CHAPTER 8

I thought I had made a clean get-away, but after I entered the church, pausing to look over the crowd to find someone I might possibly know, Roark came through the doors from behind and sidled up next to me.

“I forgot to ask you how you’re getting back to your hotel after the service. I could give you a ride.”

I scanned the gathered mourners with a little more urgency and was relieved when I saw Tim Brewer turn his head around in his seat about halfway up the right aisle. He motioned for me to join him and indicated an empty space beside him.

“That’s very generous, but I see an old friend over there,” I said, pointing to Tim, “and I’m sure I can catch a ride with him after the burial.”

“Okay, then. Enjoy your time in East Hastings,” she said before walking off down the aisle, pausing to shake a hand or two along the way, before sliding into a pew close to the front on the left side of the aisle.

I proceeded down the center aisle toward where Tim was sitting with his family--his wife Ellen and their two kids. As I neared them, I noticed that Tina Sanders was sitting about two rows in front of them and was watching me. I gave a small wave, but she quickly turned back to the front. A balding, sausage-headed man sat beside her, some flab from his neck spilling out over the tight collar of his dress shirt. Tina’s sudden turn caused him to look first at her and then to turn and look at me. He whispered something to Tina, and she nodded her head. His beady eyes sized me up, and then he turned his attention back to the front, again whispering to Tina, this time a little more animatedly.

Tim’s family all slid over to give me a little more room in the church pew. I shook Tim’s hand and nodded my greeting to Ellen, his wife, and the two kids, trying to remember if their names were Glen and Kathy or Gary and Karen. I only knew them from their pictures on the Christmas cards I’d received from Tim over the years. Ellen smiled briefly, sufficiently somber. The offspring glanced up momentarily before bowing their heads, returning their attention to their electronic game devices held low, at arm’s length, on their laps.

I was amazed to see that Tim had spent the last twenty or so years growing to look almost exactly like his father--the same receding hair line with a bit of gray beginning to show, his face still youthful, a little paunch that hung over his belt. The eyes were Tim’s though--bright, friendly--unlike the stern, hard disciplinarian eyes of his father, who, quite frankly, always scared the hell out of me.

“You won’t believe what happened to me just now, really strange. The chief of police--” I began to say.

Tim turned to look at me, his eyes giving me the once over. “Nice of you to get dressed up,” he said, and I realized that I was still wearing the Bermuda shorts, polo shirt, and sandals I had on when I got into town. Damn, just the impression I was hoping to make.

“My clothes were stolen,” I said to him in a low voice.

“What? Why would anyone want to steal your clothes? I mean how many six-foot-three-inch thieves are there running around?”

“They were in my car. Somebody stole my car,” I answered, perhaps a little too loudly because Ellen cast me a disapproving glance.

I also couldn’t help notice that Tina sat up a little straighter in her pew and, again, the guy next to her leaned over and whispered something to her. Again, she only nodded.

“Well, welcome back,” Tim answered.

“Yeah, it’s been a pretty weird day.”

I looked around at the assembled masses. There was about a hundred people, give or take a few.

“Pretty nice turn out. Hate to say it but I thought there might just be Sue Ellen, you, me and a few of the old crowd,” I whispered to Tim.

“Well, actually, I’m not sure how many of these people even knew Stevie. Think most of the crowd showed up either out of respect for Sue Ellen or to kiss Tony’s ass.”

Ellen shot Tim a look that would freeze lava. “Tim, we are in church!” she scolded with a hush.

“Sorry,” he replied to her, “it’s true, but I’ll watch my language.” He turned back to me. “That’s the family up in the front there,” he said, indicating with a nod of his head the first pew in the church. “Sue Ellen’s the one wearing the hat. Those are her kids next to her, she’s got two--I think I told you that--and then, of course, there’s Tony.”

I craned to get a good look at them, but could only see backs of heads and Sue Ellen’s hat. I was still working up what I would say to her, had been ever since I heard the news, and was actually wondering if I was right to come at all when the minister approached the pulpit and things got under way.

***

It was a pretty nice service, as far as they go, although it seemed like there was someone else in the casket that sat to the one side of the pulpit, the way the speakers talked about Stevie. Loving son--okay, I’ll give him that. He seemed to get along with his dad, whenever he wasn’t on the road. His mom was a nice woman who thought the world of her Stevie and he always did his best to shield her from most of his escapades. Loyal and loving brother...well, that might have been a bit of a stretch. There was the time in junior high when he was selling naked pictures of Sue Ellen. Of course, the pictures weren’t actually of her, but of Nancy Holligan. They had been taken from behind, through a bedroom curtain and pretty much out of focus so it really could have been anyone, so I guess it was no crime, no foul, but still...

And I couldn’t really say as far as him being a generous and doting uncle, although I imagine he was the type to shower his nieces with gifts when he was flush but also let birthdays and holidays pass without a note.

No, the real bullshit was all the stuff about him always being willing to help neighbors and working hard to overcome his demons. Or about the way he put family first and could be counted on most when things got a little rough. Of course, I really didn’t expect the truth, about how you knew deep down you couldn’t trust Stevie as far as you could throw him but how, regardless of anything he did, you could never stay mad at him or really--okay, I’ll say it--stop loving the guy.

As the service ended, we all rose and stood as Tony and a few other guys--some who I recognized from high school, others who I didn’t and none who were probably friends of Stevie--escorted the casket as it was rolled up the center aisle on a draped cart, Sue Ellen, her kids, and family following behind. I hated to admit it, but Tony still looked good--handsome with just a tinge of gray at the temples, trim and powerful, and sharply dressed in a tailored black suit, white shirt, and gray tie with matching handkerchief. Tony saw me, and we locked eyes for a brief moment. Not the friendliest of looks. He turned his head to say something to the guy behind him, who nodded and then looked me over as they passed.

Sue Ellen was as beautiful as I remembered her, although behind the slight veil that covered the upper half of her face it was difficult to make out her features clearly. Tears slowly streaked from beneath the veil and she dabbed at them absently with a handkerchief as she followed the casket up the aisle. I thought she was going to pass by without noticing me, when, with a slight start, she turned her head to look at me. A sad smile appeared and she silently mouthed the words, “Thank you,” before moving on.

The rest of the mourners filed out of the pews, starting at the front and emptying, in order to follow the family. So since we were near the rear, it took a little while for me, Tim, and his family to get out of the church. We stepped out into the midday sun. I stopped at the bottom of the steps to watch the back doors of the hearse close while Tim and family continued along the sidewalk that ran to a parking lot, stopping to talk to a family with children about the same age as Tim’s kids.

The sun was bright and I was feeling my pockets to see where I’d put my sunglasses when the guy who had been walking behind Tony with the casket approached. He was a pretty good-sized gentleman, hair slicked back, black suit, white shirt buttoned at the collar, no tie, big chest, and no doubt big biceps. He had shark-like eyes that scanned me up and down. My attire appeared to amuse him. He leaned in close.

“Tony wanted to tell me that he can’t stop you from coming to the cemetery, but that you are not to go near his wife or family and, by no means, are you to come to the house with the other mourners afterward.” He paused to let the message sink in. “Got it?”

There wasn’t really much to say. “Got it,” I answered.

Tim, who had seen everything, left his family and came over to stand next to me as I watched the guy walk away.

“Like I said earlier,” Tim said with a little laugh, “welcome back.”