Jazz Funeral

JazzFest?”
    She nodded. “I don’t see how I can not do it—but on the other hand, I don’t know if I should. I mean, I want to do it—for Ham. The whole festival is a memorial to him, did you know that? I think I have to do it, don’t you? But would it be crass?”
    “It’s a problem.” A PR problem, it seemed. An interesting thing to have on your mind the day after your lover’s death. Ti-Belle looked a little pale, but she wasn’t exactly puffy from crying.
    “What do you think? Should I or not?”
    It was the question Skip was hoping to avoid, but what the hell—Ti-Belle might think she owed Skip for the right answer, and it was obvious she’d already made up her mind what that was. All she needed was someone else’s stamp of approval.
    “Well, frankly,” said Skip, “I think you’d be conspicuous by your absence. They’ve kind of got you in a box by making the festival a memorial—that way if you don’t feel up to doing it, it would look as if you didn’t really care.”
    Ti-Belle looked modestly at the floor for a moment, possibly to hide tears (or their absence). “I s’pose you’re right. I’ve kind of been thinking along those lines myself.”
    My turn , thought Skip, and plunged in: “Ti-Belle, I know this is painful for you, but I’m wondering if you know of anyone who might have a reason to kill Ham. Had he had any arguments with anyone? Any ongoing disagreements? Enemies?”
    “Well, no, this isn’t painful. It sort of helps—I do better if I keep my mind working. And I’ve been trying to think about that myself. In fact, I’ve kind of come up with a suspect list.”
    “You have?” Skip couldn’t quite conceal her astonishment.
    Ti-Belle looked proud of herself, almost smug. She slung hair out of her eyes, poured tea, and handed Skip a glass. “Well, just in my head. Let’s go to the living room—this place gives me the creeps.”
    She talked as she walked. Skip liked the way she stomped around barefoot. Even liked her slightly too frank revelations. Except for the obvious knowledge that she was gorgeous, she had an ingenuous quality about her, a kind of country style that befitted a career Cajun. “I gotta get out of this house. Soon. After the funeral, I guess.”
    “When’s that?”
    “Oh, Monday. When they decided to go on with JazzFest, George and Patty decided that’s what they’d better do.”
    “It’ll be a jazz funeral, I’ll bet.”
    Ti-Belle lit up. “Well, I’ll bet it will! That’s the only appropriate thing. Well, of course it will.”
    They had returned to the living room and sat, Skip on the sofa, Ti-Belle in a ladderback rocking chair. “About your suspect list. I’m all ears.”
    “Ariel comes to mind first of all. She’s a rejected lover, you know.”
    Skip made a note, hiding her eyes. “Ariel. Could I ask how you know that?”
    “Well, Ham, of course, after I mentioned she was always making goo-goo eyes. I thought he was so innocent he just hadn’t noticed. But he said he’d kind of, you know, done it with her once when they were both kind of drunk, and she never could forget. It embarrassed him, but he had to put up with it. He sure wasn’t going to fire her just because he was embarrassed. Ham wasn’t like that.”
    “How long has Ariel worked for him?”
    “Oh, three years, I guess.”
    “Did that incident happen before or after you came on the scene?”
    She threw back her head, hair falling prettily about, and laughed as if she was truly delighted. “See, I’m not dead. I can laugh a little bit. If it was after I met him, then I’d be the one with a motive, wouldn’t I?”
    “You sure would.” Skip held her gaze, smiling just as broadly as Ti-Belle.
    “Well, it was before. Of course. Whatever else you say about Ham, he was an honorable man.”
    “Everyone says so.” Saint Ham. “Who else is on the list?”
    “His dad and his uncles.”
    Skip was shocked. “Acting in concert?”
    “Oh, God, I hope not. But I s’pose anything’s possible.”
    “Why would his dad and his uncles want to kill him?”
    “Business disagreements. They were always arguing about what to do with the damned sandwich places.”
    “And what was the basis of the argument?”
    She leaned forward, defiant. “Frankly, I never asked. I just never was that interested.”
    “How did you know about the arguments?”
    “Oh, Ham’d be in his study talking on the phone, and then he’d come out all red in the face and huffing and