Masquerade Ménage (Ménage Series Book 4 of 6)

Chapter 13: The Conspirator - Walter

Walter

November 4, 1966

When I return to the club, there are at least 100 cars in the parking lot, if not more. All are very affluent vehicles. A Rolls-Royce, Lamborghinis, Ferraris, and so on. As I walked up to the club entrance, I'm glad that I wore my black suit because they're having a funeral for Amanda today, here at the plantation house. You would think Robert would have called to tell me about this, considering I held her hand as she died. Maybe he thought after all that went on, I wouldn't want to be here, I told myself.

When I got to the door, Butch says nothing to me, he just nods and opens it up. The place is full of people and the entire main room is decorated for the sad occasion.

One woman said, "Look at this place, the table clothes, the flowers, they are all black and white, it's very sad, but quite elegant as well. Amanda would have approved."

What an elitist bitch. She must not have known her very well, I thought. Then I noticed the mirrors are covered in black sheets and I wondered if she was part Jewish or something. Walking into the hall, I saw that there was a line to go up to the closed casket. Standing front and center was Matt. He was acting like a good husband today. How pathetic. The man was sobbing, while he held the newborn in his arms.

As I watched a few women offered to hold the baby, Matt refused and held her even tighter. Glancing around the room, I noticed Mark Roth, their son, sitting in the chairs and visibly scowling at his father. The kid is angry all the time and how can you blame him. I'm sure he has heard all that went on. It's not like Matt ever sugar coats anything for the kid.

My son knows nothing about what I do, he's too young. But Matt lays it all out on the table for the boy, and he has seen way too many things at his young age.

Walking over to the very well-dressed kid, I try to talk to him, but Mark just turned and walked away from me without even saying a word. He's hurting, and I felt bad for him. I've never met his twin, Edward. Matt talks about him all the time, but I have only ever seen this one. We don't normally do social calls, and Matt doesn't allow the boys to come to the club meetings... yet. The few times I have met Mark, he was sitting at the restaurant, complaining to one server about his meal. The kid is cocky and rude as hell, but that's how Matt raised him.

As I turned around, Robert was sitting with a girl who I've never seen before. She looks just like Amanda and was crying while he consoled her. Maybe that is Agnes, Amanda's younger sister, I thought.

Walking over to them, I took a seat right behind Robert and waited for him to talk to me, but he did not. Because of the hysterical woman laying all over him, Robert didn't even notice me enter the room.

After a few minutes, the minister walked up to the podium and asked everyone to take a seat. He started praying in Latin, which I found odd. Then, I remembered those people using the same words from the ritual.

At that moment, I pictured Amanda and Sam running through the tunnels together, hand in hand. All I could think was, if Sam really is dead, hopefully, the two are finally together and are at peace.

The service goes on, and the place is getting more packed by the minute. Everyone was dressed in their finest. The women were in gowns and men in 3-piece suits, while some even wore black ties and tails.

While looking at all of them, Robert glanced back at me with confusion written all over his face. From his actions, he must have been wondering why I was in attendance since he never told me about the service. This perplexed me, considering I was the only one there for her last breath, other than the doctor, and it was my blood keeping her alive, that last hour of life. I held her hand as she drifted away. So why would he bother telling me, of all people, about her funeral?