“Mel, how are you ever going to figure this out?" Shelley asked. "It seems like such a huge, amorphous wad of information."
“Slowly. Carefully. Bit by tiny bit," he said grimly. "And without any interference from you two if I can manage it.”
Jane and Shelley ignored this comment. "Do you think the two incidents are connected?" Shelley asked. "Emma's death and Stone-cipher's?"
“Maybe. When two people from one small office die within a couple days of each other, one by murder and one under strange circumstances, that has to be a possibility," he said.
“Isn't there physical evidence from either one?" Jane asked. "Fibers, fingerprints, blood drops, that kind of thing?"
“Tons in Emma's case, ninety-nine percent of which will turn out to be entirely irrelevant," he said. "And the same is true at the deli. But eventually it'll fall together.”
Jane gave him A Look. "You're not telling us everything, are you?”
He just smiled back. "Am I supposed to? How's Mike liking his new truck?" he asked, signifying that police confidences were over.16 Shelley called first thing in the morning. "The paper says Stonecipher's funeral is this morning. Are we going?"
“Shelley, you know how I hate funerals. Do we have to?"
“No, but aren't you curious to see how the grieving widow who was about to divorce the late unlamented carries it off? Her wardrobe choice alone ought to be worth the effort."
“You are a callous woman," Jane said.
“So are you, and you know it.”
Jane sighed. "What time?"
“Eleven.”
Rhonda Stonecipher had split the difference between grief and gaiety. She wore a gray linen suit with a matching hat that even had a suggestion of a veil. "Where did she find that!" Shelley whispered. "That's a great hat!”
But with the gray suit, she wore a gray, white, and fuschia — striped silk blouse with a matching fabric purse and a drapey fuschia scarf affixed with a large silver pin. It was a stunning outfit. She maintained a dignified and aloof manner, sitting at the front of the church with a number of people who were presumably members of her family or that of her late husband. She dabbed her eyes daintily from time to time with an old-fashioned fabric handkerchief with lacy trim.
There was a man who looked like an older version of Robert Stonecipher, who was presumably his brother. A very small woman with sharp, foxy features stood by him. A middle-aged woman who looked a great deal like Rhonda, without the money to dress as well, was in the front pew as well, with a man who looked like he'd rather be almost anywhere else. A woman in her twenties who must have been Rhonda's daughter because she had Rhonda's features, but very fair coloring, stood next to her mother. She was holding a baby.
“Rhonda must be a grandmother," Jane whispered to Shelley. "She sure keeps that quiet.”
Jane found herself feeling sorry for Tony Belton. Rhonda had apparently forced him to sit with her and the family, and he looked miserable. Rhonda shared his hymnal, leaning ever so slightly on his arm. The family members on her other side kept shooting him murderous glances. Or perhaps they were aimed at Rhonda and merely ricocheting.
Jane guessed the Stoneciphers weren't regular churchgoers, or perhaps the minister just didn't know them well. It was a generic service, without any reference to the man's life or circumstances surrounding his death.
Tony Belton gave a very short eulogy with the air of a man who had been forced into it, but did a workmanlike job. He concentrated, without being specific, on Stonecipher's civic interests. "His ideas weren't always popular," he admitted, "but he did what he thought he had to for the greater good of the community." As he meandered off into an account of Stonecipher's education, Jane's attention wandered. The church was less than half full, and those attending the service were widely scattered, as people do when they're attending a funeral out of duty, not friendship.
Patsy Mallett had come in her role as business acquaintance. She was sitting alone and looking down intently, as if she had something in her lap she was reading. As Jane watched, Patsy wet her finger to turn a page.
Grace Axton was there as well. Also alone. She stared straight ahead, absolutely expressionless, her mind probably a thousand miles away.
There was a contingent of men who had to be lawyers judging by their golf tans and ex‑ pensive summer suits. A few couples who were probably neighbors were sitting here and there, and several small groups of women filled in some of the gaps. Jane vaguely recognized a few of them as what remained of a once-large segment of society known as "clubwomen" — those ladies whose lives revolved around the garden club, beautification projects, and various good works. Jane found herself cynically wondering how many of them had gotten stuck paying for a lunch or dinner or drink for Rhonda.
When the service was done, Jane whispered, "I don't do gravesides."
“Neither do I," Shelley answered. "I'm surprised Grace was here. Who's that woman she's talking to?"
“That's Patsy Mallett. Come meet her.”
Jane introduced the two women and left them gingerly assessing each other while she walked out to the parking lot with Grace Axton. "I was surprised to see you here," she said frankly to Grace.
“I thought since the man actually died in our place, somebody should show up. But it was a mistake. I've never felt like such a hypocrite in my life," Grace replied.
“Is Sarah home from the hospital?" Jane asked. Grace nodded while rummaging in her purse for car keys. "How's she doing?"
“Oh, fine. Fine. I think she'd be better ifConrad would stop protecting her. But it's none of my business. I've got to rush, Jane."
“Sure. I didn't mean to hold you up.”
Shelley and Patsy emerged from the church a minute later, talking and nodding. Good, Jane thought. Often people who were a lot alike got along well. Occasionally they took an instant dislike to each other. But it looked as if Shelley and Patsy were hitting it off great. Jane finally pried them apart and drove home. "We're meeting Patsy at two to talk about the high school graduation night plans for next year," Shelley said. "Fascinating woman.”
When Jane got home, Todd was sitting at the kitchen table eating a bowl of cereal and fending off the cats, who were sitting on chairs, watching every slurpy bite and hoping for a milk spill. "Mike's been calling and calling, Mom. You're supposed to call him back at the deli.”
Alarmed, Jane dialed. Mike answered. "What's wrong?" she asked.
“Calm down, Mom. I just left my billfold at home with my driver's license."
“Oh, is that all! You scared me. Why didn't you just come home and get it?"
“Because there's a cop sitting out front with a speed trap."
“Then don't speed or walk home.”
Mike didn't even bother to scoff at the idea of walking. "Mom, you want to talk about what'll happen to your insurance rates if he decides to stop me anyhow and I'm driving without a license?"
“Okay, okay. You're right. Where's the billfold?”
She ventured into his room, trying not to see the piles of dirty laundry, trying not to think how very soon this room would be unoccupied most of the time and dirty laundry would be a welcome sight, and found the billfold just where he said it was. Instead of parking in front, she pulled through the alley and parked next to Mike's truck in the back. He was loading carry-out lunches into the back. She handed over the billfold.
“Thanks, Mom. Listen—" he said, taking her aside and lowering his voice. "Something weird. I parked here this morning about an hour ago, went inside to help out, and when I came back out, I realized somebody had been in the truck."
“What?"
“They didn't take anything. There's nothing to take. I left my portable CD player at home today. I guess maybe somebody knew I had one and was going to grab it."