Read Online A Killer Crop by Sheila Connolly - Free Book Online Page B

church of the type that Meg was rapidly becoming familiar with, was fairly well filled, and most people looked as though they belonged to the local academic community. Meg checked out the front pew for family members, but she couldn’t tell much from the backs of their heads. Daniel’s wife, if that’s who she was, sat with her back stiff, her head high. She was flanked by a couple of twenty-something young men who wore tailored jackets, a rare sight these days, at least to Meg. Daniel’s sons? His wife’s by an earlier marriage? Elizabeth slid into a pew halfway down the aisle. Meg sat next to her without speaking, folding her hands in her lap.
    The service was short and formal, with no gushing eulogies or histrionics from bereaved family; overall it was simple and dignified. Meg glanced at her mother once and saw that while her face was still and composed, tears were tracing their way down her cheeks. Meg turned away. She could count on the fingers of one hand the times she had seen her mother cry.
    When the service ended, Elizabeth sat still, making no move to leave, and the local people, many of whom seemed to know each other, gathered in clots and made their way slowly out of the church. Others moved in the opposite direction, to pay their condolences to the widow. Meg watched as the woman she took to be Daniel’s wife stood up and turned to greet people—a small ad hoc receiving line. Several people approached, took her hand, leaned close, and murmured something that Meg was too far away to hear. One figure stood out, a tall black man with silvered hair, wearing a well-tailored tweed jacket. He spent a few minutes talking to her, holding one of her hands in both of his. The woman nodded and produced a smile now and then. The two young men flanked her like guards but said nothing, looking vaguely uncomfortable. The woman didn’t look terribly distraught, but Meg couldn’t tell whether she was exercising admirable control or was actually numb following her husband’s death.
    Meg leaned toward her mother and whispered, “You don’t know her?”
    “Patricia? No, we’ve never met. She seems to be handling it well.”
    Meg watched as someone else approached, after a few false starts, as if unsure of her welcome. She was young, likely a student, and even from a distance Meg could see that she was struggling to contain tears. The wife, Patricia, greeted her formally, and stood patiently as the girl twisted her hands together and words tumbled out of her mouth. Eventually she realized that there were others waiting and disentangled herself, stalking down the aisle toward the door without greeting anyone else.
    When at least half the crowd had cleared away, Elizabeth stood up and walked slowly to the front, where the woman and young men were still talking with a cluster of people. Meg followed at a distance, uncomfortable yet reluctant to leave her mother unsupported. She hadn’t known Daniel—hadn’t even known of his existence until the past week—and she had no role to play here.
    When the others finally made their farewells, Elizabeth stepped up. “Patricia? I’m Elizabeth Corey. We’ve never met, but I knew Daniel when he was in grad school. Quite a long time ago. I’m so sorry for your loss.”
    Patricia studied Elizabeth. She didn’t look devastated; she didn’t even look upset. “Thank you for coming. I know who you are—Daniel mentioned that he was planning to get together with you. Is Corey your married name?”
    “Yes. He knew me originally as Elizabeth Judson.”
    “Are you staying in the area?” Patricia’s eyes flickered toward Meg, standing silently behind her mother. “I’d like a chance to sit down and talk with you, if you’ll be around for a while longer.”
    “Certainly.” If Elizabeth was startled by Patricia’s request, she didn’t show it. “Let me give you my phone number.” Elizabeth rummaged through her purse and found a card on which she scribbled her cell phone