Double Shot

to that would be.

“So Bobby’s out of town?” I asked neutrally as I did a seven-point turn in her steep driveway.

“Nope!” she cried gaily. “He’s out fighting the fire. I don’t know why they call it the Aspen Meadow Volunteer Fire Department. If he didn’t get paid for fighting fires, he wouldn’t be able to afford his house!” She put her arm over the seat and turned to greet Arch. “Hey, buddy! Still playing hockey?”

“Aha,” I said quickly. “So you knew he wasn’t playing golf twice a week.”

“Uh-oh,” came Arch’s low voice from the back. I opened my eyes wide at Sandee, who had turned crimson.

“I wasn’t supposed to talk about it,” she mumbled. “John Richard told me to keep my mouth shut.”

“Really?” I said sourly. “How well did that work out?”

“Oh, Mom,” Arch interjected. “Leave her alone.”

“Sure,” I said. “Fine.”

Sandee turned back to Arch. “So! Did you get that new stick you wanted? Have you used it?”

“I did get it!” Arch exclaimed. “I’m using it for the first time tomorrow morning, at a hockey birthday party.”

“Cool! How’s Todd?”

I really didn’t begrudge Sandee’s and Arch’s friendship. In fact, I was glad for it. Before John Richard was incarcerated, he had largely ignored Arch during the weekly visits. Arch’s visits to John Richard’s house were often made more bearable by the presence of John Richard’s chatty, immature girlfriends. And now here was Sandee blabbing almost flirtatiously with Arch. At least it was diverting his attention from the upcoming service. Sandee might not be terribly intelligent, I thought grimly, but at least she was good at lifting a mood.

When we arrived at the church, the parking lot was not even half full. Had John Richard really been so disliked? He’d treated hundreds of patients in Aspen Meadow over the years his practice had been here. Would so few come to remember him? Fewer even than Albert Kerr, who had practiced only at Southwest, and that had been fourteen years ago?

That’s the problem with the arrogant, I thought as Arch, Sandee, and I scanned the small crowd for Marla and Tom. John Richard had thought he was much more powerful and popular than he actually was. Not to mention that over the past few years, he’d spent a good bit of his time behind bars. If his prison pals could have come, maybe the church would have filled up.

“You look very upset,” Father Pete said, coming up beside me. He touched my arm. “Are you all right?”

I signaled for Arch and Sandee to go on up to the pew from which Marla was waving madly. “I’m fine,” I said curtly. “It’s Arch I’m worried about.”

Father Pete let go of my arm. “I think your son is in better shape than you are. Goldy?”

“I’m here, aren’t I? Thanks, Father Pete. I’m going to sit with my son now.” And I scuttled away.

In the few minutes before the service started, I scanned the crowd. Courtney was there, giving everyone her cold gimlet eyes. So she hadn’t been arrested after all. She wore a black dress that was somewhat more stylish than, but certainly as revealing as, Sandee’s. Instead of pearls, she wore a gold necklace, a strand of what looked like miniature tennis balls. Why did I get the feeling that both she and Sandee were trolling for cute young doctors? Unfortunately for them, 99 percent of John Richard’s doc buddies had abandoned him when he’d been convicted of assault. Not that they hadn’t known what he was like. They knew, because I’d told their wives. But getting caught and sent to jail—that was taboo.

“Goldy!” Marla whispered. “Look in the back. Recognize anybody?”

I turned slowly. Well, well. Holly Kerr was sitting with Ginger Vikarios. I didn’t know where Ted was. And it looked as if John Richard still had some loyal friends in the stripper community. Besides Sandee, there was Lana, who winked at me, Dannyboy the Lion-Maned, Ruby of the Dead Husband, and half a dozen other women whom I might have recognized if they’d taken off their clothes. Ruby Drake, I thought. Marla had thought Ruby and the Jerk were dating, and yet Ruby had told us she hated John Richard. Not only that, but the same gun had been used to kill her husband and the Jerk. Were the cops looking at her as a suspect? Should I?

Arch turned to see what we were looking at. His eyes bugged out at the sight of so many curvaceous women.

Tom stifled a laugh and said, “Hey, buddy, what are you going to give your friend for his birthday tomorrow?”

And then, finally, the music and talking ceased. Father Pete, as imposing as ever, preceded the coffin. I did not know the four men who were pallbearers, probably that 1 percent who’d stayed loyal to the Jerk. Their procession down the nave was slow and deliberate. I checked Arch: His face was very pale.

“I am the resurrection and the life,” Father Pete intoned. We all opened our service leaflets and began to read along with him. Arch dashed tears out of his eyes. Marla gave him a tissue and I put my arm around him.

“ ‘Blessed are they who observe justice, who do righteousness at all times,’ ” we read from Psalm 106. After that we recited Psalm 121, “ ‘I lift up my eyes to the hills, from whence does my help come?’ ”

I began to feel painfully, overpoweringly ill. How embarrassing would it be for Arch if I tried to slip out? Tom, sensing my discomfort, put his arm around me.

“I know what you’re feeling,” he said under his breath.

“What I’m feeling is sick.”

“Close your eyes, see if you can feel something.”

Since Tom was about the least New Agey person I’d ever encountered, I did as bidden. After a moment, I got it. What I felt was a struggle. The more I focused on it, the clearer it was. I opened my mouth in surprise. “What is it?” I asked him.

“The presence of good and evil,” he replied, his eyes fixed on the altar. “You’re feeling the conflict. Unresolved.”

Somehow, we got through it. In John Richard’s will, he’d designated an old doctor friend to take care of the funeral arrangements. Payment for the funeral was supposed to come out of John Richard’s estate—which I doubted was very large. But the doc had bought the coffin and made all the arrangements, so at least there was enough money for that. I’d have to leave worry about Arch’s high school tuition to another day.

Arch had said he did not want to attend a graveside ceremony, which I honored. I didn’t even know where John Richard would be laid to rest, nor did I care. The Jerk was most emphatically not my problem anymore.

When Marla asked if we were staying for the reception, Arch, Tom, and I declined. Sandee’s Rainbow pals were taking her off to party, Marla said. When I ran outside to see if I could catch Ruby Drake, she was gone.

Arch, Tom, and I went home in my van. Yes, I was a passenger in my vehicle. But it felt as if I’d been run over by it. I asked Arch what he wanted to eat for dinner, and he said he’d been invited to Todd’s for dinner and to spend the night, then Todd would take him to the party the next day. Didn’t I remember him telling me all this?

I did not. But I told him it was fine. He clomped upstairs and began throwing clothes and hockey equipment into a bag. By the time Eileen Druckman showed up to take him, I had left a long message for Detective Blackridge, telling him about the fake pearls at the end of John Richard’s driveway. I asked if he had questioned Ruby Drake. And had he gotten Tom’s message about Nan’s confession? Then I hung up.

I ran myself a hot bath and got in to soak. Tom insisted we get into pajamas—it was not yet five o’clock—and enjoy the ultimate comfort food: grilled-cheese sandwiches. He’d rented a lighthearted comedy set in Italy. I laughed and felt my spirits lift. By eight o’clock, we’d taken care of the dishes and the animals, and were snuggling in bed.

By quarter-past eight Tom was making slow, tender love to me. The gate to my soul swung open, and Tom’s love flowed in. He kissed me over and over, saying, “You are the greatest gift I have ever received.” He caressed my belly and thighs and said, “I will never cause you pain.” When it was over, he held me tight and whispered, “I will love you forever and ever.”

And then, finally, I began to sob.