by Shari Lapena
“Are they going to arrest him?”
“I don’t know. I hope not. Catherine says they don’t have any evidence. They didn’t find anything at his house.” She pauses. “Except—”
“Except what?” Jake asks.
She tells him about the disposable coveralls in the garage and swears him to secrecy.
Jake says tentatively, “I saw him ask your father for money that night, and he shot him down.” He adds, “I didn’t tell the detectives about that.”
She looks down at the scratched table in front of her. “I don’t know what to do.”
“There’s nothing you can do,” Jake assures her. “Just sit it out. What’s going to happen is going to happen.” He reaches out and takes her hand. “And I’m here for you. You know that, right?”
She leans in and kisses him softly on the mouth, grateful. She breaks off the kiss.
“Do you want me there tomorrow? At the funeral?” he asks.
“If you don’t mind,” she says. She grimaces. “It’s going to be fucking awful. The police will be there, watching everything.”
If Dan tries to talk to Jake at the funeral, she thinks, she’ll be there, right beside him, and put a stop to it. Their coffees finished, she says, “Maybe we should go back to your place and figure out what you’re going to wear tomorrow.”
“That’s just an excuse to get me into bed, isn’t it?” he says.
She smiles.
35
Go on,” Reyes says to Audrey, interested to hear what she has to say.
“That family had problems,” Audrey begins. “Sheila wasn’t good for my brother. She was weak and frivolous. She didn’t bring out the best in him. Fred hated weakness; it made him angry.”
“Then why did he marry a weak woman?” Barr interjects.
She glances at Barr. “I don’t know,” she admits. She sighs and says, “Maybe it was easier for him than marrying a strong one.” She pauses for a moment. “Sheila—she was a self-absorbed woman who didn’t show much interest in her children. It was a troubled family. They won’t tell you that, but I know. They want everyone to think everything was perfect. But the kids hated Fred.”
“Why?” Reyes asks.
“Because he was awful to them. Fred could be cruel, especially to Dan.” She takes a sip of her coffee, then continues. “Fred had more money than he knew what to do with, and he didn’t skimp on his kids, especially in the early years.
“Those kids were brought up accustomed to having wonderful things,” Audrey explains. “But then Fred started taking things away. His kids had disappointed him, you see. He had such great expectations for them when they were little. He was especially unhappy with Dan. Both girls have more going for them than Dan ever did, if you ask me. Anyway, Fred was a brilliant businessman, and Dan just didn’t have what he had. Dan wanted to please his father, but nothing was ever good enough. And Fred belittled him all the time, destroyed his confidence. It’s as if once he decided that Dan was never going to measure up, he couldn’t resist taking out his anger and dissatisfaction on him at every turn. He sold the company so that Dan couldn’t have it. I’m sure that it was probably the right business decision, but I also know that he did it with malice. He wanted to hurt Dan, for disappointing him.” She stops and takes a deep breath. “He could be petty that way.”
“So you think Dan killed them,” Reyes says.
“I don’t know,” she replies. “But I’m certain one of them did.”
“Why are you so sure?”
“Fred was dying. He had pancreatic cancer, and he knew he didn’t have much time. He refused all treatment, except painkillers. Anyway, he felt that he’d been overly generous to his kids, and that perhaps it had ruined them.” She tells them how Fred was going to change his will, and her conviction that at least one of the kids knew, that perhaps Fred, or possibly Sheila, had told them, and paid the ultimate price for it, before he could carry out his intentions.
Which certainly makes it unlikely that Audrey killed them, Reyes thinks. She was going to get the money soon anyway.
Audrey says, “If you ask me, one of them is a psychopath and had no trouble killing their parents. You just have to figure out which one.”
She sits back in her chair and says, “Let me tell you a few things about those kids.”
* * *
• • •
around lunchtime, Lisa slips out of the house while Dan is puttering around in the garage. She takes her car, telling him she’s going to run some errands, though she has a different destination in mind. He’s furious at his sisters; he’s convinced himself that they have betrayed him, simply by thinking the worst of him. She hadn’t liked it either, and she can understand his feelings of hurt and betrayal. And fear. But she also believes his sisters want to protect him. When she told him this, he said, “You don’t know them like I do,” and refused to discuss it any further.
She doesn’t want the conflict between Dan and his sisters on display tomorrow at the funeral. She must bring him around somehow. They must present a united front; she can’t have it looking like he’s estranged from his sisters. And he’s so on edge, prone to unexpected outbursts.
The other thing is, she’s not entirely sure they’re wrong about him. She needs support. She needs comfort. Because she’s never been so frightened in her life.
She drives the short distance to Catherine’s house, thinking about what she’s going to say. She’s become quite close to Catherine since she married Dan. Lisa has confided in Catherine more about their financial situation than Dan would strictly approve.
She pulls into the driveway, noticing that the curtains in the living room are drawn. It’s hard to believe it’s only been three days since Sheila and Fred were discovered; it feels like so much longer. Her whole world has been turned upside down.
Catherine lets her in. As soon as the door is closed behind her, Lisa bursts into unrestrained tears. Catherine pulls her into a hug and Lisa lets it all out.
Finally, they sit down in the living room, and when Lisa is cried out, she apologizes. Ted has come into the room, but wisely leaves again, retreating upstairs. “I’m not coping very well,” Lisa says miserably.
“You’re coping as well as anyone would,” Catherine tells her.
Lisa looks back at her, noticing the tension in Catherine’s face, her body. She screws up her courage and asks the question she came to ask. “You know him. Do you really think Dan could have done it?”
Catherine averts her eyes for a moment and then drags them wearily back to meet hers. “I don’t know what to think.”
“Me either,” Lisa admits in a whisper. “Ever since they found those disposable suits.”
* * *
• • •
after she’s finished at the police station, Audrey drives to Ellen’s house and pulls into the driveway. She needs to talk to someone, and there’s nobody else she can talk to about this other than Ellen.
“Audrey,” Ellen says opening the door, having spotted her car from the window. “You want some coffee?”
“Sure,” Audrey says, following her into the kitchen.
“What’s the latest?” Ellen asks as she busies herself with the coffee maker.
Audrey settles her bulk at the kitchen table, considering how much she should tell Ellen about where she’s been.
“I’ve just come from the police station,” she admits.
Ellen turns around and stares. “Why? What’s happened?”
“I told them the truth.”
“What truth?” Ellen asks, promptly forgetting about the coffee.
Audrey swallows. “I told them that I thought one of the kids did it. That Fred or Sheila probably told one of them that Fred was going to change his will in my favor.”
“Oh, Audrey,” Ellen says slowly. “Are you sure that was a good idea?�
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“I don’t know,” Audrey admits. “Maybe not.”
“Are you absolutely certain Fred was going to change his will?” Ellen asks.
“Yes,” Audrey says firmly. She can tell Ellen doesn’t quite believe her. What the hell does she know about it? “I’m positive. He promised me. He wanted to punish his children. And I think he was rewarding me for my silence all of these years.”
“Silence about what?” Ellen asks, curious.
“Nothing you need to know,” Audrey hastily assures her.
* * *
• • •
friday night after work, Rose lies down on her bed, still in her skirt and blouse, too drained to think about making something to eat. Instead, eyes closed, she stews about her situation, her thoughts going over and over the same ground. Her nerves are getting the better of her. She regrets, now, what she’s done. It was a mistake. Why did she do it? But she knows why—because she’s greedy, she’s impatient, and she took a shortcut. If she could go back in time and undo everything, she would.
After a while, she gets up off her bed and looks through her closet. She must find something to wear to the funeral tomorrow. She decides her black suit will have to do.
36
Saturday is sunny and mild—a lovely day for a funeral, Reyes thinks, straightening his tie. He and Barr will attend, as well as some officers in plain clothes, mingling with the mourners, keeping an eye on the family and those close to them. Keeping an eye on everyone.
Reyes drives to St. Brigid’s Church in Brecken Hill, where the rich people go. It’s rather grand, and he’s never been inside. He parks in the lot and walks up to the church, taking his time, looking around. He’s early, but a steady stream of people in expensive cars are entering the parking lot. He remains outside, watching mourners circulate in front of the church, arriving to pay their respects. They form little clusters, middle-aged women in dresses and hats, men in dark suits, meeting and mingling with people they know, speaking in low voices. There had been no viewing at the funeral home, at the request of the family. Just the funeral, and a private committal service for the family. In Reyes’s experience, there’s always a viewing and a wake. There will be a gathering at the golf club after the funeral.
He sees Barr arrive. She looks so different in her simple black dress and heels that, for a moment, he hadn’t recognized her.
The funeral is scheduled for two o’clock. None of the family is here yet. Then Reyes notices Audrey, with a woman in her midthirties. They look alike; it must be her daughter. He wonders if Fred’s niece hated him too. She doesn’t look particularly happy, and Reyes would bet it’s not because she’s sad about her aunt and uncle, with whom, he’s heard, she’s had little contact.
The family arrives together, in two black limousines that stop in front of the church. Catherine, Ted, and Irena alight from the first, followed by Dan, Lisa, Jenna, and Jake Brenner in the second. Reyes studies each of them closely. Dan Merton looks pale and edgy, constantly pulling at his collar; his wife, Lisa, is stiff and seems to be dreading what’s to come. Catherine is beautifully turned out in a tailored black dress, straight-backed, composed, and regal. She’s rising to the occasion, while Dan and his wife appear to be slightly overwhelmed by it. Ted stands strong and resolute beside Catherine, ready for what’s ahead. Jenna has made a small concession to the occasion and is wearing a black skirt and a subdued blouse and looks relatively conventional except for the shock of purple hair.
The family proceeds along the walk and up the steps to the church, eyes lowered, not stopping to talk to anyone. At the front door, the priest greets them and ushers them inside. Slowly, the rest of the attendees make their way into the church.
Barr comes up to stand beside him at the top of the steps.
“You look very nice,” Reyes says.
“Thank you.”
He says, “You take the left side, I’ll take the right.” As she moves away, Reyes locates the plainclothes officers mixing with the mourners, making eye contact with each. They’re not expecting anything, but it’s always good to have extra pairs of eyes. There’s another officer stationed in the parking lot and another along the street for overflow parking; both are specifically looking for a dark pickup truck with flames painted on the sides. If they spot anything, his phone is on vibrate. But he doesn’t think the truck will turn up; the driver has to know they’re looking for him.
As organ music fills the church, Reyes takes a seat close to the front on the right side, at the end of the pew next to the outer aisle. He figures there are close to three hundred people in the church by the time they are ready to start. He wonders how many of them actually knew the Mertons and how many are here simply because they were murdered.
There are two matching, gleaming mahogany coffins at the front of the church. Surrounding the coffins are plentiful flower arrangements of roses and lilies; the scent filters to where Reyes is sitting, reminding him of other funerals he has attended. But this one isn’t personal, it’s work. He keeps his eyes on the family in the front row as the service begins.
* * *
• • •
catherine realizes she is clenching her entire body tightly as the service proceeds toward its conclusion, and forces herself to physically relax. She’s gratified by the number of people in attendance. The flowers are lovely—Jenna chose well, she thinks. She’s happy with the coffins they selected. The service is respectful, tasteful. They’ve done a good job. It’s not easy to pull together a large, impressive funeral in a short time under such difficult extenuating circumstances. Now all they have to do is get through this and the reception afterward. By tonight, it will all be over and she can let herself collapse.
They’d had a rocky start this morning, but Lisa was able to get Dan speaking to her and Jenna again, persuading him that it would look bad if he and his sisters seemed estranged. Lisa had convinced him that they must present a united front, a family in mourning, together.
Catherine had spotted the two detectives in the crowd; they’re behind her somewhere, she can practically feel their eyes on the back of her neck. She sits at the end of the front pew, closest to the center aisle. Beside her is Ted. Next to Ted is Jenna, then Jake. She’s surprised to find that he actually owns a decent suit. Maybe he rented it. Then Dan and Lisa and Irena. She knows that Audrey is sitting with her daughter—who flew in for the funeral—at the end of the pew, and it upsets her. She wonders if Audrey has said anything to the detectives. Catherine has given her reading, and the priest is finishing up. There has been singing—a beautiful “Ave Maria.” The service is almost over when she senses a movement to her right. She glances over quickly. No, it can’t be. Dan is standing up as the priest drones on. Lisa has her hand on Dan’s forearm, tugging at it, her face looking up at him dismayed, then she whispers something. Catherine thinks she’s telling him to sit down. Dan is flushed now; he’s got that stubborn look on his face that she recognizes from when they were kids. He’s had enough hypocrisy—he wants to leave, she thinks. Then, as he stumbles past the knees of his wife, Irena, and Audrey and her daughter and reaches the end of the pew, he turns to the front of the church and Catherine realizes with horror that he is going to speak. She meets Lisa’s eyes and they show panic. Lisa is silently begging her to do something, to prevent some catastrophe. But what can she do? Should she try to stop him? Catherine turns her attention to the front of the church and watches in a terrible state of indecision as Dan approaches the lectern. She can hear the rustle of movement in the church as the mourners, half drowsy from the service, are jolted out of their boredom at the sight of Dan at the front of the church. She feels Ted’s hand pressing down on hers, steadying her.
Catherine swallows and fights the urge to interfere. Maybe it will be okay. And then the priest is finished and steps away, and Dan begins to speak.
“I wasn’t going to speak at Mom and Dad’s funeral.” He
swallows. The flush on his face is more pronounced now, and he tugs nervously at his collar. “I’m not much of a public speaker, so this is difficult for me.” He pauses, looks out at the crowd, and seems to lose his nerve. Catherine prays that he does lose his nerve, that he stumbles through something short and harmless like thank you for coming and retreats to his seat. But then he seems to find his courage. “I wasn’t going to speak because as many of you might know, my father and I did not get along. But there are some things I want to say.”
37
Catherine listens, her body rigid. Dan’s voice is trembling with nerves, but he seems determined to go through with this.
“Many of you know my father as a good man, a decent man. He was a successful businessman—and he was very proud of his success.” He looks out at the crowd, avoiding the faces of the family in the front row. “But he was different at home. We saw another side of him that you never saw. He was a difficult man. He was hard to live with. Demanding, hard to please.” He pauses.
Catherine senses people shifting uncomfortably in their seats behind her, but she’s frozen, staring at her younger brother, afraid of what’s coming next.
Dan continues. “I was bullied mercilessly—not at school, but by my own father. He was cruel and vindictive. He was especially hard on me, as the only boy, and probably because I disappointed him the most. I was the biggest disappointment of his life—he told me that, often.” He stops, as if to gain control of himself. “We were taught to keep quiet about these things.” Then he seems to change his tone, and his delivery, as if he’s going off script. The words come faster. “He was abusive. I recognize that now. When I was a kid, I just thought I deserved it, but I know now that no one deserves to be treated that way. He must have suffered, at the end. It was a horrible way to die. You’re probably going to hear things about me, but I want all of you to know that I didn’t do it. Even after all the terrible things he did to me, I didn’t kill him. And I would never kill my mother. I hope she didn’t suffer too much. I hope she died quickly.” He’s rambling.
