Obit by Anne Emery Read Free Book Online

The Mass proceeded, and he gave a short homily in English, Italian and — Dia anseo isteach — Irish: God bless all here. The marriage ceremony itself came next and we heard a few selections from soloists chosen by the newlyweds: a young woman who was a friend of Katie, and a man from the D’Agostino side. I noticed that Burke could not stop himself from giving the young female a little signal with a raised index finger, to sharpen her pitch. When it was time for Holy Communion we all lined up to receive the Host from Brennan. I looked into his eyes for the first time since the events of the morning. The priest’s gaze was direct and unflinching. “Body of Christ, Monty.”
    “Amen.”
    The young couple made their exit in a barrage of flashbulbs, and we all gathered on the massive stone stairway of the church. Everyone appeared to be in a celebratory mood, with the exception of Declan Burke. He was standing off to the side, peering through the darkness at the roofs of the buildings across the street. Brennan’s mother, Teresa, looked regal with her silver chignon and elegant dress in the same shade. She was tall, slim and oval-faced, with great dark brown eyes and an air of unflappable dignity. “Monty! What a pleasure to see you.” She gave me a quick kiss on the cheek, and we spoke for a few minutes about the bride and the ceremony. When she was called away I went over to Declan.
    “Mr. Collins.”
    “Mr. Burke. Good to see you again.” We shook hands.
    Declan was shorter than I was, and stocky, with thick white hairbrushed from a side part. He had an aura of strength and power, and a disconcerting way of fixing you with his wintry blue eyes. A very vigorous man of seventy-three. His speech was Irish, terse, to the point: “Thank you for your efforts on my son’s behalf last year. Without your detective and legal work, he’d be having his morning crap in a prison cell for the rest of his natural life. And we both know he’s much too fastidious for that.”
    “Thank you for your kind words, Declan. That’s all behind us now.” His eyes turned from me and sought out the roofs across the street again. “Is there anything wrong?”
    “Why would there be? Excuse me, would you?” And he moved farther away from the crowd.
    Declan’s worries, whatever they were, seemed to be groundless. The whole gathering moved to the reception in the gymnasium of the parish school, adjacent to the church. We entered a large foyer with glass cabinets displaying trophies going back to the 1950s. Ahead of us were the gym doors bedecked with white streamers, but Normie veered off to the left and then turned right, with two little boys hard on her heels. I made a detour and went after them down the corridor, which ran along the length of the gym. By the time I caught up, the kids were standing in the windows on the east side of the building, making faces into the dark outside. Tongues being stuck out at old aunts on their way to the reception? No, all I saw was trees out there. One of the windows looked as if it was ready to fall out of its casing. That was all I needed, my kid crashing out of the building and me stuck with the repair bill. Normie laughed when she saw me, but the smirk was wiped off her face when she caught sight of Declan Burke scowling at the end of the hallway.
    “Uh-oh.”
    “Uh-oh, is right. Get off there, the three of you.” One after the other, they jumped from their perches and ran to a side door to the gym, but it was locked. “Go back where we came in; that’s the entrance.”
    Declan eyed the windows and the locked side door; then he turned back and entered the gymnasium.
    I heard someone announce: “Family pictures!” The death knell for any hope of an early start to the party. Fortunately, the bar was open and doing a brisk business. After ordering a beer I took the opportunityto ask the bartender if he had ever heard of a brew called — I hoped I had it right — Lameki Jocuzasem. The