“No, not at all. My granddad is a pipe smoker. And my grandmother was a two-pack a day smoker before she…” I reeled myself in before I could add that Gram had died from lung cancer.
The redhead laughed good-naturedly. “It’s okay. I’ve heard all of the bad stuff they say to smokers. I usually can control my habit, but at one of these things, I think I deserve to indulge.”
I held out my hand. “Becca Reynolds.”
“Emily Dickinson Smith. Glad to meet you.”
I could tell she was waiting for me to say something stupid about her name. No way.
Instead, I led with the brilliant statement, “So Ms. Smith, that accent of yours sounds even more southern than Richmond. I gather you’re not from around here?”
She shook her head.
“No. I’m up from Atlanta. Edna’s my sister. My older sister,” she added. “And call me Emily.”
“So Robert was your brother-in-law. I’m sorry for your loss.” I could manage a polite conversation. I knew I could. I just had to try harder.
Emily took a long puff from her cigarette. “If you can keep a secret, Becca, Robert’s death is probably a blessing.”
Shocked, I leaned forward. “What do you mean?”
“He wasn’t a very nice man. At least not where my sister was concerned. No, Robert was a real dick.”
Huh. Another Dick. This one an honorary member of the fraternity. I felt really uncomfortable but wanted to know more. “In what way was he a - you know?”
“Oh, honey, in every way. The man hit on me during their wedding reception! That was my first clue he was a loser. My opinion of him went downhill from there. The only person Robert O’Malley was capable of loving was Robert O’Malley. Now that someone has done Edna the grand favor of doing away with him, maybe she can have a life. A real life. A life where she’ll be truly happy instead of simply existing.” Emily Dickinson Smith took one last puff from her cigarette before extinguishing it in a nearby planter. “Come on. Let’s rejoin the party and see if we can breathe some life into this crowd of gloomy Gerts.”
Something was compelling about Emily that pulled me toward her. Unlike her namesake, she was no shrinking violet content to be alone. In different circumstances, I could see her being the life of the party.
Then it hit me. One more person with a grudge against Robert O’Malley.
Chapter 7
Once inside, Emily approached an older version of herself. “Becca, this is my mother, Louisa.” Emily took her mother’s arm and hugged her close.
“Pleased to meet you, ma’am,” I allowed myself to be drawn into the Smiths’ inner circle.
“Well, aren’t you a pretty little thing.” Louisa Smith, a lovely well-preserved blonde in her mid-sixties who closely resembled her daughter, Edna, studied me carefully, making me feel more than a bit self-conscious.
“Mother, Emily, what are you doing?” Edna St. Vincent O’Malley came to my rescue. “Leave Becca alone.”
“Why do you always assume that we’re doing anything?” Emily replied with a wicked grin.
“Because I know both of you.”
Turning toward me, Edna said, “I hope my mother and sister haven’t been giving you the third degree.”
I shook my head no. “Not at all. I met your sister when she was out on the porch…” Too late I saw Emily trying to get my attention.
“Emily! You promised me that you’d stop that filthy habit of yours,” Louisa Smith chastised.
I did have a way of throwing not just myself under the bus, but innocent bystanders, as well.
“Funerals stress me out. I needed a little relief. Since I knew Edna wouldn’t have any pot around, I had to settle for a regular cigarette.”
“Emily Dickinson Smith! I will not hear talk of drugs.”
Turning to me, Louisa announced, “Emily is the rebel of the family. She delights in saying outrageous things. Mostly I suspect it’s to get a rise out of me. As you can see, it works every time.”
“So, are you a friend of the family?” Emily asked me, no doubt in an attempt to change the subject.
“Becca works for Robert’s therapist. She was the one who found him.” Edna choked the last few words out and fingered the strand of pearls encircling her neck.
“Oh my! You poor dear,” Louisa clucked. “That must have been quite a shock for you.”
“It wasn’t pleasant. I mean all of that blood.” Would I never shut up and realize my place? “I’m sorry, Mrs. O’Malley.” My cheeks burned, and Edna quickly retreated to attend to another guest, probably figuring the more distance she put between us the better.
“I’m so sorry,” I repeated to Emily and Louisa.
Louisa took my cold hand in hers and pressed lightly. “Don’t fret, dear heart. Edna needs to come to grips with Robert’s murder. If not you, then someone else would have brought it up. She’s always liked to be sheltered from unpleasantness. Now the rest of the children aren’t like that, are they Emily?”
“No. Edna was always the sensitive one. I never could understand how she could pass over Dick Daley for Robert O’Malley.” Emily glanced at the far side of the room where Edna and Dr. Daley were deep in conversation.
“Edna knows Dr. Daley?” I asked, unable to hide my surprise.
“Knows him? They were practically engaged, weren’t they, Mother? At least before Edna fell for that jerk Robert,” Emily said shaking her head. “Now that Robert is out of the way….”
“Emily, I do declare. Where are your manners? I will not have you talking about your deceased brother-in-law, and on the day of his funeral, with such disrespect.”
I took in the information about Dr. Daley and couldn’t bring myself to take my eyes off of him and Edna.
Practically engaged before Edna had met and married Robert O’Malley? And yet, Dr. Daley had treated Robert O’Malley. Very strange.
“Did Mr. O’Malley know about the relationship?” I dared to ask.
“Know? Of course, he knew. Edna made sure that he knew. In fact, for the first appointment, Dick came here to the house. From what I understand Edna told him in front of Robert that he was the only one who could help her husband and save her marriage. Poor Dick. He was torn. If he still didn’t love Edna so much, I expect he would have said no. But that man can never say no where my sister is concerned. Why I expect he’d even kill for her, if she asked him,” Emily said with smug satisfaction.
“Emily Dickinson Smith! Look what you’ve done. You’ve upset Becca. Why Becca is as pale as a white sheet that’s just been bleached by the sun. Please forgive my daughter and her bluntness. She knows better than to give away family secrets.” Mrs. Smith patted my arm.
“Oh, nothing to forgive. I had no idea there was such a connection.”
“Of course you didn’t. Edna and Dick have been friends since college. I’ll admit I was a bit sad when my daughter brought home that Yankee O’Malley boy, but she did seem to love him. But what is life without love?” Mrs. Smith sighed.
I didn’t know what to say.
Emily looked bored and ready to move on.
Before she could leave our little threesome, a handsome man in a black tailored suit joined us. “Mama, there you are. I’ve been looking all over for you.”
Louisa Smith positively beamed at a good-looking man of about forty. “Becca, this is my son Ezra, Ezra Pound.”
I did a slight double-take.
What was it with this woman and dead poets? First, Edna St. Vincent O’Malley, then Emily Dickinson Smith and now Ezra Pound.
Sensing my confusion, Ezra held out his hand to me, “That would be Ezra Smith. My mother has a particular fondness for poetry. Especially when she’s in the family way. Just so you’re not taken further aback by the Smith clan, over there are two of our other siblings, the twins, Elizabeth Barrett and Robert Browning Smith.” Ezra’s face broke into an impish grin and waited for my reaction.
I laughed, maybe a bit too loud. I really didn’t handle situ
ations like this too well. But at least I hadn’t said anything awkward. I hadn’t blurted out that it was the most idiotic thing I’d ever heard. Yay, me. “Well, that’s…unusual.” That wasn’t rude, was it?
“Not unusual at all. Memorable,” Louisa stated.
Okay, maybe it was rude.
“I’m so sorry. About being rude, I mean. Not about your unusual names. I mean, your not-unusual names.” Talk about stepping in it with both feet.
Ezra, bless him, helped smooth over the moment. “Mama, tell Becca what your full name is,” he prompted, a smile playing about his lips.
Mrs. Smith drew herself up to her full height of just a tad over five feet and said, “I’d be happy to. Louisa Mae Alcott Smith.”
“Ahh…” My mind went blank. Totally empty. I buried my nose in my glass of wine, praying I wouldn’t choke.
Emily and Ezra looked like they were having a blast at my expense. But Louisa’s face showed not an ounce of humor.
“I’m glad y’all think your heritage is so humorous,” Louisa reprimanded her grown children.
I felt the need to help out here. “Are you related in any way to the famous writer, Mrs. Smith?”
Louisa squared her shoulders. “I should say not, dear. We’re descended from the Atlanta Alcotts, a fine, proud Southern family. Not those Yankee Alcotts. Our Alcotts fought in The War, you know.”
“I understand. My granddad is a veteran, too.” I pointed my mostly empty wine glass in the direction of my grandfather who was busy chatting with several men who looked vaguely familiar.
All three Smiths looked at me like I was speaking in tongues. That’s when it hit me. “Oh, right. That war. I’m with you now.” I knew if I called it the Civil War we’d get into that whole done-to-death, “There was nothing civil about that war” or “we call it the War of Northern Aggression.”
Best not to go there. Ever.
“For some of us that war has never truly ended, dear,” Mrs. Smith announced gently.
I had no idea what to say.
For once, I thought silence might be golden. It was then that my grandfather decided to join our little group. “Granddad, there you are.”
“Saw you catch my eye and knew that you needed me. What can I do for you, sweetheart?”
Rather than answer his question, I decided to make the introductions and get them over with. “Granddad, I’d like you to meet Mrs. O’Malley’s mother, Louisa Smith, and Edna’s brother and sister, Ezra, and Emily.”
There I’d done it and not added on their quirky names. I was inordinately proud of myself for my discretion. But maybe I was congratulating myself just a bit prematurely.
After all, my grandfather and I can be painfully alike.
“Ezra, now that’s a strange name.” Oh, no, Granddad, don’t go there I silently prayed, but it was too late.
“Named after Ezra Pound,” Louisa Mae announced with pride.
“He’s dead,” my granddad said.
“Why yes, he is,” Louisa Mae answered.
“Hmmph.” Granddad made some unintelligible sound that could mean anything. Maybe I’d have to start employing something similar. It was a conversation stopper, that was for sure.
“Yes, we’re all named after dead poets,” Emily stated, quite delighted to be sharing this news once again.
Luckily, before we could go through it all over again, Edna reappeared. “Marty, I’m so glad you and Becca could join us. I see you’ve met my family.”
I had nothing to say, so I just smiled politely.
“All but Edgar Allan,” Emily said.
I watched as Edna’s face turned pale, and Louisa stared at the Williamsburg blue carpet.
“No, we haven’t met Edgar Allan, but we’d sure like to. Wouldn’t we, Becca?” Granddad squeezed my arm affectionately not picking up on the obvious clues. Now I knew where I got my denseness. The chip doesn’t land far from the block, especially with a dull ax.
Edna cleared her throat and twisted the strand of pearls until I was afraid they would break. “My brother is away.”
Emily chuckled to herself as if enjoying a private joke.
“I see nothing funny in that, Emily. Edgar Allan is away,” Edna restated rather emphatically.
“Yes, and with any luck, he’ll be back in two to five,” Emily added mischievously.
Granddad checked his watch.
“I don’t think we can stay that long. Our cat will be expecting supper before then. But maybe next time.”
Emily continued to enjoy her joke, but Edna and Louisa were only too happy to grab on to what my granddad misheard.
“I guess we’ll be going, then.” I linked my arm in Granddad’s and urged him to make his good-byes.
To my relief, he picked up on my silent cues. “It’s been nice meeting you all. Wish it had been under more pleasant circumstances. So sorry for your loss, Edna. Call me if you need anything. Anything at all.”
Opting for silence, I nodded to show my agreement and support. As we made our way through the crowd to the front entry hall, I spotted Jack again. And so did my Granddad. There was no love lost between those two.
“Davis, what are you doing here?” All of my granddad’s warmth and kindness evaporated.
“Didn’t Becca explain?” Jack arched an eyebrow at me and trotted out his golden smile. Not that it had the least effect on my grandfather, thank goodness. It was such a relief having someone in my corner, someone who saw through my ex.
“No, she didn’t explain. Why don’t you?” Granddad demanded, holding his ground and reminding me of a gunslinger ready to draw his weapon.
“I was Robert’s attorney,” Jack smiled that earnest smile that I detested so much. It fooled people into believing he actually cared about them instead of how much he could bill them. He’d used it on me when he’d explained why he’d taken me to the cleaners during our divorce. “My reputation is at stake,” he’d explained, smiling that perfect, sparkling, earnest smile of his. “What sort of lawyer would I be if I couldn’t even win a simple divorce case?” Jerk.
Granddad scowled like he was going to say something to Jack and then thought better of it. “Come on, Becca. I need some air, some fresh air.”
The tension was palpable.
I wanted to get Granddad out of there before he decked Jack. Not that I had any desire to protect my ex-husband. I just didn’t want my grandfather duking it out with a man forty years his junior.
I opened the front door just as the doorbell rang and took a step back shocked at the identity of the latest visitor to the O’Malley house.
“Anna?” What the heck was she doing here? Anna Blake was one of Daley & Palmer’s patients. And she was in a state that I didn’t think either psychiatrist would approve of. Reeking of alcohol and weaving unsteadily on her feet, Anna tried to shove past us into the house.
“Move out of my way, Becca.” Anna swept her arm through the air as if clearing a table, every movement exaggerated.
My granddad reached out to steady her.
“Leave me alone.” She pulled her baby blue knit sweater tight around her body and careened into the door. Granddad tried to keep her on her feet despite her protests. “Didn’t ya hear me, old man? Leave me alone.” She drew out the last word until it sounded five syllables long.
As for Granddad, when she called him an old man she was on her own, chivalry or not. He wasn’t having much luck with keeping her upright anyway.
Edna appeared in the doorway and all of the color drained from her powdered face, her refined features hardening. “And who might you be?”
I had a feeling even though they’d never met formally, Edna knew exactly who Anna Blake was, if not by name. If looks could kill, Anna would be lying dead on the porch at Edna O’Malley’s feet.
“I loved Robert. And he loved me. He was going to marry me.” Anna bobbed back and forth like someone who had been advised that a moving target was harder to hit. “Loved him, do you hear? And he loved me.” She r
amped up her volume to a screeching level that made me think the neighborhood dogs were going to appear any second.
I took Anna’s arm in an attempt to turn her around. “Don’t do this. Not here. Not today,” I implored with the calmest outside or inside voice I could summon.
She swatted my arm away like she would an insect. I was surprised at her strength. Anna Blake couldn’t weigh more than a hundred and ten pounds, but today the liquor – and her grief - had fortified her with the power of someone twice her size. I couldn’t hold on to her.
Her arm continued its sweeping movement and connected with Edna’s shoulder, knocking the bereaved widow back a pace. The crowd of mourners who had gathered behind Edna and my granddad inhaled collectively.
“Get off of my property before I summon the authorities,” Edna spoke in a low, controlled tone that left no room for argument. At least no room for a sober person to argue. But then, Anna wasn’t sober. Or rational.
“You wouldn’t give my Robert a divorce. So you killed him. You killed my Robert.” Anna screamed so loud and hard I was afraid she’d burst a lung. She lunged toward Edna, attempting to strike the widow.
Granddad and I tried our best to grab a hold of her arms but she was flailing like an octopus. Arms everywhere. If asked by the police how many arms I was fighting, I’d have to say at least five. Anna’s hand wrapped around my short blonde hair and pulled. Hard.
“Holy Smoley, Anna, let go of my damn hair.” I released the arm I had finally corralled and pried her fingers out of my hair, one finger at a time.
She turned on me like a rabid animal, her fingers outstretched with their long blood-red nails aiming for my eyes. Girl fight! my brain screamed at me.
Being the brave soul that I am, I immediately went into a tuck and covered my face with my arms waiting for the blows to rain down on me. But they didn’t come.
When I peeked out between my crossed arms and untucked, I realized Granddad and Dr. Daley had pinned Anna’s arms behind her back. I wondered if Dr. Daley traveled with a straitjacket in the trunk of his car, and thought if he didn’t an episode like today should convince him that it might be a good idea.
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