Quarry struck a match and burned the paper to a black puff. He watched it drift away, propelled by a slight breeze until it crumbled to earth a few feet away.

"Is it okay, Daddy?" Daryl said nervously.

Quarry pointed to the black puff. "That's your second strike, boy. One more, it's all over, son or not."

He turned and walked off.

CHAPTER 37

THE MAXWELL FAMILY, along with Sean King and a large crowd of mourners, watched as the preacher had his say. He read in a suitably devout tone from the scriptures, and then stepped aside to let folks come forward and touch the flower-draped coffin and have a private word with the deceased. Michelle's brothers walked up as a single group, followed by others. Later, as the crowd slowly trickled away, Frank Maxwell put his hands on his wife's coffin and bowed his head.

Michelle stood next to Sean and watched her father. He finally touched his eyes with one hand and, head still down, walked past them and on to his car. Michelle had started to reach out to grip his arm, but at the last second pulled back.

Sean said, "Are you going to go up?"

"Up where?"

"To the coffin? Last respects?"

Michelle stared up at the mahogany box holding her mom. In the background, cemetery workers stood ready to lower it into the ground. The sky was overcast. The rain would be coming soon and they were probably anxious to get on with their work. There were other funerals today; accommodating the dead was very much a full-time occupation, it seemed.

There were few things Michelle Maxwell was afraid of. But she was staring at one of them right now.

"Will you come with me?"

Sean took her arm and they walked together up to the front. She put her hand on top of the coffin, her fingers flicking at some of the flower petals.

"She never liked lilies," said Michelle.

"What?"

Michelle indicated the flowers on the coffin. "She preferred roses." As soon as she said the word, she jerked her hand back like she'd been stung.

"Are you okay?"

She stared down at her hand. There was nothing there. She hadn't been stung or bitten or anything. And lilies didn't have thorns.

She looked up at him.

"Michelle, are you okay?" he said again.

"I… I don't know." She added more firmly, "Let's get out of here."

Back at the house there were mounds of food, friends stopping by; quiet, somber talk mixed with the occasional joke and twitter of laughter. In the middle of it all Frank Maxwell sat on the couch and stared off. Anyone who approached him to offer condolences was soon on his way when the man failed to even acknowledge their presence.

Sean watched Michelle, who was watching her father. When a group of people came in, Frank Maxwell finally did stir. The scowl on his face made Michelle and Sean turn to see what he was looking at. Six people had come in the door, four men and two women. They were carrying platters of food and were chatting among themselves. Michelle recognized a few of them from the funeral service. When she turned back to her father, she started.

He was gone.

She and Sean exchanged glances. Sean motioned toward the back hall where the master bedroom was located. Then he tapped his chest and nodded at the new group of folks. Michelle blinked her understanding at him and headed for the bedroom.

She tapped on the door.

"What!"

Her father sounded angry.

"It's me, Dad."

"I'm just taking a minute," he said. His tone was calmer but she could still sense the underlying fury.

"Can I come in?"

A thirty-second silence passed.

She tapped again. "Dad?" she finally said.

"All right. Jesus, come in."

She opened the door and then closed it behind her. Her father was sitting on the edge of the bed holding something. She sat next to him and glanced down.

It was their wedding photo. They'd done it right. A big church service with her mom looking radiant in flowing white and her crew-cut dad in tie and tails. Only twenty-one, he'd just returned from Vietnam. He was tall, tan, and handsome with a confident smile. Sally Maxwell, not yet twenty, was beautiful. There was much of her mother's good looks in Michelle, though growing up she had never focused on that. She had been closer to her father, the classic tomboy who wants to impress big, strong, tough Daddy.

She took the photo from him and placed it back on the nightstand. "Do you need anything?"

"I'm peopled out, Michelle. I can't go back out there."

"Then you don't have to. I'll take care of it. Maybe you should get some sleep."

"Yeah, right," he said dismissively.

"Has your lawyer contacted you?"

He glanced up sharply. "What?"

"You said you had a lawyer. I was just wondering if you'd talked to him yet."

He just shook his head and looked back down.

She waited another minute but he didn't say anything. She finally rose to leave after giving him a hug.

As she reached the door he did say something. It caused her to freeze with her hand on the doorknob.

"You think I killed her, don't you?"

She slowly turned back around. He was holding the wedding photo again, though he wasn't looking at the happy young couple captured for all time there. He was staring straight at her.

"You think I killed her." He held up the photo as though the evidence to support that accusation was all right there.

"I never said that."

"You didn't have to say it," he snapped.

"Dad-"

He cut her off. "Just get the hell out of here. Now!"

She fled the room.

CHAPTER 38

EVERYONE HAD GONE, the food was put away and the tears had been cried. The Maxwell brothers were clustered in the backyard talking quietly over their beers. Frank Maxwell was still in the bedroom.

Sean and Michelle sat in the living room as outside the dusk slowly evolved to night.

"So he accused you of thinking he was a murderer?"

Michelle nodded slowly, obviously still trying to wrap her arms around this notion. "I guess I can't blame him," she said. "And once a cop always a cop. He knows the lay of the land. He'd be a suspect under the usual parameters."

"That's true. When a wife dies violently, it's usually the husband."

"I don't think they loved each other."

Sean put down his can of soda and stared at her. "Why?"

"They never really had anything in common, other than the five kids. Dad was always working. Mom was always at home. When he retired they barely knew each other. Remember when they went on that trip to Hawaii to celebrate their anniversary? They ended up coming back early. I talked to Bill about that later. He said Dad told him they'd run out of things to talk about after one day. And they didn't even have anything they liked to do together. They'd just grown apart."

"They ever consider divorce?"

"I don't know. They never mentioned it to me."

"But you weren't that close to your mother, were you?"

"Closer to my dad, but even that got strained over the years."

"Why?"

"I'm not in the mood to get psychoanalyzed right now."

"Okay, I was just asking a question."

"Who were those people that came in right before Dad shot to the bedroom?"

"You didn't know any of them?" said Sean.

"I don't know any of my parents' friends."

"I made the rounds. Mostly they were friends of your mom's. Played golf, cards, shopped together. Did a little charity thing."

"Nothing out of the ordinary? It seemed like my dad didn't want to even see them."

"Nothing that stuck out. They seemed genuinely sorry about your mom's death."

They turned when they heard the door open. Frank Maxwell was past them and outside before they even rose off the couch.