W is for Wasted (Kinsey Millhone 23)

I did a cursory search of another five boxes before I lost heart. Dietz was right. I wasn’t getting paid, so why bust my butt? I suppose I’d been hoping to find a fat manila envelope filled with spare cash, but apparently among the treasures Pete clung to, money wasn’t one. It wasn’t noon yet, but I was hungry. I was also grubby enough that I longed for another shower. There’s something about used paper and old storage containers that leaves you feeling chalky around the edges. I trotted myself up the spiral stairs, stripped down, and started my day all over again, emerging from the hydrotherapy feeling happier. I swapped out my sooty jeans for fresh and pulled on a clean turtleneck. I knew Rosie’s would be open for lunch, so I grabbed my shoulder bag and a denim jacket and headed out. I was in the process of locking my door when I spotted William out of the corner of my eye.

He was sitting bolt upright in an Adirondack chair, wearing his customary three-piece suit, starched white dress shirt, and a dark tie, carefully knotted. He had his face tilted up to absorb the October sunshine, and his hands rested on the cane he’d propped between his highly polished wingtip shoes.

“Hey, William. What are you doing out here?”

“I came to visit Ed.”

“Is he here?”

William opened his eyes and looked around. “He was a minute ago.”

We both did a quick survey, but there was no cat to be seen.

“Where’s Henry? I’m assuming you’ve met his houseguest.”

“Anna’s your cousin, isn’t she?”

“A cousin of sorts. She lives in Bakersfield unless she’s decided on a permanent change of residency. I take it they’re off someplace.”

“A beauty-supply shop. They’ll be back in a bit. You don’t care for her?”

“I don’t. Thanks to her I got stuck with a huge bar bill and then she tried bumming a ride with me. I had no intention of driving her down here so what does she do? She takes a bus and now she’s moved in next door. Don’t you think that’s pushy?”

“Very. I don’t like pushy people.”

“Neither do I.”

I pulled over a lightweight aluminum lawn chair and sat down next to him. “How’s your back doing these days?”

“Better. I appreciate your concern. Henry’s bored with the subject and Rosie thinks I’m faking it,” he said. “Actually, now that I have you here, there’s something we ought to chat about.”

“Sure. What’s up?”

“I just returned from a visitation and service at Wynington-Blake.” His tone had shifted at the mention of the mortuary.

“I’m sorry. Was this for a friend of yours?”

“No, no. I never met the man. I came across his obituary while I was waiting for my last physical therapy appointment. Gentleman named Hardin Comstock. Ninety-six years old and he was allotted one line. No mention of his parents or his place of birth. Not a word about hobbies or what he’d done for a living. It’s possible there was no one left to provide the information.”

“Who paid for the funeral?”

“He took care of his own expenses before he passed. I admired his forethought. I think he might have hired a small band of professional mourners. There were three people there who didn’t seem to know each other, let alone the man to whom they were paying their respects. Tastefully done, I must say, except for the inclusion of that unfortunate hymn, “Begone Unbelief.” Never cared for that one. Rhyming the word ‘wrestle’ with ‘vessel’ strikes me as unseemly.”

“Well, yeah.”

“I was the only other visitor, so I felt obliged to sing along. When I came to the word ‘wrestle,’ I hummed instead. I couldn’t help myself. I hope you don’t think I was out of line.”

“Well within your rights. No question. Entirely up to you,” I said.

“Thank you, though that’s not what I wanted to discuss.”

“Ah.”

“After the service, your friend Mr. Sharonson took me aside, expressing his concern that you hadn’t yet met with him to discuss arrangements for your family member.”

“Family member?”

“Terrence Dace.”

“Oh, Dace. Oh, him. I’m sorry, I drew a blank. I was focused on Hardin Comstock and the reference threw me. I did have Dace’s body transported from the coroner’s office, but that’s as much as I’ve done. I’m postponing decisions until I hear from his kids, which might get tricky. It’s hard to say at this point.”