Chapter Nineteen

I entered the building and took a step back after being hit with the powerful scent of flowers. Once I got my footing again, I went ahead and signed the visitor book. In doing so, I noticed the single name Angel printed in all capitalized letters a few lines above. How odd, is the only thought that came to mind.

The sound of the preacher's voice coming from the podium where he stood in front of the coffin saved me from stepping up to view Thomas one last time. Or perhaps, from spitting on him like I know Joe might do if he were here. But I saw Joe wasn't here after I sank into one of the numerous vacant folding chairs in the last row of several.

Angel sat alone in the front row. Allen's secretary was seated a few rows back between two elderly men. A few other seniors and several young women sat scattered around the room.

The preacher was short on sermon and closing prayer. Lost in private thoughts, mostly trying to figure out why Angel was here, people began to depart before I was fully aware the service was officially over. I looked around just in time to see Angel hurrying out the door. I jumped up, bringing the chair up with me. There wasn't time to be embarrassed by my situation. I needed to free my dress so I could catch up to Angel before it was too late.

Two tugs and I was free to go. Only, a large section of my dress remained behind. I ignored the stares and whispers as I did my skip-hop-thing to the door.

By the time I got outside, Angel was gone. A few cuss words were said under my breath as I limped to my car. I not only had missed my chance to confront Angel, but had ruined the dress I planned to wear again when I attended Ethel's funeral.

By the time I was situated behind the wheel of my car, I thought about driving to the cemetery. There was a good possibility Angel would be there to witness Thomas lowered into the ground. But why? And why would she tell me if I confronted her?

I didn't join the small parade of vehicles to the hillside cemetery. I'm not sure why, but I suddenly felt the need to see Mitch.

Perhaps he could shed some light on why doll-eyes had attended Thomas's funeral. Or it just could be that I wanted to share this information with him in hopes he would share any new information he had on the investigation into Ethel's murder.

I drove around town to some of Mitch's regular haunts, but didn't see his truck anywhere. So I headed for his small farm outside of town. His truck wasn't parked outside the sun-bleached, two-story wood house or behind the makeshift barn. But I gave the front door a try anyway. It was locked and no one answered the several raps I gave the door.

I headed back toward town, thinking I'd take another spin through. If not Mitch, maybe I'd spot Francie. Never in my wildest imagination did I expect to pass Joe's old Mercedes on Broadway.