Chapter 19: The Board

The funeral home on Lake Road had a green awning and a boardroom with a long oak table.

Seven people sat around it on Friday morning, and one of them was Bernadette.

She wore black wool and her pearls, and she was pouring tea from a thermos.

The receptionist opened the door and said, "Mrs. Dolan to see the board."

"Which Mrs. Dolan?" Bernadette said, smiling.

"The other one," I said.

I walked in with my lawyer and a laptop, and the room went quiet.

The funeral director sat at the head of the table, a heavy man in a gray suit, and he started to stand.

"Mrs. Dolan, we don't take unscheduled..."

"I'm not here to bury anyone," I said. "I'm here about a cremation five years ago in March."

Bernadette set the thermos down.

"Lena. This is a place of grief. Please don't embarrass yourself."

"You sit on this board. I'm asking the board if it knows what it signed."

I put the laptop on the table and pressed the key.

The doctor's voice filled the room, thin and steady.

"She said, 'My son will not bury a child this morning.' I took a hundred thousand dollars."

The board members looked at each other.

Bernadette didn't move.

I played four minutes.

I let the tape run past the swap, to the part where Bernadette named the baby that had been dead for weeks.

When it finished, a woman at the end of the table had both hands over her mouth.

"That is a forged confession from a woman with a grudge," Bernadette said.

"The doctor has already sent a copy to the state medical board," my lawyer said. "She sent it yesterday."

"I want the intake record," I said to the director.

"The cremation of Baby Boy Dolan, 2 pounds 9 ounces, authorized by Bernadette Dolan. I want the file now."

Keep reading free with an account. Start He Raised the Cup With His Mistress, But the Boy Was Mine from Chapter 1, then sign up free to read the rest of this chapter.