Death by the Light of the Moon by Joan Hess

Author:Joan Hess
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: St. Martin's Press
Published: 1992-10-17T04:00:00+00:00

9

As we entered the house, Officers Dewberry and Puccoon pulled off their hats. Their expressions were befittingly respectful (or toady, some might opine) as they asked me to find Mr. Stanford and inquire if they might have a word with him.

While I was debating which way to go, Pauline glided out of the parlor. Her face looked less puffy than it had earlier, but the only signs of color were two asymmetrical circles of rouge. The plaid housedress had been discarded for a dark gray dress. “Oh, here you are, Cousin Claire. We’ve all been worried about you.” She began to sag as she saw the policemen by the door, but stiffened herself and inclined her head. “Good afternoon, gentlemen. Is there something you wanted?”

“They want to speak to Stanford,” I said. “I was just going to look for him.”

“He’s using the telephone in the library. I shall be happy to convey any messages to him,” said Pauline, attempting to seize the role of mistress of the manor and run with it.

A stumbling block came out of the hallway. “Yes?” Maxie said to the policemen. “I thought we’d passed beyond the necessity of police intervention in this most stressful period of mourning. Has Cousin Claire”—ping, ping—“brought you here for a purpose?”

“They gave me a lift,” I said, then went into the library before she could get out a single incredulous snort.

Stanford was indeed on the telephone, barking as furiously as a hound that had treed a raccoon. “Don’t give me this crap! What do you mean we can’t have the service until Monday? Are you telling me that some old cleaning woman’s more important than Miss Justicia Malloy?” He paused. “I don’t care how long that old woman’s been dead! Three days, five days—so what? You’ve got a refrigerator, don’t you?” His cheeks ballooned as he paused again. “So pack some dry ice in the coffin, for pity’s sake. Nobody’ll notice, anyway. If she was a hundred years old, she started to decompose a long time ago. You listen up, and listen up good, buddy boy—my great-great-grandfather practically founded this parish, and not once since then has the Malloy family been treated with such disregard! You either reschedule that other service or be prepared to kiss your overpriced casket business good-bye!”

He slammed down the receiver and wiped his forehead, all the while cursing most creatively. When he spotted me, he spread his hands in apology. “I don’t believe I heard you come in, Claire. I was havin’ a slightly heated conversation with an ol’ friend about funeral arrangements.”

“And when is the funeral to be held?”

“Not till Monday morning at eleven, damn it. He’s got some mummified woman who died early in the week, and he was trying to act as if she was more important than my dear, departed mother.” He wiped his eyes, and, in a ragged voice, added, “May she rest in peace as soon as possible.”

“The two police officers would like to speak to you,” I said,

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