Brazen Virtue

7
    H YACINTHS. GRACE SAT ON the steps in front of her sister’s house and stared at the pink and white hyacinths that had opened, thankful their scent was too light to carry. She’d had enough of the fragrance of flowers that day. The hyacinths looked different, too—sturdy and hopeful beside the cracking concrete. They didn’t remind her of white caskets and weeping.
    She couldn’t sit with her parents any longer. Though she hated herself for it, she had left them huddled together over their endless cups of tea and escaped, needing the air, the sun, the solitude. She had to stop grieving, even if only for an hour.

    Occasionally a car passed, so she watched. A few children in the neighborhood were taking advantage of the warming weather and lengthening days to ride bikes or skateboards over the uneven sidewalk. Their calls to each other were the calls of the summer that was just around the corner. Now and then one would stare over at the house with the round, avid eyes of the curious. The word was out, Grace thought, and cautious parents had warned their sons and daughters to stay clear. If the house remained empty long, those kids would be daring each other to go as far as the porch to touch the forbidden. The very brave might race to the windows and peek in.
    The haunted house. The Murder House. And the children’s palms would sweat, their hearts thunder as they ran away again to report their derring-do to their less courageous friends. She’d have done exactly the same as a child.
    Murder was so fascinating, so irresistible.
    Already, Grace knew, Kathleen’s murder would have been discussed in the quiet little houses up and down the street. New locks would have been bought and installed. Windows and doors would be checked with extra care. Then a few weeks would pass, and with the buffer of time, people would forget. After all, it hadn’t happened to them.
    But she wouldn’t forget. Grace rubbed her fingers under her eyes. She couldn’t forget.
    When she recognized Ed’s car pulling up, she drew a deep breath. She hadn’t realized she’d been waiting for him but had no trouble admitting it now. She rose and cut across the grass, arriving at his car just as he stepped out.
    “You put in long hours, Detective.”
    “Goes with the territory.” He jingled his keys before he popped the trunk. All that was left of her makeup were a few swipes of mascara. “You all right?”
    “So far.” She glanced back toward the house. Her mother had just switched on the kitchen light. “I’m taking my parents to the airport in the morning. It doesn’t help them or me for them to stay here, so I convinced them to go. They’re propping each other up.” She ran her hands along the hips of her slacks, then finding nothing better to do with them, stuck them in her pockets. “You know, I never realized how married they were, how really married, until the last couple of days.”
    “At times like this it helps to have someone.”

    “I think they’re going to be all right. They’ve … they’ve accepted it.”
    “What about you?”
    Grace glanced up at him, then away again. The answer was in her eyes. Acceptance was still a long way off. “They’re going home for a few days, then flying out to the coast to see Kevin, my sister’s son.”
    “You going with them?”
    “No. I thought about it, but—not now. I don’t know, the funeral seemed to steady them.”
    “And you?”
    “I hated it. The first thing I’m going to do when I get back to New York is check into cremations.” She pulled both hands through her hair. “Christ, that sounds sick.”
    “No, it doesn’t. Funerals force you to face the fact of dying. That’s their purpose, isn’t it?”
    “I’ve been trying to figure out the purpose all day. I think I prefer the way the Vikings did it. Out to sea in a burning boat. Now that’s a send-off. I don’t like thinking of her in a box.” Catching herself, she turned back to him. It was better, far better, to think of the children playing across the street and the flowers just opening. “Sorry. I came out here to stop dwelling on it. I told my parents I was going for a walk. I didn’t get very far.”
    “You want to walk?”
    Grace shook her head and touched his arm. Decent. She’d been on the mark when she’d tagged that one-word description to him. “You are a nice man. I want to apologize for dumping on you the other night.”
    “It’s okay. You had a point.” A mother called