by Jackie Walsh
‘I’m worried, Jeff. Like, everything is wrong. What Mom said, Katie Collins, Stephen Black…’ My phone buzzes, it’s Bert.
* * *
Edith’s funeral is to take place at St. Brendan’s Church, tomorrow at ten a.m. Bert sounds shy as he asks if I’ll be there.
‘Of course I’ll be there, Bert. Do you need me to do anything for you?’
Turns out Edith’s sister Agnes arrived and took over. A whirlwind of organization. Bert said he didn’t care too much so long as it’s what Edith would have wanted. Flowers, lots of flowers, and a few psalms, her favorites, the ones she loved to sing along to.
He sounds defeated. I hope he’s okay.
When I finally hang up, I see Jeff is flicking through websites on his laptop.
‘What about Friday?’ he says. ‘We could go for the weekend.’
‘Go where?’
‘New Orleans.’
‘New Orleans?’
‘Algiers?’ he says.
‘Algiers?’
‘Where Katie Collins’ husband lives. Remember?’
How could I have forgotten? Of course I have to go to New Orleans, it’s my best chance, my only hope to get an answer. Turner is not letting up. She won’t tell me anything, just question after question. Well, now it’s my turn to ask the questions. Let’s hope Thomas Collins has the answers.
I’m wondering why Jeff is so interested in all of this. Maybe he just wants a trip to New Orleans, but with me? Really, Jeff, the woman who’s ‘not your type’?
‘You don’t have to come to New Orleans, Jeff. I can go on my own.’
‘I want to go, I’ve been meaning to go for a while now, catch up with Winters.’
‘Who’s Winters?’
‘A buddy of mine… Friday suit?’
‘Fuck, I have that stupid baby shower thing for Joanna.’
‘Well, when would suit you?’
I think about this for a while then suddenly remember I haven’t got any money. I don’t even have a spare dollar to buy Danny and Joanna a gift for the baby shower, never mind a trip to New Orleans.
‘Sorry, Jeff, I don’t have any money.’
I empty my bag out on the couch – lipsticks, ticket stubs, keys, a few coins, a few dollars. ‘That’s it, that all I got,’ I say, glancing quickly at Jeff before turning back to grab the stuff from the sofa and stuffing it back into my bag.
‘Who said anything about money? I don’t have much cash lying around either, but what I do have is this.’
‘What’s that?’
Jeff is waving a plastic card at me.
‘Air miles,’ he says. ‘My sister said I could use them as I please. In fact, she said they’d go out of date if I didn’t use them.’
First thing next week I’m going to New Orleans after funerals, baby showers and whatever else God decides to throw my way. If I’m going down, I want to know why. Jeff also got us a place to stay, with some friend of his who left college the same time he did, after the first semester. Hank Winters. He went to New Orleans, sang a few songs, and wound up buying a couple of dingy hotels in the French Quarter. Jeff was going to go in with Hank but discovered that babysitting his sister’s rabbits and playing the odd gig in the venues he liked to play suited him better. ‘One or two nights should do it,’ Jeff says, before ending his call to Hank. ‘If we’re going to be lucky, we’re going to be lucky.’
Chapter Twenty-Nine
The tall building looms in front of me, its spiral going all the way up to what looks like Rapunzel’s tower. Rapunzel, Rapunzel, forgive me my sins. I don’t like churches, not since the day the priest roared from the altar. He was bragging about some sort of miracle or prophecy when someone a few benches behind start laughing. The joy became contagious, infecting everyone around, until half the sinners were choking into their sleeves in an attempt to feign despair. The priest didn’t like it. He lifted his eyes and his voice, frightening all the younger members of his flock, including me.
I remember that day as if it was yesterday, Mom tightening her grip on my hand, trying her best not to laugh. It was a poor attempt on her behalf because tears rolled down her face into the lovely new pink lace gloves she’d been given for her birthday a couple of weeks earlier. Nervously I stood there, lips tightened, waiting for everyone who was laughing to disappear into thin air, banished by the Lord onto the devil’s radar. You fear like that when you’re only five years old.
‘Stop laughing Mom,’ I whispered. I didn’t think she heard me because she kept giggling, her shoulders shaking as she hid her face in her gloves. Standing up on the wooden pew, I leaned in close to her ear.
‘Stop laughing, Mom, or he’ll send you to hell.’
* * *
There’s no reason to laugh today. Edith is going home. Her coffin is moving up the aisle to the pleas of ‘Nearer, my God, to Thee.’ Bert walks behind, head bent, tears leaking from his frozen stare. Edith’s sister walks alongside, accompanied by an old man in an old suit and two younger guys. They must be Edith’s nephews.
A few neighbors are gathered in the pews, standing while the procession proceeds. In the distance, the priest stands waiting at the altar.
I glance around to see if Dad has shown up. I thought he might – the woman lived across the road from him since the beginning of time. Maybe he can’t face it, the preview, not able to stand here knowing his turn to walk up that aisle will arrive only too soon. Danny just flat out dismissed any possibility he might attend.
‘I’m too busy with work,’ he said.
Which left Joanna to appease me.
‘If I’m feeling okay I will pop down.’
I wanted them all to come, for as many people as possible to be here for Bert. But it looks like I’m the only Wall in the hall.
No I’m not, here she comes, well done, Joanna. Do not let that giant baby bump stop you praying for the happy repose of Edith’s soul. Joanna sees me and nods, letting the cortège pass by before slipping into the bench beside me. Her hair is tied back from her face, her makeup only lightly applied. Joanna’s smile is her best feature. She can beam as if a light comes on inside her head. And she’s always in control. If you need anything done, Joanna is the woman to call, even now, even pregnant.
Resting her hand on the back of the bench she lowers herself into the seat then leans in close to whisper, ‘the cops were at the house this morning.’
‘What? Why?’
‘They wanted to speak to Danny.’
‘Danny? Why Danny?’ The toast in my stomach changes direction. What brought the cops to Danny’s house?
‘I’ll fill you in later.’
Joanna lifts her head to pay attention to the ceremony. I can’t concentrate, not now. I tried to keep the saga away from the family but Turner is not letting up. Why is she dragging them into it? It’s nothing to do with them.
‘What did they say?’ I ask, unable to wait for the ceremony to end before I ask.
‘Shush,’ Joanna hisses, making it clear that she is not going to have this conversation now. I’m going to have to sit here, listening to the priest tell us that this is how it was meant to be, that Edith has returned to God.
The ceremony feels like it has gone on for hours and yet when I look at my watch I have only been here twenty minutes. Hurry up, Father. Eventually the coffin is carried out of the church and into the fresh air. Bert looks even older and more wizened than before.
‘Everything was lovely, Bert. Edith would be happy.’
‘I hope so, Becca. I still can’t believe she’s gone.’
I give him a hug and drift away to the side of the churchyard, where Joanna is waiting.
‘Tell me,’ I say, edgy with nerves.
‘They called to the house just as Danny was about to leave. I was upstairs and looked over the bannisters. I saw Danny lead them into the kitchen. I don’t know what was said, but when they left Danny was in a weird mood, and the cops were carrying a bag they didn’t have when they came in. Th
ey must have taken something of his away with them. I asked him what they wanted and he said they were just doing some house calls in the area, asking if anyone saw anything suspicious the night that girl Katie Collins was murdered. He ignored me when I asked what was in the bag.’
I say nothing, but I know Joanna doesn’t believe him.
‘I don’t know, though,’ she says. ‘I looked out the window when they were leaving and I didn’t see them call at any other house. And they didn’t ask to see me, either. Doesn’t seem right if they were calling house to house.’
Danny is going to go crazy at me, blame me for dragging these people into his life. But I need to talk to him, find out why they were looking for him, what they wanted to know.
‘I asked him what it was all about,’ Joanna says, ‘but he told me not to worry, it was nothing. And then he left.’
‘Where did he go?’
‘Work, I guess.’
Bert struggles to get into the hearse. I’m really not in the mood for going to the graveyard but I will have to, because Bert will notice if I’m not there. When the crowd disperses, Joanna heads home, asking me to let her know if I get any info out of Danny.
I say I will, but I know I won’t.
The sky is dull with grey clouds as the cortège moves out of the churchyard and on to the cemetery. I should be sad, thinking of Edith, but my mind is consumed with worrying about what the cops were doing at Danny’s. Were they asking him about me? Does he know I might be a suspect in the case? Or were they questioning Danny about his whereabouts on that Saturday night? I wonder what they took away in the bag.
In the car, the old lady I offered a lift to is wiping tears from her eyes. I put my hand on her shoulder and tell her Edith is in a better place, that she’s gone past her pain now. But these words mean nothing. I know that. Loss is loss, grief is grief. Knowing someone is in a better place does not stop you wanting them back.
Bert walks over when the ceremony ends, dark rings circling his eyes.
‘Thanks for coming, Becca. I know you’re busy, so it’s nice you took the time. Edith is grateful.’
‘I couldn’t have missed it, Bert. How are you?’
‘Okay, I guess. I’ll be better when this gang go home and leave me alone.’ Bert nods in the direction of Edith’s family, making me laugh. ‘I have to suffer them a while longer, they’re all coming back to the house.’
‘It’ll be all over soon, Bert. I’m sure they won’t stay long.’
‘I hope not,’ he says, turning to accept an old man’s condolences.
* * *
The world carries on as it did before; the sky blue, the trees green, the traffic a nightmare. Turning out of the graveyard I find myself stuck in a jam, cars beeping like they have the code to break the gridlock. Thinking about Danny and the cops’ visit is torturing me, making me fear all sorts of stuff. With one eye on the car in front, I take out my phone and dial his number. No answer. I dial again; again, no answer.
Where are you, Danny? Why won’t you talk to me?
Chapter Thirty
All the way home I tried to call Danny, but with no success. He’ll probably pretend he was in an important meeting and couldn’t be disturbed while he fixed some issue the world was having. But I know that’s not the case. We have a pact: phone calls must be answered no matter what, in case it’s about Mom. With no other option, I decide I’ll call to the house, later, when he’s home.
I spend the afternoon clearing out my apartment and moving my stuff into Jeff’s. It’s only temporary until I can get another job, then I’ll find another place, somewhere Stephen Black can’t find me. Thinking back on that morning, I cringe. I want to throw up. Jeff thinks I should tell Turner what happened, but I don’t want any more hassle at the moment. Turner thinks I’m crazy as it is. Which reminds me, I haven’t heard from her in a while. She’s obviously been too busy calling on my dad, and now Danny.
Closing Jeff’s door behind me, I walk down the corridor and pass my old apartment. Should I be sad? I’m not. If anything, I’m relieved I don’t have to go back in there, back to all those broken promises.
The screechy elevator takes me down to the lobby, where Lenny is snoozing behind the desk. He scrambles to his feet when I call his name.
‘Everything okay?’ he says.
‘Yes, everything is fine.’
‘Did you find out who was in your apartment?’
‘No, but I won’t be staying there anymore.’
The keys crash onto the counter when I let them drop. Lenny looks at me, mouth open like he’s expecting food.
‘But…’ He picks up the keys. ‘I’m not sure that’s how it works, Becca. I think you have to contact the leasing company,’
‘The leasing company didn’t care when I was broken into, Lenny,’ I lie, implying I notified them. ‘So they can do what they have to, but I’m out of there.’
Switching the keys from one hand to the other, Lenny looks at me, then back to the keys. I walk away, hoping he’ll buy it, that he’ll tell them I’m leaving because of the break-in. That way they might not hound me for the rent.
‘Where will you go?’ he says.
‘Not far.’
Lenny probably thinks I’m cool but my heart is thumping as I walk away. Out on the street I see Jeff, cradling brown bags in each arm. I’m nervous, wondering if I did the right thing. Will Jeff regret his act of kindness, want me out after a week? I might want out after a week. It makes no odds really, because no matter how much I question my decision I keep coming up with the same answer. No money, no choice.
Before Jeff sees me, I turn the opposite way. The next person I need to talk to is Danny. The wait is crucifying me. Red lines imprint my hand where I’ve gripped the phone all day waiting for the buzz that never came. I’m surprised, really. I thought he’d gloat over my latest disaster, take pleasure out of chastising me, counseling me. Shrinking my soul. I know he cares for me, a lot, he always has, but he can also make me feel like a piece of shit when he’s doing it.
Danny’s house is halfway down Ash Street, close to the local college with a Boston Donuts shop on the corner. Which is a waste; Danny never puts sugar in his mouth. If you look out the bedroom window at the back of his house, there’s a clear view of Treehill Park. Although not the spot where Katie Collins body was found, that was hidden in the forest, by the redundant bridge.
Knocking on Danny’s door I realize that that might be the reason why the cops called here. Maybe they called at all the houses that have a clear view of the park. But when Danny answers the door and I see the stress in his face, I reconsider.
‘Becca,’ he says, turning away without a smile or an invitation to come in. In fact, I think he sighs.
‘How are things?’ I say, following him into the back room where Joanna is sitting with her feet up on the sofa watching TV.
‘Becca,’ she says, smiling. ‘Did you go back to Bert’s house after the funeral?’
‘Yes, just for a short while,’ I say, watching as Danny attempts to leave the room. ‘Danny, I want to talk to you,’ I say, but he puts his phone to his ear, pretending he’s taking a call. Joanna pulls a face, warning me he’s not in a good mood, but I don’t care. I didn’t come all this way for nothing. So I follow him into the little office he built for himself off the hallway.
‘Danny,’ I say.
He turns around, too casually.
‘Danny, why were the cops looking for you?’
‘What cops?’
‘The cops who called this morning. Joanna told me.’
‘Oh, those guys.’ He picks up a sheet of paper off the desk, making out it’s entertaining him more than I am. ‘They were just doing house calls, wanting to know if anyone saw anything the night that young woman was killed.’ He puts the page down. ‘Anything else?’ he says. ‘How are you doing? All set for the baby shower, I hope.’
I’m not buying that. He’s brushing me off, trying to change the subject.
&n
bsp; ‘And did you see anything?’
‘Did I see anything where?’
‘In Treehill, in the park, the night the—’
‘Becca, stop. I saw nothing and told them so.’
Danny should be asking me why I’m so interested, why I came all the way out here to find out what the cops wanted.
‘Did they ask about me? And what did they take in the bag?’
‘What bag?’
‘Joanna said they took something away with them, was it something belonging to you?’
‘Why would they ask about you, Becca?’
The sound from the TV in the other room can no longer be heard. Joanna must have her ear to the wall. I’m anxious now. Danny is staring at me.
‘Why would they ask about you?’ he repeats, hands clenched, leaning on the desk, ignoring the question about what was in the bag.
Should I say I’m a suspect? I don’t know.
‘No reason,’ I say. ‘I was just wondering.’ Looking down at my feet, I can feel his eyes drilling holes in my head.
‘Becca.’
‘Yes?’ Lifting my head to look at him I sense fear – not mine, his. It’s like he doesn’t know whether to say what he’s about to say.
‘Becca,’ he says, moving out from behind the desk. He puts a hand on my shoulder. ‘Stay away from it, Becca.’
‘Stay away from what?’ I say, unable to decode his warning.
‘Katie Collins. Stay away from anything to do with her.’
Danny is pleading with me, telling me to leave it alone, to walk away. But why?
‘Why?’
Without answering, he walks out of the office. After a few minutes I realize he’s not coming back, so I follow.
Joanna comes into the hall and tries to defuse the atmosphere, expressing mixed feelings about the upcoming baby shower, telling me what she’s worried about, hoping she’s still here for it. Apparently the doctors told her she could go early. I see her lips move, her words fall on me, bursting into nothing when they land. What is Danny hiding?
