Grave Intent by Deborah LeBlanc Page A

plates half-full of food, or no
used women’s plugs. It’s wall to wall elbows and butts in here, and
not a damn one of ‘em knows how to use a trashcan.”
    “Women’s plugs?” Michael asked.
    Chad leaned into him and whispered, “Tampons.
They found one in the women’s bathroom sink. Used, just like she
said.”
    “Jesus,” Michael groaned.
    “Jesus ain’t gonna pick ‘em up either,” Agnes
said with a snap of her head.
    Sally matched Agnes’ stance. “Michael, you
have to get us more help. There’re too many—”
    “Too many people,” Chad finished for her.
    “And they’s all crazy,” Agnes added. “Every
last one of ‘em out there. You—”
    “Wait a minute.” Michael held up both hands,
wanting time to think. The last thing he needed was a mutiny.
“Sally, have Richard man the phones while—”
    “He left,” Chad said.
    “What?”
    “Mr. Mason left about a half hour ago.” Chad
shrugged. “Said he wasn’t being paid enough to deal with this
mess.”
    “Oh, Lord,” Sally muttered.
    “Smart man,” Agnes said with a nod.
    “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” Michael
asked. “Maybe I could have—”
    “Tell you?” Chad shook his head. “I couldn’t
even find you. I’ve been doing everything to—”
    “Okay, okay, so he’s gone,” Michael said,
rubbing his left temple. “Let’s just keep this simple. Chad, you
keep an eye out in the viewing room. Make sure they don’t trample
one another in there. Sally, you answer the phones and give people
directions to the bathrooms and lounge. And, Agnes, would you
please stay and at least keep a path cleared between the lounge and
reception area?”
    Agnes eyed him suspiciously. “That’s all I
gotta do?”
    “That’s all. We’ll worry about the rest when
this is over.”
    She puckered her lips as though considering
the task ahead, then said, “Yeah, I guess I can do that. But what
you gonna do?”
    “Right now? Find aspirin.”
    Michael headed for his office, making his way
past a wall of chattering women in ankle-length, multi-colored
dresses. All of them were bedecked in heavy gold jewelry and
acknowledged him with a cautious eye when he excused himself and
sidled by.
    By the time Michael finally entered his
office, he’d squeezed past so many people it felt like his suit was
on backwards. He closed the office door, brushed the twists out of
his jacket sleeves and pant legs, then went to his desk.
    He sat back in his chair and closed his eyes
for a second. Too much, he thought. I should have Dad
locked up for ever agreeing to—
    Michael’s eyes flew open. He’d been too busy
to realize he hadn’t seen Wilson around all morning. As frantic as
his father had been last night, logic said he should have been
sitting on the funeral home steps by five this morning, waiting for
an answer about the money.
    “ They’ll kill me, Michael. I swear to God
they’ll kill me.”
    Sudden worry fueled Michael’s headache to
near migraine intensity. He unlocked his desk, pulled open the
bottom drawer, and grabbed a bottle of aspirin. Shaking out three,
he tossed them into his mouth and chewed the bitter tablets. He
thought about the creep at the gas pumps, the one Janet had told
him about yesterday. Was he one of Wilson’s investors? Had they
found his father? Could Wilson really be in danger?
    Michael considered going out to look for him,
but quickly dropped the notion. He couldn’t leave with a funeral
home full of people and too few employees.Maybe he should call the
police and ask them to start a search.
    Just then, Michael’s office door opened, and
Wilson strutted in like a crippled rooster.
    “Full house, I see,” Wilson said.
    Relief and anger swirled through Michael
until his hands shook. “Where the hell have you been?”
    Wilson’s eyebrows peaked into twin steeples.
“Why? You missed me?”
    “I asked you a question.”
    “And I asked you one.”
    Michael gritted his teeth. He wasn’t up for
an argument. He