Twisted Paths (18 page)

“How long has she been up there like that?”  Margaret O’Reilly, Mary’s mother, asked as she came up behind Mary.

“Ma, you came,” Mary said, giving her a hug.

“Well of course we came,” she replied. “The child’s going to be my granddaughter. You think we wouldn’t be here?”

“We?” Mary asked.

“Your da is outside parking the car,” she said. “Sean, Art and Tommy will be arriving soon.”

“Thank you,” Mary said, her heart full.

Her mother kissed her on the cheek. “Now, introduce me to my granddaughter.”

They walked over to Clarissa and Bradley. “Margaret, you came,” Bradley said.

“We’re family,” she said, kissing Bradley on the cheek, and then she bent down and offered her hand to Clarissa. “How do you do, young lady?”

Clarissa looked up and smiled politely. “I’m fine, thank you,” she replied.

“Well, now, I don’t see how you can be fine on a day such as today,” Margaret said. “But I admire you for saying so.”

“Thank you,” Clarissa replied, wrinkling her nose in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, it’s a hard day for you,” she said. “And you’ve been through a lot during your young life. And if you wanted to not be fine.  And if you wanted to cry a little. That would be perfectly fine.”

“But I’m supposed to be a brave soldier,” Clarissa replied. “That’s what my mommy told me when my daddy died.”

“Ah, and your mother was a wise woman,” Margaret said. “Because she knew you would have to be strong to deal with the next months. But now, you’ve a new father and mother, who can be strong for you.  So, you can be sad if you’d like.”

Clarissa looked up at Bradley. “Can I?” she asked.

He squatted down next to her and gently pushed her hair away from her eyes. “Yes, you can,” he said. “It’s okay not to be strong today.”

“In Ireland, where I come from, when someone dies we tell stories about them,” Margaret said. “We laugh and we cry and then we laugh some more. We celebrate their life.”

Clarissa studied Margaret for a moment. “Who are you?” she finally asked.

Chuckling, Margaret gave Clarissa a quick hug. “Well, I’m your grandmother,” she said. “And that big man who’s coming our way is your grandfather. We’re Mary’s ma and da.”

“I have a grandmother and a grandfather now?” she asked, her voice filled with awe.

“Yes,” Margaret said. “And you have three uncles. They’re good for spoiling you.”

Margaret turned to Bradley. “Would it be proper for me to take this young lady to the side, so she can tell me a little about her lovely mother?” she asked.

“Sure. Yes. I suppose that would be fine,” he said, confused by her request.

Mary stood next to him and they watched Margaret and Timothy lead Clarissa to a small private area.

“Why did she want to do that?” Bradley asked Mary.

“Because she understands that in order to begin to grieve, you have to allow yourself to feel. You can’t always be brave, because then you just bottle up all the emotions,” she explained. “You have to give yourself permission to be sad.”

“She never got to be sad for Henry,” he said. “She never got to grieve.”

“Well, now, perhaps she can grieve for both of them,” Mary said.

She looked across the room and saw Clarissa sobbing inside Margaret’s embrace.

“It’s hard to see her crying,” Bradley said.

“But crying is the best thing for her,” Mary replied. “All of that emotion that’s bottled up inside can come out. Then the healing can begin.”

Bradley nodded. “I remember,” he said slowly. “Mike did that for me. He made me stop at the cemetery in Sycamore after I’d met with Jeannine’s parents. He made me talk about her and then I just started to cry. And once the tears started, I couldn’t stop them.”

“How did you feel?” she asked.

“Like a burden had been taken off my chest, like I didn’t always have to be strong,” he said and then he sighed deeply. “I have a lot to learn about being a good father.”

She turned to him and placed a gentle kiss on his lips. “You’re doing a fine job.”

Chapter Thirty-nine

Katie, Clifford and Maggie arrived at the funeral home about twenty minutes later.  Katie hurried over to Mary and Bradley as soon as she walked in the door. “I am so sorry we are late,” she said. “Clifford insisted on coming and he was delayed at work. How are things going?”

“Things are fine, Katie,” Bradley said. “Thanks for coming.”

“How’s Clarissa doing?” she asked.

Mary looked across the room to where Clarissa still sat with her parents, now chatting happily with them. “I think she’s doing fine,” Mary said. “And I think having Maggie here is going to do her a world of good.”

Maggie looked around the room and saw Clarissa. She hurried over to her, excited that this was her very first funeral.  She hadn’t been allowed to come when Clarissa’s daddy had died. “Clarissa, I’m here,” she said, as she approached her.

“Maggie, guess what,” Clarissa said, slipping off the chair she’d been sitting on. “I have lots of grandparents now. These ones are from Mary.”

“Grandparents are great,” Maggie said. “They let you get away with all kinds of stuff.”

Margaret chuckled. “We’ve heard about you, Maggie,” she said. “It sounds like you’ve been a great friend to Clarissa.”

“We’re best friends,” Maggie informed her.

“Well, that’s the best kind,” Margaret said.

“Do you want to see my mommy?” Clarissa asked.

“Is it okay to look at her?” Maggie asked. “Cause she’s dead.”

“Uh huh, everyone does it. It’s so you can say goodbye to her.”

“Okay,” Maggie said hesitantly. “I guess.”

Clarissa led Maggie across the room to Becca’s casket and the two little girls peered at the woman lying inside. “It kind of looks like your mom, but kinda not,” Maggie said.

“That’s ‘cause it’s not really my mom anymore,” Clarissa explained.

“Why not?”

Clarissa turned to Maggie. “My grandma told me that our bodies are like gloves and our spirits are like hands,” Clarissa explained. “When we’re born, our bodies slip over our spirits, just like gloves slip over hands.  And they move when we move and talk when we talk, just like gloves move when our hands move.  Then, when we die, we leave our bodies here on earth, like taking off a glove.  And our spirits get to go live with God.”

“That’s why your mommy looks like that,” Maggie said. “Cause the most part of her went to live with God.”

Clarissa nodded her head. “Uh-huh.”

“But don’t you miss her?”

“I miss her lots,” Clarissa said. “And it’s okay to be sad and miss her. But she and daddy Henry are in heaven watching over me.”

Mary came over and joined the girls. “How are you two doing?” she asked.

“Clarissa’s mommy and daddy are watching her from heaven now,” Maggie said.

Mary pictured the two standing over their daughter’s bed last night. “Yes, they are,” she agreed. “And they will always be watching over her.”

Steve Turner, the funeral director, crossed the room and spoke with Bradley and then came over to where Mary and the girls stood. “It’s time for the service,” he said. “Are you ready?”

Clarissa nodded and they all moved forward to take their seats at the front of the chapel.  Mary looked around the room and saw Ian stop and speak with Katie.  She was relieved he was keeping an eye on her. But her curiosity was peaked when she watched them leave the room together.

“Katie I wonder if I can speak with you for a moment?” Ian asked.

“Sure, Ian, what do you need?” she replied.

“I’m wondering what you know about hypnotism,” he said. “Have you ever been hypnotized before?”

 Chapter Forty

An hour later, Clarissa sat between Bradley and Mary in the main funeral car, following the hearse, as they headed to the cemetery. “How are you doing, sweetheart?” Bradley asked.

“I’m doing better,” she said. “I’m still sad, but it doesn’t hurt as much.”

“I know just what you mean,” he replied. “We’re going to have your mommy, Becca, buried next to your daddy.”

“But, really, they’re in heaven, right?”

“Exactly,” Mary said. “This is just the place where we put the gloves.”

“Exactly,” Clarissa repeated.

“The gloves?” Bradley asked.

Mary smiled at Clarissa and winked. “We’ll tell you all about it later,” she said.

The service at the graveside was short and soon Mary and Katie were following Clarissa and Maggie across the lawn to get back in the cars.  Mary was eager to find out what Ian and Katie had been discussing.

“Katie, I was wondering…,” Mary began.

“Ms. O’Reilly. Ms. O’Reilly,” Nick came rushing across the grounds towards them. “I really need to speak with you.”

“Nick? Nick Kazakos?” Katie asked. “I haven’t seen you for years.”

“Katie Mahoney?” Nick asked.

Katie nodded. “Well, I’m Katie Brennan now. How are you doing?”

“As well as can be expected when you live your life without the person who was supposed to be your soul mate,” he snapped back at her.

“Oh,” she said, confused by his anger. “I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah, well it’s nice that one of us can live happily ever after,” he said.

“I’m sorry,” Katie repeated. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Well, maybe you should have said something twenty years ago when Hope was looking for a friend,” he retorted. “Maybe if she’d had a friend, she wouldn’t have killed herself.”

Katie took a deep breath and shook her head. “If I had any idea,” she began. “If I could have done anything…”

“Yeah, easy to say now,” he interrupted.

Katie stepped back as if she’d been slapped.  “I’d better go,” she said. “Mary, I’ll meet you at the cars.”

Katie hurried away, following after the girls.

“That was not only rude, but it was stupid,” Mary said. “Katie would have been Hope’s friend if Hope had let her.  Hope assumed Katie was Faith’s friend and so she didn’t speak to Katie.”

“I don’t believe that,” he said. “And I don’t believe you.”

“What good would come from me lying to you?” Mary asked.

“Well, maybe you’re trying to save your friend’s life,” he said.

Mary caught him by the collar of his shirt and pushed him up against the nearest tree. “Are you telling me that you killed those other women?” she asked.

His eyes grew wide and his voice shook. “No, no, I didn’t mean that at all.”

“What did you mean?” she asked.

“I only meant that if people thought she wasn’t Faith’s friend, whoever was killing her friends wouldn’t kill Katie. That’s all.”

Mary loosened her hold. “I’m watching you, Nick,” she said. “Nothing had better happen to my friend or I’ll come looking for you.”

“You can’t do that,” he insisted. “You can’t threaten me like that.”

“Oh, I can’t?” she asked. “What are you going to do about it?”

“I’ll call the…,” he stopped as he watched Bradley hurry towards them.

“Mary, is everything okay here?” he asked.

“Nick, I’d like you to meet my fiancé, Chief of Police Bradley Alden,” she said pointedly. “You do understand my message now, don’t you?”

Nick nodded.

“Good, have a nice day, Nick,” Mary said, and then she slipped her arm around Bradley’s and let him escort her to the car.

“What was that all about?” he asked.

“Basic intimidation practice,” she said. “He’s on the short list of the people who’ve been killing off Faith Foley’s friends and I just wanted to let him know that Katie Brennan was off limits.”

Bradley stopped walking and looked back over his shoulder. “You think he killed those women?” he asked.

“Well, I don’t have any evidence,” she admitted. “I just didn’t want him to think that taking out Katie was going to be easy.”

“And what was the message you sent him?”

“I told him that if anything were to happen to Katie, I’d come looking for him,” she replied. “And then he told me that he’d call the police.”

Bradley chuckled softly. “And that’s when I walked in.”

She squeezed his arm. “Your timing was impeccable.”

“Yeah, but remember, I don’t know anything about this,” he said.

“About what?” she asked with a smile.

“Exactly.”

Chapter Forty-one

Nick watched them walk away, his anger building. He could tell they were laughing at him. Just who was she to tell him what to do?  She was nobody!  She was less than nobody! He’d show her. But what could he do?

“I don’t believe you,” he whispered. “I don’t believe you at all.”

He stormed back to the small apartment he kept over the maintenance garage. The room was sparsely furnished, mostly with odds and ends he picked up at garage sales or discarded pieces of furniture left by the curb for the garbage collectors. The only thing he spent his money on was his computer system.  His apartment had the fastest internet connection and he had been able to master the art of hacking in his spare time.

“I’ll find out who you really are,” he said, as he entered information into his search engine, punching the keys of his keyboard angrily.

“Mary O’Reilly,” he whispered, “what do you really do?”

An hour later, Nick pushed himself away from his computer and walked to the window that overlooked the cemetery.  He had never believed in ghosts. Never really thought much about what happened to someone once they died.

He looked over the grounds surrounding him.  The tombstones and monuments cast long shadows in the late afternoon sun and the fog was starting to develop once again. Were their ghosts down there?  Spirits who were restless because they still had unfinished business?

He jumped as a bird flew past his window.

He had never been spooked in his apartment before, until now.

He turned on a few more lights and grabbed a bag of chips from the pantry.  Then he sat back in front of his computer and reread the newspaper articles about Mary O’Reilly.  She was no researcher.  According to the information he’d read, she solved murder cases.  Why would she be interested in Hope? Hope wasn’t murdered, she committed…

His thought process froze.

Everyone thought Hope had killed herself. What if she hadn’t?  What if she’d been murdered?