“Where is it?”
“I don’t know. I can’t remember where I put it.”
“When exactly was this?” inquired Lucy.
“Last June.”
“There’s no time. We’ll look for it later. You have to go.”
“I’ll get in trouble.”
“Maybe you should have thought of that yesterday,” said Lucy, reaching for her final card. “I will not drive you. If you miss the bus you will be late or absent. Is that how you want to start your high school career?”
“Okay, I’m going, Mom.”
Sara managed the stairs with the speed of a death row prisoner taking the last mile, but eventually she made it down to the kitchen and out the door with her sister. Lucy stood for a moment, savoring the view of the two departing girls, then turned back to the counter to pour herself a celebratory cup of coffee. That’s when she noticed Sara’s lunch still sitting on the counter. Grabbing it, she ran after them, catching up just as they joined the group of parents and children waiting for the bus. All the Prudence Path moms were there, except for Chris, whose kids were still too young for school.
Sara wasn’t all that pleased to see her. “Mom, I don’t want it,” she hissed, reluctantly taking the bright red insulated bag Lucy had bought for her. “The cheerleaders all buy lunch.”
“We didn’t discuss this…” began Lucy, but thought better of continuing in front of the entire neighborhood. She suspected the cheerleaders didn’t eat lunch at all, probably subsisting on diet soda from the controversial machine that some parents were trying to have removed from the cafeteria, but this wasn’t the time to go into that. She pulled a couple of crumpled dollar bills from her pocket and gave them to Sara just as the big yellow bus came into view. There was a flurry of hugs and kisses and waves and then the kids were all aboard, the door closed, and they were on their way.
The women stood about awkwardly, occasionally casting glances towards the Stanton house at the end of the cul-de-sac. Mimi’s murder was on everybody’s mind but nobody wanted to be the first to bring it up.
“It’s been a long summer,” said Willie, speaking to nobody in particular.
“You can say that again,” agreed Frankie, determined to be friendly.
Willie pointedly ignored her, practically turning her back on her in a way that excluded her from the circle. “Summer vacation is too long. The kids get bored after the first few weeks.”
“I can’t believe my girls are in kindergarten,” said Bonnie, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue. “They’re still babies.”
“School is the best thing that ever happened to mothers,” said Frankie. “Trust me.”
“She’s right,” added Lucy. “Lydia Volpe, the kindergarten teacher, is an old friend of mine. Your girls will love her.”
“I’m going to miss them,” wailed Bonnie.
“You’ll be surprised how fast the time goes. They’ll be home before you know it,” said Lucy.
“Anyone for coffee?” asked Frankie. “I just made a fresh pot. I thought Bonnie might need a little coffee and sympathy.”
Willie recoiled, as if Frankie had suggested something improper, but Bonnie accepted the invitation eagerly. Lucy reluctantly declined. She’d love to hear what the women thought of Mimi’s murder but she didn’t have time. It was deadline day and she had to finish that darned obituary.
“That was a nice tribute you wrote about Mimi,” said Officer Barney Culpepper, easing his big frame next to Lucy in the pew. They, and a couple hundred other people, were attending Mimi’s funeral mass on Thursday morning in Our Lady of Hope church.
“Thanks, Barney. I did my best. You were a big help,” said Lucy, looking around the packed church. “Funny, I didn’t think she knew that many people.”
“It’s ’cause o’ the way she died,” said Barney. “They all come out of the woodwork for a murder.” He sighed. “She was a nice lady. Everybody at the station liked her. Felt sorry for her, you know, ’cause of her husband. Now I’m not sayin’ he hit her or anything but some men don’t have to, if you know what I mean. They get their wives scared and keep ’em scared, always afraid he’ll lose his temper.” Barney shifted in the pew, which groaned under his weight. “But lately, things seemed to be looking up for her. She seemed happier, more relaxed. The boys were older and more independent, they had that nice new house and, well, Fred’s business was doin’ better. I don’t care what people say, ’bout money not mattering, believe me, it matters. I’ve seen a lot of tragic situations that coulda been avoided if people coulda got a night out, gone on a vacation, fixed the car. You know?”
Lucy nodded. She knew.
“And now, jus’ when she was starting to enjoy life a little, she goes and gets herself killed.” He shook his head mournfully and his jowls quivered. “T’rr’ble.”
The organ music stopped and everyone stood as Fred Stanton and his sons entered through a side door and took their seats in the front pew. All three were wearing somber expressions, new suits, and fresh haircuts; Mimi would have been proud. The congregation began singing a hymn and, as she struggled to follow the unfamiliar tune, Lucy’s mind wandered. She wondered if Mimi had ever seen the men in her family all dressed up, all at the same time. She wondered why Fred and the boys seemed to be the only family Mimi had. Was she an only child? What happened to her parents? What was her marriage to Fred really like? Did he really not know anything about her life before she met him, or was he hiding something? What was he really feeling? she wondered, as the music stopped and he followed the priest’s instructions to kneel in prayer, only feet away from his wife’s body.
Thunderous organ chords announcing the final hymn broke into Lucy’s reverie and she stood with the rest of the congregation. When the hymn ended, the priest blessed the congregation, then the pallbearers from the funeral home hoisted the coffin onto their shoulders and carried it down the aisle, accompanied by somber chords from the organ. Fred and the boys followed the coffin while everyone waited to be released by the ushers, pew by pew. It was a slow process and, since Lucy and Barney were sitting in the back of the church, they were among the last to leave the church and join the throng gathered on the sidewalk.
“Are you going to the cemetery?” asked Barney, smoothing his graying brush cut with his hand before replacing his cap.
“I don’t think so,” said Lucy, who hated standing by that gaping hole in the ground and watching as the coffin was lowered and the ritual handfuls of earth were thrown in. It was an all-too-graphic reminder that death was inescapable.
Barney doffed his hat and headed for his police car, which would lead the procession with lights flashing. Lucy joined Willie and Bonnie, who were chatting together on the church lawn.