Betrayed (Rosato & DiNunzio, #2)(23)

“I love you, Aunt Barb. I’m sorry about Iris.”

“Thanks,” her aunt said, without turning her head from the window.

“She sounds like she really was an amazing person, giving everything away.”

“I know, I had no idea. I always wondered what she did with the money she earned, because I know she didn’t have anybody to send money home to.” Aunt Barb sniffled again. “I guess she kept what she needed to live on and gave the rest to the mission. What a wonderful person.”

“I’ll say.”

“Thanks for indulging me, too. I don’t know why I’m running us ragged tonight. I guess it was so I didn’t have to think about the fact that she was…” Aunt Barb’s voice trailed off, and in the sudden silence, the GPS said:

“Prepare to make a left turn in one hundred feet.”

Judy switched into the left lane, ready to make the turn, and it occurred to her that life should come with a GPS, to tell you to prepare for the twists and turns on the way, big ones or little ones, like that a beloved aunt would have cancer, or your boyfriend would forget to drop the dog off to get flea-dipped, or that seventy-five asbestos cases would come from New York to suck the life from your practice. The trip through the growing room at the mushroom farm made the damages cases look like a first-world problem, but problems were problems.

“It doesn’t make sense, but death never makes sense.” Aunt Barb rummaged in her parka pocket and produced her balled-up Kleenex. “In a way, it was just like Steve. Even though I knew he was going to die, I still couldn’t believe it when it happened. Just like her, he was so vital and healthy, he did everything right.”

“I remember.” Judy had loved her uncle, an accountant. A reserved and careful man, he’d taught her chess, not only the game itself but the exotic names of the various openings, like the Sicilian Defense and the Queen’s Gambit, as well as chess notation, which was like some mysterious language that only they spoke, Ne4 Nge7. Judy always got special attention from her uncle and aunt, because she was their only niece and they’d never had children of their own.

“I’m feeling him tonight, too. Maybe that’s why I went crazy, running hither and yon. It’s funny, when you get older, one death kicks up all the other deaths.”

“I bet that’s right.” Judy noted that her aunt hadn’t mentioned the possibility of her own death, though it had to be uppermost in her mind.

Aunt Barb blew her nose. “I guess we can’t really know what Iris was doing today. It seems strange that she didn’t tell me, though. She never lied to me before.”

“She didn’t lie to you exactly, did she? You just assumed she was going to work, but she didn’t go to work.”

“That’s true, but still.”

“Like the clothes and shoes you gave her. You didn’t know she was giving them to the mission, you just assumed she kept them.”

“Yes, that’s true, too.” Aunt Barb nodded. “So what do you think she was doing then, on Brandywine Way?”

“We don’t know enough about her life, to say. Maybe somebody told her they had some stuff for the mission so she went to pick it up before work, that’s possible.” Judy heard herself say it. “The detective will let us know, but I’m thinking that the police probably took her cell phone. That’s how they found the wallet and came to your house.”

“Oh, right.”

“And like the cop said, fingernails break all the time, and because it was a nice day, she decided to drive with the window open. All of that is completely possible.”

“I suppose so, but I want to see what the police come up with, don’t you?”

“Yes.” Judy didn’t mention the autopsy, but she didn’t need to.

“You know the most ironic thing is that Iris was so worried about me with my cancer. She wanted me to go to church with her tomorrow morning, to say a prayer before the mastectomy.”

“That’s very sweet,” Judy said, meaning it. The GPS was about to tell her to turn left, but she turned it off.

“I’m going to go myself and say a prayer for her, and I suppose I should talk to the priest and arrange for her burial.”

“You’re going to the Spanish church?”

“Yes.”

Judy turned left. “I’ll go with you.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I know, but I want to.”

“Thanks.” Her aunt looked over with a smile, her wan face barely illuminated. “And then there’s only one more thing I want to do before Monday morning, for Iris.”

“What’s that?”

“I want to plant a rosebush for her. I have a cutting that came in the mail from the nursery, and we were going to put it in together on Sunday.”

“I’ll help you do that, too,” Judy said, touched. Her aunt was always thoughtful, her actions straight from the heart. Judy would never forget that when it was time to outfit her dorm room at college, she and her mother had gone shopping for all of the practical items: a small refrigerator, a microwave, a mesh hamper, and a pair of flip-flops to prevent athlete’s foot in the showers. But Aunt Barb had taken Judy antiquing, and together they’d found a beautiful old quilt, hand-stitched in a flower-garden pattern, that made the dorm room homey. That very quilt was still at the foot of her bed, to this day.