"Yes, dear."
"I see you're wearing the same depressing colors Jane's wearing. What happened to your plaid shorts?” Sadie said.
"Jane surprised me with a new outfit.” Mr. Bakke looked down and sighed.
"If you want my advice, stick to what you usually wear. You look much better in plaid shorts and Hawaiian shirts than in those washed out colors. You and Jane look like twin cadavers."
"No, he doesn't,” Jane said, dismissing the comment with a wave of her hand. “Quit telling him stuff like that. I don't want him looking stupid like you."
"Before Nan knocked on the door, you said you were in the mood for rhubarb crisp,” Jane said. “Why don't you dish some up?"
"Why don't you? Just because you've got a crack in your ass doesn't mean your legs are broken,” Sadie said. She crossed to the cupboard and selected four forks and placed them on the counter.
Belly pawed at her leg as she jabbed one of the utensils into the dessert pan. She offered a forkful of rhubarb crisp to the impatient dog. Belly lapped at the fork before snorting and backing away. He expelled a slobbery sneeze that sent crisp flying in all directions.
"You know you don't like rhubarb,” Sadie said, swiping at a glob that had landed in her hair. “I don't know why you insist on tasting everything we eat."
Sadie pushed a plate toward her guest. Nan said, “None for me, thank you. It's one of my favorites, but I don't have much of an appetite."
"You've been awfully quiet,” Jane said. “Is something wrong?"
"I'm not sure.” Nan pulled a folded envelope from her pocket and placed it on the table. “I've got something to discuss with you. Actually two things."
Sadie placed forks in front of Jane and Mr. Bakke before setting their desserts on the table.
"I've told you before I've been dating Paul Brinks and that the frequency has intensified,” Nan began.
Mr. Bakke shot a glance at Sadie before looking back down at his plate and grabbing his fork.
"You also know that with Carl's lawsuit pending, I might lose the land lease for the mortuary."
The elderly trio nodded their understanding.
"I'm afraid I find myself making a decision based on the love of my profession, rather than on what I should base it on.” Seeing their concerned expressions, Nan said, “Unfortunately, because of Carl Swanson, I'm leaning toward a decision I might regret later."
"I don't understand what you're trying to tell us,” Jane said. “What does Carl have to do with this?"
"Because of Carl, we're looking at an uncertain future.” Nan 's face tensed. “That was until last night when Paul asked me to marry him. We'd talked about marriage in the past, but I wasn't ready. This time his offer was so lucrative, I didn't think I'd be able to turn it down. But then I found this. Now I don't know what to think.” She pointed at the envelope.
"Oh, my dear…,” Jane began, but Sadie held her hand up to interrupt her sister.
"We have something to talk to you about, too,” Sadie said.
"Maybe you didn't understand. Paul officially proposed last night.” Noticing the serious expressions on their faces, Nan 's concern deepened.
"We understood,” Sadie said. She pointed at the envelope. “What's that got to do with Paul's proposal?"
"Do you remember when some of my clients were shocked to learn their life insurance polices weren't worth what they thought they were?” Nan pulled her chair closer to the table. “They were positive they had purchased policies with larger death benefits."
"I vaguely remember,” Sadie said, hoping Nan would validate what she and Theo had discovered.
"It's happened twice recently. Both of the policies were with a company named Gessal Life Insurance. This Gessal Life envelope was in Paul's car. I picked it up by mistake."
Mr. Bakke shifted nervously in his chair.
Sadie nodded in understanding. Nan asked, “You're familiar with that company?"
"I am. And I'm afraid we've got bad news for you."
28
"Oh, now what,” Sadie moaned, pulling the shuttle van up to the curb. She crossed her arms over her chest and assumed a defiant stance as she waited for Carl to get out of his cruiser.
Knuckles rapped against the sliding door. She stared out the windshield refusing to acknowledge him. After a second rap she shouted, “What's the matter, Carl? Are you so hard up you decided to frisk me?"
A voice said, “Pardon me, Sadie?"
Sadie grabbed the lever and the door swung open. “Sorry Lon. I'm so used to Carl pulling me over, I thought it was him."
Tipping his hat brim with his pen, Lon said, “That's quite the hairdo you've got there."
Sadie patted her hair. “Thanks. I like it, too. It goes nice with these shorts, don't you think?” She tipped her head and pointed to her glasses. “See the mustard speckles in these frames. Goes good with that, too."
The deputy raised his eyebrows. “Sure does."
Sadie's sandals slapped against her heels as she climbed out of the van. “I'm guessing you didn't pull me over for a friendly visit. But I'd be up for one if you've got the time."
"That won't be necessary.” Lon grinned. He looked down at Sadie's high-heel clogs and flipped open the cover on the citation book. “It seems you didn't bother to stop at the last three red lights. You're lucky you didn't cause an accident."
"Oh I never stop at those lights. They're there for the tourists."
"Hmmm,” Lon responded. “I thought everybody was supposed to stop when the lights turned red."
"Nope. Just the tourists. Those of us who live here know where we're going. That's why we don't have to stop."
"I didn't know that,” Lon said, biting at his lip and turning to avoid eye contact with the mustard-embellished woman.
Sadie climbed back up the van steps. “Well now you do."
"Wait a minute, Sadie. I don't think you understand. I have to issue a ticket because you ran three red lights. In all honesty, I should issue three tickets."
Frowning as she backed down the steps, Sadie said, “You're just like that good-for-nothing Carl Swanson. You're harassing me like he does. And here I thought you were a nice young man."
"I guarantee I'm nothing like Carl. I'm not harassing you. I'm doing my job."
"Picking on a helpless, old lady isn't doing your job."
"Trying to make sure no one is injured when someone runs a red light is part of my job. You could have caused a serious accident.” Lon shook his pen. “For your information, insulting me by comparing me to Carl won't help your case. That's hitting below the belt."
"I saw you going door to door campaigning for that loser yesterday. Why isn't he doing his own campaigning?” Holding a finger up and looking over the top of her glasses she said, “It's because he's busy playing the skin flute again, isn't it? I'll bet he's played every song ever written. My daughter told me he was always trying to get her to play it, too."
Smiling broadly as she observed Lon's shocked expression, Sadie said, “Why would you campaign for him if you don't like him?” The look on Lon's face answered her question. “He's got something on you, doesn't he? He's forcing you to do it?"
"Never you mind,” Lon said. He wrote on the citation tablet.
"I bet I know what it is.” Sadie's eyes darted with excitement. “My friend Elmer at the nursing home told me a rumor last summer about you roughing up an Indian and almost losing your job. Elmer knows everything. He gets the gossip from the nursing home staff."
"Carl framed me. He twisted the facts and made me take the blame for what he did. I couldn't afford to lose my job so I had to go along with it."
Sadie placed her hand on the citation pad and grabbed the pen. “I'll trade you information if you promise you won't write that ticket."
"I can't do that,” Lon said.