The Accomplice(90)

When Owen turned around, his mother was standing there. He startled. He felt his heart thumping. Why was he so jumpy?

“Mom,” he said. “Dad’s—”

“I know,” Vera said. “He died last night. Doesn’t he seem at peace?”

Owen wasn’t expecting his mother to be so tranquil. It wasn’t really her style. Owen stared, slack-jawed, and said, “What?”

Vera turned Owen around, so he was facing Tom. “See? He’s no longer in pain.”

“Okay,” Owen said.

“Do you want some time alone with him?”

“Why?” Owen said, his voice cracking in panic.

“To say goodbye,” said Vera.

“No. I’m good,” Owen said, rushing out of the room.

Later, when his mother was meeting with an undertaker, Owen found the key to the lockbox and opened it. He found another prescription of Oxy. Only a few pills were left. He snapped a photo of the almost-empty bottle and another of the bottle on his dad’s nightstand. Owen knew his mother was getting weekly refills. Doctors aren’t stingy with pain meds in terminal cases. Owen suspected that Vera was keeping a few for herself. But it didn’t track, when he thought about it. His mom had been unusually lucid. She wasn’t even drinking that much. Owen could always tell when Vera was altered. He logged on to her computer—Vera used the same password for everything—and checked the prescription-order history. He cross-checked the orders against the spreadsheet they used to keep track of his father’s meds. There was a surplus, which Owen couldn’t find anywhere in the house. If you asked Owen to explain how he came to the conclusion that his mother had hastened his father’s death, he couldn’t tell you. He just knew.

Vera made the call to her older son, and Griff drove back to Boston late that night. Owen had just assumed he would bring Luna with him. When Griff walked in the front door, Owen hugged his brother then stepped outside, anticipating her arrival. The street was empty. Owen reentered the house.

“Where’s Luna?” Owen asked.

“She had an appointment or something,” Griff said. “She’ll come out for the funeral.”



* * *



—

Owen would remember the sound of the phone ringing more than anything. It wouldn’t stop. Sometimes it felt like Luna was the only person who wasn’t calling that house. Vera always answered the phone. Owen could hear all her conversations. His mom wouldn’t shut up about how peaceful Tom looked. Owen was thinking, You know who looks peaceful right now? You, Mom.

At breakfast, he asked his mother if there would be an autopsy.

“Why on earth would they do that?” Vera asked.

“I don’t know,” Owen said.

“He had cancer,” Vera said. Firmly.

The phone rang. Vera retrieved it and disappeared into the living room to take the call.

“The doctor said he had six months,” Owen said to his brother.

“Dude, you don’t get a countdown clock with a prognosis,” Griff snapped.

“Fuck off, Griff. I’m just asking a question. Remember, I’m the one stuck here.”

“Sorry,” Griff said, genuinely contrite. He knew the summer had to have been hard on Owen. “I haven’t slept more than four hours a night in…months?”

“You do look like shit,” Owen said as a way of accepting the apology.



* * *



—

The funeral arrangements were set for Monday, just two days after Tom died. Noting the speediness of the arrangements, Casey asked Luna if the Manns were secret Jews.

Luna rented a car and drove on her own to Boston, made it just in time for the church service. She didn’t even see Owen or Griff until after the service was over. Along with Casey and Mason, Luna returned to the Mann house, where Vera was hosting a small gathering with deli plates and, more important, an abundance of alcohol. The younger crowd hid out in Griff’s childhood bedroom. Luna kept checking the clock. She couldn’t drink, because she had to drive home and have a procedure the next morning. She was trying to figure out the earliest socially acceptable exit.

Luna was being distant, a bit odd. Both brothers noticed. Owen’s generous opinion was that family gatherings were challenging for Luna. That she’d learned it was safer to be alone. She didn’t know how to behave in a normal family. When Luna was late for the service, Griff wondered if she was sending him a subconscious message that she wanted to break up. He wondered if she was waiting for a socially acceptable time to do so. But then later, when the group was hanging out in his room, she held his hand and asked how he was doing, and everything seemed as normal as it could be. He relaxed briefly. Griff told himself that he was being paranoid.

An hour later, Luna said she had to go. It was late. Griff didn’t realize she was driving back that night. He was so stunned that she was leaving, he just nodded and said, “Okay.”

“Walk her to her car,” Mason said.

Mason was drunk by then, but he had a few stubborn life rules. Walking a woman to her car or her home when it was dark out, even if that woman could probably manage self-defense better than he could, was one of them. He was a chivalrous feminist, Casey would tell people. It was one of his best qualities, she thought.