10

Mr. Bakke lifted the deceased man's shoulders while Nan slid an adjustment block under him to incline the body for better drainage. The elderly gentleman removed several tools from the drawer and placed them in a stainless steel tray.

"Looks good,” Nan said. She checked the entrance incision for the embalming tube. She reached up and moved the overhead light into position before inserting the arterial tubing. Nodding toward Richard Fossum, she said, “His sister called this morning. She'll deliver the clothing for the family tomorrow afternoon."

Nan removed the cap from a jug of embalming fluid. “I can't imagine what Richard's sister is going through losing three loved ones at the same time."

"It's going to be one humdinger of a funeral.” Mr. Bakke raised his eyes to meet Nan 's.

"I've been so busy, I can't remember if I asked you to assist with the wake as well as the funeral. If I didn't, I apologize. I don't mean to take you for granted.” Nan reached for a scissors and snipped the plastic tubing at an angle to accommodate the end of the pump's nozzle. “I'm glad Richard's sister agreed to one funeral rather than three separate ceremonies. I agree with her. It's easier for everyone to come together all at once. Some of their family's coming from quite a distance."

Mr. Bakke patted Nan 's hand. “You did ask for my help and I'll be here. Jane sent my suit to the cleaners, so I should be good to go."

The embalming room door swung wide as Belly butted it with his head. He crossed the floor, with his nose skimming the tile. The dog snorted a wet spatter against Mr. Bakke's sandals before inspecting the far corners of the room.

"That dog seems to know how to get in when there's no possible way,” Nan said. “Aanders must have left the door open again."

Belly made one final turn around the room before clacking his nails across the tile floor and grunting his way up the stairs.

"Apparently he didn't find what he was looking for,” Nan said.

"Apparently,” Mr. Bakke said, raising his gaze toward Nan and then back to the body on the table.

Nan closed the cooler door as she pushed the second cart into the center of the room. “Aanders asked me a question the other day I couldn't answer. He was wondering when Belly actually claimed ownership of the Witt sisters?"

Tipping his head in contemplation, Mr. Bakke said, “I would guess it was about seven years ago. My memory isn't that good, but I think it's been that long. Now he thinks he owns them."

Mr. Bakke handed Nan a catheter. “Once in a while I'd see him standing on the property line between Sadie's cabin and his other owners’ house. He looked pathetic. He'd sniff toward his other owners, bark at them, and then go back to Sadie's. Sadie said he was giving them one last chance to beg him to come back."

Nan grinned as she pictured Belly's indecision. “Sadie still insists Belly isn't her dog."

"That's true,” Mr. Bakke said. “But don't kid yourself. Sadie loves that old dog. She uses it as an excuse when someone complains about Belly or when Carl threatens to fine her for not having a dog license."

Nan turned her attention back to Richard Fossum. She had retrieved his body from the hospital morgue several hours after retrieving Tim and his mother. Even though all three died at the scene, the coroner insisted on performing an autopsy on Richard to rule out substance abuse as a possible cause.

Mr. Bakke's hand brushed the autopsy sutures as he ran his gloved hand along the embalming tube. “I sure hope the results come back negative. I never knew Richard to be a drinker. His sister will have a hard time accepting it if alcohol was the reason. Or drugs."

"He was devoted to his family,” Nan said. “I've always admired the way he treated Aanders like one of his own. He's been a Godsend since Aanders’ father walked out on us. But I do have to say he seemed distracted when he picked Aanders up for the movie."

"Had he been drinking?"

"If I'd have thought that, I wouldn't have let Aanders go."

Mr. Bakke opened his mouth and then hesitated. Taking in a deep breath he said, “You know the Witt sisters think of me as family."

"I know that, Mr. Bakke,” Nan said, smiling at the elderly gentleman.

"They tell me everything."

Nan looked up. “Meaning?"

"They told me about Lon Friborg investigating on his own. I'm guessing that isn't public knowledge, but they shared it with me because I'm family."

"You're right. I told them about Lon in confidence,” Nan said. “I hope you're going to keep it to yourself."

"I will. You can trust me."

"Lon was in again this morning. He wanted to look at Richard's body,” Nan said.

"Did you let him?"

"Of course. I didn't see any reason not to. If I'd have found anything suspicious during my initial prep, I'd have called the sheriff.” Nan looked up at Mr. Bakke. “You know that's my policy, don't you?"

"I do,” he said. “I wouldn't expect you'd find anything. Not much escapes our coroner. Did Lon find anything?"

Nan removed a length of tubing. “I don't think so. He did tell me Richard's sister was furious with him when he asked if he could have access to Richard's papers."

"Why?"

"Apparently she resented the implication that Richard might be involved in something,” Nan said.

"I don't think that's why Lon wanted to see the papers. I'm guessing he's trying to prove Richard had an enemy."

"I agree. But I think Richard's sister was so overwhelmed she took it the wrong way."

"Speaking of accessing papers,” Mr. Bakke said, “have you made any progress on finding that man who pulled a fast one on your dad?"

"Not yet. I'm still not sure what happened, but before Dad died, he spent a lot of time researching patents. I got the impression Dad actually designed something, but the guy filed the patent in his own name instead of Dad's. Dad never got credit."

"And you have no idea what it was?"

"Nope. When Dad caught me looking over his shoulder, he slammed the folder shut. He was either embarrassed he was duped, or he found out the guy made a fortune on the invention. Maybe it was someone local and he didn't want anyone to know until he had proof. I'm waiting to hear from the patent bureau."

Nan and Mr. Bakke's heads raised simultaneously as Belly's shadow crossed the basement window. Nan chuckled. “Do you think Belly ever sneaks back to his real home?"

"Would you if they didn't feed you?"

"No wonder he chose the sisters. By the looks of him, he hasn't missed a meal since he moved in.” Nan began the repair work on Richard's face. She primed a handheld mechanism before securing his jaw into position with the spring-driven needle injector. She returned the tool to the metal tray and leaned closer to examine her work. “Didn't Belly's original owners ever complain that he opted to live with the sisters?"

"They bullied a few times with idle threats. But when Sadie told them she'd turn them in for cruelty, they didn't bother her anymore. In fact, when Belly sees them now, he turns and runs the other way. I think he's afraid they're going to make him come back."

The phone rang and Nan listened to footsteps above as Aanders crossed the floor to answer the phone.

"Mom?” Aanders shouted down the stairs. “Jane and Sadie want to know what time you'll be ready for them. They want to talk to you."

"Tell them to give us another half hour."

"How's Aanders doing?” Mr. Bakke said.

"As well as can be expected.” Compassion tugged at Nan as the agony of her son's sorrow engulfed her. Tim had been a constant presence in Aanders’ life. Having a friend as popular and athletic as Tim had made it easier for Aanders to endure the taunting he'd suffered from his peers. At times, living in a mortuary had its benefits. But those times were rare. Aanders was courted yearly around Halloween when his friends wanted to prove they were brave enough to touch dead bodies or when they wanted to see who could endure a dead body when the lights were turned off. The rest of the year he was the mortician's son. An outcast.