Fatal Connections

Chapter 36

I walked straight toward Calhoun, who had moved on to chat up a middle-aged woman wearing spike heels and a little black dress that was two sizes too small. I stopped when I reached them, as if I had been invited to join their conversation.

Calhoun didn't stop talking to the cougar to look at me, so I coughed discreetly. That didn't get her attention, so I brazenly jumped right in the minute she stopped for a breath. "Hi, Marge."

Calhoun turned to me, her expression blank for a fraction of a second. But recognition came quickly and with it, Calhoun's practiced smile.

"Yes, hi. I'm sorry. What was your name?"

"Erica Jensen."

"Are you with the press?" She bared her teeth like a fricking shark.

I tried to suppress a look of disbelief. "They were my clients," I told her. Again. "The Harcourts," I added, as if that wasn't obvious.

Calhoun's eyes snapped wide open. "Oh yes, of course." The wide open smile turned into a sheepish grin. "The researcher." Calhoun shook her head. "I'm sorry, but the last few days I've been crazy busy."

Tell me about it. "I understand," I said.

As we spoke, I looked out over the gathering. Still no sign of Amy. Or the detectives. Unless the cops were conducting surveillance from enough distance to monitor the comings and goings without being seen. I explained to Calhoun how I had learned about the memorial service and came by to pay my respects.

"How are the kids doing?" I tossed the question out nonchalantly but was anxious to hear her answer.

Calhoun's expression morphed into one of concern. "I've tried to reach Amy and Jaden." She shook her head and spread her hands. "Several times. I left at least two messages with each of them, but no one called back."

In my peripheral vision, I saw Douglas give a friendly shoulder-clap-see-ya-soon to one of the guests and then stroll toward the front door. I considered intercepting him but stopped myself when I saw the pastor—minister or whatever he was—emerge from the sanctuary.

"I should go thank Reverend Leland for the lovely service," Calhoun murmured. A terse nod to me. She started to angle her body as if to turn away. "Good to see you—"

"Did he take it on himself to set up this service?" I almost shouted the question but managed to keep my voice at a civilized volume.

She looked surprised. "No, I did."

That was interesting, but I couldn't think of a follow-up that wouldn't send us down a long, twisting conversational path. So I resorted to a lie. "Well, I agree. It was beautiful." I also intended to join her in thanking the Reverend.

Reverend Leland was tall and lean, maybe in his early 50s. He had short dark hair and a folksy "aw shucks" manner. He gestured broadly as he spoke to a woman who was maybe in her 40s. As we approached, his words drifted our way.

"Thank you so much for helping me, Hannah." His baritone was thick, almost gooey, with gratitude. I think he saw Calhoun and me coming and decided to wrap it up with Hannah.

"I'm just so glad I could help." Hannah's reply was nearly as sickly sweet as the Reverend's. She looked at him with doe eyes.

Reverend Leland lowered his voice a bit and leaned toward Hannah. "I'll let you run along. I know you have a lot to handle, what with the reception . . . ." The Reverend's voice trailed off as he nodded and smiled.

Hannah beamed in return. I almost expected her to bow before she hurried out.

"Reverend Leland." Calhoun spoke as she extended a hand for him to shake.

The Reverend grasped the hand and gave it a hearty pump or two, held it maybe two seconds too long before letting it go. "My sincerest condolences on the loss of your clients, Ms. Calhoun."

Calhoun gestured toward me with her now-free hand. "I'd like you to meet Erica Jensen. She did some work for the Harcourts."

Reverend Leland gave me a look that made me feel like I was standing in a spotlight. He seemed to give off an almost radioactive energy.

"A pleasure to meet you, ma'am," he said, shaking my hand and letting me take it back at just the right moment, while he still had that toothy grin. Then his expression turned on a dime to solemn. "We are all feeling the loss of this lovely couple." He sounded so sincere. I wondered if he sold cars on the side. It was also the second time I had heard someone extol the great virtues of the Harcourts.

"Judging by the attendance . . . ." I said and smiled. I had no idea how to finish that sentence, but I let my voice trail off so Reverend Leland could infer the right words.

"Yes, ma'am." He nodded so slowly it was more like a bow. "They were a very popular couple. And not just for their travel stories."

He rambled on for a bit about how they had helped so much in organizing the upcoming Easter event. I nodded and "um-hmm-ed."

While we were talking, I surreptitiously scanned the immediate area. The place had almost entirely cleared out and there was still no sign of the detectives. The front door opened as the last few people left. Through the opening, I thought I caught a glimpse of Douglas chatting with someone. But the door closed before I could be sure.