“Boring, like usual. I ordered flowers. I got a shipment of vases. No one had anything interesting or controversial. Have you had an update on Kathy Tucker?”
“I heard from the sheriff that she is still critical.”
“What were you and your gimpy arm doing today? Mary asked as they turned onto I-35.
“My day was pretty much like yours: same old, same old.”
“You’re awfully evasive tonight.”
“I need to make a trip to Redwood Falls tomorrow. I have to talk with Melissa Schotten face-to-face. I found out Aaron’s friends were partying at a house that some relative of hers owns. It looks like Aaron stole an ATV and drove it near there the day he disappeared. No one is willing to say they saw him there and I’m thinking there’s a skeleton in the closet.”
“Literally?”
“Maybe. I’d sure like to get a straight answer about what happened.”
“What do you think happened?”
“Aaron died there, or someone helped him disappear. One or more of the group knows or they wouldn’t be evading my questions.”
“Can’t you press them for the information? I mean, it’s been years since the incident and whatever happened is ancient history.”
“There’s no statute of limitation on murder in Minnesota.”
Floyd drove through downtown Pine City on the way to the apartment Barb and Sandy shared. Passing through town he noticed the hearse parked in front of the Johnson-Bradshaw Funeral Home and pulled into their driveway.
“Hang on for one minute. I need to talk to someone,” Floyd said.
“Your minutes sometimes get long.”
“Listen to the radio.”
“You don’t like the classical stations I choose.”
“I’ll change the station when I come back,” he said as he climbed out and closed the door.
“That’ll be harder when I reset all your stations,” she said to herself as she started a scan of the radio stations.
Floyd walked into the lobby of the funeral home and listened for signs of activity. Directly ahead of him was a viewing room and to his right was a lighted office.
“Hi, Floyd. What can I do for you?” Paul Bradshaw walked out of the viewing room. He was nearly fifty, but kept himself trim and neatly groomed. He wore a dark gray suit with a subdued blue tie. His short gray sideburns conveyed an air of maturity. They’d been gray for two decades and Floyd wondered if he’d been coloring them to look more professional.
“Paul, I have a question.” Floyd walked to the door and noticed the open casket surrounded by flowers at the north end of the room. “Do you remember Ken Solstad’s funeral?”
“A lot of funerals run together in my mind, but it hits even people in the mortuary business when a family loses a young person. Those funerals are hard to forget.” Paul gave Floyd a questioning look, “Why do you ask?”
“We’ve got some new evidence about Aaron Roberts’ disappearance. He was out with Ken and their other friends the night before Ken died in the car accident. I don’t know that there’s any connection, but I wanted to ask if anything unusual happened at Ken Solstad’s funeral.”
“Nothing unusual. It was a closed casket because of the… damaging effects of Ken’s accident. It was a very sad ceremony.”
“The casket was closed?”
“I retrieved the body from Iowa myself,” Paul explained. “They transported his body to a mortuary in Des Moines where I picked it up. Ken died at the accident scene. He’d been struck by several vehicles after being ejected from his car.” Paul paused, searching for the correct words. “The Iowa mortuary had attempted to embalm the body, but there was so much damage — I’ve seen a few who’ve been in worse shape.”
“So, you put him in the casket and closed it.”
“I tried to persuade his parents that they didn’t want to remember him as he was in death, but Karen demanded to see him as soon as I returned from Iowa. I had to unlatch the casket and open the lid. I’m sure Karen couldn’t recognize his face. She broke into tears and nodded. Alex didn’t want to look. I think he understood what I was trying to tell them.”
“Who identified the body?”
“I don’t know. I suppose the Iowa coroner made an identification based on the driver’s license and his size and hair color. They usually don’t bother to check dental records unless there’s some question…” Paul stopped mid-sentence. “You don’t think…”
Floyd shook his head. “Not really. I’m sure Ken was headed back to duty. Kathy Tucker saw him leave and I’m sure his parents did too.
“Was he buried here or at Fort Snelling?”
“Because he was on active duty, he was qualified to be buried in a national cemetery, but the family decided they wanted him interred in the family plot in the Birchwood Cemetery here. I dressed him in a uniform even though the casket was closed.”
“So, you had a service at the church and then buried him outside town?”
“Actually, we had a funeral procession to the cemetery, but it’s more expensive to dig the grave when the frost is so deep in the ground so we didn’t do the actual interment until spring. We had a small family ceremony in May. It’s so hard to go through it all again, but deep frost doesn’t leave us inexpensive or quick options. We used to have about a dozen interments every spring when we could dig. Now there’s better equipment to thaw the ground and bigger excavators so we can dig a grave regardless of the season.”
“So, you had a stack of coffins sitting in a warehouse waiting for warm weather?”
Paul smiled. “It’s a little more sophisticated than that. We have secure slots in a cemetery building. The caskets are carefully labeled, refrigerated, and stored under lock and key. You would certainly know if we’d ever had a problem, and I can assure you that we haven’t.”
“Do you open them and check the contents before you bury them?”
“No. The system is flawless. As I said, each slot and each casket is labeled, the caskets are sealed, and the entire facility is under lock and key. There’s no risk of a mix up.”
“Thanks, Paul. I’m relieved that you’ve never had a problem. I wouldn’t like to run an investigation of a missing casket.”
Floyd was back to the pickup in slightly longer than he’d promised. “You were gone for six songs,” Mary pointed out. “What was so interesting in the funeral home?”
“Just checking out their security system.”
“Security system? Who’d break into a funeral home?”
“Haven’t you heard? People are dying to get into them.”
“You’re a sick man, Floyd Swenson,” Mary said with a groan.
Floyd started the engine and pulled away from the curb. As he drove he selected a different radio station and was listening to a Mahler opus. He chose another button and heard Mozart.
“That was really cruel,” he said, turning the radio off.
“You need to do a better job of keeping me entertained,” Mary said with a mischievous smile.
CHAPTER 42
The cookout at Sandy and Barb’s was a glowing success. Sandy kept busy with the preparation of five porterhouse steaks, while Barb kept beer and drinks refreshed. Mary grilled Pam about the events that led to her colorful bruises and cotton-packed nose while they prepared salads.
“Barb’s a little keyed up.” Floyd said as he watched Sandy flip steaks on the grill.
“She said she’s never really entertained before. We’ve had people hang around and drink a couple beers, but formally inviting people over and preparing a nice meal is a big step for her.”
“Welcome to the world of the married and dull, Sandy. No fistfights will break out and I doubt that anyone will even raise their voice.”
“It’s kind of like a coming out party for Barb. The customers at the drugstore and I have been the extent of her social universe this past year. This opens a whole new realm of people that she and I will be socializing with. It is a big step past the two of us sitting around watching movies and eating pizza.”