Free At Witt's End by Beth Solheim Page B

world."
    Aanders weighed Tim's answer. “You told me you had unfinished business. What kind of unfinished business would a kid have?"
    "I wondered the same thing at first. I wasn't in business like my dad, but after I listened to the other crossers sort things out, I know why."
    Both boys turned toward the sound of the hearse bay door rising.
    "Mom's back,” Aanders whispered.
    "Be quiet and she won't know you're here,” Tim said.
    "She'll think we're crazy sitting on the floor in the dark."
    Tim smiled. “She'll think you're crazy because she won't see me."
    Footsteps shuffled past the door. Aanders held his breath. He listened to the sound of her shoes against the treads while she climbed and closed the door behind her.
    Aanders exhaled, then he grasped the stainless steel counter. “I'd better get up there. She'll be looking for me.” Before Aanders left the room, he turned back toward Tim. “What was your unfinished business?"
    "I already told you. We were murdered. I saw something right before the car rolled over and I think I know who did it. But because I can't go to the sheriff, you've the only one who can help me prove it."
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10
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    Mr. Bakke lifted the deceased man's shoulders while Nan slid an adjustment block under him to incline the body for better drainage. The elderly gentleman removed several tools from the drawer and placed them in a stainless steel tray.
    "Looks good,” Nan said. She checked the entrance incision for the embalming tube. She reached up and moved the overhead light into position before inserting the arterial tubing. Nodding toward Richard Fossum, she said, “His sister called this morning. She'll deliver the clothing for the family tomorrow afternoon."
    Nan removed the cap from a jug of embalming fluid. “I can't imagine what Richard's sister is going through losing three loved ones at the same time."
    "It's going to be one humdinger of a funeral.” Mr. Bakke raised his eyes to meet Nan's.
    "I've been so busy, I can't remember if I asked you to assist with the wake as well as the funeral. If I didn't, I apologize. I don't mean to take you for granted.” Nan reached for a scissors and snipped the plastic tubing at an angle to accommodate the end of the pump's nozzle. “I'm glad Richard's sister agreed to one funeral rather than three separate ceremonies. I agree with her. It's easier for everyone to come together all at once. Some of their family's coming from quite a distance."
    Mr. Bakke patted Nan's hand. “You did ask for my help and I'll be here. Jane sent my suit to the cleaners, so I should be good to go."
    The embalming room door swung wide as Belly butted it with his head. He crossed the floor, with his nose skimming the tile. The dog snorted a wet spatter against Mr. Bakke's sandals before inspecting the far corners of the room.
    "That dog seems to know how to get in when there's no possible way,” Nan said. “Aanders must have left the door open again."
    Belly made one final turn around the room before clacking his nails across the tile floor and grunting his way up the stairs.
    "Apparently he didn't find what he was looking for,” Nan said.
    "Apparently,” Mr. Bakke said, raising his gaze toward Nan and then back to the body on the table.
    Nan closed the cooler door as she pushed the second cart into the center of the room. “Aanders asked me a question the other day I couldn't answer. He was wondering when Belly actually claimed ownership of the Witt sisters?"
    Tipping his head in contemplation, Mr. Bakke said, “I would guess it was about seven years ago. My memory isn't that good, but I think it's been that long. Now he thinks he owns them."
    Mr. Bakke handed Nan a catheter. “Once in a while I'd see him standing on the property line between Sadie's cabin and his other owners’ house. He looked pathetic. He'd sniff toward his other owners, bark at them, and then go back to Sadie's. Sadie said he was giving them one last chance to