Prayers for the Dead. Faye Kellerman

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      “Can you do it? Maggie’s useless and I’m … I can’t handle Paul right now.”

      “All right. I’ll do it.”

      “When are you going to get here? Mom’s asking for you.”

      “As soon as I can, Michael. Where’s Maggie?”

      “With Mom.”

      “Mike, watch Mom like a hawk. Keep her away from the medicine cabinet.”

      “Right.”

      “Also, get Maggie to take her Theo-Dur—”

      “She seems okay—”

      “As a precaution, Mike. Her attacks are usually delayed. I can’t deal with Maggie’s asthma right now. Tell Mag to lie down and rest until I can get there.”

      Michael nodded.

      “Are you there?”

      “Sorry, yes. I’ll keep watch over Mom.”

      “And Maggie, too. Take care of both of them. Are you getting this down, Michael?”

      “Yes, keep watch over Mom. And Maggie, too. Just get here.”

      “As soon as I can. Put Decker back on.”

      “Who?”

      “The lieutenant.”

      “Oh …” Again, Michael gave the phone to Decker.

      “Yes?”

      Bram said, “Do you know where the Church of St. Thomas is, Lieutenant?”

      “Of course.”

      “How far is it from where my father …”

      “I could meet you at St. Thomas’s if you’d like, Mr. Sparks.”

      “Thank you very much. I’d appreciate it. I need to call my other siblings. To tell them what’s going on. I’ll meet you outside the church in twenty minutes.”

      “That’s fine.”

      The phone disconnected.

      Michael said, “Is he coming over?”

      “No,” Decker said. “First he wants to identify your father. I’m picking him up in front of St. Thomas’s.”

      “God …” Michael paced furiously. “I hope he gets here quick. I don’t think I can handle the others by myself!”

      “Who are the others?” Decker asked. “Your siblings?”

      Maggie came running down the stairs. “Michael, she’s moaning. What should I do?”

      “I’m coming.” Michael bit his nail. To Decker, he said, “Excuse me a moment.” He started up the stairs with his sister. “Oh, Maggie. Take your Theo-Dur. As a precaution.”

      “I’m all right—”

      “Just do it, Mag. Don’t argue.”

      Maggie seemed angry but said nothing. As they climbed up a serpentine twist of staircase, they disappeared from view, leaving Decker down below in the faded dowager of a house. He took the opportunity to nose around, went into the family room.

      The walls held no artwork. Instead, they were plastered with family photos. The Sparkses appeared to have lots of children, although some of the adults could have been daughters or sons-in-law.

      The most striking photos were two fourteen-by-twenties framed in gilt. The sittings appeared almost identical. Obviously, they had been taken on the same occasion, and it had been a formal one. Dad had been decked out in a tux; Mom, in a blue sequined gown. The men wore dark suits, the women expensive suits or cocktail dresses.

      The first photograph held many more people—the parents, their children with spouses, lots of grandchildren, ranging from teens to infants. Too many people for Decker to sort out.

      The second photograph was more manageable. Eight people. The parents—Azor and Dolores—with four young men and two young women, among them Michael and Maggie. Probably their children because all of them bore resemblance to the parents. Though the dress had been formal, the posing had been much more casual. All of the parties seemed relaxed—no frozen smiles, no stiff postures. Everyone seemed to be having a good time.

      The kids broke down into two groups: Dad’s side with black, curly hair and blue eyes, and Mom’s side with light brown hair and green eyes. Michael and another brother looked like Dad, Maggie, the other men, and a sister favored Mom.

      Decker took a closer look at the photo. One brother wore a clerical collar. St. Thomas’s was a Catholic church. Perhaps brother Bram was actually Father Bram. No wonder he had been so composed over the phone. The clergy was used to dealing with crises.

      A good-looking man in a pale, scholarly way. A face with regular features, and accented cheekbones. Sharp, sea-colored eyes behind the rimless glasses. Oak-brown hair and long. It fell past his shoulders.

      Decker continued to examine the picture, then did a double take. Another brother standing next to Dad. Bram’s face but without the academic pallor and glasses. Fleshier in the cheeks with shorter, styled hair.

      Michael came down the stairway. “She’s sleeping, but it’s restless.”

      “Do you have a family doctor you want to call, Michael?”

      “No, not really. Dad has always handled our medical care. We’re generally a very healthy bunch, including Mom. Maggie’s with her. She’ll be okay.”

      Decker pointed to the picture. “You have twin brothers?”

      Michael’s eyes went to the photograph. “Actually, triplets. Luke and Bram …” He pointed to the faces. “These two are identical twins obviously. They look even more alike now that Luke has taken off a few pounds.”

      “Bram’s a priest.”

      “Yeah. But we’re not Catholic. Only he is.”

      “Who is the other triplet?”

      “Paul.” Michael’s coloring had returned. “He looks more like me than his own twins. That’s genetics. Toss of the dice. This one is my older sister, Eva. She was born after the triplets. She’s kind of … well, my mother’s favorite after Bram. I think Mom was really happy to get a girl after three boys.”

      “I can imagine. How old are your sibs?”

      “Triplets are thirty-five, Eva’s thirty.”

      “And you’re …”

      “I’m twenty-five. Maggie’s twenty.”

      “Your mom had children СКАЧАТЬ