The Demise (12 page)

Chapter 14

The next morning, Braxton buried its most prominent citizen. Dignitaries, politicians, close friends and family filed into the first four rows of the Community Theater; the remaining seats filled by Lanham’s employees and local residents. By the time the service began, latecomers had to stand in the theater’s lobby where two large screens broadcast the service inside.

Julie sat beside Georgia, hoping to help her friend stay composed. She’d grabbed three extra packs of tissues in case Georgia’s ever-present hankies got soaked before the service ended. She was pleased to see Donella included in the family’s small entourage which entered last. Donella, dressed in a tailored black suit, held her back straight and her head high as she made her way to the front with the others. She wondered if Donella would keep her emotions in check as she so often did, or allow herself to grieve as others were doing.

Julie watched Brad lumber down the aisle along with several people she didn’t recognize followed by several dignitaries. Last in, Patricia entered on the arm of Donovan Street, an old friend of Peter’s from his college days at Vanderbilt. The Streets and Lanhams had often vacationed together until Donovan’s wife Nadine died of cancer the previous year. Donovan had been a fixture on Lanham’s board of trustees for more than two decades before stepping down to care for his ailing wife. With her passing and now Peter’s, Julie wondered if Donovan might be considered to step in as CEO of Lanham’s.

As the organist continued playing, Julie glanced over her right shoulder, finding a straight shot view of Matt still standing against the back wall of the auditorium. He caught her eye and gave her a quick wink before looking away. He’d come to keep a watchful eye on the crowd, and Julie wondered if someone in this room had anything to do with Lanham’s death. As the thought drifted through her mind, she noticed Christopher Smithe slip inside the auditorium and squeeze onto the crowded back row.

The service opened in prayer by Reverend Young, pastor of Braxton Community Church. Young was an interesting addition to the program since neither Peter nor Patricia Lanham ever darkened the doors of any church. Julie supposed he was simply part of the service Patricia had arranged.

A few moments later, she peeked over her shoulder just in time to see Matt’s jaw drop, his eyes focused toward the front of the auditorium. There, Harley Creech stepped up to the podium as the organist played the introduction to “The Lord’s Prayer.” Looking back, Matt’s eyes met hers again, his expression chiseled in confusion. She suppressed a smile, giving him a slight nod before turning back around.
Yes, Matt, even small-town florists can sing a tune or two.
Harley emoted through the familiar slow-paced anthem, as only Harley could, but no one could deny the glorious pipes of the town’s colorful florist.

The service continued with several eulogies, including those by the governor, a senator, and a congressman, then concluded with a more personal tribute by Donovan Street. His remembrances brought both laughter and tears to those gathered. As he finished, he struggled to say his final farewell to the man he considered his best friend.

Julie dabbed her eyes then glanced up again as the organ played quietly, preparing for the recessional. Through a space between several people in front of her, Julie spotted Donella, surprised to find her shoulders shaking as she too appeared to wipe her tears.
Poor Donella. So used to hiding her feelings, especially where Peter was concerned. I wonder if he ever knew how she felt about him? I wonder if she ever allowed herself to . . . no, of course not. She would never have stayed if they’d had something together only to have it swept away by the long succession of young, more attractive and willing lovers. What would it feel like, day in and day out
,
year after year, watching the man you love carry on so flagrantly with all those girl-toys?

Did Donella love Peter Lanham? Did she love him enough to—?

It crept in, so unexpected. That gnawing curiosity still plaguing Julie, drawing her back into the web of “research” . . . What harm could it do to pry a little deeper the next time she had a chance to visit privately with Donella? Hadn’t she intimated that she wanted to be friends?

It would be downright rude to abandon her in her hour of need. It’s the least I can do. Right?

Both Lanham’s stores reopened that afternoon, but the headquarters remained closed for the rest of the day. While the VIPs gathered at the Lanham estate for a private reception, Julie and Georgia joined others for a reception in the lobby of Lanham’s headquarters. She planned to stay for only a few minutes then slip out and go home where a long nap awaited her.

“Miss Parker.”

She turned at the sound of his voice. “Hi, Matt.”

“Nice service, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, it was.” His eyes darted around the room. Clearly, the man was still in detective mode.

“Observe anything interesting?” she asked quietly.

He gazed back at her briefly. “Perhaps. But that would be of no concern to
you
now, would it?”

“Touché. It slipped. Won’t happen again. I promise.”

He smiled, his eyes still roaming the large open lobby.

“I got the impression you were surprised to hear Harley sing.”

He laughed easily. “More like flabbergasted. I never would have imagined a guy like him could sing like that.”

“I know. I was shocked the first time I heard him too. It’s like Susan Boyle, that Scottish woman who sang on
Britain’s Got Talent.
”

“Never saw the show.”

“She walked out on that stage, all plain and dowdy, and in desperate need of some brow tweezing.”

“Ah, the unfortunate uni-brow syndrome.”

“Totally. But then she started singing “I Dream a Dream” from
Les Misérables
in the most glorious voice, almost like that of an angel.”

He was still studying the crowd around them. “I wouldn’t necessarily call Harley’s voice ‘angelic,’ but he sure can sing. Last night as I left his shop, I—” He glanced back at her.

“You what?”

“Oh, nothing. Just surprised, that’s all.”

“You went to talk to Harley last night, didn’t you?”

“Julie?”

Her father had used that same tone when she was young, just before she’d get grounded. She let it pass, biting her lip to let Matt know she got the message.

“Now where was I? Oh yes—” she continued. “I was going to tell you that Harley has appeared in several of the musicals we’ve performed at the theater. He played Tevye in
Fiddler on the Roof
and Cogsworth, the mantle clock butler in
Beauty and the Beast.
”

“Let me guess. You played Belle?”

“Unfortunately, no. I played Babette, the maid with the feather duster.”

Matt’s face creased with a smile. “Now
that
I’d loved to have seen. She was quite the saucy one, wasn’t she? Of course, I never saw it on stage; only the movie when I was a kid.”

“Of course.”

He smiled at the familiar term, his eyes locked on hers. “Of course.”

Lost in his eyes, she thought for sure he could hear her heart beating.

“Well, then. I need to—”

“Yes?”

“I’ve got a few things I need to do. Can I see you later?”

“Sure. I’m heading home for a nap shortly. Just come by any time.”

“It will be later this evening because I . . .” Another pause.

Julie covered her ears. “No, no—don’t tell me. I’m not allowed to know, remember?”

He laughed, pulling her hands free. “Very funny, Miss Marple. I’ll stop by later.”

“Okay, Matt. Be safe.”

“You too.” A moment later he was out the door.

“Hey, Julie.

She blinked, only then noticing someone had moved directly in front of her. “Brad? What are you doing here?”

He shoved his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “What do you mean?”

“I just thought you’d be at the family reception.”

His face lit up. “You thought about me?”

“Well, no, not—I didn’t mean . . . oh, never mind. I was just leaving.”

“Need a ride?”

“No, my car’s out front.”

“Okay, then I’ll walk you out. I was just leaving too.”

“But you just got here.”

“Yeah, but this party is even lamer than the one up at the estate.”

“I’d hardly call it a
party
.”

“Yeah? Whatever. I was thinking maybe you and I could—”

Georgia stepped between them. “Brad, could you give us a hand and take these trash bags out to the dumpster?”

Julie was out the door as dear sweet Georgia came to her rescue. With any luck, she’d be home and sacked out on the sofa before he made it to the dumpster.

Later that evening after a long nap, Julie went downstairs to see Gevin. She found him bent over his table working on photographs.

“Hey, Gevin.”

“I was just about to call you to come down.”

“Let me guess.” She plopped onto the stool across from him. “You wanted to know what’s for dinner.”

“No, come here. I want you to look at something.”

She padded around the tall table and joined him. “Look at what?”

“I completely forgot about some pictures I took a few days ago.” He slid an eight-by-ten glossy toward her. “I was on my way back from Nashville where I’d met a client for dinner.  As I got off the interstate, the sun had just set, and the sky was spectacular. So I pulled off the road and got out in time to capture it.”

Julie studied the photograph closely. “This is
beautiful
, Gevin. The clouds look like waves of cotton all drenched in pinks and blues.”

“I know. I’ve taken hundreds of sunset and sunrise shots, but this one was absolutely breathtaking.”

“It is. I hate that I missed it, but I’m glad you shared it with me.” She slid the picture back toward her brother. “Hey, I’m thinking takeout from The Lotus Tree. Does that sound good to you?”

Gevin slid another picture toward her. “Not now. Take a look at this one.”

“It’s the same picture, only enlarged. It’s great, Gev, but what—”

“Look closer.” He tapped on the photograph.

“Why? What am I looking for?”

“See the water tower in the background?”

“Sure, but—oh my gosh!” She picked up the picture. “Someone’s up on the water tower!”

“Not just one. There are
two
people up there. Look, this one’s facing my direction, the other with his or her back to me.”

Julie’s skin prickled with goose bumps. “When did you take this?”

Gevin looked up. “The night before Lanham was found at the base of the tower the next morning.”

They stared at each other in silence as Julie connected the dots.

She grabbed the loupe magnifier Gevin kept handy. “Then that’s got to be Peter Lanham!” She straightened. “You got a picture of him before he jumped!”

“Before he jumped or was pushed. The problem is, we can’t tell who the other person is. Or for that matter, if that’s actually Peter with his back to the camera.”

“Can’t you enlarge it again? Maybe sharpen the contrasts?”

“I’ve tried. The problem is, I was focusing on the sky when I took the shot. Everything else was intentionally out of focus.”

She leaned down, squinting into the loupe, hoping for a clearer image.

Gevin scooted his stool back and stood. “Hey Jules, Matt’s here.”

She looked up as her brother opened the studio’s front door. “Hi, Matt.”

“Hi, Julie. Gevin. I was just on my way into town and thought I’d stop by for a minute.”

“I’m glad you did. I was just about to call you.” Gevin waved him over. “You’ve got to see this.”

As he neared the table, Gevin slid the photograph toward him.

“Wow! Beautiful sunset. Nice shot, man.”