by Linda Reilly
At one point, Becker drifted off to chat with some of the mourners who were milling about in the outer reception area. So-called mourners, Lara corrected herself. Who knew what most of these people were really thinking? Becker’s face was etched with hard lines, his eyes bleary. His fingers twitched, and Lara suspected he was itching for a cigarette.
Lara’s heartbeat spiked when Megan Haskell ambled in. Garbed totally in black, right down to her long wool coat and stylish beret, she was flanked by a woman Lara had never seen before. Slender, with ocean-blue eyes, the woman looked so strikingly like Megan that Lara knew it had to be her mom.
Megan signed the guest book, and her companion followed suit. Megan’s aunt and uncle came in right behind them. Sally Emerson’s face registered shock when she spotted Lara sitting beside Karen. Lara offered her a weak nod, but Sally’s expression remained frozen.
After kneeling briefly at the coffin, Megan crossed herself and went over to Karen. Her gaze snagged Lara’s and she took in a sharp breath. After quietly offering her condolences to the widow, she moved over to Lara. “What are you doing here?” she hissed in Lara’s ear.
“Karen asked me to sit with her,” Lara murmured, not that it was any of Megan’s business.
Megan glared at her for a long moment, then grabbed her companion’s hand and pulled her toward a row of chairs near the back.
“We meet again,” Sally Emerson said quietly, her eyes as cold as glaciers.
Lara rose off her chair so they could speak more privately. “Mrs. Emerson, I’m here at Karen’s request, and I’ll be leaving right after the service. Is that Megan’s mom who’s with her?”
Sally nodded, and her gaze softened. “Finally, the woman had the gumption to leave her husband. She and Megan are going to get an apartment together.”
Art Emerson came up behind his wife and touched her arm lightly. He nodded at Lara. “Let’s go, hon. Meggie’s saving seats for us.”
Sally opened her mouth as if she had more to say, but then she clamped it shut. They strode off, leaving Lara wondering.
Visitors began arriving in clusters. Lara suspected that many of them were fellow members of the Bar. Three smartly dressed women clutching designer purses came in together. After signing the guest book and performing the obligatory kneel at the coffin, each of them offered Karen a half-hearted condolence and a squeeze from a bejeweled hand.
“Those women,” Karen murmured to Lara after the three had swept past, “used to be my good friends. Now they treat me like I have typhoid.”
Organ music began drifting softly from the overhead speakers. Lara glanced at her watch—it was ten to eleven. A balding man wearing liturgical vestments strode in carrying a prayer book. He took a seat in the front row and opened his book.
“Karen, why don’t I move over there and sit with the other mourners,” Lara whispered. “These chairs are for the family, plus your dad’s here, and—”
“No, please.” Karen grabbed Lara’s hand and gripped it tightly, her eyes brimming with tears. “I’d really like you to stay.” Her tone was pleading.
Lara knew, right then, that she was toast. As bad as she felt for Karen, she shouldn’t have agreed to this. It would be a miracle if she could extricate herself from Karen’s clutches after the service was over.
But she would. She had to.
Besides, she had a perfectly valid reason—she needed to be at the hospital with Gideon and Uncle Amico.
It was three minutes before eleven when a familiar figure entered the parlor. Lara brightened at the sight of Felicia Tristany—she was a breath of fresh air in a room heavy with gloom. Attired in a forest-green wool pantsuit, a white flower pinned to her lapel, Felicia scribbled hurriedly in the guest book. Without stopping at the coffin, she made a beeline for Karen. The two hugged tightly, while Lara tried not to stare.
“It will all be okay,” Felicia murmured to Karen, “Everything will be okay.”
Karen nodded, and a smile cracked her lips. “I know it will. Thank you, Felicia. You’re a wonderful and dear friend.”
Felicia’s pink-tinted lips curved into a tiny smile as she moved over to Lara. In the next instant, Gary Becker appeared behind Felicia. He touched her shoulder, and she took Lara’s hand firmly in her own. “There are two chairs free,” she whispered. “Let’s nab them.”
Lara felt herself dragged by the hand and propelled toward a seat in the fourth row. In the same instant, Becker claimed Lara’s chair next to his daughter, leaving the faint scent of cigarette smoke trailing in his wake. The whole thing happened so quickly Lara knew it had to have been choreographed. Karen looked bereft, but she took her father’s hand and leaned into his shoulder.
What just happened? Lara asked herself. Either Felicia had sensed Lara’s angst and decided to rescue her, or Gary Becker had found Lara’s presence intrusive and arranged with Felicia to oust her from her chair.
Either way, Lara was grateful for the intervention.
“You naughty girl,” Felicia scolded quietly as they sat down, a twinkle in her faded blue eyes. “You never told me you rescue cats. I found out yesterday from Tina. She told me all about you.”
Despite the circumstances, Lara couldn’t help smiling. She shrugged. “I guess it never came up.”
Felicia patted Lara’s hand, her brow creased with concern. “After the service, I’d like you to come home with me. Don’t worry, I live close by. There’s a stray cat behind my house that I’ve been feeding for weeks, but I simply can’t bear to see him suffer in the cold any longer. I haven’t been able to entice him inside, but this morning he was so cold and hungry that I managed to lure him into Lily’s carrier with some tuna.”
Lara squeezed the elderly woman’s hand. “Felicia, I’m sorry, but I can’t. My uncle Amico”—not really a fib—“broke his hip this morning and I have to get to the hospital.”
Felicia’s thin face fell. She looked heartsick. “Oh dear, I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Have you called Animal Control?” Lara asked.
She shook her head. “Bakewell’s AC officer is only part-time, and right now she’s on maternity leave. The police won’t do anything. I already spoke to them. They told me to contact a shelter.”
Lara felt for Felicia—and for the kitty she’d rescued—but right now her hands were tied.
She took a moment to think about it.
She’d already decided not to stop at the bridal salon. The shoes could easily be shipped to her. Since Felicia lived close by, Lara could retrieve the cat, transfer him to her own carrier, and bring him to Amy’s clinic for evaluation. After that she’d find out which hospital Uncle Amico had been taken to and meet Gideon there. After all, wasn’t rescuing and caring for cats what High Cliff was about? How could she refuse to help this caring woman?
“Felicia, I’ll make a call after the service, but I can’t make any promises until I do,” Lara whispered, as silence fell over the room.
The balding man with the prayer book rose from his chair, stood before the casket, and asked everyone to join him in a prayer.
For the next ten minutes, he sang Wayne Chancer’s praises. Some of it sounded false to Lara, but the man was probably doing his best given Chancer’s dubious past. Gary Becker scowled and twitched and sucked on cough drops during the entire eulogy, while his daughter clutched his hand and stared into her lap.
When the service was over, Lara breathed a sigh of relief. People began filing out. A low chatter, mingled with light laughter, sifted through the throng.
Before entering the funeral parlor, Lara had muted the sound on her phone. She quickly checked for messages. As she suspected, there’d been a text from Gideon.
Call me when you’re leaving Bakewell. Soon, I hope! I’m heading back to the office. Uncle Amico is stable; hip not broken. No surgery scheduled. Love you.
Lara sighed with reli
ef, then turned to her companion. “Excuse me, Felicia, but I have to call my boyfriend about…my uncle.”
Felicia nodded. “Of course, dear. I’ll wait for you in the lobby.”
In the short time since the service had ended, both Karen and her dad seemed to have disappeared. Lara skimmed her gaze around for any sign of them but came up empty. Had the funeral director escorted them out through a back door to avoid potential reporters?
She remained seated and called Gideon.
“Hi, honey,” he said. “Thank God, Uncle Amico’s hip isn’t broken—it’s only sprained. The ER doctor called it a first-degree hip sprain, which is a minor ligament tear. He should heal in a few weeks—maybe longer because of his age—but they’re going to keep him there overnight. There’s not much they can do other than ice it and give him painkillers.”
“Oh boy, that’s such a relief. How did he sprain it?”
Gideon gave a soft chuckle. “Evidently, his new female friend persuaded him to join a yoga class. During one of the moves, he twisted around too quickly and hurt his hip. I suspect he was trying to impress her with his athletic prowess.”
“Poor Uncle Amico. At least he’s being cared for. So, you’re heading back to work now?”
“Yeah, the orthopedic doc said Uncle’s going to be out of it most of the day from the painkillers. He suggested I come back this evening to visit him. You’ll come with me, right?”
“You know I will. Call me once you know the timing, okay?”
“I will. Lara,” he said warily, “how did everything go today?”
“Pretty well. I’m getting ready to leave now. I’ll tell you all about it when I see you. I never did spot Cutler. Maybe it’s his day off.”
“Unlikely,” Gideon muttered. “Anyway, let me know once you’re home so I can start breathing normally again.”
Lara smiled. “I will, I promise.”
After they disconnected, Lara wondered if she should have mentioned her cat rescue mission. Well, too late now. Besides, it shouldn’t take very long.
She glanced at her phone. It was almost noon. Once she picked up Felicia’s rescue kitty, she planned to call Amy from her cell and let her know she was bringing in a cat for evaluation. If all went well, the cat would be joining them at the shelter within a day or two. Three new felines in as many days. The shelter was bustling!
Felicia was waiting in the lobby for her, huddled in one of the chairs lined up against the wall. Her face looked pinched as she checked her watch. There was no sign of Karen or her dad, which Lara still thought was odd.
Either way, it was over. Lara was done with Bakewell. What was that expression Tina Tanaka had used? Mata ne. See you later.
“There you are!” Felicia said when she spotted Lara. “I thought you’d gone off without saying goodbye.”
Lara gritted her teeth and smiled. “I’m still here. Why don’t I follow you to your house and pick up the cat? I have a carrier I can transfer him to.”
Felicia nodded. “That will work perfectly.” She slipped her arm through Lara’s. “Come on. We’ll be at my place in no time.”
Outside, the sky was overcast, clustered with gray clouds that stirred up a chill wind. They were heading out to the parking lot behind the building when Lara spied a familiar face. From the driver’s seat of an older green sedan, Tina Tanaka watched them.
Wait a minute. Hadn’t Tina said she was working today?
Lara waved to her, but the young woman only stared at her in return. She probably should have gone over and asked Tina to have the wedding shoes shipped to her, but she didn’t want to waste any more time. A quick phone call later would work just as well.
Once inside the Saturn, Lara locked her doors. She started her engine and followed Felicia out of the parking lot, onto the main drag.
Lara shot a glance at her rearview mirror. She saw Tina peel out of the lot and drive in the opposite direction.
Chapter 34
Felicia’s bungalow-style home was in a quiet neighborhood of older homes on a charming residential street. The house itself, painted white with black shutters, sat on a patch of lawn that was probably quite lush during the warmer months. Alongside the house, remnants of flower beds huddled beneath frozen patches of snow.
Lara followed Felicia’s aging VW along a driveway that wrapped around to the back entrance. Leaving her cell phone on the front seat, she got out of her car and glanced around.
The backyard extended toward a dense stretch of forest, thick with mature maples and oaks. During the warmer months it probably teemed with wildlife. Lara could easily imagine the kindly Felicia feeding squirrels and birds out there, leaving little tidbits to supplement their diets.
Lara grabbed her carrier from the back seat of the Saturn and followed Felicia toward a rear entryway.
“Be careful, it’s a bit icy in spots,” Felicia cautioned. She unlocked the back door and held it open for Lara, then locked it behind her. Lara found herself in a small entryway used primarily for coats and boots. A pair of plaid rubber boots rested on the floor, along with a plastic bucket filled with gardening tools and a set of pink flowered gloves. On one wall, a snow shovel hung from an iron hook.
“Come on in, Lara. The cat is in the kitchen. I closed Lily in my bedroom so she wouldn’t get nervous with a strange animal in the house. Can you stay for a cup of tea?”
“I’d love to, Felicia, but I really can’t stay. The uncle I told you about—he’s in the hospital. His hip isn’t broken—only sprained—but I still need to head home.”
Felicia nodded distractedly. “I completely understand. Maybe another time.”
“The other thing is,” Lara said, “your poor kitty is probably terrified being trapped in Lily’s carrier all this time. I think it’s best if I take him right to our vet for evaluation.”
“Of course. You’re right,” Felicia agreed.
Lara followed her into a cheery kitchen with lacy white curtains and old-fashioned linoleum counters. The walls were painted celery green, and the appliances were chocolate brown—a color that was popular decades earlier. On the floor next to the oven was a pink pet carrier. From inside the carrier, a wide-eyed gray cat with a white face and chest gazed up at Lara with suspicious eyes. From his size, Lara guessed he was barely a year old, if that.
“Hey, sweetie,” Lara cooed to the kitty. “Where did you come from?” She turned to Felicia. “Have you given him anything to eat?”
“Only a bit of tuna. I wasn’t sure what to do.” Felicia wrung her hands.
Lara crouched down and unzipped the door to her own carrier, which was lined with clean towels. Then, very carefully, she unzipped Lily’s carrier and reached in for the cat. With a sudden hiss and a swipe of forepaws, the cat wrangled past her and dashed out of the kitchen into the adjoining room.
“Oh!” Felicia cried. “He went in the dining room!”
Lara grabbed her carrier and hurried after him.
The dining room was small, graced with a long rectangular table, a corner hutch, and a sideboard cluttered with fussy knickknacks that had to be a nightmare to dust. Amid the various curios on the sideboard was a large, gold-framed photo. Lara stared at it, and the face of a little boy stared back at her. Dark blond, maybe six years old, he had adorable brown eyes, freckles, and a gap-toothed smile. A memory tickled her brain, but it zoomed out of reach before she could snag it.
The table was covered with a white cloth that looked more like a sheet than a tablecloth. Atop the table were a dozen or so leaves, maybe eight inches long, that were laid out flat, their edges dry and curled. Next to the leaves were glass jars labeled with the names of various herbs and spices—cardamom, cloves, lavender. A cardboard box about the size of a dictionary rested on the edge of the table. Was it at this table where Felicia blended her wonderful teas?
The cat had taken refuge beneath the h
utch. Slowly, Lara set down her carrier and lowered herself to her knees. She spoke soothingly to him, hoping she could entice him into her arms, but the cat didn’t budge. After several tries, she turned to Felicia. “Can you get me a bit more of that tuna?”
For a second or two, Felicia froze, then, “Tuna? Oh yes, of course.” She turned and went into the kitchen.
Moments later, Lara heard the metallic sound of a pop-top being torn from a can. Felicia returned with a small paper bowl containing a few shreds of tuna.
Lara placed some of the tuna in the palm of her hand and held it out to the kitty. He sniffed the air, then began inching toward her. Then—yes, finally!—he gobbled it from her hand, licking his lips when he was through.
“Good job,” Felicia murmured.
Lara opened her carrier and set down the tuna at the back. The cat moved toward it, and Lara gave him an encouraging nudge. The cat scooted inside, and she quickly closed the door, zipping him in.
“You did it,” Felicia said, lightly clapping her hands.
Lara rose off the floor and smiled. “Wasn’t so hard, really. A hungry kitty can usually be enticed with tuna. Thanks for trapping him, Felicia. If no one comes forward to claim him, we’ll be sure he gets a good home.” She lifted the carrier, and as she started toward the kitchen, the corner of the carrier caught the edge of the box on the table. The box toppled to the floor, scaring the cat, who yowled from his temporary prison.
“It’s okay, sweetie, just an accident,” Lara cooed to him. “Sorry, Felicia, I’ll clean up all this stuff.”
The box had spilled its contents. Felicia had already dropped to her hands and knees and was scrambling to retrieve it all. Her face was flushed bright red, and her eyes flashed with anger. Lara set down the carrier and bent to help her, until she realized what she was looking at.