Irish Parade Murder

by Leslie Meier

  “Bill’s his own boss, isn’t he?”

  “Yes, but sometimes he’s made arrangements with subcontractors, or is meeting a new client, or the bank . . .”

  “Well, family is more important than that, isn’t it? And the girls have to eat lunch, don’t they?”

  “They don’t usually eat lunch at home. They’re busy with classes and jobs and various commitments,” said Lucy, keeping her eyes on the road. “And so am I,” she added, thinking of her own job, which was becoming more demanding every day.

  “Well, what do you suggest? Should I cancel?” There was a definite note of anger, or perhaps frustration, in Edna’s voice.

  “Let’s see what Bill thinks,” suggested Lucy, eager to pass the buck. She was only the daughter-in-law, after all. Bill would have to sort this out with his mother.

  “Good idea,” said Edna, patting her purse.

  Lucy flipped on the radio, finding an oldies station, and the music filled the uncomfortable silence as they drove on through the night.

  The old farmhouse on Red Top Road looked welcoming when they finally reached home, with all the windows alight and the porch light glowing. As soon as they turned into the driveway, the girls and Bill bounded out of the kitchen door to welcome Edna.

  “Grandma, you’re finally here,” said Sara, giving Edna a big hug.

  “It’s great to see you,” said Zoe, enveloping her grandmother in another hug.

  “Mom!” was all Bill said, wrapping his arms around his mother and lifting her off the ground.

  Then everyone pitched in to carry the bags and bring Edna into the house, where sandwiches, cookies, and cold drinks awaited on the kitchen table.

  “Make yourself comfortable. Freshen up, if you want, in the powder room; the girls will take your things upstairs,” said Bill.

  “I think I will,” said Edna, stepping into the downstairs bath.

  Bill turned to Lucy and, in a lowered voice, asked, “How’s she doing?”

  Lucy rolled her eyes. “She’s invited Kate Klein here for lunch tomorrow,” she whispered in response. “She wants her to meet the whole family.”

  Bill’s bearded jaw dropped. “What?”

  “You heard me,” whispered Lucy, as the door opened and Edna returned to the kitchen.

  “Everything all right?” asked Edna, sensing that something was going on.

  “Absolutely fine,” said Lucy. “Why don’t you have a bite? I know I’m hungry. I didn’t get any supper.”

  “No supper?” Edna turned to Bill, who was getting a beer out of the fridge. “You’re not taking very good care of your wife. You shouldn’t have let poor Lucy make that trip to the airport.”

  “Not up to me, Mom,” said Bill, joining them at the table. “Lucy insisted.”

  “And where are the girls?” demanded Edna. “I didn’t come all this way so they could hide from me.”

  “They’re not hiding; they’re upstairs showering and getting ready for tomorrow. They’ve got demanding schedules, and they’re rehearsing for a talent show. You’ll see plenty of them, don’t worry.”

  “What about you, Mom? Do you have any plans for tomorrow?” asked Bill, taking the bull by the horns.

  “Well, as Lucy knows, I was hoping that we could all meet Kate Klein and welcome her into the family,” said Edna, with a discontented shrug, “but Lucy didn’t seem to think that was a good idea.”

  “Well, frankly, neither do I,” said Bill, taking the seat opposite his mother. “We don’t really know much about this woman or her motives. We need to be cautious, especially since there’s the problem with Dad’s will.”

  Edna’s eyebrows shot up, and her chin quivered with anger. “Are you saying that Kate is some sort of gold digger?”

  “I’m not saying that; I’m saying she might be.”

  Edna threw the sandwich she was eating back onto her plate and glared at Bill. “That’s a terrible thing to say. And what am I supposed to do? I’ve already invited Kate. I can’t just take it back. It’s embarrassing, and hurtful. She’s a very lovely woman.”

  “Bill is only trying to protect you,” said Lucy, trying to smooth things over.

  “Well, I don’t need protection!” declared Edna, her chin quivering. “I’m a grown woman, and I can take care of myself.”

  “Of course, you can. But it’s a fact that there are lots of swindlers out there who take advantage of seniors every day . . .”

  “Now you’re acting as if I’m some senile old lady and Kate is a swindler! Well, I never . . .”

  “Mom, calm down,” said Bill, in his father-knows-best tone of voice.

  Amazingly, Edna responded by falling silent. Lucy wondered if Bill was simply repeating something he’d seen his father do when Edna got upset.

  “This is what we’re going to do. We’re going to meet Kate Klein at some point soon, and we’re going to do it at our friend Bob Goodman’s office. Bob is an attorney, and he knows how to handle these family situations.”

  “Meeting at a lawyer’s office doesn’t seem to show much family feeling,” complained Edna, sullenly.

  “Maybe not. But if Kate isn’t who she claims to be, I don’t think she’ll show up. And if she is truly interested in finding her family, she’ll be happy to do it anywhere, lawyer’s office or not.”

  “I suppose you’re right,” grumbled Edna. “I’ll call her and put her off, tell her I’m working out the details.”

  “Great,” said Bill, sounding relieved. “That will give us some time to get organized. And if this Kate is as wonderful as you say, we can all go out for ice cream afterward.”

  “That would be nice,” said Edna, picking up her sandwich.

  * * *

  The next morning, Lucy called Bob Goodman to arrange the meeting Bill suggested but ran into an unforeseen obstacle. “No can do,” said Bob, “I’m leaving today for a legal conference in Cincinnati.”

  “When will you be back?” asked Lucy.

  “Not ’til Monday.”

  “Oh,” said Lucy, with a sense of relief at this postponement. “I’ll call your office and make an appointment for next week. Have a good time.”

  “I always do,” said Bob, in a cheery voice. “I look forward to it all year.”

  Worried that Edna would be disappointed at the delayed meeting, Lucy decided it would be best to keep her busy and entertained. Since she had to work, she called her old friend Miss Tilley and asked if she would like company for lunch.

  “I always love to see you, Lucy,” replied Miss Tilley, in a spritely tone that belied her advanced age. Only her oldest and dearest friends dared to call her by her first name, Julia, and they were a sadly diminished group.

  “I can’t make it, unfortunately. I’ve got to cover Gabe McGourt’s wake. I was thinking of my mother-in-law, Edna. She came in last night, and she’s at loose ends, as everybody’s busy today. I was hoping she could have lunch with you and then go on to the rehearsal with Rachel.”

  Rachel, Bob’s wife, provided home health care for Miss Tilley.

  “Then Edna could see Sara and Zoe’s dance routine, and she could come home with them,” finished Lucy. “I don’t want to leave her moping all alone in the house.”

  “That sounds fine to me,” said Miss Tilley. “Rachel and I have pretty much exhausted every topic under the sun, so it will be nice to have a guest with a fresh perspective. I hope Edna has a big appetite. Rachel made split pea soup yesterday and you know how that goes on and on; it seems to grow in the pot.”

  “Thanks,” said Lucy. “I really appreciate this.”

  She was just about to leave the house when Edna made an appearance, washed and dressed and ready for the day. “I hope you don’t mind, Lucy, but I peeked into your new bedroom and I have to say you’ve decorated it beautifully.”

  “I can hardly believe it’s mine,” said Lucy. “When I wake up I think I’m in a fancy hotel.”

  “Well, you and Bill deserve it, and a genuine master suite will
certainly add to the value of your house.” She sat down at the table and Lucy gave her a cup of coffee, then sat down opposite her and explained her plan. Edna willingly agreed, having met Miss Tilley and Rachel during past visits. She didn’t mention meeting Kate Klein, and Lucy didn’t bring it up, unwilling to reopen a sensitive subject. The girls hadn’t awakened yet, and Lucy was running late, so she reluctantly left Edna to make her own breakfast and texted Sara with instructions to drive Edna to Miss Tilley’s at eleven-thirty. Having completed those arrangements, she left the house to drive to work, her mind already turning to the day’s news. The wake was scheduled to begin at eleven, so she hoped to finish up the school budget story and make a start on the Gabe McGourt profile.

  When she reached the office, Phyllis delivered an update. “Ted called; the wake is huge, and you need to get over to McHoul’s Funeral Home right away.”

  “But it’s not even ten,” protested Lucy.

  “I guess he’s got his reasons,” said Phyllis, with a shrug. “I don’t make the assignments, I just pass them on.”

  “Okay,” said Lucy, turning on her heels and going back to her car to make the drive to Gilead.

  As she approached Gilead, she noticed that black and blue ribbons had been affixed to each light pole on Main Street, and many businesses were flying BLUE LIVES MATTER flags. Passing the high school, she noticed the parking lot was filling up with police cruisers from cities and towns near and far. She’d driven past when it struck her that she was missing a photo op, so she turned around and took a few pictures of the scene. Back in the car, she observed a similar scene at the Department of Public Works facility DPW, where the parking area was rapidly filling with scores of police motorcycles. Again, she parked and was snapping photos when one of the officers approached her.

  “Can I help you?” he asked, in an official tone of voice.

  “I’m from the local paper,” said Lucy, producing her press card. “I’m covering the wake.”

  “Right,” he said, with an approving nod.

  “Do you mind if I ask a few questions?”

  “I’m not authorized to talk to the press,” he said. “The sheriff’s office is putting out a press release.”

  “I don’t need to mention your name,” said Lucy, noticing his badge, which read P. MAHONEY. “I just need a little background. I want to know why you came today, and did you come far?”

  The officer considered. “I guess there’s no harm in that. What I want to say is that no distance is too far when a fellow officer has fallen, and I’m here along with my brothers and sisters in blue to honor Gabe McGourt’s sacrifice.”

  “Thanks,” said Lucy, writing it all down in her notebook. “And off the record, how far did you come?”

  “I’m from Jamestown, New York. We made it in fourteen hours, driving mostly at night.”

  “Wow,” said Lucy, impressed despite herself. “And are they taking care of you? Do you get lodging and food?”

  “Oh, yeah. We’re good,” he assured her, without providing details.

  Lucy looked around at the large number of officers, which was growing by the minute. “Where are you all staying? And eating?” she asked.

  “I’d better go,” said Officer Mahoney. “Have a nice day.”

  “You, too,” said Lucy, watching as he joined a group of officers who had gathered outside the DPW building and wondering how nice it really would be, considering he was going to attend a wake.

  When she arrived at the funeral home, she was surprised to see that the walk leading to the neat clapboard building was lined with officers, all dressed in their blue uniforms, all holding American flags that fluttered in the March breeze. The parking lot was cordoned off, and so was the street, so she had to drive some distance before she was able to park on the side of the road. Then she had to hike back to the funeral home, where she found Ted and other reporters standing behind a line of metal barriers. The TV stations got better treatment; they were allowed to set up their cameras on the other side of the street, directly opposite, with a clear view of the street and the main door.

  “How long have you been here?” asked Lucy, joining Ted and the others.

  “Over an hour,” said Ted. He tilted his head toward the line of flag-bearing officers. “They got here soon after.”

  “Any sign of the family?” she asked.

  “Not yet,” he replied, but it was only moments later that a siren was heard and the flag-bearing officers snapped to attention as a procession was spotted advancing down the street, blue lights flashing. It was led by the motorcycle officers, proceeding in a double line and pulling off, one by one, to park in the cordoned-off section of road. Then came the cruisers, representing police departments from near and far, which proceeded into the parking area. Finally, the sheriff’s car arrived and stopped in front of the walk, blue lights winking. The driver got out and walked around to the passenger side of the car, where he opened the front door and the sheriff himself stepped out. He then waited while the officer opened the rear door, and Gabe McGourt’s two boys popped out, dressed in miniature black suits. They waited on the sidewalk while the sheriff assisted their grandmother, Mary Catherine, out of the car. The small group proceeded into the funeral home for a private viewing, which lasted for a good ten minutes, while the assembled officers fell into a double line. Then the doors opened, and the line advanced into the building, past the honor guard of flag bearers who were standing at attention on either side of the walkway.

  Other mourners, friends of the family, formed a loose queue behind the officers. The line moved slowly, and it was well past one o’clock by the time everyone was admitted and allowed to express their condolences to the family.

  “Any sign of his ex?” asked Ted, whispering in Lucy’s ear.

  “No. She’s kind of conspicuously absent, if you ask me. I tried to get her to talk about McGourt, but she wouldn’t say a word.”

  “Interesting,” said Ted. He cocked his head at the clusters of officers who had exited the funeral home and were standing in scattered little groups. “I guess I’ll see if I can get some quotes from these cops.”

  “Good luck. I tried earlier, but all Officer Mahoney from Jamestown, New York, told me was that the sheriff was going to issue a press release. They’re obviously under orders not to talk.”

  “There’s always someone who didn’t get the memo,” said Ted, with a grin. “You go on back to the office and track down that press release.”

  “Aye, aye, sir,” said Lucy, who was tired of standing and glad to get moving. Besides, all these cops made her feel uneasy and slightly guilty, though she knew she hadn’t broken any laws, at least not laws that she knew about.

  * * *

  Lucy left the office at four and headed over to the Community Church to meet Edna, who was watching the rehearsal. When she arrived, she found her sitting in a folding chair, smiling at her granddaughters, who were practicing their routine.

  “Lucy, those girls are so clever and talented,” enthused Edna, as Lucy took a seat beside her.

  “They are pretty special. I’m going to miss Sara; she’s moving to Boston in June to start her job at the Museum of Science.”

  “You’ve got to let your chicks fly,” said Edna, with a resigned little smile.

  “I know,” agreed Lucy. “Did you enjoy lunch with Miss Tilley and Rachel?”

  “Oh, yes. Miss Tilley is a card. She’s got this pillow on her sofa that says, ‘If you haven’t got anything nice to say about anybody, come sit by me.’ ”

  “I know,” laughed Lucy. “I think it’s a quote from Alice Roosevelt Longworth, Teddy’s daughter, who was quite a wit in her time. But don’t be fooled; Miss T is a sweetie, though she tries to hide it.”

  “I found her very interesting indeed,” said Edna, clapping enthusiastically as the girls finished their routine. After taking a bow or two, they clattered down the stage steps in their clunky step-dancing shoes and joined their mother and grandmother.
/>   “Did you really like it?” asked Zoe.

  “Absolutely,” said Edna, beaming at them.

  “So, Mom, what’s going on?” asked Sara. “The town is crawling with police. They’re everywhere, and there’s all these weird black-and-white American flags with a blue stripe.”

  “They’re Blue Lives Matter flags to show support for the police; everybody knows that,” said Zoe, eager to put her sister down. “Where have you been? Under a rock or something?”

  “I’ve been busy finishing up my degree and getting a job,” said Sara, defending herself as she sat down and started changing her shoes.

  “Well, it’s this movement, a reaction to Black Lives Matter,” said Zoe, bending over to lace up her duck boots. “It’s apparently okay for cops to shoot black people, and if they say they don’t like it, the cops come back at them with this Blue Lives Matter thing.”

  Sara looked puzzled. “Don’t all lives matter?”

  “Some more than others, I guess,” replied Zoe, dropping her dancing shoes into a bag.

  “This is not the time to say anything that could be construed as critical of the police,” advised Lucy, speaking in a low voice. “The county is full of cops who came for Gabe McGourt’s funeral. I was at the wake today, and there were hundreds, maybe thousands. It was a pretty overwhelming show of solidarity.”

  “And you have to remember that this officer’s family and his friends have sustained a terrible loss,” said Edna. “Miss Tilley told me he died in the most awful way, in a fire. And he leaves two little boys. It’s terribly sad.”

  “But it wasn’t like he was a hero or anything,” insisted Sara. “He was a prison guard, and he died because he crashed his truck.”

  “It’s all a big fraud,” insisted Zoe, as they began walking to the door. “This girl Allie—you know her, Mom.”

  “She was in your class in high school, wasn’t she?” asked Lucy, remembering a tiny girl with a big smile.

  “Yeah,” continued Zoe, speaking rather loudly to be heard over the rehearsing Irish tenor. “Now she works in the bakery at the IGA. Well, she spent a couple of months in the county jail on drug charges. She said that this Gabe guy was one of the worst corrections officers. She was terrified of him.”