4th Musketelle

46. Unwelcome Visitor

  Bert Nagy tugged at his collar, attempting to get some more air moving through his windpipe. It had been quite a while since he’d worn a suit and tie, and his restricted body was crying out in protest. He felt hot and awkward as he led his family across the asphalt parking lot to the funeral home door. Melted tar snatched at his shoes.

  Then they were inside the building. All was silence and air-conditioned chill, like in a meat locker.

  “Wow, this is really cool!” Teddy exclaimed.

  Bert cuffed him.

  “One more word out of you and – ”

  Sally gave Bert a sharp look and took the children in tow.

  “Come on, kids,” she said.

  Bert trailed behind as they entered the viewing room with the Frank Armstrong placard outside the door. Why the hell had he brought the family along? Well, it was proper that he bring Sally so as to ‘pay their respects,’ wasn’t it? The Armstrong contract had been a big part of their family income, and it was only fitting that they both acknowledged that.

  Besides, he still suffered from an irrational fear that people might connect him with Frank Armstrong’s death somehow. He’d been at the house that day, hadn’t he? Maybe somebody would put 2 and 2 together. He knew this was ridiculous, the mere aftershock of a guilty conscience, but he still wanted Sally along for appearance sake.

  And the kids were having one of their frequent wars. No sitter was interested in watching them, and left to their own devices, they just might succeed in burning the house down this time. Besides they’d “never seen a corpse,” as Teddy put it, and they were eager to come.

  Sally took the kids to an empty row near the back and sat down with them. Bert walked on along down the center aisle toward the coffin with a lugubrious expression on his face, as if he’d just lost his best friend in the world. He nodded toward Laila as he passed her; she nodded back sadly.

  Bert stopped before the coffin and gazed down at the corpse within. Frank Armstrong’s expression was very solemn and stern, death had not softened it one bit. He looked about ready to chew somebody out big time.

  Had to ruin everything, didn’t you, Mr. Big Shot? Bert thought rancorously. I should have run you over when I had the chance!

  He looked about furtively to make sure nobody had guessed his thoughts. Of course they couldn’t read his mind, quit being paranoid. But there was one old woman off to the left gazing steadily at him with a knowing expression on her face.

  Well ... to hell with her!

  He turned back toward Frank. More bitter thoughts vomited out from his store of resentment:

  What’s it to you if I made it to the Cayman Islands? You wouldn’t be any more dead than you are now. And you could have gone out quick – like a man, instead of crumpled on the floor like a busted piece of furniture.

  His eyes widened, and he took a step back. Right before him, Frank’s expression seemed to shift into a malicious little smile, as if he was pleased with Bert’s predicament.

  I’ve gotta get out of here, I’m losing my goddam mind!

  Bert made an clumsy obeisance and turned away from the casket. In the back row, Ted and Judy were pushing at each other. Bert shot them an angry look as their mother attempted to separate them. Heads turned to observe the disgraceful episode; whispered comments of disapproval followed Bert as he moved down the center aisle from the casket.

  He approached Laila and sat in the vacant chair beside her.

  “How good of you to come, Bert, Laila said, “... and your lovely family, too.”

  “I’m sorry for your – loss, Mrs. Armstrong,” Bert replied.

  He glanced around to make sure that nobody was listening.

  “We need to talk,” he said in a low voice, “about ... well, you know.”

  Laila looked back toward a large, completely bald man sitting in the row behind her.

  “Could you handle this, please, Mr. Hogan?” she said.

  “Certainly, Mrs. Armstrong,” the man replied.

  “Thank you.”

  Hogan stood and placed a hand on Bert’s shoulder.

  “May I have a word with you outside, Mr. Nagy?” he asked with politeness covering a firm command.

  Bert quickly sized up the situation. Hogan was a strong looking man, but with a good 15 or 20 year disadvantage. Bert felt he could overpower him if push came to shove. But then a huge goon, who’d been lurking unnoticed toward the rear, detached himself from the wall and started moving toward him. It was the same bastard who’d turned him away from the Armstrong gate!

  Bert realized the odds against him were hopeless.

  “Uh ... sure,” he said.

  Bert got up reluctantly, glancing down at Mrs. Armstrong. She’d turned her face away, however, as if he no longer existed. He followed Hogan out of the room. Sally looked up curiously as they passed, but Bert waved her off.

  Out in the corridor, Hogan got down to business.

  “Mrs. Armstrong has asked me, as her personal attorney, to inform you that your services are no longer required,” he said.

  “What!”

  “Please, not so loud, Mr. Nagy,” Hogan said. “Let’s conduct ourselves like gentlemen.”

  He removed a check from his jacket pocket and handed it to Bert.

  “She has instructed me to give you this as a severance payment,” he said. “I think you’ll agree that it buys out your contract more than adequately.”

  Bert looked at the check with disbelief. Sure, it was a nice chunk of change, if all you were talking about was landscape work – but nothing like the amount he deserved for all the trouble he’d gone through. A bitter sense of injustice rose in his throat like the aftershock of a cheap whiskey.

  “We’ll see about that!” he blustered.

  “Please be reasonable,” Hogan said.

  Bert waved the check under Hogan’s nose.

  “This is reasonable?”

  The lawyer sighed and glanced back toward the viewing room door. Bert knew what that glance meant; Hogan was considering a summons to the goon.

  Well, bring him on! Bert thought furiously. If they want a scene, they can sure as hell have one!

  Hogan turned his gaze back toward Bert and tried a different approach.

  “You should be aware that we know of certain tax irregularities in which you are involved, Mr. Nagy,” he said.

  Bert flinched. He felt suddenly tiny and vulnerable. How much did this s.o.b. know? Who told him? He thought of Sally’s threat as she’d lain on their bed staring vindictively at the ceiling. And what about the illegal immigrants he’d been paying surreptitiously – did somebody get to them?

  Hogan smiled inwardly; he’d struck a nerve with his bluff. And if he needed to go beyond bluff, he knew there’d be dirt for his investigators to find.

  “We have kept this information confidential until now,” he said. “There is no need for it to become known to the authorities, is there?”

  “Alright, I get it – Mr. Big Shot,” Bert said. “Is it okay if I go get my family, or is your man in there planning to shoot me first?”

  “Of course, Mr. Nagy,” Hogan said. “And thank you for coming to pay your respects.”

  “Right!”

  Bert spun on his heel and stalked furiously back to the viewing room, brushing past Hogan as he did so. Hogan flicked off his sleeve and straightened his jacket.

  “Peasant,” he sniffed.

  He returned to the viewing room to monitor the departure of the Nagy clan.