“Adrianna Blanc’s memorial service is at eleven. I’ll try to be home by two.”

“Don’t rush, Peter. We’ll wait for you.” She slipped on her shoes. “Poor parents. What a brutal crime. What was she? Like Cindy’s age?”

“A little older than Sammy. There’s no good age for murder, but it really hurts when they’re that young. Only thing sadder is children.” He was quiet, then shook it off. “What’s for dessert tonight?”

“If we were sticking to tradition, I would have baked you a cake. Instead, I baked pies.”

“Good call. I love pies.”

“Hence my decision. You have your choice of peach, strawberry, and cherry with or without pareve vanilla ice cream and/or pareve whipped cream.”

“I have to choose between pies?”

“You may have all three,” Rina told him. “It’s the prerogative of the birthday boy.”

“In that case, I will take all three. I’ll probably stuff my face and get sick. You should have just made a salad.”

Rina laughed. “My family is together for the first time in ages, and I should make a salad?”

“I have no self-control when it comes to your food.”

“If you open the medicine cabinet, you’ll note that it’s fully stocked with Prevacid, Pepto-Bismol, and Tums. You know my slogan: eat, drink, and take antacids.”

THE CHURCH SERVICE lasted forty-five minutes, and at the end, the minister invited anyone who wanted to speak to do so. There were about a hundred people at the gathering, none of them anxious to get up onstage. Finally, Sela Graydon braved the microphone, sobbing her way through a heart-wrenching eulogy of her two best friends. She had aged, with sunken eyes and a pasty complexion. Sela was followed by a woman named Alicia Martin, who introduced herself as Kathy’s best friend. Then another friend took the microphone, followed by another friend, and then another. By the time the service concluded, it was a few minutes past one.

Decker didn’t want to intrude on the grieving parents, but it had seemed important to Kathy that he make an appearance. He waited patiently behind a line to offer words of solace and condolences. Kathy, as usual, was dressed in style—a knitted black dress with a gold belt, black pumps, and tortoiseshell sunglasses. She saw Decker hovering in the back and waved him forward. Although he could see her clearly—he stood above most of the mourners—it wasn’t easy for a big man to weave through the mass of human flesh. When he finally made it up to the front, Kathy took his extended hand with both of hers.

“Thank you for coming.” Kathy’s eyes moistened. “The burial is just for family. I hope you understand.”

“I do. You need your privacy to say good-bye.”