4:32 p.m.
FRANCINE PEARL Hughes’s arrest early that morning had been met with shock all over Philadelphia; her release from jail after arranging for bail felt like a party.
There were a smattering of protesters, of course, obsessed Birds fans bundled up in Eagles sweatshirts waving posters of outrage. These were the rare Philadelphians who embraced Archie Hughes as the greatest player of all time and yet hated his wife because they blamed her for every time the Eagles stumbled. Ah, he’s distracted by his pop-star trophy wife. Or: She should mind her own business and not distract him so much.
And now the latest variation: Oh yeah, she was jealous of the team’s success so she totally had him killed.
But those “fans” were in the clear minority. Most of the people gathered outside were there to cheer on Francine. And maybe to be part of a historic moment in the city.
The only person neither protesting nor cheering was Cooper Lamb.
Somehow Francine sensed his presence in the crowd. Maybe it was because he was the only human being standing perfectly still. Once they locked eyes, Cooper began to clap. Slowly. Theatrically. As if to say: If you had told me the truth, and all of the truth, you might not be in this position right now.
He watched Francine carefully, and her reaction sort of stunned him.
Francine Pearl had spent most of her life in the public eye. She knew how to smile even when she felt like dying inside. And to be sure, she smiled at Cooper.
But it was only a half smile. A weary admission that it was hard to keep a positive outlook when your entire world was burning down.
Was it possible she’d loved her husband despite it all?