by C Farren
“And Uncle Brian said my mother might be alive?” Maureen had asked.
Wren had nodded. “Possibly. We might never know.”
“If she really cared for me, she would’ve turned up after Dad died. She’s dead.”
There was a polite knock at the door. Wren sighed. She was in a hurry. She didn’t have time for visitors.
It was Pilar.
“Can we talk?” Pilar asked politely.
“Sure,” said Wren. “Come in.”
She shook her head. “I can’t stop. Jose and Javier are in the car. I just wanted to thank you for what you said to my son. He told me last night about the fire and the blackmail, and how you stopped him from confessing.” She sighed. “I wish he’d told me earlier, but I’m glad he had you to confide in. Thank you. I just don’t know what we’re going to do about it now. I know he killed Maureen, but it wasn’t his fault. Someone made him do it.”
“I’m sure it will all be sorted out.”
Pilar gave her a quick, stiff hug, which surprised Wren. She didn’t seem the hugging type.
“Can I ask you a quick question?” said Wren.
Pilar looked at her watch impatiently. “Okay.”
“Javier told me about the break-in. Are you absolutely sure you didn’t leave your van unlocked?”
Pilar said, “I always lock my van. I always do it.”
“Then how did they break in?”
Pilar shrugged. “I don’t know. I only have one key, and I keep that in my bag at all times.” Jose honked the car horn. “I better get going. See you at the funeral.” She pulled a face. “It really smells of cats in here. Call me if you need anything cleaned up.”
Pilar walked away, and Wren closed the door.
Someone must have taken it from Pilar’s bag, stolen the cleaning supplies, and put the key back without nobody noticing.
“Can I dress up as someone else for the funeral?” Paula asked.
Wren had forgotten Paula was even there.
“I think we can do something,” said Wren. “How about a wig?”
Chapter 26
Snowflake Bay had a large funeral plot behind their Pentecostal church. Everyone who had died in town over the past couple of hundred years was buried there. For the last few decades cremation had become more common as land ran out, but they were giving Maureen a proper, extravagant burial. She deserved to be the center of attention for once.
“How are you, Wren my dear?” Pastor Jeremiah Ivory asked.
Wren was the first to arrive at the church. The inside was small but comfy, with rows of pews and a small pulpit at the front. Pastor Jeremiah Ivory was Wanda’s eldest son, a kind gentleman with white hair and a big pot belly. Wren didn’t know him that well, mainly because she’d given up on church a long time ago.
“I’m doing okay,” Wren answered. “Hopefully today will give us the break we need.”
Sheriff Fisher had deemed it important that the pastor know of their plan. He didn’t want to upset God by tricking the vicar. Wren understood. The pastor might even be able to help them in the end.
“Are we really expecting the killer to turn up today?” the pastor asked.
“It’s just a chance we have to take,” said Wren.
“The things going on in this town of late have shocked even me.”
He was right. They’d had quite a few murders of late, and Wren had been partially involved in all them.
“I know you may not want to hear this, but you’re doing God’s work,” said the pastor, smiling. “You’re keeping this town safe from people who would do it harm, even if one of those people are related to me.”
“Becky,” said Wren uncomfortably.
“I pray for her soul every day.”
What would the pastor say if she could present him with firm, hard evidence that angels existed? Would that shatter his world, or would he merely shrug with a knowing smile?
Wren’s thoughts were interrupted as more people started to arrive. Soon enough, the whole place was packed. There were even people standing at the back. Maureen would be glad to know how many people actually cared about her.
“Hello,” a voice announced. Wren smiled as Michael Frost walked up to them. “I’m Maureen’s cousin, Michael.”
Pastor Jeremiah eyed her suspiciously. “I didn’t know Maureen had a cousin.”
“We lost touch,” said Michael sadly.
“I’m glad you could come.”
Michael winked at Wren and sat down on the front row, next to her Uncle Brian. He gave her a brief look before training his eyes back onto the coffin at the front of the room.
“Hi,” said Wren, shaking hands with Brian. “I’m Maureen’s friend, Wren King.”
Brian nodded. “What you’re doing for her is miraculous. She always wanted a best friend like you.”
“I’d do anything for her,” Wren said emotionally. “She is... was a wonderful person.”
“I hope whoever did this to her burns in hell.”
On the front row on the left side sat Maureen’s neighbors. Ginger was dressed all in black, a veil over her face and a small black hat sitting perched on her head. Pilar and Jose were wearing more formal clothing, though still in black. Javier had gone for something different, something that respected Maureen as the eccentric wonder she was.
Wren laughed. “I love it, Javier. Maureen would love it.”
Javier was wearing black trousers and a t-shirt with a giant ginger cat’s face on it.
“I know that Maureen, wherever she is, would appreciate it,” said Javier.
Pilar shook her head. “You don’t wear t-shirts to a funeral. It’s just not on.”
“Let him wear what he wants,” Jose groaned.
Ginger turned to them, angry. “Don’t argue, on today of all days. Please have some respect.”
“Why are you wearing a veil and acting like it’s your husband who’s died?” Pilar demanded. “You look silly.”
Ginger turned away and ignored her. Pilar smirked.
Wren sat down next to Brian, looking behind her to see who else had arrived. Uncle Camden and Aunt Jenny; Reba; Aarna and Reo; Benedict and Paula were sat behind her, Paula wearing a neon-blue wig that made her look like an anime character. Wanda was with her family, or those who still lived in Snowflake Bay, which was quite a lot. Ginger’s boyfriend Ryan was even there, standing at the back. When he caught her looking, he gave her a friendly wave. She ignored him. There were a few people she didn’t recognize, including a man sat on the back row.
Could one of these people be the killer? Could one of them be Maureen’s sibling?
She studied the man a bit more. He looked about forty, with thick brown hair, receding at the front. He didn’t look like Maureen, but sometimes siblings didn’t look like each other. They did have different mothers after all.
Wren got up and walked over to him.
“Hi,” said Wren, introducing herself. “I’m Wren, Maureen’s best friend. I organized the funeral. You are?”
“Rene Blackstock,” said the man, shaking her hand.
“How do you know Maureen?” Wren asked.
“She helped me out when I really needed it. I’d lost my job and I couldn’t afford to feed my family. She expedited my unemployment checks so we wouldn’t go without. I’m not sure what would’ve happened if she hadn’t done that.” He indicated the other strangers sat near him. “These are all people Maureen helped. Most of us would’ve ended up on the streets if it wasn’t for her.”
She was about to inquire more when a couple hanging around outside the church caught her attention. One of them was in a wheelchair. The other was smoking a hand-rolled cigarette and looking shifty.
They shouldn’t be here!
Wren marched up to them. “I thought you’d be in jail.”
“Maureen is dead,” said Rosa. Her eyes were red, like she’d been crying. “There’s nothing to charge me with now.”
Sebastian Barr said, “I just wanted to pa
y my regards.”
They really did look sad. Still, Wren was apprehensive. They’d caused Maureen so much trouble in the past. They shouldn’t be at Maureen’s funeral.
“Don’t cause any trouble,” she warned them. “But go in anyway. It’s cold out here.”
“I’ve been thinking,” said Rosa. “What I did to Maureen was wrong. I should never have spent all those years stalking her.”
“It’s okay, sweetie,” said Sebastian.
Rosa shook her head. “It’s not okay. She deserved better than this. Now that she’s dead I’ve realized I wasted so much time hating her. I’m an idiot.”
Sebastian threw his cigarette on the floor and stamped it out before pushing Rosa inside. The doors closed behind them, leaving Wren outside on her own.
“Everyone is here,” she whispered. “But is the killer here?”
There were footsteps behind her. It was Sheriff Fisher and Deputy Stark.
“Well?” the sheriff asked. “What have you observed?”
“We watched everyone come in from across the street,” said Deputy Stark. “Apart from Maureen’s stalker turning up, we saw nothing out of the ordinary.”
“I still don’t trust Rosa and Sebastian,” Wren admitted. “They lied to me so much. How do I not know they’re not still lying?”
“Just keep watching,” the sheriff advised. “Watch and wait.”
Wren opened the doors and headed inside. Her mother was stood at the back, looking uncomfortable pressed in-between all the people who Maureen had helped at the unemployment office. Brock wasn’t here. He was staying back at home, looking after Gracie. In the end she had to order him to keep back. She didn’t want him wading in and revealing his true nature in front of dozens of funeral goers.
Pastor Jeremiah was reading his Bible as she walked up to him. “I think everyone is here,” she whispered.
“The killer as well?” he said.
She shrugged. “Maybe.”
The only people on her radar were Rosa and Sebastian. She glared at them, daring them to reveal something, anything, that would mark them out as killers. It had to be them. Nobody else was acting like they were guilty.
Are they acting guilty because they treated Maureen badly, or because they think they killed her?
She looked across at Javier. Did he kill Maureen? Did Jose kill Maureen to stop her from telling his family he was unemployed? Did Pilar kill Maureen? What about Ginger? What about Ryan? What if it was one of the strangers? And which one of them had either killed Keegan or taken him hostage? And where could Keegan be kept hostage in such a small town?
The bagpipes started, a stirring rendition of a classic Scottish funeral song. It was called The Dark Island, though she couldn’t be sure. She put her hands in her lap and looked at the oak funeral casket in front of her. It was time.
Chapter 27
The service was lovely. The pastor spoke some very kind words about Maureen, touching on her kind heart, love for cats, and her sense of humor. He’d obviously done his research. Wren had looked around during that time, noting how others responded, but nobody reacted negatively to the praise. Javier’s poem was beautiful, driving many of the congregation to tears, including Ginger, who howled out in grief after he was finished. She must really miss Maureen.
She’ll be glad to know she had a true friend living so close all along.
Wren shook hands with every person that left the church. She looked them in the eye. She felt the palms of their hands for sweating, a sure sign that they were nervous. Nothing was out of the ordinary. Even Rosa appeared genuinely distraught over Maureen’s death. The only person who didn’t reveal any emotion was Sebastian. He still looked like he didn’t care either way.
The last person to leave was Brian. She shook hands with Brian and promised to call him later in the day. She hoped her friend got to know her uncle. She needed some family around her. A trip to Hawaii might be in the offing too.
“What do you think?” Wren asked.
Maureen scratched at her beard and said, “I didn’t realize there’d be so many people here. I thought people only tolerated me because they had to. I know I can be difficult to know.”
“Difficult, but worth it.” Maureen blushed, and Wren said, “Did you notice anything odd during the service?”
“I looked back at Mr. Barr a few times. He seemed... nervous. He kept looking around, as if expecting something to happen. I’d say he was always like that, but I’d be wrong. He always seemed like the kind of person who wasn’t bothered about anything.” She thought a moment and then said, “I saw him smoking outside the church too. He gave up smoking years ago. Made us sponsor him for charity and everything. He must be really be nervous to start smoking again.”
Wren had noticed this too. There was something off about him. When she looked at the hand that was holding his cigarette it was shaking. Was he just anxious about Rosa being shot, or was it something else? Maybe she was just seeing things that weren’t there. Nobody else had stood out at the funeral as much as he had. Just because he wasn’t upset over Maureen dying didn’t mean he was the one who killed her.
Wren looked out at the car park. The only vehicle left belonged to Sebastian. He was busy trying to get Rosa’s wheelchair into the boot of his car. He wasn’t making a very good job of it.
“Hey,” Wren called, marching over. “Let me help you with that.”
He smiled and thanked her. Pretty soon they had the wheelchair where it needed to go.
“Thanks,” said Sebastian.
“Can I ask if you’re okay?” said Wren. “I noticed you started smoking again. I remember Maureen telling me that you tried really hard to quit the first time.”
“Things have been a little hectic lately. Whenever I get stressed I go straight back to my former vice.”
“And he’s upset because his wife is pregnant,” Rosa called from inside the car.
Sebastian winced. “Yeah, there is that.”
No wonder he was back on the cigarettes.
“Is she being difficult?” Wren asked.
“That’s the understatement of the year,” said Sebastian. “She told me she’d rather die than let my cheating, ungrateful self go anywhere near her baby.”
Wren didn’t know what to say. “Oh, well... it gets better.”
She left them to it. Wren was certain now the man had far too much on his mind to go around trying to murder Maureen. That wife of his, and Rosa of course, were going to keep him occupied for the next decade or so. She actually felt kind of sorry for him.
“Do you think Mr. Barr tried to kill me?” Maureen asked, glaring daggers as Sebastian drove away.
Wren shook her head. “He has far too many other problems to contend with.”
Maureen groaned and started pulling bits of her beard off. “I think this glue is giving me a rash. It itches so much.”
“I suppose you can become a woman again. There’s no need for the disguise.”
Maureen took a deep breath and said, “I like the suit though. I might keep that.”
Wren laughed and the two of them headed home. It wasn’t until they were passing the town hall that several stray thoughts swirling around Wren’s head collided and gave her sudden clarity.
She stopped and said, “I think I know who’s trying to kill you.” Before Maureen could react she said, “But there’s some things we need to do first before I’m absolutely sure, and I’m going to need your help.”
Chapter 28
Wren had called the accused, asking to come to her house so they could arrange a memorial to Maureen, maybe a tree planting. They’d quickly agreed, especially when Wren lied and told them how much they meant to the deceased.
“I’m glad you could make it,” said Wren, letting them in. “Come in.”
There was just the two of them in the house apart from the cats, though they were all asleep. Gracie was pacing around her nest. The birth would be coming soon, maybe tonight. Wren hoped she could wrap
this up before her precious cat started having contractions.
“Of course,” Wren’s visitor said. “I’d do anything to honor Maureen. She was my dear friend.”
They were still in their funeral attire, including the garish black veil. Wren knew why they were wearing such a stupid thing, and it wasn’t to hide their fake grief.
They stroked one of Maureen’s cats. “I miss seeing these little things everywhere. What do you plan on doing with them now? Maybe I could take a few in once we’re allowed back in the apartment building.”
“I’m not sure Maureen would like you looking after her children.”
“She knew I loved them. I even gave her Sonny and Cher, did she tell you that?”
Wren took a deep breath. It was time.
“You were never Maureen’s friend, and I’m sure the only reason you gave her Sonny and Cher was to make her think you cared. You didn’t care. You hated her. You tried to kill her half a dozen times. You wouldn’t spit on Maureen if she was on fire. In fact, if Maureen was on fire, I’d bet you were the one responsible.”
They sighed. “That’s a lot of accusations.”
“And they’re all true, Ginger.”
The other woman sighed, as if afraid that Wren was going off the deep end. It was very patronizing.
“You’re upset with grief,” Ginger said consolingly. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”
“Why would I be upset with grief?” Wren asked. “Maureen isn’t dead.”
“She died in the fire. Poor, poor Maureen. She had so much life left in her.”
The door to the kitchen opened, revealing Maureen standing there. Ginger reacted by opening her mouth in shock.
“M... Maureen?” Ginger cried. “How is this possible?”
“It doesn’t matter how this is possible,” said Maureen, walking up to them. “I’m alive.”