The Undertaker's Daughter (Ilka #1)(44)

Ilka leaned a bit farther forward. “Are you saying she was doing it for money?”

Shelby straightened up, shocked now. “No, definitely not. I just think she liked the power she had over men who fell in love with her.”

Jealousy, Ilka thought. If the young girl had been easy, it wouldn’t have been the first time in history that a boyfriend or girlfriend lost their head.

“If you only knew how much hate there is in this town,” Mike’s mother said. She folded her hands in her lap again. When people heard that Mike had been the last one Ashley was with, they broke out all the windows in their house, she explained. “People threatened us; they wrote the most horrible things on the outside of our house. At first, Emma didn’t dare go out alone. But after her brother left, things settled down, thank God. Like people were satisfied with running him out of town. We weren’t welcome in our own church, either.”

She held her head and breathed deeply, all the way down into her stomach. “I can’t stand thinking about someone who hated my son so much, just walking around out there. How could anyone kill him? And last night, how could they…”

Ilka felt the woman’s loneliness, an icy chill slinking across the table “How did Ashley’s family react back then?”

“They were angry and heartbroken, of course. Her mother died a few years ago, but the police have talked to her father. He moved to a nearby town five or six years ago, when he and his wife divorced. She had a brother, but he left Racine a long time before this happened. The police officer said they’re trying to find him.”

Mike’s mother stared blankly for a moment; then she laid her hand on the photo album. “Artie promised I could see my son. I brought along the pictures he asked for.”

Ilka stood up. She was relieved the conversation was over, but Shelby’s story also confused her. “I’ll tell him you’re ready.”

The woman nodded, but she seemed uneasy. Her eyes darted toward the door, as if she didn’t feel quite ready after all.

“Here, please, have one.” Ilka slid the bowl of chocolates across the table. As if that helped. “He’ll be here in a moment.”

She hurried out the door. She felt like a coward.





19



Ilka kept knocking on the door of the preparation room until Artie finally came out. “I can’t let anyone view Mike right now,” he said. “He hasn’t been embalmed, so he’s in no shape for her to see.”

“Then you’ll have to go out and tell her. You had an agreement.” Ilka wheeled and walked away, but she heard Artie follow. “She has the photos you asked for. How do you think she feels about going in there to look at him? She’s pulled herself together to do it, and after what happened last night it’s probably not easier for her.”

“Okay, but—”

“If you want to send her home again, it’s you who has to tell her.”

“Give me a second here.” He walked over and washed his hands; then he took off his apron.

Ilka’s eyes widened. “Do you plan on talking to her wearing that?” She pointed at his Hawaiian shirt, the blazing colors, the parrots.

Artie ignored her and walked out, leaving her speechless.



Ilka stayed in the background as he gave Shelby a hug. “I’m so sorry about what happened last night,” he said, his arm still around her shoulder. “Believe me, it hurts to see you put through this; it was totally disgusting. And I’m sorry that someone could break into our building. We’ve had some problems with our alarm system, but of course this kind of thing shouldn’t be possible.”

He apologized again. Ilka had the feeling it wasn’t all about Paul’s daughter screwing up by opening the window so the cat could come in. Something else was going on. Maybe he was afraid Shelby might sue them for not taking better care of her deceased son; if she did begin thinking that way, it could turn out to be horribly expensive for them. Ilka let Artie keep talking. But then she heard Shelby wave off his apologies.

“The person who dishonored Mike’s body would have broken in even if you had bars on all the windows and doors. This happened because someone in this town still wants revenge.”

“I know what I promised you,” Artie said. He explained carefully that he couldn’t let her see her son after all. “Everything’s been delayed; we had to call the police after what happened last night.”

“You can at least let me see his feet,” she said. “That’s enough. He has two toes on his left foot grown together. I know you all say it’s my son in there, but I need to see it with my own eyes. I hope you understand.”

Artie nodded. “Of course. Just give me a minute. If you two would just step in there, I’ll bring him in.”

He pointed at the large chapel used for funeral services. It looked like a lecture hall, with rows of chairs filling the room, though the first row was filled with plush sofas. The entire room was in beige, even the ceiling and the soft carpet. Muted and austere in a way that couldn’t offend anyone or clash with any style or religious belief. The acoustics were good, thanks to a carpet so thick that you sank into it as you walked.

Ilka followed Mike’s mother inside and turned on the light. The vases were empty, and the pleated floor-length curtains were closed behind the catafalque that supported the coffins. A lectern stood to the right of the catafalque, and loudspeakers on stands were spread around the room so everyone could hear relatives talk about the person they had lost.