wheeled in after her and winked. A church elder accosted him, lamenting the pinched building fund.
Carmen grabbed my arm. “How’s Mark?”
“How would I know?” I said warily. Somehow, I had irritated Carmen. Again. I decided to try an evasive maneuver. “You know the detective handling Olivia’s case turns out to be your old boyfriend Ricky Mains.”
That got her attention. “Ricky? Really? Does he still have that awful laugh?” Carmen shuddered.
“Yeah, he does. Anyway—”
“I haven’t seen him in a couple of years. How does he look? Did he get fat or anything?”
Nicholas squinted at his mother.
“No, he’s neither fat nor deformed,” I said.
Carmen looked disappointed. “He was my last boyfriend before Chip.”
“I remember.”
Carmen looked down at her stomach and sighed. “He had nice hair, really dark and smooth. Is he balding?” She sounded hopeful.
“Nope.” Church members turned their heads. I glanced around the room. “I think you’re right; we have good reason to worry about Mark. Your old boyfriend told me that there were bruises on Olivia’s back. Looks like she was pushed into the fountain.”
Carmen gasped. “I thought it was an accident.”
“It doesn’t look that way anymore.”
The room thinned as churchgoers snatched the last of the donuts. I watched the donuts disappear with deep-seated remorse. One was never enough.
Carmen held a protective hand to her belly. “Do you think—could Mark have anything to do with . . .”
I looked directly into my sister’s eyes in surprise. “Do you think so?”
She bit her lip.
Nicholas tugged on his mother’s skirt. “Dad says it’s time to go. The baseball game is about to start.”
Carmen’s brow smoothed. “Okay, tell Daddy I’ll be there in a minute.”
Nicholas wove through the remaining parishioners.
“Mark wouldn’t hurt anyone, Carmen. You know that. He can’t kill a honeybee.”
“I know. You’re right.” She paused. “But he was behaving strangely yesterday.”
“Give the guy a break. He just found out that Olivia was getting married and had been seriously hurt within the space of a few hours. Carmen, I know that Mark didn’t do it. And if you don’t know the same, you don’t know your brother.”
The kitchen ladies, cleaning up the last of the donut crumbs, glanced at us in surprise, their ears on high alert.
“Keep your voice down.” Carmen said. “What does Ricky think about all this? Did you ask him?”
“Carmen, would you forget about Ricky Mains?”
Carmen had the decency to flush. “Chip and Nicholas are waiting.” She fled the room.
I turned my back to the kitchen ladies and took three deep breaths. My parents chatted with a young couple. I rudely interrupted and asked Dad if I could talk to him for a minute. Happy for the chance to escape his pastor’s husband obligations, he followed me into the hallway.
Without preamble, I asked, “Where’s Mark?”
“Mark went back to his apartment last night. He needed space. He’ll be fine, India. And so will Olivia. Don’t fret.”
My father was so certain.
After church, I dropped Ina at a chain restaurant with a group of blue-haired church ladies for Sunday brunch before heading home. When I saw Mains’s dark sedan parked obstinately in front of the duplex, I knew it wasn’t good news.
Chapter Twelve
Mains stepped out of the automobile when I slammed my car door. Without salutation, I marched across the lawn. He leaned against the passenger side door and waited.
I kicked the right rear tire of his car lightly. “Nice car.”
Mains was subdued. “I’d like to speak with you for a few minutes, Miss Hayes.”
“I really don’t think I have time today, Detective Mains, but thank you for asking.”
“It’s important.”
“No doubt,” I said. I stumbled over one of Ina’s leprechauns as I made my way toward the duplex.
“Olivia Blocken is dead.”
I whipped around. His statement had sucked out a piece of my lungs, leaving a gaping hole in its place.
“She died earlier this morning. She never woke up from the surgery. She was brain-dead before the end of the operation. Her family decided to remove life support.”
I forced my brain to process his words. Dead? Brain-dead? Life support? His lips continued to move, but the sound didn’t reach my ears. My breath shortened.
“I think we should go inside to discuss this,” Mains said.
“We will not go inside. I don’t want you in my house again.” I managed to lower my volume by a half decibel. “Now, tell me why I wasn’t told of Olivia’s condition yesterday. You were here, why didn’t you tell me then?”
Mains removed his mirrored sunglasses and placed them in his shirt pocket. “I wasn’t aware of it until after I saw you.” He held up his palm. “And—”
“They didn’t want me to know, did they?”
He nodded.
As I suspected, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. The hole in my chest grew larger and threatened to swallow me piece by piece. It would start with the heart and work outward. Suddenly, all the anger I projected onto Mains dissipated into the white-hot atmosphere, and I was exceptionally tired. I bumped into yet another leprechaun, and it fell face down in the grass. My lack of sleep was catching up to me. Mains held up his arm, as if to catch me. I wouldn’t allow it and waved him away.
“Is there anything I can do for you, Miss Hayes?” His cop-look was gone, replaced with an expression of concern.
“You can stop calling me Miss Hayes,” I muttered as I bent down, ostensibly to right the leprechaun, but really to hide my face.
“I can do that, India.”
I nodded, then turned and walked toward the house.
Mains moved from the sedan and followed me. “I’m sorry. I have to ask one more thing.”
I stopped but didn’t turn around. The grass needed mowing and impatiens watering.
“Do you know where your brother is?”
I forgot the lawn and garden. I turned to face him. “He doesn’t know?”
He removed his sunglasses from his shirt pocket and restored them over his eyes. “He knows, I’m afraid. Mrs. Blocken called his apartment about nine-thirty this morning and told him the news.”
That jolted me. “Oh, no.”
Mains nodded.
Looking up the quiet street, I rubbed my eyes with the heels of my palms, pushing my glasses far up into my hair. The frames scratched my forehead. “Have you spoken to him since then?”
“That’s the problem. We can’t find him. He wasn’t at his apartment or his office at Martin. We tried your parents’ house as well. Is there anywhere else he might have gone?”
The anger that abandoned me earlier reignited. “Do you want to know so you can help him or to arrest him?”
Mains’s expression altered from concern to frustration. “No one is arresting anyone. Yet.”
“I have no idea where he is.”
