THIRTEEN
All of the local mandarins were there with their darkest suits and warmest coats on to wish a final farewell to Edwin Ernest Neustadt, late of this parish. They stood on the graves of other men and women to press as close to the open grave as possible. From my pitch at the rear, I could recognize many familiar faces wearing their most solemn expressions looking across the plastic green grass that had been thrown over the disturbed earth. I’m sure that I would have known most of the faces belonging to the backs in front of me as well. The Niagara Regional Police was well represented. The police band played a slow march and the casket was lifted from a gun carriage by six strapping officers in their parade uniforms. Pete Staziak was standing near a tall monument that pointed skyward, with his expression blending into the uniformly sombre vista. A eulogy was read by a high-ranking Salvation Army officer, an old friend of the deceased. Neustadt had, he told us, in ample quantity all of the manly qualities. His word was his bond; his virtues beyond enumeration. His time with the police force had seen many important changes, of which Edwin Neustadt had been a part. He was seen as one of the architects of the Regional Police which succeeded the earlier, more primitive Grantham Police Force. Neustadt’s elderly widow stood steadfast at the grave-side, supported by a married daughter and her husband. A hymn was sung, or at least attempted, while the police band tried to lead, then to follow, the singing. We heard the ashes-to-ashes section of the burial service. Again the words hit me as though they were directed at me personally. The coffin was lowered into the ground and the widow shook the hand of the Salvation Army eulogist. After that, everything began to break up.
I had spotted Abram Wise standing beside Mickey and his wife a few rows in front of me. It was Victoria I saw first. Her dark hair was covered by a kerchief. Wise was almost hidden by the people standing between us. Mickey’s attention to his boss’s other business gave me a sense of relief. I felt almost free, and postponed a look over my shoulder to see who was in charge of keeping me in sight.
I stood my ground as the company dispersed. The bandsmen marched off smartly as did the uniformed police. But Staziak was still talking to a brother plainclothes officer across the open grave from me. He was rubbing his hands in the frosty air. Wisps of vapour told me which of them was talking even when I couldn’t see their faces. Staziak stomped his feet and plunged his hands into his overcoat pockets.
An old survivor of the police force was being helped away by a middle-aged man in a windbreaker. “Did I have a coat?” he asked, not noticing the one he was wearing. Even in civilian clothes, you could see that he’d worn a uniform for decades. He kept looking back over his shoulder. “Wasn’t there a woman with us when we came?” The man in the windbreaker moved him slowly away from the grave.
Wise too wasn’t in a rush to leave the grave-side. He was examining the faces of those who had come to assist, as the French say, at the funeral. He seemed to be amused when he discovered people staring at him. When his eyes reached mine, he stopped. “What are you doing here, my friend?” he asked when he had closed the distance.
“You are my business, Mr. Wise.” I nodded a greeting to both Mickey and his wife. Mickey smiled back. “You told me that you were coming to the funeral. I was interested to discover why.”
“Did you find that out?”
“Not yet, but I may get lucky. Too bad Chief Neustadt can’t tell me.”
“A lot of grief died with Neustadt, I’ll tell you, Mr. Cooperman. A lot of grief and evil! How are you coming along since we talked?”
“I think that I’ve eliminated the threat of embarrassment over that antique car. It will cost you, but I didn’t think that was a consideration. Your name won’t come into it.”
“My retarded son’s business is no concern of yours, Cooperman. I’ll deal with Shaw and York in my own way. I suppose you want to be thanked for your efforts, eh? But don’t forget why I hired you. You lose me and you won’t see a penny, I can assure you.”
“Thanks for the testimonial, Mr. Wise. I could get fat and rich on an endorsement like that.”
“Save your wit for your work, Cooperman. Good-afternoon.” He pulled at Mickey’s arm and the three of them moved through the thinning crowd back to a car parked somewhere on the narrow lane that twisted its way through the cemetery.
“You never know what you’ll find at a funeral!” I knew it was Pete without turning. He must have doubled around behind me, because I was still looking at the spot on the other side of the open plot where he had been standing.
“Hello, Pete. This is a bad day for the force. My deepest sympathy, Pete.”
“Thanks, Benny. Nice crowd?”
“I guess it’s a major loss, eh?”
“Old Ed had been retired from actively contributing to our efforts for some years, Benny. But this is the send-off he would have wanted: parade uniforms, muffled drums, slow march, all of that stuff. Ed liked the drill. Me, I don’t much care for the soldiery, all that military stuff. It leaves me cold.”
“All funerals do that. What took the late chief off to his reward, Pete? Some kind of accident, wasn’t it?”
“Deputy chief, Benny. He never made it to the top. He was acting chief for a year; that was enough.”
“That colonel from the Sally Ann gave him a first-rate send-off.”
“He’s a major, Benny, not a colonel.”
“I guess he was well-liked, eh, Pete?”
“He had a few fans, Benny.”
“Not enough to get him confirmed chief though?”
“Damned good thing too.”
“You must have liked him a whole lot to spill this much affection in the shadow of his cortège, Pete. What’s the story?”
“‘They tried to get rid of him years ago, but he wouldn’t go. He held us back for years. He was an old-fashioned cop, Benny. He couldn’t make the changes into modern times.”
“I thought he led the way to reform.”
“Eulogies, Benny. They take a tolerant view of the facts.”
“So he was another casualty to progress?”
“He couldn’t be budged until his sixty-fifth birthday. The Niagara Regional Police has been making great strides since he retired. We’re almost caught up to Toronto.”
“What took him in the end? What sort of accident?”
“Didn’t you see it in the paper? If you didn’t read it and you didn’t know him personally, Benny, what brings you here this frosty afternoon? You working?”
“Maybe I’m interested in becoming a part of local history, Pete. Look at all of those tombstone. How many of them have Staziak or Cooperman written on them?” Behind Pete I could see Victoria Armstrong helping Wise into a limo. Mickey was standing on the driver’s side looking at me.
“That’s ’cause we come from good hardy stock, Benny. We don’t fade away. We’ve got staying power. Hey! Are you trying to put me off? I asked if you were working, damn it!”
“I am. And it could get me into a lot of trouble if I was seen talking to the fuzz, Pete. Will you be at home tonight? I’ll call you.”
“Are you pulling my leg or is this for real? Yeah, I’ll be at home minding my tropical fish.”
“I’ll be talking to you.” Without looking in his direction, I moved off in the direction I’d seen the others go. The old policeman with his keeper was feeling all of his pockets as though he had lost his car keys or glasses, while the man in the windbreaker waited to help him into the front seat. My car was somewhere along the lane too, parked on the margin of brownish grass by the back wall. Looking up, I could see the dark branches of the maple and beech trees were putting on signs of the season to come. I put that down to the southerly slope of the cemetery away from the lake. Twigs were fattening and buds were looking shiny. Through the windshield, as I drove along the curved cemetery lanes to the street, I could see that it was starting to snow.