A Willing Murder Read online

  “I’ll have to look at it,” Sara said. “Maybe some ancient old person is someone I went to high school with. Your pants look good. Great job, Kate.”

  She looked around his legs at Sara. “Can he actually sing?”

  “Quite well. If I’d known that back when he graduated from high school, I would have kidnapped him and made him try out at Juilliard.”

  “Only if I could have taken Mom, Ivy and Evan with me.”

  They were silent for a moment. If they’d all left town then, maybe Evan would still be alive.

  FOURTEEN

  They left for the cemetery at nine. Sara and Kate were frowning in worry about the coming service. Would many people show up? Since few remembered the deceased, would they laugh and giggle? Stand around complaining about their bosses and spouses? Be disrespectful?

  “You two are going to get wrinkles,” Jack said.

  “Too late for me to worry about that,” Kate said. “And too soon for Aunt Sara.” That she had purposefully said it backward made them laugh.

  At the grave site, the two coffins were side by side and draped in roses. White for Cheryl; red for Verna. They wouldn’t be covered until the notes had been put inside.

  Four rows of chairs were on three sides and with no one there, they looked imposingly empty. There were two florist vans parked close by and they were unloading huge arrangements.

  “They from you?” Jack asked Sara.

  “Some, but not all of them.”

  Kate began to read cards aloud. “Raintree Bakery. W.G. Hall Jewelers. The Swiss Cork. Tangled Yarn.” There was something from nearly every store in Lachlan.

  Jack went to an enormous arrangement of white lilies. “It’s from a place I’ve never heard of—Medlar Realty.” He looked at Kate. “Something you haven’t told us?”

  Kate smiled. Alastair must have sent those. “Just an inside joke.”

  “The Great White Hunter goes after his prey,” Jack mumbled and walked away, his crutches sinking into the soft ground.

  At nine forty, people began to arrive. By nine fifty, there was a crowd, a couple hundred, at least. They lined up to speak to Jack or Kate or Sara, saying, “Tayla called me,” or “Alastair Stewart invited me. Hope that was all right.”

  Kate couldn’t keep from giving Jack an “I told you so” look.

  At ten after ten, the service began. There were two pastors and they each said a few words. They weren’t the usual bland, generic words, but personal, thoughtful comments about the two women. Sara had made sure the ministers were informed.

  Cheryl’s hope for the future was spoken of. Verna’s deep, unwavering love for her daughter was emphasized.

  The ministers finished and stepped to the side. Out of the crowd came six young women, as thin as wraiths, with long, silky hair and black dresses. Three had violins and the others were standing in silence.

  “Where is the sound equipment?” Kate whispered to Sara, but she didn’t reply.

  The people at the front of the crowd were quietly waiting, but in the background, children were getting restless and noisy. Parents did their best to hush them, but it wasn’t working.

  Jack walked in front of the young women and leaned his crutches against a chair. His clean-shaven face made her think of the little boy she’d seen laughing in the videos with Cheryl. She gave him an encouraging smile but he didn’t seem to see her.

  He nodded toward the violinists and they began the beautiful, mournful song of “Ave Maria.” Beside them, the other girls began a slow chorus. Their voices were so soft, so low, Kate doubted if they could be heard more than a few feet back. Why, oh, why hadn’t someone told her of this? She could have arranged for microphones and speakers.

  Jack took a breath and began to sing.

  His voice was clear and beautiful—and rich. Loud. The sound, the vibrations, got everyone’s attention. Children stopped playing and listened.

  The song had a sad feeling to it, but Jack’s voice was liquid tears. Cheryl and her mother, Evan and Henry—the man he’d loved as his true father—were all there. The notes cried for them as they came directly from Jack’s heart.

  Ave Maria, gratia plena. Hail Mary, full of grace.

  Dominus tecum. The lord is with thee.

  Kate reached out and took Sara’s hand, and she covered it with her other one.

  They were both crying. So much love given; so much love lost.

  Benedicta tu in mulieribus. Blessed art thou among women.

  Around them the other guests had stopped moving. Jack’s sweet, strong tenor voice encased them and pulled feelings from inside them that they’d tried to bury.

  Mothers, fathers, children, lovers, friends. All the grief that was hidden deep inside them was being drawn to the surface.

  Ora pro nobis. Pray for us.

  Kate saw tears on Jack’s face and he closed his eyes, looking only at the memories within him. A young girl, so full of hope and life, had had it all taken from her.

  Ora, ora pro nobis pecatoribus. Pray, pray for us sinners.

  Nunc et in hora mortis. Now and at the hour of death.

  Et in hora mortis nostrae. And in the hour of our death.

  And in the hour of our death.

  When Jack finished the last note, there was silence in the crowd. Someone started to applaud, but angry faces were turned toward him and he stopped.

  Gradually, the people came back to life and began to move. But they were quiet, speaking in low tones. Jack’s song had made them remember why they were there.

  As for Jack, he seemed to disappear. Kate had seen him pick up his crutches and walk away. The six young women had surrounded him like a protective shield, allowing no one to get near him. Kate and Sara stood together, thanking the people for coming.

  “Is he all right?” Kate asked Sara when the line began to thin out.

  “I don’t know. Go find him.”

  Kate smiled at the people before them, then turned away. Once out of sight, she began to run, looking everywhere for Jack.

  She found him near the large headstone of his grandfather Cal. Close by was another stone for Henry Lowell and not far away was Evan. She looked around but didn’t see Roy Wyatt’s headstone.

  Kate didn’t say anything, just stood beside Jack as he leaned on his crutches and stared at his grandfather’s name etched in granite.

  They were quiet for a while, then Jack said, “You ready to face the masses? The hungry, teeming hordes?”

  “I have my lamp lit and the golden door will be opened.”

  “For me or old man Stewart?”

  “For the whole town,” she said, then realized that his innuendo was sexual. She turned a bit red and they laughed together. “Aunt Sara will be waiting for us.” She started toward the car.

  “Wait,” he said and held out his arm.

  They’d known each other a very short time but they’d been through a lot together. She went to him and wrapped her arms around him, and he kissed her forehead.

  “Thanks for all this,” he said. “It wouldn’t have come about without you. Sara and I would have retreated to our rooms in silence.”

  She smiled as she knew that was true. “Your singing—”

  Groaning, he released her. “How am I gonna get any girls now? I’ll be known as the Singing Wimp of Lachlan.”

  They were slowly walking toward the car.

  “Speaking of that, I’ve been meaning to ask you about some newscaster you’ve been seeing.”

  Jack gave a one-sided grin. “Jealous?”

  “Insane with it. I want to claw her eyes out. Rip out her hair. Beat her with your crutches. I fantasize about—”

  “Okay, I get it. You couldn’t care less who I date.” They were at the car.

  Huddled in the back, looking tiny, was Sara. “Ready to get this o