Rooms(67)

It took the audience several moments to work out that Caroline’s speech was over; it was a strange, abrupt ending, and it wasn’t until Caroline had sat down heavily in the seat next to Minna’s that the tension, the silence of waiting, broke. If this had been a play, the audience would have applauded. But it wasn’t a play, and instead there was just the sound of shuffling and chairs creaking and mints being unwrapped, as Minna’s cousin, Greg, came silently up the aisle and took his place behind the microphone.

“How was I?” Caroline leaned in to whisper to Minna. She reeked of vodka. Not sober, then, not that it mattered. Minna reached out and squeezed her hand. She was worried if she tried to talk, she would cry again.

It was over soon, thank God. Greg spoke, and so did his father, Richard’s sister’s husband, since Richard’s sister had spent half of her adult life feuding with Richard and had even refused to come to the memorial service. Richard’s longtime business partner spoke, and Minna focused on the fact that he looked pretty good, better than she remembered, but before she could wonder whether he was still married and whether it would matter, he was finished talking and the service, at least the formal portion of it, was over. Then she was crowded from all sides. People slipped hands over hers—smooth hands, rough hands, hands as old and thin as parchment, and whispered, “I’m so sorry,” and exhaled the smell of breath mints and alcohol.

She spotted Danny moving toward her, politely but forcefully, pushing through the crowd. He still wasn’t looking at her, though. Before she could call his name—before she could say anything—he had moved past her without even a glance and had stopped in front of her mother.

“Mrs. Walker, is there somewhere we could go and have a talk?” he said, in a voice very different from his usual one. At the same time, Minna realized that the second cop was standing just behind Danny, thumbs hooked into his belt, shifting his weight. He had acne scars and a fat cold sore on his lower lip and looked like a bad actor doing a tough cop routine.

“I told you,” Caroline said. “I go by my maiden name.”

“What’s this about?” Minna stepped next to her mother, forcing Danny to look at her. He did, but only for an instant.

“I’m sorry we have to do this now,” he said. And he did sound sorry. “If there’s somewhere more private . . . ?”

“What’s this about?” Minna repeated, so loudly that several people looked. She lowered her voice. “Danny?”

Danny sucked in a deep breath. “This really isn’t the place.”

“This really isn’t the time,” Minna said, getting angry. “We’re having a memorial service, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

At least the room was emptier now. The crowd was flowing out toward the dining room, to refill on drinks and make inane comments about the circle of life.

“And like I said, I’m very sorry,” Danny said. “But we received a complaint—”

“A complaint?” Minna repeated.

“I didn’t do anything,” Caroline said simultaneously. But she swayed slightly, and Minna had to steady her.

Danny looked at his partner—Minna assumed the guy with the acne scars was his partner—for help. When he didn’t say anything, Danny went on, “A woman named Adrienne Cadiou got in contact with the station. Apparently she’s been having trouble with harassing phone calls. Sometimes thirty in a day. You know anything about that?”

“She’s a liar,” Caroline said quickly. Then, to Minna, “Get me a drink, Minna.”

Minna didn’t move. The name was familiar to her, but it took her a second to place it. Then she did, and she realized. “Mom,” she said and brought her hands to her forehead. There were explosions of pain behind her eyeballs. She thought of the Fourth of July when she and Danny had snuck out of Lauren Lampert’s party to make out on the wooden raft in the middle of Gedney Pond. What had happened? She opened her eyes again and the colors dissipated.

“She’s lying, Minna, I’ve never even spoken to the woman, I—”

“All the calls originated from this number,” Danny said, interrupting her. Caroline went quiet.

Christ. Her mom probably had no idea that people had caller ID. That phone calls could be tracked.

Minna felt like laughing or crying or both. “All right,” she said to Danny. “What now?”

“Well . . . ” Danny turned to his partner again, but then something began beeping and Acne Scars yanked a phone out from his waistband. “It’s Rogers,” he said, and then he turned his back to Minna and Caroline, speaking words too quietly and rapidly for Minna to make out. People were still watching them, whispering, doing a bad job of pretending not to stare. Minna wanted to scream at them to get out, to go get sauced in the dining room like normal guests.

“I’m sorry for all the trouble,” Danny said for the third time, and Minna nearly slapped him. “It looks like she wants to press charges.”

“Charges?” Caroline repeated, as though she’d never heard the word. She clawed at Minna’s arm. “The drink, Minna,” she said urgently.

“You can’t arrest her.” Minna was speaking as forcefully as she could while still whispering. “Are you crazy?”

“I’m not going to cuff her,” Danny said with a short sigh, as if Minna were the one being unreasonable. “After the service is over, maybe you or your brother can drive her into town. We can talk about what’s what when we get there.”