“How did Jannine take it?”
“She acted like she didn’t even notice.”
I'd noticed the pattern myself the night of the barbecue.
Nona glanced over at her daughter. “I’m sure she did, though.”
I nodded. As Nona had said earlier, Jannine was a great believer in keeping the peace. “Do you think Eddie might have been involved with another woman?”
Nona laughed self-consciously. “Goodness, Kali, do you think I’d know something like that?”
I looked at her levelly, and she sighed. “I suppose it’s possible. Eddie always did have a tendency to cast himself in the leading role. He was a good man, but I don’t think he was ever as devoted to Jannine as she was to him. There was a restlessness about him I never understood.” She smiled thinly. “But then, I’ve never had a great deal of luck trying to understand men, or marriage.”
That made two of us.
“I’m going to take the kids home,” Nona said, after a moment. “Would you mind giving Jannine a ride when she’s ready?”
I gave Nona a hug, mumbled a few words of encouragement, and promised I wouldn’t let Marlene and Mrs. Langley smother Jannine with their compassion and good intentions. Then I went off in search of food and refreshment.
There was an abundance of the former, a wide assortment of crustless sandwiches, nut breads and cookies, but a rather limited offering when it came to the latter. Coffee, tea and a sickly pink punch. It was nothing like the last of these affairs I’d attended, the funeral of my firm’s founding father, where there’d been so much heavy drinking the widow had had to call cabs for half her guests. Maybe Mrs. Langley had been to a few funerals like that herself, or maybe this was simply the way church ladies in Silver Creek did things. Still, decorum aside, I could have used a real drink.
Instead, I settled for tea with lots of sugar. It was a poor substitute, and a silly choice for a hot afternoon. My body temperature skyrocketed with the first sip. From the looks of it, Nancy had made the same mistake. She was standing by an open window, fanning herself with her free hand.
“Whew,” she said when I’d finally threaded my way through the crowd to her side of the room, “what a day for a funeral.”
“Quite a turnout, though.”
“Amazing, isn’t it? I don’t think I even know this many people. There are some fairly big guns here, too. Look, over there with Jack Peterson, that’s Franklin Mooney, the CEO of Sierra Hospital and one of the big local contributors to the Republican Party.”
“What’s he doing here?”
“His son was our star quarterback a few years ago. And see that blonde woman with them? That’s Lora Mulford, Jerry Mulford’s wife.”
“Who’s Jerry Mulford?”
“The developer. You know, Mulford and Banks, they’re the ones putting in those posh new planned communities — everything you need for authentic ‘executive living.’ Peterson doesn’t miss an opportunity, does he? Out there pressing flesh, rounding up support, even at a good friend’s funeral. Though he did announce yesterday that the school is setting up a trust fund for Eddie’s family. You can bet he got a lot of press out of it, too.”
“I take it you’re not one of his supporters?”
“Me?” She laughed. “Hardly. Oh, he’s okay as a principal, though he’s a bit of a prig. And he’s barely got the brains to keep one jump ahead of the students. I shudder to think that he might have a hand in running the state.” She shuddered, to show me she meant it. “Speaking of students, I checked on Cheryl Newcomb. Nobody’s seen her all week, and she doesn’t take drama. Never has. I told Peterson about it first thing this morning, but he kind of brushed it aside. Like I said, the man can’t focus on too many things at once.”
“Will he call the police?”
She shrugged. “I wouldn’t count on it. But I also put in a call to the county office of Attendance and Welfare. I’m sure they won’t let it drop. Though to be honest, there’s not a lot anyone can do. We’ve had other kids run away. Usually it’s a matter of waiting until they come back of their own accord.”
One of the church ladies came by with a tray of miniature cheese puffs, each topped with a red pimento. When Nancy and I both declined, she looked crestfallen. “You’re sure?” she asked. “I made them myself.”
We were sure, we told her. They looked divine, but we were both on diets.
Nancy looked at her watch. “I’d better get going. Canceled classes or not, the final pages for the yearbook are due at the printers first thing Monday morning. I’ve got kids at school right now proofing and making last minute changes.” She gave an exasperated sigh. “This yearbook is more trouble than all my other classes combined.” Nancy wandered off looking for a place to deposit her tea cup, and I went to check on Jannine, who looked ready to wilt but insisted she was just fine.
“Half an hour longer,” I said, “then I’m taking you out of here. Anyone who hasn’t said their condolences by then can send you a card.”
Just as I was leaving, Marlene bustled up with a fresh glass of punch for Jannine and another of her reassuring little hand pats. Giving comfort was apparently one of her specialties.
Across the room, Jack Peterson was exchanging a hearty handshake with a portly, well-manicured older gentleman. I eased in behind them and waited until the older man had moved on.
“Your wife has done a wonderful job with this,” I told him. “It was good of her to take it on.”
He smiled. “She’s a born organizer.”
“I’ve been trying to get a chance to talk with you,” I said, stepping away from the woman behind me, whose handbag bounced against my back. “About Eddie’s death. I was hoping you might have some ideas.”
“Me?”
“You were a friend of his. If there was anything troubling him, or if he was involved in anything unpleasant”
Jack interrupted. “Please. This is a funeral.”
“Maybe I could set up an appointment for tomorrow then.”
“You’d have to check with the school secretary. I don’t think there’s much I can tell you, though. My conversations with Eddie tended to be more of a philosophical nature.”
“What about?”
Once again I was interrupted, this time by the minister. He held out a hand to Jack, then clasped Jack’s shoulder with his other hand. I turned and left.
I grabbed a cookie, shaped and decorated like a football, and went off to join Eddie's sister, Susie, who was holding a glass of punch against her forehead and scanning the room with her eyes.
“Damn Al anyway,” she said. “He was the one who was so anxious to leave, and now I can’t find him anywhere. He’s probably found himself a TV somewhere and gone into hibernation. Either that, or he’s off dreaming about how he’s going to spend ‘our’ inheritance.”
It sounded like A1 was as much fun in the flesh as he was on the phone. “You settled things with your uncle, then?” I asked.
She snorted. “In a manner of speaking. You know what that creep did? Not only did he renege on the couple thousand, he lowered his basic offer. Twenty grand total for Eddie’s share and mine!”
“You could always hold onto them.”
“Uh-uh. With Al not working and everything, we need the money now. George knows that too, which is why he figures he can get away with buying me out so cheap.”
“Is he here?” I asked.
She nodded sullenly. “That’s him over there with the maroon shirt and the dark, shifty eyes.”
George Marrero wasn’t what I expected. He was short and round, with thinning hair parted low on the left side and swooped over the considerable bald space on top. He wore a polyester plaid suit which showed signs of strain across the back, a string tie, and a large silver belt buckle you couldn’t miss from across the room. The shirt was maroon, but his eyes were small and protruding rather than shifty.
“The woman next to him is his wife, Gloria,” Susie continued. “She’s a peach, always has be
en. She and George don’t have children, so she kind of took a special interest in Eddie and me while we were growing up. She’s tried hard not to get embroiled in this controversy about the tavern. I know it’s upset her, especially coming when it did.”
“Coming when it did?”
Susie lowered her voice almost to a whisper. “Gloria has cancer. About fifteen years ago she had a hysterectomy. Then, five years ago she developed breast cancer. She went through all the treatment, and just when we thought she was home free, they discovered a lump in her other breast. Apparently it had progressed pretty far.” Susie glanced again at her aunt “Life isn’t fair. Gloria is one of the kindest people in the world.”
My gaze followed hers. I’ve often wondered how a person can carry on day after day with the specter of death grinning in the shadows. I’m not sure I would be able to pull it off, myself.
After a moment, George caught us staring. He made his way over to the archway where we were standing, greeting Susie with a cordial, one-arm hug. “You holding up okay, honey?” he asked.
Susie frowned slightly and twisted away, then apparently remembered her manners. “Yeah,” she said, her tone stiff. She introduced us, and we shook hands. George’s palm was soft and sweaty, but he pumped my arm like we were old friends. “Kali is a friend of Jannine’s,” Susie explained as we were exchanging condolences.
George’s expression shifted ever so slightly. “That so?”
Susie’s gaze was still directed across the room. She raised her arm and waved. “Finally, there’s Al. Gotta go.” She darted across the room and linked up with a ruddy-faced young man who could have been a stand-in for the Incredible Hulk.
George watched for a moment, then mumbled a “pleasure meeting you” and turned to go.
I scurried along beside him. “I’d like to talk to you a moment, if I could. About Eddie.”
“What about him?”
“He mentioned something to me before he died about needing a lawyer. I was hoping you might have some idea what it was about.”
George’s expression was unchanged, but the muscle in his cheek twitched. “I’m afraid I don’t.”
“I thought it might have something to do with the tavern buy-out.”
He shook his head. “Simpson was handling that.”
“I’m trying to help Jannine work through the financial tangles following Eddie’s death,” I explained. “Anything you could tell me about the business arrangements would help.”
The muscle jumped again. “The Mine Shaft is really not her concern. Eddie’s interest passed to his sister when he died.”
“I’m aware of that. But he’d come up with ten thousand to buy Susie’s share. Jannine can’t figure out where the money came from. I thought you might know.”
“Sorry. That wasn’t the kind of thing he’d have told me. As you must know, we were not on the best of terms over this.”
I nodded. There was an awkward silence.
“Seems to me Jannine’s got more important stuff to worry about anyway,” he said, not at all kindly.
It was his tone more than his words, but it got to me just the same. I set my eyes on his. “It must have been hard for you,” I said, “knowing you were going to have to take Eddie on as a partner when you didn’t want to.”
“We’d worked it out.”
“Really? Susie seemed to think you were pretty upset at the prospect.”
He smiled thinly. “Look, I don’t know what this is all about, but Eddie and I settled our differences last week. There’d been bad feelings all the way around, and I didn’t like it any better than he did. I’m set in my ways. I wasn’t any too excited about having a partner again, even someone I was as fond of as Eddie. But, well, sometimes young blood’s a good thing. He had some dam good ideas, really.”
“He must have been very persuasive.”
Another thin smile. “We kind of agreed to meet each other halfway.”
“But now you don’t have to.”
The smile turned sour. “What, exactly, is that supposed to mean?”
I shrugged. “You’ll end up as sole owner of the tavern, and for a good deal less than it would have cost you originally.”
George’s expression was hard to read. “With Eddie’s interest as well as her own, Susie will end up quite a bit better off than she would have originally. Under the terms of the partnership agreement, I could have bought her out for even less. Not, I must remind you, that this is any concern of yours.”
Before I had a chance to reply, his wife joined us. She was a frail, bird-like woman with skin so pale it looked almost paper white. Yet there was a graciousness to her manner that gave the impression of strength.
“Oh, here you are,” she said, taking her husband’s arm. “I lost track of where you’d gone to.” Then she turned to me and smiled warmly. “Hello, dear, I’m Gloria Marrero, Eddie’s aunt.”
“Kali O’Brien, a family friend.”
Nancy passed by just then and gave my arm a friendly brush. “I got side-tracked, but now I’m leaving for real. I’ll let you know what I hear about Cheryl Newcomb.”
I waved, then apologized to Gloria for the interruption.
She smiled again, reassuringly. “Funerals are such a mixed bag, anyway,” she said. “There you are feeling like shattered glass on the inside, and yet going on visiting and making plans and getting on with the business of life. But maybe that’s the purpose, don’t you think? A kind of transition process.” Her soft, round eyes looked into my own and then her husband’s. “What do you think, George?” she asked, tilting her head toward her husband.
He mumbled a vague agreement, then, with an icy glance in my direction, turned on his heel and left.
“Goodness, what got into him, I wonder? Of course, we’ve all been under such stress these last few days."
“I’m afraid it’s my fault,” I said. “I wanted to talk to him about Eddie and the tavern, but I did it rather badly.”
“He’ll get over it, dear. That business with the tavern is a sore spot anyway. I don’t understand why he fretted over this whole thing the way he did.”
“I understand you’ve just returned from a trip to Arizona,” I said, seeking a less awkward topic of conversation.
“Yes, my family has a place there. We’d only just arrived Sunday afternoon when we got the news about Eddie.”
“Sunday? Somehow I’d thought you left Saturday morning.”
“We had planned to, but then something came up. George thought I should go on ahead by myself, but of course I wouldn’t dream of going without him.”
So George hadn’t been out of town at the time of Eddie’s murder, after all. What’s more, he had both financial and personal motives for wanting Eddie out of the way.
I felt a sudden unsteadiness, as though I had a bubble at the back of my brain. I nodded politely, but I was plumb out of small talk.
Chapter 14
On the drive home, Jannine stared woodenly out the window at the passing countryside, her reserve of inner strength drained. After several miles of silence, she sighed, a thin, sharp-edged sound like that of an injured animal.
“I used to wonder how people got through something like this,” she said. “I’ve discovered you get through because you feel so dead inside nothing penetrates.” Her dark eyes looked at me. “Late at night, or in those odd, empty corners of the day, the pain is so great it takes my breath away, but sitting at the funeral today, I had to force myself to remember what it was all about.”
“That’s called coping,” I told her gently.
“And then talking with all those people afterwards ...” She drew in a breath. “There I was, holding up my end of the conversation, speaking Eddie’s name as easily as if we were at an ice cream social.” She paused, and snapped the clasp of her purse several times. “Everyone knows what the police think, too. I could see it in their eyes.”
“You handled it very well.”
“At least it’s over.”
The funeral part was over anyway. I was afraid the police part might have just begun.
“Have you come up with any new ideas?” I asked.
She looked at me, confused.
“About what might have been going on with Eddie.”
She shook her head. “No, I can’t even think about it. Every time I try, my mind just kind of freezes over.”
“What about the ten thousand?”
“The man at the bank said he’d call me when he knew something.”
“And your gun. Any new thoughts about that?” Another weary shake of her head.
There was a part of me, a big part actually, that wanted to comfort Jannine and tell her I understood. But there was another part of me that felt like giving her a good, hard shake. I drove in silence for a couple of minutes while my two selves reached a truce.
“How well do you know Eddie’s uncle George?” I asked finally, keeping my eyes on the road.
“Until Eddie’s dad died, we saw him and Gloria pretty regularly.”
“Eddie and George were close then?”
She gave a noncommittal little shrug. “Not really close, but they got along. Mostly we’d get together at family gatherings.”
“What about his sister?”
“Susie? About the same. You’d think we would have seen more of them since we were about the same age and all, but she and Eddie were never very close. Susie has a bit of chip on her shoulder, thinks Eddie got all the breaks. Her husband’s like that, too.” Jannine ran a finger across her forehead, kneading the crease between her eyes. “Why all the questions?”
“Both George and Susie profited from Eddie’s death.”
“Are you suggesting one of them killed him?”
“It’s possible.”
“Kali, you can’t be serious.”
“I can be. In fact, I am. Sometimes I think I’m more serious about this whole thing than you are.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It’s your neck, Jannine.” It was a nasty thing to say, especially under the circumstances, but I was hot and tired. My good angel had about run out of patience.
Shadow of Doubt (A Kali O'Brien legal mystery) Page 12
