“I owe you all an apology,” Shirley said. “The whole gobbledegook thing wasn’t your fault at all. I went to the doctor yesterday after I visited the cemetery, and he decided to take me off the blood pressure medication. He said it was possible that I was talking funny from the medication, plus the power of suggestion. And he was right. It just kicked in. I was walking down the street, coming to the bakery to buy bread, and I felt something go ding in my head, and it was like this week never happened.”
“Gee, that’s great,” I said to Shirley. I looked over at Glo. “Isn’t that great, Glo?”
“Yeah,” Glo said. “That’s great.”
Clara moved behind the counter. “What kind of bread do you want?” she asked Shirley.
“Rye without the seeds.”
Clara bagged a rye bread and handed it to Shirley. “It’s on the house.”
The back door opened and closed, and Diesel and Carl moseyed in.
“Shirley can talk,” I told him. “It just happened.”
“Congratulations,” Diesel said.
“Sorry I went goofy at the cemetery,” Shirley said. “What was it you wanted to ask me?”
“I wanted to know about Phil’s funeral.”
“It was just an ordinary funeral,” Shirley said. “A short ceremony at the funeral home chapel and then a few words at graveside. I didn’t know any of the people.”
“Was anything buried with Phil? A keepsake or a photo?”
“Not that I know, but it was a closed casket. The viewing was closed casket, too. I guess he left really specific instructions about all that. I barely got here in time. He died, and the next day I was on a plane. The lawyer sent me a ticket. And then Phil had an evening viewing, and he was buried the next morning.”
“Do you remember the funeral home?”
“It was Chippers, but they’re not here anymore. Old Mr. Chippers died last year, and his kids sold the business.”
“Anything else?”
Shirley took a moment. “That’s all. Except he had a special casket. I guess he picked it out himself and had it waiting. I think that’s kind of gruesome, but it seems Uncle Phil had his quirks.”
“Can you describe the casket?”
“Dark wood. Like mahogany. And lots of carvings. Vines, flowers, bugs. Very ornate. And a big eye on the top of it.”
Shirley left with her bread, and Clara, Glo, and I exchanged looks that said What the heck am I supposed to think now?
“I suppose it could have been the blood pressure medicine,” Glo finally said.
“You never know how people are going to react to medicine,” I said.
“Anything’s possible,” Clara said.
Diesel put his hand to my neck and squeezed a little. Not hard enough to leave a bruise, but hard enough to get my attention. “You weren’t supposed to go out of the house without me.”
“No. That’s not entirely accurate,” I said. “You told me not to go out alone. And I’m not alone. I brought Cat.”
“Cat doesn’t count,” Diesel said.
Cat jumped to his feet, arched his back, and hissed at Diesel, showing dagger-sharp fangs.
“I stand corrected,” Diesel said.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT