“Right.” I hoped I looked more enthusiastic than I sounded, and when I was afraid I didn’t, I settled for hoping Nick wouldn’t notice. “But someone did throw her off that balcony,” I reminded him. “If we could figure out who—”
This time, he patted my arm. “Aunt Marjorie was a big believer in law and order, and so am I. I have faith that the police will find the real murderer. Until then, all we can do is wait, and hold Marjorie in all our hearts.”
Actually, there was something else we could do. “Speaking of that . . .” I hoped I wasn’t stepping into something I couldn’t easily get out of, and braced myself in case Nick started babbling on about the long-gone president and I had to make a quick exit. “I was at Marjorie’s the other night, and she has all that memorabilia and—”
“Of course! Aunt Marjorie told us all about that commemoration she was in charge of for the cemetery, didn’t she, Bernadine?” His fiancée’s nod was a reflection of his. “I just told Mrs. Silverman . . .” He looked back to where Ella was chatting with the minister. “None of her collection means anything to me. I don’t want any of it, and we certainly don’t have room for it, do we, Bernadine? I’ll be liquidating every bit of it as soon as I’m able. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” The minister had turned toward his car and I knew Nick had to catch up with him so I backed off. Good thing I did, too, or I would have missed out on the most interesting thing that happened that day.
Well . . .
I remembered Jack, and now that the funeral service was over, I allowed myself a smile at the same time I corrected myself. This was the second most interesting thing that had happened that day.
Because just as I turned around, I saw Ray head toward his car.
And as soon as his back was turned, I watched as sweet, fluffy Doris kicked dirt on Marjorie’s grave.
Just for the record, one o’clock is a lousy time for a funeral. By the time it was over, it was too early to head for home, and too late to get much accomplished back at the office even if I was inclined to go over there. My wisest course of action seemed to be to head back to the memorial. After all, it was officially closed for the rest of the day, and that meant I could officially take my time, free of the gawkers, and try to get a line on my investigation.
I parked and walked around to the front of the building, and it wasn’t until then that I second-guessed my plan. But then, that’s when I noticed a movement in the huge rhododendron bushes over on my right. And that’s when I remembered the creepy guy with the baseball cap and the chilling gaze.
As if he was looking at me right then and there, I froze, watching the branches of the bush twitch. My heart in my throat and my knees already starting their morph into Silly Putty, I thought about how alone I was, and gauged the distance back to my car. I’d already taken a step in that direction when the rhododendron branches parted and Jack walked out.
He looked just as surprised to see me as I was to see him.
“I’ll bet this looks weird, doesn’t it?” He strolled up to me and poked a thumb over his shoulder and back toward the bush. “I wasn’t doing whatever you think I was doing.”
“Since I can’t imagine what you were doing . . .” Baffled, I shrugged. “What were you doing?”
His answer was simple enough. “Communing with President Garfield.”
I wasn’t sure if I should be relieved or worried. If Jack and I shared a Gift and he really was talking to the president, it would save me the trouble of maybe someday having to explain the whole I-see-dead-people thing to him. That being said . . .
I glanced around.
I didn’t see any sign of President Garfield.
Which meant maybe I should be worried that Jack was as weird as the weird guy who’d weirded me out earlier in the day.
Something told me Jack could read the cascade of worries and doubts that filled my head. He laughed. “Communing with the president. Up there,” he said, and because from where we stood I couldn’t see what he was talking about, he grabbed hold of my hand and gently pulled me to the side of the building. “I was trying to get a better look at the bas-relief sculptures.”
Bas-relief. It’s one of those terms I should have learned when I got my degree in art history. Since I didn’t, I had to learn it when I started taking visitors around the cemetery.
