Mieka appeared with a tray of juice boxes. “Madeleine is too modest to point out that her forte is reading. Keith, your older grandniece is already reading chapter books.”
“I’m impressed,” Keith said. “With both the monkey bars and the chapter books. They’re great kids, Mieka.”
“I have lots of help,” my daughter said. “Of course, I also have Zack to deal with. Mum, do you know what he sent the girls this morning?”
“Let me tell,” Lena said, her dark eyes growing large. “A bunch of candy.”
“The idea is it’s like a bouquet of flowers,” Madeleine said. “Except instead of flowers it’s all lollipops. It’s really pretty. Of course, Lena wanted to eat it.”
I put my arm around Madeleine’s shoulder. “And you want to keep it the way it is forever.”
Madeleine put a last piece of Lego on her corral. “Not forever,” she said. “Just for a long time.”
Lena was facing the door. Suddenly, she leapt up with such force she almost knocked the little table flying. “Here’s Zack.”
Madeleine was off too.
Keith watched as the girls reached out to my husband. “I wish I’d thought to bring a candy bouquet,” he said, and his tone was wistful.
Mieka grimaced. “Well, I don’t. One overindulgent male in their lives is enough.”
“Still, it would be nice to get the kind of greeting Zack’s getting.”
“The girls spend a lot of time with Zack and Mum. Why don’t you come over to the house tomorrow night for supper? Get to know the kids better.”
“I’d like that,” Keith said.
At that moment, Zack joined us, and as always when he came into a group, the dynamic changed. He was the least egotistical of men, but his charm was potent.
“It’s the candy man,” I said.
“Don’t be dismissive. It took me an hour on the Internet to chase that thing down.”
“My hero.” I said. I went over and kissed him.
He drew me close. “Thanks for the kiss,” he said. “Everything okay now?”
“It will be,” I said.
“Good,” he said. He extended his hand to Keith. “Zack Shreve,” he said. “And, of course, I recognize you. It’s good to finally meet you.”
Mieka turned to me. “Mum, I could use a little help with crowd control while Ginny’s people set up their cameras. Why don’t we let these two get acquainted?”
It was pleasant to be in a room bright with the colours of a crayon box, listening to the sounds of kids laughing while the rain pounded down outside. Mieka served sandwiches and juice and cookies; the shoot went well. Even Milo O’Brien seemed to relax. When I walked by he had a piece of broccoli in his hand.
“Is that what I think it is?” I said.
He laughed. “You know, it’s not half bad.”
The questions from the young mothers and a few fathers were centred naturally enough on family, and Ginny talked consistently about family values in a way that made that hackneyed shibboleth of the right sound like something other than a code for exclusion of all but the few. I had never really listened to her before, and she was impressive. I was beginning to see Keith’s point. Whenever I glanced their way, Keith and Zack seemed to be enjoying each other’s company. As Sean said, all was well.
I was picking up empty sandwich plates when my husband beckoned me over. “Keith, I know this is rude, but there’s something I have to talk to Jo about.”
“Not a problem,” Keith said. “I should go and check in with Ginny anyway. I enjoyed our talk.”
“So did I. Come over to the house for a drink before you leave town. We can continue our discussion about the Jays’ amazing ability to self-destruct.”
Keith smiled. “A topic with infinite possibilities. I’ll be there.”
I sat in the chair Keith had vacated. “So what’s up?”
Zack leaned close and lowered his voice. “Blake just called. He wanted to let me know that, against my advice, he’s going to Cristal’s funeral.”
I closed my eyes. “I am so tired of Cristal Avilia.”
“Well, she’s incinerated and in an urn at the funeral home, so I can’t see her posing a threat for much longer.”
“Now you’re angry,” I said.
“You bet I am. Cristal’s dead. You and I are alive – seemingly to fight another day. But this is neither the time nor the place for us to duke it out. I just wanted you to know that I’m going to the funeral with Blake.”
“Why? Blake’s an adult. He doesn’t need a chaperone. If he wants to be there, he should be there.”
“Jo, we should probably try to keep our voices down. People are staring at us. I wouldn’t give a shit except this is Mieka’s party and I don’t want to wreck it. And, to answer your question, Blake should not be at the funeral. There’ll be cops there. They still haven’t found Cristal’s killer, and they entertain the not wholly unfounded belief that murderers go to the funerals of their victims.”
“Blake was in love with Cristal,” I said. “He wouldn’t have killed her.”
“People kill people they love every day of the year, Jo. Blake doesn’t have an alibi. The police haven’t nosed around, because they have no reason to connect him with Cristal, but if he shows up, they’ll start wondering why. And Blake is in no shape to deal with a cop who decides to come down hard on him.”
“So you’re going to go to the funeral with him.”
“Right. If I’m there, the focus will shift. Debbie knows I had a connection to Cristal, and she knows I didn’t kill her. Blake could just be there as my friend.”
“That’s not good enough,” I said.
“You’re probably right, but I’m out of options. I’m also a little tired, so unless you pull a Margot and throw tacks under my wheelchair, I’m out of here.”
I stood up. “I’ll come with you,” I said.
“Suit yourself,” Zack said. “The funeral is at Speers at two.”
“Half an hour.”
“Plenty of time. I guarantee parking won’t be a problem. I don’t imagine many of Cristal’s intimates will want to run the gauntlet.”
“I guess funerals aren’t part of their fantasies,” I said.
Zack looked at me hard. Then he turned his wheelchair and began his careful passage through the kids and the blocks, past the pink plastic castle and the fort with the drawbridge till he came to the door that opened out into the real world.
CHAPTER 8
Zack had arranged to drive to the funeral with Blake, so I went alone. As my husband had predicted, parking wasn’t a problem, but I chose a place two blocks away because I needed a walk to cool down.
There were no mourners in sight, and when I opened the door to Speers, six people in the solemn garb of funeral-home employees leapt to attention. Obeying a choreography as perfectly executed as the movements in a kabuki dance, one of the employees took my umbrella, a second led me to the memorial book where a third opened a page, still blank, and handed me a pen. When I had written my name, a young man with a crewcut so short that his scalp peeked pinkly through, placed two fingers under my elbow, waited as another employee handed me a funeral program, then guided me past the gleaming empty pews to a seat in the second row behind the only other mourner in the room.
If I’d been quick, I would have said that my husband, who would be joining me, was in a wheelchair and that we’d be more comfortable sitting at the back, but the tensions of the morning had beaten me down. I sat where I was told to sit. When I murmured my thanks to the usher, the young woman ahead of me turned to stare.
Surprisingly, she giggled. “I might as well sit next to you, right? Or maybe you could sit next to me?” Her eyes
