“Of course, we would be honored,” Ronnie said finally, “but are non-Jewish people allowed to do this?”
“I’ve discussed it with Rabbi Saks. He’s familiar with your family, and though it’s a bit unorthodox he has no objections.”
“Well…” Ronnie looked at Gina again, “I suppose if your rabbi doesn’t object, we will do it.” Inside, however, Ronnie’s stomach roiled at the thought of saying or doing something disrespectful by accident. She pressed her hands to her sides and hoped being an official mourner would required very little of her.
Lorraine’s glassy eyes smiled, and the woman sniffled. “Oh, thank you, dears, this means so much to me. Laney would be honored to see you two here for her.” Her face suddenly soured. “Now, take off your shoes.”
“Excuse me?” Ronnie looked down at her pumps. Right, no leather.
Lorraine then handed each of them a tissue from her pocket. “The eye shadow has to go as well. This should work fine.” She turned to a tall, bearded gentleman emerging from the shadows of the inner sanctum. “Rabbi Saks, these are the Alger girls who will be sitting with me today.”
Discreet handshakes made the rounds, and Rabbi Saks suggested that the women take their seats so the service could begin.
“Before we do, though,” he said, paused, and reached for Gina. In one swift motion he pinched a piece of her blouse and rent a small tear, prompting a surprised gasp. Solemnly he repeated the process for Lorraine and Ronnie, turned, and walked away.
Ronnie stared, shocked, at the rip in the bodice of her dress, and let Lorraine guide her to their seats. I will keep my hands at my sides, and I will not do anything stupid…
~ * ~
When the service ended, Ronnie and Gina eased through the crowd outside, which appeared to have swelled since their arrival, and walked straight to the car. Lorraine and Danny followed close behind them.
“We’ll see you at the house, dears,” Lorraine told them as she eased herself into the Porsche’s passenger seat with a wince. Her voice had an edge to it that Ronnie could not ignore, and it bothered her the entire drive back to Ash Lake. She sensed in Lorraine’s speech that they would be counted on to do more than act as official mourners.
Gina concurred. “I was hoping it was just her grief, but I get the impression Lorraine wants us to do some investigating at this thing. I certainly hope that’s not why she asked us to stand in for absent family.”
Ronnie shook her head and idly touched the rip in her dress. “No, I think she was really sincere about that. Allayne had no family other than Lorraine, and though I find it amusing that Lorraine would count us as close friends despite having had little contact with Allayne in so many years, I’m still touched by the gesture.”
“That Nora woman didn’t look too happy to see us sitting up front.” Gina rolled her eyes.
“Not much we can do there.” Ronnie closed her eyes and pictured the daggers aimed at them, shot from Nora’s cool, scowling appraisal. Why Lorraine had included the fan club president on a list of possible suspects was baffling. From what little she knew about Nora, it would appear the woman would be more apt to kill everyone around Allayne, in order to keep her guarded, as protective about the actress’s life as she seemed.
“Hey, you think we’ll get in trouble if I put my shoes back on, just to drive?” Gina lifted her right foot. “These pedals are going to tear runs in my hose.”
“I won’t tell if you won’t.” Per their role as mourners, Lorraine had instructed them that for the next seven days, in addition to no leather shoes and makeup, they should not cut their hair, bathe, or engage in intimate relations.
Ronnie thought of Lew and winced. No problem in that department, she thought wryly.
Gina’s mind, however, was still on Lorraine. “I mean, we’re not the Bobbsey Twins, for crying out loud! I don’t know what she expects.” She looked at Ronnie. “Do you still have that cookie?”
“It hasn’t moved from my dresser,” Ronnie said. “A few more days, and it’ll turn green and fuzzy. I’ll probably have invented a new flavor.”
“Maybe we should just tell Lorraine we had it tested and found nothing unusual,” Gina posed. “Maybe she’ll just accept that Allayne died because she was sick.”
Ronnie’s eyebrows rose. “My sister wants to lie to a grieving woman.”
“I don’t think we’d be lying,” Gina said defensively. “The more I think about it, nothing foul happened. This way we’ll be saving ourselves the trouble of a goose chase.”
“Sure, why not?” Ronnie shrugged. “Let’s get it out the way so we can relax and enjoy the shivah.”
A jab to the shoulder. Ronnie rubbed the sore spot and glared at Gina.
~ * ~
By the time they reached the turnoff to Two Witt, the long driveway to the house was bloated with parked cars. Gina slowed to one side, triggered the turn signal, and waited.
“You gotta be kidding me,” Gina wailed. “We have to park all the way out here and walk to the house?”
“Without shoes,” Ronnie reminded her. “On gravel. Both ways.”
Gina huffed and shed her pumps.
The lengthy driveway, upon closer inspection, had indeed become a makeshift parking lot. Ronnie removed the bolero jacket she wore and draped it over her arm for the quarter-mile walk so she would not look like she had stepped out of a sauna fully-clothed. Sharp gravel pebbles cut the soles of her feet, and white dust colored her hose as they hiked the distance, examining the cars. Some, she noticed, looking at the license plates, had driven all the way from Volusia County and Tampa to pay their last respects.
Gina pointed to a yellow pickup truck, filmy with dust. “Fulton County, Georgia. How about that?” she said. “Somebody drove six hours from Atlanta to be here.”
“Big deal. The Pope’s flying all the way from Rome to canonize Lorena.”
“True,” Gina nodded, “but that’s hardly a solemn occasion.”
“Game, set, match, Gina Hayes.”
In the course of two days, Allayne’s home had morphed from pastel palace to a study in funereal black. Heavy black cloth concealed the large mirror situated above the living room mantel, covering also Allayne’s acting awards and whatever framed photos were interspersed between them. Another swatch was draped over the oil painting hanging on the perpendicular wall.
Gina gestured to the oval mirror in the foyer, also concealed. “It’s customary to do this during the period of mourning,” Gina explained to her sister. “When you mourn, you’re not supposed to be concerned with your own vanity.”
This Ronnie knew, and she moved closer to her sister, trying to ignore the odd looks from other guests as they took in her bare feet and rent bodice. “Why hide the painting?” Ronnie asked. “Are we not allowed to appreciate fine art, either?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t get to do much research on the Net last night because Bill’s mother called and disrupted the connection. Kept him up until midnight talking about a town full of people he hasn’t seen in twenty years.”
“Ah.” Ronnie elected to let the subject rest. Gina’s mother-in-law was always a sore spot. They needed to concentrate on right now.
Easing through the throng of mourners filing in and out of the living room, foyer, and Allayne’s spacious dining room was Lew, a formidable sight in his dress blues. Ronnie felt her breath catch as she drank in the sight of him. He had shaved and trimmed the unruly edges of his mustache, which was peppered with a few gray hairs to match those on his sideburns. Under his furrowed brow, two brown eyes appeared bolder than Ronnie had ever seen them. Ronnie wondered if it was the uniform that enhanced his chiseled face and eyes, but as he approached she could clearly see his tightened jaw. He did not want to be there.
“Ladies,” he greeted the sisters in a civil voice. “Was there a scuffle outside?”
Ronnie realized he was looking at their torn garments and feet, and quickly explained that they had taken on the official mourning role.
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“We missed you at the funeral, Lew,” Gina said, offering the sheriff a good-natured pat on the shoulder. Lew appeared to warm to the touch, which annoyed Ronnie. Why not? Apparently he had long forgiven Gina’s refusal to hop in the sack with him.
“That’s because I’ve been here for much of the morning,” Lew grumbled. “Seems that the Allayne Witt camp got it into their heads that the Ash Lake Police Department also doubles as personal security when the need arises. Miss Daily actually had Dwayne at the door, checking names.”
“We didn’t see Dwayne when we were coming in.”
“That’s because I put him back to work, protecting and serving,” Lew nearly exploded; his voice lowered after turning a few heads. “When they want to pay his salary he can take tickets and serve drinks, for all I care. Dwayne works for the town, and Miss Daily doesn’t even live here.”
Ronnie nodded. That explained the gatecrashers in T-shirts and shorts now picking through the buffet table ahead of them. “And you’re still here because…?” she prodded.
Lew sighed. “I compromised by agreeing to make my presence known for a while, but I won’t stay much longer. I liked Allayne, but I have a job to do, too.” With that, he stalked away, leaving Gina and Ronnie to look at each other with quizzical brows.
“O-kay,” Gina said. “I get the impression something more than being treated as an overpaid gopher is bothering him.”
Three guesses. “So, where do we sit?” Ronnie asked. Before leaving the synagogue, Lorraine had instructed the sisters that they would be obliged to sit with her on some low chairs set up for the occasion, in order to receive sympathies. Looking around the crowded house, Ronnie saw no such setup. “Perhaps it’s because the chairs are so low we can’t see them for the people,” she said to Gina.
“Don’t get smart now,” Gina snapped. “Hopefully it will be okay to get food first. I’m starving.”
They started for the dining room, where lavish arrays of food had been arranged on the main dining table and smaller tables. Ronnie recognized a number of faces from the service, as well as some veteran Southwest Memorial cast members who had enjoyed front burner stories when Ronnie was a more avid viewer. Hairstyles had changed, skin had either sagged or tightened, but all appeared weary and stricken underneath the cloud of their co-star’s passing.
“Do you suppose—” Ronnie turned toward her sister, but found herself alone in the crowd. A quick glance toward the buffet told her that Lorraine had already spotted Gina and was guiding her back to the living room, presumably to sit and receive guests.
Ronnie ducked behind a pair dressed in Brantwood and Bethany T-shirts, hoping not yet to be seen. She pushed her way gently to the main table but was stilled by a hand to her shoulder before she could select even one morsel of food. She craned her neck as a paper cup filled with soda crossed her line of vision. The sapphire in Danny Cushing’s college ring glistened in the overhead track lighting.
“You look like you could use something stronger, but this is all we have,” he said with a grim smile.
Ronnie gratefully took the cup. The soda was flat, but a welcome relief for her parched throat.
“I never got the chance to thank you and your sister for agreeing to join Lorraine in her mourning,” he continued. “That was a very nice thing to do.”
“Not a problem, and I thought you did a wonderful job with the Kaddish. You’ll have to forgive me, though. I had no idea you were Jewish.”
“Half-Jewish, actually, on my mother’s side. My father was raised Baptist but leaned more toward Unitarianism, and he didn’t object to us going through Hebrew school and all that.”
“I see. Well, I think Allayne would have been pleased.”
“Allayne,” Danny chuckled. “Allayne would have wondered what the hell we were doing in that synagogue.” He waved his own cup around the room. “Somehow, though, she would have appreciated this chaos more. Anything that got under her mother’s skin, she relished.”
“Oh, I don’t think it will be as bad as all that today,” Ronnie said. “From what I’ve been hearing since I got here, these people really adored her. They’re not going to tear up the house or steal things. I think they respect her memory too much to be destructive.”
Danny appeared to agree, but sighed deeply and added, “I suppose it’s a small comfort to know that Allayne didn’t keep anything of value in this house, too. Lorraine had the entire upstairs sealed off, just in case.” He gestured back to the main staircase, which Ronnie noticed was cordoned off by a small privacy gate. Not exactly high-tech security, but she did see that nobody dared cross it.
“Perhaps you should be more concerned about the downstairs toilet holding up.” Ronnie was unable to hide her smile, and she was relieved to see Danny respond in kind. The gesture took years off his countenance, and Ronnie wondered for a moment why the handsome blond gentleman chose a career behind the scenes rather than in front of the camera.
“Thank you, I needed that,” he said politely. “I’ll see you back at the front?”
“Yes.”
Danny nodded and retreated toward the living room, stopping to converse with one of Allayne’s co-stars. A twinge of sadness and guilt flittered in Ronnie’s stomach as she watched him. There was no mistaking the unshed tears reflected in the man’s eyes, and Ronnie could not help but think if Danny’s relationship with Allayne had transcended business. She decided to think of a tactful way to broach the subject when they next spoke as she snatched a plate for the buffet.
She ambled slowly in line, cherry-picking from a selection of raw vegetables, cheeses, and casseroles, when the charcoal suit in front of her broke free to reveal a familiar head of billowing red hair. The woman, her back still turned to Ronnie as she reached for a napkin, was sheathed in a form-fitting black dress that ended at her knees.
Ronnie stepped forward, recognizing her former student… and Landon Dennis’s ex-girlfriend. “Jeanette?”
Jeanette Holley turned slowly around, her somber expression widening into an elated grin. “Professor Lord, it’s so great to see you!” she squealed. Then, more quietly, “It’s too bad we had to meet up like this, huh?”
Ronnie agreed. “I never expected to see you here. I thought you had gone to Nashville to work on your singing career.” Against the advice of many of her teachers, Jeanette had left FCCJ early to pursue her dream of country music stardom.
“I did, and it’s coming along, slowly but surely,” Jeanette said, hope coloring her face. “I’m burning up the stage at the Wild Horse Saloon on Karaoke Night, anyway. Plus I’m working the front office desk at the Country Music Hall of Fame now. You wouldn’t believe the contacts I’m making.” She giggled as she reached into her purse. “And, I’m a card-carrying member of the Allayne Witt Fan Club, too. I’m staying with my friend Melissa in Fernandina, and heading back home tomorrow.”
“Well, I hope everything works out for you, and if you ever decide to go back to school up there, let me know.” Ronnie’s smile was genuine. Jeanette had been one of her more memorable students, though not the best. Still, she had to admire someone willing to take such a risk to be happy.
I’m certainly not one to talk, Ronnie thought.
Jeanette rolled her eyes. “Oh, I would go back to school if I had the time, but there’s so much work at the Hall, and I’m taking voice lessons. You know, Faith Hill was working in an office when she was discovered, so why not…”
The girl’s voice faded away, and she cast a puzzled glance over Ronnie’s shoulder.
“What is it?” Ronnie looked around her. Had the looting begun?
“Oh! Can you believe he showed up here?” Jeanette spat. “That boy’s never watched an episode of Southwest Memorial in his life, how dare he come here and mooch off Allayne’s mom.”
“Who? Who’s here?”
Jeanette, however, did not have to answer the question. Ronnie turned toward the hallway opening into the living room and saw the lanky youth clad in jeans
and a white long-sleeved shirt, a Dale Earnhardt, Jr. ball cap curled in one fist, the other clamped around a cup.
“Well, at least the jeans are black,” Ronnie offered.
Jeanette huffed; it was clear to Ronnie that the two had not mended their differences following Landon’s last brush with the law. “Whatever. Hey, Professor Lord, if I don’t see you again today it was really good talking with you. I just don’t want to deal with Landon right now, especially when he’s crashing Allayne Witt’s wake. I mean, how rude is that?”
Mystery Bundle (Saints Preserve Us, Pray For Us Sinners, Murder Most Trivial) Page 31