Faye Kellerman - Prayers for the Dead

“I’ve got an interview scheduled with Myron Berger in an hour. Maybe I’ll snag a few hours between Berger, my paperwork, and Azor Sparks’s memorial service.”

“They’re doing a memorial service before the viewing, the rosary, and funeral?” Martinez questioned.

“It’s not a Catholic service, Bert. It’s a Fundamentalist service. The doctor’s church.”

Martinez said, “Still, they didn’t want to wait until the body was released and do a funeral?”

“Apparently not.”

“When’s the memorial service?”

“Three P.M.”

“That should be interesting,” Marge said. “Everyone crammed together in one spot. See how they all react with one another.”

Decker said, “That’s why I’m going.”

At first, he thought the noise was his brain bouncing against his cranium. Then he realized that someone was at the door. Bram lifted his head from his folded arms, blinked back nausea. He had fallen asleep at his desk.

His mouth felt like sandpaper, his limbs ached, his body a plexus of raw synapses. Fingers crawling like spider legs, he felt around the desktop for his glasses. Found them and slipped them on. Immediately, everything came too clearly into focus. He stood on unstable legs, went to open the door.

Luke. Still had on the same sloppy sweater and jeans. By now, he smelled pretty rank. They both did.

“Sorry, did I wake you?”

Bram looked at his watch. “I had to get up for six o’clock Mass anyway. I need a shower something awful. I can’t believe I fell asleep. You want some tea, bro?”

“Sure, bro.” Luke skipped around a floor covered with books and papers as Bram trudged over to the water machine. The priest took out a couple of tea bags, dropped them into plastic cups and doused them with hot water. “Sit. What’s going on at home?”

Luke parked himself on a folding chair. “Eva left around two, Mag and Mike went to sleep about a half hour later. Me? I’ve just been driving around and around and around and around…”

After handing his brother his tea, Bram sat at his desk. “You might try going home.”

“I’ve got a great idea, Abram. Why don’t I put on your collar and conduct Mass. And you go home to Dana-”

“Lucas-”

“What did she say when you called her?”

“What do you think? She’s worried sick about you-”

“Betcha she invited you over-”

“Don’t start-”

“She didn’t ask you to come over?”

Bram said nothing. Luke clapped his hands, pointed to his brother. “Gotcha. Did you go?”

“No, I didn’t go! It wasn’t my place, and I certainly wasn’t in the mood to wax pastoral.” Bram’s face hardened. “You should have called her. You. Not me. You should go home and be with her right now.”

“You be with her. After all, she was your girlfriend.”

Bram closed his eyes, dropped his head in his hands. Then he looked up. “That was almost two decades ago. Things change in twenty years. For instance, I wasn’t a priest in high school-”

“Just calm her down for me, bro.”

“I’m tired of calming her down, Luke. Truth be told, I’ve had it up to here with Dana.” Bram brushed his forehead with his hand. “I’m sick to death of being your go-between. You married her. Not me. Deal with it.”

“All right, all right, I’ll go home.” Luke squirmed in his seat, but gave no indication of rising. He sipped tea, eyed his brother through swollen eyes. “Who the hell would murder Dad?”

Bram shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“I mean I’m so dumbfounded, I don’t even know how to ask the right questions.”

“Don’t ask questions,” Bram said. “As a matter of fact, don’t think. It’ll drive you crazy. Let the police think. Let the police ask the questions.”

“I just wished the lieutenant would have talked more. Told us more. Not the gory details. But some details. Some theories. And I sat there like a turnip or worse, being a wiseass.” His eyes became wet. “He should have told us more.”

“He came to my office a little while ago.”

“What did he want?”

“He asked about Dad and his weekend warriors.”

“How’d he find out about that?”

“Dad had cards printed up. A Harley logo with the name ACE SPARKS printed on it, can you believe that?”

“You’re kidding.” Luke settled back in his chair. “Old Azor had a fantasy life?”

“Looks that way.”

“That’s wild.” Luke smiled. “Maybe he had some busty biker mama on the side.”

“You’re obscene.”

“Don’t they say that the biggest sinners always pray the loudest?”

Bram started to rebuke his brother, but instead laughed softly. Then he grew serious. “What a crazy world we live in…where some animal could wipe out such a great man.”

“You think it was a random act of violence, then.”

“Yes, of course.” Bram paused. “Don’t you?”

“I don’t know what to think.”

The room went quiet.

Luke said, “Paul got hold of William Waterson, by the way. He stopped by to express his deepest sympathies.”

“That was nice of him.”

“Waterson said he’d take care of the funeral…pay the expenses out of Dad’s estate…which of course all goes to Mom.”

“That makes sense.”

“It’s a real big estate, bro. We couldn’t get the exact figures out of him, but it was clear that Dad was worth a lot of money. More than we…”

Bram said, “Mom’s going to need lots of help and support now. It’s good she won’t have to worry about money.”

“I’m just wondering if Mom’s up to it?”

The priest waited for his twin to continue.

“Mom isn’t Dad,” Luke stated. “A fortune suddenly drops in her lap, she isn’t used to dealing with that kind of balance sheet…I don’t want people to rip her off, that’s all.”

“She’s not helpless without Dad-”

“I didn’t say she was.”

“She handled all the household finances-”

“That’s not the same thing as investing and maintaining a seven-figure bank account. Dad’s always taken care of her, Golden. I’m suggesting we keep a watch over her.”

“Fine. We’ll keep a watch over her.”

Luke scratched his head. “Waterson mentioned something about an insurance policy also.”

“Good.”

“Six million bucks, to be exact.”

“Whoa!” Slowly, Bram sat back in his chair. “Man, that is a lot of money.”

“A proverbial shitload.”

“I don’t recall the word shitload in the Book of Proverbs, but yes, that’s a tremendous haul.” Bram paused. “That is a large insurance policy. The premiums must have been enormous. I wonder why Dad did that when he had so much in the bank. I love Mom, but she doesn’t spend on anything except food. What in the world is she going to do with six million dollars?”

“Mom’s not the beneficiary.”

Bram stared at his brother.

“Six million…six kids.” Luke shrugged carelessly. “Dad was always an even-handed guy.”

Bram opened, then closed his mouth. “You’re kidding!”

“You should have been there when Waterson told us. Paul’s eyelids were beating so fast, he just about flew away.”

Again, the office went quiet.

Luke said, “A rather fortunate windfall for him-”

“Luke-”

“The man is in deep debt.”

“David and Eva aren’t doing so hot, either.”

“Nothing like Paul. He’s drowning in red ink.”

“Your insinuations are ugly.”

“So you’re better than me. We already know that.”

Bram stared at his brother, then rubbed his eyes. “You want some advice?”

“Can I stop you?”

“Truth be told, Lucas, even I, the saint of St. Thomas’s, entertained the same thought as you about Paul. But I’m smart enough not to verbalize it. Because once you talk, you can’t take it back. Do you ever think before you speak?”