2 Multiple Exposures (14 page)

Chapter Sixteen

I stood beneath my umbrella with rain pouring down. Skipping over puddles and sidestepping mud, I made my way to the church. Another funeral, this time a sweet woman. As others joined me on the slow, wet procession to the double doors, I wondered if there would be a third before the killer was stopped. I hoped not, and I had already decided to pray as soon as I sat in the pew that no other violence would come to this town. Enough was enough.

Just inside the lobby, I accepted the slip of plastic an attendant handed me to place over my umbrella, and hearing the door open behind me, I found Paul and Gloria Jacobs just stepping in. Paul’s gaze swept to mine, and such a look of dislike registered on his face that I gasped and looked away. What had I done to deserve such a look?

Grace, on the other hand, had peered at me and just as quickly looked away. Her actions made me wonder. If I didn’t know better, I would think she was guilty of something, or knew of someone else who was. Wait, what did I mean
if I didn’t know better
? I didn’t know for certain neither of them had been involved with Dr. Bloomberg’s murder, or worse, Lissa’s. I decided at that moment to keep my eyes on them.

I lingered in the lobby, pretending to have trouble with my umbrella, while Paul and Grace moved ahead to the main sanctuary. When they passed through the doors, I followed and sat as near as I dared.

The inside of the church was quite large and elaborately designed with carved wooden beams along the ceiling and columns at intervals. Long, slender windows of stained glass depicting various scenes were situated all along the sidewalls. Unfortunately, since the day was so dull, not much light shown through them, and the interior ones kept it bright enough to see but not to cheer.

The church quickly filled to capacity for Lissa’s homegoing. I hadn’t attended the small service for Dr. Bloomberg, but I had heard no one had gone. If no one had gone, how did anyone know?

Ollie had it that Lissa had wanted to pay her respects to her boss, and Hardy Joe had put his foot down. Thinking of Hardy Joe, I leaned forward to see the front pew and spotted his broad shoulders right away. Reeza sat to his left and Pete beside her. Their parents were there, a silent couple. The girls’ mom sat dry-faced beside her husband, and I hoped she had already cried so much there was nothing left. The alternative didn’t bear thinking on.

Someone dropped onto the pew next to me, and I looked up to find Inna, followed by Brandon and then David. Inna, dressed in all black, her eyes puffy and red, was quiet. Although I understood the situation, it seemed odd not to hear the quick-fire smart remarks from my young friend. She must know everyone in town and had since she was a baby. I grabbed her hand, and she curled her fingers around mine.

The service began. At some point along the program, Hardy Joe howled in anguish. Pete rather than Reeza led him from the room, and a stir rose among the attendees. I shifted my gaze from the Maxwell/Russell family to Gloria and Paul. Gloria’s head was bowed, and Paul leaned over to whisper something in her ear. Gloria glared at him and commented. I tried shifting to pretend I had an itch on my ankle. I still couldn’t hear what they said.

In a short while, it appeared that an argument broke out among the couple. What was it about? Was Gloria accusing him of having something to do with Lissa’s death? I knew that was a stretch, but my imagination ran away with me at that point.

“No, drop it!”

Several heads swiveled in Paul and Gloria’s direction. She colored, and Paul stared back at them all. I thought it pretty fair to suspect he had lost several clients, if not with his previous arrest, with his attitude just now.

At last, we were informed Lissa’s body would be transported to the cemetery, and the burial would take place right away. Those who wished to attend could follow the hearse in their vehicles.

“Please remain in the pews until the pallbearers carry the casket out,” the funeral director asked.

Despite the instruction, Paul tried to grab Gloria’s hand and duck down the aisle. She jerked free, and with a tight jaw, he stormed out on his own. What was the man so angry about? I squeezed Inna’s hand to ask her. “Has he always been that angry?”

She had been following Paul’s actions as well but with an air of disinterest. At my question, she shrugged. “I guess so. I never noticed him much except when he used to come into The Donut Hole. One day he got into an argument with Frank after he told Peony to shut up. Now that you mention it, I guess maybe he
has
always been that way. After that, he never came back. Doubt Frank would have served him, and he knew it.”

“He is a piece of work,” I observed.

We all filed out after the pallbearers, and when I moved to the front step, popping open my umbrella as I went, I scanned the area for Paul. I had assumed in his rage he would leave Gloria to find her own way. Inna, Brandon, and David joined me on the stoop as a candy apple Camaro with a white phoenix on the hood roared around the corner and sped up to the curb.

“Excuse me,” someone said behind me.

I looked, and Gloria squeezed past my shoulder. I touched her arm. “Are you okay, Gloria?”

“I’m fine.” She didn’t even look at me or pause. Her heels clicked on the stone steps as she hurried to the street. In a few seconds, she folded into the interior of the car, and they were off. The right turn at the next corner indicated Paul had no intention of heading over to the cemetery.

“Well, that was dramatic,” Talia said, appearing from seemingly nowhere. Purple. The woman wore purple. Not even deep dark purple, but amethyst. I supposed it wasn’t wrong. This was about saying good-bye and sharing our grief. A few others hadn’t worn black, but somehow Talia seemed to be making a statement. Then again, maybe she didn’t own black. I had never seen her in any. That might be a good thing.

“Hush, Talia,” I said, and we disbursed, some to attend the burial, some to grieve elsewhere.

* * * *

Worried, I phoned Gloria later and convinced her to meet me at Zekey’s. I was surprised when she agreed. I had gone home to change from my own black dress into a pair of jeans and a navy blue hoodie, which read “I’ve been known to flash people”. A picture of a camera had been screen-printed alongside this provocative statement. I know it was tacky, but it was my tacky, and I liked it. So sue me.

The rain had let up, but I took along the umbrella anyway. A good ten minutes passed after I arrived at the arranged time at the restaurant, and I worried Gloria wouldn’t show. However, five minutes later, she strode in, looking less than happy to be there.

When she sat down, I pushed a menu toward her, but she ignored it. “I was concerned about earlier,” I said. “By no means do I want to get into your private matters, Gloria, but it looked like you and Paul were having serious problems. If you need to talk to someone, I want you to know I’m here. I’ll listen.”

She ordered a coffee in silence, and when it came, added cream and sugar. Stirring absently, she looked at me. “You think Paul did it.”

“I didn’t say that.”

Her thin lips compressed. “You think I don’t know what they’re saying about us? Ollie told me himself!”

I winced. “Don’t listen to Ollie. He has nothing better to do than to pass on gossip.”

“Yes, and he’s never wrong.”

“He said Paul killed Dr. Bloomberg and Lissa?”

“No.” Her shoulders slumped, and the misery rolled off her in waves. “He said that’s what people are saying. Short of being arrested—
again
—it’s just as bad. Do you know that just this morning, two older ladies changed their minds about entering the church when they saw Paul going in? It’s not right.”

“Oh no, I’m so sorry, Gloria,” I said. “I agree. It’s not right. Maybe I should talk with the sheriff.”

“Don’t.” She sniffed and dug into her purse to pull out a tissue. I waited in silence while she wiped her nose and pulled herself together. Hesitant to ask the questions that rattled around in my head, I played instead with my sweet tea, letting the ice clink against the side of the glass. In the end, Gloria was the one to speak first. “I know you think he’s guilty.”

“You don’t think so?”

She glanced away. Did she doubt him?

“I know when Paul is lying to me,” she explained. “He was with me the night Lissa died.”

I was not too distracted to note she didn’t say her husband had an alibi for the night Dr. Bloomberg was murdered. Rather, he died during the day. The report Spencer had received said the doctor had been poisoned the night before. Paul apparently hadn’t been with Gloria then, or I was pretty sure she would have said so.

“Gloria, I know it’s hard to think someone we love may have done something wrong that they regret, but—”

“He didn’t!” Tears filled her eyes, and my heart hurt for her.

“Then why did you come? Only to assure me the rumors are false?”

Tears glistened in her eyes. “My husband has a jealous streak.”

I nodded. “And he found out before the sheriff interviewed him about what Dr. Bloomberg had been doing?”

“Not exactly.” She raised her coffee cup an inch or so, and it rattled in the saucer. Shaken, she set it down and stuffed her hands into her lap. “Neither of us knew about the pictures before Sheriff Norwood told us, but Dr. Bloomberg was always extra friendly with me.”

“But you said…”

“I know what I said.” She blinked a few times, and a couple tears rolled unchecked down her face. In the corner, with her back to most of the patrons, it seemed no one noticed. I was glad for her sake. “I lied because I didn’t want the sheriff to think Paul had done anything. He gets so dang angry.”

Understatement of the year.

“A few years ago, a judge ordered him to take anger management classes. He did, and they seemed to help, but lately, he’s back on edge. Frankly, I think Paul loves the law, but it doesn’t love him back. He gets too involved. Everything hits him harder than most, and he just doesn’t know how to handle it. I’m afraid…”

She trailed off, and I began to understand her fear. As Paul’s wife, she wanted to believe in him, but she doubted, and that was a terrible place to be in. I reached across the table and held out my hands, palms up. She hesitated and then laid hers in mine. I gave her hands a gentle squeeze.

“Gloria, I want you to be honest with yourself first. What anyone or I think isn’t important. Not even the sheriff at this particular moment. Do you think Paul killed Dr. Bloomberg?”

Her hands spasmed in my hold. “I—I don’t know. He tells me he didn’t do it, and he looks just like he does when he’s telling me the truth.”

“But your fear makes you doubt him?”

She nodded, looking miserable.

“Well, is there anything that you’ve seen at home, or anything that Paul has done that makes you more suspicious?”

“You mean like hide a bloody shirt in the bottom of the laundry basket?”

“I didn’t want to get that graphic, but yes.”

We both chuckled, more to relieve the tension than to make light of the situation.

“No, I haven’t.”

“Good. Then let’s believe in Sheriff Norwood’s ability to catch his man. As Paul’s wife, you believe in him until you have reason not to. That’s your position, right?”

She squared her shoulders and sniffed. “You’re right. After all, we have our son to think about too, and he loves his daddy. I do too.”

“Meanwhile, maybe convince him to get back into the anger management classes.” I hoped she wouldn’t be offended at the suggestion, and she didn’t seem to be.

She smiled for the first time. “You’re right. If I don’t, I just might be driven to lengths I don’t want to go to with that man.”

We chuckled again, and then, feeling somewhat better, we ordered lunch and chatted about her son and about her thoughts on going back to school. She enjoyed working in the library but of late, wanted something new and different. I voiced my opinions quite freely on radical changes to one’s life to both lift one’s spirits and to give purpose. At the end of our chat, we were on good terms, and I felt I had gained yet another new friend in Briney Creek.

I left the restaurant a short while later and headed to the used bookstore. I wanted to see Inna. I happened to know she had work that afternoon, and I hoped to cheer her as much as possible. As I neared the store, my cell phone rang, and I pulled it out. Edna phoned. I kept moving since the temperature was so brisk, but I answered.

“Hi, Edna.”

“Makayla.”

I paused. “You sound upset. Is everything okay?”

“I’m fine, dear. It’s just that an old friend contacted me. I’m afraid I’m going to have to put off working with Peony.”

“Oh, no, I’m sorry.”

I could just see her pouting. “That darn Talia will just love this, but I can’t ignore a friend in need.”

“No, you can’t. Do I know her? Is there anything I can do to help?”

“No, thank you, dear. She doesn’t live in Briney Creek anymore. A long time ago, Margot lived in Hillrise with her family, but after she got married, she moved away. I’m going to make arrangements to go to her tomorrow, but I wanted to let you know I wouldn’t be around for a little while so you don’t worry.”