Cremation, I understand, Lucas said.
Yes, it was. Quite a bit cheaper, you know. I applaud that, by the way. The family didnt have a great deal of money, and with the breadwinner gone, they had to watch their nickels and dimes. The young woman marched right in the door, said we could forget about a big funeral, they didnt have the money, and she wanted the body cremated. Period. No argument allowed.
Did she pick up the ashes?
Yup. In a cardboard box. She said they didnt need anurn, they were planning to scatter them over the family farm.
Tough kid, Lucas said.
That she was, said the senior undertaker. Never saw a tear from her, except once when the sheriff happened to come by while they were making the arrangements, and then she couldnt stop bawling. That was the only time. He took another iron out of his bag. What do you know about the two-iron?
If only God can hit a one-iron, then itd probably take a prophet to hit the two, Sherrill said.
The senior undertaker looked at her with interest. Youre a golfer.
A little, she said. My husband was a two-handicap.
Was?
He died.
Ah. Thatwillplay hob with your handicap, he said cheerfully. Then, Do you think that young lady Audrey? do you think she might have killed her father?
Lucas looked at Sherrill and then back at the senior undertaker. Why would you ask?
Well, because youre here, obviously. And because there was something very cold and unpleasant about that young girl. It crossed my mind when we were setting up the funeral arrangements that she cared less for her father than she might for a clod of dirt. When she came to pick up the ashesand she drove herself, by the way, and she was too young to have a license, Im sureI watched her from the window when she went back to the car. She opened the car door and tossed the box in the backseat like you might toss an old rag. There was something in the way she did it. I thought at that very moment that the ashes might never make it to the family farm. That they might not make it further than the nearest ditch.
But she was bawling about it, you said.
Oh, and very conveniently, with the sheriff. The senior undertaker shook his head. You see a lot of very strange things in this business, but that has stuck in mymind as one of the strangest. No. Not strange. Frightening. I locked the doors for the next few weeks. I would dream that the little girl was coming for me.
HE DIED OF A HEART ATTACK, DR. STEPHEN LANDIS said. Landis was a roughneck fifty-five, with sparkling gold-rimmed glasses and heavy boots under his jeans. A stuffed mallard, just taking wing, hung from the wall of the reception room, while a nine-pound walleye was mounted over his desk in his private office. Hed been having some problemscardiac insufficiencyand he wouldnt stop drinking or smoking. I told him if he didnt stop, he was gonna have a heart attack. And one day he keeled over. Drink and cigarette in hand.
He was smoking when he went? Sherrill said.
Still had the cigarette between his fingers, Landis said.
But you didnt do an autopsy? Lucas asked.
Landis shrugged. There didnt seem to be a reason to do one. Hed been sick, it seemed apparent that it was the onset of a heart problem. And then he had a heart attack.
Arent you required to do an autopsy when the person didnt die under a doctors immediate care? Sherrill asked.
Not then. Back then, not everything was regulated by the legislature yet. You could use your judgment on occasion.
Did you ever treat Mrs. Lamb? Lucas asked, injecting a slight chill into his voice.
Landiss eyes drifted away from Lucass. I may have seen her a time or two, but the Lambs moved away, you know…
Did you ever treat her for injuries that might have been inflicted by her husband?
No, I didnt. Wellyou probably heard this from somebody else, or you wouldnt be asking the question. There were rumors that George used to knock her around. And I had her in one time, and she had some bruises thatlooked like they might have come from a beating. She said she fell down the stairs. I doubted that, but the bruises were old and
… I let it go. Maybe I shouldnt have, but she wasnt interested in talking about it.
They sat in silence for a moment; then Lucas said, No sign of anything but the symptoms of a heart attack.
Not that I could see.
And you examined the body carefully.
I examined it. Briefly.
No tissue cultures.
No.
You never came to suspect that anything unusual might have led to George Lambs sudden death.
No. He had heart trouble. If anything, I wasexpectinga heart attack.
Outside, Sherrill said, I see what you meananother case of remarkable memory. Lamb had a cigarette between his fingers when he died.
Theres something here, Lucas said, turning to look back at the front of the clinic. I have trouble thinking what it might be.
Maybe shes some kind of town philanthropist and gives them money or something, so they protect her,
Sherrill suggested.
Have you seen her? She doesnt look like shed give a nickel to a starving man. And if it has been that, somebody would have mentioned it.
So what do you want to do?
Lets go check into this motel. Get some dinner.
LUCAS ALWAYS EXPECTED A CERTAIN AMOUNT OF AWKWARDNESS when he and a new woman friend got around a bed, and the room at the Sugar Beet Inn was basically a queen-sized bed, a television set, and bathroom; along with the built-in scent of disinfectant. Sherrill wasnt quite as inhibited: she pulled off her jacket, tossed it on the chair, jumped on the bed, giving it a bounce, then hopped off to check the TV. I wonder if they have dirty movies?
Give me a break, Lucas said. Come on, lets find a restaurant.
Too early. Its barely five oclock. I wanna take a shower and get the road off me, she said. You wanna take a shower?
If we take a shower, well probably wind up on the bed, dealing with sexual issues, he said, injecting a tone of disapproval into his voice. Were here on business.
Quit bustin my balls, Davenport, she said. She pulled her sweatshirt over her head. But if you want to sit out here and wait.. .
I suppose wed save water if we both got in there.
And water is precious out here on the prairie.
Well, I mean, if its for the environment…
THE DESK CLERK AT THE SUGAR BEET TOLD THEM TWO restaurants would be open: Chucks Wagon, a diner, and the Oxford Supper Club, which had a liquor license. They drove down to the supper club and were met at the entrance by a cheerful, overweight woman with hair the same tone of orange as the county clerks, and a frilly apron. She took them to a red-vinyl booth and left them with glasses of water and menus.
That hair color must be a fashion out here. She looks like a pumpkin, Sherrill whispered.
Mmm. Open-face roast beef sandwich with brown gravy, choice of potato, string beans, cheese balls as an appetizer, and pumpkin or mince pie with whipped cream, choice of drink, seven ninety-five, Lucas said.
You ever hear of cholesterol?
Off my case. Im starving.
Lucas ordered a martini, to be followed by the roast beef sandwich; Sherrill got the Traditional Meatloaf with a Miller Lite up front. They ate in easy companionship, talking about the day, talking about cases theyd worked together and what happened to who, afterwards. Touched lightly on Weathers case. Lucas got a Leinenkugels and Sherrill got a second Miller Lite, to go with the pie. They were justfinishing the pie when Lucas felt the khaki pants legs stepping up to the table. He looked up at two sheriffs deputies, two men in their late twenties or thirties, one hard, lanky, the other thicker, like a high school tackle, with the beginning of a gut.