Another Short Story from Elaine Carlson

"Harry is dead," Margaret said. "What should we do?"

"One of us can call the police," I say. "Maybe you should get away from here. The cops could consider you to be a person of interest."

"Oh Jane," she said. "You always like to joke. But are you going to call this in?"

"Yep. I will do that."

Why did something like this have to happen now? And why did she think this morning would be the perfect time to visit Mr Muhall? If I had been the one to find him dead I would have just closed the door. Tonight would be soon enough to report his death. But now I know things shouldn't be put off.

Classes start Tuesday and I still don't have the room set up. And before Friday I need to run about a zillion errands.

I call my sister. She handles drama well and always like to be the person who is in charge.

"My big sister!" I was relieved when she answered. "What's going on?"

"I am calling you because Harry just died."

"I am sorry to hear that," she said. "But then it's not surprising. Wasn't he born during the American Revolution?"

"Well later than that but still he was old," I say. "There is so much I have to do today. Can you come over and handle this?"

"Sure will do."

I can count on Brenda. She will get right in her car and even if she stops to gas up she will get here in almost no time. She can be the one to call the police. So she knows I leave a message on the counter.

I paid a few bills, returned some books to the library and bought two posters --- one of Curious George and the other is an illustration of an African folk tale. I looked over a lot of videos I but didn't buy any.

I have been thinking about Harry. He was always pleasant. Once when I was planting some shrubs in the front he said he liked the way I always kept the garden looking so nice.

Now I am at Burts. I order a cheeseburger and a Coke. I look at my phone. Brenda called several times and I got seven other messages. I had forgotten I had turned off the ringer but not being bothered by those calls was sure nice.

Margaret loves to talk. So by now I am sure at least seventy-five percent of the people living in this town have learned that Harry died. And even a lot of people who had never heard of him. I tried to keep it quiet that someone was living in the room behind my garage because this area isn't zoned for rentals.

I call Brenda and I am glad she picked up right away.

"I am inside your house," she said. "I got tired of sitting around looking at a dead fellow."

"Is he still there?" I asked. "It doesn't seem logical that all of police department's hearses are being used elsewhere."

"They were going to take the body," she said. "But headquarters told them to wait."

"What's the problem?"

"The coroner wants to see the body in its environment."

It seemed far fetched to think the Coroner's Office would have no one able to leave the office. But that is essentially what was said – the Chief Medical Examiner told my sister that their office was trying to get caught up on a backlog of autopsies. So it seemed reasonable that with everyone hard at work there would be no one available to go on-site "to see the body in its environment."

"Do you want to know something else that is interesting?"

"I don't know," I say. "Is what you have to say really that interesting?"

"Three cops came and all of them came here with their laptops," she said. "They checked Harry against lists."

"Lists?"

"They started out by looking at the lists of all the things you are suppose to notice when you first look at a dead body."

"That sounds like reasonable," I say. "But interesting?"

"But after that they brought out other lists," she says. "Lists for missing persons, missing suspects in bad crimes and unclaimed fortunes."

"Well it seems a little out there."

"There was more," she said. "They had lists for war heroes. And for people who had rare genetic diseases."

"Let me finish," I say. "Those people who were war heroes and who had suffered from weird diseases all went underground and no one knows where they are?"

"That is why they checked those lists," she said. "Maybe he was one of those missing people."

I shake my head. It seems like pie-in-the-sky to be thinking he will be linked to a large fortune that has been unclaimed and that the people who inherit it will be sending us a large amount of money as a way of saying thanks to us for taking good care of him.

And how would it become important to us if he is linked to a horrible crime? I mean other than getting something to talk about for a long time what would we gain by knowing he was once a bad criminal?

For a few moments we can day dream about what might happen.