Paddy Plays in Dead Mule Swamp (13 page)

Chapter 20

The rest of Tuesday was uneventful but
productive. I painted a little bit, but was interrupted by a call
from Adele letting me know that the memorial service for Angelica
was scheduled for eleven a.m. the next day, to be followed by a
light luncheon. I passed that information on to Cora, and told her
to expect me at ten-thirty, but she said Tom would pick her up, so
that she’d be free to leave when she wanted. Adele had suggested I
bring something, so I made a quick run into town and bought
cucumbers, lemon gelatin, and cottage cheese to make one of my
favorite molded salads. I also stopped at Jouppi’s and picked up
more accent-paint sample cards, this time in tones of wine and
plum.

I spent a lot of time pondering what
the atmosphere might be at the service. As it turned out, my
imagined scenarios were wrong in nearly every way.

On Wednesday, I arrived at the church
a bit early to deliver my salad, and just as I was emerging from
the fellowship hall to cross into the auditorium, Cora and Tom
entered the building. I joined forces with them, and we found seats
toward the back, near the right side. A teenage usher handed us
programs as we entered, and the organist was playing tunes I didn’t
recognize, but which seemed quite upbeat for funeral music. The
pews weren’t full, but there was a decent turnout. I was glad to
see that people apparently wanted to be supportive. I studied the
groups of people, and saw more than a few who seemed to be the same
age as Angelica would have been, probable friends or
classmates.

“That’s Jordan and Kaitlyn Wilcox, up
there,” Cora said. She was following my eyes. “No, the ones farther
right with the baby. Kaitlyn was in Angie’s class. And so was Marty
Ashton. He’s over there with his parents. Marty was special ed, but
he’s harmless.” The man she indicated was pudgy and seemed to be
sitting very close to his mother, for an adult. He turned, and I
recognized the features of a person with Down Syndrome. For all the
facts we had, almost anyone who knew Angelica might have been
involved in her death, but I found it hard to suspect
Marty.

Angelica’s family was seated in the
left front row. DuWayne and Len wore suits. I had to admit that
DuWayne did not look at all like a thug when he was dressed up. He
looked like a successful young businessman, although I had no idea
what he really did for a living. The permanently uncomfortable
angle of Len’s back made his clothes fit poorly, with wrinkles in
odd places, but when he turned to look over the room I could see
that his shirt and suit had been pressed recently. He nodded and
smiled at me.

This action made Sunny turn around.
She wasn’t smiling, but she waved at me in a subdued way. I waved
back. Star seemed to be concentrating on something she held in her
hands, and she wasn’t paying attention to anyone else. The girls
wore similar outfits, which had been true every time I’d seen them.
For the service, they had chosen scoop-neck t-shirts in deep gold,
and tiered peasant skirts in various subdued prints. Not identical,
but very similar.

A few more people drifted in,
including a young couple I didn’t know, who took the pew right
behind the Leonards and DuWayne Jefferson. The girl was dressed in
a short, tight leather skirt, leather jacket, and high heels. She
wore several gold chains and rings. The man also had on a leather
jacket, and his black jeans were very tight. They certainly stood
out in a room full of plainly dressed locals. Cora shook her head
when I looked at her to silently ask their identities.

Detective Milford was there,
accompanied by the deputy, Harvey Brown. Although by this time I
knew that this was Harvey’s regular church, he was in uniform, so
his presence seemed official. They had staked out the very back row
on the left, and it didn’t look as if they would welcome company.
Just at eleven, I looked around the room once more, and saw Chief
Tracy Jarvi come in and take a seat with the other law enforcement
personnel. Apparently she was not intimidated by
Milford.

Rev. Dornbaugh stood up
and began the service. I discovered the program contained not only
an order of worship, but also words to songs and readings in which
we were expected to participate. Someone had put in a lot of time
on this service over the past few days, or perhaps Len had been
planning things
for years, just in
case.

We sang songs I’d never
heard, which were identified as favorites of Angelica. One sounded
like a restaurant billboard inviting worshippers to come as they
are. Apparently, the Church had changed a lot during the years I’d
been away; no one used to come just as they were. I thought one
phrase of “Shine, Jesus, Shine” was especially pertinent: “Jesus,
light of the world shine upon us, set us free by the truth you now
bring us.”
¹
Angelica needed some truth going for her. I hoped Detective
Milford or someone would be able to provide some
answers.

There were predictable Scripture
passages, offering words of hope to the living, and a traditional
hymn, “Trust and Obey.” The program said Len had chosen that
one.

Next, Rev. Dornbaugh introduced Star
and explained that she would be reading a poem of her own
composition. Star took Sunny’s hand and together they mounted the
steps to the platform. Star seemed somewhat self-conscious, and
Sunny stared at the floor. Then Star gained her composure, took the
microphone and read from a card in her hand.

Mommy Angel, we remember,

Bedtime books and teddy
bears,

We will love you always,

And be sure to say our
prayers.

If we have one wish for
you,

It’s that Jesus is holding you
tight.

Your heavenly girls know you
have

A better home, in perfect
light.

Rest in peace, Star and
Sunny.

She fumbled to replace the microphone
in the stand, but the pastor came and took it from her, giving her
shoulder a squeeze as he did so. Then he touched Sunny on her
shoulder, and she looked up at him with the same bland, confused
expression I’d seen on her face since the body had been
found.

After some brief words by Rev.
Dornbaugh, the service ended with a prayer, and “Lead, Kindly
Light,” which the program indicated had been one of Becky’s
favorites. Then we were all dismissed to the fellowship hall for
lunch. Angelica’s family left the auditorium first, with the
pastor. I waited and watched, as other attendees filed down the
center aisle. Detective Milford and company stood silent and
scowling, carefully studying each person who had come to pay
respect.

When Cora, Tom, and I got to the
vestibule, Angelica’s family was standing in a line so that people
could walk past them and say a word or two of condolence. I saw
Sunny whisper something to her grandfather, and he nodded in
return. When we reached them Sunny said to me, “Sit with us,
OK?”

I looked at Len, and he added, “Please
do.” I felt awkward, since I was with Cora and Tom, but I should
have realized Cora had already spent enough time with a group of
people. Tom was shaking hands with DuWayne, but he didn’t speak,
perhaps aware that he spoke too loudly in church.

Cora said appropriate things to Len,
Star and Sunny, and even shook DuWayne’s hand stiffly. Then she
excused herself, took Tom’s arm and they headed for the
exit.

“I’ll join you when you’re done here,”
I said to Len. I smiled at the girls and continued to the
fellowship hall. Adele motioned for me to help set out foods, so
that gave me something to do while the Leonards were
busy.

“Did you see the Ybarras?” she
whispered as soon as I came into the kitchen.

“Who are they?”

“I can’t believe they had the nerve to
show up at church!”

“Adele, who are they? Why shouldn’t
they come?”

“Those kids that sat behind the
Leonards.”

“Kids? They looked like adults to
me.”

“Oh, sure, but they were kids with
Angie. They’re brother and sister, Pablo and Juanita.”

“Well, it’s nice that some of her
friends came.”

“Not those kinds of friends! Don’t you
know what she was messing around with?” Adele rolled her eyes.
“That’s what happens when we have to skip meetings where we can
talk. You probably don’t know. They were all dealing drugs, but our
law enforcement was so terrible back then that they never got
caught by anyone who mattered. Most of us just tried to stay out of
their way.”

“Actually, I’ve heard some of that
story. Didn’t they hang out with Larry Louama?”

“That’s a fact. That boy is nothing
but trouble! Thank goodness he’s in prison now. One less scumbag to
worry about.”

“That’s not very nice.”

“I don’t care. He was getting to the
point of... uh oh... here they all come. Better get out there and
be friendly.”

I shook my head and left the kitchen.
Sunny ran over and grabbed my hand, then led me to the table where
her sister and grandfather were just sitting down. DuWayne was
working his way toward us, bringing the Ybarras with
him.

“Len, I think you know these folks,”
he began. Len struggled to turn and shake hands before committing
his weight to the seat. He tripped on the legs of the metal folding
chair, and almost fell. I could see that he was very tired, and
also noted DuWayne didn’t reach out to steady the older man.
“Girls, and Ms. Raven, these are old friends of mine, Pablo and
Juanita Ybarra.” He looked at Star and Sunny, and added pointedly.
“They were friends with your mom, too.”

The girls didn’t seem to know what to
say, but sat there in awkward silence. The unpleasant DuWayne had
changed like a chameleon to become personable.

“We were very sorry to learn that
Angelica was really dead,” Pablo said.

“Yes, it’s such a shame. But perhaps
it’s good to know.” echoed his sister.

“It’s nice to meet you,” I said. “Do
you live around here now?”

“I’m in Detroit,” said Juanita. “Pablo
still lives in Emily City.”

“What do you do?”

Pablo answered first. “I’m a manager
at Pizza Plus.”

“I’m in sales,” added
Juanita.

“Oh, what do you sell?”

“Fad-fueled, big-ticket items to
people with too much money and time.” She flashed me a white smile
from her perfectly made-up face, and laughed, but with little
humor.

Neither of them asked me any
questions, and I wasn’t sure what else to say, but it didn’t
matter. The serving line had started and Sunny pointed and pulled
on my arm.

“Would you like me to bring you a
plate?” I asked Len.

“That would be very kind,” he
said.

We all shuffled over to the serving
table, and the Ybarras joined the line behind me. Detective Milford
materialized from somewhere and imposed himself beside the Ybarra
siblings. They glanced at him, but seemed to be missing the
intimidating signals he was sending. As I headed back toward Len,
juggling two large plates and two dessert plates, I noticed that
the detective hadn’t moved ahead in the line. I thought he must
still be making sure that everyone knew they were under scrutiny,
by virtue of his presence.

I made it to the table safely with all
the plates, and Len was content with the food choices I had made
for him. The rest of our time at the church was spent eating, or
listening to DuWayne, Juanita and Pablo making small talk about
events from the past. They seemed to have a lot of private jokes
that set off laughs, smirks and high-fives. The rest of us were not
exactly uncomfortable, but the focus had definitely moved off Len
and the girls.

I told Star how much I enjoyed her
poem and that I thought she was courageous to read it during the
service. She looked pleased. Sunny nudged me under the table, and
when I looked at her she took a deep breath. But when she spoke, it
wasn’t to me.

“Dad, I think Grandpa needs to go home
and rest. Can we leave now?”

To DuWayne’s credit, he looked at Len
with some compassion. The older man was practically shaking with
the effort to remain somewhat upright without leaning on the
table.

“Sure, Sunshine. Let’s go.” The words
were right, but DuWayne always sounded slightly angry to
me.

Star ran around the table to help Len
stand, and DuWayne turned to say goodbye to his friends who were
also on their feet and seemed anxious to leave. Sunny pulled me
down to her level.

“Dad’s leaving tomorrow afternoon. I’m
really glad,” she whispered.

- - - - - -

1. Used with permission.
Graham Kendrick ©1987 Make way Music.
www.grahamkendrick.co.uk

Chapter 21

After the Leonards and DuWayne left,
things wound down quickly. A few stragglers were still eating, but
they soon brought their plates to the pass-through to the kitchen
and then headed for the exit. The ladies’ group prided itself on
using real plates and silverware for funeral lunches. I grabbed one
of the spare aprons, tied it over my dress, and began washing
dishes. Adele was bustling about wiping off tables, so I chatted
with several other people who were helping to tidy the
kitchen.