The two newcomers walked into the room, and the others jumped to their feet and crowded around Jared, voicing the usual awkward and sympathetic words everyone came up with when someone died.
Genevieve, however, hung back, Joe noticed. As did Eileen. Interesting.
Only when the crowd around Jared had dispersed did they take the opportunity to murmur quiet sympathy. Joe found himself realizing that, despite all the jewels and silk, cosmetics, surgeries and expensive coiffures in evidence, there was no one in the room like Genevieve. Tall, slim, sleek and natural, everything about her whispered of innate perfection. He found himself glad for personal, as well as professional reasons that he had attended this very strange affair.
She had endured so much and was herself so strong. But no one should have to be alone after what she’d been through, and he would protect her.
“Please,” Jared said, lifting a hand and stepping back to address the group. He smiled awkwardly. “I actually came here tonight to say the same thing to all of you that he…” he indicated Joe with a nod of his head “…that he told you. Please be careful.” He grinned. “If one of you bastards didn’t kill my father, or even if you did, we have to live with the fact that any one of us may be a target.”
If one of you bastards didn’t kill my father…
He had spoken the words lightly, Joe thought. Like a joke. But had he really meant them humorously?
Joe walked over and offered his hand to Jared. “Joe Connolly,” he said. “I add my condolences on your loss.”
“The private detective?” Jared asked him. “What are you doing here?”
“I’ve engaged Mr. Connolly,” Gen said, stepping up. “To look into your father’s murder—and to make sure that my mother and the rest of you aren’t in any danger.”
“But…this is a board meeting,” Jared said.
“No, this is actually an accusation fest,” Larry said huffily.
“Larry…” Barbara chastised.
“Seriously, right now it would be prudent for all of you to be careful. The police are investigating a number of possibilities, but until they have a suspect in custody, you all need to behave as if you could be next,” Joe said.
“But this is a board meeting,” Jared repeated, staring at Eileen Brideswell.
“Calm down, Jared. Anything that helps, right?” Mary Vincenzo said, speaking up at last.
“Yes, yes. All right. Well, get to it then, Mr. Connolly. Actually, I just stopped in to make sure everyone on the board was aware that we’re having a special viewing of my father before the services Monday. Five o’clock, at Philips Mortuary. I hope to see you all there.” Jared looked from one to another. “I hope you’ll understand if I don’t stay. Aunt Mary…?”
They started to walk away, and then Jared, with Mary on his arm, paused at the door and turned back. “Mr. Connolly?”
“Yes?”
“You’ll be there, I assume? In your…professional capacity.”
“Yes,” Joe said. “I’ll be there.”
He felt Genevieve lay her hand on his arm, and he watched as Jared Bigelow noted her movement, a curious glint entering his eyes.
“Until then,” Jared said, and left.
Joe was acting strange lately, Genevieve thought.
The distance between them suddenly seemed far too great, far greater than it ever had before.
They had dropped Eileen at home, and then he’d brought her to her place. Being Joe and ever the gentleman, he had seen her up to her apartment, his every move the epitome of courtesy.
But, to be quite honest, she didn’t want courtesy any more than she wanted pity or to be treated like a fragile rose.
All of a sudden she realized the complete truth that had inexplicably eluded her until now.
In the days following her rescue and Leslie’s death, she had been forced to find her own footing, to learn simply to go on again.
But since then, during the time they had spent together, she had begun to realize just how much she liked Joe. More than liked him.
He, of course, had been in love with Leslie, who in turn, had been in love with the fiancé, Joe’s cousin, who had died before her. But if she had lived, would she have fallen for Joe in time? Or would she have fallen only for a shadow of her first love? Matt, like Joe, had been tall, with light hair, though Joe’s was slightly darker, just as his eyes were greener. But Matt had been built with the same broad-shouldered strength. Maybe Joe would have wondered all his life if she had been truly in love with him, or only dreaming that he was someone else every time they made love.
Some questions could never be answered. Leslie and Matt were both dead now.
She found herself thinking of Shakespeare then, rather than Poe. Of Hamlet.
He is dead and gone, lady, he is dead and gone. At his heels a grass green turf and at his head a stone…
Yes, Leslie MacIntyre was dead, but did Joe still dream about her?
Perhaps Joe could never be serious about anyone—especially Gen herself, because she had been the cause of Leslie’s death.