بخش 04 - فصل 03

3 It’s better this time because they know each other a little. Anxiety has been replaced by eagerness. When the lovemaking is done, she slips

into one of his shirts (it’s so big her breasts disappear completely and the tails hang down to the backs of her knees) and explores his small house. He trails her a bit anxiously. She renders her verdict after they’ve returned to the bedroom. “Not bad for a bachelor pad. No dirty dishes in the sink, no hair in the bathtub, no porn videos on top

of the TV. I even spied a green vegetable or two in the crisper, which earns you bonus points.” She’s filched two cans of beer from the fridge and touches hers to his. “I never expected to be here with another woman,” Hodges says. “Except maybe for my daughter. We talk on the phone and email, but Allie

hasn’t actually visited in a couple of years.” “Did she take your ex’s side in the divorce?” “I suppose she did.” Hodges has never thought about it in exactly those terms. “If so, she was probably right to.” “You might be too hard on yourself.” Hodges sips his beer. It tastes pretty good. As he sips

again, a thought occurs to him. “Does Aunt Charlotte have this number, Janey?” “No way. That’s not the reason I wanted to come here instead of going back to the condo, but I’d be a liar if I said it never crossed my mind.” She looks at him gravely. “Will you come to the memorial service on Wednesday? Say you will. Please. I need a friend.”

“Of course. I’ll be at the

viewing on Tuesday as well.”

She looks surprised, but

happily so. “That seems above

and beyond.”

Not to Hodges, it doesn’t.

He’s in full investigative mode

now, and attending the funeral

of someone involved in a

murder

case–even

peripherally–is

standard

police procedure. He doesn’t

really believe Mr. Mercedes will turn up at either the viewing or the service on Wednesday, but it’s not out of the question. Hodges hasn’t seen today’s paper, but some alert reporter might well have linked Mrs. Wharton and Olivia Trelawney, the daughter who committed suicide after her car was used as a murder weapon. Such a connection is

hardly news, but you could say the same about Lindsay Lohan’s adventures with drugs and alcohol. Hodges thinks there might at least have been a sidebar. “I want to be there,” he says. “What’s the deal with the ashes?” “The mortician called them the cremains,” she says, and wrinkles her nose the way she

does when she mocks his yeah. “Is that gross or what? It sounds like something you’d pour in your coffee. On the upside, I’m pretty sure I won’t have to fight Aunt Charlotte or Uncle Henry for them.” “No, you won’t have to do that. Is there going to be a reception?” Janey sighs. “Auntie C insists. So the service at ten,

followed by a luncheon at the house in Sugar Heights. While we’re eating catered sandwiches and telling our favorite Elizabeth Wharton stories, the funeral home people will take care of the cremation. I’ll decide what to do with the ashes after the three of them leave on Thursday. They’ll never even have to look at the urn.”

“That’s a good idea.” “Thanks, but I dread the luncheon. Not Mrs. Greene and the rest of Mom’s few old friends, but them. If Aunt Charlotte freaks, Holly’s apt to have a meltdown. You’ll come to lunch, too, won’t you?” “If you let me reach inside that shirt you’re wearing, I’ll do anything you want.”

“In that case, let me help you with the buttons.”