Page 51 of Memory of Murder
“I’m glad I’ve been able to help.”
She suddenly felt a little embarrassed. “I’m sorry. I know you’ve only been doing your job, but it has felt like more to me.” Might as well get that out there on the table. Particularly after last night.
His smile warmed her chest. “If I may be totally honest, this hasn’t felt like work since I read Mary’s journal. We’re basically strangers, but I hope we can change that going forward.”
After last night, she had been having that same thought—the same hope. It was such a relief to hear that she wasn’t alone in those feelings. “I would like that very much.”
“I’m so sorry to keep you waiting.” Judith appeared at their table. She grabbed a nearby chair no one was using and settled in. “I’m hearing all sorts of gossip about what you two have been up to.” She looked from Anne to Jack and then to their half-finished food. “I hope our amazing chef hasn’t disappointed you.”
“The food is great.” Anne reached for her cocktail. Same one as she made at home—lemonade with strawberries and vodka. “And so is the cocktail.”
“Both are excellent,” Jack agreed. “But… I would be interested in the gossip you’re hearing.”
Judith waved off the comment. “Nothing fascinating, really.” She smiled. “Other than how riled up the whole tribe is.”
Anne savored the lemony vodka as she sat her glass down. “Carin and Eve aren’t too happy with us. The senator either, I suspect.”
“I’m sure you heard,” Jack interjected, “about the Water’s Edge Hotel—those were our rooms. An odd sort of coincidence, wouldn’t you say?”
“Indeed,” Judith agreed. “I was so glad to hear the two of you were out when that happened. Sounds exactly like one of those scare tactics they use in the movies. Hard to believe it happened right here in our little town.”
“Not really,” Anne argued. “It’s all tied to the murder of Neil Reed. I think we both know the wrong person went to prison for that heinous crime.”
The older woman’s eyebrows reared up her forehead. “Some would agree with you. Others probably not.”
Anne patted her lips with her linen napkin and decided to cut to the chase. “Why did you arrange for her body to be cremated?”
Judith stared back at Anne with the same firm look in her eyes. “Who else was going to do it? Would you have preferred the state did away with her? You know, they donate unclaimed bodies for research. Is that what you would have preferred?”
Anne flinched. Until a few days ago she would have preferred exactly that. To have one’s body donated for medical research was a good thing. But now she wasn’t sure she could say that about Mary’s body. The woman had been her mother…and she had suffered more than her share of neglect and abandonment in her life.
“No,” Anne admitted. “Thank you for taking care of her.”
Judith blinked once, twice, three times as if having difficulty holding back the emotion shining in her eyes. “It was the least I could do.”
“And thank you for seeing that some of her ashes were buried next to his headstone. I’m sure she would have appreciated that.”
“It felt like the right thing to do.”
“I do have one question though.” Anne understood that whatever moment they’d just shared would be shattered by this single query.
Judith lifted her chin as if bracing for the unexpected. “What is that?”
“Why didn’t you or any of her other friends see that I was placed in a good home? I know what you said before, but I want the truth this time.”
It was a simple question, really. Mary had so-called friends. Neil had a father. And yet no one bothered to do a single thing for the child born to the two.
Anne had stopped resenting the friends and family who should have stepped in. What was done was done. But how had they lived with themselves? This was the part she would never understand.
Judith stared at the table for a moment, unable to meet Anne’s eyes. “It was a difficult time for many. Neil was dead, and his father suddenly lost his wife. The man was beside himself with grief. I think he saw you—” she finally met Anne’s gaze “—as an extension of your mother and, therefore, unworthy of his attention or support. It was wrong, obviously. But you can’t tell a man anything when he’s that wounded. I’m sure at some point he realized his mistake, but it was too late by then.”
“And what about you? Carin? Eve? All of you claimed to be Mary’s friends until near the end.”
“I can’t speak for Carin or for Eve,” Judith admitted. “But I will say that something happened between those three. I have no idea what it was, but things changed. Your mother was suddenly on the outside. I tried to talk to her to find out what was goingon, but she wouldn’t talk to me. She avoided me and everyone else.”
Anne stared at her, waiting for the rest.
The older woman closed her eyes and drew in a heavy breath. When she opened her eyes once more they were liquid with emotion. “Jerry had found someone new and younger. A woman already pregnant with his child—something I could never give him. I was in a bad place. A place I couldn’t find my way back from for a very long time. By the time I realized I should have helped you, you were in the system, and no one was giving me any information. I wasn’t family and my efforts were futile. I even went to Preston, your grandfather, and asked for his help, but he was still in that awful place where he hated everyone—especially you simply because you were alive and his son wasn’t.”
