by Raven Snow
Trish and Ben both gave her a nod. Mrs. Williamson only frowned. “Well, try to keep the gloomy details of this out of your paper, if you can help it.”
Ben shot his mother an unkind look. Rose shifted her weight and looked at the ground. Things were about to get awkward, and this didn’t really seem like the time or the place for it.
“This is private,” Rowen said quickly, in case that needed saying. “I mean, if it’s all right with you, we were thinking about writing some kind of memorial piece. I hope you don’t think we sensationalized anything about the story.”
Mrs. Williamson waved a hand like it was no huge deal. “I don’t blame you for anything,” she assured her. “You have to sell copies somehow, I imagine.”
“Mom,” Ben said, sounding annoyed. “They just published the facts. They even checked with me beforehand to make sure it was all right.”
“Then I’m disappointed you didn’t think to check with me,” said Mrs. Williamson.
“I think it’s good to have the story out there,” said Trish, cutting in on the conversation. Willard would have gotten a kick out of being in the news.”
“Julia Martinez didn’t ask for permission,” Ben pointed out. “You haven’t complained about her yet.”
Mrs. Williamson didn’t have anything to say about that. Instead, she turned to face the grave. The casket had already been lowered in. She gave a sigh. “I’m going to miss him,” she said sadly.
Everyone nodded in agreement, bowing their heads a little lower. It was only Trish who had something to say to that. “You probably should have spent more time with him when he was alive then,” she muttered.
Rowen and Rose exchanged looks, but neither of them said anything. What could you say without things getting horribly awkward? Even Ben looked uncertain. “Excuse me?” Mrs. Williamson turned on her sister, looking positively scandalized.
Trish shrugged. “You heard me,” she said. “It wasn’t like you ever had time for either of us. God only knows why he left you anything in his Will.”
Before Mrs. Williamson could reply, Ben steered Rowen and Rose away from the conversation, leading them off toward the other guests. Willard’s coworkers were still speaking with Aunt Nadine and Aunt Lydia. They made room in their little circle for them as they approached. Fortunately, it was difficult to hear Trish and Mrs. Williamson’s bickering over the rain.
“Shouldn’t you do something about that?” Rowen whispered to Ben, nodding back to his mother and aunt.
Ben shook his head. “No way,” he said. “I learned a long time ago to stay out of their arguments. If they want to do something like that on a day like today, that’s their business.”
Rowen wondered a bit at that. She had heard that things were tense between Mrs. Williamson and the rest of her extended family. She hadn’t imagined they were quite this tense. Rowen almost wanted to take a page from Aunt Lydia’s book, eavesdrop, and see if she could hear some more. At least Rose seemed glad to be away from the drama.
“So, how did you know Mr. Lydell?” asked one of the coworkers, an older, balding man with a nice smile.
“Oh, I didn’t really,” said Rowen, when she realized he was speaking to her. “I’m more a friend of the family…Well, a friend of Ben’s anyway.”
“She’s our niece,” said Lydia with a smile. She gave Rose a pat on the arm next. “And this one’s mine. She and Ben are a couple.” That earned Rose some odd looks. She looked nothing like her mother since she was adopted.
“You two worked with Mr. Lydell, I take it?” Rowen asked, trying to make small talk when everyone lapsed into silence.
The balding man nodded. “I’m Ted.” He motioned to the portly man on his left. “This is Jeff. We both worked in maintenance with Willard. He was a…He was a nice guy.”
Rowen noted the hesitation there. She also noted that neither of them seemed terribly saddened by the loss. Everyone handled death differently, but she got the distinct impression that they were only here to pay their respects because it seemed like the right thing to do. “Did you work with him for a long time?” she asked. That they had seemed like a safe guess.
“Oh, yeah,” said Jeff with a nod. “Years and years.”
Ted nodded in agreement. “I’ve been working in that store longer than just about anyone,” he said. “I still remember when he first got hired on.” He looked a bit wistful as he spoke of the past. “He was just a teenager then. Not sure he planned to turn the place into a career back then. Life has its ways, I guess. We can’t always choose the turns it takes.”
That was a bit depressing. Rowen was sure that he hadn’t meant it as depressing, but it really was after hearing how much Willard had hated his job from his own sister. “I run a paper,” said Rowen, assuming these men didn’t know about the Greensmiths or the Lainswich Inquirer. The department store they worked at was out of town, and Rowen didn’t recognize either of them. It stood to reason that they weren’t from Lainswich. “We’re not a big paper, but have a decent sized readership. We were planning on doing a piece about Willard.”
Ted and Jeff both smiled upon hearing that. Sounds nice,” said Jeff. “I bet Willard would have liked that. Fellow was always reading something or another.”
“I don’t suppose you would mind if I interviewed you?” she asked. “Not today obviously, but sometime in the near future. It would be a big help for the article. I’d drive out to you, of course. You wouldn’t have to waste your gas or anything.”
Ted nodded. “Sounds good to me,” he said. Jeff nodded in agreement as well, indicating they were both on board.
“Great. Mind if I get your numbers really quick? I’ll give you a call. We can set up a time that’ll be convenient.”
Rowen was still punching phone numbers into her contact list when Mrs. Williamson stormed over. She grabbed her son by the arm. “Come on,” she said. “We’re leaving.” It was hard to miss how flushed Mrs. Williamson was. She looked angry and more than a little shaken.
Rowen turned her head and looked for Trish. She had moved a little closer to the grave and was standing under a particularly leaky part of the awning. Not that she seemed to mind. Her black skirt and blouse were getting absolutely soaked, but she ignored all of these things. She just kept on staring at the open grave, her expression serious.
“I drove myself here,” Ben pointed out to his mother. He looked a little troubled by how shaken she seemed.
“The whole family is leaving,” said Mrs. Williamson, pointing out her other children. They were all bunched together and exchanging whispers. They seemed to be equally concerned with their mother. “We’re going out to eat,” Mrs. Williamson continued. “Come on.” She strode off toward the street without waiting for an answer. Her children all hurried after her. Only Ben remained. He took a deep breath.
“Should I come, too?” asked Rose. She sounded nervous. She was probably afraid he would say yes.
“To the cheerful funeral after party?” Ben forced a smile before leaning down and giving her a quick kiss. “Don’t worry about it. I’m glad you came. It really meant a lot to me. I wish you’d had a chance to know Willard better. I’m sure he would have liked you.” With that, he headed in the direction his mother had gone. “I’ll give you a call tonight,” he promised.
“Looks like everything he said about that sister of his was true,” Ted mumbled to Jeff after the family was out of earshot.
Jeff still shot Ted a dirty look. It was clear that he really didn’t think now was the time or the place for that sort of talk. He might even agree with Ted, but he wasn’t going to say it.
Aunt Lydia looked like she was going to add an opinion of her own. Fortunately, Nadine spoke up first. “She’s always been a character,” said Aunt Nadine, giving her sister a warning look that spoke volumes.
Ted nodded. “Well, I guess we should be getting out of here.” He smiled at the Greensmiths. “It was great meeting you all.”
They all said their goodbyes. Rowen wa
s ready to follow them and head to the cars, but Rose seemed to be rooted to the spot. “What’s up?” she asked.
Rose nodded in the direction of Trish. Willard’s sister had remained. Obviously, she hadn’t been invited to the Williamson’s dinner. She was still standing beneath the leak, staring at her brother’s grave. It was difficult to tell what she was thinking, but the look on her face was certainly not a happy one.
“Should we go talk to her?” asked Nadine, sounding a bit nervous about that idea.
“We should ask her if she wants to go out for a bite to eat,” Aunt Lydia replied.
“That seems weird,” Rowen said.
“No,” said Rose, which was a bit of a surprise. “I think that’s a nice idea.”
“Really?” Rowen couldn’t see how.
“Her family isn’t exactly here for her,” Rose pointed out. “Obviously, she’s in a lot of pain right now. She shouldn’t be alone.”
“She doesn’t know us,” Rowen pointed out.
“She doesn’t have to accept the invitation,” Rose said, rolling her eyes. “She should at least have a choice, though.”
Rowen had to give her that. If she was in Trish’s shoes, she supposed she would feel a lot better if someone at least offered. She accompanied Rose in approaching her while Lydia and Nadine went on to their cars.
“Excuse me?” Rose began. She offered Trish a smile when she looked up. “My family and I were wondering if you would like to have dinner with us.”
Trish raised her eyebrows. She looked at Rose and Rowen, giving them each an appraising sort of look. “Greensmiths, right?” she asked.
“Yes, ma’am,” said Rose. “Rose and Rowen. I’m dating your nephew.”
Trish chuckled. “I remember who you are,” she told Rose. “That’s a very kind offer. Thank you, but…” She trailed off. She stood there for several long moments, looking thoughtful. “Actually, that would be nice. I think I’ll take you up on that. Thank you.”
Rowen was surprised to hear that. Rose must have been too. She didn’t seem to know what to say for a moment there. “Have somewhere in mind?” she asked finally.
Trish shrugged. “I don’t really know the area anymore,” she said. “I’m not picky. Whatever’s good.”
Trish had driven herself to the funeral, so she followed the Greensmiths to the Italian place across from the Inquirer. It wasn’t the best restaurant in town, but it was the first that had come to mind. They all piled into their usual booth.
Rowen’s aunts didn’t seem at all bothered by having dinner with a stranger, and Trish seemed quite at ease herself. She couldn’t have been more different from Mrs. Williamson. She had a very relaxed aura about her, whereas Ben’s mother always seemed to be wound unbelievably tight. Her dark hair fell in loose waves around her bony shoulders. Her smile was a tired one. This seemed like a woman who had been through a lot. Granted, this could easily just be an off day for her. It wasn’t every day that you buried your own brother.
“So, that’s where you work?” Trish asked, nodding out the window and across the street, toward the Inquirer building.
“Yep,” said Rowen. “Two of our cousins are over there now.”
“The lights are off,” Rose pointed out. “I’m thinking they skipped out early.”
Rowen sighed and pulled out her phone to shoot Willow and Peony a strongly worded text. She wished everyone in the family had Rose’s work ethic. “Well, two of our cousins should be over there now.”
Trish chuckled at that. “Family,” she said gravely. “Am I right?”
“They work well together,” Nadine said, likely in defense of her daughters. “The newspaper they put out is just fantastic. They have a blog too. It’s very popular.”
“I’m not sure about that,” said Rose, looking down at the table with a sheepish smile. “Actually, we were thinking about doing a piece on your brother. We mentioned that, I think?”
Rowen nodded, remembering that she hadn’t really gotten to discuss the details with Trish yet. She hoped she was fine with it. Judging from the way Trish had smiled at the idea, she was. “His coworkers from the funeral seemed open to the idea of being interviewed for it.”
“I’d be happy to answer whatever questions you need me to,” offered Trish. “An article sounds like a lovely idea.”
“Mrs. Williamson wasn’t thrilled about it,” said Rose, thinking back. “We don’t want it to seem like we’re trying to exploit his death or anything.”
Trish shook her head. “It’s a lovely idea,” she said again. “Ignore my sister. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but she’s a terrible person.”
“We’ve noticed,” said Aunt Lydia.
Rose threw her mother a horrified look. “We have not,” she said quickly. She looked back at Trish. “I mean, she can be a pain, but—”
“She’s a terrible person,” Trish said again. She smiled, not looking terribly concerned with making everyone uncomfortable by stating that fact. “An article really is a nice idea. I don’t think it’s exploitative at all. If anything, it should draw some attention to the situation. I think I’d like that.” Trish’s expression grew suddenly serious. “I’m sure you’ve heard by now that the police suspect he was murdered.”
Rose looked over at Rowen who wasn’t sure what to say. Was this really appropriate post-funeral conversation? If Trish was bringing it up, she supposed it was fair game as a topic. “Ben mentioned it was murder,” Rowen said with a nod. “We wrote an article on that, too.”
“Really?” asked Trish. “I’d like to take a look at that.”
“I can pull it up on my phone,” Rose offered. “We published it on the blog as well.”
“That seems so crazy to me,” said Aunt Nadine, shaking her head.
Aunt Lydia nodded in agreement. “At a family gathering, no less. Do they have any suspects yet?”
Trish shook her head. “It had to be someone there, I suppose.”
Rowen was surprised to hear her say that. “That’s awfully strange, though. Isn’t it?” she asked. “I mean, that’s a really small pool of suspects. If someone wanted to murder Willard, why would they do something so risky?”
“I wouldn’t know,” said Trish, looking down at the table. Her voice wavered a bit as she spoke. Maybe this wasn’t safe to talk about after all.
“Ben will make sure they catch whoever did it,” Rose offered. “They may keep him off the official case, but he’ll be sure to keep an eye on it.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” muttered Trish. “He wouldn’t pin any of this on his mother, not in a million years. I bet you anything she’s the one behind all of this, too.”
Now things were getting really awkward. Rowen made a conscious decision not to ask any follow-up questions. As much as she wanted to hear incriminating evidence on Mrs. Williamson, now really was inappropriate timing. Trish sounded like she might be more than a little biased on the matter.
“So, the chicken alfredo is really good here,” Aunt Nadine said, raising her voice.
Things calmed down a bit after all of that. They changed the subject to much more mundane things. Aunt Lydia talked about Lainswich and how it must have changed since Trish was a girl. They bantered awhile about Odds and Ends and about Trish’s job at the deli a town over. The banter was nice and light. Even so, there was still a darker, extremely awkward undercurrent to it.
When they had finished eating, they led Trish out to her car. They all exchanged a few final pleasantries and went their separate ways, and Rowen made plans to meet with Trish later that week. She would see her when she went down to speak with Ted and Jeff. Might as well make the most out of the trip. Either way, Rowen had a sneaking suspicion that she was going to be seeing a whole lot more of this particular case.
Chapter Five
Terricville was the next town over. It was where Ted, Jeff, and Trish all lived. It was where Willard had lived. Overall, it was a decent place. It was a little more metropolitan than Lainsw
ich. The people there made a whole lot of jokes at Lainswich’s expense too. According to them, people from Lainswich were all a bunch of bumpkins—which was a laugh. It wasn’t like Terricville was that large of a city. All they could really claim was that they had a few more places to shop.
When Rowen went, she went with Eric. It wasn’t like he had anything better to do. He was spending a lot of his days at home lately. He’d just gotten back from a business trip, but it hadn’t taken as long as it normally did. With his brother trying to prove himself to the family again, there was less work for him. That was a good thing. Mostly. Rowen would never complain about it aloud, but she did find so much time with him a little tedious.
Eric got bored easily. He had spent most of his life working and jetting around the world. Now that he was a part time stay-at-home husband, well, he found it hard to keep busy. Rowen had mentioned the idea of him maybe picking up a hobby or starting some sort of project. Unfortunately, there wasn’t a whole lot he seemed interested in. Mostly he watched television, played with the dog, and complained that that was all he had to do.
