Джанет Кантрелл - Fat Cat At Large

That must have been the signal for the procession. Everyone on the wooden pews rose. The funeral workers, two men in dark suits, wheeled Torvald’s casket down the aisle on a gurney. Barely audible under the organ music, one of the wheels squeaked, complaining about carrying such a nasty man, Chase was sure.

The casket was followed by six men, the pallbearers. Chase didn’t recognize any of them, but that didn’t surprise her. She hadn’t known Torvald, himself, until he barged in at Gabe’s and accused her of killing him.

Behind them, a woman, bent nearly double with osteoporosis and leaning on a cane, made her way forward, helped by two younger people. The bereft expression on her wrinkled face gave Chase a paroxysm of guilt. Here she was, thinking horribly bad thoughts about a man who was someone’s child, someone’s son. The woman looked as if her heart would break. The young woman and even younger man, maybe a teenager, on either side of her looked sorrowful, too, but nothing like the old, bent woman.

After shedding the animosity she’d been feeling, Chase found room in her heart for pity for this family. Iversen seemed to have been a successful businessman. Maybe he had provided well for his relatives. Maybe they would miss him. Maybe they would even have a hard time getting by without him.

The woman’s progress was so slow it took a minute or two for her to reach the row at the back where Chase stood. It would take them forever to get to the front pews that were reserved for the family. Chase turned to watch the procession. The young woman wore black, but her dress was inappropriately short and tight for the solemn occasion. A neck tattoo peeked out of her low top. The teenaged boy wore slacks and a white shirt, but looked ill at ease in them. His expression was more glum than bereaved, Chase thought. He seemed angry. Maybe he was angry that Torvald was dead.

The service was mercifully short. A Lutheran minister gave a generic message about our fleeting time on earth and about not knowing when it would end, then everyone stood and recited the Twenty-Third Psalm, which was printed on the small cards they’d been given when they’d entered.

Chase turned hers over to find Torvald’s birth and death dates. It also said he was survived by his grandmother, sister, and nephew. The sister’s name was Elinda. That was the same name she’d seen in Gabe’s book. The nephew was listed as Felix. Those must be the three who had followed the coffin. Torvald was predeceased by his parents and a brother who must have been Felix’s father.

To Chase’s dismay, the family stood at the rear to greet the attendees as they left. She had hoped to slip out and avoid them. Chase hated funerals. Could she leave without going past them?

No, the doorway was too narrow to avoid the line funneling past Torvald’s relatives. The line moved fairly quickly, at least. When Chase came to the boy, she shook his hand and said, “So sorry.” The young woman, Elinda, was next. Her young face was attractive, but she wore layers of slathered-on makeup, her eyes surrounded by thick, greasy black hollows.

“I saw your name in Gabe’s visitation book,” Chase said, taking her hand.

To her shock, Elinda’s pretty face crumpled and she suppressed a few sobs.

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.” Chase patted the hand she held.

“I’m gonna miss him so much.” Her voice was thin through her tears.

Chase fished a tissue out of the packet in her purse and handed it to the woman, who swiped the mascara and eyeliner off her cheeks.

“Torvald must have been a good brother to you,” Chase said, still holding one of Elinda’s hands.

“Torvald?”

“You said you’ll miss him.”

Elinda sniffed. “Gabe. I’ll miss Gabe.” She drew her hand out of Chase’s and turned to the next person in line.

Chase gave her condolences to Torvald’s grandmother and fled.

• • •

Back in herapartment, she fixed more hot chocolate to ward off the chill she’d gotten from being out in the rainy weather, and from Torvald’s odd family.

Elinda would miss Gabe? She had to be Hilda’s floozy. Her clothing was tight enough and she had at least one tattoo. She might have known Gabe through her brother. Torvald was quite a bit older than Elinda. She must be his baby sister. Why would she want to hook up with Gabe, who was so much older than she was? He’d probably made her think he had tons of money. Maybe he’d thought he actually would have tons after he acquired the location of the Bar None and started doing more business. Chase thought about how strange people are.

As soon as she sat down to think about Torvald’s family, and Elinda, and to sip her cocoa, her doorbell rang downstairs.

Reluctantly, she left the steaming cup on the counter and hurried down the steps. When she cracked the door open, she was shocked to see Doris standing in the cold rain. She was shocked that Doris would visit her, but even more shocked by the woman’s appearance.

Doris usually wore quite a bit of makeup. What was left of it was streaming down her face in orange and black rivulets.

Chase threw the door open so she could get out of the rain. Doris stumbled inside and Chase caught the fumes. She realized Doris had had more than she should to drink. The woman stood just inside the door, swaying, not even wiping the rain from her face.

“Mrs. Naughtly,” Chase said, “would you like to come in and sit down?”

Doris nodded, wordlessly. She looked about to cry. Although she may have been doing that already. It was hard to tell with the rain and makeup streaking her cheeks. Chase guided her to a stool at the kitchen work island, but Doris was so wobbly sitting there, they moved to the office and Chase pointed to her desk chair, complete with a back and arms. All Chase needed was for Doris to fall from the stool, conk her head on the floor, and sue the Bar None.

Doris took off her raincoat, handed it to Chase, and sank into the chair. There were hooks inside the back door, so Chase shook out the raincoat and ran to hang it there. She didn’t want Doris messing with her computer or looking through her desk, but when Chase ran back, Doris was sitting motionless, hunched over with her hands between her knees. She looked frightened.

When a long minute passed without Doris speaking, Chase said, “Is there something I can help you with?”

The look Doris gave her was tragic. “Yes. No. How could you? I don’t know.” She shook her head and a few drops of rainwater flew to the floor. Her dyed blonde hair, usually stiffly sprayed, was soaked and hung in limp, dripping hanks. “They’re all dead. I don’t know what’s going on.”

“You mean . . . Gabe?”

“And Torvald. They’re both dead. I don’t understand it. Could it be my fault?”

“Your fault?” Had she killed both of them? “Why do you think that?”

“I quarreled with Gabe. Violently. Then he died the same day.”

“You quarreled with Torvald, too?”

“Yes.” The word was almost a cry. “It was just a fling, he said. Then he . . . insulted me. Then he was dead.”

The wind picked up outside and flung rain against the back windows. Was everyone in Dinkytown having affairs?

Doris started coughing and Chase ran to get her a glass of water. Doris sipped it and that seemed to help her spasms.

“How would quarreling with them make you think you killed them?” Chase asked. “Did you, well, did you attack them? With knives?”

“No!” She looked at Chase with horror. “No, not me. But maybe . . .”

“Maybe who?”

Doris shook her head slowly enough that no more raindrops flew from her hair. “Ted. Ted knew I’d fought with Gabe. He saw me leave and even told me he’d hidden my jacket so the police wouldn’t think I murdered him.”