THE FUNERAL

“Mandy would have loved the flowers,” whispered Isla as she stood a little ways back from the casket.

“Oh, I know, they are to die for,” whispered back Karen. A heartbeat later, her hand flew to her mouth, and her eyes widened in shock as she heard her words reverberate in her head. If she could only take back her insensitive words.

Isla stared at her and then quickly looked around at the mourners nearby to see if they had overheard Karen’s uncensored words.

“Oh my Gosh,” sputtered Karen. “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m so sorry. I feel terrible. I’m such a fool. All I meant was…”

“ Don’t worry about it. I know you didn’t mean it … that way. I understand completely. Funerals are difficult at best. The grieving, the stress, and trying to find the right words to say. Sometimes things just come bubbling out of our mouths that we wish we could take back,” reassured Isla.

“But I say dumb things all the time.”

Isla chose to ignore that comment

“You are correct in that Mandy would have loved the flowers,” agreed Isla. “Especially that spray of pink roses.”

“Those were her favourite flowers.”

“I checked the little card, they are from George, of course.”

Isla glanced over to the other side of the coffin, where George, Mandy’s husband, was presiding with a few of his relatives.

Mandy had only one living relative, her cousin Ron, who was standing close to the coffin like he was guarding it, as he kept one hand resting on the polished surface. His face was bowed in sorrow. Not only was he Mandy’s only relative, but he was also the town coroner and had the misfortune of finding and identifying her body. It was therefore a double blow for him. Mandy had been close to Ron, and they had grown up together, their childhood properties abutting each other. Most of the other mourners were co-workers or neighbours.

“Well, I must say, George is standing up rather well under the circumstances,” said Isla. “I wonder who that little redhead clinging to him is? He must have a red-head fetish or something.”

“Yeah, first Mandy and now little Miss hair dye in a bottle, who has a death grip on his arm. Oh, crap, I’ve gone and done it again,” said Karen shaking her head.”

“I told you, don’t worry about it,” assured Isla.

“ She is probably Mandy’s replacement. He certainly didn’t waste any time. He’s such a…”

“Sh! Here comes the minister”, cautioned Isla.

The Reverend Brown wove through the group of mourners with a sad but polite smile, inviting them into the nearby chapel and garden to the reception celebrating the life of Amanda Clark. He shook hands and then moved on to the next group of bereaved friends.

Karen looked around and lowered her voice even further. “Do you see the way that tramp is clinging to him? And Mandy, not even cold yet. That’s disgraceful.”

“Ok, let's not jump the gun, it could be one of George’s family, a sister or a cousin or something.”

Karen snorted inelegantly, “Bet you any money that's the next Mrs. Clark.”

Isla quickly and tactfully led Karen away from the group of mourners to a more secluded spot where they pretended to look at a small floral arrangement at a tombstone a short distance away.

“You were Mandy’s best friend; she must have confided in you,” inquired Karen.

“You know what they say, Don't speak ill of the dead.”

“I don't want you to speak ill of Mandy; just Mandy's jerk of a husband,” hissed Karen. “I’m pretty sure that he abused her. You can tell me. I mean, if she confided in you about it, it wouldn't be like you are betraying her confidence, like she's… not here anymore.”

Isla looked dubious.

“Well, we both know that we both hate George. So that's a start”.

“ Okay, okay, but you can’t tell this to anyone.

Ever!”

Karen made the childhood gesture of ticking the lock and throwing away the key. “Okay, it’s in the vault,” she said.

Isla looked around again, to make sure they were still out of hearing of the other mourners. It looked like many were headed over to the chapel for the small reception to commemorate Mandy's life.

“Mandy was a proud person; she never liked to draw attention to herself or stand out in a crowd. Although she worked primarily alongside me, I’m sure that when you saw her at our weekly meetings, she just sat quietly and seldom offered any comments. If she had any ideas she would come to me and I would present her ideas. She didn't care about the glory if the boss liked her idea.”

“Yeah, but you always told the group when it was her idea.”

“She was my friend, that's what friends do. Support each other. That's why I never said anything to anyone else when I started noticing that she was coming to work with black and blue marks all over her body. Sometimes on the hottest days, she would wear a long-sleeved sweater, but when the sleeve fell back when she reached for something, I would see huge bruises on her arms. Sometimes she would be caked in makeup, and from a distance she would look fine, but when you share a small cubicle, you notice these things. Most of the time, she would eat lunch at her desk so she wouldn't have to eat with the group and skirt around their questions.”

“Oh, that’s so sad. I always figured that something was up. We usually got to work around the same time and often took the same elevator up. I would see her walking slowly and carefully like she was hurt. A couple of times I asked if she was okay, and she would just shrug me off and say she had fallen while jogging or fell on the ski hill or something. Then she would hide her face in a file folder that she carried until I got off at the floor below where you guys worked.”

“Well, like I said, it's pretty hard to hide things when you share a cubicle. She used some of those excuses on me, too. Finally, one day, I just told her outright. ‘I’m not stupid, I know what's going on at home, and if you need a shoulder to cry on, I’m there for you. If you need to vent, I’m there for you. And if you need a hit man, well, I’ll go to some dive bar in the downtown slums with you and help you hire some shady guy named Guido to do the job.’ She thought that was hilarious, the part about the guy I made up named Guido. She has a, had a … great sense of humour. After that, we became best friends. We used to go for a run on our lunch break at the park just down the street, and she would sometimes vent. I know she didn't tell me everything, but she told me enough to know that some men are the devil incarnate. It made me appreciate my husband, Nate. Nate is kind, loving, and has never harmed a hair on my head.”

“Same with my Pete,” stated Karen. He’s gentle as a lamb and still sweet on me after six years of marriage. When I hear things like this, I just want to thank my lucky stars that I don’t have to live in an abusive relationship.”

“Well, she's out of it now. God rest her soul.” Karen continued. “Do you know if she ever considered leaving him, divorcing him?”

“She told me once that George didn’t believe in divorce and would never have agreed to it. How ironic is that? He didn't believe in divorce, but he believed in beating his wife at every opportunity. He beat her so bad a few weeks ago that she was off work for a week.”

“Oh,” cried Karen. “I heard that she had gone to visit her sick Grandmother.”

“Well, that’s the story she manufactured, but he actually put her in the hospital.”

“NO!” cried Karen.

“Yeah, she told me that it was getting a lot worse lately and she thought that he was cheating on her.”

“Oh, the poor thing. She should have just left him. She should have left him long ago. A leopard doesn't change its spots. It never gets better.”

“Apparently, according to George, it was all her fault; he was never in the wrong. It was, you know, those sad cases you hear about where men say, ‘You made me do it. If you hadn’t done such and such, then I wouldn’t have had to resort to correcting you.’ It's like something out of a book or a movie.”

“I guess it’s all too real for some people. Personally, I would have found a way out.”

“I wonder…” started Isla.

“Wonder what?” asked Karen.

“Oh, nothing, nothing really.”

A look of shock crossed Karen's face.”Do you think George?” She looked around, then continued in a whisper. ”Do you think George might have…you know… offed her?”

“Karen, you have watched too many movies,” laughed Isla quietly.

“Well, if a guy isn't shy about beating his wife to a pulp and putting her in the hospital, then maybe he’s not too shy about … you know … doing away with her. Especially if he’s got that little fake red-headed side piece hanging around, if you know what I mean.”

Isla sighed. “To tell you the truth, when I first heard about Mandy’s death, that was my first thought.”

“Holy smokes. So I was right? What's George doing walking around? Why isn’t he in jail?”

“No, no. George had an iron-clad alibi. He was in the hospital at the time, getting his tonsils out of all things.”

“Are they sure? I mean … we just saw him, he looks fine?”

“Yeah, I checked with Mona, my friend who works at the hospital. She is on the surgical wing, and she saw him in person. She said he was such a big baby; usually it's pretty much an in-and-out procedure, a one-day surgery type thing, but they kept him overnight, so it definitely wasn’t George offing her, as you say.”

“Too bad, he could use a little jail time if you ask me”, said Karen offhandedly.

“If you ask me, he could use a lot of jail time,” retorted Isla.

“Too true.”

“So, how did you find out about it?” Asked Karen.” I only found out about it when I got to work the next day.”

“It's a small town, everyone pretty much knows everybody's business around here to some degree. As you probably know, the only family that Mandy had was her cousin, Ron Colt, the town coroner. That’s him standing by the head of Mandy’s casket. He actually stopped by my home after dinner the day it happened and told me that Mandy had been struck by a hit-and-run driver and had passed away. She was in bad condition, which is why it’s a closed casket.”

“How awful,” sighed Karen. “Look, why don’t we head over to the chapel to the reception, and hang out with some of our other co-workers? I’m starting to get hungry. Funerals always make me hungry.”

“ You know what, I think I will stay out here a while longer, it’s such a beautiful day, and I could really use some alone time.”

“Okay, suit yourself,” commented Karen as she started walking towards the chapel.

Isla found a secluded bench a short distance from Mandy’s casket. It was a nice, peaceful place, partially enclosed with flowering bushes, creating a cozy nook that offered her the privacy that she craved. As she peered through the bushes, she could still see Mandy’s cousin Ron, standing by the coffin.

A moment later, a small figure wearing large sunglasses and dressed in unrelieved black, parted the bushes by the open grave and walked towards Ron. A person dressed in black was not a startling sight at a cemetery, but the figure was wearing track pants and a hoodie, which were not the usual type of clothes seen in a cemetery. Ron looked around and then moved towards the figure and enveloped it in a hug. This is curious, thought Isla.

She almost missed it. The wind whipped through the cemetery, and for one brief moment, the dark figure's hood fell back, and Isla caught a glimpse of long red-gold hair before the hood was hastily pulled forward over the hair.

Isla’s heart beat faster, and she gasped in shock. She couldn’t believe her eyes and stared at the figure, who, after giving Ron the brief hug, beat a hasty retreat through the bushes from whence they had come.

Isla sat with her eyes wide open, not daring to move. The figure could then be seen traveling along an adjacent pathway through the intermittent brush.

As I live and breathe, thought Isla, either I have seen the ghost of Amanda Clark or Mandy has finally found her way courage and with the help of her cousin, the coroner, has devised a devious plan to escape and gain her freedom.