The Quaker meeting house was a small, square building, its wooden exterior painted white like most of the buildings around the Green. I pulled into the adjoining parking lot, surprised at the number of cars already there. I entered a square room with two rows of benches along all four walls facing into the center of the room.
I looked around, glad to see a few familiar faces. Cybil, the friendly receptionist at Parson’s Gym, was sitting with Greg Tedesco, Robby’s boss. With them were a man and two women who looked familiar. I was pretty sure I’d seen them at the gym.
Three women a few years older than me—Daphne’s age—sat chatting in the back bench to my left. I wondered if they were old friends of Daphne’s whom Robby had contacted. Behind the gym group, a man in his late seventies stared into the empty space in the center of the room as though waiting for the show to begin.
A tall, broad-shouldered man in his late forties/early fifties sat to the right of the door. It was Ronnie Rodriguez, the movie company’s cameraman. Ronnie must have recognized me too, because he smiled at me. I was about to head in his direction when Robby suddenly appeared. I sat down in front of the three women.
The room fell silent.
Robby looked around, nodding to each of us in turn. “Thank you all for coming to pay your last respects to my sister Daphne and to celebrate her memory. Daphne was murdered in the town where she and I grew up. Now that she’s gone to her rest, wherever that may be, I want to remember and honor her abbreviated life here on earth.”
He drank from the water bottle he was holding and went on. “Daphne and I grew up in Clover Ridge. Our life here wasn’t happy because our father was an abusive drunk. Someone murdered him, and I was charged and convicted for the crime. I did not kill my father. My case was reviewed and I was exonerated. Last year I decided to return to the area where I grew up to find the person who murdered my father. I’d changed my name to Robby Dowd and took a job at a local gym as a personal trainer.
“As of today, I’m going by my original name, Billy Harper, the name I was born with. I will do all I can to find my sister’s murderer and hopefully my father’s as well.”
He flashed a smile at everyone present. “Enough about me. We’re meeting today to celebrate Daphne’s life. In true Quaker spirit, I would like each of you to tell us how Daphne impacted your life.”
One of the trio of women stood. She was pretty, with long blonde hair. Robby—that is, Billy—asked her to approach the center of the room.
“Hello. My name is Tracy Halleran. I lived in the same apartment house as Daphne and Billy.” She smiled at Billy. “Daphne and I were best friends for most of that time. She was the sweetest, nicest person. We all knew what a difficult time she was having—her father drinking and hitting them—and we wished we could do something to make her life better. I’m sorry she didn’t contact me when she moved back here. I’m sorry someone murdered her.”
We clapped, and Tracy sat down. To my surprise, the old man got up next.
“I’m Steve Dawson. I used to work with Chet Harper, Daphne’s father. Yes, he was a mean drunk at times, but when he wasn’t drinking, he was a decent man. And he loved his family, despite how he treated them. He didn’t deserve to get knifed to death any more than his daughter deserved what happened to her.”
Before we could react to Steve Dawson’s contribution, the door opened and a man stepped inside, looking around as if he was lost.
Oh no! It was Bert Lutz! Billy strode over to his sister’s ex-husband.
“This is a memorial service to honor my sister,” Billy said.
“I know. I’m not here to make trouble,” Bert said.
“Then sit down and remain quiet until it’s your turn to speak.”
Bert nodded and sat a few feet from me. I wrinkled my nose when a whiff of whiskey wafted my way.
Another old friend of Daphne’s stood and said her piece; then Greg, Robby’s—er, Billy’s—boss, stood.
“I met Daphne once, when she came to the gym. It took no more than one meeting to know she was a kind, worthy person—just like her brother. I’m sorry her life ended so suddenly. I only hope the police find the person who killed her and her father, because my money says the person is one and the same.”
“Thank you, Greg.” Billy joined his boss in the center of the room and flung an arm around his shoulders. “And thanks for standing by me. Thank you all for coming here today. I can’t put into words how grateful I am that though some of you didn’t get to know my sister, you’re here to give me support.”
Applause broke out. I was touched and eager to offer my remembrance of Daphne, but Billy had something to add.
“I know it’s premature, but I want to share some information with you.”
Oh no! Don’t do it!
But Billy was already grinning and pointing at me. “Thanks to Carrie Singleton and her partner Dylan Avery, I now know where my mother is living—not very far from here, it turns out. I intend to pay her a surprise visit in hopes of learning some vital information. Information that might very well expose the killer in our midst.”
Cheers and whistles filled the meeting room. Bert Lutz stood and walked to the center of the room. Billy frowned but quickly decided that he had no choice but to let him speak.
“I was married to Daphne and probably knew her better than anyone here—except her brother, of course. Daphne was the best thing that ever happened to me, and I’m sorry I didn’t treat her better.” Bert looked at Billy. “Daphne never forgave herself for letting that policeman bamboozle her into saying she heard you fighting with your father the night he was killed when your argument with him happened a week earlier. She was determined to find you and beg your forgiveness. I’m glad she found you. I only hope you find the SOB that murdered her.” He glanced upward. “Daphne, honey, rest in peace.”
This time the applause was even louder than before. When it died down, I was moved to speak.
“I met Daphne when she came to the library wanting to give a talk about psychic phenomena. Her own recently acquired psychic ability had urged her to return to Clover Ridge. She wasn’t sure why. I’m so happy that she got to reunite with Billy.
“Daphne and I spent time together and were on our way to becoming good friends when she was murdered. I hope the police will find her murderer very soon.”
An older woman who turned out to have been a friend of Daphne and Billy’s mother spoke, and the room fell silent. Billy addressed us one last time. He thanked us all for coming and for caring about his sister.
I timed my exit so that I’d fall into step with Ronnie Rodriguez. He acknowledged me with a grin.
“I have to hand it to the Quakers. They’re informal and everyone gets to say his piece.”
“Are you a Quaker?” I asked.
That inspired a deep belly laugh. “Me? I’m not anything, but my second wife was a Quaker.”
“How did you happen to come to Daphne’s memorial service?” I asked.
“I came for Robby—er, Billy. I’d heard what a great personal trainer he was, so I begged and begged until he agreed to squeeze me in for a few hours of training. The exercises he had me do eased the pain that was killing my shoulders for more than fifteen years.”
“He’s quite a person,” I said.
Ronnie nodded. “I’m sorry as hell he had to spend all that time in prison for a crime he didn’t commit.”
“Me too.” I thought a minute, then asked, “Does anyone else from the movie crew come to Parson’s Gym?”
“Sure. Phil, the lighting guy, comes even more often than I do. He’s into body building and won’t give it a rest. Ilana and Serena came a few times. That’s about it, I think. By the way, do you happen to know when Billy’s planning to go see his mother?”
“No idea,” I said.
“It’s just that I hope he’s not setting himself up for a big disappointment. Billy thinks his mother knows who murdered his father. My feeling is, if she really did, she would have told the police by now.”
“I think Billy wants his mother to explain why she disappeared when the police focused in on him as their number-one suspect,” I said. “No matter what she tells him, it can’t be what he hopes to hear.”
“Unfortunately, I agree,” Ronnie said.
We were standing at the edge of the parking lot now.
“I hear you’ll be resuming filming in a few days,” I said.
“Righto! Marissa Varig’s joining the cast, and we’ll be back in business.” Ronnie leaned toward me and lowered his voice. “I’m glad that Tom is no longer suspect number one.”
“Me too. See you around, Ronnie.”
He strode off, and I was heading to my car when someone grabbed my arm.
“Carrie!” Billy had been running to catch up with me. “I wanted to thank you for coming today.”
“Of course,” I said. “It was a lovely, down-to-earth service. Daphne would have liked it.”
“And now we can move ahead and find out what my mother’s been hiding all these years. Please let me know ASAP when you can make the trip with me.”
“Of course.” I hesitated, then added, “I only wish you hadn’t announced your plans to go see your mother because you assume she knows who killed your father.”
Billy laughed. “There’s nothing to be afraid of. Everyone who came to the memorial service came for my sake or Daphne’s.”
“Still,” I said, “when investigating unsolved homicides, it’s best not to divulge your plans to too many people. Even if the murderer isn’t present, he might get wind of what you intend to do.”
“Yes, Miss Marple.” Billy gave me a sharp salute. “From now on, I promise not to share our plans with anyone.”