Liquid Lies (24 page)

In the middle sat Estelle and Hazel, surrounded by dozens wearing white round buttons with SOS in red lettering. In front of them sat Doug, Francesca’s neighbor, and what I guessed was his family. He waved at me as we made eye contact. I waved back.

On the right was Ken with several of his peers from the hospital. I was glad he could take time off work to pay his respects to the mayor’s daughter, and my best friend. He nodded his head when I saw him. Lucas was there with many of our friends. I saw priests and nuns from Saint Francis School. I also noticed several of our fellow classmates. Many politicians were in attendance, as well as the news media.

Standing in the far right aisle, near the back door, was Jacob. He was one of dozens who had to stand because pews were at capacity. Apparently everyone in Round Lake was at the service.

Placing my handwritten notes on the podium, I held onto the outer edges to steady myself. I adjusted the microphone to mouth level. It made a squeak as I moved it. No matter how nervous and grief stricken, I was determined to give a proper eulogy.

Taking a deep breath, I began, “Francesca was like a ray of sunshine, her smile warming everyone she met. Her friends were plentiful, and the love she gave and received bountiful. Her passion for life, her zest for adventure and her stunning beauty were unsurpassed. She also had a great love of France, having spent the last four years there with her Aunt Vivian. In honor of her favorite French poet Victor Hugo, I will read “More Strong than Time.”

Since I have set my lips to your full cup, my sweet,

Since I my pallid face between your hands have laid,

Since I have known your soul, and all the bloom of it,

And all the perfume rare, now buried in the shade;

Since it was given to me to hear on happy while,

The words wherein your heart spoke all its mysteries,

Since I have seen you weep, and since I have seen you smile,

Your lips upon my lips, and your eyes upon my eyes;

Since I have known above my forehead glance and gleam,

A ray, a single ray, of your star, veiled always,

Since I have felt the fall, upon my lifetime's stream,

Of one rose petal plucked from the roses of your days;

I now am bold to say to the swift changing hours,

Pass, pass upon your way, for I grow never old,

Fleet to the dark abysm with all your fading flowers,

One rose that none may pluck, within my heart I hold.

Your flying wings may smite, but they can never spill

The cup fulfilled of love, from which my lips are wet;

My heart has far more fire than you can frost to chill,

My soul more love than you can make my soul forget.

“
Francesca and I met in Kindergarten. Her long hair was enchanting to me. She allowed me to put her silky golden locks in braids. Everything about Francesca was magical to me. She was the sister I never had. The sister I looked up to and would follow to the end of earth.”

“During grade school our desks butted up to each other. We passed notes under the desks and quite a few times the nuns intercepted them.”

The audience chuckled.

I continued, “Yet our punishments were no greater than washing desk tops, or raking leaves at the convent. Francesca had the knack to turn anything into an adventure, as we chatted and laughed through the chores. From kindergarten through twelfth grade, the nuns seemed to take a special notice of Francesca. Not only because they looked out for her after her mother passed, but also because I believe she was like a firefly to them. Flitting and floating and lighting up wherever she went. You couldn’t help but notice her,” I paused. Many in the attendance were nodding their head in agreement.

“She was, as we all know, captivating in every sense of the word. Many of you remember us together, and if I close my eyes I can still see it. All the summers we rode our bikes around Round Lake from the time the sun rose, until the golden glow of sunset.” I continued for the next several minutes, holding back my tears as the words flowed out.

When I finished, the mourners had sniffles and smiles.

Except for Robert McNally, who constantly looked at his cell phone.

Why wasn’t he grieving for his lover?

Everyone went across the street to the parish hall for a buffet dinner reception. When I got there, I greeted and talked to many friends and neighbors. It was a Catholic event, which meant that beer and wine were being served as well as the nonalcoholic choices of coffee, tea and soda. The old joke about Catholic priests’ drinking “Whenever you see four priests, there is always a fifth” rang true at the hall as well.

Estelle and Hazel cackled with a big group of their friends. The mayor and Vivian stood amongst a large group of mourners. The packed hall buzzed with chatter as people talked and mingled, elbow to elbow. The scent of food and perfume merged in the air.

After I had a glass of wine and a bite to eat, I noticed Robert McNally near the door. This was my chance to talk to him. I approached him. His back was turned to me. I said, “Excuse me Mr. McNally. I’m so sorry for your loss.”

He twisted around and looked me in the eye. “Francesca is everyone’s loss.”

“I agree. Yet you, more than anyone, have to be so upset,” I whispered.

“How so?” he asked.

“You know, because of your relationship and all.”

He looked around as if to see if anyone heard, then he leaned in and in a low voice said, “Watch yourself, young lady. I don’t know what you’re trying to imply.”

“I know Francesca was your mistress,” I replied.

With squinted eyes he said, “It’s none of your business.”

“See, I think it is. She was my best friend,” I said.

“She was trouble, and you’d best stay out of it,” he said as he seized my arm.

I pushed his hand away. “Trouble? What did you expect getting involved with your friend’s daughter?”

We wove past the crowd as he pulled me through the door exit to outside of the hall. “Now listen, you’re getting involved in something that’s none of your business.”

“It’s my business if I can track down her killer,” I said, my heart galloped. “Which could be you.” I just accused him. Talk about being in hostile territory.

“Killer?” he said in a low roar. “Are you out of your mind?”

“No. I have reason to believe that you could have wanted both Francesca and Mark dead,” I said.

“Mark who?” He asked.

“The mail boat captain.” I held back my tears. “My best friend.”

“That’s enough. We may have had an affair, but I am not a murderer,” he snarled. “Do you know that you just insulted your fiancé’s boss?”

“No. I mean we’re not together anymore,” I said.

An older man approached us and greeted McNally.

“I’m going to consider this discussion closed for good. I strongly suggest you do the same,” he said as exited with the older man.

I sucked at finding justice for Francesca and Mark. If McNally was telling the truth, then I had to find another suspect. I headed back into the hall and Vivian and the mayor approached me.

“I’m afraid Vivian has had too much to drink,” the mayor said as he held her up.

She swayed, her eyelids were almost closed. “It’s all my fault. I should have protected her. She needed me and I wasn’t there for her,” Vivian slurred.

“Is there something I can do?” I asked as I took hold of Vivian's arm.

“Yes, you could help me get her into the cab,” the mayor said. A cab was waiting right outside the hall. We gently deposited Vivian into the cab. She sobbed, still repeating, “It’s all my fault, I should have protected her.”

The mayor gave the cabbie a handful of money with specific instructions to ensure that she got safely to her room at the bed & breakfast.

I watched the taillights of the cab recede into the darkness. I asked the mayor, “How could Francesca’s death be her fault?”

“She had too much to drink and she’s grieving,” the mayor said. “Listen, keep this between us. I don’t want the police hearing about what she said in her drunken state, okay?”

“Oh. Right. I understand. It was the booze and grief. Got it,” I said. “Obviously, Vivian had nothing to do with Francesca’s death.”

He placed his hand on my shoulder and looked me in the eye, “Thank you.”

Then a tall man handed the mayor a drink and then ushered him back into the hall.

I remained outside for a moment. The night was cool, the leaves rustled in the wind. Stars sparkled in the sky and the low murmur of people in the hall drifted outside. I took a deep breath and I could smell the lake. I loved that earthy tang.

Why hadn’t I found the killer? Maybe Jacob had better luck. I went back into the parish hall and found him.

“Any luck?” Jacob asked me.

“No. How about you?” I asked.

“Yeah, I’m very lucky. I found you.” He winked.

“But I’m not the killer we’re looking for,” I said. Jacob was such a nice guy. How could I have ever thought he was a killer?

“But you’re killing me,” he said as he pulled me into a hug.

“Focus.” I smiled for the first time that night. I told him about the conversation with McNally. As instructed by the mayor I mentioned nothing about Vivian’s drunken rant.

“He may be telling the truth. If he is, who’s your next suspect?” He asked.

It had to be the blackmailer, but I still didn’t feel I could tell Jacob. I said, “I’m not sure.”

“It’s wrapping up here. Do you want to come over to my place?” he asked as he kissed my neck.

“I’m exhausted. I don’t know if I’ll be good company.” I kissed him back.

“We don’t have to talk.” He reached for my hand as we left for his house.

***

“I know what I have to do to solve the murders,” I said as I leaned on my elbow on a pillow. It was six a.m. and my mind was already racing.

“Well, good morning to you too sunshine,” Jacob said, his hair falling into his eyes. “I know what you have to do now.”

“What’s that?” I said as I pushed the hair from his eyes.

“Let me get your mind off of killers and onto something much more pleasant.” Jacob began to kiss my neck and slowly worked his way down.

“Killers what killers?” I said before I completely lost myself in his gentle caresses.

***

It was after eight a.m. when I finally left Jacob’s and got back to Estelle’s house, grabbed a shower, walked Skipper and had breakfast. Estelle had left me a note on the kitchen counter, saying she had a breakfast meeting with Hazel to refortify SOS.

As usual, her note had a lot of x’s and o’s as her sign off. She’d included a P.S: “I’m guessing you’re with the cute carpenter.” She made my heart smile. So did Jacob.

Estelle and Hazel were determined to save their homes. But deep in my heart I felt that whatever they did wouldn’t make a difference. It seemed that big business with huge financial backing always won and it didn’t matter who got stomped on. Estelle and her neighbors’ houses were just stepping stones on the hospital’s way up. But as much as I wanted to help them, I felt that I had to focus on a much more crucial issue. Finding the culprit.

Unfortunately, I didn’t feel any closer to finding the killer who had taken the lives of my two best friends. Therefore, he could continue to end innocent people’s lives.

Robert McNally may still be guilty. But could it be someone else?

Maybe I had to go back to the night at H&K’s and find out where people were between nine thirty and eleven thirty the night Francesca was killed. Other questions surfaced from that night: Who was she going to meet up with when she left me?

In order to be successful in solving this case, I had to remove my emotion and concentrate on facts. I never had a chance to talk to the mayor about why he was at the funeral home the night Mark was killed. Maybe he saw someone or something that could give a clue as to who it was that killed Mark. It wasn’t appropriate to approach him at last night’s memorial service. Maybe today would be a better time to talk to the mayor.

In two days I needed to present Mark’s eulogy. It seemed like it would be easier to run away and hide from all the pain. But, as Vivian said, one breath at a time. I shoved my sorrow into a small corner so that I could function. Yet sorrow and grief crept out, peeking their heads around the corner, demanding I pay attention. My heart was so full of sadness that it seeped into every cell.

As much as I had gone through the motions of living since the murders, death seemed to be like a shadow. It followed me everywhere. Occasionally I hid from it, while I tried to get up every day and get on with my life.

Death and life walked hand in hand throughout my days.