Book Excerpt:

Ruth wasn’t picking up her phone, so we provided the address to the rest of the attendees and asked that they give us a half-hour head start before driving over. That way Sarah, Arial and I would be there to alert Ruth before the herd – a very small herd, albeit – showed up expecting to be fed and watered.

But when we arrived, the modest white brick ranch house was dark, and nobody answered when Arial climbed the steps to ring the doorbell.
Gloria and Sophie, not being the patient kind, had slipped into my Escape to ride with Sarah, Arial and me.

‘There are no lights on,’ I observed as I held the car door for the two octogenarians to climb out of the back seat.

‘Like I said,’ Sarah said as Arial returned to the car. ‘You don’t know Ruth. Or Edna. Probably saving on electricity.’

Arial lifted the tailgate of the Escape and pulled out her backpack. ‘Do you have a key, Sarah? I’m not exactly sure where I put mine.’

‘Ruth gave me one years ago, but it’s at home somewhere.’ Sarah went to the front door to push and hold the doorbell. ‘Ruth should be here.’

‘Did you hear the doorbell ring?’ I asked, joining her at the door.

‘No.’ She was still holding it.

‘Then maybe let it go and try again?’

She did, but I couldn’t hear anything either. So I rapped.

‘Maybe she’s at the back of the house and can’t hear us.’ Sophie was standing with Gloria at the convergence of the walk leading to the front door and the one to the side driveway. ‘Where is the kitchen?’

Sarah stepped back. ‘At the rear of the house, as a matter of fact. Overlooking the back yard.’

‘Like in most of these little ranches,’ Gloria said, starting around.

‘Wait,’ Arial said, hurrying to intercept her. ‘Let me go first. There’s a fence along the driveway in back, so you have to go through a gate to get into the back yard. And there are no lights.’

It was barely seven thirty, but I agreed it was still too dark for a couple of octogenarians to be poking around. ‘Sarah and I will go with Arial. You two stay here.’

‘We’ll cover the front door,’ Gloria said, nodding.

‘What?’ Sophie said to her as we passed. ‘You think Ruth’s going to make a run for it?’

‘It is dark back here,’ I commented as we followed the driveway. ‘Ruth should put in a motion detector light.’

‘“And have that thing flashing on and off every time a blessed squirrel walks by?”’ Arial was parodying her mother or grandmother, I assumed.

‘“Damnable waste of money”,’ Sarah continued for her.

‘“Besides giving the thieves a good view of what there is to steal. Let ’em use their own flashlight.’’’ Arial unlatched the gate as she and her aunt dissolved into giggles.

The two of them may not have spent much time around Ruth and Edna lately, but they sure had their imitations down pat.

Me, I really was concerned about the lack of light, but mostly because there was none inside the house where the kitchen should be. I hitched myself up to peer into the window next to the door, but all I could see were shapes and shadows. ‘If Ruth was to pick up Arial and the two of them come directly to the funeral home, was somebody else staying here to prepare the supper?’

‘You mean like a caterer?’ Arial said. ‘I doubt it.’

‘Ruth said she was just doing cold things,’ Sarah said. ‘Salads and sandwiches.’

‘Maybe she had car trouble or got in an accident on the way to get me?’ Arial was mounting the back concrete stoop to the door. ‘She didn’t answer any of my texts or calls.’

‘Mine either.’ Sarah’s voice sounded worried in the dark. ‘Is the door—’

‘Unlocked. Some things never change.’ Arial pulled open the door and stepped in, flicking on the wall switch. ‘Hello?’

The overhead light now on, we could see packages of paper plates and plastic cups on the table, along with a roll of plastic wrap.

Sarah went straight to the refrigerator and pulled open the door. ‘Deli cold cuts, tuna salad and . . .’ She pulled plastic wrap off the top of a bowl, ‘Ruth’s bacon and tomato macaroni salad.’

‘She probably made that last night,’ Arial said. ‘She always said it was better the next day.’

So there had been family mealtimes in the Kingston house. And maybe even parties.

I was glancing around. A bag of Dutchy-crust rolls and loaves of wheat and rye bread stood ready on the counter, but nothing was sliced or laid out. ‘No sandwiches are prepared. Would Ruth have done all that and put everything in the refrigerator before she left to go to the airport?’

‘Covered with the plastic wrap,’ Sarah affirmed, picking up the rolls on the table.

‘The car’s not in the driveway,’ Arial said. ‘Maybe it’s in the garage.’

‘I’ll go look,’ I said quickly, having stumbled across a body or two in a garage.
I was out the door before anybody could argue the point.

Flicking on my phone light, I saw there was a side door into the garage from the yard. As I approached it, I couldn’t detect the sound of a running engine. Not that it meant anything. Ruth was supposed to pick up Arial hours ago, which meant that an idling car might have run out of gas by now.
As I opened the door, there was only silence, and no smell of exhaust. I flipped on the light and approached the driver side of the SUV, holding my breath.
And let it out. Empty. I felt the hood of the car. ‘And the engine’s stone cold,’ I said to myself.

I was relieved Ruth hadn’t committed suicide on the day of her mother’s wake – unlikely anyway, given she’d purchased cold cuts and other groceries for the post-visitation supper. But still, the SUV’s presence in the garage was worrisome.

‘Maggy?’ Sarah called from the door of the house, her voice sounding under-powered and hesitant.

‘Car is still here in the garage,’ I said, ducking back into the house. ‘Empty,’ I whispered to Sarah as I passed, just in case she’d been entertaining the same dark thoughts.

But Arial was standing hunched over the sink.

‘Did she just get sick?’ I asked Sarah, identifying the stench. I put my hand on the girl’s shoulder. ‘It’s OK, Arial. There’s nobody in the car. Maybe your mom—’

‘Check the bedroom.’ Sarah’s left hand was over her mouth as she gestured toward the hallway with her right.

There were three doors off the hallway – one to each side and another straight ahead. The door to my right was open, so I stuck my head in there first. The room smelled sweetly stale with a pong of bleach and disinfectant. Edna’s room, judging by the hospital-style bed set on the opposite wall with a commode next to it. A dresser with a mirror above . . .

But no.

Despite my sense of urgency, I stopped to stare. The ‘mirror’ was actually a painting of the reflection of the dresser top at another time – a Tiffany lamp on a lace dresser scarf and a folded piece of ivory stationery, its envelope torn and cast aside, was painstakingly depicted where now only a discarded bedpan sat on the same white dresser scarf.

‘Any sign of her?’ Arial’s voice called weakly.

Shaking off my moment of unintended art appreciation, I returned to the hallway and the opposite door.

‘Ruth?’ I called, knocking on the door perfunctorily before cracking it open.
The curtains were drawn, but I could see a shape in the bed.

‘Ruth?’ I said again, as Sarah and Arial entered the hallway behind me.

‘She’s sleeping?’ Sarah asked, peering over my shoulder. ‘What the—’

I held up a hand and crossed the room, my heart pounding in my ears.
Ruth Kingston was lying motionless on her stomach, head hanging partially off the bed. As I went to feel for a pulse, I registered the pool of vomit on the floor, along with coagulating blood from a two-inch gash on Ruth’s right temple.