“Seriously?” Jude asked, his thumbs flying over his phone’s keyboard. “They’re boning each other,” he said quietly, obviously not wanting anyone else to hear him. “Ten agrees.”
“Does he agree because he can see it or because them being together like this looks bad?” Cope thought it looked more than just bad. It was rude and inconsiderate.
“A little bit of both, according to Ronan. He also said he hasn’t seen anything else suspicious.” Jude wore a disappointed look.
“Where is Fitz?” Cope asked, turning to look behind him. According to his father, Buford, you weren’t supposed to turnaround in church, but he supposed it didn’t matter much now that his father wasn’t there to box his ears.
“He’s outside with the mourners still filing into the church. Service is supposed to start in five minutes. Knowing Fitz, he’ll stay at the back of the church in case there’s trouble or someone tries to make a break for it. There are several undercovers from the SPD in the crowd. I’ve already seen three of them.” Jude’s attention was still firmly focused on Oliver. “Oh, shit, here we go!”
Cope looked up in time to see Oliver step up to the coffin and drape himself over it. Cope could hear wailing.
“What the hell are you doing?” An angry sounding Dante Conti shouted. He stalked toward Frankie’s coffin, his hands fisted at his side. “It’s your fault Frankie is lying in this box. Get away from her now.”
Oliver continued to wail. Cope focused his attention on the man, needing to know if his wailing was authentic or an Oscar-worthy performance. Shutting his eyes, Cope reached out to Oliver and was flooded with emotions. “It’s fake,” he muttered. “Gonna look good on the news. Pointing cops away from him. He knows you’re all here.” What he saw next was most definitely going to get Oliver punched in the face. In his mind’s eye, he saw Angie riding Oliver, screaming through her climax. He'd hate to be their neighbor in the summer with the windows open. The scene flashed again. More sex, this time in a car in the pouring rain, with a woman who wasn’t FrankieorAngie.
Trying to delve deeper into Oliver’s mind, Cope was interrupted by shouts and a scream. His eyes opened just in time to see Frankie’s father take a swing at Oliver, whose face was already red, presumably from crying, but Cope knew better. Oliver had done this to himself, most probably from holding his breathbetween wails. The smack of Dante’s fist into Oliver’s face echoed throughout the church.
Oliver stumbled backward into Angie’s arms. When he regained his footing, he looked like he was going to charge at Dante, but several uniformed members of the SPD swooped in to pull the two men apart.
“Sweet Jesus,” Jude muttered. “There’s something you don’t see every day, people punching each other at a funeral.”
“Oliver deserved it.” Cope said quietly.
“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” Jude asked.
Cope shook his head. “I don’t know for certain if Oliver killed Frankie, but he was cheating on her left, right, and sideways. I just saw the highlight reel of his sex life.” Cope shivered. “I need a hot shower with a bucket of soap.”
“Looks like both men are being allowed to stay.” Jude pointed toward the front of the church where the Conti’s were being led back to their seats to the right of the casket, while Oliver was being ushered to the left side seats that were usually reserved for people who would be doing readings or giving the eulogy.
Jude’s phone buzzed again. “Ronan is asking if Fitz wants to pick Oliver up after the mass is over.”
“He doesn’t,” Cope said. Kevin Fitzgibbon was the easiest person Cope had ever read. He leaked information like a sieve. He wished Oliver Adams was as easy to delve into as the captain.
“You’re right,” Jude agreed, his eyes glued to his phone screen. “Fitz wants us to see Ambrose first. Then Angie. He likes the idea of Oliver having to sweat it out.”
Cope knew from experience that people were more likely to spill their guts when they were stressed and anxious. Oliver was filled with both, alongside a healthy dose of fear. “I’m looking forward to speaking with Angie. I can’t get much of a read on her right now. She’s pissed at Frankie’s parents and Oliver. She keeps going back and forth between them.”
“That makes no sense,” Jude said. “According to what Dante Conti told us, Frankie and Angela had been friends since middle school. You’d think she’d be on their side in this.”
“It feels more like she’s angry that Oliver made such a bold plea for pity and that Dante rose to the bait.” Cope didn’t understand Angie’s place in this drama at all. She’d had a long chat with the Conti’s earlier in the morning that ended with hugs all around. Now, she was trying to soothe and console Oliver. Cope had been out of his mind with grief when his mother, Elizabeth, died, but he hadn’t gone as far as to fling himself on her coffin.
People grieved differently and sometimes, not at all. He supposed that after a time, Oliver had come to grips with the fact that Frankie was gone and wasn’t coming back. It must have been a huge shock to his system when her remains were discovered. Whether from the shock of Frankie actually being dead or the fact that he’d been the one to kill her and leave her body in the forest, remained to be seen.
13
Jude
Thankfully, there hadn’t been any other violent incidents at Frankie’s funeral. Jude, Cope, and the others had attended the private burial, which Oliver and Angie skipped. After everyone had thrown red roses into the grave, they’d gone to the Hawthorne Hotel for what Cope called the mercy meal.
It had been much more sedate than the funeral. Cope and Ten had done their best to literally read the room and hadn’t been able to add anyone else to the suspect list. Grief was the strongest of all emotions, according to Ten. It was also the hardest one to read through, which frustrated Jude.
After the meal, Ten and Cope had gone home to be with the kids, while Jude, Ronan, and Fitz headed back to the office. Ronan wanted to look into Angie’s background, Fitz updated Cisco Jackson of the goings on at the funeral, and Jude had finally gotten the police file for the investigation into the stolen million dollars.
Jude felt like the key to the case was in this file. If he could figure out what happened to the stolen money from start to finish, he was sure he’d find the embezzler and possibly Frankie’s killer. Setting himself up at the large table, Jude spread out the contents of the file. Most of it was financial records, but Ambrose Watson’s police file was inside, as was Frankie’s. Jude sighed. It was going to be a long afternoon.
“How’s it going?” Ronan asked, taking a seat at the table and opening his laptop.
“All these financials.” Jude shook his head. “I hate math, and accounting. How the hell do people do this for a living?”
