by Dianne Emley
“Thanks. I’ll think about it.” While her knee-jerk reaction was to dismiss his offer, as she was happy where she was, she later found herself considering it.
When Kissick was driving Vining and Emily back to their Mount Washington home, Em summed it up with the inimitable wisdom of an adolescent: “That was weird.”
Later that night, Vining thought about the sigil she’d created and thrown into her desk drawer at the station. The intention she’d written was: Who is King Getty? Now, she knew.
FIFTY-TWO
So many people attended Tink’s funeral service at Church of the Angels’ stone-and-brick hilltop chapel that Father Bob Gaestel had to set up chairs on the lawn outside. Tink had touched many people during her life.
Kissick drove Vining and Emily to the gravesite in their car.
“Vicki told me that Tink’s two-million-dollar bequest to Georgia’s Girls is suspended until it can be determined whether the Berryhills were running a criminal enterprise,” Vining said.
“Did you read this about Georgia Berryhill?” Emily handed the brand-new issue of People magazine to her mother. On the cover was a photo of a somber Georgia beneath a headline that screamed: I MARRIED A MADMAN.
Vining scanned the article. “I can’t believe she got off with only a misdemeanor assault with a firearm charge and she claimed self-defense. Ninety days in county jail and I bet she slips out of that somehow.”
Kissick drove through the gates of the old San Gabriel Cemetery and parked. Vining and Emily walked to where Patsy was standing with the three remaining Ramona Girls, their arms around one another’s waists.
They separated when David Scarbray got out of a car and walked across the grass.
Patsy offered her hand.
He took it, pulling her close and kissing her cheek. “I wanted to pay my respects and offer my deepest condolences.”
He extended his hand to Granny. “Mrs. Brown, nice to see you looking so well.”
Granny mustered, “Thank you.”
Words escaped Vicki and Maria Alicia, who stared at him wide-eyed. They managed to mutter pleasantries as they shook his hand.
Scarbray and Kissick shook hands.
“Emily, I won’t tell you to be good because I know you know that already. You’re a fine young lady.” He gave her a hug. “I’ll be in touch soon.”
Vining didn’t offer her hand, but opened her arms and hugged him hard. He felt like something that she’d needed her whole life without really being aware of it. Now that she had what she’d been missing, she realized how deep that emptiness in her life had been.
Scarbray gave her a wet kiss on the cheek. “This is just good-bye for now.”
As they watched him get into his car and drive away, Patsy blotted tears and said to her concerned friends, “I’ll be okay.”
Vicki grabbed Patsy’s hand and Maria Alicia took Vicki’s.
Watching her mother with her girlfriends, Vining thought of Cheyenne and the desperate means she’d taken to speak for her friends Trendi and Fallon, who weren’t able to speak for themselves. She thought of the secrets and lies that can separate loved ones, and the truths and compassion that can bring them back together. That was the enduring power of family and friends, especially girlfriends.
Patsy held out her hand. Emily stepped forward and took it, bringing Granny with her. Vining extended the chain, taking Granny’s hand.
Vining didn’t feel quite complete. There was one more bond in her life. One more thing that was true. Without turning around, she held out her empty right hand. Kissick stepped up and laced his fingers in hers. She held on tightly.
Love Kills is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2010 by Emley and Co., LLC
All rights reserved.
Published in the United States by Ballantine Books, an imprint of The Random House Publishing Group, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.
BALLANTINE and colophon are registered trademarks of Random House, Inc.
eISBN: 978-0-345-51924-5
www.ballantinebooks.com
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