Travis. How did he find me? Jennifer’s brain froze after that thought. It felt as if time stood still she was so frightened. The expression on his face masked nothing—dark and sinister he held her gaze. She couldn’t move or speak; she felt like a deer in the headlights. She could only watch. He took a step toward the funeral coach.
“Cripes,” said Sue. As she grabbed her phone, Travis turned and walked the other way.
Jennifer didn’t listen to Sue’s conversation. She tried to watch him as he walked down the street and turned the corner, but with the coach a few cars back he disappeared quickly. Jennifer’s heart slammed against the walls of her chest. Her shoulders curved in with the ache. When the light changed and Sue pulled into the intersection, Travis was gone.
“He must have ducked into one of the buildings or had a car waiting,” said Sue in frustration. “We can’t follow him. I have to get you back to the funeral home.”
A squad car approached in the other lane, lights flashing and turned down the street Travis had gone. Sue acknowledged the officer with a nod.
“I cannot believe the nerve of that man,” barked Sue. “He was taunting us. He can’t know his guy was apprehended, not yet. He knew our route. Knew you were in the hearse.”
“Maybe the guy who handed me the envelope texted or called him.”
“We’ll know soon enough, once we get our hands on his phone.”
“Let’s check the note when we get back to the funeral home.” Jennifer tried to settle her racing mind. “I want to take a photo.”
“There’s an officer on the way to pick it up. They’re probably waiting for us.”
“Then I’ll open it now. I tried not to touch it. I didn’t even notice if the man had gloves on or not.”
“He did. That’s what made me suspicious. I saw him put them on as he stood at the edge of the crowd.” Sue exhaled slowly, her anger diminishing. “I think Detective Sergeant Gillespie is expecting an intact envelope.”
“Then don’t look while I open it,” said Jennifer. “I don’t want to compromise the investigation, but I do need to know what’s going on.”
“Fair enough,” said Sue, her eyes on the road as Jennifer opened the envelope.
It is not death, but dying that is terrible.
Jennifer read it aloud then pulled her phone out and snapped a photo just as they pulled into the funeral home. She had to take the photo twice, her hands shook so much.
“Where should I park?” asked Sue.
“Back the coach into a spot close to the garage behind the building.” Jennifer noticed a car parked near the garage.
“There’s our mailman.”
Jennifer watched as a plainclothes officer got out of the vehicle and took the note from Sue. Sue unlocked the door and the officer and Sue led the way into the funeral home, checking carefully for signs of an intruder. When they were satisfied it was clear, they chatted for a few minutes in the lounge. Jennifer went inside and straight to her office. Her hands still trembled as she did a Google search. She looked up the quote: it was by Henry Fielding, author of Tom Jones.
Glancing at the time she realized she had about an hour before the bank manager came. She needed to decompress, do something physical and mindless. She took off her jacket and started vacuuming. The physical work helped push her anxiety into the background. I
haven’t seen Sue for a while, thought Jennifer about halfway through her task. She turned off the vacuum. Walking towards the lounge she could hear Sue talking to Marcia, laughing about something together. Jennifer allowed herself a smile. Probably Ryan, she thought. She decided to let them visit and went back to work.
Cleaning up after a funeral tended to make her a little sad for her families. The hard part for the family, the long days and nights, holidays were ahead. The funeral was just the beginning of the journey. She was lost in thought when Marcia came up behind her and tapped her on the shoulder.
She shrieked so loud even Marcia jumped. They both burst out laughing as Sue poked her head around the corner.
“It never fails,” laughed Marcia gleefully. “I get her every time. Coffee’s on, let’s sit for a minute.”
Jennifer settled into her favourite club chair with her coffee.
“That was a good funeral. The staff did well, you were cool, calm, and collected,” said Jennifer.
“Did you see Mr. Whitney hovering on the sidelines?” asked Marcia. “I think he was hoping for an epic fail.”
“I did notice the grave set-up was perfect this time,” laughed Jennifer. “Once word gets out that we own two funeral homes the poor man will be apoplectic.” She looked at Sue and Marcia. “So what were you two yakking about?”
“Ryan,” said Marcia. “Sue has all the inside information.” She and Sue grinned at each other. “He is so task-oriented and such a perfectionist, I told you about his apartment. When he leaves his office his staff will move the stuff around on his desk. It make’s him nuts. He has a little statue of a hockey player they turn around and put it in odd places. Gremlins.” She laughed happily.
“What are you doing for supper Marcia?” asked Jennifer.
“I was hoping Ryan would be free but he thinks he might be working late.”
Sue and Jennifer exchanged glances.
“Why don’t you join us upstairs for dinner. I haven’t decided what it’ll be. I have a meeting with the bank manager in a few minutes, but we can figure it out,” said Jennifer.
“It’s my turn to make dinner,” said Sue. “Leave it with me.”
The three of them chatted quietly until the bank manager arrived, right on time. As Sue double-checked the lock on the garage door, Marcia went to the front office to call Elaine and Desta at Williams Funeral home, assuring Jennifer she’d lock the front door at 5 p.m. if she wasn’t finished her meeting.
Jennifer ushered Mr. Putnam into the lounge. He appeared to be a self-assured middle-aged man, tall, balding, and fit. His handshake was firm and he looked Jennifer straight in the eye. If nothing else, he comes across as sincere. He accepted a cup of tea, and after exchanging pleasantries, he got right down to business.
“You are positioned to become a very successful business with the purchase of an additional funeral home,” said Mr. Putnam. “We have the services and investment opportunities to make your business grow.”
“At this point in time, I’m interested only in a mortgage.”
Mr. Putnam cleared his throat. “Well, yes, that’s our first order of business.”
It’s our only order of business, thought Jennifer.
“Your solicitor, Mr. Duncan has done a thorough job. I have his documents here. Perhaps I should explain them to you.”
Jennifer felt herself stiffen. She did her best not to let frustration get the better of her but she’d had enough for one day, and listening to a banker trying to sell financial services and go over details that had already been covered was not on her to-do list. It was going to take all she had to be polite and kind.
“Of course,” she said, not meaning it. He was just trying to do his job, after all.
Mr. Putnam, having taken centre stage, launched into a detailed explanation of the offer to purchase and the mortgage. As Mr. Putnam droned on, Jennifer’s mind started to wander: What was Travis doing on that corner? Did he know Sue was her bodyguard? He kept creeping into her thoughts.
Jennifer willed herself back to the discussion as she sensed Mr. Putnam finally starting to wind down.
“We have prepared the mortgage documents. Mr. Duncan received a copy. We couriered them to your sister.” He handed her a copy.
Jennifer looked at him, trying not to focus on the shiny spot on the top of his head. She nodded and accepted the papers.
“I’ll go through them with my sister and Mr. Duncan by the close of business tomorrow. I assume Anne can present to one of the bank branches to sign her copy?”
“Of course. Now, in addition to the mortgage I have an insurance offer. Let me explain it.” Off he went again, droning down his list. Again, Jennifer willed herself to focus. It didn’t last long.
Is Travis serious about trying to kill me or is he just posturing? If he wants the money back what purpose would it serve to kill me, the police have it. It’s gone. Then again, he killed two people who worked for him over money—or did he? He’s greedy and vengeful. Maybe we could set a trap for him. Maybe I should stay out of it? Her inner turmoil and inside voices were distracting her from the business in front of her.
She tried not to yawn. There was no point dwelling on Travis or making a decision about the mortgage and insurance or investments she wasn’t ready for when she could barely think straight. Jennifer decided she’d heard enough. Mr. Putnam would have her undivided attention at signing. She waited for him to pause and cut in.
“You have certainly done a thorough job on the mortgage and insurance, Mr. Putnam. I will look through it all tonight and call you tomorrow to set up a time to sign it.” Jennifer stood up to signal the end of the conversation.
Mr. Putnam collected his portfolio and Jennifer walked him to the door, where he shook her hand again. After she locked the door behind him, Jennifer walked to the front office and sat down. Her thoughts were scattered. No point in trying to sort through the mortgage details tonight, she told herself. You’re tired and you need to sleep. She headed upstairs to join Marcia and Sue.
After a pleasant dinner Marcia excused herself. “It’s been a long day, I think I’ll head back to the cottage.”
Sue rose to walk Marcia to the car, tucking her police revolver in the waistband of her track pants.
“I’ll come down with you,” said Jennifer. “It’s a lovely evening and I can take out the garbage.”
After saying goodbye to Marcia and putting the bags in the dumpster, Jennifer wandered around the lot, picking up bits and pieces of loose trash. At the edge of the property she stooped to pick up several bags and papers. The neighbour, an elderly man she knew as Simon, was sweeping his driveway.
“Good evening Simon,” she said pleasantly. “I trust the crowds over the past day didn’t disturb you too much.”
“Not at all missy. I went inside your place to see Mr. Gordon. He was the mayor once you know.” Jennifer loved it when he called her “missy”, it was sweet and endearing.
“I’m sorry I missed you. I would have said hi. How are things with you?”
“Good, good. Putting a little aside for a trip to visit my sister next week. Much easier to do now that I have a boarder.”
“That’s a smart idea. You have a large house, gives you a little extra income.”
“Yes indeed, it’s only for a few months. Never see him, he has a night job. Roxie doesn’t like him though.” He chuckled. Roxie was his fat cat, a lump of a tabby who usually just sat in the window and watched the world go by.
“Is Roxie going to your sister’s with you?”
“Oh yes, yes she is. Can’t go away and leave my Roxie behind.” A smile lit up his face. He adored his cat.
“Jennifer,” called Sue over by the garage door. “Phone call.”
“Gotta run Simon. Give Roxie a hug for me.”
“Bye missy.”
Jennifer tossed the papers into the dumpster and met Sue at the door. “It’s Detective Sergeant Gillespie. We’ve been talking, he’d like a word with you.”
Taking the phone Jennifer said, “You wanted to speak to me?”
“Yes. I’d like to stop by if I could.”
“Of course.” He disconnected and Jennifer shook her head scowling.
“He’s on his way?”
“He’s on his way,” Jennifer confirmed, the fatigue showing in her tone. She didn’t really want to speak with him—she was “peopled out” for the day. What she really wanted to do was curl up with a book and Grimsby and shut out the world for a few hours.
Detective Sergeant Gillespie arrived at the funeral home in short order. He, Sue, and Jennifer took a seat in the lounge. He turned to Jennifer.
“You’re sure you saw Travis today?” Not hi, how are you. Just like Anne.
“I am.”
“So am I,” said Sue. “No doubt whatsoever.”
“Well, there was no sign of him when the patrol car searched the area. If it was Travis, his behaviour seems to be escalating. How could he have known you were in the hearse?”
Jennifer didn’t answer, neither did Sue. It was more a statement than a question.
He continued, “The man who handed you the envelope at the cemetery said he didn’t know who gave it to him. Claimed he was approached by a man, in a bar. It was dark. He agreed to do it for a hundred in cash. He also claimed it was the only time. Very cliché response.”
“No idea if the man in the bar fit Travis’ description?” Sue asked.
“No. It’s possible the man who was at the City Hall parking lot is the one who handed you the note at the cemetery, which makes his story questionable.”
“Wasn’t that a rental car?” asked Jennifer. “Any idea who rented the car?”
“Can’t trace it,” said Ryan. “The person who rented it used a stolen credit card.”
“Did the signature on the rental form match Travis’ signature?” asked Sue.
Ryan shook his head no as he let out a long, deep sigh, the exhaustion of the past few days still etched on his face.
They sat in silence for a bit, each lost in their own thoughts. Jennifer put her elbow on the arm of her chair and propped up her head. She was tired, fed-up, scared and angry riding a roller coaster of emotion. She broke the silence.
“He’ll slip up at some point.”
Sue looked at Jennifer. “I hope so. In the meantime, we have to be on guard every minute we’re out of the funeral home.”
Jennifer stood. “I’ll let you two continue the conversation. It’s been a long day. Good night Detective Sergeant.”
Jennifer slogged upstairs, put the kettle on and stood at the patio doors, looking out over the darkening street. As her tea steeped she wandered around the apartment, looking out each window. He has to have someone watching the funeral home, she thought. I think Sue and I need to be checking the street carefully for a parked car every day from now on. She picked up her tea and sat on the couch. Grimsby jumped down from behind and sat beside her. She thought about the day ahead.
Tomorrow we have the visit with Winter. Brent will let us know about the position. Tomorrow Anne and I sign the mortgage for Williams Funeral Home. I have to go to the crematorium ... But if Travis has his way, tomorrow could be my last day on earth.