supply of their products. They sold everything from horse liniment to women’s shampoo. They have been one of the biggest manufacturers here for over a hundred years.”
“So, they also hire the most people in the area,” Ian said. “A bit of political pull?”
“Oh, hell, Caleb didn’t need political pull,” Stanley said. “He was the head of the school board. All he had to do was pass a resolution. His son, Ephraim, is the head of the board now and the president of the company.”
“I think it’s time we meet Coach Thorne, Mary,” Ian said.
Mary smiled. “I think that’s a really good idea,” she agreed.
“Hold your horses,” Stanley said, “ Ain’t the reason you was taking this case is because it weren’t supposed to be about murder? Seems to me you’re looking for trouble again.”
Mary shook her head. “Stanley, this happened over forty years ago. Do you really think someone is going to be worried about us looking into it?”
“Well, you just never know what some people are thinking,” Stanley said, his eyebrows lifting nearly to the top of his forehead. “And I know of one police chief who wouldn’t be too happy if he found out you was messing with a possible murder.”
Mary sighed. “Well, we don’t even know it’s a murder yet,” she argued. “Really, we need to talk to Coach Thorne before we all jump to the worst possible conclusion.”
“So, how do we get into the high school and talk with him?” Ian asked.
Rosie lifted her hand and waved it. “Oh, I know,” she said. “Tonight the Speech Team has practice and they leave the door open for the kids to get in. All you have to do is go in the office door and go up to the second floor. The Chemistry labs are around the corner and down the hall from where the team meets.”
“What do you think, Stanley?” Mary asked.
“Well, I reckon it don’t hurt none to talk to the man, I mean the ghost,” he said. “Then we can decide. But, we don’t, none of us, need to mention what we’re doing to anyone else.”
“Why Stanley, of course I do,” she said. “My lips are sealed.”
Mary grinned. “Thank you, Rosie,” she said. “Now, how do you feel about babysitting for a little while this evening?”
Clapping her hands together, Rosie beamed. “That will be just the thing,” she said. “I’ll bring over the ingredients and we can make cinnamon rolls together.”
Mary turned to Ian. “So, professor, you want to go ghost hunting with me tonight?”
He grinned back at her. “Aye, sounds like a rare good time.”
Chapter Eighteen
Bradley came back into the kitchen, placing his phone in his pocket. “I just got off the phone with the coroner’s office,” he said to the man sitting at the table next to Jeannine’s parents. “They would like at least a week time to make sure they get good results, they can release Jeannine’s body to you next Friday morning.”
Allen Henderson, the local funeral director, stood and nodded solemnly. “Thank you, I’ll have a hearse there first thing in the morning to transport her back to Sycamore. Is there anything else you need?”
“No, thank you,” Bradley said. “You’ve been very helpful.”
“I’d like to think about the wording of her obituary a little longer,” Joyce said. “Can I send it to you later this afternoon?”
“Of course,” Allen said. “And we’ll have it run in the paper on Thursday with the announcement of the memorial service.”
“Do we need to contact the cemetery?” Bill asked.
“I’ll do that,” Allen said. “You’ve already paid for the plot, so we just need to work out the details of having things ready for Saturday.”
He gathered his paperwork and then shook hands with each of them. “I’m so sorry it turned out like this,” he said. “We all hoped…”
Joyce wiped a stray tear from her cheek. “Yes, we did,” she said. “But at least we know what happened and we can finally let her rest.”
Allen nodded.
“So, they also hire the most people in the area,” Ian said. “A bit of political pull?”
“Oh, hell, Caleb didn’t need political pull,” Stanley said. “He was the head of the school board. All he had to do was pass a resolution. His son, Ephraim, is the head of the board now and the president of the company.”
“I think it’s time we meet Coach Thorne, Mary,” Ian said.
Mary smiled. “I think that’s a really good idea,” she agreed.
“Hold your horses,” Stanley said, “ Ain’t the reason you was taking this case is because it weren’t supposed to be about murder? Seems to me you’re looking for trouble again.”
Mary shook her head. “Stanley, this happened over forty years ago. Do you really think someone is going to be worried about us looking into it?”
“Well, you just never know what some people are thinking,” Stanley said, his eyebrows lifting nearly to the top of his forehead. “And I know of one police chief who wouldn’t be too happy if he found out you was messing with a possible murder.”
Mary sighed. “Well, we don’t even know it’s a murder yet,” she argued. “Really, we need to talk to Coach Thorne before we all jump to the worst possible conclusion.”
“So, how do we get into the high school and talk with him?” Ian asked.
Rosie lifted her hand and waved it. “Oh, I know,” she said. “Tonight the Speech Team has practice and they leave the door open for the kids to get in. All you have to do is go in the office door and go up to the second floor. The Chemistry labs are around the corner and down the hall from where the team meets.”
“What do you think, Stanley?” Mary asked.
“Well, I reckon it don’t hurt none to talk to the man, I mean the ghost,” he said. “Then we can decide. But, we don’t, none of us, need to mention what we’re doing to anyone else.”
“Why Stanley, of course I do,” she said. “My lips are sealed.”
Mary grinned. “Thank you, Rosie,” she said. “Now, how do you feel about babysitting for a little while this evening?”
Clapping her hands together, Rosie beamed. “That will be just the thing,” she said. “I’ll bring over the ingredients and we can make cinnamon rolls together.”
Mary turned to Ian. “So, professor, you want to go ghost hunting with me tonight?”
He grinned back at her. “Aye, sounds like a rare good time.”
Chapter Eighteen
Bradley came back into the kitchen, placing his phone in his pocket. “I just got off the phone with the coroner’s office,” he said to the man sitting at the table next to Jeannine’s parents. “They would like at least a week time to make sure they get good results, they can release Jeannine’s body to you next Friday morning.”
Allen Henderson, the local funeral director, stood and nodded solemnly. “Thank you, I’ll have a hearse there first thing in the morning to transport her back to Sycamore. Is there anything else you need?”
“No, thank you,” Bradley said. “You’ve been very helpful.”
“I’d like to think about the wording of her obituary a little longer,” Joyce said. “Can I send it to you later this afternoon?”
“Of course,” Allen said. “And we’ll have it run in the paper on Thursday with the announcement of the memorial service.”
“Do we need to contact the cemetery?” Bill asked.
“I’ll do that,” Allen said. “You’ve already paid for the plot, so we just need to work out the details of having things ready for Saturday.”
He gathered his paperwork and then shook hands with each of them. “I’m so sorry it turned out like this,” he said. “We all hoped…”
Joyce wiped a stray tear from her cheek. “Yes, we did,” she said. “But at least we know what happened and we can finally let her rest.”
Allen nodded.