Helpless, I looked to Sebastian to take over the conversation. He looked just as lost.
“So ... the most inexpensive box we can find and cremation?” All the excitement he’d been feeling earlier in the day deflated, leaving his shoulders hunched. “Do you want a tombstone or shall we just stick a little sign in the ground and be done with it?”
“Oh, I want a tombstone.” Vera flashed her teeth. “Do you think I can put ‘beloved philanderer’ on it without turning the town against me?”
“Um ... .” Sebastian looked uncertain.
“Are you sure he cheated on you?” I asked, knowing it was probably the worst way to turn the conversation. I couldn’t help myself. “I mean ... just because he liked looking at other women doesn’t mean he acted on his impulses.”
“Oh, honey, you’re sweet.” Vera shot me a pitying look. “Do you know how many women have contacted me over the years to tell me my husband was cheating on me?”
“That doesn’t necessarily mean it was true.”
“Two of them claimed to be pregnant with Roy’s babies.”
“There are ways to prove that.”
“He paid them off.”
I was done trying to find a single good thing about Roy. It was a wasted effort from the start. “I’m really sorry.” I meant it. “He sounds like an absolutely horrible man.”
“He was. I still have a responsibility, and I mean to see it through.”
“Then we’ll help you.” Sebastian grabbed his notepad and headed toward the couch. “You know, there’s this really garish tombstone they’ve been trying to get rid of. Someone somewhere thought it was a good idea to make one in a puke green color. You can get them for a song now that they’re discontinuing the line.”
Vera brightened considerably. “That sounds great. He would hate that.”
“I think I know a few more things he would hate. There’s a spot in the cemetery where the squirrels hang out and crap all through the summer. It smells terrible. Those spots are inexpensive.”
“Sign me up.”
This wasn’t how I planned to gather information, but it was better than nothing.
11
Eleven
Two hours with Vera was my limit. The joy she took in picking out the things she knew Roy would hate made me sad. Sebastian got into the spirit of the endeavor, but even he looked wiped out when she finally left.
“Did you at least make a profit?” I asked as I stretched out on the settee. It was surprisingly comfortable for such a small piece of furniture.
He nodded and flopped in the chair next to me. “I made a fairly decent profit. The markup on this stuff is astronomical.”
“I bet. It’s one of the few businesses that can get away with almost anything and nobody will call them on it.”
“You make me sound like a con artist.”
“Not you personally,” I reassured him. “It’s just the thought of profiting off death. It seems somehow wrong.”
“Some people could say that about food,” he pointed out. “Food is necessary for life, but it’s not a luxury. Your family makes a living off the backs of those who are starving.”
“No, my family makes a living off the backs of those who are too lazy to cook for themselves,” I countered. “Nobody is forcing them into the restaurant.”
“Nobody is forcing them into the funeral home either.”
I rolled so I could meet his gaze. “I wasn’t getting a dig in at you. I was just commenting on the circle of life.”
“Oh?” He looked amused. “Are you feeling philosophical this afternoon?”
It was a fair question. “I’m feeling ... something.” I pushed myself to a sitting position, mostly because I was afraid the hangover would finally catch up with me if I remained prone, and the last thing I wanted to do was catch a catnap in a funeral home. “What do you know about Roy?”
“I think we just heard an earful.”
“Yes, but that was from Vera’s perspective. She did give me a few things to think about. She focused on his sexual appetite, which was apparently disgusting. Other people hated him for any number of reasons. Not everything had to do with his wandering eye.”
“Ah.” Sebastian nodded in understanding. “You want to know what sort of dirt I’ve heard about Roy.”
“Pretty much. I’d heard stories about him before I left. I never paid much attention to them. The only thing I remember is that it was a running joke not to get near his hands. I guess, in hindsight, that wasn’t much of a joke.”
“He had a horrible reputation when it came to women ... and apparently teenagers. I never really heard about the teenagers. I might’ve said something if I’d had.”
“You and me both. What are some of the other stories you’ve heard?”
“Well, I heard he borrowed Frank Farmington’s snowblower but never returned it.”
“I doubt that’s worth killing over.”
“I’d agree, but they had a big blowup over it.”
“Really?” I smiled to encourage him. “What sort of blowup? Were punches thrown?”
Sebastian chuckled, obviously tickled by my enthusiasm. “The thing with Roy is that he wasn’t the physical sort. He was a blowhard and would say the dumbest crap imaginable, but nobody ever worried he’d back it up.”
“Give me a for instance.”
“For instance, his fight with Frank. Apparently they’d been going at each other for some time, Roy denying he’d ever borrowed Frank’s snowblower and Frank calling him a big, fat liar.”
“Did something happen to the snowblower in question?”
“I believe Roy broke it, because that plays into the story. Anyway, there was a festival downtown — it was an offshoot of the Hemlock Cove summer festival last year — and Frank approached Roy during the carnival. Actually, if I remember correctly, Frank stalked Roy through the festival because Roy kept hopping on rides to avoid him.”
“Did Roy really think that hopping on a five-minute rollercoaster ride was going to dissuade Frank?”
Sebastian held out his hands and shrugged. “I’ve never been able to fathom the things Roy did. Delaying the inevitable only irritated Frank. He was foaming-at-the-mouth mad when he finally caught up to him.”
I tried to picture the scene in my head, smiling. “So, what happened? Don’t leave me in suspense.”
“Patience, grasshopper. I’m getting to it.” He flicked his fingers at me and grinned. “So, picture it, Roy thinks he’s shaken Frank and is back to being a blowhard as he exits those flying swings that everybody pretty much hates.”
I frowned. “I didn’t know those were still a thing.”
“Only at really depressing festivals, which is what we have here, because Hemlock Cove has a lock on all the good carnival companies. Anyway, Roy decides to hang out between the swings and the flea market, calling out to anybody he sees and making a general nuisance of himself. That’s when Frank finally cuts him off from any avenue of escape and approaches him.”