Page 52 of A Rose of Steel
No one said a word to her, tried to remove her from the post she’d taken, said a peep against her, or asked her to call down her Belles. That’s how much respect Suzanne Babet Derbinay commanded, even when her actions were dead wrong.
I sat in the back of the church at Auntie’s suggestion, I agreed it had the best vantage point. I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to be looking for, but I wanted to do a better job than I had at the wedding.
The first thing I noticed was the same organist that had been at the wedding. She had on the same white dress and white fascinator with a birdcage veil which covered her eyes. Her cane leaning against the side of her instrument, she had the same plastered smile and still looking as if she was going to keel over at any minute. Then I saw my cousin, Pogue.
Dressed in his sheriff’s uniform, starched and pressed, he stood in the back near the door. He seemed to scrutinize every person who walked past him. He saw me and our eyes locked. No smile for me, I guess that meant he was all business today.
He gave me a curt nod and then headed my way.
“Oh shoot,” I mumbled, my heart skipping a beat. I didn’t want to talk to him, I was doing exactly what he’d asked me not to do—trying to solve the murder. What if he was there because he was on the same page as Auntie—he thought killers come to the funeral? It would make him more attentive and he’d noticed me talking, well interviewing, possible suspects.
“Hi Romie,” he said.
“Hey Pogue,” I said, trying to sound chipper, hoping he wouldn’t notice the nervousness in my voice.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
He would ask me that...
“Uhm... You know.” I hunched my shoulders. “Paying my respects.”
He squinted his eyes at me. “You didn’t know him or his family.”
“I did know Mrs. Hackett. Sort of.”
“Right.”
“She used to be in one of Auntie’s clubs. Plus, I came with Auntie. She’s feeling bad about everything happening at her place.”
“You’re not poking your nose in, are you?”
“Me?” I said and swallowed hard. I didn’t want to lie to my cousin and I had promised myself and made Auntie aware that anything significant I found out, I would share with Pogue. But I didn’t know anything yet, so need of upsetting him.
“Yes you. And Babet. I know how she can talk people into doing things.”
“I told you, she can’t talk me into doing anything I don’t want to do.”
Which was true, only thing was investigating the murder was something I did want to do.
“Okay,” he said. “Just remember, please, to let me handle this.”
“Handle away,” I said and let out a slight chuckle.
“Why are you here?” I asked.
“I heard that the killer often comes to the funeral.”
“You think he, or she, is here now?” I said. I swung around to take a gander at the crowd.
“I would I know,” he said and let out a huff. “It’s a silly idea. What difference does it make if the killer does come when I have no idea who the killer is?” He shook his head. “It was a ridiculous idea.”
“I guess that makes sense,” I said, even though it was the reason I was there.
“I’m the law. I can have any of these people come down to the station and speak to me. I’ve been standing here watching people as they stream in, and for what? Is the killer just going to stand up and announce his deed?” He laughed out loud. “I’m leaving.” He touched my arm. “See you later.”
“See you,” I said.
Perhaps Pogue was right. How do you pick out a murderer in a room full of people? I turned and faced the room. I let my eyes scan the faces. Did any of them look like a killer?
