Hearse and Gardens Read Free

whispered, “Who’s the nincompoop?”
    â€œHey, sir,” I said.
    â€œCall me Uncle Harry, young lady.”
    â€œUncle Harry, it’s Meg. I met you last week when Elle brought me here for tea. I’m stumped. Please tell me, what’s the difference between a basset hound and a bullfighter?”
    Uncle Harry stood perfectly still. He opened his large mouth and started to wail. His upper dentures separated from his gums and fell to his lowers. He mumbled with tear-filled eyes, “I don’t know, I just don’t know. What’s the answer? Tell me.”
    I couldn’t stand to see him so distressed, so I fudged it. “A basset hound is a dog and a bullfighter is full of bull.”
    He readjusted his teeth. “Yes, that’s it. By Jove, you’ve got it.” He closed his mouth and scooted toward the rear hallway. To my astonishment, he touched a section of mahogany paneling, and the wall slid open. After a few clanks with the walker, he disappeared inside an elevator, and the panel slid back in place.
    Celia said, “Where the hell is that nurse of his? Why do we pay her such an exorbitant salary? She can’t even keep track of him.”
    A curvaceous woman, looking the opposite of any nurse I’d ever seen, sauntered down the ornate winding staircase with a tray in her hand.
    â€œNurse. There you are.” Celia walked to the bottomstep. “Are you going to keep tabs on my husband or just let him roam about willy-nilly?”
    Nurse’s hair was long and wavy, in a striking shade of russet. Despite the fact she looked to be around forty, her huge breasts looked perky beneath her sweater. “He took the elevator while I was fixing his bath. And Celia, the name is Brandy, not Nurse. As you know, I’m also Harrison’s personal assistant, who just happened to have taken nursing classes after he fell ill.” She looked at Detective Shoner but didn’t say anything.
    I could picture Celia and Brandy in a catfight.
Meow!
    â€œHarrison’s probably back upstairs by now,” Richard said.
    Detective Shoner opened the front door. “Enough of this. Elle and Meg, please show me what you found.”
    We led Detective Shoner to the bungalow. He put on a pair of gloves, opened the door, and walked inside. We tried to follow but he shooed us away.
    â€œAren’t you cold?” Elle buttoned up her coat and pulled up her hood, the feather on her hat long gone. In this buffeting wind, I was surprised her hat hadn’t followed suit.
    â€œI’m good.” I was shaking, but not from the cold. My insomniac middle-of-the-night trips to the beach, dressed only in pj’s and a robe, made me immune to foul weather. “So, whose body do you think we found?”
    â€œForget that. Look, someone’s coming this way. Maybe he’s the killer?”
    â€œWe don’t know anyone was murdered. Maybe the door got stuck.”
    â€œRight. And the bookcase magically moved on its own to block the door.”
    â€œShush.”
    As the man got closer, I saw he was in his forties and ruggedly handsome. He reminded me of Gregory Peck in
To Kill a Mockingbird
—my favorite movie and book. He held a walking stick in one hand and in the other a clear plastic bag filled with sea grass, roots and all.
    â€œHello, ladies, is there something I can help you with?” I was pretty sure I’d read his lips correctly. Elle said nothing, no doubt thinking this man with a heavy five-o’clock shadow was a serial killer.
    â€œNo, we’re okay. Just waiting for someone who had to step inside.” I didn’t disclose the fact a homicide detective and a skeleton were in the bungalow.
    Elle said, “And who are you?”
    â€œI’m the Falkses’ neighbor. And you would be?”
    â€œElle Warner, Harrison Falks’s great-niece.”
    â€œWe have to be careful with who comes and goes around here. We get a