The priest was saying something about Doug Linken, but it was hard to hear him over the rain falling on the tarp. He made the sign of the cross and looked to Monica. The funeral director gave Monica a red rose, and Monica threw it at the casket.
“Done,” Monica said, standing. “Let’s eat. I ordered vodka rigatoni from Marsilio’s for the wake.”
•••
The wake was held at the firehouse in the room usually reserved for Tuesday bingo. There was a full serve-yourself bar, two tables of donated food in disposable containers, and enough vodka rig to feed two hundred people. I stayed close to Monica, Ranger watched from twenty paces, and Morelli hung in a corner and never took his eyes off me. He was in jeans, a blue buttoned-down shirt, a red and blue striped tie, and a navy blazer. It was the middle of the day, but he had a five o’clock shadow that looked good on him. The hem on his jeans had wicked up water. Aside from the jeans he seemed untouched by the rain.
I wasn’t doing as well as Morelli. My hair had frizzed up into a giant afro-type ponytail. My suit was damp and my shoes squished water.
“This is a real bust,” Grandma said, sidling up to me. “I like when the wake is in a house and you get to see people’s furniture and the kind of toilet paper they buy. This was hardly worth crashing.”
“Did you get anything to eat?”
“I had some vodka rig and Mabel Worchek’s meatball casserole. I’m thinking about going back for a piece of cake. There are some good-looking cakes there.”
“I’ve been thinking I might bake a cake.”
“Get out.”
“I found a recipe, and I bought a couple cake pans.”
“What brought this on?”
“It just came over me,” I said.
“You aren’t pregnant, are you?”
“No!”
“Well, just holler if you need help. And people are asking about that bruise you’ve got. It’s a pip. What am I supposed to tell people?”
“Tell them I got it in a bar fight.”
“Can I say you got hit by a drag queen?”
“Sure.”
“It would make a more interesting story,” Grandma said.
Monica was standing behind me and I heard her give a snort of laughter. “I’d take a day off from work to see you get punched out by anyone.”
“I thought you didn’t have a job,” I said to Monica.
“Yeah, but if I did.”
I looked around the room for possible suspects. In the movies the criminal always returns to the scene of the crime, always shows up at the funeral. Most of the people who showed up for this wake were same old same old. Professional wake attendees. The couple people I recognized from Kiltman had only been present at graveside. Obviously the politically correct gesture didn’t extend to the wake. Obviously they didn’t know about the vodka rig.
“I’m soggy,” Monica said. “I want to go home. Grab one of those trays of vodka rig and meet me outside.”
“Copy,” Ranger said into my earbud.
I found a tray that was mostly untouched, covered it with aluminum foil, turned to leave, and bumped into Morelli.
“You could get into big trouble taking that vodka rig,” Morelli said. “That’s official wake property.”
“I’ll chance it.”
He gently traced his fingertip across my bruise. “I hate to see this.”
“You realize you’re risking that punch in the face.”
“Yeah. Go ahead take your best shot. I deserve it.”
“You’re only saying that because I have my hands filled with casserole.”
“True. Are you planning on having this for dinner?”
“Monica asked me to grab it for her.”
“Anything strike you as odd today?” Morelli asked.
“Other than the fact that the widow is showing no remorse?”
“You’d think she could at least pretend, right?”
“I think she’s in a transitional place,” I said. “Moving on with her life.”
“That’s charitable.”
“And she drinks a lot.”
“That’s real. I was looking for more than that. There was a weird-looking guy at graveside. He wasn’t part of the usual funeral crowd.”
“The guy wearing pajamas?”
“Yes.”
“That’s Stanley Pooka. He’s a biology professor at Kiltman. Doug Linken was a Kiltman alum. Active in fundraising and stuff. Dean Mintner was also at graveside.”
Ranger’s voice came into my earbud. “Kiss him goodbye and get out here with the food.”
“Gotta go,” I said to Morelli.
Monica was waiting in the SUV when I brought the vodka rig to her.