Kate knows where I keep the spare key. And thanks for coming with me.”
I felt a twinge of guilt at seeing his stricken face. He’d only sought to advise me in my best interests, and what did he get for his trouble? A long drive in a hearse, all the while praying none of the “right” people saw him.
That sense of culpability passed swiftly, however. Maybe this unusual trip home would teach Willis not to try to control me. I hated men trying to control me.
The finest meals in Texas are served after funerals, and Ruth’s kitchen table attested to that fact. I had loaded up with fried chicken, sour cream-dill potato salad, baked beans, and homemade pickles, and was balancing the plate in one hand while holding a glass of fresh lemonade in the other. I headed for the porch, where callers had gathered in the late-afternoon reprieve from the heat. When I passed Ruth on my way outside, she dropped a hot biscuit on top of my chicken.
“This looks wonderful,” I said. “But aren’t you eating?”
“I know I should partake of what these fine people have provided, but I haven’t had much appetite since Ben died.”
She followed me outside, where we joined the remaining mourners. An old gentleman rose and offered his rocker, then said his good-byes. The others soon followed his lead until only Ruth and I remained.
She rocked rhythmically, the setting sun highlighting the grief in her tired eyes. “I want to thank you again, Miss Abby, for your kindness and understanding, and for bringing Ben home. He would have been most grateful. Most grateful indeed. When they find who done this, he’ll truly rest.”
“Have the police contacted you?”
“Only Sheriff Nemec. Said the city police sent him over to ask me questions.”
“What kind of questions?”
“Oh, like, do I know anyone with a reason to harm Ben. I said, ‘Besides you, Stanley?’ He looked through Ben’s belongings, and then after he left I spent money on a long-distance call to the city. I wanted to see what was bein’ done about finding his killer, since I don’t think Stanley will be breaking his back to find answers. Lady who I talked to says I got to have a case number. Says don’t I know there’s four million people in Houston? Says how’s she supposed to tell one dead body from another without a case number? One thing’s for sure, miss. That’ll be the last time I call them folks for anything. Don’t need to pay money on no phone bill to be talked to like that.” She lifted her chin and her lower lip quivered.
“I’m so sorry.” To myself I added,
“It ain’t your fault. Lady was probably right. He was nothin’ to her.”
“But he was everything to you.” I laid my hand on hers. “I’ll find out who killed him, Ruth. I promise.”
“You don’t need to on my account. This funeral today was more than I ever expected. I’ll be grateful for the remainder of my days.” She closed her eyes and rocked faster.
“I have another reason for wanting to know what happened to Ben. The police questioned me. Treated me like I might be involved.”
Ruth stopped rocking. “They’ve got half the pickets missing from their fence if they think you coulda had anything to do with Ben’s death.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” I smiled.
She squeezed my hand.
“Did the sheriff take anything of Ben’s?” I asked.
“Nope. Nothin’ to take, that I know about.”
“And what about Cloris? Did Ben save anything that belonged to her?”
“Plenty of stuff. But Stanley didn’t even ask about her. He should have, though, shouldn’t he? Course, with Ben dead, he probably thinks nothin’ else matters.”
“Would you be upset if I looked through Cloris’s belongings?”
“Not at all, but since the trunks are stored overhead, I’ll be needin’ your help getting to them. Can’t much navigate a ladder these days, what with the arthritis.”
“You don’t need to navigate anything. Is there a space in your overhead attic for me to sit?”
“Small spot. Ben laid some plywood up there.”
I followed her inside to the hallway leading to the two back bedrooms. A cord hung from the ceiling, and I pulled down the attic ladder. Heat and dust whooshed out to greet me. Best time of day for this kind of work, I thought as I began the climb. The outside temperature had dropped below ninety.
“There’s a ceiling bulb. Just pull the string. Cloris’s trunks are black, if I remember right. While you start looking, I’ll be fetching you some water. Hotter than Hades up there.”
I turned on the light and found two footlockers within arm’s length. I settled cross-legged on the small wood platform and pulled the closest one to me. I opened the lid, and the smell of mothballs escaped around me. Neatly folded dresses and underwear, circa 1970, were piled to the top of the trunk. I began searching through the clothing—Cloris was apparently a small woman—but found nothing of interest except two miniature teddy bears that looked like they had never been touched, much less played with.
Before I could begin on the next trunk, Ruth appeared at the bottom of the stairs with the much-needed water. I was already sweating like a polar bear in Hawaii.
“Find anything?” she asked.
I climbed halfway down to retrieve the glass. “Not yet.” I gulped down half the water and turned to climb back up.
