next to the phone. He laughed. “I haven’t cried. Do you think that’s wrong?”
I folded and unfolded my hands in my lap. “We are all still in shock.” After a pause, “Have arrangements been made for the funeral?”
He laughed, hollow and short. “My wife’s taking care of all of that, just like the wedding. I don’t know anything about it. I only know the place and time.”
“And what is that?”
“Tomorrow. Afternoon. At the Lutheran church. It should be quite a production. Regina will get her event of the season after all.” His tone was bitter. “Everything will be picture perfect for the funeral and the wake afterwards. She was nearly hysterical this morning because she couldn’t find the engagement picture that she’d ordered.”
My pulse quickened. “Engagement picture?” My voice sounded impossibly high. I hoped that Dr. Blocken would not notice.
“A framed copy of Olivia and Kirk that she’d planned to put by the guest book at their wedding reception. She wanted to report it missing to the police, even though I said it was nonsense to bother them with things like that. Of course, things will be misplaced at a time like this.”
“The police?” My heart skipped a beat.
“She’s convinced the missing picture has something to do with Olivia’s death. She thinks everything has something to do with . . . the murder.” He clutched the pen tightly in his hands as if brandishing a knife.
“Maybe Kirk has it,” I said, hoping to throw suspicion somewhere else. In my mind, I apologized to Kirk.
“Kirk? Regina already asked him. He denies taking it.”
“When did Mrs. Blocken talk to him about it?”
“Yesterday. Our meeting was not a pleasant experience. Olivia never picked a man worth his salt.”
I ignored the implied slur against my brother, knowing that he hadn’t been thinking about Mark—at least not at that moment.
“Kirk’s successful,” I excused. “He owns a pretty successful business.”
“Don’t defend him. If he was so wonderful, he wouldn’t be causing problems over where Olivia’s buried. She wasn’t married yet; it’s our right to decide what she’d want.”
There was no way to ease into my next question, so I just asked. “What about Olivia’s car?”
He blinked at me. “Why would we bury her car?”
“No, I mean, didn’t she have some type of car to get around Stripling while she was here?”
“Why do you want to know that?”
“I’m wondering how she planned to get around town while she was here. I’m sure there were a lot of last-minute errands for the wedding.”
“She and Kirk flew from Virginia, and we picked them up at the airport. She could’ve borrowed one of our cars if she needed one.”
“Do you know where Kirk is staying?”
“The Cookery Inn. I’m sure it’s costing me a fortune.”
I wasn’t surprised that Kirk was staying at the Cookery. It was the best hotel in Stripling and not far from the square and the Lutheran church where the wedding was to have been held. It was also the place where Mrs. Blocken had been planning to hold Olivia’s lavish reception.
Dr. Blocken’s eyes narrowed. “Why? Are you looking for him?”
“I just wanted to give him my condolences. I’m sure he must be devastated.”
Dr. Blocken snorted. “I hope you didn’t come here to petition on his behalf.”
“I didn’t.”
“Good. In fact, I’m glad you came here. You’re the only one who can convince Mark to turn himself in. You have to do that, and if your friendship with Olivia meant anything to you, you will. You can spare all of us, my family and yours, the grief of a long, drawn-out trial.”
I bit the inside of my lip, thwarting a smart-mouthed retort. “Dr. Blocken, I know that my brother is innocent. He never would have hurt Olivia.”
“I was afraid you’d say that. I was hoping that you’d listen to reason. Your brother was angry, upset. Maybe was an accident, but it happened. We both know how he was about Olivia. The thought of her upcoming marriage made him snap . . .”
I shook my head, unable to speak, hoping that my head shake was enough.
“I see that you are wearing blinders where your brother is concerned. You always have.” He hit the intercom on his phone. “Nance, can you show India out?”
I stood. “I am truly sorry about Olivia, but my brother is innocent.”
Dr. Blocken looked away from me, out the window that gave him a scenic view of the square. A tear slid down from the corner of his eye.
My heart broke for him, and tsking about Nella the Gagger the whole way, Nance led me to the door.
Hurrying to the car, I planned to unlock my trunk. I pushed the carpet back and exposed the tire well.
“India,” someone called.
My head connected with the trunk’s lid.
Ann Barnard, my mother’s long-time secretary, ran toward me from across the square. Her tight brown poodle curls and wide hips bounced in tandem with her awkward stride. “Thank goodness I caught you.”
“What’s wrong?” I slammed the trunk shut.
She doubled over, hands pressed to her knees. She gasped, “The reverend called and said if I heard from you, I should tell you—and, while I’m on the phone, I spotted you, standing right across the street, plain as day.” She took three more gulps of air.
I held her shoulder. “Tell me what?”
“Mark,” she gasped. “He’s been arrested.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
I fished a water bottle out of my car and instructed Ann to drink. She chugged the twenty ounces like a salty seaman. After some coaxing, I convinced Ann to follow me back to the church. I was afraid she would pass out from the heat.
When we entered the church office, Ann moaned when she saw the flashing red light on the answering machine and sank onto a small loveseat in the corner of the room.
The church office was a testament to Ann’s abilities. Or lack thereof. Piles of office paper and old service bulletins indicated the location of her desk. The telephone tipped precariously atop the mound of files and memos; all incoming lines had lit up.
She held the water bottle in a viselike grip; the plastic crackled in her grasp. “I can’t take it anymore. I love your mother, you know that. She saved me and my family, but I can’t take it anymore. Not one more thing. Not one more thing,” she mumbled to herself. “I know she cares, but I can’t work under these conditions. Not without her here to help me.”
I put my hands in the hip pockets of my shorts before the urge to slap her overtook me.
“I’ll resign today.” She sniffled.
I watched without feeling any sympathy. On average, Ann vowed to resign twice a month. I knew the routine. My mother would console her, and Ann would agree to stay a little while longer.
I took three giant steps away from the loveseat, putting myself out of smacking range. I wasn’t in a mood to be gentle. “Tell me what she said about Mark.”
She rocked in her seat and tapped the empty bottle on the side of her head.
“Ann,” I said sharply.
She jumped.
“Tell me,” I said, trying to mimic the voice of God—or at least that of my mother.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. Here I am, worrying about myself, and your poor brother’s in trouble. I’m a horrible person. I’ll resign today.”
