Dead for the Money (10 page)

Seamus was disgusted, with Gabe, with Mike, with Mildred, but mostly with himself. Instinct had told him this woman was too subjective to be a good investigator. Now she was proving it. Again.

Maybe they should return to the ship. The police would almost certainly call Dunbar’s death accidental. Reiner wanted to believe Bud had killed Dunbar, but the deputy envied Bud, the guy who had everything including the starting pitcher’s job Reiner had coveted back in high school. He might make noises about murder, but his superiors thought otherwise.

Was that enough for Dunbar? Was it sufficient to know that Bud would not be prosecuted, or did he want to learn what really happened? Seamus suspected he should stay until he could get to Bud and see what he was feeling. He’d have to work on it alone if Mildred insisted on sticking with Brodie, but he preferred working alone anyway. In fact, he wished he were alone on this job.

“Okay, stay with Brodie, but do
not
interfere with her thoughts. I told you before, it makes them think they’re going crazy. This kid doesn’t have far to go, so leave her alone.”

“I understand,” Mildred said pleasantly, and Seamus winced. It was the same sort of tone his wife used to use when she intended to ignore his advice entirely and do precisely as she pleased.

Chapter Seven

B
RODIE
AWOKE
FEELING
STRANGE
. It wasn’t the bolt of nausea she’d experienced yesterday, but she felt slow and sort of groggy. Then she realized why: today was Gramps’ funeral.

It was every bit as awful as she had imagined. She dressed in the new outfit Scarlet had bought her, a pair of soft black jeans (Scarlet knew better than to buy a skirt) with a gray top that wasn’t too disgusting. The shoes from Classens were okay too, although they felt constricting and heavy, unlike flip-flops. “You don’t want to slap-slap all over the church,” Scarlet pointed out. “We’re going for dignity here.”

Dignity sounded like something Gramps would have wanted, so Brodie pulled her black hair back with a black plastic headband, taming its wildness somewhat. The band felt tight, and in an hour it would press into her temples like a vise, but she had to try to look good. She turned to the bedroom mirror to see the total effect. Her reflection showed a skinny girl with bony elbows, a mouth that was too wide, and hair like one of Macbeth’s witches. “Ugly,” she said aloud
,
but from somewhere inside, a voice answered, “Pretty.”

“Yeah, right,” she told her mirror image. “Pretty ugly.”

But when she came down the stairs, Scarlet smiled approval, and even Bud seemed pleased with her appearance. Maybe he was relieved that she wasn’t too big an embarrassment.

The service went on forever. Arlis had prepared a little speech, of course. Then she asked some of Will’s friends to speak, and a lot of them were so old they didn’t know when to stop. The minister seemed to feel that he should have his time even if the others overran theirs, so it was almost two hours before they were done. Brodie tried to be patient, to remind herself that it was all for Gramps, but she knew that if he’d been there, he’d have dismissed it as pure silliness. She suppressed a sigh. Everyone said the funeral was the worst part. Maybe she’d feel better afterward.

S
EAMUS
JUMPED
FROM
Deputy Reiner to Scarlet as she passed him in the doorway of the lovely old Presbyterian church. Scarlet tensed in reaction, but her grip on Brodie’s hand did not falter. Seamus heard her thought clearly.
Poor little thing’s doing well for someone who hates crowds.

Scarlet McMorran had an appreciation of the good that life offers, and Seamus welcomed her spirited outlook after experiencing the confused Brodie and the negative Reiner. Scarlet was an optimist, and while Seamus couldn’t exactly call himself that, he appreciated a host with a bright outlook.

Not that Scarlet wasn’t affected by Dunbar’s death. He sensed, however, that her sadness came from sympathy for Brodie. Scarlet saw life and death as natural, and Dunbar had been old and apparently increasingly feeble.
He’s better off
, her thoughts said,
but Brodie isn’t
.

Questions flitted through Scarlet’s mind of what her own future might be, but Seamus sensed an assurance that seemed odd, given the situation. Scarlet glanced at Bud, who was talking to the minister near the door.
He could fire me
, she thought,
but he’d best not try it
.

As the attendees headed to their cars for the trip to the cemetery, Seamus looked for an opportunity to jump to Bud. To his frustration, Scarlet and Brodie remained apart from everyone else, apparently due to a promise Scarlet had made earlier. They rode to the graveyard together in Scarlet’s sporty little Chevy.

“Do you think he’ll let you keep the car?” Brodie asked when they were shut inside, waiting for the procession to line up. She was different when she and Scarlet were alone, almost like a normal young person. Not that Seamus knew many young people.

“I think Mr. Dunbar left it to me.” Scarlet started the engine and the AC went to work, providing a blast of cool air.

“Good. I wouldn’t want you to lose your wheels.” Brodie watched the funeral home attendants putting little flags on the cars. “Scarlet, do you like Bud?”

Seamus sensed confusion in Scarlet’s mind: embarrassment mixed with something else. He didn’t quite grasp it, but it made him uncomfortable. It was like a door had opened as he walked by a hotel room, revealing a passionate tableau he was not intended to see.

“I don’t know him very well.”

“Me neither. He’s always pretty much ignored me.”

“Bud was always good to your grandfather.” Scarlet checked the rear view mirror for pedestrians and then pulled away from the curb to join the stately parade.

As they followed the lead car Brodie asked, “So you don’t think Bud killed Gramps?”

“Brodie! How can you say that?”

“I heard the cops talking about it. One of them thinks Bud pushed Gramps so he could do what he wants to with the company.”

“You know Bud would never hurt your grandfather.” Scarlet downshifted as the procession began its slow passage through town. “He couldn’t hurt anyone.”

Brodie thought about that. “I saw him get mad once. He was pretty scary then.”

“Really? What made him so angry?”

Brodie lifted her headband slightly to ease the pressure. “When he was in high school, Bud was all about girls. He had this girlfriend, Candy.”

“Candy?”

Brodie rolled her eyes. “I know. Couldn’t you gag? Anyway, him and Candy—”

“Candy and he.”

“Right. Candy and
he
were gonna go somewhere one night. I heard him say it was a castle.”

Scarlet smiled. “A magic word.”

“Yeah. I was a kid then, maybe eight. Anyway, I wanted to go and see the castle too, so I got into the back seat of his car and scrunched down. I covered myself with an old blanket he kept back there, and he didn’t see me. He picked this Candy up, and we drove for a long time. I could hear them talking, but it was really dumb stuff like what band is the best and which teacher should be fired.

“It was hot back there, and I finally fell asleep. When I woke up, we were going through a town. I said something like, ‘Can we stop at that McDonalds before we go to the castle?’” Brodie chewed on her lower lip. “Bud went ballistic.”

“I can imagine.” Scarlet was having a hard time keeping a serious expression as she pictured Bud finding his adopted sibling stowed away on his big date.

“It was some concert they held at this place called The Castle, but they couldn’t go ’cause they couldn’t leave me by myself. They had to turn around and drive all the way home.”

“And Bud was angry.”

“Yeah. Really.”

“But he didn’t push you off a cliff.”

“I think he wanted to.”

“But he didn’t.”

“No. But he kinda was mad at me ever since.”

Scarlet braked for the turn into the cemetery. “Can you see why he was angry? It was probably going to be a really special evening for him, and you ruined it.”

Brodie smiled grimly. “That’s what I do. Ruin things.”

Seamus heard fragmented thoughts in Scarlet’s mind: consideration of where she should park, along the road or on the grass. Brodie’s natural tendency to think the worst of herself, which worried her. The question of whether the grass was still damp from the morning’s rain. And an odd little bump of jealousy for Bud’s long-ago girlfriend named Candy.

T
HROUGH
SOME
HORRIBLE
QUIRK
OF
FATE
, Brodie ended up seated next to Arlis at the graveside ceremony. One minute she was waiting for Scarlet, and the next, an attendant from the mortuary was ushering her to a chair beside the grave. There were only three: one for her, one for Arlis, and one for Bud. Everyone else stood around the gaping hole, trying not to look at the casket positioned over it.

Collin Marks stood across from her, and he smoothed his trim mustache with a familiar gesture. Collin had been around most of her life, but Brodie knew little about the man. He was the perfect lawyer, Gramps said, lacking strong opinions and wanting only to serve his clients’ interests.

Next to Collin stood Arnold, trying to appear sad but looking more bored than anything else. Arnold had weaseled a spot in Gramps’ car, probably at Arlis’ invitation. Bud had looked at Brodie as if to ask if she wanted to ride with them, but she’d stuck with Scarlet. Arnold saw her looking at him now and gave her what was supposed to be a brave smile. In deference to the occasion, Brodie did not put out her tongue at him, but she did not acknowledge their solidarity, either.

When all was ready, the mortician signaled a worker who pressed a switch that activated an almost silent device that lowered the casket. Arlis grabbed Brodie’s hand, digging her nails into the skin until it hurt. Arlis’ other hand went to her mouth, and she pressed it against her lips dramatically.
Like a soap opera actress
, Brodie thought.

Then her own distress rose inside her like a bubble in her chest. That was Gramps in the box. He was dead. He wasn’t coming back, ever. The pain of Arlis’ deep-red nails biting into her hand was almost welcome, almost enough to keep her from feeling the finality of the scene before her.

Now she felt like crying, but now was the one time she would not. People would see. They would know what she was feeling. And Brodie never wanted others to know what she felt.

S
CARLET
STOOD
BACK
, feeling that her place was not with the family. Still, Seamus concluded that Scarlet had liked old Mr. Dunbar. Her eyes lingered on the younger Dunbar, but with a force of will she lowered them, concentrating on the minister’s voice.
So Millie had one thing right
, Seamus thought.
The little tutor has designs on the new boss.

But maybe not. Scarlet worked hard
not
to think about Bud Dunbar, and the thoughts Seamus discerned were firm denials of any feelings for him. The more he put bits and pieces together, the clearer it became. Scarlet did not have plans for Bud’s future. The two had a past, which she was determined to bury, in a symbolic grave as deep as the real one before them waiting to be covered over.

Why?
he wondered, but Scarlet concentrated on the scriptures being read. Seamus caught only a snippet of judgment on Bud Dunbar’s character:
Snake.

A
S
SOON
AS
SHE
COULD
, Brodie escaped the guests who came for the funeral dinner. She forced herself to circulate once, putting up with fatuous condolences and even a few pats, although most people were leery of her and kept their hands to themselves. She tried to act in a way Gramps would appreciate and even managed to smile at Mr. Zimmerman, whom she disliked intensely. “Z” was an old business acquaintance of Gramps’ who sometimes visited for a weekend. Once, when Gramps was not around and Brodie was too little to stop him, he’d grabbed her and given her a “whisker rub,” scratching his stubbly face across her soft one in what he thought was a huge joke. She had repaid him by topping off the gas tank of his car with water from the garden hose.

Having paid respect to Gramps by tolerating his friends as long as she could, Brodie slipped upstairs, changed into shorts, a T-shirt, and her beloved flip-flops. As she came downstairs, Arnold was passing. “You were really good today, Brodie. Your grandfather would have been proud of you.”

What Gramps would really have been proud of was the fact that she bit back the acidic reply that came to mind. Instead she said, “Thanks, Arnold.” Then she left by the back door, avoiding Shelley’s eagle eye, and headed for the spot where she would really say goodbye.

Everything was a little damp from the rain, but Brodie liked that. She liked the smell of the earth and the extra-green color of the washed leaves. As she made her way to the viewing point, some of what the minister had said played back in her mind. Death was part of life. Those who died were gone, but those left behind still had what the dead had given them: love, joy, understanding. Gramps did not want those he loved to grieve forever. It was okay to enjoy the sunshine, okay to laugh.

Gramps had given her a life much different from the one she would have had. If not for him, she might not have ever known life had a good side. Though she tried to forget, scenes of horror played in her dreams, even in waking hours if she dropped her guard. The woman who seemed to hate her brought home a succession of men who either ignored Brodie or swatted her out of their way. She recalled hunger, a tattered blanket she wrapped up in at night, and a lumpy couch that smelled bad and made her sneeze. It all seemed unreal now, as if it had happened to someone else, but at times the mists parted and Jeannie’s voice would come to her, telling her she had ruined everything.