Obsession, Deceit And Really Dark Chocolate. Kyra Davis

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СКАЧАТЬ than spend eternity in heaven listening to a bunch of religious zealots say I told you so.

      —C’est La Mort

      It was like a black-and-gray sea of St. John and Brooks Brothers suits. I looked down at my own dark brown Old Navy dress as Mary Ann, Leah and I found seats in one of the rows toward the front, and then eyed their designer black dresses with undisguised resentment. “I thought you said earth tones were the new black when it came to mourning.”

      “They are,” Mary Ann said slowly, “but being in mourning and attending a funeral are different things.”

      “Oh?” I regarded her skeptically. “Don’t people come to funerals to mourn?”

      “Really, Sophie.” Leah let out an exasperated sigh. “People mourn on their own time. They come to funerals to get credit for mourning. There’s a huge difference.”

      I nodded thoughtfully. “I see your point.”

      “I didn’t expect them to have an open casket,” Mary Ann whispered. “Gosh, it’s so sad,” she added, tugging at the ends of her hair. “And look, they put way too much blush on him.”

      “Is anyone sitting here?” I looked up to see two men, both wearing the prerequisite gray suit. The one who had spoken was probably in his late thirties and was smiling down at Mary Ann. Or at least his mouth was smiling. His eyes were far too red to twinkle. He seemed fairly calm at the moment, so I wasn’t sure if the redness was due to a morning of crying or a night full of drinking. Still, he was cute in a teddy bear kind of way. His hairline was receding but he had a healthy tan that hinted at a love for the outdoors and a pug nose that automatically gave him a youthful air, despite his conservative attire. The other man was younger, taller and maybe in his mid-twenties. His dishwater-blond hair was cut a little too short for his round face and he was fidgeting with the knot in his tie in a way that made me think he wasn’t accustomed to wearing one.

      Mary Ann scooted over enough to make room for them. The older man nodded his appreciation and slid in first; the younger sat at the aisle and pulled out the prayer book in front of him.

      “I’m Rick,” the older said, presumably addressing all of us, although I noticed that his gaze lingered a little longer on Mary Ann. “And this is Johnny.”

      “Hi there!” Johnny chirped, then immediately looked a little abashed as if his tone had been too cheerful for the occasion.

      “I’m Mary Ann,” she said, “and this is Sophie and her sister Leah.”

      “Sophie…” Johnny looked at me and his eyes widened with recognition. “You’re that novelist…the one who found him!”

      “Yes, that’s me.”

      Rick did a quick double take while Johnny kept talking. “It must have been horrible. The newspaper said you didn’t see the crime actually happen, but surely you must have seen something, the make of the car driving away, perhaps? It doesn’t seem possible that someone could do something like this and not leave any evidence behind.”

      “Probably not, but if there was an eyewitness it wasn’t me.”

      “So it’s true, all you really saw was Eugene,” he said glumly. He looked like a kid who had just been forced to witness a Harry Potter book burning.

      “I can’t imagine what that was like for you,” Rick said. “You must have been terrified and—”

      “Did you know Eugene well?” I asked, cutting him off before he could miscast me in the role of innocent damsel in distress.

      “I spent time with him every day. I’m Flynn Fitzgerald’s main strategist. Johnny here is Fitzgerald’s personal assistant.”

      So he was that Rick! Perfect! Networking made easy.

      “Flynn Fitzgerald?” Mary Ann asked. “He’s a writer, right? I think I might have read one of his books a long time ago. Didn’t he write about parties and socialites?”

      Rick knitted his brow and studied Mary Ann as if trying to determine if she was joking.

      Leah cleared her throat awkwardly. “Mary Ann, you’re thinking of F. Scott Fitzgerald.”

      Rick nodded in agreement. “I actually love F. Scott Fitzgerald. I just reread Tender Is the Night last month.”

      “He was a great writer.” I patted Mary Ann’s knee. “But I’m fairly sure he doesn’t need an assistant or strategist.”

      “Why not?” Mary Ann asked innocently.

      Even sitting several feet away I could tell that Johnny was working hard to stop from giggling. “Well, for one thing, he’s dead, Mary Ann,” I explained.

      “Oh!” Mary Ann put a gentle hand on Rick’s arm. “And you loved him! So much loss in such a short time! When did Scott pass away?”

      For a second Rick just looked stunned, but then his expression changed and it was clear that he was amused despite himself. “I never actually met F. Scott Fitzgerald,” he explained. “Just Flynn Fitzgerald. The one running for the House of Representatives.”

      “The man Eugene worked for!” Mary Ann smacked her hand against her thigh, the whole situation becoming clear to her. “That would explain how you knew Eugene.”

      Rick broke out into a full grin. “Yes, that would explain it. Were you acquainted with Eugene?”

      Mary Ann shook her head, causing her perfect chestnut curls to bounce around her face. “No, I’m just here to support Sophie.”

      “That’s a shame. Eugene would have liked you.”

      She cocked her head to the side. “What makes you say that?”

      “Eugene liked sweet, compassionate, genuine people.”

      Mary Ann blushed slightly. “That’s one of the nicest compliments anyone’s ever paid me.”

      “They’re flirting,” Leah whispered in my ear. “They’re flirting at a funeral.”

      I glanced over at our three other companions. Johnny was engrossed in the Bible and Rick had his head bent toward Mary Ann in a rather intimate fashion. I could make out that he was telling her about Eugene, but his voice was too low for me to really eavesdrop effectively. I would grill Mary Ann later. I shrugged and turned to Leah. “I had sex after your husband’s funeral,” I whispered.

      “That’s different. You were bereaved, and bereaved people can have sex after a funeral. It’s a coping mechanism.”

      “But I wasn’t all that bereaved….”

      “Well you would have been if my husband hadn’t been an adulterous parasite. The point is that you and Bob were family, and any person who’s related to the deceased is allowed to have sex with someone after the funeral.”

      “Melanie actually told me about this guy. Eugene was a friend of Rick’s family, which means they were almost related, so he should be able to almost have sex…or at the very least flirt.”

      Leah СКАЧАТЬ