Death on a Deadline

for-your-own-good talk twice.
    “Why do I get the feeling you didn’t listen to her either?”
    I slid into the driver’s seat and chose not to answer. As I turned the key, a black car rounded the corner. “Talk about the consummate politician. I never dreamed he would show up here.” I nodded toward the Mercedes that was the trademark of Lake View Mayor Byron Stanton.
    I should have known, though. The mayor was bound to be happy that Hank’s scathing editorials were a thing of the past, but he’d squeeze out a few tears for the public’s benefit, his classically handsome face twisted into a mournful expression.
    Mama nodded. “Looks like he even coaxed Amelia into coming with him. She and Marge haven’t spoken in years,” she said. “I wonder if they will today?”
    I braked. “Want to go back and watch?” I nearly laughed aloud at the look of distaste on her face. “Mama, I’m kidding!”
    “I know you are. It’s just always bothered me that two sisters who were as close as Marge and Amelia used to be could let their husbands pull them apart. Marge needs her sister’s support at a time like this. Maybe they can mend fences.”
    “Maybe so.” I thought of the last few editorials Hank had written. “But, you know how when somebody dies, there’s a tendency to canonize them. Marge may take up the torch and continue the ‘Lord Byron’ editorials.”
    “Let’s hope not. I agree Byron is egotistical, but Hank ran that into the ground. I’m sure our mayor was sick to death of it.”
    I glanced quickly at Mama. “Sick to death, huh? Interesting choice of words.”

    *****

    The solemn music drifted into the foyer as Carly and I entered the church building. Carly kept her gaze fixed on the faded gold and maroon carpet and stepped back for me to take the lead. She’d tried to beg off, claiming that people would think it was poor taste for her to attend the memorial service on account of her son being a suspect, but I wasn’t about to come by myself. And I wasn’t about to miss it.
    “Why did I let you talk me into this?” Carly muttered into my shoulder blades.
    I knew the answer to that one but kept my mouth shut. She owed me big-time after the Pampered Chef party I’d endured for her a couple of weeks ago.
    I signed our names in the guest book and we walked to the back row, where three aisle seats were empty.
    Carly slid into the inside seat with a low growl. “Honestly, I think I should just go home.”
    “Relax, it’ll be fine.”
    “Sure it will be. But staying at home with a good book would have been much finer,” Carly snapped.
    I lowered my voice to a soft whisper. “You know, they say the best place to find a murderer is at the victim’s funeral.”
    “But we’re not interested in finding a murderer.” Her voice rose on the last word.
    “Shh. Yes we are.” I turned back toward the front. “Look.”
    “What?” She followed my gaze and spotted Brendan offering his condolences to Marge. “Brendan? What’s he doing here?”
    “I have no idea.” He hugged Marge, then leaned down to embrace Lois, who was sitting next to her bereaved friend.
    “Maybe he’s a friend of the family.”
    “Are you ever going to go out with him again?”
    “Someday,” I said, without looking up from the program the funeral director had handed me as we entered, “when there’s not so much going on.”
    “Yeah.” Carly sighed. “Surely Zac will be cleared soon. The idea of him murdering someone is ridiculous. And the idea of us attending the victim’s funeral is even more ridiculous.”
    I stuck the program into Carly’s black satchel bag. “If we find the killer, Zac’ll be cleared.”
    “Jenna, we are not—”
    “I know we’re not officially investigating, but if we pick up a little clue here or there that would exonerate Zac, what can it hurt?”
    “That’s it. I’m leaving.” Carly started to rise, but I put my hand on her arm.
    “Wait. Look.”
    A short, trim man in a dark suit and a red and yellow floral tie walked past us. The well-preserved blond on his arm was decked out in designer black down to her stiletto heels.
    “Yeah. Byron and Amelia. So what?” Carly pulled her arm away from me. “They are Hank’s sister-in-law and brother-in-law. It seems natural to me they would be here.”
“Does his million-dollar smile look strained to you? A little stiff? Hers, too, for that matter?”
    “Why, yes. Now that you mention it, I wouldn’t give you but a