“What—” Dana began.
Marne kept her hands in place, on her hips. “Did you bring the police here, like you sent them to my house?” She said “he-ah” for “here,” as I used to, before I lost my Boston accent, and she stretched out “police” until it was a long hiss. I glanced back at Matt, experiencing a fleeting moment of worry that she’d see through his civilian clothes and recognize him as the pohleesss.
“I didn’t send—” Dana sputtered. She put her hand on her heart, ready to utter an oath.
“Not what I heard. They about tore my house apart. Rachel was there. And her friend, for a sleepover. How could you do that?”
Before Dana could answer, if, indeed, she had a response, a large black man in a dark suit stepped in and gently took Marne’s arms from their stiff akimbo position. Another black man handed her an opened bottle of water. I had the useless thought that Rose would have had a crystal glass at the ready.
“Trouble, Mrs. Hall?” the first man asked, guiding her back to her seat. He turned his head toward Dana, his thick neck suggesting considerable muscle mass at his disposal.
Marne relaxed her posture but still glared at Dana. “No trouble. This lady and her friends are leaving.”
Matt and Elaine and I filed around to the side aisle, dismissed, not stopping to speak to Marne or other family members in the front row. I saw that most of the guests had become aware of the drama. They strained their necks, shook their heads, and whispered. I had a rare feeling of alienation from my surroundings.
Wounded and weary, help me I pray, the music continued.
I couldn’t imagine what Dana must be going through.
I glanced back at Tanisha. She seemed at peace, unlike the rest of us.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Dana felt confused and dizzy. Her eyes stung and her stomach hurt. She’d had nothing to eat all day except some crumbs of biscotti to please Elaine, and they weren’t sitting well. And now Gloria was hovering over her as she leaned back on the couch in Hutton’s lobby. Elaine was off in the corner, on her cell, probably trying to reach Dad. At least Hutton’s goons hadn’t forced them outside the building.
What had gotten into Marne? Dana had barely heard the words. Something about sending the police to Marne and Tanisha’s home. She wanted to go back into the parlor and take Marne aside, find out what was going on.
A dozen questions about her current state were being pummeled at her.
Do you need some air?
Are you dizzy?
Do you feel nauseous?
“I’m okay,” she said to no one in particular, hoping to cover all the questions.
Dana took a deep breath and a sip of the water Matt had miraculously produced. It seemed years since she’d signed the guest book, years since she’d looked at Tanisha in the casket.
She’d nearly fainted on the kneeler, even before Marne lashed out at her. Seeing Tanisha like that, so beautiful. But so dead. Dana had always admired how Tanisha could pull off the head-turning, flamboyant look. Next to Tanisha, Dana felt boring, with her middling-brown hair, only occasionally brought to life when she bothered to add a little red; her drab wardrobe; her uninspired accessories. But Tanisha had a way about her. She’d sashay into a room, wearing wild jungle-print tights or bright red shoes with enormous platform heels, full of confidence and optimism.
Dana’s head hurt, but she tried to focus on what might have upset Marne. Somehow she must have found out about the mix-up on the report and thought Dana really accused Tanisha of being a druggie. But Dana couldn’t believe the cops would bother unless they thought Tanisha was a dealer. And there was no way they could twist Dana’s words into that.
“What happened in there?” Dana heard.
A familiar voice. Her boss. Julia Strega had joined Elaine, Gloria, and Matt. Tom Stewart was right behind her. Tom and Julia must have already been in the parlor when Dana arrived.
“We wondered if you’d even show up, after … you know,” Tom said.
“No, I don’t know,” Dana said, alert now. Leave it to Tom to get her juices going, queasy or not.
“We heard the story on the local news this morning, plus all the gossip.”
Dana hated Tom’s stupid grin and bobbing Adam’s apple and the way he always acted as though he had some secret you were dying to know. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of asking what the story was. Luckily, Julia was aware of the ongoing tension between Dana and Tom and paired them only when she had no other choice.
“Could you get me some more water?” Dana asked Matt.
Tom screwed up his mouth, defeated.
“Sure,” Matt said. His look was understanding, but Dana knew he wondered why she had let herself get drawn into this infantile game.