The Undertaker's Daughter (Ilka #1)(59)

Ilka reached for her watch; it was almost eleven. Quickly she swung her legs over the edge of the bed. “What’s breaking loose?” She wrapped her father’s striped robe around her and stumbled over to open the door.

“It’s best to let her tell about it,” he said, his voice serious. “She’s just come from the police station.”

Not a word about what had happened yesterday. Nothing in his expression, either. That was fine with her. “Give me two minutes.”

She shut the door and pulled her clothes on. Before rushing down, she hurriedly gathered up the clippings spread out over the floor and tossed them back in the box. She was getting used to people invading the room whenever they felt like it, but she didn’t want anyone to see she’d been delving into her father’s life.

Coffee! The smell hit her as she stepped into the arrangement room, and her stomach cramped from hunger. Shelby stood at the window, her back to the door, gazing out at the parking lot. She looked so tense that Ilka hesitated a moment before walking over and putting her arm around the woman’s shoulder. “What’s the matter?”

She turned to Ilka. She’d been sobbing, and her face was pale, on the edge of collapse. “It was Phyllis Oldham who paid my son,” she whispered. “She gave him twenty thousand dollars to leave town, even though she knew he didn’t kill Ashley Simpson.”

The words came out of her mouth, but it was as if someone else were speaking them. Her expression was frozen.

Ilka held her close before leading her carefully over to an easy chair and pouring her a cup of coffee.

“The police came this morning and asked me to follow them to the station. They felt I had the right to know after everything we went through back then. The young officer asked if I had someone who could take me down there, but I don’t. I thought about you and Artie, but it’s Sunday, and I didn’t want to bother you.”

“You can call us, anytime,” Ilka said. “But what happened?”

She sat as stiff as a board, her eyes unfocused as she spoke. “Last night Phyllis Oldham came to the police station after most of the policemen had gone home. She admitted she’d pressured Mike to take the blame, but he wouldn’t do it. So instead she offered him money to leave town, to make it look like he did. I knew it wasn’t him.”

Her hands were clenched. “There wasn’t any evidence, either. She’s a witch, and this is only happening because both her sons have been arrested. If it hadn’t been for them, she’d never have confessed.”

Ilka poured herself a cup of coffee and grabbed a few small cookies from the bowl before leaning back in her chair. She was determined to let Shelby talk, even though she couldn’t make sense of the woman’s story.

“It’s terrible you can get away with something like that, just because you have money,” she wailed, her voice firmer now that she was worked up. “They destroyed my son’s life. Our lives. And then when he comes home after so many years because his sister is dying, they kill him!”

Her pale cheeks reddened; tears streaked from her eyes.

Ilka reached across the table and held her arm, her fingers gently stroking the sleeve of her green blouse, buttoned at the wrist. “Who was Mike supposed to take the blame for?” she asked, her voice low. “Why did Phyllis Oldham try to make it look like it was your son?”

After a moment, Shelby looked up. “Because her husband killed Ashley.” Her voice was so cold that Ilka pulled her hand back. “Phyllis told the police she saw him walking down from the fisherman’s cabin when Ashley was killed.”

Ilka pushed the box of Kleenex over to her and waited as she pulled a few out. She blew her nose and dried her eyes; then she cleared her throat. “Phyllis told the police it was a coincidence she saw him on the path from the cabin. She’d wondered about it; it’s not a place he normally went to. Later, when she heard about Ashley, she put two and two together. But she didn’t say anything.”

“And now finally she tells this to the police?”

Shelby nodded and pursed her lips but quickly got hold of herself again. “She’s only doing it because she hopes to get her sons out of jail. By sacrificing her dead husband.”

“And what do the police say about this coming out now?”

“Phyllis says she kept quiet because of her children, the funeral home business, and the family reputation. She made her choice, to be the silent wife. She did nothing. Except she likely drove him to his death, little by little.”

“What do you mean?”

“Douglas Oldham hung himself in the embalming room.” She paused for a moment to let her rage and despair die down. “The oldest son found him. I think the whole town knew he’d taken the easy way out. The story was that he suddenly felt sick and lost consciousness because of the dangerous chemicals. But everybody talked about a rope. It was rough on the sons.”

“What about the daughter?” Ilka asked.

“Carlotta has always been a mama’s girl, but of course it affected her too. After his death, it seemed like the boys sort of dropped out, and it wasn’t long before they left to go to school. They didn’t come back until they were grown and ready to enter the business.”

“So all these years your son was gone, Phyllis Oldham knew her husband killed the young girl?”