Heart breaker, p.11
Heart Breaker, page 11
Bern glanced around the church. Leona Thomas was a well-liked, well-loved woman. Students, former students, parents, fellow teachers, friends, family—they’d all gathered at St Martin’s Catholic Church to farewell a beloved member of their community. People shifted in their seats as the priest chanted something in Latin in a low voice, the cloud of incense wafting over the crowd.
The church was built of dark brick, the interior gloomy and dim, the fog outside masking any external light.
He glanced over at Josh. His friend was standing behind some adults, listening unobtrusively to the conversation, his expression sombre. Bern surveyed the crowd, grateful for the inconspicuous plainclothes constables taking photos of the congregation from a distance using manual photography apps for low-light settings. He didn’t really think the killer would turn up for Leona Thomas’s funeral, but it always paid to take every precaution, just in case.
He glanced over at Harmony, standing so stoically, so seriously, next to her mother and aunt. Just once, he’d like to see her smile, maybe laugh. Of course, this was neither the time nor the place. Elizabeth Talbot was sobbing uncontrollably into a fistful of tissues. Jennifer Thomas leaned quietly into Harmony’s side, and he watched as Harmony lifted an arm and embraced the woman. Surprisingly, Harmony’s mother was the emotional one, and Leona’s mother was the quiet one. He would have thought it would be the reverse. He glanced at the young woman standing between them. Harmony’s own eyes were masked by the sunglasses she wore, and despite the bulk of her coat, she still looked chilled to the bone. He had to fight the desire to go to her side and hold her close. Ever since that evening at her mother’s home, he’d tried to avoid her. It was cowardly, it was pathetic, but he’d come so damn close to kissing her, he didn’t know what else to do. He couldn’t afford a personal entanglement and couldn’t seem to control his desire when he was around the woman, so the best alternative had been the obvious one. Run. Hide. Like he should have with Marianne, all those years ago.
The priest made an announcement from the podium; everyone was invited to the nearby golf club for the wake. There would be no public cremation service. He said the final blessing, and everyone made the sign of the cross. Bern hid a wince when Harmony’s sobbing mother wailed louder as the pallbearers, probably members of the extended family, stepped forward to lift the coffin, directed by a woman in a white suit. The funeral home staff were all women wearing white suits, he’d noticed. Harmony stood behind the coffin for a moment, her chin lifted, but he noted the soft tremble to her lips before she pursed them in a straight line. She stepped back so the two older women could follow directly behind the coffin, and Bern didn’t miss the subtle manoeuvre as she guided the wailing woman to the side of her silent sister.
The pair clutched at each other, leaning into each other as they slowly marched behind the exiting coffin. Harmony followed, and more family and friends fell in behind. He knew when Harmony saw him. Her brow furrowed, and her step slowed, but she politely inclined her head as she passed.
‘She didn’t look so happy to see us,’ Josh commented.
Bern’s eyebrow rose. ‘This is her cousin’s funeral. Of course she’s not happy.’ Josh was right though. She didn’t look too happy. It probably had something to do with the ‘no comment’ comments he’d given her when she’d managed to track him down.
‘Did you hear that reference to her father? What’s that all about?’
Bern nodded, his eyes on the slender woman as he stepped out from behind the pew. ‘I have no idea.’ The priest had mentioned something about two angels being taken before their time, and the man who’d given the eulogy, an African American called Smiley—a naming contradiction, going by the man’s stern countenance—had said that Leona Thomas’s death was the second tragic death in the family. ‘What happened to Leona’s father?’
‘Prostate cancer,’ Josh replied, lifting his sunglasses, frowning, then putting them back in his jacket pocket as he stepped out of the dark church into the grey, dismal morning. ‘I heard a couple of his cousins talking about it.’
‘Well, cancer is tragic ...’ Bern said, as he watched individuals and families approach Harmony and the two older women. ‘We should pay our respects.’ A young woman with long, jet-black hair was hugging Harmony and whispering in her ear. Harmony nodded, a faint trace of a smile on her face.
He stepped into the crowd that was filtering past the grieving members of Leona’s family. He waited patiently behind an older gentleman who was currently holding Harmony’s mother’s hands.
‘I’m so sorry, Elizabeth. This must bring back so many dark memories for you. First Mark, now Leona.’ The old man shook his head. ‘Such a tragedy.’
‘I know, Leonard. A second murder. I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve this,’ Elizabeth responded, and Harmony rubbed her arm. Bern shot Josh a glance, and Josh’s shoulders rose in a brief shrug.
‘You haven’t done anything,’ the gentleman named Leonard reassured her. ‘Unfortunately, these things happen without rhyme or reason.’ He smiled sadly. ‘If there’s anything I can do, just let me know.’
‘Thank you, Leonard,’ the other woman murmured, and Bern glanced at her. Jen’s face was lined with sorrow, her brown eyes dark with grief. The funeral was taking a toll on her. She seemed so different to the quietly proud mother he’d sat with a few nights earlier. Nigel stepped aside, and suddenly Bern was looking at Harmony. Her expression was calm, controlled, yet pale and drawn. He wished she’d remove her sunglasses. He wanted to see her eyes, wanted to see what was really going on inside that beautiful head.
‘Detective Inspector Knight, Detective Hamilton, thank you for coming,’ Harmony greeted them, her voice low and oh-so-formal. She was putting him in his place. Yep. Not happy at all.
Jennifer Thomas took his hand, and covered it with her own, and he gazed into her sad brown eyes. ‘Thank you for coming, Detectives. We appreciate it.’
‘We’re deeply sorry for your loss,’ he responded sincerely.
Jennifer’s smile didn’t reach her eyes. ‘Thank you.’
‘You have to catch whoever did this,’ Elizabeth sniffled as tears tracked down her cheeks.
‘Mum, the funeral folks are ready to go. Why don’t you and Jen get in the car, and the others will follow on behind,’ Harmony said smoothly, stepping away to direct her mother towards a woman in white, who smiled gently and opened the door to the black limousine. ‘I’ll meet you at the club, later.’
He watched for a moment as Harmony said something quietly to one of the female funeral directors, whose eyes widened, then she nodded and patted Harmony’s arm. The woman then went to the back of the hearse and removed a white rose tribute from on top of the coffin, giving it to a fellow director with whispered instructions, who took it back into the church.
‘She doesn’t want white roses on her cousin’s coffin,’ Bern murmured.
Josh grimaced. ‘Understandable, under the circumstances.’
Harmony turned back to them, and Bern resisted the impulse to reach over and remove those damn concealing sunglasses.
‘Is there anything new on Leona’s case?’ she asked quietly, then half-smiled as more mourners followed the family car out of the church drive.
‘We’re looking at some things,’ he said. She shot him a look, and even with her sunglasses shielding most of her expression, he could clearly read her frustration. He remembered her remark from the station, about that phrase only being used when detectives had nothing to go on. ‘We are,’ he assured her. They were checking CCTV footage from any camera they could find in the neighbourhood. Josh was going through Leona’s class files, to see if there were perhaps any issues with parents or colleagues, but so far nothing had pinged. But they were investigating. He wanted Harmony to know that, to take some reassurance, some strength from the fact that people still cared what had happened to her cousin, and wanted justice for her.
He watched as the cars left the drive. ‘I notice there’s no cemetery service,’ he commented, his curiosity piqued.
She shook her head. ‘No. My aunt can’t bear the thought of seeing her daughter’s coffin being cremated, and my mother doesn’t handle that sort of stuff well. It was decided they would say their farewells in their own private way.’
Her mouth pulled down at the corners. Not angry, just ... saddened. The driver of the hearse nodded at her, and she waved, then turned to him. ‘Thank you for coming, it ... I appreciated it.’ She almost looked surprised by the admission. She started to walk towards the hearse.
‘Harmony ...’ he called softly, and she turned. ‘How did your father die?’ He kept his voice low, calm.
Harmony gaped for a moment, then glanced at the car, then her watch. ‘Not here. I’ll, uh—I’ll call you.’
He nodded, and watched as she climbed into the car. The driver glanced at him curiously, and Josh stepped up to his side.
‘Okay, now I’m curious,’ his friend muttered.
‘That makes two of us.’
Maddie Richardson smiled when she read the text. Hope you like green faces. He’d done it. He’d actually gotten his hands on some tickets to the musical. She thumbed her response. Seriously? When?
Tonight. Meet you in front of the theatre @ 7. Can’t wait.
Me, too! She did a little jumpy dance in her seat. They were finally going to meet. She couldn’t believe it. Stu Mensen wanted to take little old Madeline Richardson out. God, he was hot. Omigod. What to wear? She’d have to race home from work. Thank god she’d shaved her legs this morning. She toyed with the necklace he’d sent her as she mentally catalogued her wardrobe.
‘What are you so excited about?’
Maddie glanced up from her desk. Ellie Polding, the fiftyish-year-old woman from accounts, looked at her with a curious expression, and Maddie placed her phone back down on her desk.
‘Nothing,’ she responded tartly. The old biddy stuck her nose into everybody’s business, and neither she nor Stu wanted anyone to know about them, not yet. He wanted to take things slow, and she appreciated his patience, his tenderness. He was nothing like Jimmy-the-bastard. Or Rick-the-dick.
‘You look like the cat that swallowed the cream,’ Ellie commented, and a little snark crept into her tone. Maddie’s smile slipped, and she frowned as she keyed in the code to switch off the call-forwarding on the main switchboard. She was back from lunch, and didn’t want to talk to self-righteous Ellie Polding. The woman already gossiped about her and her relationships. She’d overheard her once in the ladies’ restroom, calling her a slut who slept with guys on the first date. At the time she’d told herself Ellie was just jealous. Maddie lifted her chin. She’d never slept with anyone on the first date. She always tried to hold out until the third date, if the guy had potential. Three was her lucky number.
Although, Stu was so hot she might not be able to hold out for that long. And he was so sweet. She’d seen the photos on his Facebook account, helping all those little kids at the rural soccer clinic. Good-looking, good with kids, and he was a millionaire—which was why he wanted to keep their relationship quiet. He didn’t want to have his private life splashed over the tabloids. And he was obviously really good at keeping his private life private—she hadn’t even heard of him before he sent her a text. It was still so thrilling, knowing that while she’d been totally oblivious to his presence at Scott and Fran’s birthday bash, some gorgeous millionaire had been checking her out and was totally captivated by her. That’s what he’d said, in that first text. He’d seen her at the party, and had asked Scott for her number. Now they were friends on Facebook, and she’d been able to check him out. He played polo, drove a Lamborghini, and did a lot of goodwill work in between his business trips to Dubai and China.
She adjusted the headset so that her ears were covered, giving Ellie a pointed look before answering the first incoming call. She couldn’t wait to wipe that supercilious, smug smile off Ellie’s face when Stu took her on his next trip to the Middle East. He’d already given her a beautiful necklace, and wanted to match it with more jewellery—this time gold jewellery—when she could model it in person.
Ellie rolled her eyes and huffed her chubby butt back to accounts. Probably to spread more rumours about her.
Maddie directed the calls, glancing at the clock on the wall of reception. Roll on five o’clock.
CHAPTER
10
Harmony watched as the coffin receded on its tracks, and the blue curtains closed, like a brocade embrace for the dead. The funeral director smiled gently at her, and placed a hand on her shoulder.
‘Take as long as you need. Your cousin was the last one through here today.’
Harmony nodded, then sat there, silent, as the woman left. It was done. Leona was gone.
She took a deep, shuddering breath. She was gone. This was it. The funeral was over.
She was the sole person now responsible for the elders.
This time the panic spun quickly, like a sudden twister, touching down without warning. She sucked in a breath, her fingers tightening on the strap of her handbag as she tried to cling to calm, to normality. A chill crept over her shoulders, yet a warm flush rose in her cheeks, and the room started to swim around her. The walls heaved, closing in on her like a giant, suffocating cocoon. She couldn’t do this. Not alone.
Jen ... Jen was heartbroken. Leona would want her to look after her, would expect her to. That’s what they’d promised each other. If something were to ever happen to one of them, the other would take care of the family. She had to take care of the family.
She rose to her feet, panting as she clutched her midriff. Harmony felt like the captain of a ship, but a ship that was being steered perilously close to sharp, piercing rocks by her mother.
Harmony stumbled towards the exit. I’m f—f—fine. I’m s—s—safe. Oh, god. How was she going to do this? How could she help her mother? Or Jen? She, who didn’t even own a damn cat. She’d tried owning goldfish. It hadn’t ended well. She giggled, then bit the sound off when she heard the hysteria.
I’m f—f—f— She tried to swallow. Who was she kidding? She paused at the door, turning to face the room and trying to count the chairs lined up, stretching towards the front of the chapel ... and the tricky little cavity that Leona had slid into.
She raced through the numbers. No. Too quick. She deliberately tried to slow down her count, but the numbers galloped through her mind in time with her pounding heart. She had to get out of here. She needed to run, run far away. She whirled around, a bead of perspiration trailing down the side of her face as she burst out into the car park. She inhaled in quick, dragging breaths, like a sprint runner.
She staggered towards her mother’s car, which one of the funeral directors had driven over for her. Maybe she could hide, drive away where nobody could find her, where she wouldn’t be responsible for so ... much. Her stomach heaved, and she swallowed.
‘Harmony?’
Oh, god, no. Of all people, no, no, no. She shook her head, but couldn’t catch her breath to speak as Knight stepped away from his own vehicle, his curious expression changing to concern as he approached her. Realisation dawned in his eyes as she held up her hand, trying to ward him off, trying to make him disappear. Her fingers fluttered like an epileptic butterfly. She didn’t want him to see her like this. She didn’t want anyone to see her like this, but definitely not him.
‘Harmony.’ His tone was soft and full of sympathy as he wrapped his arms around her gently, tucking her head against his broad chest. ‘It’s okay, Harmony.’
She shook her head, her eyes wide, her heart hammering in her chest. This was not okay. Her cousin was dead. Murdered. Her mother was one tear away from another overdose, and she had to hold everything together. She hated that, hated feeling responsible for her mother’s sanity, hated her mother for being so weak, then hated herself and the crushing tons of guilt for hating her mother, a woman so monumentally damaged by things outside of her control, and who deserved more love, more tolerance, more help than she knew how to show.
‘Shh, it’s okay, Harmony.’ He rocked her in a rhythm that was shockingly soothing. His heart thudded, strong and regular, in her ear. One, two ... she kept counting, closing her eyes as she blocked everything out and calmed herself to the beat of his heart. She was fine. She was safe. The fog had finally started to burn off, and the late afternoon sun beat down on the top of her head and shoulders as her breathing slowed, her pulse calmed. Warmth. She was surrounded by warmth and ... strength. She inhaled. He smelled divine.
From the regular heartbeat pounding reliably in her ear, to the strong arms that held her against a broad, muscled chest, she felt ... protected? She opened her eyes and stared at the clump of pencil pines lining the drive. Protected? She hadn’t felt that since—well, since she was fourteen.
‘My father was murdered.’ The words popped out of their own volition. It was easy to say it, staring at a trimmed conifer, in a place designed to honour the dead, and not have to see the shock, the pity, the caution. He said nothing, just continued to rock her, while his heart beat in her ear with a reassuring rhythm. ‘He was shot.’
He kept silent, and for once she actually found herself wanting to see the reaction. She lifted her head, and tried to step back to read his expression, but he held her close for a moment, looking down at her.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said.
She smiled sadly. ‘You have nothing to apologise for.’ Her smile slipped. ‘The guy that did it—well, he has a lot to answer for.’ Her mouth drooped. ‘But he’s never been caught.’
