I glanced over to the corner, near the back, where an elderly man hunched over his cane. “Who is he?”
“You don’t recognize him?”
I looked again. “No.”
Cooper came closer, so that he and I were now facing the same direction. His wife had disengaged herself from his arm and was now talking with my mom. “That’s Howard Liss.”
Instinctively I gasped, resisting the overwhelming urge to march over and tell him off. Not good form at a wake. “What’s he doing here?”
“He likes to ‘immerse himself’ in his stories. At least that’s his claim. Personally, I see him as a vulture, circling and hoping for some new tidbit to exploit.” Cooper winked at me. “I just wanted to let you know because you seem to be on his radar lately.”
“Thanks.”
“Rumor has it he’s targeting me next.”
“Where did you hear that?”
Cooper didn’t answer. “It was very nice to meet you, Ms. Paras. I wish you the best of luck.”
He left as Nana returned.
When we finally made it to the front of the book line, I wrote my name and address and then turned away to allow the next person access. “Aren’t you going to take a holy card?” Nana asked.
“No.”
“Hmph,” she said, as she reached in to snag one for herself. “I’ll take it then.”
“I think we can sneak out now,” I said, speaking quietly. I told them both what Phil Cooper had told me. The three of us stole peeks at Howard Liss.
“He looks like a bad person,” Mom said. “I can tell these things.”
I thought he looked rather benign. I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t a slim, white-haired, distinguished fellow leaning on a carved cane. His photo in the newspaper must be at least a decade old, I decided. Instead of a hard-hitting reporter who may or may not twist the facts to suit his journalistic fancy, this guy looked like a college professor. Somebody who taught economics, maybe. Or philosophy. And definitely nearing retirement.
“Let’s get out of here before he sees us,” I said.
We had just made it to the chapel doorway when we stopped short.
“Corinne!” Kap said with a bit too much pleasure for my tastes.
My mother said, “Kap!” with about the same expression.
“I’m so happy you were able to make it,” he said. Turning to me, he squinted. “How was Ruth to you tonight? Did she seem better?”
“Ah,” I said, hedging. “We didn’t get a chance to talk with Ruth one-on-one.” I gestured vaguely in the direction of the casket and the crowd of people surrounding it. It dawned on me that I hadn’t even gotten a glimpse of the deceased. “The line is so long…”
“We can’t have that,” he said. Taking my mother by the arm, he smiled down at me. “It’s so hard for Ruth to talk to everyone she intended to. She would be very upset if you left.”
“I don’t want to bother-”
“No bother at all.” He leaned down to speak close to my ear. “As a matter of fact, Ruth wants to ask you something.”
The skepticism must have shown on my face, because he was quick to add, “I don’t know what it is. She seems to be pushing for answers when there are none.”
“I hope there are answers soon,” I said, my impatience with being trapped at this funeral parlor with no clear means of escape showing through. “I don’t blame her a bit. As soon as they vindicate the kitchen, I’ll be able to get back to work.”
Kap’s reaction surprised me. “They haven’t allowed you back yet?”
This was in the news almost daily. I wanted to ask the man if he lived in a cave, but politeness won out. “No. Not until the medical examiner clears us.”
Howard Liss had sidled up to us and had heard most of our conversation. “Hello,” he said. “You’re Olivia Paras, aren’t you? I’m-”
“I know who you are.”
He didn’t extend his hand. Thank goodness, because I would have refused to shake it. He tilted his head with a sly smile. “I see you’ve been reading my column.”
“Yes,” I said. “And I suppose I have you to thank for all my time off.”
“That’s one way to look at it.” His eyes lasered in on mine, like Arnold Schwarzenegger’s in the first Terminator movie. “You haven’t gotten word that you’re allowed back in the kitchen yet?”
“No,” I said, keeping my voice light. “But if we were to be allowed back in, I’m sure you’d be the first to know.”
His mouth twitched. Like he was enjoying this.
Which meant it was time for me to leave. “If you’ll excuse us,” I began.
“And you must be Olivia’s mother,” Liss asked, ignoring me and turning to my mom. “A pleasure.”
I touched her arm. “Mom. Let’s go.”
Kap insinuated himself between them. “Why are you here, anyway?” he asked Liss.
They were about the same age. Both tall and white-haired. But where Liss had a cane, and the milky-white complexion of a man who spent his sunshine in front of a glowing computer screen, Kap was olive-complected, fit, and muscular. He looked like a poster boy for Viagra commercials.
Liss pulled himself up to full height, which was about an inch shorter than Kap’s. “I was going to ask Ms. Paras the exact same thing.” Again, the laser eyes. “I don’t understand,” he said, then a corner of his mouth curled up. “What is your connection to the deceased?” he asked. “Other than the fact that you fed him his final meal?”
Tiny Nana, with her big heart-and suddenly loud voice-thrust her holy card into Liss’s hand. “You know what this means? You are at a wake, mister. If you can’t behave properly, I think maybe you should go home.”
People around us began to take notice.
Liss smiled down at the card in his hand. He pointed to Minkus’s death date on the back of the picture of Saint George. “See this?” he asked. Without waiting for us to answer, he said, “This isn’t right. Carl Minkus wasn’t destined to die on this date.” He shook his head. “And if you had anything to do with it, Ms. Paras, the world needs to know that.”
My mom muttered, “You’re despicable.”
“Maybe so,” he said. “But it’s people like you who read my column.” He smiled. “And when you respond so predictably, you keep me comfortably employed.”
Much to my dismay, Ruth Minkus spotted us talking with Liss. She immediately made her way over to us, Joel at her side.
I desperately wanted to run.
“Olivia,” she said, as she drew closer. “How kind of you to come.”
If she recognized Liss, she didn’t show it. She didn’t even acknowledge Kap.
I took Ruth Minkus’s hand. “I’m sorry.”
Biting her lip, she looked away. Liss’s eyes narrowed and his gaze bounced among us all. I released Mrs. Minkus’s hand, expressed my condolences to Joel, then turned my body to exclude Liss from the group. Mom and Nana came in around me, and Kap followed, effectively closing Liss off from our conversation. “I don’t want to keep you from your guests,” I said to Ruth.
She glanced toward Kap, fixing him with a cool stare. “Would you mind? I need a moment alone with Olivia.”
My mind screamed, “No!” I wished we had never come to this thing, no matter how much Ruth had entreated. “We really should be going.”
Ruth turned to Joel, who seemed torn. “Go mingle,” she said, giving his arm a little shove. “Your father would want you to talk to everyone here. To thank them.”
Reluctant to leave his mother, he tried to argue.
“I’m fine right now,” she said. “And this is important. Go on.”
Joel left.
I wasn’t keen on leaving my mother in Kap’s clutches, but she was a savvy, grown woman. There wasn’t much I could-or should-do to stop her. Plus, Nana was with her. I wondered for a moment if this was how parents felt when their children started dating: worried, protective, unwilling to let go. I blew out a breath and followed Ruth to the far left of the room. We were near the digital display where the slideshow of Carl Minkus photos played. The current shot was one of him in uniform.