Chapter 2 - THE FUNERAL WITHOUT A BODY
Claire learned of her grandmother’s death from a six-word message sent by her father.
Mother is gone. Funeral on Friday.
No call.
No explanation.
When Claire telephoned Rosewood House, the staff line had been disconnected. Samuel Pierce did not answer his office phone. His assistant claimed he was unavailable due to a family emergency.
Richard told Claire that Evelyn had suffered a heart attack in her bedroom shortly after midnight.
The body, he said, had already been transferred to a private facility.
“Why so quickly?” Claire asked.
“Because I made the arrangements.”
“Did a doctor examine her?”
“Of course.”
“Which doctor?”
Richard’s silence lasted half a second too long.
Then he said, “Do not turn this into one of your little investigations.”
Claire looked at the five-million-dollar check lying on her kitchen table.
“What happened to Mr. Pierce?”
“He left town.”
“Why?”
“How would I know?”
“He was with Grandma yesterday.”
“And now she is dead. People leave after unpleasant events.”
Claire’s fingers tightened around the phone.
“I want to see her.”
“You will see the casket at the funeral.”
“I want to see Grandma.”
“You are behaving like a child.”
Richard ended the call.
Claire did not sleep that night.
She searched online for the institution printed in tiny letters along the lower edge of the check.
Rose Meridian Clearing House.
No public website appeared.
No address.
No registration record.
Only a decades-old business article mentioning a private financial consortium that had funded railway lines, agricultural companies, and early telecommunications projects.
The consortium had supposedly dissolved in 1987.
Claire examined the signature.
Evelyn Rose Whitaker.
The ink shimmered faintly when the paper moved beneath the light.
Near the corner was a nearly invisible symbol: a silver rose with seven petals.
Claire slid Grandma’s ring from her pocket.
The design matched perfectly.
The next morning, she visited Samuel Pierce’s office.
The door was locked.
Through the glass, she saw overturned files and a broken lamp.
A white envelope had been pushed beneath the door.
CLAIRE was written across it.
She looked down the corridor. No one was there.
Inside the envelope was a single brass key and a handwritten note.
Do not attend the funeral until you have opened the music box.
S.P.
Claire drove home immediately.
The blue music box had remained in the back of her bedroom closet since she was fourteen. Grandma Evelyn had given it to her after Elizabeth’s funeral.
Claire remembered refusing to open presents that year.
Evelyn had placed the box beside her and said, “Some gifts wait until grief has loosened its grip.”
Claire removed it from the closet.
The paint was faded, but the small silver ballerina inside still turned when Claire lifted the lid.
She inserted the brass key into a narrow slot beneath the velvet lining.
A hidden compartment opened.
Inside was a cassette tape, a folded map of Rosewood House, and a photograph.
The photograph showed Evelyn as a young woman standing beside another woman who looked remarkably like her.
They appeared to be twins.
On the back, someone had written:
Evelyn and Eleanor, 1968.
Claire had never heard of Eleanor.
She found an old cassette player in a storage box and inserted the tape.
Static filled the room.
Then Evelyn’s voice emerged.
“Claire, if you are hearing this, someone has announced my death.”
Claire stopped breathing.
“That announcement may be true,” Evelyn continued, “but you must not assume it is true merely because Richard says it.”
Claire sat on the edge of the bed.
“The check I gave you is valid. Do not show it to anyone in the family. Take it to Bellhaven Crown Bank and ask for the regional manager. Do not use the public deposit counter.”
Evelyn paused.
“You may be followed. You may be threatened. People who ignored me while I was alive will become deeply interested in my intentions once they believe I am dead.”
Claire looked toward the window.
A dark sedan was parked across the street.
It had not been there an hour earlier.
“Before you go to the bank,” Evelyn said, “attend the funeral. Look inside the casket. Trust your own eyes.”
The recording ended.
Claire replayed the last sentence.
Look inside the casket.
Friday morning arrived beneath a gray sky.
The funeral was held in the private chapel at Rosewood Cemetery. Black cars formed a line along the curved drive.
Claire entered alone.
The casket was closed.
Richard stood beside it, accepting condolences with solemn dignity. Diane wore a black veil. Ethan looked bored. Vanessa had brought a photographer from a society magazine.
When Richard saw Claire, his expression tightened.
“You came.”
“Why is the casket closed?”
“That was Mother’s preference.”
“How do you know?”
“She left instructions.”
“Show them to me.”
Richard stepped closer.
“This is neither the time nor the place.”
Claire walked toward the casket.
He caught her arm.
“Do not make a scene.”
She pulled free.
The chapel doors had begun to close behind the final guests.
Claire reached the casket and placed both hands beneath the lid.
Diane gasped.
“Claire, stop.”
Claire lifted.
The lid moved three inches before Richard grabbed it from the other side and slammed it shut.
A sharp metallic sound came from inside.
Not the soft movement of fabric.
Something hard.
Claire stared at him.
“What is in there?”
“My mother.”
“No.”
Richard’s jaw flexed.
Ethan moved between them.
“You’ve lost your mind.”
Claire looked down.
A thin strip of white material had been trapped beneath the lid.
She pulled it free.
It was not burial fabric.
It was plastic packing foam.
Richard snatched it from her.
“The casket was secured for transport.”
Claire turned toward the guests.
“Has anyone here seen my grandmother’s body?”
Whispers spread through the chapel.
Diane seized Claire’s elbow.
“You are humiliating the family.”
Claire raised her voice.
“Has anyone seen her?”
No one answered.
Richard signaled to two security guards.
“Remove her.”
Claire stepped away from the casket.
“I’m leaving.”
She looked directly into her father’s eyes.
“But I’m going to find out what you buried.”
Richard’s face remained controlled until she passed him.
Then he whispered, “Deposit that check, and you will destroy everything your grandmother built.”
Claire stopped.
She had never told him she intended to deposit it.
She turned around.
Richard was already facing the mourners again.
Outside the chapel, the dark sedan waited beneath the bare trees.
As Claire approached her car, its rear window lowered.
Samuel Pierce was sitting inside.
May you like
There was blood on his collar.
“Get in,” he said. “Your father has the wrong body, and the wrong people are about to realize it.”
