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Abigail was captivated by all that she saw and wanted to know more. With all of the news crews outside, she figured TV stations must be airing this live.
Where is the remote?
She found the remote and changed the station until she saw Samantha Callahan reporting. Samantha was a tall, slender blonde woman whose signature style was to wear something pink every day. She always wore too much makeup and was caught a few times cursing at the camera man, unaware that she was still live on national television. Abigail and her coworker, Roger, continued their daily cleaning rituals as they watched the latest news unfold across the street and on TV at the same time.

“We’re here live outside at the funeral of international investment phenomenon Alan Jiang, CEO of Chapel and Case Investment Company. His body was found five days ago, washed up on the shores of the Atlantic Ocean in Portland, Maine, with a gunshot wound to the head and neck. Apparently, he was on a fishing trip…”

Roger poked his head out of the dishwasher, “That’s fucked up.” Roger was a drop out from the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, MIT for short, located in Cambridge, Massachusetts. Roger stood about 5’11” with light brown hair and a “boy band” haircut. He had bangs that hung over his face and made him look immature and younger than he really was. He lived with his mother and was an introvert with everyone else except Abigail and Frankie, the owner of the pub. After two and a half years at MIT, he had decided he wasn’t interested in learning things he already knew about mechanical and chemical engineering. Ironically, he still couldn’t figure out how to fix the dishwasher. Roger banged on the side of the machine. 

“This damn… Hey, Elvis. Can you get those tables in section four for me? I think I can fix this.” Roger often called Abigail, Elvis.

“No Problem.” Abigail’s attention was still stuck on the black limos across the street. Frankie came into the room from the back. Frankie was a broad faced Irish man who always worked out and wore a white tank top.

“Do your own damn tables, Rog.” Frankie interjected.

“I’m trying to fix this washer,” Roger said with a struggle.

“You’ve been fixing it for six months. You just don’t want to wash dishes by hand. Do something productive so I don’t feel like I’m wasting my money paying you for work you delegate to Abby.”

“I don’t mind, Frankie.” Abigail tried to support Roger.

“I’m serious, Roger. I’m gonna pay Abigail your wages.”

“Frankie, you’re always complaining! One day I’m gonna get sick of your complaints, old man.”

“And do what?” Frankie was ready for any challenge Roger was willing to offer.

“You know I could kill you with this little pinky here?”

They all laughed. 

Abigail looked back and forth from the television report to the funeral. Samantha Callahan was mumbling about another body found 10 miles down the coast from Jiang’s body. They showed footage of the young man’s mother collapsing at his funeral a day earlier. There weren’t many details mentioned about the homicide investigation, and most of the executives remained quiet about the murders when questioned by reporters. Death never seemed to stir up Abby’s softer emotions. She didn’t get why people got so upset about it. She figured, “We all die. No point pretending that one day, there’ll be a cure for death. We can’t stop it. But, one thing we
can
do is rush it along.” This man’s life was over; someone felt it was time for him to die and made sure it happened.

As the pre–funeral bustling went on, Abigail didn’t say a word. She curiously watched these posh snobs tip toe in and out of the church.
Half of these people don’t give a shit about this man
, she thought to herself. She could tell they were having frivolous conversations on their way in and out of the basilica. She saw a few people on their cell phones, barely taking their eyes off the screen to say hello to the family on their way in. The news report flashed a few pictures of the victim’s face across the screen, some family photos and a picture of his company. There were a few comments about the Chapel and Case stock price fluctuating up and down, gaining and losing, back and forth all week. Investors weren’t sure if this was a good thing or a bad thing that Jiang was out of the picture. Would they miss out on the next big price increase, or was the company doomed? No one could tell.

From behind the bar Abigail dried her hands with a towel. She tossed it to the side and grabbed her hoodie from a hook against the wall.

“I’m gonna grab a smoke. Gimme a minute,” Abigail said as she zipped up her hoodie and grabbed a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from the top of the bar. She exited the pub. There were a few patrons inside, but Frankie could handle them alone. When she got outside, she leaned against the building slightly shivering from the cold rain falling over every little piece of exposed flesh. She loved the smell of the rain, it was refreshing. But Abigail’s focus was on that funeral. She couldn’t resist getting closer to inspect the mournful day of the Jiang family. She fed off the sorrow that sat thick in the air. Sorrow seemed to follow her, or maybe she followed it. No one could be sure, but she was intrigued by the mourner’s discomfort and wondered if she would ever feel that much emotion for anyone.

Katherine walked quickly and caught up to Mrs. Jiang. She grabbed her hand and assisted in escorting her to the front row. On the way a few people reached over and touched them or hugged them. Mrs. Jiang began to weaken at the knees and grabbed hold of Katherine’s hand to maintain her balance. Jiang’s family slowly processed up the aisle as the organist played
Morning Has Broken
. The organist was an older black man named Johnson. No one knew if Johnson was his first, last or middle name, but every knowledgeable funeral director knew that Johnson played the best pipe organ in the area. The Jiang family did not skimp on this funeral. They paid Johnson $2000 to play for up to three hours. The total cost of the funeral was $450,000 which was easily covered with Jiang’s $20 million life insurance policy.

Inside the basilica, the room was full of people who knew Katherine and Alan from work, school and business. Some neighbors showed up and a few folks from the golf club were in attendance. The room was decorated with cherry blossoms, lilacs and white roses. A burgundy rug guided the eyes towards Jiang’s coffin which was a cotton white shiny vessel at the front of the room. Flowers and mixed height white candles surrounded the casket; the candle light flickered and reflected, creating a halo effect. There wasn’t much natural light coming in through the stained glass windows due to the lack of sunlight. Each of the windows carried a stained glass image of Jesus and the 12 apostles, even Judas. Each of the apostles had a white dove somewhere in the glass image, signifying the presence of the Holy Spirit. However, the window depicting Judas didn’t have a dove, but instead a crow and a small satanic figure wrapped around his left leg.

All of the rows in the basilica were filled with people except for the first five rows on the left side of the church, reserved for family and closest friends. At the center of the aisle was Alan’s body pale and stiff, stitched back together by the finest morticians. Mourners processed, passed by his body, and touched his hand. Some made the sign of the cross over their chests as they paid their respects. Katherine dropped a tear and wiped it away swiftly before she turned her face towards the crowd. She looked at the crowd and tried to pick out the faces of friends and foes.
There has to be someone in here happy that he is gone.
She tried not to think about it, but it had crossed her mind so many times.
Which one of these bastards killed my husband?

Abby stood outside smoking as she leaned against the glass windows. She was there for about 10 minutes analyzing the guests. She stood, wondering if any guilty parties would show up; and if so, she wondered who they were. Was the wife in on the killing? She knew there was something corrupt brewing by the way everyone’s whispers on the way in were followed with fake hugs, smiles and kisses. Abigail decided she was bored with it. Her questions would never be answered by stalking the funeral guests. She wished she could go inside and view the body, but came to her senses as soon as the silly thought crossed her mind. She finished her cigarette and flicked it into the street puddle. It let off a soft hiss as water hit the flame. She walked back into the pub, thinking about looking back only once but never doing so. More limos arrived at the basilica carrying guests to the funeral. 

Chapel and Case was closed for the day for all employees except for maintenance and security workers. Maintenance staff was given a partial day and free to leave at 2 pm. Security, unfortunately for them, was necessary 24 hours a day. Last Christmas security staff was sent home at 1 pm in the afternoon. The next morning when people came back to work there was a 10 foot snowman sodomizing another snowman in the rear with his four foot crystal penis. The Thanksgiving before that, someone had strung a few raw turkeys from the company logo. The turkeys wore bowties and wigs and hung down in front of the doors. Security staff didn’t mind having to stay. It was always easier to secure a building when no one was inside, and most of the time they watched TV and cracked a few jokes among themselves. Erin Moore provided a lunch of pasta, salad, water and soda for all employees who were left working in the building to keep their spirits up while on duty.

When the funeral was over, guests were invited to share hors d’oeuvres in the courtyard behind the basilica. On a table covered in white linen was caviar, foie gras, crackers, brie, goat cheese, raw oysters, steamed dumplings, Swedish meatballs wrapped in duck bacon, arugula salad, beef and tuna tartar with quail egg on top. The guests’ tables were also covered in white linen with flowers and wine on top. Jiang’s mother did not say a word. She just smiled and nodded as the guests came and went. The father walked around shaking hands with guests. Katherine tucked herself away in a corner and scanned the crowd from behind her veil. Occasionally, guests would stop by to offer condolences, but most recognized that she had intentionally secluded herself. She quietly watched.

Directly after the ceremony, Jennifer Martin took a taxi back to her apartment. Being the mistress of a top executive was exciting until something important happened and you have to take a back seat. Reality set in. She saw his family, but never met them. She didn’t know much about any of them, yet Katherine was being embraced by Alan’s loved ones. It was a lonely journey and she knew it had been a bold move on her part to even bother showing up. She had no one to share her grief with. Her heart was broken and no one really understood what she was going through. No one has sympathy for a mistress in distress.

During the taxi ride, she looked out the window and reminisced about the fun times with Alan and their many sneaky getaways. She remembered their trip to Montego Bay when Alan slipped and fractured his ankle on the water falls. He told his wife it was an accident that happened while on the company ski trip. She remembered the trip to Paris and dinner at the Eiffel Tower. She thought it was the perfect moment for him to confess his love and promise to leave his wife for her, but instead he gave her a pair of two carat diamond earrings. She smiled and accepted the gift as a reminder of how insignificant she was in Alan’s deck of playing cards.

After about 20 minutes in the cab, Jennifer arrived at her apartment building. She went up the stairs after checking to see if there was any mail for her. Slowly she took one step at a time, feeling weak and tired from the long day of mourning. She entered her apartment, kicked off her shoes and sat on the couch. She wept for a few seconds and shook her head, thinking about Alan. Her phone rang. It was her friend, Missy.

“Hey, Missy.” Jennifer was happy she had called.

“Jen, are you ok?” Missy was concerned. She hadn’t heard from Jen in a few days.

“As good as I can be right about now. Sorry I haven’t answered your calls and texts. I just needed some time to think about things.”

“Have you talked to anyone?”

“I can’t really talk about everything with anyone. It would be a major scandal that I can’t deal with right now. I saw his wife there. She knows about me, but I didn’t think she would recognize me. She looked at me like she knew exactly who I was.”

“Oh boy. I wouldn’t be surprised if she did know. I don’t think you should be alone. I’m gonna come by in an hour. We can talk about everything then. Talking over the phone probably isn’t a great idea. So, I’ll be there soon.”

“You really don’t have to. I’ll be okay.”

“Listen, I know you will be okay, but you need company and a few glasses of wine. We can get drunk and cry together.” Missy laughed. “I’m gonna swing by. Be there in an hour or less.”

“Thanks Missy. I really appreciate it.”

Back at the basilica, by about 4:00 pm, the funeral and gathering was over and the crowd had mostly cleared. The news stations were gone as soon as most of the guests left. No one gave any comments about the funeral, about Alan Jiang or his mysterious murder. Even the workers left behind to clean up kept pretty quiet about what was going on inside. In a week no one would be talking about Alan Jiang. All that lingered were a few rose petals and cigarette butts from a few smokers who rushed in and out to have a quick smoke during the eulogy. After the reading, a few of the guests from the funeral ventured into Frankie’s to check it out and have a couple of drinks before going on their way.

Frankie was a bald, Irish former thug in his mid 50’s. He had a graying goatee and huge muscles that bulged through the tank tops he liked to wear on a daily basis. He had a three inch scar on the back left side of his head from when he was stabbed in a fight at the age of 25.

Frankie would never forget the night he met Abigail. It was an unexpected encounter. She had scared the shit out of him with her unexpected arrival one cold rainy night. It was a very late night in Boston and the rain had been pouring down for the past few hours. It had been unusually warm that winter. There were about four huge snow storms followed by oddly warm weather in the low 50s which was unusual for late February. The overabundance of rain had caused drains to clog all over the city. There were flash flood warnings broadcast over the television for the Boston metropolitan area. Despite the warnings, the pub was having a decent night. Some people showed up after work before the rain had begun and never left. Maybe the rain deterred them from leaving too soon. The busy night had created a need for more frequent runs to the trash bin in the alley. By the end of the night Roger, Larry and Frankie were slaving over the kitchen and bar floor, trying to clean up as swiftly as possible.