Varnished without a Trace Read online

  My mother crowed and ran into the kitchen after him.

  Mission accomplished. Now, to eat some good food and laugh until my sides hurt. I was going to have to put away my curiosity about whether or not Hoagie had been found and who had killed Ronda. I was willing to do that with all this food in front of me and my mother on a tangent toward another child.

  Christmas with the Gravers was off to a great start.

  Chapter Four

  The elaborate table my mom had set nearly groaned with food. Her pretty, snowflake-pattern china set was out in full force, along with the crystal goblets etched with a Christmas scene. The napkins were linen with poinsettias on them, and the entire table was covered with a huge Christmas tree tablecloth. Just one tree, covering the whole thing.

  My mom was nothing if not thorough.

  The potatoes were passed, the corn soufflé dished out generously, the turkey doused in creamy gravy and all was right in the world. I made sure to take good-sized portions because if I didn’t, my mother would give me the eye and then heap more on my plate anyway.

  Conversation turned to local events after my mother grilled Dylan about his lack of a suitable girlfriend and slam-dunked him with what a nice girl that Macy Yoder was, and how she came from a good family. Grams nodded in approval and put in her own two cents.

  He gave me more than one stink eye, but was all too happy to join in when it was time for Jeremy to go under the bus. My best friend, Gina, was the one giving the stink eye when Jeremy placed his napkin carefully on his plate and stated he would propose when he was good and ready.

  My dear uncle Sherman was quick to take up the dramatic pause after that announcement and launched into his latest issue as the fire chief.

  “I think we have a firebug in town. I need to find him before he hurts anyone. It’s a real, gosh darn mystery.” He cocked an eyebrow at me as he speared a big piece of turkey and shoved it in his mouth.

  My mother gasped and put her hand to her throat. “A firebug? What exactly does that mean? It sounds bad.”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Karen. You can’t be that dull-witted.” Grams took a swig of her tea and made a face of disapproval. “I need water.”

  Everyone ignored her as I took up the conversation.

  “Someone who is setting fires around town, Mom,” I jumped in before my grandmother could cut her daughter again. Pushing around some cranberry sauce on my plate, I avoided eye contact. The jellied fruit was not my favorite, but I had taken it anyway when my grandmother cleared her throat as I went to pass it to Max without having put any on my plate.

  “Oh, that’s even worse! I thought it was some kind of insect.”

  I loved her, I really did, but what world did she live in? Maybe that hair dye she always used had started messing with her brain synapses.

  Grams snorted, very unladylike, as my dad stiffened in his chair.

  “Tallie has it right.” Sherman saved the day again by stepping right in. “We’ve had a bunch of fires recently, some little and some big. So far no one’s been hurt, but I’m afraid those days are numbered, and I can’t seem to figure out who’s doing this. It’s driving me insane.”

  “That’s unfortunate,” my dad said. He speared more broccoli and looked at my plate, where I’d heaped the stuff like I was growing my own forest of broccoli trees. I stabbed one and shoved it in my mouth.

  Sitting back, Sherman patted his big stomach. “It’s been about three weeks and there’s been six fires. They started out smaller and were normal little house calls to make sure everything was okay, but they’ve escalated lately. I’m afraid Bertie Myers is not going to be able to stay on top of the workload if this keeps up. Not to mention that the officials in town are looking to me to contain this thing.”

  “Bertie does the fire cleanup?” I asked, vaguely remembering a mention of him when my mother said I might want to look into that if I was bent on cleaning instead of working at the funeral home, as my father had hoped for.

  “Yeah, he takes away all the things that aren’t destroyed and tries to clean them up so people can keep what few possessions are left. It’s a dirty job, but he’s a good guy and good at doing it.”

  “And you don’t have any leads on how the fires are starting?” I put my elbows on the table and my chin in my hands to give him my full attention. My mother cleared her throat, and I sat back with my posture straight. Between her and my grandmother, I was pretty sure I wouldn’t do a single thing right tonight. Such was life.

  “A few, because we think it’s got a particular accelerant, but other than that, we’re out of information.” He shrugged. “Whoever it is has to be clever because no one has seen anything suspicious. Still waiting for some lab results on what they’re starting it with, but it looks like each fire has three points of ignition. It’s distinct and I want it to stop.”

  “No doubt, Sherman.” My dad put down his fork. “This is troubling, and I’ve heard around town that they want it solved and fast. It will happen. You’ve always been able to discern when things aren’t right.”

  “Yeah, well, my discerner is apparently turned off at the moment.” He frowned, and I frowned with him. If I could count on one thing in life, it was Uncle Sherman and his jovial disposition. Not being able to protect the town was probably eating at him.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I hope you can get some answers.” I reached for the pie in the middle of the table, and my mom was the one frowning this time. Her signal that it wasn’t yet time. I sighed.

  “Yeah, me too.” His eyed narrowed at me, and he leaned his elbows on the table. Not a single noise from my mother or grandmother, which was not fair at all. “And Burton’s actually the one who’s responsible for all this investigating thing, but it’s my territory, and I’m not going to let him screw this up.”

  “Still have that age-old feud going on? Wasn’t that forever ago?” Grams asked.

  I flinched, knowing that it had been over a woman who had married Sherman but had left years ago to live on an island, away from both men.

  “You need to let that go, old man,” my father chimed in before I could say anything more.

  “I’m no older than you, Buddy boy.”

  I closed my eyes for just a second. My father hated being called that, but he laughed this time, which was fortunate. His snowman tie jingled with the noise, probably something my mom had made him wear because he was all about the solid colors on a normal day.

  “I’ll have you know you’re ten months older than me. We’ll leave it at that.”

  “You got me there.” Sherman sighed. “I feel old these days. What with all the fires and then how Aunt Mary died, I feel like life is moving right along and leaving me behind.”

  Aunt Mary had been ninety-two and led an amazing life, still dancing for the local dance studio and competing right up until her last days. Which reminded me that I would need to make sure I put time into my schedule to be there for her funeral. I wasn’t a big fan of working at the funeral home owned by my parents, but when it came to family, you put aside whatever resistance you had and made it a priority to be there for those you loved.

  And even those you only tolerated.

  “If you don’t mind making time day after tomorrow, Tallie, it would be much appreciated.” Mom put her hand on top of mine, and I gave her a squeeze.

  “Of course.”

  “Thank you. You’re a good girl. You’d be better if you got married, though. I’m just saying.”

  “She’s not wrong. I don’t approve of this living together without matrimony, Tallie,” Grams said.

  Sherman jumped in again before the disastrous duo could get rolling.

  “I’m sure Burton’s not really going to want your help with Ronda’s murder, Tallie, no matter what I heard him say last night. Did he tell you that they still haven’t found Hoagie?”

  He looked at me skeptically, and I bit my lip.

  “Ah, well, he’s stupid not to acknowledge all the things you�
�ve done for him over the last year or so. These fires might not be a dead person, but they’re still very important. Look at all the times you’ve helped him and I guarantee that cold case file of his would be a whole lot bigger without your help.”

  Why did I feel like I was being buttered up like one of my mom’s amazing, yeasty rolls?

  “Thanks. I don’t normally want to solve them for him, and I’m not saying he’s incompetent. I just don’t get why you wouldn’t take any help you can get when you’re trying to figure out what happened.” I speared a slice of cranberry sauce and cut it in half, then in half again. Maybe if I made it really small, my mom wouldn’t notice that I hadn’t eaten it.

  “Completely understood.” Sherman smiled at me, and the butter feeling intensified. “He couldn’t have solved any of those without you and your keen eye for detail, your knack for picking up things that people leave around and your ear for gossip and eavesdropping.”

  Buttered.

  “I’ve often been impressed with your attention to detail and your tenaciousness.”

  Now he was bringing out the big words and laying on the flattery like cream cheese on a freshly toasted bagel.

  Even my dad heard it. “What are you getting at, Sherman? Tallie is all those things, but what’s your angle here?”

  Sherman spread his hands wide, as if he had nothing to hide and nowhere to hide it. “I was just letting her know how much more I think she does than Burton will ever admit.”

  “I appreciate that, Uncle Sherman, and thanks for the compliments, but even I can see you’re aiming at something.” I touched my nose with the side of my finger. “That amateur sleuth sniffer, you know.”

  “Well.” Then he paused and looked around the table at everyone who was staring intently at him. “I was just thinking that if you wanted to put some of that sleuthing into action to sniff out any information around town about these arsons, I certainly wouldn’t turn you away like Burton does. Every. Single. Time.” He accentuated those pauses between the last three words by stabbing his finger into the Christmas tree tablecloth. The last stab was so forceful it made his snowflake plate jump on the table and his glass of sweet tea rattle.

  I contemplated the idea as my grandmother squinted her eyes at me. I was a good sleuth, even if I didn’t always mean to be a good one. I’d even flirted with the idea of possibly going professional at one time, back when I was still trying to figure out what I wanted to be when I grew up. I knew now because of how much I truly enjoyed my new cleaning crew and the great things we were doing.

  So what did Sherman expect me to do? I wouldn’t even know where to start with this one.

  I opened my mouth to say so when my father cut me off.

  “Do you really think you don’t have enough to do, young lady?” Dad speared me with a glare. Oh no, we were going to get into the whole why-won’tI-work-for-them-if-I-was-bored thing.

  I tried to head him off, but he had a full steam going on and there was no stopping him.

  “We need help at the funeral home. You saw what happened a few months ago with overscheduling and understaffing. Your mother and I are worn out and we are seriously considering hiring more outside full-time staff because you won’t step up and take your rightful place in the family business.”

  Jeremy shoved back in his chair and folded his arms tight across his chest. Oh, we were about to get fighty up in here. And Grams just sat there without saying a word. Maybe she didn’t know all the things that had gone on. Or maybe I should make her some popcorn so she could enjoy the show she usually missed by living in Florida.

  “I told you, I don’t think that’s necessary. I am willing to take on more, Dad. Dylan and Tallie are free to make their own choices,” Jeremy said.

  Good for him. I started to smile at him, and then he continued.

  “No matter how it affects other people, if they want to selfishly decide to turn their backs on those closest to them who need them, who are we to try to force them to do the right thing?”

  I burst from my chair, and so did Dylan. It erupted into a full-out yelling match. I wondered how Max felt about close family now . . .

  Chapter Five

  “I can help.” Max calmly wiped the side of his mouth with his napkin and then folded it nicely before placing it next to his plate. The forest-green on the linen sat in stark contrast to the white snowflake china my mom liked to use for any dinners having to do with winter.

  I sat stunned into silence, just like everyone else at the table. He’d effectively cut off the shouting match between us siblings and our father with those three simple words.

  I sputtered and then coughed before finding my voice. “But you have an accounting degree and you’re my Taxinator. You worked for the government finding nasty people who tried to cheat on what they owed. You did big things. You were going to work on gathering a client list while enjoying our house.”

  He placed his hand over mine. “And I also have time to help out your family. Now that the renovation is almost done, I will have more time. Besides, depending on the salary I can talk your father into, perhaps we can pay to have an actual contractor come in. I’m less of a handyman than I thought, and handling people and making plans is what I’ve done for years. This focus is a little different, but still in the service business. I’d be happy to help your parents and my best friend so that you and your other brother can continue to pursue your dreams without inconveniencing anyone.”

  I followed the direction of his gaze and found him looking directly at Jeremy. While my brother had every right to wish that Dylan and I would fall right into line with his plans, he couldn’t expect it, and Max was subtly letting him know that he was out of line without calling him out.

  “Max, are you sure?” My dad, Bud Graver, looked simultaneously thankful and yet skeptical. “It’s not an easy business. Sometimes the sadness can overwhelm you when dealing with grief-stricken people.”

  “I’m sure Tallie would be willing to give me some pointers, and I’m willing to learn. When I told her I was looking for a change, I didn’t necessarily just mean in scenery. Perhaps this is something I’ll excel at. I’m willing to give it a try, especially if it would help you, Bud and Jeremy, and give Dylan and Tallie a pass when it comes to failing to step up in your eyes.”

  A subtle burn again, but both my father and my brother flinched, so it had struck its mark. I loved cleaning more than I had originally thought I would. When I left Waldo and had no money, it had been the only thing I could come up with to do to make money. And then I realized I liked it. I didn’t want to give it up now, especially because I had a whole crew depending on me. I enjoyed serving that way.

  And I knew Dylan and my father had been looking at the cemetery up the street, which had just come up for sale, so that he could continue to play outdoors as he loved to.

  But did I want to be married to a funeral director? Wasn’t it enough that I had been sired by one and was the sister to another? I really wished Max had talked with me before he made his offer.

  There was still time for us to talk it out more before it was finalized, I hoped. Scratch that: I’d make sure of it. But no matter what, I would support him just as much as he supported me. It was the way things worked, no matter how much I shied away from the idea of it. I’d figure out how to be happy if he really wanted to do this, as opposed to doing it to save me.

  I filed the thought away for later. That was going to have to be part of the conversation. Maybe the first part.

  For the moment, though, I sat next to Sherman with my hands folded in my lap, scenario after scenario running through my head. Until my uncle leaned over and whispered, “Are you sure I can’t interest you in helping out an old man? All I need you to do is some fire cleanup. It’s just a little different from what you already do, but you’d be able to see if anything has been left behind and help out Bertie, because he really is overwhelmed. Help two old men out, Tallie. I really think I’m going to need your superior skills o
n this one, and now you’re free to do what you want.”

  Buttered like I liked my toast when I was in the mood to dip it into a huge cup of Gina’s awesome hot chocolate. And yet my curiosity was seriously piqued.

  “Can we meet for coffee to discuss?” I whispered back. “I feel like we reached a good space here and I don’t want to set things off again by worrying my parents that I’m getting involved in something I can’t handle.”

  “Bean There, Done That at eight tomorrow?”

  “You got it. I’ll let Gina know we’re coming in,” I whispered back.

  Grams clapped her hands to end any other discussion.

  “Well, now that that’s settled, I believe it’s almost time for pie. After the girls do the dishes,” Grams said, not moving an inch from her chair.

  Gina and I dutifully rose from our chairs. When my mother scooted back, Grams clamped a hand on her wrist. “You can stay.”

  “Why don’t you and Dad talk to Max?” I said, to take the sting out of her mother once again taking over.

  “Thanks, Tallie.”

  Gina and I trooped out to the kitchen with a sigh. I had debated being there for the conversation, but thought it better to let Max initially handle it on his own. And I didn’t want to leave Gina to do the dishes by herself. On my way out, I did caution Max against making any decisions or finalizing anything before he and I had a chance to sort out the details. He kissed me on the nose and told me he’d never dream of doing something without discussing it with me.

  I wasn’t sure at first whether he was serious or not because he’d effectively just offered himself up on the altar of family help without letting me know he’d even thought of it, but I decided to trust him for the moment and get with Gina about coffee.

  “So, what do you think about Sherman’s offer?” I asked as she handed me a rinsed glass for the dishwasher.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to talk about Max’s offer first, or why your brother seems to think I’ll wait forever for his offer of marriage?”