“You got it,” Holbrook said, with a helpless look.
“There’s nothing Americans love more than a comeback story,” Jude said on his way out the door. “If I were you, I’d start the wheels in motion.”
“Thanks.” Holbrook shook Jude’s hand and ushered him out of the conference room.
“Thank you for your help with the Francesca Adams case, Vince!” Jude said with a grin. He knew the other employees would talk about why Holbrook had been sequestered with members of the Salem Police Department. With one sentence, Jude made sure they all knew what happened in the back room.
With Holbrook crossed firmly off the suspect list, Jude turned his attention back to the two remaining suspects, Oliver Adams and Ambrose Watson. He had a feeling Oliver would show his true colors at Frankie’s funeral, which left Jude with Watson. Holbrook mentioning his views that the city councilman had stolen the money was in line with Jude’s thoughts as well.
The first thing he was going to do when they all got back to the office was to put in a request for the grand larceny case to be reopened. He had thirty-six hours to gather as much information on the councilman as possible.
Make no mistake, Jude was coming for Watson.
12
Cope
Our Lady of the Sea was full to bursting. Cope and the others had gotten to the church early, knowing there would be a lot of people who’d want to be in attendance for Frankie’s funeral, not all of them with the purest intentions. There were people who wanted to see the drama of grief, others who hoped a fight would break out. Cope also knew there was a very real possibility that Frankie’s killer would be in the building.
Fitzgibbon had gathered the detectives, along with Cope and Tennyson the night before to put together a game plan. He’d asked the psychics to gather as much information as they could, while the detectives kept an eye on Oliver Adams, Frankie’s parents, and the people who interacted with them.
Cope, for his part, wasn’t a fan of using his gift in loud, crowded places. Malls, airports, department stores, and churches were hell for him. It felt like being in an appliance store with all the televisions and radios turned up to full blast. Sometimes it was hard to differentiate who was thinking what. Thankfully, the good thing about the funeral, from a psychic standpoint, would be that once the service started, the noise would pipe down and he’d be better able to concentrate.
“God, I hate wearing this fucking tie!” Jude tugged at the knot and squirmed on the hard, wooden pew.
Cope pushed down from his husband, leaving several feet between them.
“What the hell are you doing?” Jude asked, sounding even more annoyed than he had seconds ago.
“I don’t want to get hit by second hand lightning.”
Jude raised an eyebrow. “Why do you think I’m going to get hit by lightning?”
“You took the name of the Lord in vain and you said ‘fuck’ in church.” Cope groaned when he realized he’d done the same thing.
“Um, isn’t that the pot calling the kettle black?” Jude raised a questioning eyebrow.
Cope slid back down the pew. “Have you noticed anything out of the ordinary?” They were sitting in the fifth row to the left of the casket. Oliver and Frankie’s family would be seated in front of them when the service got underway. Ronan and Ten were further back on the right side and Cope hadn’t seen Fitz since they’d gotten out of the SUV.
“You mean aside from the fact that Frankie’s parents won’t even look at Oliver?”
“They think he killed their daughter. Thankfully, both of them are easy to read. Grief does that. All you can think about is your loss and with that, your guard goes down.”
“What about Oliver, ishisguard down?” Jude looked as if he already knew the answer to that question.
Cope closed his eyes and attempted to zero in on Oliver. Cope shivered. “He’s not grieving, Jude. This is the last place he wants to be and he’s sick and tired of people offering condolences. He just wants to go home, call out for pizza, and hang out with-” Cope gasped. What he was seeing was unexpected.
“Angie Melton, Frankie’s best friend.” Jude said.
Cope’s eyes popped open. “How did you know that?”
“They’re standing together beside the coffin.” Jude angled his chin toward Oliver. “She’s rubbing his back.”
“Why?” Cope asked, feeling as thunderstruck as he sounded. “Oliver is the top suspect in her best friend’s murder. Why would she be with him instead of Frankie’s parents?” Thankfully, Cope hadn’t ever been in a situation like this, but he liked to think that if he was, he would be on the side of the parents,notthe potential killer. “I wouldn’t touch him if he were the last man on earth.” Cope knew Oliver was innocent until proven guilty in the eyes of the law. In his eyes, Oliver was guilty until proven innocent, and the way he was leaning close to Angie kept Cope’s needle firmly on guilty.
“Murder makes strange bedfellows,” Jude said. He looked as if he had something more to say, but paused when his phone buzzed. “It’s Ronan. ‘WTF is up with Oliver and Angie?’ I guess we’re not the only ones who noticed what’s going on.”
Cope sighed. This was going to be a long day and the funeral hadn’t even started yet. “I’m sure they’re just banding together for Frankie’s sake.”
